#or there are ways to use that driveway at night but carry the tone through the music and VO

[dramas-vs-novels]

For me, this was the biggest mistake in Cutie Pie.

Kuea is sobbing in Foei's car, he gets out, the music instantly snaps to cheeky, and a fairly upbeat NuNew voiceover narrates the texts, with Diao replying (sounding like his trademark ball of anxiety).

Kuea calmly gets into a rideshare car and then-

He's sobbing again when he gets to the secret house where Diao is waiting.

It makes it feel like Kuea's pain is performative. Like he's using it as an act to get sympathy points or being insincere.

I like seeing Kuea in Foei's car crying while Foei looks concerned. I get that a transition was needed because Foei can't drop Kuea off at that secret house, and it'd be weird to hard-smash to Kuea just there.

But absolutely slaughtering the tone in that transition outside Kuea's place was NOT the answer.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part one here:: link

"oh i dunno if Im going to finish this" I say, right before the plot ate me. anyway this was too big to post in full to tumblr. If you want the full, completed fic (with bonus Fun Fic Facts tm) it is finished and up on A03 here:: link

TW vomiting, drug use

Eddie is good.

Eddie is kind.

Eddie does not run over Henderson’s bike, laying haphazardly in Harrington’s pristine driveway, even if it would make him feel better. 

He does slam his van into park with enough force to make the brakes squeal, which he decides is an excellent way to announce his appearance to the entire neighborhood. 

It’s a move he’s pulled countless times. Charging in and making a scene meant people forgot that he couldn’t actually fight for shit, and equally, took their attention off whatever their original target was.

Which in this case, was Eddie’s too fucking nice freshman. 

The rage pulsing through him is white hot and all encompassing, and it’ll get him through a lot--but the switchblade he carries ensures everyone’s safety in these little matters. 

It makes him brave.

Braver than he should be really, but Eddie spent the entire drive over here chain smoking out the window while prepping for this little confrontation and the more he’d thought it all over, the madder he got.

That a washed up jock thought he could still take advantage of actual children. 

Nevermind Hellfire, or Henderson ditching, or Sinclaire’s ranting. 

This was about their relationship with Harrington. 

A picture has been building in Eddie’s head. One that’s only gotten clearer after today, and one he will be putting an end to, because he doesn’t believe for a second Harrington has a headache. 

Henderson might always be the smartest person in the room, but he’s dumb as hell socially. Too honest, too blunt, and frankly, too goodhearted. 

That makes him easy to take advantage of. 

Sinclair was worse--the guy was too easy to guilt trip. 

It was a noted issue with his ranger, and apparently, himself, and Eddie could easily see how Harrington could have twisted the idea of some ridiculous life-debt to keep Lucas in his clutches.  

Even Mayfield, Billy Hargrove’s former stepsister, was wrapped up in Harrington enough to have a go at her own friends over him! 

She wasn’t even one of his flock, but Eddie was her neighbor. Saw how her mom was barely home. How she was practically raising herself, head down, doing her best not to ever let people see her cry. 

Yeah.

Wouldn’t exactly be difficult for a guy like Steve Harrington to swoop in and take advantage there. 

Wheeler clearly wasn’t a fan and Eddie can only come up with reason after reason as to why--King Jackass had the poor kid’s entire friend group under some kind of--of sick spell.

Well. 

Eddie was here to break it. 

Even if it meant storming into the King’s castle by himself and calling him out on his shit. 

Nobody fucked with his people. Especially not douchebag, washed up jocks. 

He’s up to Harringotn’s ridiculous double doors in a flash, banging hard on the wood with a closed fist, positively fuming and uncaring of who sees. 

Surprise, surprise, it’s Henderson who opens it.

“Eddie?” He says, blinking up at him like he’s not sure of what he’s seeing.  “What are you--hey!” 

Hey, because Eddie’s pushed past him, storming into the house. 

“This has gone on long enough.” He announces, loud as he ever has been. “Where the hell’s Harrington?”

Henderson, frustratingly, does not weep or throw his hands up in celebration of Eddie’s incoming rescue. 

Which is fine--Eddie hasn’t broken the spell yet.

Unfortunately he is bitching, in that infamously annoying tone of his.

“Dude, shut up, Steve’s pills really only work for like, an hour--” 

“Fantastic, he’ll be clear headed for our little talk.” Eddie tells him, head sweeping left and  right as he looks for his target. He’s been in Casa de Harrington a few times before to deal, but it was always at night.

He can now say with perfect honesty that the place looks worse in the bright light of the day. 

“Was that Eddie?” Sinclair calls, and Eddie orients towards him instantly, storming down the hall. 

It doesn’t take long to find the kid. 

 Lucas is standing in a kitchen larger than Eddie’s entire trailer, a too-large pink apron drowning his frame. 

He turns, revealing the front of the thing has  ‘Whisk Taker’ written on it in syrupy white font. 

(Baking puns. Disgusting.) 

“Are you cooking?” Eddie accuses with a sneer, though his disgust isn’t aimed at the freshmen. 

This is exactly what he was afraid of finding. 

Lucas just stares at him. “Uh--yeah?” 

“What did I say about too many people, Munson?” Mayfrield spits angrily. It takes a second to locate her--the kitchen is enormous and far too white--but eventually Eddie realizes she’s perched up on a counter next to the largest sink he’s ever seen. 

For a second, Eddie thinks that’s just where she’s chosen to sit. Then she moves, and he realizes she’s washing and drying a series of water bottles. 

He never in his life thought he’d witness Maxine Mayfield willingly do someone else's dishes. 

“Someone get me Harrington.” He’s not trying for anything dramatic, but his voice must sound dangerous because all three freshmen stop dead, eyes wide as if he's just spoken in tongues.

He zeroes in on Dustin with a glare. “Now.”

Who huffs, throwing his hands up in the air like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable here. 

“Absolutely not--we just got Steve to sit down. He’s been following me around the house insisting I’m causing more problems than I’m fixing!”

“Because you are.” Steve says, voice dripping with calm condescension as he appears like a wraith in the doorway. “And I know you’re all into the whole dungeon game, Munson, but this is a little dramatic, even for you.”

Eddie whirls to face him, already vibrating with fury. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from the guy who’s treating them like his personal minions. What’s next, Harrington? Gonna make them re-shingle the roof? Paint your house? Wax your car?”

Steve gives him a flat, almost disbelieving stare. “Do you seriously think I had Henderson miss your game just so I could lounge around while he’s doing chores?”

Eddie doesn’t bite, too busy unloading. “Oh we can both see it’s more than that.”

He doesn’t notice the way Steve’s jaw tenses, or how his hand creeps up to the side of his head, rubbing at his temple. 

“Anything else you want done, Harrington? Maybe make ‘em mow the lawn?” Eddie sneers. “Or teach ‘em to plump your pillows just the way you like—”

Steve finally snaps, pushing himself upright. “You know what Munson, you're right,” he says, voice tight with barely-contained frustration. “I’m clearly a terrible person they need to be rescued from so--”  

He cuts himself off with a hiss,  eyes squeezing shut as his hand goes to the side of his head, and spits out his next words like they hurt. 

“You can play the good guy and take them all home.” 

Dustin, with an exasperated sigh, steps between them. “No,” he tells Steve sternly, as if managing an unruly child, before spinning on his heel to say the exact same thing, in the exact same tone--to Eddie. 

(Jackass freshman can’t even appreciate when they’re being actively rescued!) 

“Eddie, I promise that this isn’t what it looks like.” 

For anyone else it would sound like a plea, but Henderosn somehow makes it condescending.

“We can explain, alright?” Dustin says, raising his hands as though coaxing a skittish animal. “Will you let us explain? Please?”

Eddie glowers. 

“You clearly do not, in fact, know what this looks like. Because if you did,” 

Eddie can make himself menacing and he does so now, pulling on every single year of drama and theatrics and lying to cops he’s had, pushing his shoulders back and making his body tall.

“You would know that it looks like a guy who peaked in high school is forcing a bunch of fourteen year olds to do his bidding.” 

He takes an aggressive step towards Steve, boots thunking hard on the floor. “And that isn’t happening on my watch.” 

“Aren’t you like an extra super senior?” Mayfield says, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Irrelevant!” Eddie swats the air in her direction, as if to physically bat away her words. “I’m still in high school and I’m not emotionally blackmailing a bunch of kids into waiting on me hand and foot while I fake a headache!” 

“Oh ew.” Max’s nose scrunches in disgust, a mixture of disbelief and fury warring on her face. “That is not what’s happening here.” 

“Were you even listening earlier?!” Lucas says, like he can’t quite believe Eddie is this dumb. 

(His character will be the next to die, so Eddie swears.) 

“I did.” Eddie points a finger at him, triumphant. “I heard all about how he’s tricked you into thinking you owe him a life-debt!”

“A what?” Harrington’s squinting, like he’s struggling to follow along what is happening. It’s a halfway decent sick act, Eddie will give it to him, but he knows the facade will drop in a moment. 

As soon as the asshole loses his temper and decides to try and throw Eddie out, he’ll switch from the Poor Me act into the usual pompous, rich dick on a rampage persona. 

“How he’s saved you all, convinced you and Henderson that you’re in debt to him.” 

“Could we just---please stop yelling?” Steve says in the background, heel pressing hard against his eyes. 

Then winces like his own voice hurts his head.

“What the hell, Eddie?!” Dustin’s cut across the room, stepping in between the two older teens. “Where did this even come from!?” 

“Guys.” 

“The mouths of babes, Henderson. Which you would know if you witnessed Sinclair’s rant instead of missing out because King Dickhead demanded your presence at his castle!” 

“Guys.” Steve’s voice abruptly takes on a weird tone, and it’s only Mayfield’s eyes popping wide that has Eddie realizing something is wrong--right before Harrington shoots past him, noisily hurling in the sink.

“Gross!” Max shrieks, throwing herself off the counter. 

Harrington aims a shaky middle finger in her direction. 

“I just washed those bottles Steve, I'm not washing them again!” Mayfield rants, but she’s not fooling anyone. Not with the way she’s already edging back towards him, like she’s afraid he might fall over. 

(Worse, like she might try to catch him, as if Harrington’s broad, barbarian-like shoulders wouldn’t flatten her instantly.) 

“Al-’right.” Harrington slurs a moment later, still panting over the sink. “Everyone--out. Now.” 

“Steve--” 

“Nope. Making it worse. Out.” 

He manages to stand and turn, leaning hard against the counter and for the first time since this all started, Eddie looks at him. 

Properly, and not through the lens of righteous fury. 

Harrington’s pale.

The shirt he’s wearing is stained with sweat marks, his sweatpants clearly old and worn for comfort rather than style. 

His hair…

Eddie has never seen Harrington without his infamously perfect hairdo, and the messy, slick waves plastered to his forehead is more of a shock then him vomiting in the sink. 

He’s got his hands pressed hard against his eyes again, and there’s a slight tremble in his fingers that belay he’s likely in a lot more pain than he’s letting on.

In short, Harrington looks like absolute shit, and Eddie, maybe, possibly, the tiniest bit believes he actually has a migraine. 

Well, it was that or he was really committed to the bit… 

The tense silence that has befallen them all is ruined when Harrington makes a ‘hurk.’ noise.

“I’m going to throw up again.” He decides after a moment of contemplation, before whipping back around to the sink and doing just that. 

“Steve’s right.” Mayfield decides suddenly, over all the nasty noises. “We should leave.” 

“I’m almost done cooking!” Sinclair protests, as if Harrington isn’t presently throwing up the contents of his stomach. 

“You’re almost done burning things, you mean.” Max mutters, but her words can’t hide the blatant concern written all over his face. “I don’t think he’s going to keep anything down.” 

“He needs us to finish what we started.” Dustin argues passionately. “You know how bad he gets, he’s not gonna be able to get up in an hour!” 

(A clear exaggeration, because Harrington looks like he’s not gonna make it across the kitchen unassisted.) 

“What I need is for everyone to stop talking so fucking loud.” Harrington moans, before appearing to give up on life entirely. 

He sort of sags against the counter, resting his head against his arms while bent double, as if that would help things. 

It was at this point that Eddie had the most unfortunate realization that he might be the asshole here. 

Because Harrington looks rough--and if he actually does in fact, have a migraine, then Eddie has done nothing but make it worse.

(Very likely the freshmen have as well, given Dustin is incapable of talking in anything other than a loud yell, and the smell of Lucas’s burnt food has permeated the air.

Mayfield seemed to have accomplished a small amount of actual work, at least.

…If Harrington managed to miss throwing up on the water bottles.) 

“Look,” Harrington interrupts with an audible, thick swallow.“You guys did great, and I appreciate the uh, help. I’m fine, I promise, you can all go home. Munson,” 

He doesn’t turn, but his voice does change into something that’s half pleading, half demanding.

“Can we please fight about this tomorrow? Or next week?” 

“No fighting!” Dustin shrieks, which has the effect of making Harrington cringe into the counter--and that is what finally kicks Eddie over.

Bows to the instincts that now want to wrap up Harrington in a blanket over the ones that want to strangle him, (though both are very much at odds in his head with each other.)

“We can put a pin in it.” He says, all the venom dropping out of his voice,  already knowing what’s going to happen next and hating himself for it. 

Even at his absolute worst, Eddie has never been able to resist trying to fix a problem he’s been presented with--or turn down someone who needs help.

Harrington, clearly, needs help. 

“You heard him.” He tells his freshman, then immediately holds up a hand when all three try to protest at once. 

“Ah-ah, inside voices.” He himself uses a harsh whisper, and then has to fight not to laugh aloud when all three abruptly eye him like he’s lost his head.

He probably has.

(Fucking King Steve.

No one who is that much of a douchebag should ever look that pathetic without deserving it, it’s against the Munson doctrine.) 

“Henderson, have you done anything actually useful while you’ve been here? Like, say, getting a warm washcloth?” 

“I--oh.” Dustin’s on the defense instantly, but for once actually listens before he finishes his sentence. “Uh. No.”

“Go do that then.” Eddie instructs, making sure to keep his voice quiet and even. 

“Sinclair, toss out the eggs, then take the garbage out so it’ll stop stinking up the place. Mayfield, see if these windows open. Harrington…” 

He pauses, watching as Harrington tries to gather himself, moving slowly and deliberately like even breathing hurts. His entire appearance is grating Eddie’s nerves—not because he doesn’t care, but because he does, and that’s infuriating. 

“Go lay down, man.” He finishes lamely. 

He expects the freshmen to listen to him. Knows they will, in his heart of hearts, even if they bitch back, because that’s just how things are when he decides to take charge. So few people truly want to, that others are often relieved when he does. 

Steve Harrington is not most people.

If he argues, he could very well tip things out of control again, which means Eddie is likely going to have to force the trio of fourteen year olds out of the house. 

Henderson and Sinclair he can manage but Mayfield…

Thankfully, Steve pushes off the counter with a groan, muttering something under his breath, but slowly making his way toward the couch without any other protest. 

The freshmen exchange glances, all of them looking just as unsure as Eddie feels. Like they’re waiting for instructions now that their default leader is down for the count.

He clears his throat pointedly. 

“Hello? Did I not give you marching orders?” He bats his hands at them. “Go march!” 

Mayfield mutters something that sounds an awful lot like “hypocrite” but thankfully, does as asked. 

“Are you gonna give us a ride home?” Henderson asks as he finally starts moving around--hopefully to get a damn washcloth. 

“You got yourself here, you can get yourself home.” Eddie scoffs back, taking stock of Harrington’s kitchen. 

He eyes the line of pain pills laid out on the counter, quickly noting not one of them is anything that would help with a sneeze let alone a migraine. 

Typical. 

“Why not?” Dustin disappeared down a hallway, but the fact Eddie can still hear him plain as day speaks to his ability to keep quiet. “You have your van, don’t you?” 

“Because I’m not leaving when you three are leaving.” 

It’s an absentminded comment, given his mind is elsewhere. 

Weed may be his bread and butter but he does have a handful of more serious things on offer. 

Of those things, one or two have some fun little unexpected side effects, and if Eddie recalls Rick’s yapping right, one of said things was stopping headaches. 

Said magic little mushrooms might even be in a pocket or two, here, if he remembers right… 

“Wait, you're staying here?” Lucas protests, far too loudly. 

"Ssszzhh!" Eddie hisses, drawing out the sound dramatically, mostly for the sake of cutting off whatever protests were coming his way. 

“No arguing. Your beloved King clearly needs a nap, and that means you’re all off duty. Unless," he adds with a raised eyebrow, "you intend to watch him sleep?"

Dustin looks torn, but mutters a quiet, "No," his eyes shifting sideways like he's weighing the logic.

"Good. Then if you’re all finished…?”

He waits for the nods he knows are coming. 

“Excellent. Now leave." Eddie says, pointing towards the door. 

They hesitate for a second, but then finally begin to shuffle out, the door clicking quietly behind them. 

And just like that, Eddie’s left standing there, watching Steve breathe shallowly on the couch--with a washrag over his eyes.

(At least Dustin managed that.) 

He could leave now. 

Should leave, really. Giving out drugs for free is not exactly a good business move and Steve will no doubt sleep the headache off without it. But Eddie’s feet don't seem to agree with him, rooted in place as his gaze lingers on the sharp line of Steve's jaw, the slight twitch of his brow every time a muscle aches.

Feels the pull, deep in his gut, to provide the relief he knows he can give. 

Before he knows what’s happening, he’s moving, crossing the room toward him.

“Munson?” Harrington squints up at him as he registers his presence, washcloth nudged upwards by shaky fingers. “Why’r you still ‘ere?” 

“Because I’m stupid.” Eddie mutters, right before realizing he actually said that outloud. 

“What?” 

Thank God for Harrington’s headache. 

“You look terrible, man.”  Eddie says slightly louder. “That hair of yours is so flat I think your crown’s gonna fall right off.” 

He’d meant it as a joke--spoke it like one, but it seems to snap Harrington out of his pity party. 

The sigh that blasts out of him is a whole body affair, and gets his feelings across better than his words do. “I get it. You thought this was something else and it wasn’t. Not the first time that’s happened.” 

He turns, cheek scraping against the fabric of his shirt, red rimmed eyes squinting against the light to look at Eddie. 

“You got your laugh in, so you can go.” 

There’s defeat in his voice. Like he’s accepted this might as well have happened. 

(Like he’s just as beaten down as anyone Eddie has ever saved.) 

“I didn’t stick around to laugh.” Eddie keeps his voice soft, and that somehow, makes the next part easier to say.  

“I honestly thought you were messing around with Henderson and Sinclair, and I uh, I’m used to being the only person who gives a shit. When that kind of thing happens.” 

Harrington grimaces. 

“It’s okay.” he mutters, eyes sliding closed once more. “Most people still think I’m an asshole.”

His tone has gone odd again, wrecked and rasping, migraine clearly trumping whatever strong feelings he had on the matter. 

And the stupid thing was, Harrington himself was never really an asshole. 

Sure he went along with the assholes, and he definitely egged them on if not outright participated in some of the lower tier shitty activities, but he wasn’t the guy slamming people into lockers. 

(Eddie, in fact, has a hazy memory of Steve telling off Hagan for doing said locker slamming.) 

It didn’t make him a good guy--he’d had slung too many insults around to get that label--but in the rankings of assholery, his was of the average variety. 

Which means that Eddie cannot logic himself out of his own stupid desire to help.

Even if he really, really wants to.

“Yeah well, even assholes need assistance sometimes, and since I kicked your help out, it’s on to make up for it.” 

“No offense,” Steve slurs tiredly, “but I don’t think you’re any quieter than Dustin.” 

A smile ghosts over Eddie’s face. 

“I live in a tiny ass trailer, Harrington. Trust me,  I know how to be quiet. I simply choose not to be.” He moves, slow and careful, until he’s seated next to the fallen King on his stupidly huge (and very uncomfortable) couch. 

Steve’s eye follows him over, staring up as he white knuckles his sweatpants, washrag sitting crooked on his forehead. 

“I’m not sure I’m not gonna throw up again.” He admits after a moment. 

“And that right there is one of the things I can help with. Provided,” Eddie waggles his eyebrows, “that you don’t mind taking a more recreational route for your recovery?” 

“....are you offering me drugs?” 

“I am indeed.” Eddie confirms with a real smile, plucking the offending baggie out of a pocket. 

“You ever done shrooms, your majesty?” 

Steve huffs a quiet noise that might have been a snort, had he put any effort behind it. 

“How is that going to help?” 

“Be-cauuuuuse,” Eddie draws the words out, still a showman even if he is doing his level best to talk as quietly as possible, “shrooms are what we call a psychedelic, and those are pretty well known among certain circles as the headache healer.” 

Provided one took the medicinal amount and not the down-the-rabbit-hole amount. 

Harrington’s eyes are back open, only this time they’re looking at Eddie’s fingers the same way a dog looks at a nail trimmer: concerned and not entirely unsure it wasn’t going to bite him. 

“I’m not…” He cuts himself off, frowning. 

“You’ve bought plenty of my weed, Harrington. Trust me this isn’t any different.” Eddie tells him. 

Isn’t offended in the slightest--this reaction is pretty typical for people who have only smoked the ganja. 

Even the ones who asked to try for something with a little more ‘umph.’ 

“S’not that.”Steve admits quietly. “I uh. Had a bad trip. While back.” 

“Ah, gunshy.” Eddie says it without a lick of judgment, because Eddie’s been there.

Or rather in the shower, at two am because he accidentally spilled LSD on his hand and promptly tripped balls for 48 hours after.  

 “I’ll hang around a bit, if you like.” He offers casually. “Make sure things don’t go sideways.”

He gets another huff-snort as Harrington’s watery eyes return their attention to him. 

“And what are you going to do if they do go sideways?”

“Put you back together again.”  

Eddie knows his grin is crooked, but can’t help it. He’s thinking about Humpty Dumpty and the King’s Men.  

Somehow he doesn’t see Steve Harrington cracking that easily—at least, not without putting up a good fight—but drugs did worse things to better people. 

“It really helps?” Steve asks, voice quiet. Doubtful.

Eddie presses his hands to his chest. “Scouts honor.”

“You were not a boy scout.” Steve tells him, but he’s struggling to sit up anyway, looking game. 

“Alright, so how do I do this?” He asks, though he’s already halfway down again, propped up on his elbows.

“First, you lay back down, and I’ll brew it into tea,” Eddie explains. 

“Tea?”

“Well, you could eat them straight, but I don’t think they’d taste too great. Not that I wouldn’t mind watching you try.”

Steve scowls. “Sadist.”

“Guilty,” Eddie replies, biting back the urge to sing-song it, keeping his voice down and steady. “Just a heads-up: they kick in fast, but I’ll go light on you—nothing like the ‘fun’ dose for the usual crowd.”

Which is how he ends up back in the kitchen, this time making tea and humming to himself, before offering the final brewed concoction to Harrington.

Who downs it like a shot, because he’s a fucking frat-bro at heart. 

“I didn’t find a teacup for you to do that.” 

Between a full-body shudder and a dramatic grimace, Steve chokes out “Not gonna lie I didn’t think we owned a teacup.” 

“What, do you think I just have them in my van?”

“Honestly? Yeah.” 

Which is kind of hysterical, and something Eddie may be doing--not that he’s telling Harrington that. 

“And now we wait!” He announces instead of rambling about teacups, nearly clapping his hands together before he remembers the migraine Steve is soldiering through with surprising grit. 

Eddie himself would have turned into a whiny mess, so he can’t help but admire the guy’s restraint.

“Waiting to see if I hurl again, you mean?” Steve mutters, flopping backward onto the couch. “That tasted like battery acid.”

“Think it’s coming back up?”

“No clue.”

They sit in silence for a second, then Eddie pokes, “Maybe it’s best if you crash in your room, man. You look like death warmed over, and this couch sucks.” 

An understatement, if there ever was one. The fucking thing didn’t seem to be made for people to actually sit on. 

Reluctantly, Steve pulls himself up, heading toward his room. Eddie tags along, snarky grin covering the way he holds his hands out in case the jock ahead of him slips on the stairs and takes them both out. 

(Unlike Mayfield, Eddie does not pretend Steve doesn’t outclass him weight wise. The man was built like a brickhouse, and he has to fight to keep his eyes up toward Steve’s hair instead of on his ass.) 

Thankfully, he’s saved from all R-rated thoughts by the sheer horror of Harrington’s bedroom. 

“Harrington, I’ve found the source of all your migraines.” Eddie tells him, tone as serious as he’s ever been.

“Ha-ha.” Steve deadpans, stepping into his plaid fucking room. 

“I’m not kidding, I’m getting a headache and I’ve been here less than five seconds.” 

The whole place truly is a nightmare--like someone took one of those plaid hunting jackets and themed an entire room around it. 

Fucking rich people. 

“Trust me, it’s not the wallpaper.” 

“Given how you’re weaving on your feet, I think it’s safe to say I don’t trust you at all.” Eddie tells him, half helping half dragging Steve towards the bed. 

It’s a comfy looking thing and Harrington falls into it gratefully, immediately crawling under the covers. 

“You know where to find me?” Eddie asks him, refusing to think Harrington snuggling up in his bed is something cute. 

“Yeah?”

“Good. Hit me up next time your head gets bad. I’ll make sure to keep some of this,” He shakes the little baggie, “on hand.” 

Steve’s pulled the covers all the way up past his chin, but he moves it down a little to properly cock an eye at Eddie. 

“Dare I ask what you're gonna charge for that?”

“Let’s call it a fair trade for all those times you’ve driven the freshman home from Hellfire.” 

If Steve even recalls this conversation, that is. Eddie hadn’t exactly given him the “fun” kind of dose, but then, he himself has never tested out what dose is needed to cure headaches rather than simply having  fun destroying one's own ego. 

He supposes that’s something he and Harrington both will have to test, between them--because Eddie meant it when he offered the drugs for free.

No one deserves to suffer from the kind of migraine Harrington clearly had. 

“Think you’re good to drop off.” Eddie tells him, after making sure Steve is happily content in his bed. 

Checks his watch to make sure enough time has passed to safely call it, before beginning to attempt his way out of Steve’s god-awful bedroom. 

Which of course, is when Harrington reaches out, looping his fingers around Eddie’s wrist. 

It freezes him in place. 

In a moment that is so utterly selfish and stupid that Eddie will loudly insist it was a hallucination should Harrington ever dare ask about it, he turns his palm and moves so that he’s clasping Steve’s fingers with his own. 

“Thanks. For all this.” Steve whispers, as they hold hands for a moment. 

Eddie squeezes his fingers against the younger man’s before he moves to make his retreat, flashing a peace sign over his shoulder as he goes.  

“Anytime, big boy.” 

Anytime. 

xxx

The thing no one tells you about creating a doctrine, is that at some point or another, someone’s going to hold you to it. 

In Eddie’s case it’s four very pissed off teenagers.

He has a gold medal in mental gymnastics and a silver in denial. Left on his own devices he could easily excuse everything that happened yesterday. 

Reclassify the fallen King as pathetic, and the kids' weird loyalty to him as a holdover from his babysitting days. 

Blame their nosy-ness on them being involved in Harrington’s life, and happily go back to mocking their relationship with renewed vigor because now he’s not going to handwave their behavior as being afraid of Harrington. 

Nope, they clearly and willingly, have attached themselves to the King, which means Eddie gets to make fun of them for life. 

Pity they don’t leave Eddie to his own devices. 

In fact, the little shits hit him up first thing in the morning, early enough that he's’ a little suspicious that the boys slept over at Max’s trailer. 

“We’re not done talking about Steve.” Mayfield tells him and given the determined (Henderson) angry (Sinclair) and put out (Wheeler Jr.) faces glaring at him from over her shoulder, Eddie figures his chances for getting out of this conversation are slim to none.

“Good morning to you too.” He snarks, voice gravel-deep with sleep. “What do you little shits want?”

“I literally just said.” Max rolls her eyes so hard he thinks about commenting that they may stick back there, only to decide that makes him sound too much like a teacher for his liking. 

(Besides if they get stuck, he’ll have an excuse to whack her on the back of her head without getting murdered for it.

…well. 

An attempt at an excuse, anyway.) 

“And who says I have anything I want to talk about?” He fires back, leaning a shoulder against the old metal doorframe. 

Just because he understood what they wanted didn’t mean he was going to make it easy. 

“Would you just let us in?” 

“No.” 

“Eddie.” Dustin whines, and Eddie redirects his frown his way. “Come on.” 

“Well I suppose if you say it that way,” Eddie hums thoughtfully. “No.” 

“Steve’s sick, you asswipe.” Max snaps angrily. 

“I know,” He volleys back, brightly sarcastic. “I saw him yesterday.”

Because it’s Mayfield, she matches him tit for tat, a mimicry of his sarcastic drawl entering her voice. “Good! You get to see him today too.”

And just like that their little ambush makes sense.

(He’s got to find a new way to get the damn kids to fear him, clearly his usual menacingness  just isn’t cutting it anymore.) 

“And why would I do that?” 

He’s done his good deed. He helped Harrington out, and even offered free drugs to help him get his migraines under control. 

Checking up on the guy was overkill.  

“We were gonna do it, but someone let it slip that Steve was sick.” A cutting glance is given to Henderson, who makes a face but otherwise holds his ground. 

“And his mom called everyone else's parents with instructions that we leave him alone until he feels better.”  

“So now if we go over there,” Sinclair finishes for his girlfriend, “we get grounded.” 

Which neatly answers every question that just popped into Eddie’s head. 

The threat makes sense for the boys--Eddie’s met Claudia Henderson and though she has that bubbly, easy to confuse nature of suburbanites everywhere, there was an undercurrent in her eyes of someone who knew more than she was letting on. 

Or perhaps, someone who simply knew what they wanted, and was happy to settle and wait for it. 

 Likewise the Sinclair and Wheeler parental units seem to want to keep in her--and Steve’s, no doubt, given he carts their kids around--good graces. 

Given Mayfield’s mom wasn’t even home last night, her participation in this farce does not make sense and Eddie narrows his eyes at her in warning. 

“I fail to see how this is my problem.” He says instead of directly calling her out.

She knows he knows, and he’s smart enough to figure out how to relay that without saying it directly. 

(An action taken out of respect for surviving a bad home life, and absolutely not because he’s terrified she’ll crawl through his window to enact revenge in the middle of the night.) 

“It’s your problem because you owe him one.” she tells him firmly. “And us.”

Oh no he does not. 

“How so?” He challenges with a snorted laugh. 

“You did kind of storm into his house and yell a lot.” Sinclair points out. He’s doing better at speaking up, Eddie realizes with a twisted sense of pride and dread. 

Not quite so easy to steamroll after his outburst yesterday. 

A part of him hopes that sticks around--Sinclair needs a spine, and not just because Mayfield will keep running circles around him until he grows one. 

The rest of Eddie is pissed off that he decided to get one now, when it directly impacted Eddie’s Saturday morning sleeping plans.  

Leave it to these dickheads to use a good deed against him.

“Look--we can’t make sure he’s okay. You can.” Mayfield steps up to jam a painted fingernail in Eddie’s chest. “He won’t let us do anything that will actually help him. You, he can't stop.” 

He does not take a step backward and thus lose all the cool points he has left in the eyes of the younger Hellfire members, but only because he’s already leaned up against the doorframe. 

He bares his teeth at her in a silent snarl instead. 

“We made it worse.” She admits, voice sharp. “And I don’t know how to make it better, but you seem to be able to, so congrats Munson--you get to go again!” 

Which gets Eddie’s back right up. 

He pushes off the doorframe, ready to tell Mayfield--and all his little dipshits--right off, except this is when Wheeler Jr., of all people, decides to add in his two cents. 

“If you don’t go, no one else will.” He looks off to the side while he says it, arms crossed tight across his chest and spitting the words out like he's admitting to a crime. “Robin’s not coming back until Monday and Nancy's got some stupid thing, so you’re literally the only person who can go.” 

Well just stab him in the heart, why don’t you. 

“What are the chances of you fucking back off to whatever hole you crawled out of if I refuse?” He asks, already knowing that he’s done for.

Accepted his fate, because he knows what it’s like not to have someone to rely on, when you need them the most. 

“Zero.” Sinclair and Henderson chant as one. 

“Well then.” He tells them with the biggest, most put upon sigh he can manage. “Guess you got me in a box here.” 

Mayfield grins at him.

It reminds him vaguely of a shark. 

A bloodthirsty, slightly demonic, mean shark. 

“Good. Go get dressed.”

“Oh I’m doing this right now, am I?” He complains, but he’s already moving to go back into his trailer. 

“We’re not leaving until you do!” Mayfield yells at him.

Eddie slams the door in her face. 

(He’s never adopting freshmen again, as long as he fucking lives.)

[rafecswhore]

almost, always. - r.c x pogue! reader

summary: you and rafe cameron were always on opposite sides of the outer banks—pogue versus kook, wild optimism versus self-destructive chaos. when the relationship fell apart a year ago, you thought it was over. but as rafe reappears in your life with his clean slate and a determination to change, you’re forced to confront the question: is it too late to rebuild what you once had?

present day: first encounter

the sun was low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the quiet gas station parking lot. you’d just finished your shift at the wreck, your body sore and your mind a little numb from hours of work.

you stood at the pump, watching the numbers climb painfully slowly. you weren’t paying much attention—until the unmistakable growl of a truck engine filled the air.

you froze. you didn’t need to turn to know whose truck it was.

still, curiosity won.

a quick glance confirmed it: rafe cameron.

but he didn’t look like the rafe you remembered. gone were the messy blond locks you used to run your fingers through. his hair was buzzed now, a clean-cut look that felt jarring against the wildness you knew he carried.

he stepped out of the truck, his movements casual, but there was tension in his shoulders. topper was with him, rambling on about something you didn’t care to hear. then, like he could feel you looking, rafe’s eyes flicked toward you.

you saw the moment he recognized you. his body went still, his mouth parting slightly like he wasn’t sure if you were real.

“y/n,” he said, his voice carrying across the parking lot.

you wanted to look away, pretend you hadn’t seen him, but it was too late now.

“rafe,” you replied, forcing your tone to stay neutral.

topper, ever the instigator, smirked and muttered something to rafe before disappearing into the truck.

rafe didn’t move. he just stood there, staring at you, his buzzed hair catching the last rays of sunlight.

“you look… different,” he said finally.

you snorted, turning back to the pump. “so do you.”

“yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “trying something new.”

“well, good for you.”

you finished filling your tank, shoved the nozzle back in place, and climbed into your car. as you pulled away, you could still feel his eyes on you.

flashback: how it began

the first time you met rafe, you wanted to punch him in the face.

you were working a double shift at the wreck, exhausted and over it, when he walked in with topper and kelce. they weren’t regulars. kooks usually avoided pogue hangouts unless they wanted to cause trouble.

“what is this place, a charity kitchen?” topper had joked loudly as they sat down, earning a round of laughter from the group. you rolled your eyes, grabbing their drinks and making your way to their table.

“if you’re not happy, you know where the door is,” you said, slamming the beers down harder than necessary. rafe looked up at you, his blue eyes sharp and a little amused. “feisty,” he said, smirking. “i like it.”

“yeah, well, i don’t like you,” you shot back, turning to walk away.

later that night, when you were taking the trash out, he was waiting for you by the back door.

“what do you want, cameron?” you asked, crossing your arms. “just wanted to say sorry,” he said, his tone surprisingly genuine. “and… maybe ask you out.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “not a chance.”

but something about the way he smiled—crooked, a little shy—stayed with you.

present day: the bonfire

you didn’t know he’d be there.

the bonfire was supposed to be a fun night, a chance to let loose with your friends. but when rafe’s truck pulled into the chateau driveway, the energy shifted.

“why the hell is he here?” jj muttered, glaring as rafe stepped out. “sarah invited him,” kiara said, rolling her eyes.

you tried to focus on stacking firewood, pretending you didn’t notice the way rafe’s buzzed head stood out against the crowd.

but you noticed.

it was impossible not to.

he didn’t say much, keeping to the edges of the group. but his eyes found you every chance they could. when you finally stepped away to get some air, it didn’t take long for him to follow.

“y/n,” he called softly, his voice careful.

you turned to face him, your arms crossed. “what do you want, rafe?”

he hesitated, his hands shoved into his pockets. “i just… i wanted to talk.”

“about what?”

“about us,” he said, his blue eyes scanning your face. “about… everything.”

“rafe—”

“i know i messed up,” he said quickly. “i know i wasn’t what you needed, and i don’t blame you for leaving. but i’ve been trying. i swear, i’ve been trying.”

you stared at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice.

“why now?” you asked, your voice quiet.

he ran a hand over his buzzed head, his jaw tightening. “because i can’t stop thinking about you. because no matter what i do, it always comes back to you.”

flashback: the breakup

it wasn’t one fight that ended things. it was a hundred little ones.

but the final straw came one night when rafe showed up drunk to your birthday dinner, hours late and reeking of whiskey.

“you couldn’t even try,” you said, your voice shaking as he leaned against the doorway of your apartment.

“i’m here, aren’t i?” he slurred, his words biting.

“this isn’t working, rafe,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “we’re not working.”

“don’t do this,” he said, his tone desperate. “please, y/n. don’t.”

but it was already done.

a small, genuine smile spread across his face. “as slow as you need.” and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe in the possibility of almost, always.

present day: the second chance

“you hurt me,” you said, your voice trembling as you stood on the dock, staring at the boy who had once been your world.

“i know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “and i’ll never forgive myself for that. but i swear, y/n, i’m not that guy anymore.”

you looked at him, really looked at him. his buzzed hair, his tired eyes, the way his shoulders seemed lighter but still carried the weight of something unspoken.

“why should i believe you?” you asked.

he stepped closer, his voice soft but steady. “because i’m still standing here, trying. because you’re the only thing that’s ever felt worth it.”

your heart ached, torn between fear and hope.

“we’ll take it slow,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

[th3mrskory]

Chapter 5: Bridging the distance

Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!LoganWarning: none. Just fluff, but the slow burn is starting to burn a little faster.

Word count: 7.3k

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting warm hues over the cottage as Evelyn wiped her hands on a dish towel for the fifth time. The small dining table was set with mismatched plates, a modest bouquet of wildflowers sitting in a glass jar at its center. She stared at it for a moment, chewing her lip. Did it look too formal? Too casual? Did he even care? Her stomach twisted with nerves as she double-checked the food. The roast looked decent, the vegetables hadn’t burned, and the dessert—something simple—sat cooling on the counter. It wasn’t about impressing him. Not really. She just wanted him to feel… welcomed.

As the rumble of Logan’s truck echoed up the driveway, she caught her reflection in the window—hair slightly tousled, cheeks flushed from the heat of the kitchen. She smoothed her hands over her shirt and exhaled deeply, steeling herself before opening the door.

Logan hesitated before stepping out of the truck. The soft glow of the cottage’s windows spilled into the dusk, the warm light a stark contrast to the cool night air. He’d spent all day convincing himself that this was just dinner—nothing more, nothing less. But standing at her door, he felt the weight of his own expectations settle heavily in his chest.

The door swung open, and there she stood, her eyes meeting his with a nervous smile that somehow made his pulse stutter. “Hey,” she said softly, stepping aside to let him in. “Evening,” he replied, the deep timbre of his voice filling the small entryway.

The scent of roasting herbs and something sweet wafted through the air, mingling with the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. He took it all in—the table set with care, the way she’d clearly put thought into every detail.

“Hope you’re hungry,” she said as they settled at the table, gesturing to the spread. “Smells good,” Logan said, his voice low but sincere.

The meal started with polite conversation—updates on the cottage renovations, small talk about the weather, and light teasing about Logan’s persistent tendency to do things without asking for thanks. “You know,” she said, pointing her fork at him, “you’ve practically rebuilt half the house by now. I should be naming rooms after you or something.” Logan smirked faintly, shaking his head. “Just doing what needs doing.”

As the conversation unfolded, the tension began to ease. Logan’s baritone laughter rumbled softly at her recounting of a mishap at the market, and she found herself leaning into his quiet presence, the ease of his company settling over her like a blanket.

After dinner, they lingered in the living room, sipping tea as the fire crackled in the hearth. Logan sat on the edge of the couch, his broad frame relaxed but still carrying that quiet intensity she’d come to associate with him.

She hesitated before speaking, her voice quiet but steady. “I’ve been thinking about… everything you’ve done for me. The repairs, the firewood. Dinner was the least I could do, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.” “You don’t owe me anything,” he replied, his tone even.

Her gaze flicked to his, the firelight dancing in her eyes. “Maybe not. But I still want to say thank you—for all of it.”

Logan didn’t respond immediately, his brow furrowing slightly as he held her gaze. She could see the question there, the silent wondering if she meant more than the words she was saying.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up that day,” she added softly, her voice wavering just enough to betray her vulnerability.

The silence stretched between them, charged with unspoken tension. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

And then, without fully thinking it through, she leaned forward.

Her hand brushed his, tentative but deliberate, and when he didn’t pull away, she closed the remaining distance, her lips pressing softly against his.

For a moment, Logan didn’t move, as though caught off guard. Then, his hand came up to rest gently against her jaw, his touch firm but careful, as though afraid of breaking her. The kiss deepened slightly, their breaths mingling in the warmth of the firelight.

But just as quickly as it had begun, she pulled back, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

“I—” she started, her voice trembling. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Logan’s eyes searched hers, his hand lingering just long enough to make her heart skip before he let it fall back to his lap. “Don’t apologize,” he said quietly, his voice rough. “Not for that.”

“I’m sorry if I—” “You didn’t,” he interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. “I just…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I didn’t have to,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I wanted to. I just—” She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I’m scared.”

Logan nodded slowly, his expression softening. “That makes two of us.”

They sat in the quiet for a while, neither rushing to fill the space. When Logan finally stood to leave, Evelyn walked him to the door, her emotions a tangled mess of uncertainty and something dangerously close to hope.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, his voice low but genuine.

“Thanks for coming,” she replied, her lips curving into a small, tentative smile.

As he stepped out into the night, she watched him go, her heart still racing from the kiss and the unspoken promise it seemed to carry.

______________________________________________________________

The soft light of dawn filtered through the thin curtains, pulling Evelyn from a restless sleep. She lay still for a moment, her mind already swirling with the memory of the night before. Her fingers brushed her lips instinctively, as if they could still feel the ghost of Logan’s touch.

Why had she kissed him?

Her chest tightened as the question lingered. She sat up slowly, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring at the faint embers glowing in the hearth. It wasn’t regret she felt—it was confusion. Fear. And maybe, if she was honest with herself, hope.

The fear gnawed at her, though. She’d been here before—feeling something, letting someone in—only to watch it fall apart. Logan was steady, patient, and kind in ways that unsettled her because they felt too genuine, too real. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself to let him in, let alone trust him not to leave.

She groaned softly, burying her face in her hands. “What are you doing, Evelyn?” she whispered to herself.

After a few minutes, she stood and moved through her morning routine. The fire needed stoking, the kitchen needed tidying, and the half-finished crochet vest she’d abandoned last night sat waiting for her by the window. The rhythmic click of her needles would usually calm her, but today, even that felt insufficient.

______________________________________________________________

Logan woke early, the cool air of his cabin doing little to shake the memory of her kiss. He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a frustrated breath as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He hadn’t meant to rush things last night. Hell, he hadn’t even meant to kiss her. But the way she’d looked at him, her words so raw and honest, had tugged at something deep inside him. And now? Now, he wasn’t sure where they stood.

He shrugged on a flannel shirt and boots, determined to keep himself busy. The logging site would be a welcome distraction—or so he thought.

By the time he arrived, the other men were already milling about, their chatter filling the crisp morning air. Logan wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but his silence didn’t deter them.

“Morning, Howlett,” Pete called out, grinning as he hefted a bundle of tools. “You look like you didn’t sleep a damn wink.”

Logan grunted, grabbing an ax and slinging it over his shoulder.

Rick leaned against a nearby log stack, smirking. “What’s the matter? Got too much on your mind?”

Another chuckled. “Bet he’s thinking about her—you know, the pretty one with the cottage.”

Logan shot them a warning glare, his voice low and edged. “You’ve got time to gossip, you’ve got time to haul more logs.”

The men exchanged knowing looks but didn’t press further. Even they weren’t foolish enough to push Logan when his mood was this sour.

______________________________________________________________

Evelyn sat by the window, her crochet needles clicking softly as she worked on the vest. She’d chosen a deep green yarn, the color reminding her of the forest—the one place Logan seemed most at home.

It wasn’t just a gift. It was her way of saying thank you. For being there. For staying. For seeing her in ways she sometimes struggled to see herself.

When she finished, she held the vest up to the light, inspecting her work. It wasn’t perfect, but maybe that was fitting. Neither of them was perfect, but somehow, they worked.

She folded it neatly, tying it with a piece of twine, and attached a small note:

"For everything. Thank you. - Evelyn"

Her nerves buzzed as she drove to Logan’s cabin that evening. His truck wasn’t in the driveway, but the faint glow of a lamp inside told her he wasn’t far. She hesitated for a moment before setting the package on the porch and heading back to her truck.

As she drove away, she couldn’t help but hope he’d understand what the gift meant—what she couldn’t quite put into words.

______________________________________________________________

Logan returned home late, exhaustion tugging at his limbs as he stepped out of his truck. His eyes caught on the small package waiting on his porch.

He crouched down, picking it up carefully. The yarn was soft beneath his rough fingers, the note tied to it catching his eye. As he read the words, something stirred in his chest—an emotion he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.

Slipping the vest on, he immediately felt the warmth. Not just from the fabric, but from the thoughtfulness behind it. He ran a thumb over the note again before tucking it into his pocket.

She’d made this for him.

The thought stayed with him all night, a quiet reassurance in the face of the uncertainty lingering between them.

______________________________________________________________

Logan’s truck rumbled up the driveway, the familiar sound stirring a mix of anticipation and nerves in her chest. She opened the door just as he stepped out, and for a moment, her eyes caught on the green vest she’d crocheted for him. It fit snugly, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders, and the sight sent an unexpected warmth curling through her.

“You’re wearing it,” she said, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.

Logan nodded, his expression calm but genuine. “It’s good work.”

A smile tugged at her lips, her earlier hesitation melting away. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Anything need fixing today?” he asked, his hands tucked into his pockets.

She hesitated, suddenly self-conscious about how much she relied on him. But then she caught the faint softness in his eyes, and the words came more easily. “The pantry door’s been sticking, and the windows in the bedroom let in a little too much cold. If you have time.”

Logan gave a short nod, stepping past her into the cottage. “Let’s take a look.”

The warmth from the fire wrapped around them as they moved into the kitchen. She gestured toward the pantry door. His movements were deliberate, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

“It gets stuck right here,” she said, tapping the frame where the wood had warped slightly.

Logan knelt to inspect it, running his fingers over the uneven edge. “I’ll plane it down. Shouldn’t take long.”

As he set to work, Evelyn leaned against the counter, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. His hands moved with practiced ease, steady and deliberate, every motion efficient.

“You’re good at this,” she remarked after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence.

Logan glanced up briefly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Been fixing things my whole life.”

“Were you always a handyman?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Not always,” he replied, his tone cryptic. “Picked it up over time.”

She sensed there was more to his story, but she didn’t press. Instead, she grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. “Coffee?”

“Sure,” he said, his focus returning to the door.

The rhythmic scrape of the plane against wood filled the room as she poured the coffee. She set a steaming mug on the counter beside him, the warmth of her gesture unspoken but clear.

“Thanks,” he said gruffly, pausing to take a sip before returning to his work.

As he worked on the pantry, she lingered nearby, sipping her coffee and stealing glances at him. There was something grounding about his presence—the quiet steadiness that seemed to fill every corner of the room.

By mid-morning, they’d moved to the bedroom, where a chill seeped through the worn frames of the windows. Logan inspected the gaps with a critical eye, his brow furrowed in thought.

“You’ll need weatherstripping,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “I can patch it for now, but it’ll only hold until the next storm.”

“I’ll add it to my shopping list,” she replied, pulling a blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Unless you want to come with me to the hardware store next time.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “That an invitation?”

“More like a bribe,” she shot back, her tone light. “You know your way around tools better than I do.”

He huffed softly, a sound that might’ve been a laugh, and began securing the temporary patch.

As he worked, she busied herself folding a stack of crocheted blankets near the bed, stealing occasional glances at him. The way he moved, quiet but deliberate, filled the room with a sense of steadiness she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

“Do you ever take a break?” she teased, crossing her arms as he straightened from the window.

He gave her a sideways glance. “Not when there’s work to do.”

“Well, there’s soup on the stove if you’re hungry,” she offered, gesturing toward the kitchen.

Logan hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright.”

They sat together at the small kitchen table, the silence between them punctuated only by the clink of spoons against ceramic.

“This is good,” Logan said after a few bites, his tone matter-of-fact.

“You sound surprised,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Not surprised,” he replied, meeting her gaze. “Just impressed.”

A quiet laugh escaped her, and she shook her head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Logan’s lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his face.

As the afternoon stretched on, Logan replaced a loose floorboard in the hallway while she crocheted by the fire. The hours slipped by, marked by small exchanges and the comforting rhythm of shared tasks.

When he packed up his tools, she hesitated near the kitchen counter, her fingers twisting the edge of her shirt. “Would you want to stay for dinner?” she asked, her voice quiet but sincere.

Logan looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nodded. “Sure.”

Dinner was a simpler affair than lunch, the food more about comfort than impressing anyone. They talked in quiet bursts between bites, their conversation weaving through lighthearted topics and the occasional teasing remark.

Afterward, as she cleared the plates, Logan stood. “I’ve got it,” he said, taking the dishes from her hands and moving to the sink.

She watched him for a moment, her heart twisting at the simple kindness of the gesture. The sight of him at her sink—so at ease in her space—stirred something deep and unfamiliar.

“Thanks,” she murmured, leaning against the counter.

He nodded, scrubbing a plate with deliberate care. The steady rhythm of the water and his movements filled the quiet.

Without fully thinking it through, she stepped closer, her hand brushing against his as she reached for the towel. He froze, his gaze flicking to hers, and in that moment, the world seemed to still.

Logan’s hands stilled on the last dish, his focus divided between the sound of the running water and her quiet presence behind him. As he placed the plate on the drying rack, she stepped closer, the space between them shrinking until it felt almost electric.

"You're really determined to make yourself useful, aren't you?" she teased softly, her voice light but edged with something she couldn’t quite name.

Logan turned, the towel in his hand forgotten as his gaze dropped to hers. His presence loomed in the small kitchen, grounding and overwhelming all at once.

"Figured it’s the least I can do after dinner," he said, his voice low, steady. But his eyes lingered, betraying something deeper.

Evelyn tilted her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "You’ve already done enough, Logan."

He huffed softly, his lips twitching in what might’ve been the ghost of a smirk. "Not sure about that."

The fire crackled faintly in the living room, the only sound breaking the quiet tension that hung between them. Her heart pounded in her chest as she took a small step forward, her fingers brushing against the edge of the counter.

"Logan," she started, but her voice faltered when his eyes locked onto hers, sharp yet unreadable.

"What?" he asked, his tone soft yet weighted.

For a moment, she froze, her breath hitching as she searched his face for hesitation, for any sign that she shouldn’t cross the line she’d been tiptoeing around all day. But there was none.

So she closed the distance.

Her hands reached out, tentative at first, resting lightly against his chest as she leaned up on her toes. Logan didn’t move, his broad frame still as though he was waiting for her to decide. And then, before she could second-guess herself, her lips met his.

The kiss started soft, uncertain, but when Logan’s hands came up to her waist, pulling her closer, it shifted. His grip was firm, grounding her as his lips moved against hers with an intensity that made her knees weak.

Her hands slid up his chest, curling into the fabric of his shirt as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tightening on her hips. The kitchen seemed to shrink around them, the edges of the world blurring until all she could feel was him—his warmth, his strength, the quiet restraint in the way he held her.

Her back pressed against the counter as his lips trailed from hers, brushing along her jaw and down to the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. She gasped softly, her fingers sliding into his hair as her body leaned instinctively into his.

"Logan," she murmured, her voice breathless and unsteady.

He paused, his forehead resting against hers as they both fought to catch their breath. His hands still rested at her waist, his grip steady but no longer insistent.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice rough but careful.

Her heart stuttered at the question, at the tenderness beneath his words. She nodded, her fingers loosening their hold on his shirt to cup his face instead.

"Yeah," she whispered, her lips brushing his as she spoke. "It’s more than okay."

Logan exhaled, the tension in his body easing slightly, though the intensity in his gaze didn’t waver. He kissed her again, slower this time, but no less consuming. His hands roamed her back, her shoulders, anchoring her to him as though he needed the reassurance of her presence as much as she needed his.

When they finally broke apart, her chest heaved as she leaned against him, her forehead pressing lightly to his collarbone. His fingers traced gentle patterns along her spine, the movement soothing despite the storm still raging in her chest.

"That," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she glanced up at him, "was… unexpected."

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his lips quirking into a small smile.

They stood there for a long moment, the warmth of his body against hers chasing away the chill of the night.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his thumb brushing along her hip.

She nodded, her smile shy but genuine. "I think so."

Logan’s eyes softened, and he dipped his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before stepping back just enough to give her space.

"Good," he said simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance that made her heart ache in the best way.

The air in the cottage felt different now—warmer, charged, like the fire in the hearth wasn’t the only thing giving off heat. Evelyn sat on the couch with a mug of tea, staring at the flames as they danced and flickered. Logan was still in the kitchen, finishing the last of the cleanup, but her mind lingered on the kiss they’d shared.

She traced the rim of her mug absently, her lips still tingling with the memory of his. It had been unexpected, yet it felt… right. Like crossing a threshold she hadn’t realized she’d been standing at for weeks. But it also terrified her. Letting someone in, even someone as steady as Logan, was a risk she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

The sound of footsteps broke her reverie. Logan appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. His expression was calmer now, the intensity from earlier replaced with something quieter—more grounded.

“You’re staring at that fire like it’s got all the answers,” he said, his tone light but with that familiar edge of seriousness.

She glanced up, startled, then gave him a small smile. “Maybe I’m hoping it does.”

He pushed off the doorway and stepped closer, settling into the armchair across from her. His frame filled the space effortlessly, and even though he wasn’t touching her, his presence felt just as consuming as it had in the kitchen.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

She nodded, though her fingers tightened around the mug. “Yeah. Just… a lot to process.”

Logan didn’t rush her, didn’t push for more. He just sat there, his gaze steady and patient. She appreciated that about him—the way he let her find her footing instead of trying to drag her along.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” she admitted after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Neither was I,” he said, his tone carrying that same quiet honesty that seemed to anchor her.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like the room shrank around them, leaving just the two of them in the soft glow of the firelight.

“Do you regret it?” he asked, his voice so quiet it almost blended with the crackle of the flames.

She shook her head immediately. “No. I don’t. But I’m scared.”

Logan nodded slowly, as if he’d been expecting her answer. “Scared of what?”

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. How could she explain the fear of opening herself up again, the fear of letting someone see all the broken pieces she was still trying to put back together?

“Of getting hurt,” she said finally, her voice trembling. “Of losing… something I didn’t even know I wanted.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m not him,” he said simply.

Her breath hitched, the directness of his words cutting through her defenses like a blade.

“I know,” she said softly. “But that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”

Logan nodded, his gaze steady on hers. “I’m not going anywhere, Evelyn. Not unless you tell me to.”

The conviction in his voice sent a ripple through her chest, a mixture of relief and fear intertwining in a way that left her feeling raw.

She looked down at her mug, her fingers tracing its rim again. “You’re… too good at this,” she murmured, her lips curving into a faint, shaky smile.

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back in the chair. “Just trying to be honest.”

Honesty. It was such a simple concept, yet it felt like the most complicated thing in the world. But as she looked at him—really looked at him—she realized that maybe, just maybe, it didn’t have to be.

“I’m trying,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I don’t know how to do this, but I’m trying.”

Logan gave her a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that spoke volumes—soft, tentative, like the air before a storm. Evelyn ran her fingers along the edge of her mug, her thoughts spiraling as she weighed her next words.

Finally, she took a deep breath and looked at him. “Can we take this slow?” Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed the vulnerability beneath the surface. “I need time, Logan. I want to give myself to you—completely—but I need you to be patient with me.”

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. He sat forward slightly, his forearms resting on his knees as he leaned closer. “I’m not in a rush,” he said, his voice low and steady. “We do this your way.I’ll be here.”

Her chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone. He wasn’t trying to convince her, wasn’t pushing her to move faster than she could manage. He was offering her the one thing she hadn’t expected—understanding.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her lips curving into a faint smile.

Logan nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “You’re worth it,” he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Her heart stuttered at his words, the quiet confidence behind them wrapping around her like a balm. It wasn’t just the words themselves; it was the way he said them, like they were a truth he’d known all along.

“I’m not used to this,” she admitted after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper. “Someone… waiting for me.”

Logan leaned back slightly, his expression softening as his lips curved into the faintest smile. “Guess I’m not like most people.”

Her laugh was quiet but genuine, breaking the tension that had settled between them. “No, you’re not.”

The fire crackled softly, filling the space between their words. Evelyn set her mug down on the small table beside the couch, her hands finally still after what felt like hours of fidgeting.

“I’ll try not to drive you crazy,” she said, her tone teasing but laced with sincerity.

Logan huffed softly, the sound almost like a laugh. “I can handle it.”

She tilted her head, her smile widening as she studied him. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

He shrugged, his gaze warm but steady. “Just sure of you.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to face her fears alone.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as her eyes momentarily lowered to her hands. Her fingers curled slightly in a hesitant, almost protective gesture. “The last person who was supposed to wait for me… left.” She cleared her throat quietly, her voice growing quieter. “Just a letter. Said he couldn’t do it.”

There was a brief pause before she looked up, meeting his gaze with a rawness she hadn’t planned to reveal. “I don’t… I don’t like to make people wait for me. It doesn’t usually go well.”

Logan’s eyes softened, his expression still calm but now carrying a hint of understanding. He didn’t speak right away, simply allowing the weight of her words to linger between them, neither pushing her nor pulling away.

After a long moment, Evelyn smiled again, though it was faint. “I’m trying to get better at it,” she added, as if to reassure herself.

Logan gave a small nod, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to try so hard with me, Evelyn.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to face her fears alone.

They stayed there for a while longer, the fire burning low as the night deepened. When Logan finally stood to leave, Evelyn walked him to the door, the softness of their earlier conversation still lingering in the air.

He paused in the doorway, turning to face her. “Good night,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Good night,” she replied, her smile small but genuine.

As he stepped out into the cool night, she watched him go, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. Inside, as the embers in the hearth flickered faintly, she knew this was only the beginning of something new. Something she wasn’t ready to name but was finally willing to face.

______________________________________________________________

The night air had a crisp edge, the cool breeze rustling through the pines as Logan made his way to the truck. His hand lingered on the door handle for a moment before he glanced back at the cottage. The warm glow of the windows stood out against the dark, a quiet beacon that felt more inviting than any place he’d known in years.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he climbed into the truck. The engine rumbled to life, and as he drove away, the scent of the fire and the lingering warmth of Evelyn’s kiss stayed with him, stirring something deep and unfamiliar in his chest. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his mind replaying the evening—the way she’d smiled, the hesitance in her touch, and the softness in her eyes when she leaned in. It was dangerous, the way she was starting to make him feel like he belonged to something more than just the solitude he’d grown used to.

Inside, Evelyn leaned against the door for a moment after closing it, her fingers brushing against her lips as if to preserve the memory of the kiss. The weight that had pressed on her for months felt lighter, replaced by something warmer, steadier—a tentative hope she hadn’t dared let herself feel before.

The following morning arrived with the soft glow of winter sunlight filtering through the cottage windows. Evelyn stretched lazily, the events of the previous night replaying in her mind like a half-remembered dream. Her cheeks warmed as she recalled the kiss—the way it had ignited something within her that she wasn’t quite ready to name.

She let herself savor the memory for a moment before throwing off the covers and heading to the kitchen. The smell of coffee filled the small space as she poured herself a mug, her thoughts drifting to Logan. Was he thinking about her too?

“Get a grip,” she muttered, taking a sip of coffee.

She glanced at the crocheting she’d left on the arm of the couch—a nearly finished sweater, simple but sturdy, made with care. She ran her fingers over the soft yarn, debating whether she’d be bold enough to give it to him. Would he see it as too personal? The thought sent a flutter of nerves through her chest, but the memory of his steady presence reassured her. Logan wasn’t the kind of man who overthought gestures. If he accepted it, he’d do so simply and honestly.

Meanwhile, Logan was already knee-deep in work at the logging site. The familiar rhythm of chopping wood and loading the truck was grounding, his body moving on autopilot as his mind wandered. He replayed the night before, the warmth of her touch and the way she’d looked at him—a mixture of uncertainty and trust that made his chest tighten.

“Hey, Howlett!” Rick’s voice broke through his thoughts. The wiry man leaned on his ax with a knowing grin. “You’re quieter than usual today. Something on your mind?”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.“Nothing that concerns you.”

Rick raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just saying—it’s nice to see you lightening up a bit.”

Logan huffed a soft laugh despite himself, shaking his head as he turned back to the pile of logs. The teasing didn’t bother him as much as it might have once. If anything, it reminded him of how much his life had shifted since Evelyn had entered it.

Later that day, Evelyn decided to take a walk into town. The cold air bit at her cheeks, but the exercise felt good, clearing her mind and easing some of the nervous energy that had been building since the night before. She stopped by the market to pick up a few things and exchanged pleasantries with Nancy, who greeted her with a warm smile.

“You’re glowing today,” Nancy remarked as she rang up Evelyn’s purchases.

“Am I?” Evelyn asked, her cheeks flushing.

Nancy tilted her head, her knowing smile deepening. “Must be something in the air.”

Evelyn laughed softly, shaking her head. “Or maybe it’s just the cold.”

As she stepped out of the market, the brisk air nipped at her cheeks, carrying with it the quiet hum of the town going about its day. She adjusted the strap of her bag, her thoughts wandering back to the vest she’d left on the couch and the man it was meant for.

She hesitated at the corner, the familiar path to her cottage stretching ahead of her. But instead of turning toward home, her feet stilled, the decision forming before she fully realized it. Maybe it was Nancy’s words, or maybe it was the nagging feeling in her chest, but suddenly, she couldn’t wait any longer.

Deciding to take a chance, she turned on her heel and started walking toward the logging company. The closer she got, the more her nerves began to hum, but she pushed the feeling aside. She wasn’t going to let fear hold her back—not this time

When she arrived at the logging site, the steady rhythm of work filled the air—axes chopping, saws buzzing, and the occasional shout as logs were loaded onto trucks. A few of the men glanced her way, their expressions ranging from curious to friendly.

One of the older men, a broad-shouldered guy with a kind face, stepped forward, wiping his hands on his flannel shirt. “You must be looking for Logan,” he said, his voice gruff but welcoming, his eyes crinkling at the edges with a knowing smile.

Evelyn nodded, clutching the bag of groceries she’d brought with her. “Is he here?”

The man exchanged a glance with a younger logger nearby, who smirked knowingly before returning to his work. “He’s out back,” the older man said, gesturing toward a narrow path that disappeared into the woods. “Just follow that trail there. Can’t miss him.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling politely.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his tone softening as he looked at her more closely. “And, miss, if you don’t mind me saying… it’s good to see Logan getting a little company.”

Another man, leaning against the bed of a truck, chimed in with a teasing grin, “Yeah, he’s been in a better mood lately. Not sure what’s changed, though.”

The older man shot him a warning look, but there was no malice in his tone. “Alright, alright. Don’t scare her off. Go on, miss—he’s just down that way.”

Evelyn felt her cheeks warm as she ducked her head. “Thanks again,” she said before heading toward the trail, her nerves tingling with each step.

As she walked away, she heard one of the men mutter, “Lucky guy. About time someone cracked that shell of his.”

______________________________________________________________

As she made her way down the narrow path, the sounds of the logging site faded into the distance. The trees grew denser, their bare branches weaving into a canopy above. Finally, she spotted him—Logan, shirt sleeves rolled up despite the cold, his ax moving with steady precision as he split a log in two.

She hesitated for a moment, watching him work. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved, his strength and focus blending into an almost meditative rhythm. Finally, she cleared her throat, stepping into view.

Logan glanced up, his expression softening when he saw her. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I figured it was time for me to return the favor,” she said, holding up the small paper bag. “Brought you something sweet.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, setting the ax down as he approached. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she replied, her lips curving into a small smile. “But I wanted to.”

He took the bag from her, his fingers brushing against hers for a brief moment. The touch lingered in the space between them before he cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

They found a spot near the edge of the clearing to sit. The quiet hum of the woods surrounded them, the distant sound of axes and machinery fading into the background. Logan opened the bag, pulling out a neatly wrapped pastry—something soft and golden, the faint scent of cinnamon wafting from it.

“Cinnamon rolls?” he asked, his brow lifting slightly.

“They’re Nancy’s,” Evelyn said, brushing her hands over her knees nervously. “I figured you could use something sweet after all this hard work.”

He huffed softly—a sound close to a laugh—and took a bite, his expression softening as he chewed. “Not bad.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Nancy you approve.” she teased, her grin widening.

Logan smirked faintly, finishing the roll in a few bites. As they sat there, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by comfortable silences that felt more like pauses than gaps. She told him about Nancy’s insistence on her trying the cinnamon rolls, and he shared a few dry observations about the logging crew’s antics.

When the rolls were gone, Logan leaned back against a tree, his arms resting on his knees as he studied her with that quiet, unreadable gaze. “You didn’t just come all this way to bring me cinnamon rolls, did you?”

Evelyn hesitated, her heart pounding as his words hung in the air. “No,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to see you.”

Logan’s expression softened, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I know,” she said, her voice growing steadier.” She hesitated, her hands fidgeting slightly in her lap before she looked back at him. “I want to try—to let you in. I’m just… not great at this.”

Logan studied her quietly, the faint breeze ruffling his hair as he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “You don’t have to be great at it,” he said, his voice low but steady. He paused, his gaze softening as it lingered on hers. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

His words settled over her like a balm, soothing the frayed edges of her nerves. A small, grateful smile tugged at her lips.

They lingered in the clearing for a little longer, their conversation flowing more easily now. It wasn’t anything grand—just small observations, quiet moments of shared understanding—but it felt important. Real. When Logan finally stood, brushing his hands off on his jeans, he nodded toward the path leading back to the logging site.

“Come on,” he said, his tone lighter now. “I’ll walk you back.”

Evelyn felt the warmth of Logan’s presence beside her, the steady sound of his boots crunching against the forest floor grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected.

When they reached the edge of the logging site, she turned to face him, her nerves humming faintly. “Thanks for walking me back,” she said, her voice softer now.

Logan nodded, his gaze steady on hers. “Anytime.”

There was a brief pause, the kind of moment that stretched and swelled with unspoken possibilities. Then, acting on an impulse she didn’t fully understand but didn’t want to ignore, Evelyn leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. It was soft, fleeting, but it carried the weight of her promise—a promise to try, to let him in, even if it scared her.

When she pulled back, her cheeks warmed, she glanced away, biting back a shy smile. “I’ll see you later.”

Logan’s lips curved into the faintest of smirks, his hand brushing against hers briefly before he stepped back. “Yeah. Later.”

As she walked away, her footsteps light on the gravel path, Logan watched her go, the smirk lingering on his face. He turned to find a few of the guys standing nearby, their expressions ranging from amused to smug.

“Not a word,” Logan muttered, his tone carrying a warning edge.

One of the older men chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Another chimed in, grinning. “I call best man.”

“Idiots,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no real heat behind the word. As the crew laughed and returned to their work, Logan found himself glancing back at the path where she’d disappeared, the memory of her kiss still lingering like an ember refusing to fade.

______________________________________________________________

The walk back to her cottage felt lighter than it had in weeks, the crisp air no longer carrying the same weight it usually did.

By the time she reached her porch, the cottage’s familiar charm greeted her like a warm embrace. The fire she’d left burning in the hearth had settled into glowing embers, and as she stepped inside, the quiet solitude of her home felt different now.

She set the bag from the market on the counter, unpacking the remaining items while her mind continued to wander. There was still so much she didn’t know about Logan, so many layers to the man who had somehow become her anchor in this small, quiet town. But for the first time, the uncertainty didn’t feel overwhelming.

Instead, it felt… hopeful.

As she settled onto the couch, her crocheting in her lap, she glanced out the window. The stars above Clearwater twinkled brightly, the kind of vast, open sky she never got used to. Her fingers moved instinctively over the yarn, weaving a familiar pattern into something new, something for him.

She wasn’t sure where this path with Logan would lead—whether it would be smooth or full of unexpected turns—but she knew she wanted to see it through. She wanted to let him in, to take that chance.

And judging by the way her chest felt lighter tonight, she was finally ready to try.

______________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, back at the logging site, Logan finished loading the last stack of logs onto the truck, his body moving on autopilot. His mind, however, was miles away—back in the clearing, where her soft laugh still echoed faintly in his ears.

“Good day, huh?” one of the crew teased as they packed up for the evening.

Logan shot him a sidelong glance, but there was no heat behind it. “Just finish loading the truck,” he muttered, though the faint smirk on his face didn’t go unnoticed.

As he climbed into his truck and drove home, the rhythmic hum of the engine did little to drown out the thoughts swirling in his mind. Her warmth, her laughter, the way her lips had curved into that tentative smile—it was all imprinted on him now, like a map leading to something he didn’t fully understand but was willing to follow.

For the first time in years, the road ahead didn’t feel so empty.

______________________________________________________________

Back at the cottage, Evelyn set aside her crocheting and climbed into bed, pulling the quilt up to her chin. The weight of the day settled over her—not heavy or burdensome, but grounding, like she was finally finding her footing.

As sleep claimed her, the warmth of Logan’s presence remained, lingering in the corners of her thoughts and in the quiet certainty of her heart.

They were both moving slowly, cautiously, but for the first time in a long time, they were moving forward.

Together

Chapter 4

_______________________________________________________________tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

@coocoocachewgotscrewed @latinapiscess @littlebunnybigheartfics @themareverine @pandapetals @logansbaby @the-quick-red-fox @throwmethroughawindow @ifyouseethisnoyoudont22 @galacticglitterglue @whos-nin1

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© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[forunct]

[3:49 am] ♡ + drunk!reader, caring!jungwoo

you’ve been out with your best friends celebrating their engagements all night. you had spent all day yesterday helping their partners plan both proposals, one was an intricate scavenger hunt through their favorite hiking trails and the other was a surprise photoshoot with an elaborate background. it was really difficult keeping the both of them distracted for the day, considering how close the three of you are but you made it happen. it warmed your heart to see their faces as their partners popped the question. it left you with just the smallest bit of jealousy though, things with jungwoo are great but you’re not sure what the next step is if not an engagement and that worries you.

things are starting to slow down at the club and you’re missing jungwoo and his warm embrace. your friends are starting to float towards the bar to order glasses of water, and you’re starting to think this is the perfect time to call it a night.

“i'm starting to get tired,” you drag out the word tired to emphasize your exhaustion. they both nod in agreement, this has been the latest you guys have stayed out since college.

one by one, each of your ubers showed up to take you back to your respective homes and partners. you’ve had quite a bit to drink so your reaction time is severely off. jungwoo startles you as he swings the front door open while you search for your keys.

“jeez, you scared the crap out of me!” your hand is over your heart trying to get it to slow while he looks at you. jungwoo mumbles a half coherent apology as you take in his appearance. his hair is disheveled, he’s in his pajama pants, and no shirt. you assume he was sleeping before he heard the uber pull in the driveway. he’s pulling you inside before you can even form any kind of greeting.

“i’ve been waiting for you for hours y/n,” jungwoo walks you to the couch to help you take off your heels. “you told me you’d be back by 2 am, not 4 am, baby.” you can hear the concern in his voice, you clearly worried him.

“i know and i’m sorry, we were only supposed to go to two bars but we were having so much fun and got a little carried away. i should’ve texted you.” your voice is small, you know what you did was wrong.

“yeah, you should’ve,” jungwoo’s tone is sharp as he’s helping you take off your jacket and the hair pins from your hair. “i could’ve picked you up, y/n. you know how i feel about ubering this late.” the guilt is racking up by the second and all of the emotions from the night are starting to make your throat close up.

“i’m really sorry i worried you jungwoo,” your voice started to crack and he immediately took you in his arms, obviously regretting using such a stern voice on you when you’re drunk.

“i’m sorry i’m being snappy, baby. it’s just late and i haven’t slept since you left.” jungwoo’s voice is just above a whisper as he tucks your head under his chin. he’s rubbing small circles into your hip as you curl into a ball next to him.

“do you want to marry me?” the question comes as a surprise to both of you after it leaves your lips. it’s a question you’ve been wanting an answer to for awhile, you were just unsure of how to ask it, turns out being blunt was the best way to get it out.

jungwoo’s silence is deafening to you, it feels like it goes on for minutes when in reality it only takes him thirty seconds to give you an answer.

“1000% yes. that’s a no-brainer, my love. i want to spend the rest of my life with you. i love you.” you can hear the smile on jungwoo’s face and your heart warms after he tells you exactly what his intentions are. you prop yourself up on your knees to see his face, just looking at him makes you smile ear-to-ear.

“i love you too, jungwoo. so much.” he smiles back at you, his eyes leaving yours for a second to steal a glance at your lips before leaving you breathless in a heated kiss.

[your-nanas-house]

Christmas together

◇ Pairing: Patricia 'Kitten' Braden X fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: fluff, angst, prostitution, Christmas dinner, acting/roleplay, friends to lovers, kisses, description of female clothes

◇ Summary: Kitten finds herself stuck spending the Christmas with a "stranger".

◇ Note: Another fantastic collaboration with @mrkdvidal1989 and another fic of the new "event" 'From love to Love'.

This night was particularly cold, even for these areas. Walking nearly blindly in the dark streets, Kitten had to wrap herself tightly in her jacket that.. wasn't particularly adapted to such weather.. both jacket and Kitten. 

Hugging herself, she walked bravely, hoping that no disgusting man would stop her on her path, as the night was long as it is. 

The wind was so strong that her curly brown hair was blowing in every direction, and there was no use in trying to fix them. Every few seconds they would keep flying into her eyes anyway. 

Lost in her thoughts, Kitten looked only at the sidewalk, trying not to trip on the uneven curb as she heard loud whistling, making her turn around. 

”Hey, love! I'm afraid you need to fucking move, that's my zone!” a tall, blonde woman yelled from the other side of the street. Her too high red heels looked almost silly as she stood there, wearing fur and clumsily fixed makeup that… clearly went through something that night already. Rolling her eyes, Kitten huffed with annoyance under her breath as she turned to face her again.

”With your cheap looks, you should move one street further and stand right next to the Dollar Tree!” She replied in her unbothered tone, keeping her chin up despite the tiredness that she felt. The only response she got was a high pitched gasp which she clearly ignored, turning back on her tracks heading home. 

Not even a couple of minutes later a rich, clearly expensive car slowed down a couple of metres away from the woman, putting the car into reverse to go back and stop exactly next to her before lowering the car window.

Kitten didn't look right away, opting for the safer decision and keep walking— but then a female voice caught her attention. “Hi honey, uhm…” it sounded sweet and carrying but still a bit insecure as if she didn't know what to do exactly “Are you looking for… uh.. a ride by any chance?” The pretty woman asked, biting her bottom lip, awkwardly.

Kitten remained still on the sidewalk, her body frozen as her baby blue eyes stared intently at the stranger in confusion. Her mind was running wild as her body acted on its own, her slender hand opening the car door to see if it was a joke or if it was a serious offer, before climbing in. The warmth of the expensive car hugging her cold body in a lovely way, the comfortable seat nearly rocking her in a peaceful state of mind… not really thinking about the consequences of getting in a car with a stranger, again, Kitten eased into comfort of the warm vehicle with a sigh. 

Neither of them spoke up, incomprehensible awkwardness lingering in the air, as the engine purred smoothly under the hood of the car. 

Kitten’s eyes were a little heavy after a whole day of running around and spending a few hours outside in the cold weather, so accidental zoning out wasn't surprising. 

As soon as she woke up from the trance, she realised that the stranger was entering the property, wheels of the car scratching against the decorative rocks scattered on the driveway. 

Patricia's brows furrowed in confusion before she spoke up. 

”Um… why are we here?” She asked in a confused whisper, making Y/n glanced at the woman, not sure what to say at such a question. 

”I thought that well… it would be comfortable to maybe.. drink something before getting on with.. uh.. the ride, y’know?” she proposed timidly, not sure how to word it. 

That was the very first time for Y/n to… use the services of a prostitute, so she didn't know if the awkwardness was a normal thing or not. 

Tea before the ride, Kitten thought, oblivious to the time that the other woman used. A gentle smile appeared on her face as she nodded, getting out of the car. A warm drink sounded pretty good to her.

Y/n locked the car with her automatic key before heading to the house, gesturing to Kitten to follow her. 

As soon as the door shut behind Kitten’s back, she felt a little weird standing in a stranger's house.. almost in the middle of the night. Only now did she realise how actually dangerous the situation could be if the pretty woman she met turns out to be some sort of a… psychopath. She looked so innocent and caring though.

The beautiful woman offered to take her coat, hanging it at the front door before giving her slippers so that Kitten wouldn’t have walked barefoot on the cold floor of the house. As they both headed to a part of the penthouse, the lady leading and Kitten following, she spoke up first, glancing back to meet her baby blue eyes “Y/n!.. I-I’m Y/n” she giggled awkwardly, embarrassed to have scared her for a moment when she nearly screamed her name in her face 

“Kitten” Patricia replied with a tiny smile, noticing how awkward the situation was for her as well. Sighing, Y/n she tucked her hair behind her ear. 

“I’m sorry… it’s my first time, dear. I really have no idea how to approach this situation… herbal tea or just tea?” she explained, looking back at her when the question left her mouth. 

”Uhm.. Just tea.” Kitten replied, following Y/n to the kitchen before chuckling as she hugged herself lightly, to gain some more confidence. ”I.. I understand, for me it's unusual too.. to get a lift and.. meet someone that late at night, and now.. standing in your house to drink tea.” She chuckled, in her gentle voice, choosing her words carefully so as to not offend the woman of the house. 

Y/n smiled lightly, a soft look crossing her beautiful eyes,

“I’m sorry” she simply said as she prepared the tea “We can make things go a bit faster, if you want. I really don’t want to make you feel so uncomfortable” the shorter girl replied, biting her bottom lip nervously as she now poured the warm drink in a sophisticated cup “Sugar, darling?” she asked, offering her the cup while pushing the sugar closer. The… weird wording caught Patricia's attention quickly, especially combined with the awkwardness that Y/n felt. The weird feeling filled her head as she thought that something wasn't quite right. Watching Y/n she raised her brows, wheels in her head turning. 

After a moment she took the cup carefully, glancing at her to see if she was drinking it as well, before finally bringing up to her lipstick painted lips and taking a testing sip… a tender hum escaping her mouth when the warmth of the tea filled her body, making her wiggle softly and happily.

Y/n smiled at that, placing her empty cup back down on the marble table, before heading into another room 

“If you’re hungry you can take whatever you want from the fridge!” she informed Kitten, leaving her alone for a couple of minutes before appearing in the doorway again.

Her y/e/c eyes watched her silhouette around amazed, the cup still in her hand and no more cookies in the tiny dish she had left. She sure was hungry, the gorgeous lady thought, attempting to gather her courage and finally do something to cut the awkwardness. 

“Would you like something else to drink or eat or… should we just skip it and go on our.. Ride?” she asked with a sensual voice, the awkwardness and cringe she was feeling was still present, but she tried to hide it by dropping her silky robe onto the floor… revealing that way the red set of lingerie.

The silence took over the room as soon as the piece of clothing fell, Kitten’s eyes were wide as she stared, completely and utterly shocked. Looking like a lost puppy at the beautiful body of the stranger without saying a word, she just gasped, not understanding the turn of events that just took place.

”Uhm… What?” Kitten asked, blinking a couple times, keeping her gaze at Y/n’s eyes. The young woman’s body language started to shift, becoming more insecure just like her voice 

“Y-You… First the payment and then the “fun” or how does it work?” she whispered hesitantly with a worried expression, her eyes staring at Kitten, watching how her expression changed slowly as if she had just realised something

“Payment?” She gasped, her voice an octave higher than usual as her eyes widened and jaw fell slack, her lips parted. ”I’m.. I'm not a prostitute!” Patricia quickly explained, clearly offended. Her face softening when Y/n’s eyes started to fill up with tears of embarrassment, as she quickly put the robe back on with an ashamed look 

“I-I’m really sorry, I thought… fuck, I’m so stupid. You were so pretty and in that zone of the city. I shouldn’t have listened to Amanda” she kept rambling, feeling sorry and ashamed of her actions. 

“Hey, hey.. Don’t cry, sweetheart. You aren’t the first one that thought that” Patricia quickly explained, getting carefully up to move closer to her. ”It’s alright.” She spoke gently, wanting to calm Y/n down as she looked in her eyes. ”It was a misunderstanding, okay? I'll just… just leave now, and we'll act like it never happened.” She whispered with a weak smile, trying her best to comfort the pretty woman she met. Y/n sniffled, wiping her face with her hands as she shook her head.

”No.. no.. I'm sorry, just… don't go, please?” She asked, eyes still watery. ”We.. we don't have to do anything, I'm just… I'm really lonely so maybe I could pay you to just.. just spend Christmas here, with me?” Her voice was hopeful, Kitten could sense the hint of embarrassment in it, but Y/n didn't back off from her question. 

Patricia thought for a moment, thinking of how.. unusual that whole situation was with a chuckle. 

It's not like she had actual plans, right? With nobody at home, no friend around, she would spend Christmas fully on her own. Probably laying in bed and eating take out food. 

Shaking her head, she lifted Y/n’s chin with one finger, making her look Kitten in the eyes.

”You won't pay me, and I will stay, okay, darling?” Patricia offered, looking in Y/n’s eyes in a comforting way “You sure?” she asked softly, her voice cracking as a pout appeared on her face “I’m sure, darling” Kitten nodded, earning a bigger pout from her “Thank you… But let me spoil you then, yes? We can order something to eat, or I.. can cook for you! I also have pyjamas and more comfortable clothes, you can choose whatever you like, yes? Pretty please” she quickly asked, holding Kitten’s bigger hands in her smaller ones, squeezing tenderly while waiting patiently for a reply. Interrupting her quickly as soon as she tried to reject the offer “I said pleasee, Kitten, I would feel even more guilty then” the beautiful woman explained, dragging her quickly to another room, revealing her a big walk-in wardrobe “Anything” she reminded her before heading quickly to the kitchen to prepare something to eat.

Anything, Patricia kept repeating in her head as her wide eyes looked around the huge room, it was impressive, and expensive looking. Beautiful decor and exclusivity of it was something that she never got to witness before. Such a variety of clothes.. all organised. There were furry ones, silky, lacy, cotton… heels, low shoes.. Bags, accessories for hair and jewellery. It looked like heaven, a pink cosy heaven just for her.

Her hand wandered, brushing against all the different fabrics before she finally decided what to wear— which was matching baby pink underwear, a silky gown with a lacy upper part which showed off the natural curves of her chest which was covered by a lacy top. A robe finished her outfit, covering a bit the short fabric of the gown, allowing it to be seen a bit due to the see-through pink fabric; a line of fluffy fur kept stroking her freckled skin very gently, leaving a nice sensation all over. 

Kitten looked at herself in the mirror, purring satisfied as she saw the pretty sight. She felt.. beautiful.

With a grin on her face she headed towards the kitchen where Y/n stood by the counter, cooking meals for them both. 

”Maybe.. we should get some decorations?” She suggested gently, making the other woman jump, startled as she was unaware of Kitten’s presence. 

”Uhm.. sure. I'm sorry, I thought I'd spend it all alone so… I didn't bother to get any.” She explained, stirring food in the pot before her gaze fell on her guest. 

Y/n’s eyes widened as she saw the breathtaking woman in the pink clothes. She looked… amazing, and the bright colours highlighted her.. devilishly blue eyes, making the whole look even more stunning. 

”You look… wonderful.” She breathed out with a smile, causing Kitten’s cheeks to turn red as she giggled, biting softly into her purple nail polished nails before replying 

“Thank you! You have so many clothes.. Hope I choose the right things” she quickly added, feeling a bit nervous now. 

“There wasn’t a right one, honey, you could have chosen whatever you wanted.” Y/n chuckled softly in reply, a hand on her hip as her eyes still studied in approval “I mean it, you look stunning… you can keep them” she informed Patricia before turning her focus back to the food.

With a soft blush on her cheeks Kitten thanked her, starting to help her set all the decorations that were in a box next to the bare tree, while Y/n prepared the table of the living room and searched for a Christmas movie before adding more pillows on the sofa.

As both finished to prepare the things for their lovely evening together, the dinner began. 

Both of them remained seated together on the large sofa, their arms brushing together in a comfortable way as they ate, surrounded by Christmas lights… the romantic movie on Y/n’s big, flat screen only kept adding to the nice atmosphere, as they both chatted and exchanged their dreams, overdramatically sighing and giggling.

The volume wasn’t that high so they could easily chat together, making small talk while looking at each other every now and then.. their bodies moving closer as the time passed.

“It’s been a very lovely evening” Kitten started as midnight struck, her eyes looking back at Y/n who nodded lightly, standing a couple inches away, and glancing down at her lipstick painted lips. They looked so pretty and.. delicious, Y/n couldn't help but wonder what they tasted like, and if Kitten was a good kisser.

“Yeah.. It was” she replied quietly, her hand moving slowly to Kitten’s cheek to stroke the delicate freckled skin with her thumb.

Patricia was surprised with Y/n’s bold move, and her eyes shifted, meeting Y/n’s y/e/c ones, daring to move from there down to her lips. 

Almost like in a trance, the shorter woman grazed her thumb over Kitten's full bottom lip, the urge to taste them even stronger now. 

The other woman seemed as frozen as Y/n, looking deep into her eyes. Seeing the.. need, the hunger and warm feeling, sweet feeling spilled in her stomach, making Kitten smile. As they look at each other, their gazes were almost identical, reflecting the.. rare and beautiful feelings. Y/n seemed to have more patience, as Kitten’s have quickly ran thin, causing her to lean down and connect their lips in a soft kiss. The other woman seemed delighted, the lack of responsibility to make the first move made her relax.

Y/n’s eyes shut, hands moving on the other woman's cheeks as she kissed her back, the warmth of their bodies seemed to be.. perfect. It wasn't rushed or brutal, but it didn't lack passion and lust either. Suddenly the light from the TV turned off, making the atmosphere quite more romantic, but startling them both as they jumped, parting. 

Y/n breathed deeply, looking at the now black screen with a giggle before looking back at Kitten, who seemed to be watching her with a smile on her face. 

“Thank you, Miss Kitten” The beautiful woman whispered before brushing her lips against Patricia’s, leading her to finally crack in a laugh that contaged hers as well. 

Her hands moved again to her face, holding her still to place a loving kiss against her lips 

“Was this scenario a romantic but crazy one enough for you, Love? Are we allowed now to finally start our relationship.. You Pretty woman?” Y/n hummed, dropping completely the whole act she’s been keeping up, just so that Kitten could be satisfied with the possible plot of their relationship. 

If there was something she loved most about her former childhood friend was how unique she was. Her dreamy personality and giggling over romantic scenarios and books was one of the things that Y/n loved in her the most.

Long moment of silence followed the last line of the little scenario that Kitten wanted to play off… or rather her attempt to create a bit of suspense, she broke it with her soft voice.

“Hmmm… I guess so” Patricia replied, pretending to think about it in a dramatic way, her head tilted to the side as her slender finger tapped her chin.. a grin appearing on her face as soon as she finally met Y/n’s gaze, who was leaning in for another kiss.

“I guess I’m your girlfriend now, bug” she confirmed with a giggle through the attack of pecks she was under after digging her fingers in her hips and causing her to squeak.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

[rafesfavoritegirl]

where currents collide

chapter 11: drifting shadows

𓂃⋆.˚ After a messy night, Viv wakes up hungover and piecing together hazy memories. Rafe’s absence and Sarah’s hesitant explanations leave her uneasy, as if the truth is hidden beneath the surface. With fragments of the night tugging at her, Viv senses there’s more to uncover.

word count 1.5k

content/trigger warnings: alcohol use, intoxication, impaired judgment, caretaking dynamics, mild tension, and implied secrecy.

As we pulled up to the house, the headlights of Rafe’s Jeep were the only thing illuminating the driveway. The shadows danced against the walls, making the place look even more desolate. I knew I couldn’t get out without stumbling—my legs felt like jelly, and my head was spinning.

“Stay here,” he said firmly, not giving me a chance to argue.

Through the windshield, I could see the faint glow of lights inside. Sarah was home, and as that realization sank in, I saw Rafe pull out his phone. My heart sank.

“Rafe, no,” I slurred, trying to reach for his hand, but he ignored me, scrolling through his contact list until he found her name. He tapped it, the ringing sound filling the tense silence.

“Stop,” I tried again, my voice weak. But he refused to listen.

On the other end, the line clicked, and Sarah’s voice came through, casual and unsuspecting. “Hey, what’s up?”

Rafe’s tone was low but serious, firm with a thread of concern. “Hey. I’m out front of John B’s. Can you come outside real quick? Don’t react.”

There was a pause, and then Sarah’s reply came, calm but curious. “Okay.”

The line went dead, and Rafe tucked his phone away, glancing at me with a mix of frustration and determination. I slumped back in the seat, knowing there was no stopping him now. 

Soon after, Sarah appeared at the front of the house, her expression worried as she opened the car door on my side. She crouched down, glancing at me and then back at Rafe.

“She can barely walk,” Rafe said, his tone clipped with frustration. “Get her inside.”

“Oh my God, is she okay?” Sarah asked, reaching for me.

“I’m perfectly fine,” I slurred, smiling lazily as I waved her off, though the effort made me slump further into the seat.

Sarah tried to help, slipping her arm under mine and tugging, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. I felt like dead weight, and after a few seconds, she gave up with a sigh, looking back at Rafe.

“I can’t carry her,” she said, exasperated.

Rafe groaned, already getting out of the car. He rounded to my side and leaned in, his movements brisk and decisive as he scooped me up into his arms, cradling me effortlessly in a bridal style hold.

“Distract them,” he told Sarah firmly, nodding toward the house. “I’ll take her to bed.”

Sarah hesitated for a moment, then nodded. She rushed ahead, opening the door and slipping inside. “Hey, guys!” she called out, her voice loud and overly cheerful. “Who’s up for a bonfire?”

As she worked to draw their attention, Rafe moved quickly, carrying me through the open door and past the living room where the Pogues were gathered in the backyard. I caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of my eye—John B and everyone else making their way outside—but none of them noticed us.

Rafe walked through the house thoroughly and quietly, his hold steady despite my half-hearted attempts to murmur something. By the time he pushed open the door to my room and set me down gently on the bed, I was too tired to do anything but sink into the mattress.

He pulled the blanket over me, his movements surprisingly careful. For a moment, he lingered, his eyes scanning my face as if making sure I was okay. 

My mind was spinning, everything from last night blurring together into a messy, jumbled haze. One thing was clear, though—I needed Rafe here.

"Stay," I murmured, my voice soft and slurred, barely above a whisper.

He was already halfway to the door when I spoke. He paused, turning to face me, his expression caught between confusion and frustration.

"What? Viv, it’s already risky enough for me to be here. I can’t stay," he said, his tone firm, like he was trying to talk some sense into me.

I shook my head, my words tumbling out unsteady and a little desperate. "Please, Rafe.”

He sighed, reluctant but knowing I wouldn’t back down without a fight. Pulling out his phone, he called Sarah, his voice low as he spoke. I could only hear his side of the conversation, but whatever he said seemed to convince her.

After hanging up, Rafe walked back to the door, closing and locking it before making his way back to the bed. His resolve softened as he climbed in beside me, the tension in his shoulders easing.

I immediately snuggled into him, pressing my face against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled my ears, its thumping like soothing white noise, lulling me.

His fingers moved gently through my hair, a slow, rhythmic motion that calmed every buzzing thought in my mind. With that, I finally drifted off, safe and warm against him.

༄ ༄ ༄

I woke up groggy, expecting to see Rafe beside me, but to my surprise, he was gone. A wave of disappointment hit me, sinking deep in my chest. Sadness lingered there too, and the heavy throb of my hangover wasn’t making anything better.

Dragging myself out of bed, I wandered into the living room, hoping to find someone—anyone—but the house was completely empty.

Where the hell was everyone?

I glanced at the clock and froze. 3 PM?!

How long had I been out? The realization only added to the weight pressing down on me, making me feel even worse.

I ran a hand through my tangled hair, trying to make sense of everything. My head still felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and the events of last night were fragmented, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. The more I tried to piece things together, the more I felt that familiar wave of panic creeping in again.

I stepped into the kitchen, hoping a cold glass of water might help clear my head. The place was eerily quiet, except for the hum of the refrigerator. No notes, no messages, nothing to tell me where everyone had gone. Even my phone—when I finally found it sitting on the counter—was dead.

Plugging it into the charger, I leaned heavily against the counter and took a deep breath. Think, Viv. Rafe had been here. He stayed. That much I was sure of. But now he was gone, and so was Sarah. What did that mean? Did something happen after I passed out? Did I say or do anything?

The sound of a car door slamming outside jolted me from my spiraling thoughts. I peeked through the blinds and saw Sarah stepping out of her car, carrying what looked like a bag of groceries. Relief washed over me as I pushed open the front door, the sunlight making me squint.

“Sarah!” I called out, my voice rough. She looked up, startled, but quickly relaxed when she saw me.

“Hey,” she said, slamming the car door shut with her hip. “How are you feeling?”

I shrugged, leaning against the doorframe for support. “Like I got hit by a truck. Where is everyone?”

“They’re at the beach,” she said casually, walking up the steps. “You were out cold, and I didn’t want to wake you. Figured you needed sleep.”

I nodded slowly, though her answer didn’t exactly satisfy me. “And Rafe?”

Sarah hesitated, her eyes flicking to the ground for a split second before meeting mine again. “He left early this morning. Didn’t say much, just told me to check on you.”

Her tone was light, but I caught the edge of something else—something she wasn’t saying. Before I could press her, she brushed past me into the house.

“I got you some Gatorade,” she called over her shoulder. “You’re gonna need it.”

I followed her into the kitchen, feeling that strange mix of gratitude and unease settling in my chest. She was being nice—overly nice—and it made me suspicious. Setting the bag on the counter, Sarah started unpacking bottles of sports drinks, crackers, and a box of aspirin.

“Seriously, what happened last night?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. “I don’t remember much.”

Sarah paused, her hands hovering over the bag. She glanced at me, her expression unreadable. “You really don’t remember?”

I shook my head, my frustration growing. “No. I mean, bits and pieces, but it’s all blurry. Why? Did something happen?”

For a moment, Sarah looked like she was deciding whether or not to tell me the truth. Finally, she sighed, leaning against the counter. “You were a mess, Viv. Like, barely-standing, slurring-your-words kind of mess. Rafe didn’t want anyone else to see you like that, so he called me to help.”

I frowned, trying to recall the details. “And then what?”

“And then,” she said, her voice careful, “he carried you inside, put you to bed, and stayed until you fell asleep. That’s it.”

Her words sounded genuine, but there was still something in her tone that didn’t sit right with me. “Why do I feel like you’re leaving something out?”

Sarah looked away, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “Because you need to talk to Rafe about it, not me.”

That was all she would say, and no amount of pressing would get her to budge. I let it go for now, focusing instead on the Gatorade and aspirin she handed me. But as I sipped the drink and felt the headache start to fade, my unease only grew.

Whatever had happened, whatever Sarah wasn’t telling me—I had a feeling it was bigger than I realized. 

[sukiwrites]

Love's Symphony

Jason Todd x gn!reader

Tags: Angst

Jason had been away, on a mission, and the hours without his voice, his laughter, his touch, had stretched on endlessly. He had spent the entire day out on patrol, trying to keep the streets safe from the ever-present criminal element that plagued the city. He knew the job was never easy, but it had been particularly grueling today.

But now, finally, the moment you had been waiting for was here. Jason was back. You practically leapt off the couch when you heard the familiar sound of his motorcycle pulling into the driveway. You raced to the door, your heart pounding so loudly that you thought it might burst from your chest. As soon as the door swung open, there he was, standing in all his brooding glory, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

Entering the dimly lit hideout, Jason kicked off his boots and tossed his helmet onto a nearby table. He rubbed his temples, feeling a dull ache starting to form in his head. Just as he was about to retreat to his room for some much-needed rest, he heard a voice echoing through the quiet space. Your lips stretched into a wide grin, and without thinking, you lunged at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

"Jaybird!" The voice was enthusiastic and filled with an energy that Jason found almost overwhelming.

"Hey, you're back!" you exclaimed, a grin spreading across your face as you closed the distance between you and Jason.

He couldn't help but feel a small smile tug at the corner of his lips in response to your infectious energy. It had been a long day, and seeing you so happy to see him was a welcome sight. However, as you continued to chatter excitedly about your day, he felt a subtle throbbing in his head intensify.

He stiffened in your arms, and you pulled back slightly, noticing the storm clouds gathering in his eyes. His jaw clenched, and you could see the tension radiating off him.

"Hey, could you calm down," he said in a low, gravelly voice, prying your arms from around his neck. "You're acting like a damn hurricane."

You paused mid-sentence, the excitement in your eyes dimming slightly as you processed his words. The smile that had been so vibrant moments ago faltered, and you took a step back, suddenly self-conscious. You blinked, taken aback by his sudden coldness. "What?"

"You're being too loud and you're giving me a headache." he muttered, pushing past you and into the living room.

"Oh, uh, sorry," you mumbled, your enthusiasm now replaced with uncertainty.

You stared after him, hurt and confusion warring within you. You had anticipated this joyful reunion, the two of you wrapped up in each other's arms, but instead, his words hung in the air like a heavy fog. You had missed him all day, every second of it, and now that he was back, he was telling you to calm down? You felt like you had been slapped in the face.

For the rest of the evening, you tried your best to contain your exuberance, to dim the light that had been burning so brightly inside you. You spoke in hushed tones, moved with measured steps, and kept your laughter in check. Every fiber of your being ached to be near him, to touch him, but you held yourself back, convinced that this was what he wanted.

The days that followed were a monotonous blur. you moved through them like a shadow, your heart heavy with the weight of his words. You were consumed by a quiet sadness, an ache that gnawed at you day and night. You missed the way we used to be, the way he would wrap you in his arms and tell you that your happiness was his priority. But now, you felt like a nuisance, a burden that he couldn't wait to be rid of.

One evening, as you sat on the couch, lost in your thoughts, Jason walked in. He looked at you with his brow furrowed.

"Hey," he began, his voice gentle this time.

You turned to look at him, your eyes still carrying a touch of sadness.

"Hi" you replied to him trying to keep a straight face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer than before.

You stare at nothing as you answer the question. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've been very quiet all week. You're not yourself. You used to be… well, you used to be energetic, and now you're like a shadow," he said, his gaze searching yours.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly tight. "You told me to calm down, and that I was being loud."

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Jason said sincerely. "I know you were just excited to see me, But I needed a moment to adjust after being on that mission. I wasn't prepared to interact with you, but that doesn't mean I wanted you to disappear."

You sighed, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap.

You felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. You had misunderstood him, taken his words to heart in the worst possible way. "I just... I didn't want to bother you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "maybe I was being too much for you."

Jason reached out and gently tilted your chin up, making you meet his eyes.

"You're never too much for me," he said softly. "I appreciate your energy and enthusiasm. It's just... I was having a rough day, and I didn't handle it well. I didn't mean to make you feel like you had to change who you are."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and a hint of your usual spark returned to your eyes.

"You're forgiven," you said, giving him a playful nudge as you pout and say "But next time, maybe just tell me you're having a bad day instead of being mean, okay?"

Jason chuckled, relieved to see your spirit returning. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close.

"Deal," he replied. "Now, let's enjoy this sunset together."

[oopsalltropes]

✗ next ch.9

Chapter 8: Home Sweet Home...

Today was the day Dunk dreaded most—the day he officially moves in with Joong. He packed his personal belongings into his Mercedes Benz, his cousin Pond loaded extra boxes into his truck. Dunk had been counting down to this moment with a sinking heart ever since the wedding a week ago. He’s been a married man for a week… It’s still so hard for him to believe, to process that he’s now bound for life with that beast. Since the marriage was purely business, Joong and Dunk had signed a separate agreement Joong and Dunks’s father come up with together. The terms required them to remain married for a least five years before a divorce could even be considered. Five miserable years—an eternity, Dunk thought—before he could finally break free from Joong’s grasp.

“Okay, I think that’s the last of it,” Pond announced from the back of his truck, closing the tailgate. He walked over and joined Dunk in the driveway, both of them staring up at the house Dunk had called home his entire life.

“C’mon, man,” Pond said, slapped Dunks shoulder lightly. “I’ll visit you as soon as I can.”

The goodbyes—and tears were shed, mostly from Fourth—had been shared yesterday. There was nothing else to do now but to drive off and go to the lions den. Dunk let out a deep sigh, his gaze still locked in his home. Memories of his childhood flashed through his mind: birthdays, late night talks he used to have with his mother, the sounds his cousins and him made when running up and down the halls. It all feels so long ago now.

“Don’t get all soft on me now, Pond,” Dunk joked, forcing a smile to hide the pain that ache in his chest.

“Soft? Please. I’m more worried about you surviving the living conditions that psychopath lives in,” Pond teased, thought he tone carried a hint of seriousness.

Dunk rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on dying anytime soon. If Joong tries anything, I’ll find a way to make his life hell.”

Pond chuckled but didn’t say anything, clearly unsure if Dunk was joking. After a beat of silence both men went inside their vehicles and drove to Joong’s place. The drive to Joong’s estate was quiet, save for the sound of the radio, the hum of the engine, and the occasional buzz of his phone as his cousins sent messages wishing him luck. The closer he got to the massive gates, the more his stomach twisted. He was nervous, not only because the man he is married to is a maniac, but because he doesn't know what to expect living with Joong. When he arrived, the guards stationed at the entrance waved at him. He assumed they will introduce themselves once Dunk settled in. The estate loomed ahead, all cold stone and sharp edges. Dunk's home was definitely not small but compared to what he now has to live in he was intimidated. The house looked like it was used to film The Haunting, but instead of a ghost haunting the place it was Joong. Dunk parked the car in the circular driveway, Pond behind him. They stepped out their car, and stared up at the house.

"Home sweet home," he muttered bitterly under his breath.

"Wow…This is uh-something," Pond gawked at the house, breathless at how beautiful yet dangerous the house looked.

Dunk rolled his eyes at Pond's reaction, grabbing the nearest box from the car. "Yeah, it's something alright. Something straight out of my nightmares."

Pond smirked, leaning against the side of his truck. "Maybe you'll grow to like it? It's big, has guards around, maybe he also has a cook and a maid. You'll also have all the space you could want…"

"Yeah, all the space to avoid that psycho I now call my husband," Dunk shot back, emphasizing the word with disdain. He shoved the box into Pond's hands, gesturing toward the house. "Now, help me carry this shit inside before I change my mind and drive back home."

Pond chuckled, balancing the box on his hip as he followed Dunk toward the looming front doors. They hadn't even knocked before one of the large oak doors creaked open, revealing Joong leaning casually against the frame.

"About time," Joong said, his voice smooth but laced with amusement. His sharp eyes flickered between Dunk and Pond before settling on Dunk. "I was starting to think you took a plane out the country."

Dunk resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "Don't tempt me," he pushed past Joong with the box and set it down on the floor. "maybe I should, beats staying in this haunted mansion." He continued as he looked around the dark place.

Joong's lips curled into a sly grin as he stepped aside, letting Pond follow Dunk into the grand foyer. "Haunted mansion? You flatter me, Dunk. Welcome home."

The sarcasm in Joong's tone grated on Dunk's nerves. He ignored the man entirely, instead glancing around the massive interior. The foyer was just as cold and unwelcoming as the outside-marble floors, dark wood accents, and an enormous crystal chandelier that looked like it weighed more than his car. It all screamed power and wealth, but it lacked any sense of warmth. Looked like he used this house to show off instead of making memories in.

"Damn," Pond whispered, spinning slowly as he took in the space. "You sure you wanna complain about this place, Dunk? I could even live in here."

"Be my fucking guest," Dunk muttered, setting the box Pond had down next to the other. "Take my spot and deal with him."

Joong raised an eyebrow, amused. "You wound me. You wouldn't replace me so soon, would you?"

Dunk shot him a glare. "Try me."

Before the banter could escalate, Joong's right-hand man, First, appeared from the hallway. He offered Dunk a polite but distant nod, then turned to Joong.

"The staff has finished preparing the room for Dunk. Everything is in place."

Joong nodded, his eyes flickering back to Dunk. "Good. Let's get this over with, then."

Pond stepped closer to Dunk, leaning in to whisper, "Are you sure you'll be able to handle everything over here?"

Dunk's eyes darted briefly to Joong, who was still watching his like a predator sizing up its prey. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "I'll survive. Somehow."

Pond didn't look too convinced but he knew better than to push Dunk. He patted Dunk on the back offering a small, reassuring smile. "Call me if you need anything. And I mean anything."

Dunk nodded again, his chest tightening as he watched Pond head back to his truck. He wanted to run after him, to beg him to take him back home, but he stood there frozen in place until the sound of the trucks engine faded into the distance. He was all alone now.

"Your room is upstairs," Joong announced, snapping Dunk out of his thoughts. "Third door on your left. Unless, of course, you would like and sleep with me, your husband, in our room."

Dunk glared at him, grabbing another box. "I'll pass." Joong chuckled, gesturing First to follow him as he walked toward his study.

Without realizing Dunk noticed everything he packed away was now in the foyer, guess some of the guards took them out when him and Pond were too busy ogling the place. He went to the stairs and before even taking a step Joong spoke, "Dinner's at seven. Don't be late."

Dunk watched him disappear, down the hall before heading upstairs, muttering under his breath, "Hope the food here taste like shit."

When he reached his room, Dunk opened the door to find a luxurious space that was entirely too much for him. The bed was massive, the furnishing sleek and modern, and the view overlooked the estate's sprawling gardens. It was beautiful, but it wasn't home. And he was sure it never would feel like one.

He set the box down near the bed and sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Five years," he whispered to himself. "Just five years."

But as he sat down on the edge of the bed, the weight of everything sank in. Five years suddenly felt like it was light years away.

Dunk leaned back on the bed, staring up at the intricate ceiling moldings. He wanted to scream his lungs out. Frustration bubbled inside him, five years of living in this house that felt more like a prison. He wanted to puke, the unfamiliarity of the situation making him sick. He was used to the familiar chaos of his family home—the constant chatter, the warmth of his cousins teasing him and him back, the love and arguments that came with it. Here there was only silence.

And Joong.

He sat up, running his hand through his hair in frustration. The silence was already suffocating him, so Dunk got up and busied himself by unpacking his belongings. It felt odd, placing his things in a space that wasn’t his, in a house that reeked of Joong’s power and presence.

Halfway through unpacking, Dunks phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed his phone in a haste, hoping it were his cousins.

Fourth: how are u? has shit gone down yet?

Pond: u good? if not i’ll come back and kidnap you.

Khaotung: Call when ur free. We need the gossip.

Dunk smirked at his phone, grateful for the distraction. He texted back quickly in the group chat. He replied to Pond: All good. Give it some time. Then he replied to Khaotung: Later. Still settling in. And lastly he replied to Fourth: I’m good. Will update soon.

As he set his phone down back on the nightstand there was a sharp knock at the door. Dunk’s head snapped up, his heart skipped a beat. Before he could get up and open the door, Joong walked in, and casually leaned against his dresser. Joong’s presence was overwhelming, filling the room like a dark cloud. Dunk tensed, his earlier clam evaporated. He stared at Joong, who looked a little too comfortable invading his space.

Joong’s eyes swept over the room, pausing briefly on Dunk’s box of belongings. “I see you’re settling in.” Joong pointed out, his tone casual but edged with something Dunk couldn’t quite place.

Dunk’s jaw tightened, “Is there something you need?”

Joong tilted his head, his face sporting an amused smirk on his lips. “This is my house and you’re my husband. I don’t need an invitation to check up on you.”

Dunk clenched his fist at the word husband leaving from Joong’s lips, bile of frustration rising in his throat. “Don’t call me that.”

Joong pushed himself off the dresser creeping towards Dunk with a deliberate slowness that made the hairs on Dunk’s neck stand. “Isn’t that what you are?” He taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. “You can bitch and moan all you want, but the fact remains—you wear my name now.”

Dunk stood up from the bed eye to eye with Joong a good amount of space between them, not too close yet not too far. He stood his ground, his body rigid. “You don’t own me, Joong. Don’t mistake this little arrangement for something it’s not.”

Joong let out a low, humorless chuckle, he stepped closer, closer than necessary from Dunk. “Don’t I? You’re here because I allow it. Your families precious little empire still stands because I am choosing to protect it. So yes, Dunk, I own every inch and piece of you. You’re mine, whether you want to admit it or not.” He growled.

Dunk’s breath quickened, his frustration boiling over. He wanted to punch Joong, to scream, to do something that would shatter Joong’s infuriating calm demeanor. But he knew better. He knew Joong thrived on control, and giving him a reaction would only feed into his dominance.

“I hate you.” Dunk seethed, his voice shaking with barely contained fury. He hated him so much it made him think of insane things he wanted to do to Joong.

Joong’s smirked widen those three words doing nothing but making him feel empowered knowing he has such an effect on Dunk. “Good. Hate me all you want.” He looked into Dunks dark eyes, shining with hatred for him. They showed Joong just what Dunk really wanted to do. He let out a little chuckle before announcing, “Dinner’s ready in an hour don’t make me have someone come fetch you.”

Joong tuned in his heel, his confidence exuding with every step towards the door. Dunk stood frozen, his fist clenched so tightly he thought he had drawn blood from the way his nails dug into his palms. The sound of Joong’s chuckle lingered in the room like an unwanted ghost.

Dunk’s heart pounded with rage, his thought a tangled mess of frustration and loathing. He hated the way Joong could crawl under his skin so easily, he hated how he let himself be easily affected by him. He wanted to scream, throw something, to smash something and release his volatile energy building up inside him. He paced around his room thinking back to Joong looking at him—not with just mockery, but with a piercing gaze that seemed to strip him bare.

The nerve of Joong to act like this was all just a silly game. He just waltz into his life, rip him apart from his family, and expect him to play along like a dutiful husband. Dunk hated him. He hated him so much it consumed him. He stopped pacing around and took deep breaths, dinner was going to come soon. Dunk didn’t have an appetite and he knew he couldn’t not go that would just make matters worse.

Fine, I’ll go to dinner, Dunk thought bitterly. He hadn’t eaten all day and he didn’t want to sleep on an empty stomach. Dunk washed his face in the adjoining bathroom, the cool water calming the heat in his cheeks. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, steeling himself for what was about to come.

An house came far too quickly for Dunk’s taste. He made his way down the stairs, the dinning room already set, the long table adorned with fine china and sparkling silverware. Joong sat at the head of the table casually sipping on his wine, his sharp eyes flicking up to Dunks as he entered.

“Glad you could come and join me,” Joong greeted, gesturing to the seat nearest to him.

Dunk hesitated, then reluctantly sat down, trying to ignore how close their seats were.

Dinner began in the strained silence. Dunk poked at his food, his appetite nowhere to be found despite the chefs fine skills. Joong on the other hand, ate leisurely, the picture of calm.

“You’ll get used to it,” Joong blurted breaking the silence.

Dunk frowned, confused looking up. “To what?”

“Living here. With me.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” He bit back.

Joong laughed at Dunks sharp reply, setting his wine glass down with an elegant clink. “We’re in this for the long haul—Five years, remember?”

“Yeah, and i’m already counting down the days until i’m rid of you,” Dunk snapped, his tone venomous.

Joong leaned back in his chair, his smirk unfaltering. “Watch it,” he snarled, his voice dropping dangerously low. “That attitude might make the next five years difficult for you. You think i’m a hard ass now? Push me, and you’ll see just how unpleasant I can be.”

Dunk’s hand tighten around his thighs under the table. His heart pounded in his chest, anger filled within him. The air between them felt heavy, charged with unspoken tension. Dunk picked up his water and before bringing the rim to his lips he mouthed, “Fucking asshole,” and rolled his eyes. Dunk knew this would catch his attention they’re sitting close to each other after all. He wanted to rile him up, he didn’t care.

Joong stared ahead slowly eating his food like he didn’t hear anything. He didn’t look fazed by what Dunk said, until he set his silverware down making a small clink sound against the plate. His chair screeched along the floor as he got up quickly outstretched his hand and gripped Dunk’s jaw in one firm, almost punishing hand, titling his face upward so their eyes could meet. His grip was hard, but not hard enough to leave a bruise. He wanted to send a clear message: I’m in control here.

“Don’t. Test me.”

“Or what.” Dunk challenged.

“I told you,” Joong charged, his voice was low, a dangerous growl. “I don’t tolerate disrespect. It might seem cute to roll your eyes at me, but I promise you, Dunk, it’s not something I find amusing.”

Dunk’s pulse quickened, thought he would rather die than admit that to anyone, let alone to Joong. He sneered trying to pull his face away from Joong, but his grip was too firm.

“Let. Go.”

Joong smiled, his eyes analyzing every inch of Dunk’s face trying to find any semblance. His thumb brushed Dunk’s cheek in a way that felt taunting and unnervingly intimate. “Here’s what you’re gonna do,” Joong instructed softly, leaning in closer until Dunk could feel his breath against his skin. “You’re going to stop rolling those pretty eyes at me. Or I’ll make sure you remember not to.”

chp. 9

[obxficsxx]

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Darkest Tide

series navagation

The storm struck the Outer Banks with relentless fury, battering the coastline with gusts of wind and torrential rain. The world outside The Chateau was a blur of gray, but inside, the tension was sharp and vivid.

The group had spent the entire night finalizing their plan, every move calculated, every step designed to bring Charles Cromwell’s empire to its knees. But as the morning light broke through the storm clouds, the weight of their decision pressed down harder than ever.

The darkest tide was rising, and with it came the moment of truth.

Pope and Megan sat huddled around the laptop in the living room, their faces lit by the glow of the screen. The files were ready, packaged into a series of emails that would be sent to national news outlets, investigative agencies, and anyone else with the power to act.

“This is everything,” Megan said, her voice steady but laced with exhaustion. “Once we hit send, it’s out of our hands. The entire world will know.”

“And Charles will know it’s us,” Pope added, glancing at Iris.

Iris stood by the window, her arms crossed as she stared out at the rain. “Let him. He can’t stop it now.”

JJ walked over, resting a hand on her shoulder. “We’re with you, Iris. No matter what happens.”

She turned to him, her eyes softening. “I know. And that’s the only reason I can do this.”

Megan’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. “Ready?”

The room fell silent, each of them bracing for the point of no return. Iris stepped forward, her voice steady. “Do it.”

With a single keystroke, the files were sent, disappearing into the digital ether. The silence that followed was deafening, the storm outside a distant hum compared to the pounding of their hearts.

The group barely had a moment to breathe before Kie, who had been keeping an eye on the road, called out from the window. “We’ve got company.”

Everyone rushed to the window, their stomachs sinking as a line of black SUVs pulled into the driveway.

“They’re here,” John B said, his voice grim. “Charles isn’t wasting any time.”

“Get the backups,” Megan instructed Pope. “We can’t let them get their hands on anything.”

Pope nodded, grabbing the external hard drives and slipping them into his backpack. “We need an escape plan.”

“We��ll hold them off,” JJ said, grabbing a crowbar from the corner of the room. “Iris, Pope, Megan—get out through the back.”

“I’m not leaving,” Iris said firmly, her jaw set.

“Yes, you are,” JJ countered, his voice hard but protective. “You’ve done your part, Iris. Now let us handle the rest.”

Before she could argue, the first SUV door opened, and two men stepped out, their faces hidden under the brims of their hats. One of them held a clipboard, but the way he carried himself screamed more muscle than administration.

“Stay here,” JJ said, turning to John B and Kie. “Let’s see what they want.”

JJ and John B stepped onto the porch, the rain soaking them instantly. The men from the SUVs approached slowly, their movements deliberate. One of them held up the clipboard, his voice loud enough to carry over the storm.

“We’re here on behalf of Charles Cromwell,” he said. “We know you’ve been interfering in private business matters. Hand over the documents, and we’ll leave peacefully.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” JJ said, his tone dripping with defiance. “Why don’t you tell Charles he can come down here himself if he’s got something to say?”

The man smirked, unfazed. “This isn’t a negotiation. We’re giving you one chance to cooperate. Don’t make us escalate this.”

“Try us,” John B said, his grip tightening on the metal bat he was holding.

The tension was thick, the storm whipping around them as if reflecting the chaos about to unfold. The men exchanged a glance before stepping back, motioning toward the SUVs. The doors opened, and more figures emerged—enough to make it clear that they weren’t leaving empty-handed.

Inside, Iris paced nervously, her mind racing as she heard the confrontation outside. “We can’t just let them fight alone,” she said, turning to Megan and Pope.

“They can handle it,” Megan said, her voice calm but firm. “Our priority is keeping the evidence safe.”

Pope motioned toward the back door. “There’s a path through the woods that leads to the marina. If we can get to a boat, we can get the files out of here.”

Reluctantly, Iris nodded, grabbing her raincoat as the three of them slipped out the back. The storm was relentless, the rain soaking through their clothes as they ran, but they couldn’t stop. Behind them, the sound of raised voices and the clash of metal against wood echoed through the storm.

Back at The Chateau, JJ, John B, and Kie stood their ground, using the narrow porch as a choke point. The men tried to force their way inside, but the Pogues fought back with everything they had. JJ swung his crowbar, narrowly missing one of the men as he lunged forward.

“You picked the wrong house!” JJ shouted, his adrenaline fueling him.

Kie threw a bucket of water she’d grabbed from the kitchen at another man, using the chaos of the storm to her advantage. John B managed to land a solid hit with the bat, sending one of the intruders stumbling back.

But the numbers weren’t on their side, and it was clear they couldn’t hold out forever.

Iris, Pope, and Megan reached the marina, their breaths ragged as they ducked into one of the boathouses. Pope fumbled with the keys to one of the boats they had borrowed for the escape, his hands trembling from the cold and adrenaline.

“Come on,” Iris urged, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting to see their pursuers at any moment.

Finally, the engine roared to life, and they pushed off into the choppy water. The storm made visibility nearly impossible, but they pressed on, their determination outweighing their fear

Back at The Chateau, the fight spilled into the living room as the men forced their way inside. JJ and John B fought with everything they had, their movements desperate but precise. Kie grabbed anything she could use as a weapon, hurling books and vases at their attackers.

Just as it seemed like they were being overwhelmed, the sound of sirens cut through the storm. The intruders froze, exchanging wary glances before retreating as quickly as they had arrived.

Outside, a pair of police cars pulled up, their lights flashing. The Pogues slumped against the walls, their breaths heavy as relief washed over them.

“They’re gone,” JJ said, his voice hoarse. “For now.”

Out on the water, Iris stared into the storm, her heart pounding as the boat sped through the waves. The files were safe, but the battle wasn’t over. The darkest tide had come, threatening to pull them under, but they had survived.

And now, as the storm began to ease, Iris knew they were closer than ever to the truth—and to finally breaking free from her father’s shadow.

The marina lights faded into the distance as the boat sliced through the choppy waters. Rain lashed at their faces, and the engine roared over the sound of the waves. Iris gripped the edge of the boat, her knuckles white as the dark expanse of the ocean stretched before them. Beside her, Pope hunched over the files they had secured, shielding them with his body from the rain.

Megan sat at the helm, her face tense as she steered them toward open water. “We need to get far enough away before they realize we’re not at The Chateau,” she said, her voice raised over the storm.

“They’ll figure it out sooner rather than later,” Pope warned, glancing over his shoulder. “We need to be ready for when they do.”

Iris wiped the rain from her face, her mind racing with possibilities. Her father’s men weren’t just thugs—they were organized, and they knew the stakes. If they caught up to them now, everything they’d fought for would be at risk.

“What happens if they find us?” Iris asked, her voice tight.

“They won’t,” Megan said firmly, though the edge in her tone betrayed her nerves. “We’re not going to give them the chance.”

Pope looked at Iris, his expression serious. “Do you think your mom tipped them off?”

Iris hesitated, her thoughts swirling. Vanessa’s warning had felt genuine, but there was no denying that her arrival at The Chateau had coincided too closely with the intruders. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But it doesn’t matter now. We have to focus on what’s ahead.”

At The Chateau, the aftermath of the fight was stark. Furniture lay overturned, broken glass littered the floor, and the faint smell of rain and sweat clung to the air. JJ, John B, and Kie worked silently to clean up the mess, each of them nursing bruises and scrapes.

JJ tossed a broken chair leg onto the growing pile of debris, his jaw clenched. “They’re not going to stop. We held them off this time, but next time…” He trailed off, his frustration boiling just beneath the surface.

“They’re desperate,” Kie said, sweeping glass into a dustpan. “Which means we’re close to taking them down. We just have to hold on a little longer.”

John B nodded, though his expression was grim. “Let’s just hope Iris and Pope can stay ahead of them.”

Out on the water, the storm began to ease, though the waves remained turbulent. Megan slowed the boat, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of pursuit. “We should be far enough now,” she said, cutting the engine.

Pope immediately opened the waterproof bag containing the files, spreading them out on the small bench beside him. Despite the rain smudging some of the ink, the documents were legible. He flipped through pages of contracts, bank statements, and correspondences, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“This is bigger than we thought,” he said, holding up one document. “Look at this—it’s a memorandum from The Architect to your father. They’re planning to use this Charleston development as a springboard for an entire network of projects. If this goes through, it won’t just destroy the Outer Banks. It’ll give them control over half the eastern seaboard.”

Iris’s stomach twisted. “So this isn’t just about the money—it’s about power.”

“Exactly,” Pope said. “And if we can expose this, we’re not just taking down your father. We’re dismantling the entire operation.”

As they sifted through the documents, a low hum broke through the sound of the waves. Megan froze, her head snapping up. “Do you hear that?”

The hum grew louder, accompanied by the faint glow of headlights on the water. Iris turned, her heart sinking as she spotted a speedboat cutting through the waves behind them.

“They’ve found us,” she whispered.

Pope quickly stuffed the documents back into the waterproof bag, his movements frantic. “What do we do?”

“We run,” Megan said, restarting the engine. The boat roared to life, and she spun the wheel, steering them away from their pursuers.

The speedboat gained on them quickly, its sleek design cutting through the waves with ease. Iris’s pulse pounded as she watched the other boat close the distance. She looked at Pope, who clutched the bag tightly. “If they catch us, we lose everything.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Megan said through gritted teeth. “Hold on.”

Megan pushed the boat to its limits, weaving through the waves in an attempt to outmaneuver the speedboat. The rain had slowed, but the ocean remained wild, each wave threatening to tip them over.

“They’re still gaining,” Pope warned, his voice tight.

Iris scanned the water, her mind racing. “There!” she shouted, pointing to a cluster of jagged rocks jutting out of the water. “Head toward the rocks—they won’t risk following us.”

Megan hesitated for only a moment before steering the boat toward the rocks. The waves crashed against the jagged edges, sending spray into the air. Behind them, the speedboat hesitated, its driver clearly weighing the risk of following.

“They’re slowing down,” Pope said, relief flooding his voice.

“Not for long,” Megan said. “We need to get out of sight before they figure out another way to follow us.”

The boat emerged from the rocky waters, slipping into a narrow inlet surrounded by tall reeds. Megan cut the engine, the sudden silence deafening. The group sat in tense stillness, their breaths shallow as they listened for any sign of pursuit.

After several long moments, Pope spoke. “I think we lost them.”

Iris leaned back against the bench, her chest heaving as the adrenaline began to fade. “That was too close.”

Megan turned to face them, her expression grim. “This is only going to get worse. If we’re going to finish this, we need to move fast.”

Pope nodded, holding up the bag. “We have everything we need. We just have to make sure it gets into the right hands.”

“And we will,” Iris said, her voice firm. “No matter what it takes.”

The darkest tide had come, threatening to pull them under. But as the storm began to break and the first rays of dawn touched the horizon, they knew they were closer than ever to exposing the truth—and to finally setting themselves free.

[moonchildstyles]

nest

harry is y/n's best friend. he also happens to be an alpha. spending a week at his place has her brain doing weird things.

cw: a/b/o dynamics! while this has no smut in it, I still heavily encourage anyone not familiar with the trope to look it up before reading ahead!

wordcount: 10.5k+

—————

(Y/N) panted as she scaled Harry's driveway with her too-heavy weekender bag hanging over her shoulder. Did she know she was overpacked for only a week long stay? Sure, but she would rather be safe than sorry, so if that meant bringing an extra five pairs of panties and three more sets of clothing than she needed, that was only being safe as far as she was concerned. What she hadn't planned for, was scaling Harry's long driveway with her bag banging against her side and her phone charger spilling out of the top and her school backpack weighing down her other side. Parking in her usual spot by the curb with shady covering provided by the leafy tree in his yard sounded perfect, until she felt her shoulders aching with the weight of her bags as she peered up the driveway. 

By now, she was sure a sheen of sweat had collected above her brow and Harry was going to kill her for exerting herself when she could have easily texted him for some help with her things. But, (Y/N) didn't want to call on him to carry her things, her was already doing too much for her. 

He was already letting her crash at his place for a week—maybe more—, so there was no reason to make him carry her textbooks and a week's worth of clothing. She'd take a little bit of a scolding instead of pandering for more help. 

Just as she climbed the porch steps, the front door swung open only to reveal the alpha of the house with a bunny-toothed grin on his features and fluffy curls framing his face. 

"(Y/N), h—What are you doing?" As expected, the second Harry caught sight of the sweat coating her features and heard the wheeze of her lungs, his brows furrowed and he all but rushed to join her on the short staircase. "Why didn't y'tell me y'were here?" he reprimanded her as he reached for her duffle, "And y'parked so far away. (Y/N), y'should have told me I would have helped y'carry your things in." 

"I know, I know," she said, relief flooding her system when circulation returned to her arm, "I didn't think the bag was going to be that heavy, though, I promise. And, you're already doing so much for me, it's not fair—"

"Don't go off about what's fair with me, again," he cut her off, apparently having already anticipated this conversation, "I offered to let y'stay with me, and you're not inconveniencing me in anyway, okay? The only thing that isn't fair is when y'don't let me take care of you like I promised I would." 

(Y/N) sighed as he brought up his promise again. It wasn't a new topic, but still one that made her tummy flutter every time he brought it up. 

Years ago, when they first became friends their first year of university, Harry had been around when she had gone through a particularly bruising breakup. The alpha was not who (Y/N) thought he was, and that much was only apparent after she had fallen in love with the facade he had presented. Harry had been the only one to pick up when she called sobbing in the middle of the night, needing to talk to anyone who would listen and reassure her that she hadn't just ended a relationship with the only person who would ever love her like that alpha had screamed at her. 

That night in the dark of his student dorm, Harry promised her that he would always be there to protect and take care of her. No one would be able to tamper with her self-worth ever again, or make her feel like she was a burden or hard to love—platonically or otherwise. It had been a serious promise, one that he said in the deep grumble of his alpha tone and with his eyes matching hers as he said it. 

But, now, he loved to use it as an excuse to get his way whenever she wouldn't let him do something silly like hold her duffle bag or drive her to her early morning class. While she always made a point to roll her eyes at him when he made such comments, it never failed to make her heart feel full at the reminder of his promise. 

Harry was always the one alpha who never tried to change her or push himself on her just for the fact that she was an unmated omega. He was even the driving force behind her deciding to continue her schooling towards her master's degree after graduation. So, if he wanted to scold her a little for carrying her own textbooks or parking too far away from his front door, she'd let him. It let her know he cared. 

"Sorry, dad," she sighed, a petulant tease carrying her voice, "I'll park closer next time." 

"That's what I thought," he said, pushing her with a hand on the small of her back through his front door. "And, you'll let me know when you're here, so I don't have to listen for you." 

"Whatever you say," she shook her head, laughter filling the foyer as he piled on his conditions that she knew he wouldn't do anything about if she didn't adhere to them. 

"Good," he grumbled, locking the front door behind them before he continued ushering her up the stairs. "Got the guest room all set up for you if y'want to go that way." 

Harry's house was (Y/N)'s second home after her apartment, so the layout was easy to maneuver even without his hand on her back guiding her. Still, that didn't mean she wanted him to stop. 

As expected, Harry had the guestroom set up perfectly for her, just as he always did whenever she had to sleepover at his place. The quilt he'd had in his dorm when they met was folded across the bottom of the bed, the familiar holes and frayed edges brought a smile to her face as it covered a section of the fluffy white duvet he'd bought specifically for her. There was something especially intimate about him buying her something that could so easily become the perfect base for a nest, but she knew it was only a part of his alpha instincts to give an omega something so special even if they were only friends. The rest of the room still held the potted plant she gifted him at his housewarming, sitting right in the bay window as the vining leaves draped themselves over the sill. A humidifier was stationed in the corner of the room, just beside the walk-in closet, a detail she knew he had in his own room because then he could turn it on just before bed after grabbing his pj's or turn it off in the morning after he got ready for work. The bedside table had a scented candle left with its cap off, allowing the strong scent of him to be filtered through the lens of autumn leaves and vanilla whipped cream. 

(Y/N) felt at home as she stepped over the threshold. Harry's hand on her back disappeared as he moved around her, settling her bag on her temporary bed with a bounce of the mattress. 

"Everything look good?" he asked her over his shoulder as he began to fuss over the little plant in the window. 

"Yeah, thank you. It's perfect." (Y/N) could hear the smile in her own tone, with Harry surely able to smell her happiness as it flooded the room. 

Pride lifted Harry's shoulders as he gave her a lopsided smile over his shoulder, having rotated the plant just enough so the baby leaves that just sprouted had the most sunlight. "Good, that makes me happy," he told her, his voice a quiet croon. 

It was moments like these especially that (Y/N) couldn't believe he didn't have an omega. She knew that if she had the chance and wasn't so worried about the friendship they had curated, she would be clinging to him at all times, scenting all over and pining for his mark on her neck. He was too good of an alpha and a caregiver to be on his own, she believed. 

Settling on the edge of the mattress, Harry unzipped her bag with the intention of helping her unpack just like he always did when she stayed for a little longer than a couple of days. "Has your building told y'any more about what's going on?" he asked her, pulling out her rolls of outfits from the weekender. 

"Not really," she shook her head, taking his offerings to the closet with the door open behind her, "I overhead one of my neighbours talking about bugs, though. Like, a lot of them. Enough that the foundation or structure, or whatever, of the building isn't doing great. Some people might have to get their walls knocked down, too." 

"(Y/N)," Harry sighed, absently reaching for another set of clothes to pass off, "Jus' come live with me, love. I told you that landlord wasn't right when we did that walkthrough." 

"I know, I know, H," she said, used to this conversation from the many times Harry tried to convince her to move in, "But, its close to campus and rent is low, that's all I'm looking for right now."

"What happens when your entire floor falls through because bugs have eaten through the entire structure, hm?" he pressed, raising a brow at her while he plugged in all of her chargers. 

"I'm sure my rent will be even lower then." 

"(Y/N), please," Harry tried again, not laughing at her attempt to joke, "This worries me. I don't like thinking y'live somewhere so unsafe that they're kicking you out for a week—if not more—because the building might fall apart. You know I wouldn't make y'pay rent, and I can drive y'to class every morning on m'way to work." 

Turning towards him, abandoning the hanger she was layering with clothing, (Y/N) gave Harry the same look she did when they talked about this. "You know it's not that easy, H" 

"But, aren't we close enoug—" 

"You're not my alpha, Harry. I don't want to live with anyone that isn't mine like that." 

Though she felt bad to cut him off, she knew he wasn't going to understand otherwise. Yes, they were close enough she told people he was her best friend, but he wasn't hers. He wasn't someone that scented her, kissed her, or marked her. He wasn't her alpha. 

Something ticked in Harry's jaw as he matched her eyes, the intensity making (Y/N) want to instinctively curl in on herself. "Trust me, I know," he murmured, "I jus' worry about you, (Y/N). Please at least think about it this week." 

"I can do that," she relented with a quiet nod, "I'm sorry I worry you, I don't mean to." 

Rising from his spot on the bed, Harry stood to the full of his height with his arms open for her. "Don't need to be sorry, 's not your fault 'm a worrywart," he told her once she stepped into his hug, arms cradling her shoulders while he pressed his cheek to her hair, "Jus' think about it for me. Even if y'only spend time here until y'find another place to live if your bug building gets worse." 

"I will," she promised with a sigh, stopping herself before she could tuck her nose into the curve of his neck no matter how badly her instincts were urging her to do so, "Thank you for always letting me stay here if I need it." 

"I love it when you're here with me, (Y/N), you know that. Makes me happy when all I have to do to see you is go down the hall." Though no one else was in the room—or the house, even—Harry spoke with his voice low as if he were sharing a secret only for her to hear. 

Scrunching her eyes closed, (Y/N) curled herself tighter against Harry's chest. All she wanted to do was cling to him and inhale all of him that she could, scent him so she could take that crisp warmth with her wherever she went. But, like she had just told him: he's not her alpha. If she dared to even graze her nose along his neck, it would be far too intimate an act for two people who claim to be nothing more than best friends, she knew that. 

Harry ran his hand along the plane of her back, palm warm as he skimmed over her skin through the loose knit of her sweater. "'S gonna be alright, love. Don't worry about your place, okay?" 

While that wasn't exactly what was making her tummy hurt, she wasn't going to correct him. 

—————

(Y/N)'s absolute favorite thing about waking up at Harry's place had to be the fact she was completely enveloped in his scent from the second she opened her eyes. While everything was clean and washed before she came over, the detergent and softener smell couldn't even dream to cover up the smell of everything Harry that had soaked into the fabric. Bringing the sheet up to her nose, (Y/N) indulged herself in a deep inhale of crisp apples and burnt cinnamon, deep and warm and heady. 

All alphas had their own scent, distinctly identifiable, but they all had that deep dominance in common. Nothing could completely cover it up the same way suppressants could conceal an omega or neutralizers could cover a beta. There would always be a little bit of something—a base note of dark wine, or peppery firewood—that seeped through even the strongest of concealments. And, (Y/N) loved that when it came to Harry. She knew he set up a scented candle for her every time because he didn't want to overwhelm her with the strength of his scent after going from her light omega surroundings, but she always made a point to cap it before she went to sleep on her first night. By the time she woke up, nothing could hinder the smell of him. 

The only thing that could top waking up in his scent was getting to lie in it all morning—which, since it was a Saturday, she got to do. 

She didn't know how long she soaked in the smell of him, in a half dream state as she dozed in and out of sleep with the help of his comforting scent, but by the time Harry knocked on her door, she still felt like she hadn't gotten enough of him. 

"Yeah?" she called out to him, stretching under the sheets as she tried to pry her eyes open. 

Harry carefully cracked the door open, peeking his head in with a soft smile on his face as soon as he saw her wrapped in her bedding with wild hairs framing her face. "Jus' wanted to see if y'were awake. I have some breakfast from earlier waiting for you in the microwave if y'were awake enough to come downstairs." 

"What'd you make?" (Y/N) peeped as she threw her legs over the side of the bed, feet searching for her slippers. 

"French toast and those hashbrowns y'like." 

It was the same breakfast he always made at least once for her when she stayed over. 

"And chocolate milk?" 

"And apple juice, if y'wanted something different." 

She hoped he could smell the way her heart perked up for him. He really knew her so well.

—————

"Are you sure its alright that I tagged along today?" 

The lopsided grin that molded Harry's features grew as he looked down at her for a second as he steered the shopping cart. "(Y/N), jus' because y'ask me four different times doesn't mean you're going to get a different answer." 

"I know," she sighed, rerouting herself when Harry made a quick turn into the bread aisle, "I just feel bad you're shopping for me since I'm only staying with you for a week." 

Harry shrugged, reaching for a loaf of thick bread to be placed in his trolley. "I don't mind, jus' like I've already told you. And, it might be longer, remember? We need to, at least, get a couple of things for you to take to class." 

"I'm going to pay you back for all of this, Harry," she cemented, following after him as moved an aisle down for all things pasta, "I know you're going to say no, but I am. This is more than just letting me stay with you for a little while. I wouldn't feel right if I didn't give you something for all of this." 

"Just be happy and consider what we talked about the other day, okay? That's all I want from you—nothing else, alright?" 

"But, Ha—" 

"Do you like the five cheese marinara or the basil and garlic more?" Harry cut her off, holding up two opposing jars of spaghetti sauce.

Raising an unimpressed brow, (Y/N) looked to Harry's seemingly oblivious face between the two raised jars. "Harry." 

Puckering his lips to the side, Harry turned the jars to get a look at the labels. "Yeah," he hummed, "We should try both. I haven't tried this brand yet, anyway, so I don't know which one is better for the gnocchi." 

"Harry," she tried again, a giggle seeping into her words as she followed after his slow steps down the shelves of dried pasta, "Please." 

"Nope," he popped, reaching to the highest shelf with ease as he grabbed for a package of whole-wheat linguine, "'M not listening." 

"C'mon," she tried again, stepping in front of him so he couldn't get away too easily with the cart in tow. "It's not a big deal, as soon as I get paid I'll just—" 

"No, you won't," he solidified, looking down at her with the full intensity of his green eyes, "Remember what I promised you?" 

"I can't believe you're using that against me, right now, in the middle of the pasta aisle." (Y/N) playfully puffed out her bottom lip. 

"What? Y'don't like being reminded that I like to take care of you where everyone can see you get all flustered? Is that it, (Y/N)?" 

Maybe it was the way he didn't dare pull his gaze from hers or the deep tone of voice that rumbled through his chest, but (Y/N) felt her tummy tighten as she gazed up at him. Did she get flustered when he talked about the promise? If she did, she'd never noticed before. But, it seemed Harry did. 

"I don't get flustered," she countered lamely, fluttering her lashes as she dropped her gaze, allowing him to win that game. 

"Yes you do," he sung, a tease coating his voice as he ducked his head into her line of sight, "Every time I say something, I swear your eyes get all dreamy and y'won't look at me until your butterflies stop." 

"I don't have butterflies." 

Harry shook his head then, lopsided smile and a single dimple in his cheek. "Sure, y'don't, silly. And I don't smell them on you right now, either." With that, Harry straightened his posture and grabbed for the bar of the trolley. "Now, do y'want some of those little protein packs or fruit to take with y'between classes?" 

(Y/N) watched as Harry nonchalantly started down the aisle, moving towards the wall of refrigerators while she couldn't find it in her to unlock her knees and follow after. The muscles of his back shifted under his top as he pushed the trolley, black sweats hanging low enough on his hips that if he moved just right, she was allowed a peek at the tan skin of his hip. 

Something's changed. This wasn't the first time in the last couple of days since she'd started her stay that Harry had practically flirted with her. Sure, there had always been a little something to their interactions that solely came from the fact they were sexually compatible given their classes, but this was different. It was more than the friendly teasing that had been apart of their friendship since the beginning. He was doing more, pushing more, getting closer and speaking lower, a voice she wasn't familiar with. 

It'd only been three days since she started sleeping over—longer than any of her previous weekend stays—and (Y/N) was beginning to worry about what else he was going to start picking up on if he was now noticing just how easily flustered and butterfly-filled he could make her. 

"Are y'coming, love?" Harry called to her from the end of the aisle, his brows pinched as he beckoned to her. 

Immediately, she perked up, not wanting to be left behind. "Yeah, sorry." 

"'S alright, jus' stay close, yeah?" he murmured once she was close enough, corralling an arm around her back to tug her between his chest and the handlebar of the cart, "Saw some alpha looking for a little too long and getting a little too close to you." 

"Really?" She really must have been oblivious if she didn't notice a whole other dominating presence creeping up on her.

"Mhm," Harry grumbled, his hands on either side of her flexing around the bar as he escorted them towards the snacks, "No reason for him to be getting so close, especially when you've got m'smell all over you." 

(Y/N) was grateful for the fact he only had a view of her back when a small smile plucked at the edges of her mouth. If she allowed her mind to wander, she could argue he sounded... protective over her. Like he had claimed her.

"I'll stay right here, then," she murmured, "No more wandering." 

A contented hum that verged on a soothed purr rumbled Harry's chest. "Thank you." 

—————

(Y/N) jumped as the sound of Harry's laughter pulled her from her half-asleep state. Her eyelids fluttered open with a quiet gasp, only to see a different Julia Roberts rom-com gracing the television screen than the one she remembered playing the last time she had her eyes open. Maybe she had been a little more than half-asleep. 

Making a point to sit up from the curling position she found herself in, (Y/N) shifted under the quilt that was taken from her temporary bedroom. With a short stretch, she folded her legs underneath her and pushed her back firmly against the cushions. Leaning against the back of the couch, she found Harry's arm tossed around her form, the warmth not having shown up on her radar in her sleepy daze. 

Once he realized she was awake, (Y/N) saw from the corner of her eye as he gave her a fond look before ducking his head down. With his lips hovering by her ear, he spoke as if they really were at the cinema they were pretending his living room to be, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake y'up. I promise I was trying to be quiet." 

"I wasn't asleep, its alright," she mumbled out, clearing her voice she in hopes of living up to her facade. Running a heavy hand through her hair with a clarifying tug at the roots, (Y/N) tried her best to suss out what was happening on the T.V. If she squinted enough with the sleep in her eyes, she was somewhat sure that Mystic Pizza was playing. 

"Right, cause you knew y'were drooling on my shoulder for the last half hour, and you jus' thought it was too funny to stop," Harry countered, canting his head to the side with a nonchalant half shrug while the light from the television highlighted the side of his face. 

Eyes wide and jaw dropped, (Y/N) felt her grogginess leach from her system, warm embarrassment replacing it. 

"I didn't drool on you," she denied, her eyes drifting down to the shoulder of his shirt before flicking back to his shaded gaze, "Did I?" 

A little too smug of a smile molded his features before he shook his head. "No, but now I know you were sleeping," he teased, his grin only widened when she saw her lips puff into a pout. "'S alright if y'were asleep, love. I can turn off the movie and we can go to bed, if y'want. It's getting late, anyway." 

(Y/N) was quick to shake her head, knowing the long day Harry had and that he was taking this time to decompress. "No, no, it's okay. Let's finish this one, and then we'll see," she insisted, focusing her gaze forward, "What did I miss?" 

Though she had her eyes trained forward, watching Julia Roberts' character find her love interest in a bar, (Y/N) could feel Harry's eyes lingering on her as he made no attempt to follow the direction of her gaze. Heat traced over her profile as if he were running his fingertips over the planes of her face. The warmth danced over the bridge of her nose and bounced across her Cupid's bow though she swore he lingered over the pillows of her lips. A beat passed before she peeked over at him, the intensity of his gaze confirmed when he didn't mind matching her eyes and didn't shy away when she caught him. 

"What?" she peeped. 

Something flashed in his eyes—either it was the light from the T.V. or something else, (Y/N) didn't know, but she saw it. 

"Nothing," he murmured, voice low and purring, "C'mere." 

Slipping his arm from around her waist, he pulled the quilt that was draped over their laps to sit on his other side in a bundle. 

"Wait, wh—" 

"Lay down, love," he told her, nodding his head towards his lap, "I'll bundle y'up as soon as you're comfortable." 

A small smile tugged at (Y/N)'s lips when she realized what he was suggesting. They hadn't cuddled like this in a while, probably not since before her last relationship ended over a year ago. 

Shuffling her way over the couch, (Y/N) laid herself out on the cushions with her legs scrunched to fill out the remaining two with her head landing in Harry's lap. The full of his thighs worked as her pillow, warm and comforting with her most favorite smell of all surrounding her, right from the source. Even with the muscles cording his arms and beefing his stature, Harry was gentle as he tucked the quilt around her form, keeping her warm and cuddled up. 

"This better?" he asked her. The dark of the living room allowing only peeks and glances at his features once the scene on the television lit up enough to do so, but (Y/N) couldn't help but hope she really did see the fondness in his gaze and it wasn't just a trick of the light. 

"Yeah, thank you," she murmured, feeling her eyes grow heavy now that she was comfortable and well taken care of by an alpha. 

"Good," he smiled at her, grazing his fingertip across her brow to pull a stray hair that threatened to peek in to her line of sight, "If y'fall asleep, 's alright. I'll take y'upstairs, okay? I jus' want y'to relax, (Y/N)." 

The soothing rumble of his tone and the careful skim of his skin against hers was enough to have (Y/N) fluttering her eyes closed in contentment. "Okay, H," she responded dreamily. 

Shifting to lay on her side, (Y/N) cuddled in with her hands under her chin while Harry played with her hair in soothing motions. Though she tried to keep track of the film for as long as she could, (Y/N) didn't stand a chance with the warmth of Harry's touch skating through her hair and the comfort of his scent wafting to her nose directly from the source. The audio of the movie became background noise that helped set the tone for the nonsensical dream that was beginning to shape up behind her eyelids. 

Until Harry started purring, of course. 

That became the center of her focus then. The rumbling deep tone of his purring comforted her farther than what just the smell of him and his soft touches could do. None of her previous alphas had ever shared something so intimate with her, knowing that purring like this could feel like music to an omega like her—especially seeing as how she was fostering feelings for Harry. 

Maybe he didn't even realize he was doing it, or maybe it was the pending dream talking, but (Y/N) liked to think he wanted to share this with her.

—————

Harry rolled his neck after shifting his car into park in the garage. With his eyes closed, he let out a deep breath as he relaxed into the plush leather of his seats. This week has been excruciatingly long, and it was only Thursday. 

And, it was because of (Y/N). 

His workload was the same as always, maybe ticked up a tiny bit just because one of his team members was out for vacation, but nothing he couldn't handle. The only thing that plucked him off-kilter was his little houseguest. 

Not to say she was unpleasant to live with—quite the opposite if his badgering for her to move in with him meant anything—, but he found himself struggling more than usual around her. Harry knew since the day they met that they were compatible. Call it instincts or the fact she was so obviously an omega that balanced out the alpha in him, but Harry swore in his gut, he knew that (Y/N) was going to be special to him.

But, that had been years ago, back when she was with another alpha and had confided in Harry as a best friend. Though he never really lost that sparkle he felt for her, it was something he was able to manage, especially as it seemed she didn't feel that same glimmering affection towards him outside of being a best friend. 

These past days seemed to be putting that notion of management to the test, though. 

Harry didn't know what it was, but something shifted this time around. Maybe it was him; he knew he was toeing into territory not yet explored between them with the way he flirted with her more obviously, and tried to squeeze a cuddle in any time he could manage it. Even with that, Harry couldn't forget the way he caught her snuggling up to his sheets when he woke her most mornings for breakfast. With the scented candle he brought up for her capped and stowed away, she had her nose tucked into the sheets that had been stored in his linen closet next to his usual sets he alternated through for his own bed. He knew, that even though they were clean and unused, his scent had to have stuck to them and wiggled its way between every fiber. She was looking for him when she smelled those sheets. 

Even the other night during their impromptu movie night, (Y/N) had been the one initiating all of the snuggling until he had to corral her into settling down in his lap so she could get some actual sleep instead of knocking her head against his shoulder. When she looked up at him after he tucked the quilt around her form, he swore he saw something extra in her gaze; extra soft, extra fond, extra tender, extra trusting. He even purred for her.

Trust was as good as foreplay as far as Harry was concerned, the notion flooding his heart and calling to his more basic instincts, especially when the idea involved (Y/N). That was what had been plaguing him throughout his work days. No reprieve could even be offered when he came home, though—especially not on those days (Y/N) came home early enough from class to get dinner started with her scent trailing all around the house as she cleaned up and did bits of housework he would never expect from her. 

Still, that didn't mean he wasn't ecstatic to be coming home to her. He just didn't know how much more his heart could take before it gave out and he had to offer it up to her for repairs. 

Leaving the sanctity of his car behind, Harry came in through the garage. Though he hadn't expected (Y/N) to be back already, today being one of the days her classes ran longer than his workday, he was surprised to find the entire house soaked in her scent. More than usual. 

With brows furrowed, he stalked through the house, stopping to take a peek out the front window, (Y/N)'s car wasn't there just as he figured. Nonetheless, he couldn't ignore the way his entire house reeked with the smell of her fruity perfume though this selection was decidedly more heady and dark than what he was used to scenting from her. There wasn't even a discernible trail of where she might have been, the mass of scent having permeated through the whole space and planted itself in every inch.

Though the more basic parts of him were responding especially well to the glaze of omega scent that touched over all of his things, Harry couldn't help but feel concerned. She wasn't supposed to be home if her lack of car was any kind of proof, so he couldn't see why her smell would be so deeply ingrained no matter where he touched. 

Trailing up the staircase, with every step the perfume only grew stronger and stronger until he was directed to his bedroom. The door was left ajar only a small crack, but Harry didn't need that peek inside to know what he was going to find the second he pushed the door open. 

(Y/N) sat on her hands and knees, back and bottom facing Harry as she rummaged through a pile of his clothing she had ransacked and splayed out across the floor. Every suitable piece she found was tossed over her shoulder in the direction of his bed, where her nest was beginning to form, full of every soft piece of linen and bedding in the house as well as everything that was directly Harry's that carried his scent to the max. She'd even plucked her own clothing off in favor of putting herself in a large shirt of his and a pair of slouching sweats he'd worn to bed the night before. 

His bedroom was steeped in her scent. The typical notes of cherries and raspberries, creamy strawberries and alluring rose petals flitted to his nose before they were blended and aged into something heady and dark like the wine he had chilling downstairs. There wasn't a single surface left untouched with her smell. 

Harry felt his chest tighten as he breathed in, lungs filling but unwilling to let even a single particle of her scent leave his body. With her frantically pulling a nest together in his bedroom and the extra heat that was added to her scent, Harry knew what was going on as well as his body did in the way it reacted to her. 

"You're nesting," Harry said, voice low but firm as she stepped further into his bedroom. 

With a gasp, (Y/N) sat up from where she was reaching for another of his knitted sweaters to add to the mess that was becoming his bed. She turned with a flutter of her hair, eyes wide as her mouth dropped into a small gape the second she took him in. 

"Harry!" she breathed out, her features molding into a smile before she scrambled to her feet, "You're home!" 

She crossed the room in frantic steps, all but tripping over herself and the length of her borrowed sweats before she launched herself into Harry's arms. Harry stood solidly as she bounded into him, catching her around her waist as she pressed herself flush against his form. The absolute contentment he could smell mixing in with her pleasured scent was only made more apparent in the way she all but melted into his hold, arms looping around his neck as he gazed up at him with hearts in her eyes. 

"I am," he mumbled, trying his best to keep his mind clear despite the way her scent urged him to leave himself to his most basic instincts, "Didn't think y'would be, though." 

"Oh," she sighed, blinking her eyes with a flutter of her lashes, "yeah, I left class early today." 

He couldn't say he was surprised. "Yeah? What happened?" 

(Y/N) didn't even seem to be aware of the way she squirmed in his arms, her chest pressing tightly to his as she lined her hips up perfectly with the full of his thigh. He stayed unmoving as she did so, forcing himself to keep a strong hold on his control until he had a better understanding of what was happening. 

"I don't know, I don't remember," she bubbled off for him, a lazy smile on her features as she began to play with the baby curls on the nape of his neck, "I just wanted to be home with you." Just then, her face dropped, eyes rounding out with lips turning into a frown. "But then after my friend dropped me off—she said I wasn't allowed to drive myself because it wouldn't be safe, so I'll have to get my car tomorrow or something, I don't know. Anyway, she dropped me off and when I saw you weren't home, I got so sad, H. I forgot you worked." 

As mind-muddling as this whole thing was, her scent clouding his head and directing his blood flow south, he couldn't help but smile some at her explanation. She forgot he had a job and wouldn't be home, even though he had said goodbye to her this morning before he left. 

"Is that what got you all upset enough to start nesting in m'bedroom?" Harry pressed, pulsing his arms around her waist when the roll of her hips got a little too deliberate over the full of his thigh. 

Her brow pinched in the middle as if she forgot that was what he had walked in on her doing, the mess on his bed having been thrown from her mind the second he walked through the door. "I guess so," she shrugged, "I knew I wanted to make a nest when I came back even if you were home, and I guess I wanted to make it in your room." 

The idea of (Y/N) toddling home with the intention to nest, only to instinctively go straight to his room, had him seconds away from backing her into his bed and shucking those sweats from her legs once he got her settled in her nest. 

"And y'put m'clothes on?" he murmured, ducking his head down until he felt the tip of her nose grazing his own. 

Not a bit of shame or embarrassment he knew would normally have followed an admittance like this came as (Y/N) nodded her head with a lingering smile. "I missed you." 

"I missed you, too," he told her, the effects of her scent having nothing to do with that, "Y'said y'don't remember why y'had to leave class? Or why your friend had to drive y'back?" 

"I mean," she drawled, tilting her head with a giggle, her throat exposed to Harry's gaze. He swallowed as he traced his eyes over the delicate curve. "I think I do, but I'm scared to tell you." 

The mention of her fear pulled Harry from his lost fantasy as he imagined sinking his teeth into the delicate skin that covered her pulse. She would look so pretty with a mark like that on her throat. 

"Why? You know y'don't have to be scared to tell me things," he told her, his voice turning to a coo that he knew would draw more of her compliance to the surface. If this was what he thought it was, he needed to hear it directly from her. 

"I know, I know," she sighed, matching her gaze to his with that same dreamy quality swirling in her irises, "But I don't want to make everything weird. I don't want you to stop holding me." 

His fingertips gently denting the soft planes of her back, Harry held her tightly against his chest, matching her gaze with his own intensity. "I won't, love, see? Hugging y'even tighter, so now you've got to tell me." 

Though she attempted to bite back her smile, the curve of her lips took over the softened features of her face. He couldn't help but match her expression with a quirk of his own lips, dimple denting his cheek as she raised herself to stand on her tip toes. Meeting her halfway, he ducked his head down and turned his ear to her. 

"I think, I'm having my heat." 

Her voice was a breathy whisper as her lips hovered by his ear, her breath fanning across his heated skin. Her words practically dripped over his skin like warm honey, sticky sweet and heavy as they clung to him. 

"Yeah? You think so?" he pressed, voice deep enough to verge into alpha territory as his arms tightened around her. 

"Mhm," she hummed, canting her head to the side as if she didn't know how tempting that sight would look to Harry in his state. She was lucky she wasn't being as squirmy as before, otherwise all the hard work she put into her nest would have been for nothing with how quickly he would have torn it apart with her on all fours for him. "I've only ever needed to nest this bad when I've been on my heat," she explained, her voice becoming the perfect counterpart to the deep gravel his was leaning into, "But, I've only ever had my heat when I've been with my last alphas, so I do—"

(Y/N) cut herself off as she jumped in his arms, mouth falling open at the low grumble that shook his chest. In a second her pupils were blown wide as he looked up at him, her breathing stuttering in conjunction with the racing of her heart that all but shook her veins. Harry watched as she tipped her head to the side, relaxing against as she bared her neck to him.��

"Don't speak about them," he told her, voice low and deep, just one octave above dipping into his alpha voice and making it a command she couldn't refuse. 

"Sorry," she whispered though she didn't look all that sorry given how turned on she was. 

"Are you?" 

The frantic nod she gave him as she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth was all the response he was given before she tightened her hold around him. He felt her body move against him as she strained on her tiptoes, her nose skimming his jawline as she spoke in a whisper, "Let me show you." 

Just before she made a move to stuff her face in his neck, scent him just as intimately as he had imagined since he'd met her those years ago, Harry was reminded of the flash of her blown pupils. Her breathless voice rung in his ears and the intoxicating scent of her that not only muddled his head but no doubt had her spiraling since she made the choice to come home earlier in the day. He was quick to shift his hold on her, grabbing for the back of her neck before she could make the choice to scent him, a line they never crossed when they were both sound of mind. 

(Y/N) whined when she was stopped, her brows pinching as her lips puffed into a pout. "Why did you do that?" 

It took every bit of strength he had to combat his instincts, trying to tame himself against the heat of her body and the fact she was so willing to do anything for him, anything to make him happy. If she really was in her heat, the fact she had only every gone through them with whatever alpha she had been with at the time made it that much clearer to Harry that this wasn't something she would want with him normally. She wasn't of sound mind. She thought she wanted him because he was the closest alpha to her—the easiest one around to quell her needs.

While he wasn't in a much better headspace than her, he knew he had a better chance of saving them from the regret (for (Y/N) when she woke up and realized she'd let someone she only had platonic feelings for be so intimate with her) and heartbreak (for Harry when he saw her come to that realization) that would ensue the morning after. This wasn't a good idea despite how much his body wanted to convince him otherwise. 

"We can't, (Y/N)," he told her, softening his tone as he massaged the back of her neck in hopes of soothing the rough way he had grabbed her in the first place. 

"Why not?" she whined, her arms around his neck tightening, "Don't you want me? I thought you liked my nest, and I've been making dinner and cleaning up while you're at work. I thought I've been a good omega for you." 

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Harry forced himself to refocus as he listened to her. 

"Y'have been really good, (Y/N). Such a good omega, you know that," he attempted to soothe her, distracting her with his words as he unlaced his hands around her waist in favor of unwinding her arms from his neck. He watched as he perked up at the praise. "I'd be so lucky to have you, I know that. I've wanted y'for so long it hurts, but you don't want me like that." 

(Y/N) was quick to shut him down with a shake of her head, her hands in his turning into a tight grip that urged him to stay. "That's not true! I do want you! I nested with all your clothes, Harry! I want you around me all the time, you're the only one that can make me feel better. I love you, isn't that enough?" 

He swallowed as he tried not to let her pleading go to his head. He'd been waiting around for years to hear her say anything close to that ramble she just shared with him. But, the second he reminded himself that wasn't really her—that it wasn't really his shy, sweet best friend who looked to him for comfort and safety without the pressure of other alphas—he knew he couldn't let himself get caught up. 

"Of course, that's enough, (Y/N). I jus' don't think rig—" 

"Don't you love me, too?" 

The back of Harry's jaw ticked as he processed her words, his gaze dropping to the ledge of her collarbones. He didn't have the strength to look into her eyes as she said things like that and keep his head on straight. 

"I do, (Y/N), so much. For so long, too. But, I think you and I both know that you're not in the right state of mind right now for us to talk about that, right? Are you listening to me?" Maybe he was using his alpha-sway to his advantage, but he needed to know (Y/N) was listening to him, even if she wasn't quite understanding or agreeing for the time being. 

"But—" 

"No, jus' need y'to listen to me right now—that's how you'll be a good omega for me," he explained, tilting his head as he waited for her to mirror him to know she was in tune to what he was saying. "I think your heat is telling you that y'need me, but I don't think that's true. And I wouldn't want to do anything to my best friend that might upset her, even if she thinks its what she wants. Do I?" 

The short shake of her head he earned was enough to have a lopsided smile curling his lips. 

"You won't upset me, though," she peeped back, eyes shining, "I want you so bad because I love you, Harry." 

Though the sentiment she shared was enough to have his already hammering heart skip a beat, he needed to level himself out before he only did something that would upset himself in the morning. 

"I know," he told her, thought he wasn't so sure of that, "How about y'sleep in m'room tonight, and we'll see how y'feel in the morning if anything's changed. Do whatever y'need to do to make yourself happy, alright? I'll be downstairs." On instinct, he wanted to tack on that she could could grab him if she needed him, but that wasn't the kind of invitation she needed to hear at the moment. "I want to help you, love, I really do. But, I can't." 

Harry swore his heart broke as he watched her face fall, tears tingling on the waterline of her eyes as he sat her down on the edge of his bed. The mess of his clothes and fluffy linens shifted as the mattress sunk under her weight, but she didn't seem to pay her little project any mind with the way her eyes were glued to him. 

"I'll see you in the morning, alright?" 

Harry waited for any kind of response until (Y/N) only gave him a small nod. 

He was able to make it out, door shut behind him just before he heard the beginning of her breathless crying. 

—————

Waking up in the morning, Harry felt more exhausted than he's sure he would have if he had just stayed upstairs with (Y/N). 

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he sat up from where he made an impromptu bed on the couch with the single sheet (Y/N) had left in the closet during her effort to make her elaborate nest. He cringed as he rolled his neck; the throw pillow he had stuffed under his head put a crick in the muscles during the three hours he was able to sleep. 

It wasn't (Y/N)'s fault that he wasn't able to shut his mind off or stop listening to everything happening only a floor above him until he finally passed out at three a.m.. She had whined for him for an hour, the cries muffled through the floor separating them, but he knew she was calling for him with every puffed sob. Guilt plagued his every thought as he listened, willing himself to stay just where he was at on the living room couch, no matter how much the alpha in him urged him to soothe his favorite little omega and give her anything she wanted. After she calmed down from that, he listened to the way she darted through his room, her feet shuffling over the floor as she assumedly perfected her nest or whatever she needed to do to fulfill herself without an alpha at her disposal. He tried hard not to think about what the creaking of his mattress could mean the later the night went on. It was only when she seemed to find her own reprieve, quieting for a bit of time, that Harry was able to lull himself to sleep. 

Now, at six a.m., his body apparently deciding he didn't need anymore sleep though his brain begged to differ, he figured he might as well check in on (Y/N). If he thought he had a bad night, he could only imagine how the last handful of hours had been for her. He didn't know how much of their conversation the night before was something that would still hurt her in the light of day, but he hoped anything he said that would still upset her sound mind could be soothed with a plate of his cinnamon French toast and that special raspberry honey he found at the farmer's market that she loved. 

Stretching out his limbs, Harry caught his bearings. Swinging his legs over the side of the couch, his bare feet touching the hardwood sent an orienting chill up his body. Not only was his neck and back going to hurt for the next three days at least, he'd also managed to sleep in his work clothes, keeping him from getting comfortable in his skin. The best part, he was going to have to shower and change right into another set just like it. 

Standing from the couch, he made slow work of folding up the sheet and placing it at the foot of the couch, to be put away when he had a moment. It wasn't until he started towards the bedroom upstairs that he realized there was noise coming from the kitchen, silence filling the upstairs. A pinch pulled at his brows as he slowly woke fully. 

While there was evidence of (Y/N)'s perfume everywhere in his house still, the concentration had dropped considerably. The sweetened top notes that he always associated with her won out against the dark merlot-heavy essence that mixed in the night before. Everything was decidedly less frantic throughout the house, less muddled and more in order, even if that was just because the haze of her scent was no longer clouding his judgment. 

"(Y/N)?" he called out as he ventured towards the kitchen. 

"I'm in here," she answered, her voice decidedly quieter than what he was hollering through the house. She was embarrassed, that much he could tell already, her scent growing demure as if she were trying to shrink herself from the inside out. 

Stepping into the kitchen, he found her now dressed in her own pajamas, damp hair pulled up from her neck into a twist as she stood in front of the stove. The entire kitchen had been wiped down from the midnight snack he made for himself after (Y/N) had settled some in the night, leaving only the supplies she'd used while making breakfast on the counter. 

"Morning," he mumbled, finding a post at the kitchen island to lean into with his elbows on the surface. 

"Morning," she chirped back, trying to hide the demure rose he could smell in her scent. "I'm just finishing up the hashbrowns, but I already made omelettes and everything. It should be ready in a second."

Typically, heats could last somewhere from three days to a full seven depending on the omegas needs and whether or not an alpha was there to fulfill them. Even in the most mild of cases—which hers was not if any of the frantic bubbling and devastated pleas for him to stay were anything to go by—(Y/N) shouldn't be up and caring for him so early in the morning. She even had time to shower and wash her hair, something Harry knew could take her close to an hour depending on how long she felt like luxuriating under the water. 

"How are y'feeling?" he tested, watching her for reactions despite the way she had her back to him. 

With spatula in hand, she scooped out the shreds of potatoes and doled out sections to each plate. She shrugged as she did so, though Harry could see the set of her spine was anything but nonchalant. 

"It was—um—it was a false heat," she murmured, "So, I was able to sleep it off after I calmed down." 

"Oh," he sounded, nodding his head. That wasn't too surprising; it's happened before to omegas. If they spend enough time around an alpha, someone they trust but might not be intimate with, it can push them into a false heat with their body running through the adrenaline and the need for a companion, only for the effects to wear off in twenty-four hours. 

"Yeah," she affirmed, turning to him with their plates of breakfast in hand. Silence settled over them as she rounded the island and picked a stool near where Harry was leaning, his plate being placed just at his side. Taking the invitation to sit, Harry waited as he watched her, noting the way she seemed tightly wound and unable to look at him for longer than a second before her eyes were focusing on something else. 

"Y'feel alright now, though?" he gently prodded. Something was wrong and she wasn't sharing it with him.

"Yeah, just tired," she simplified, nodding her head before she poked at her omelette with her fork. 

"Gonna stay home today, then?" he asked, cutting off a bite of the hashbrowns with the side of his fork. 

"Kind of have to since I don't have my car," she breathed out, attempting to make herself laugh in spite of the obvious discomfort surrounding her. 

"Right," he smiled, the curl nothing more than a facade that he wanted so badly to ease (Y/N). 

Every word that came out of her mouth was a chirp, nothing more. No explanation, as if to avoid any kind of conversation with him. This wasn't at all how he saw the morning after, especially not after he tried so hard to keep things from getting messy between them.

"Harry?" she asked after a beat, looking to him though her eyes were stationed on the countertop under his hand. After Harry hummed an acknowledgment, she paused as she took in a deep breath, flitting her eyes to his where he found a sheen covering them. "I'm so sorry," she peeped.

In an instant he was off his stool with open arms, moving to collect her and soothe her, "Oh, (Y/N)." 

"No, no," she shook her head, her fork clattering to her plate as she waved her hands in front of her. Harry stopped in his tracks, wanting so badly to soothe her but knowing that she wasn't going to let him. "What I did last night wasn't right, and it wasn't fair. I tried to force myself on you after you said no so many times, and then kicked you out of your room all because I couldn't calm down. It's not f-fair"—now the sniffling began with tears running over her waterline—"that I went th-through all of your stuff without asking, all because I wanted to ne-nest. I'm so, so, so sorry. I can't be-believe I did all that to you and you were still so nice to me." 

By then, she couldn't contain the sobs that puffed her chest and stunted her lungs. Harry couldn't hold himself back as he saw her hang her head in her hands, palms to her eyes as she cried her heart out in the middle of his kitchen. As carefully as he could manage, he wrapped her in his arms, giving a moment's time for her to push him away if she wanted her space, but it was her that snuggled deeper against his chest once the warmth was offered. 

"'S alright, (Y/N), really," he crooned to her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head before smushing his cheek in the same spot, "I know that wasn't you, okay? You're such a sweet girl, I knew y'weren't being yourself as soon as y'started talking to me like that. I don't blame you, okay? Heats and ruts can make us do crazy things, especially when we aren't prepared." A smile quirked his lips when he felt her nod her head against his chest, tears smattering his shirt as she clutched the fabric in her fists. "And I offered to sleep on the couch, remember? I knew y'needed your space and I didn't mind that y'needed m'things or m'bed to feel comfortable through it all. Besides, it was a wonderful little nest y'made, no reason for me to complain." 

A hiccuping laugh was muffled against his chest as she nuzzled her nose into his top. "Th-Thank you." 

"I wish I could have taken care of you, so y'didn't wake up feeling like this. I was so worried, I jus' didn't know how to help you, (Y/N). It scared me," he murmured to her, the words sinking into the strands of her hair. 

"I didn't mean to." 

"I know, sweet girl, I know. Not your fault at all, remember?" 

A beat passed as she melted into his arms, the scent of her curling and flourishing the more she let herself relax after the morning she'd had. With her face still tucked against his chest, the tip of her nose skimming his skin through his top, she whispered, "Can I ask you something?" 

"Course, sweet girl." He liked the way her scent peaked in contentment, roses blooming and strawberries flowering anytime he dubbed her his sweet girl. 

"Last night, I know I was kind of out of it, but I remember you telling me you loved me," she started, "It didn't feel like when you usually tell me, though. I-I think you told me you've loved me for a long time... What did you mean when you said that?" 

Now it was Harry's turn to go dry-mouthed as he fought to formulate an answer. He had almost been hoping she wouldn't remember something like that. 

He must have floundered for a second too long when (Y/N) pulled away from his chest, looking up to him with glossy, red-rimmed eyes before she tried to backtrack. "If I'm totally wrong, that's fine, I'm sorry I brought it up. I don—" 

"You weren't," he cut her off in a rush, the words falling from his mouth before he could control them, "You weren't wrong." 

Harry watched as her eyes widened with a glimmer sparking through her irises. The smallest curve plucked at the corner of her lips just as her scent went even sweeter—a sign of sticky, sweet joy dribbling into her system.

"I'm not?" 

Taking in a deep breath full of her fruited scent, Harry shook his head. "No, I did say that," he started, shifting his hold on her to land with his hands on her waist, "And I meant it differently than when we usually say it. I meant it." 

The hands she had bundled in his top tightened, the fabric hers now with how hard she gripped it. "You meant it like—like—" 

"Like 'm in love with you." 

The way she perked up in his arms with a quiet gasp had all of Harry's worry draining from his system. She looped her arms around his neck, mimicking the position he found himself with her the night before but with much more clarity and less squirming. "Are you being serious, Harry?" she bubbled off, bouncing in her spot with her eyes bright and smile big. 

Seeing her get so excited made his heart race. "Why wouldn't I be?" 

"Because, you're—I—," (Y/N) couldn't contain herself as she pulled herself to his chest with a bubbly squeal, "You like me!" 

"I do," he cemented with a breathy laugh, ducking his head down until the tip of his nose was skimming hers, "Can I take it that y'like me back?" 

She nodded her head, hair fluttering around her face that had escaped from her clip, "So, so, so much!" 

"Yeah?" he murmured, voice low and cooing, "Enough to let me kiss you?" 

All it took was the bubbling nod of her head, nose nudging his in the process, before Harry stamped his lips against hers. It was clumsy with the way she struggled to keep from smiling, stop from squirming in her excitement, but Harry wouldn't have it any other way. She was his sweet girl, through and through. 

"Will you stay home with me today?" (Y/N) peeped in between a slew of sweet pecks he dotted over her mouth, sipping on her taste, "I-I don't want you to leave when we just figured all this out, H." 

"Give me one more kiss, then I need to make a phone call and tell someone 'm sick." The way (Y/N) smiled into their one last kiss had him running through what kind of faux-illness he could use to buy him a long weekend with her. 

It was only made that much better when he heard her giggling laughter as he left the kitchen in search for his phone. Her scent bloomed around the house, imprinting her deep enough he hoped she'd never leave. 

—————

this is def a little bit different for me ngl besties! I've never branched out into this kind of fic before so I really hope everyone enjoys! thank you all sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any ideas or requests of your own please send them in!!

[delopsia]

Soft Rhett Abbott Headcanons

I got carried away with the love languages request, and now I've got all these thoughts floating around my head. I might make a part 2 to this if anyone wants it, I have so many thoughts about this man :(

It took him nearly two weeks to work up the courage to even approach you, and he practically stumbled over every word when he asked to give you his number.

Only admitted to it one night when he was so drunk that he couldn't walk straight. If you bring it up, he turns bright red.

Has never had a proper birthday party. Growing up in the Abbott household meant birthdays were celebrated with a simple "happy birthday!" and that was that.

While Royal had him working for his 24th birthday, you busied yourself with getting a cake in his favorite flavor, decorating your place in balloons and streamers, the whole nine yards. When he walked in late that night, he took one long look at everything and just burst into tears.

"You didn't have to do all of this for me :(" but turns around and outdoes you every time your birthday rolls around.

Likes to use your shampoo and conditioner sometimes, just because he likes the smell of it and it reminds him of you.

You can do just about anything to him. Grab him by the neck and press him against the wall of a bar, paint his nails, practice putting makeup on him; he doesn't mind it at all. He's just happy to be there.

Really really, really loves it when you call him your sweet boy :(( visibly melts every time the phrase falls off your tongue.

"There's my sweet boy," the pet name slipping off your tongue like honey as you walk into the living room. Rhett's sitting on the floor, so perfectly concealed that you didn't see him there until your third pass by. "What're you working on?"

His scruffy cheek presses against your hip, "putting this end table together," you can hear the smile in his tone as he slowly blinks up at you like a cat.

Absolutely smitten.

On bad days, he buries his face in your belly and just stays there while you run your fingers through his hair. Will absolutely bat those pretty blue eyes up at you and pout if you take your hand away.

You get away with the things nobody else can.

Perry tested it once. Walked up behind Rhett and stole his hat right off his head, and Rhett just about took him to the ground. A little bit later, you did the same thing, and Rhett just smiled and said you could keep it until he had to go back to work.

There's one night when you really test it by showing up to the ranch unannounced, mid-blizzard, throwing rocks at his window until he wakes up.

"Darlin', have you gone mad?" Rhett yawns, his head poked halfway out the window, "what in the world are you up to down there?"

So barely awake that his eyes are still closed, but as you giggle, a goofy smile works its way over his tired features. "Come build a snowman with me?"

Five minutes later, Rhett's stumbling through the snow with you, robbing his driveway of rocks to make a face for your future family of snowmen. Not a complaint on his tongue or floating through his mind. If you want snowmen at three in the morning, then so does he.

Rhett does that thing in the morning, where he reaches over and drags you across the mattress until you're snug against his chest. Sleepily smiles and nuzzles his nose into your soft cheek.

He has zero problem making little grabby hands when he wants you in his arms. Genuinely does not care if his buddies at the rodeo think he looks silly when he does it, either.

Is going to call you small, even if you're a foot taller than him. He's going to find something to justify it, whether it be based on your height or something subtle, like how much bigger his hands are than yours.

"Rhett, I'm not that little" "But you're little to me :)"

Intentionally "forgets" his clothes at your place. There is nothing this man loves more than to see you wandering around in his clothes. It makes him feel so soft and mushy inside because here's this perfect little person mulling around the kitchen in his old hoodie.

Protective, but he's very good at knowing when he should and shouldn't step in. Will absolutely start a bar fight if that's what he needs to do to make someone respect your request to leave you alone.

Rhett's like one of those personal protection dogs. Bound to your hip, looking all menacing and ready to go whenever you feel unsafe. Will absolutely press his head into your hand when you scratch him behind the ear.

Ticklish to all hell, especially around his stomach and thighs. He starts giggling even when your fingers catch the skin there by accident, and he's in trouble if you decide to tickle him.

Giggles and squirms as he tries and fails to get you back, but even in his fit of laughter, he's very careful not to kick you. He will, however, wind up pinning you somehow, someway.

Kiss thief.

It doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing, he's going to be stealing at least one kiss. Goodbye kisses, hello kisses, "just because" kisses.

Rhett could kiss you for hours and not get tired of it. It's such a delicate, intimate thing, and every kiss feels as dreamy as the first one to him.

Do you want to dance in the rain? Would you like to? Because Rhett can't dance to save his damn life, but he really, really wants to spin you around and kiss you in the pouring rain.

You give Rhett something that nobody has ever given him before. A purpose, a reason to wake up every day and work himself to the bone on his father's ranch,

When Rhett looks at you, he sees everything he has ever wanted.

You are the sun, and he is the moon because that bright smile on his face is a reflection of you.

[neverasfarawayasitmayseemxo]

Welcome to the Neighborhood

You wake up to a loud banging sound. With a groan, you turn over and cover your pillow over your head.

The banging continues. Bang. Bang. Bang.

You eyes fly open and you can feel the anger permeate throughout your body. You check the clock and it's 8:30AM on a Saturday morning. You were out the night before so being woken up on a weekend like this was not ideal.

"What the fuuuuuuuuck" you mutter to yourself as you look out the window to see what was causing the sound.

There was a moving truck in the neighbors driveway. There were men carrying furniture into the house while another set of men were slamming hammers against the wrap around deck.

The house next door had been for sale for a month until now. A sweet old couple used to live there for at least 45 years but their daughter insisted on them moving into an assisted living home now.

You search the property to see if the person who now owned the house was out there but you didn't see anyone.

As the banging went on, you trudge downstairs to make coffee.

You turn on the coffee machine. With each bang, you felt your frustration increase. You have every right to march over there and tell the person off for doing such an inconsiderate thing at such an early hour.

All of the sudden, you hear a saw starting to whirr. That was the final straw.

You slip on your slides and march outside the front door and across the grass.

The front door was wide open. Two men from the moving company were carrying a couch through the door.

"Hello?" you call.

You peek around the truck to see if anyone was inside. Nope.

You walk towards the front door where the men were busy sawing wood.

"Excuse me?" you scream over the loud sound.

The man turns off the saw and lifts his goggles up.

"Yes?" he says.

"Where is the owner of this house?" you ask.

The man eyes you up and down.

"He's inside" the man points.

You thank him and walk up the stairs to the house.

"Hello?" you repeat as you walk right in. The house was completely empty except for the random furniture still wrapped in plastic splattered throughout the rooms.

"Right there, perfect." you hear someone say. You enter what used to be the living room in this house.

There was a man facing the fireplace directing two of the workers where to put the loveseat.

"Excuse me?" you say with a snotty tone. You were way too tired for this nonsense.

The man turns around and you almost lose your breath. He was stunning. He has gorgeous dirty blonde hair and a tight muscular body. He's wearing dark jeans, Timberland boots and a form fitting black tee. He has piercing blue eyes that you could not take your own eyes off of.

Hot or not, the fact that he woke you up was not okay.

"Hi? Um...you're not the mattress I ordered..." he says with a giggle.

You cross your arms over your chest.

"No, I'm definitely not. But I am your neighbor who isn't too happy about all the noise going on" you say.

The guy sucks a breath in through his teeth.

"I'm so sorry about that. I figured it was too early but this was the only time these guys could come" he says gesturing to the men in the back unwrapping the couch.

You look over at the couch then back at him. It wasn't his fault, the guy did need to move in.

"Just...next time, make it after 10am, okay?" you ask.

The guy smiles.

"Deal. I'm Austin, by the way" he says as he extends his hand towards you.

"I'm [Y/N]" you reply. His hand was soft and warm.

"Nice to meet ya, [Y/N]" he says. He would not take his eyes off of you. You were suddenly starting to get self-conscious showing up in just your silky matching pajamas.

"I better get back...welcome to the neighborhood" you say.

Austin leans his arm against the wall.

"And what a very warm welcome you bring" he says, sarcastically.

You roll your eyes.

"See you around" you say with a wave and head out the front door.

The guy was HOT...beyond hot. As you walk back into the house, you can't help but smile.

~

It's around 3:30PM when you finally get home from running errands all day.

You pull into your driveway and notice in Austin's front yard that the workers from this morning were gone. The deck still wasn't finished though.

You pick up your shopping bags and walk up the stairs to your front door.

You notice a large bouquet of lilies laying on the welcome mat. You bend down and unravel the card that was attached.

Sorry for the noise this morning....BTW, nice pjs :) - Austin

You set the card down on the table and bite your lip. He was TOTALLY flirting with you...right? And was this a weird gesture or no? You must be overthinking it.

You find a vase to put the flowers in and fill it up with water. About 10 minutes later, the doorbell rings.

You scurry over and look through the window. It's Austin.

You open the door and the cologne he's wearing immediately hits you in the face. It smells divine.

"Hi" he smiles. He's wearing a white t shirt, blue jeans and Timberland boots again. This time, he had a tool belt around his waist.

"Hi" you smile in return.

"I was wondering if you got my gift?" he asks.

You nod, "Yes I did, thank you. By the way, usually it's the person already living in the neighborhood who is supposed to give the gift to the new neighbor, not the other way around"

Austin laughs and sets his hands on his belt.

"Ah, I figured you deserve them. I caused enough ruckus this morning, thought I'd be friendly"

You look down at the floor and scuff your shoe against the wood floor.

"I also came over here to let you know I'm going to be working on the deck once more so it may get a little noisy" he says.

You giggle, "Go for it. You don't need my approval. Just remember...."

"After 10AM" he finishes.

You nod and he smiles.

"I'll catch you later then" he says, giving you a small salute with his hand and steps down the stairs.

You wave goodbye and close the door. Jesus Christ, you wanted to kiss him. He was so sexy.

You make yourself a sandwich and decide to sit down and watch a movie.

About an hour into the movie, you get up to make some popcorn. Your eyes catch the window as you walk by.

Austin was on the deck, hammering a nail into the wooden plank. You could tell he was sweating because his hair was getting sticky.

He stops and crosses his arms and lifts his shirt off of his head. His abs glisten in the sun. He uses his sweaty shirt to wipe his face. You could feel your jaw starting to drop.

Dear God.

You don't mean to stare but you can't help it. You watch as he bends down to place another board on top of the deck.

Just watching him made your insides tingle.

Suddenly, he looks over and you immediately drop down to the floor. You lean against your dishwasher and hide. Wow, he totally caught you.

You crawl back over to the couch, completely mortified that Austin was aware of you ogling him.

You hit play on the movie and try to distract yourself from the daydream in your head of Austin's sweaty body pressed up against yours.

[lacheri]

11:29 PM, 4/20

pairing: stoner!Eren and fem bodied reader

content: smoking/drugs, dumbification, finger fucking, penetration, porn without plot, minors DNI

summary: eren's been trying to fuck you for years now, and he's got a different angle to play at this time. all it takes are a few pretty words and free weed.

wc: 3.5k

notes: happy 4/20 lmfao i wrote this in two hours and i'm posting this unedited and half asleep

‘Rolling up, you sliding through?’

Your phone illuminated brightly against your face as you held your phone above you, your bed’s soft comforter brought up to your chin. You bit your lip, contemplating Eren’s invitation. Your eyes glanced to the clock in the corner of your phone screen, blinking a couple of times. ‘11:29 PM’ it read back.

‘Pleaaaase, 4/20 is almost over ):’ Eren had resorted to double texting, and you sighed, his battle easily won. You tried to believe it was fought hard, but you knew perfectly well that you were wrapped around Eren’s pretty little finger. He called, you answered. Simple as that.

‘I want a blunt all to myself for this Jaeger. I’m literally in bed right now’ you typed back quickly, clicking the off button on the side of your device, begrudgingly throwing your blanket off your body as the heat escaped. You gazed down at your attire, sweatshirt and sleep shorts bundled up to your form, and you sighed once again. Eren was going to have to accept you like this, because there was absolutely no way in Hell that you could fathom throwing on real clothes this late at night.

‘What’re you wearing? Send pics’

‘Eren I’m LITERALLY!!! On my way to your house right now’. This boy was going to be the death of you, or at least whatever brain cells you had left.

Fuzzy pink slides adorned on your feet, hair thrown up in the messiest ‘neat’ bun you could manage, you pocketed your keys and wallet. You grabbed your bookbag in the corner of your room full of paraphernalia, knowing well by now that Eren was too lazy to buy bongs or bowls, and made your way out of your home, locking the front door on your way out. You hit the unlock button on your car, throwing the bag in the passenger seat and set out for your late night journey.

It wasn’t uncommon for your best friend to hit you up so late, in fact it was Eren’s peak hours for hanging out. He never genuinely inconvenienced you, just an annoyance because every single time you got that invite text or call, your head would have just hit the pillow beneath you, sleep on the horizon. Traffic was the best at this time too, you would reason on the way there, virtually no cars on the road, turning your usual twenty minute ride into a ten minute one.

When you rolled up Eren’s driveway, you could see the dark red lights of his bedroom through the upstairs window on the front of the house. You picked your phone out of your pocket, texting a quick ‘I’m here’. You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and climbed out of your car. By the time you made it to his front door, Eren was swinging it open, a goofy smile on his face.

“Just us tonight?” you asked, referring to the lack of cars in the driveway as you glided through the entryway.

“Yeah, feeling greedy. We haven’t hung out just us in awhile,” Eren smirked, leaning back and letting his eyes travel down your spine as you slid by him. He reached and pulled the door closed, locking it quickly and following quickly behind you.

You spent most of your nights here, knowing the pathway to Eren’s room. You jogged up the stairs, oblivious to Eren’s eyes trained in on your bouncing ass in your loose fitted shorts. His bedroom door was wide open, and you navigated over clothes thrown haphazardly on his floor to his unmade bed. You bounced as you sat down, hitting the mattress with your full weight and unzipping your bag, picking out your favorite bowl. Eren lifted the corner of his mouth, clearly amused at how at home you had made yourself.

“Comfy?” he asked, a teasing tone to his voice as he joined you on the bed, rolling tray and jar of bud in hand.

“Mhm,” you hummed, eyeing Eren’s hands as they set quickly to work. His grinder sat on the bed behind him, and after picking out a few clusters of green from the jar, he reached behind him and popped the top off, going through the motions of getting prepped for the smoke session. “What’d you do today?”

Eren shot you a dumb founded look, “It’s 4/20, what do you think I’ve been doing all day?”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up in surrender, “Just making a joke, asshole.”

He chuckled, extending his hand out so you could pass him your bowl, packing it not long after. Eren looked around his mattress for a lighter, eyebrows drawn together as he couldn’t find one. You smirked then, extending the black lighter you had packed in your bag, and Eren smiled gratefully. He flicked the lighter once it was in his possession, pointer finger resting over the choke as he placed the pipe to his lips, inhaling deeply as the fresh green turned to ash. He lifted his long finger off the choke hole, removing the pipe as he held the smoke in for a few seconds, eyes instantly glazing as he exhaled.

Eren was one of those smokers that the second he had a hit of weed, it was written all over his face that he was high, even if he wasn’t. When Eren picked up the habit in highschool, his parents knew instantly what the boy had been doing during his “study sessions” with his friends. Now that he was an adult and moved out of his childhood home, Eren was pretty free in his indulgences, no longer carrying around eye drops to try and help him appear as innocent as possible.

After his second hit, Eren passed you back your bowl and lighter, coughing lightly as he exhaled, “What about you? What’d you do today?”

“Not much, spent all day watching documentaries and smoking my vape,” you laughed lightly, positioning the pipe to your own lips.

Eren’s eyes drank in the sight of your pretty plump lips as they wrapped around the tip of the pipe, fingers copying his as you bent your finger over the choke. The lighter ignited after a single flick, warm colored flames illuminating your face. It was like Eren was watching you in slow motion, but it was always like that with you, even when he wasn’t high. He could see the fire in your eyes as they focused downwards to your actions, and Eren felt his mouth go dry. You pulled the bowl away, making eye contact with him as the smoke exited your lips, licking your face as it traveled towards the ceiling on your exhale.

The two of you made small talk as you passed the bowl back and forth, Eren making a face once the bud was dead. He packed another bowl, repeating the rotation until that one was dead. The two of you thoroughly fried, he put the pipe on his bedside table and leaned his back against the wall by his bed. You mirrored him, resting your head on his broad shoulder as the two of you enjoyed each other’s company.

“We should make edibles this weekend,” you suggested, fingers playing with the drawstring of your hoodie. “Maybe invite the group over and get zooted and play a game or something.”

“Zooted?” Eren snorted. “I haven’t heard that word in years, grandma.”

You shot Eren a glare, which he began to laugh at, “I’m hip, okay? Zooted is making a comeback.”

“Stop trying to fit in with the youth, Myrtle,” he teased, wrapping his arm around your waist to tuck you into his side. “Man, if I was only 50 years older.”

You lightly elbowed his side, “You wish you could bag 70 year old me. I’m a fucking catch.”

“I wish I could bag you period,” Eren confessed, probably for the hundredth time of you knowing him. “How come you’ve never let me take you out?”

“Because, you’d just fuck and dump me and then I wouldn’t have a plug anymore,” you pouted, purposefully snuggling in closer.

“Is that what you really think?” he asked seriously, positioning his neck to the side so he could look down at you.

You looked up, centimeters apart from his face, “That’s what you did with all the other girls.”

“But you’re my best friend,” Eren frowned, taking his hand and pushing your hair behind your ear. “I wouldn't do that to you.”

“Don’t know if I wanna’ really find that out,” you smiled sadly.

“C’mon, let me prove it to you,” Eren licked his lips. “Fuck me, right now, and I’ll take you out tomorrow.”

You felt a pulse in your pussy suddenly, gulping spit down as you broke the eye contact, “I don’t know ‘Ren. We’ve been friends since highschool, what if it makes things weird?”

“You can’t look me in the eyes right now and tell me that you’ve never thought about it, about us,” his voice was a hare above a whisper. “Because I think about it all the time. ‘Is why I hit you up all the time, I like you stupid, I always have.”

This confession was so different from all the other ones. Eren was practically begging to let him in between your legs on a weekly basis, ever since you had met him. Never once had he been this honest though, so genuine sounding about his feelings. He had a point as well, you thought about being with him all the time. You were always at his house or going out somewhere together, you spent all your free time with him, of course you would have feelings for Eren.

“If,” you started, your eyes blinking rapidly as you returned your gaze to his red ones. “I say yes, and things are weird after, we’re going to pretend like this never happened and we go back to being friends.”

“Deal.”

Eren’s lips crashed into your’s, any and all hesitation rolling off your body as you eagerly returned his kiss. His other arm circled you, bringing you in somehow even closer to him as your hands grabbed both of his cheeks, feeling the flex of his jaw as you smashed your lips together. Eren’s hand traveled under the hem of your sweatshirt to the small of your back, guiding you to sit in his lap. Legs on either side of his hips, your tongues slipped through the both of your lips, meeting in the middle.

Maybe it was the high, maybe it was Eren, but the throbbing in your cunt only expanded as Eren smoothed his hands all over the middle of your torso. They traveled up to the swell of your breasts, free from a bra, cupping both tits in his large hands. His thumbs slid and teased your nipples, hardening instantly under his touch. You arched your back, pushing your chest into his palms even more, your hips flicking as he tweaked your nipples between his fingers.

You both moaned into each other’s mouths at the roll of your hips, feeling Eren’s dick harden fast underneath your clothed center. Eren had been wearing a pair of thin grey sweatpants, leaving not much to the imagination while he was in this state. You felt his lips scrape against your bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth and sucking gently. He released it, a string of saliva linking to the two of you together.

“I’ve been imagining this for forever,” Eren’s eyes were glazed and deep red when you met his gaze. “I just never thought this would happen.”

“I’ve been wanting you too,” you admitted, your dirty little secret exposed.

He smirked at your confession, hands still toying with your breasts. Silencing you once more with his passionate kiss, he moved his hands downwards and to your back until he met the waistband of your shorts. He easily slid under the hem, gripping your ass in his palms, kneading and spreading you apart. You felt your pussy flutter, the indirect contact sending you into a deep pit of arousal, your senses heightened greatly.

It was like Eren could read your mind, and his fingers traveled to your spread cunt over his lap, running a finger over your slit over your panties. You whined, pressing your hips down to achieve a greater pressure from his hand, in turn allowing your wetness to seep through the cotton of your panties. Eren chuckled against your lips, reading your body language loud and clear. He pushed the fabric aside, allowing his knuckles to brush directly into your folds. You moaned into his mouth as he spread your arousal around your vulva. When his thumb bumped against your clit, you felt your patience snap entirely.

“‘Ren, need your fingers, now,” you panted, eyes half lidded as his kiss traveled to the underside of your jaw.

“You got it, baby girl,” he hummed into your skin. There was no resistance as he pushed his middle finger into your opening. “Fuck, you’re fucking soaked. This all for me?”

You couldn’t find your voice, nodding and whining out as he pumped his single digit into your pussy. His touch was slow, deliberate, trying to memorize every single ridge and flutter of your walls as you pulsed around him. Eren’s mouth was dry, dick hard and throbbing, completely lost in the feeling of you sucking his finger in deeper. He couldn’t comprehend the fact that his cock would be replacing his fingers soon, finally fucking you like he had imagined for years now.

His middle finger dared to pull out, and you let out a desperate whine, thinking that was his plan. You gasped in relief and pleasure as his ring finger pushed past your entrance, clenching tightly on his fingers. Eren found solace in this, perceiving your flutters as permission to go finger fuck you at an ungodly pace. He positioned his wrist as a more comfortable angle, and his fingers pumped inside of you at the speed of light.

Your eyebrows came together, mouth hanging open as you squeaked and whined, Eren’s other hand finding purchase on your jaw. He squeezed your cheeks together lightly, forcing your lips to pout as he maintained direct eye contact with you. His own lips hung open, and you could see your reflection in his blown out pupils. It only enticed you more, you looked heavenly. Eren couldn’t have worded it before himself if you had verbalized this, whole heartedly agreeing with you.

“You’re so tight,” Eren groaned out, his hand leaving your chin and slipping two fingers in between your lips. “Suck, baby.”

You did as you were told, Eren’s fingers slowing to fuck up into roughly, hitting your sweet spot over and over. Your tongue circled around his knuckles, lips vibrating on his fingers as your moans were silenced. Eren was thoroughly enjoying himself, seeing you completely under his control like this. You were putty in the palm of his hands, literally.

He slid his fingers out of your cunt so suddenly, feeling the gush of your arousal against your inner thighs as his hand left your shorts. His other hand fell out of your mouth, moving back to your jaw as you felt the wetness of your spit spread across your face. Eren brought the hand he was fucking you with to his own mouth, and you were practically drooling at the sight of him sucking your pussy juices off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he cooed after he pulled them from his lips. “Just like I always imagined.”

You took this as your opportunity to remove some of your clothing. You tugged your hoodie over your head, tossing it on the floor. Eren followed suit, removing his own white t-shirt and reattaching his lips to yours. You tasted hints of yourself, not at all repulsed, in fact the exact opposite. You tasted sweet, tart but sweet.

You pushed yourself away from Eren, scooting off his lap in order to tear off your shorts and panties. Eren mirrored you, almost ripping his pants and boxers off as he slid them past his thighs and ankles to the floor. He remained in his seated position, eyes swirling and fingers twitching at his sides as he watched your crawl back to him. You placed a sloppy kiss to his lips before turning your body around, placing your feet on the mattress on either side of his lap. Sat in a full crouch now, you grabbed Eren’s cock, pumping him a few times with both of your hands in a screw motion. He moaned from behind you, his own hands gripping your ass cheeks to support your frame.

You guided Eren to your hovering pussy, teasing your clit, soaking him in your dripping heat. He cursed underneath you, his right hand moving to your hip as you lowered yourself on his length. Eren groaned loudly as the feelings of satisfaction and relief flowed through his body, his own heightened senses taking over. You moved to rest on your knees when you felt Eren bottom out inside of you, a string of moans and whimpers leaving your lips. You arched your back and Eren leaned back more, eyes stationed on your beautiful round ass.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he ran a hand up to the back of your head, untangling your messy bun so your hair fell free down your back. “C’mon baby, bounce on my dick.”

You lifted your hips, slamming down to his pelvis urgently. It was so overwhelming, the feeling of his cock filling you to the brim making your brain empty. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open dumbly as drool coated the swell of your lips. You bounced again, and Eren yanked your hair back as he watched your pussy stretch around him, close to snapping and drilling into you as he saw the creamy ring form around his base. You were a moaning mess, unable to think clearly as your body took over. Pushing all your weight into your knees and palms resting on Eren’s thighs, you fastened your pace, ass bouncing every time Eren’s fat tip brushed up against your cervix.

You felt the sharp sting on your cheek and heard the resounding slap of his hand on your right cheek, tears springing to your eyes, “Fuck, Eren, you feel so good.”

Taking your hips into his strong hands, Eren was finally at his brink as he thrusted hard up into. You yelped, letting yourself go limp as he slammed into your cunt at a dangerous pace. He was in full control now, fucking you into a stupor.

Your hand left it’s home of his thigh, traveling to your aching center to rub your clit. Eren’s position was perfect, rubbing the underside of his shaft against your g-spot. When you opened your eyes, you could see his toes curling, legs flexing and twitching. He wasn’t going to last long, your pussy putting him under a spell. You circled your clit with your pointer and middle fingers, throat raw from all the noises escaping you. All you felt was Eren, all you could hear was Eren, he was filling your entire being up, replacing any and all thoughts they may have lingered in your brain.

“Gonna’ cum,” you whined, fingers moving even faster.

“I’m so fucking close, fucking cum baby,” Eren growled, thrusts desperate and becoming irregular.

You stilled above him, a breathless scream heaving from your throat as you gushed around him. Your pussy clenched so tight, and Eren couldn’t hold back. Because as empty as your brain was, Eren was in the exact same state as he shot his thick load into you, filling your tight cunt up with his cum. You milked his cock, walls convulsing in your mind blowing orgasm. Black spots appeared in your vision when you realized you had forgotten to breathe, you took a deep gasp of air.

You were a panting, sweaty mess hovering over him. Eren was in awe, watching beads of his white seed leak out of your center. He’d worry about the consequences when his brain could comprehend what had just happened, but for now, the deep primal urge of filling you up was sedated. Eren didn’t think he could’ve imagined fucking you for the first time any better than this. And when you finally lifted your hips to release him, he felt a wave of sadness, your beautiful pussy no longer surrounding him.

“Did you, oh my God, Eren,” you lifted your hand in front of you, seeing the creamy white of his cum smeared on your fingers. “You came inside of me?”

“Sorry, baby,” he caught his breath as you turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him. “I’ll buy you Plan B in the morning, promise.”

“I’m on the pill, but still,” you huffed, letting the anger leave you as you realized Eren would take responsibility. “You didn’t know that.”

Eren laughed without humor, “Oh well, at least I know for next time. Now c’mere, wanna’ hold you while I roll a blunt.”

LACHERI © 2021: all writing content belongs to LACHERI. I do not allow reposts or translations. this is my only account.

[mountswhore]

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 — mason mount

summary: after an argument ensues between the two of you, you’d decided to go for a drive. only for it to end worse than expected for the both of you.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of a car accident, mentions of blood and cuts

notes: requests are open

“I’m not ready to lose you.” + “Wake up! Please don’t do this to me.”

“Maybe you aren’t understanding,” you sighed, tired of the argument you and Mason were currently having, “I live with you, for fuck’s sake. I see you every night and every morning, so on my only day off, I want to see my family. We visit your family all the time, what about mine?”

Mason was tugging at his hair in stress, trying his hardest to keep his cool. It started when you’d gotten home late, after a nice day out with your mum and sisters, Mason sitting on the couch in complete silence. His argument was that you barely spent time together, especially since your careers kept you busy all the time. Your argument was that you see him during the day, whereas you don’t even speak to your parents for more than a minute on the phone. You understood his argument completely, you wanted to spend time with him, but he was dismissing your argument entirely.

“I rarely get time to spend with you, so when I actually get home from training early, you’re out all day with not even a note to tell me you’d gone.” Mason whined, following you into the kitchen as you left the living room. You both hated arguments, especially shouting, it wasn’t you at all. And usually your arguments were solved with just quiet talking, and a compromise. But tonight was something else.

“I don’t get that much time off.” You stated, making yourself comfortable on the island stool. You’d hoped Mason would just drop it, or at least see where you’re coming from. “If I knew you’d be finishing early, I would have offered you to come with me. But I didn’t know, Mase. I’m tired of this now.”

“You don’t think I’m tired of this?” Mason’s voice was gradually getting louder, and you squeezed your hands together to keep calm. “I’m tired of only seeing you when you’re sleeping, or half asleep as you walk through the door. I just want you, Y/N. We don’t even have sex anymore.”

“It’s not about sex, Mason. Not to me, anyway.” He was pulling every string and managed to get on every single one of your nerves, it was almost as if he were waiting for you to snap at him.

“Don’t try and spin this, I never said it was about sex. It’s just one of the many things we used to do, and don’t do anymore.” He’d shouted at you, his tone making it out to be your fault. You were the reason you didn’t have sex anymore, you were the reason you barely see each other any more.

“You can’t even have sex leading up to a match,” you reminded him, stopping at the stairs as you pulled your shoes back on. They’d only been off for twenty minutes, your bag still on your shoulder. “God, I’ve met rocks smarter than you,” you mumbled, reaching for the door handle.

“Oh, fuck off Y/N. Why don’t you go and sleep at your family’s house if you want to see them so much?” He shouted back at you, walking to the kitchen and away from you. You’d made a habit of slamming the door after you, stomping over to your car and starting it up. Another thing you’d always done during your arguments, was wait until you were away from Mason to cry.

You’d left the driveway, tears falling from your eyes as you left Mason in your house alone. He was sat against the kitchen island in defeat, head in his hands and beginning to regret saying what he said. He didn’t want you to go to your family’s home and sleep there, he wanted you in his bed. Close to him. That’s all he wanted.

You’d taken a hand from the wheel to wipe the tears from your eyes, no doubt ruining your makeup in the process, and as another had fallen, you squeezed your eyes to push them all out. In the split second your eyes were closed, you’d heard a large horn and felt your body jolt to the side, hitting your head on your window. All you could manage to do was grab your phone and see a bunch of texts, vision blurred so you couldn’t see who they were from.

Whoever it was, you’d texted: ‘hel p.’ Before letting the darkness, that was pushing your eyelids down, consume you.

Mason had received your text and almost threw up with worry. He clenched his teeth tightly together as he threw on his shoes, running out to his car and taking the route you always took to your parents. He knew you avoided motorways whenever you could, and he finally saw your car, both sides battered completely. He could barely breathe as he leapt out of his car, leaving the door wide open and going to check on you.

Your head was rested against the cracked window, he could see small shards impaling the skin of your face. His eyes were bleeding tears at this point, yanking on the doors but they wouldn’t open. Finally, your door had been forced open by his hands and he held you tight. He could feel your breath on his arm, so he knew not to assume the worst. His tears were landing on your hair, creating a small wet patch on your hairline.

“Wake up, please don’t do this to me.” He whimpered, holding you tighter to his chest as if it were doing something, “I’m not ready to lose you.” Your body felt limp, lifeless even, it was a feeling he never wanted to feel again. His chest ached with the sobs leaving him, wanting to curl up with you in bed. With you alive and well.

Finally, after holding you close to him, he’d called an ambulance. His voice shaking as he named the road and gave them your details. If he’d just listened to you, you wouldn’t be here right now, completely knocked out and in pain. He’d taken you from the car and carried you in his arms to his own. The sirens were rapidly approaching, his tears still falling from his eyes when they took you. He didn’t want to leave you, but he’d followed the ambulance to the hospital.

For hours he waited, eyes hopeful as a doctor left your room, but they’d walked the opposite way. The last he’d heard was that you were being taken into surgery, to remove the glass shards and stitch up the wounds on your head. He was advised to go home, grab you a change of clothes and get some sleep. But he refused. He wasn’t leaving this hospital until you were out with him. He wasn’t leaving until you knew how sorry he was for what he’d done.

He wept into his hands silently in the corner of the waiting room, lifting his hood up to avoid anyone who might know who he was. He’d contacted your family, telling them you’d been in an accident and that you were awaiting surgery. Of course they’d told Mason to keep them updated, wishing him and you well. He was shaking the entirety of the time he waited for you, finally a nurse coming up to him as he’d closed his eyes for a short while. It was almost 11 now, forgetting you’d gotten home late that night.

“She’s out of surgery,” the nurse confirmed, Mason’s heart beating faster for you, “she’s being transferred to a private room, and you’ll be able to see her there. We will have to keep her overnight, and we don’t allow visitors during the night. But visiting hours open at 6 tomorrow morning. Mason just nodded, he’d do whatever to see you again.

After an hour of waiting, he was finally allowed into your room. You were still groggy but upon seeing Mason’s face, all was forgotten. Grateful was an understatement, you’d been lucky enough to see Mason again. He sat down beside you, hand slipping through the wires and into your own, squeezing it gently.

“Hello, bubs.” He whispered, afraid of his voice breaking from the tears that had started back up again. You smiled weakly at him, biting you lip to contain your smile. “How you feeling?”

“Like death, if I’m honest.”

“You still look gorgeous even after being in a car wreck.” Mason admitted, brushing the hairs away from your eyes. The tiny cuts and stitches were dotted around your face, but your eyes still gleamed hopefully. Like they did when you first met.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore, “I’m sorry.” You cried, trying to turn away from Mason but it hurt to do so. Your whole body ached from being slammed into so hard.

“There’s not a thing to be sorry for, bubs.” Mason assured you, the pads of his thumbs wiping your tears away, “forget about the argument. Spend as much time as you want with your family, I don’t care. I’m just glad to still have you.”

“I should spend more time with you,” you mumbled into his hand, kissing his palm softly, “I’m sorry for not being around much. We need to make time for each other.” Mason just nodded, so full of joy to have you back with him.

[jake-kiszkas-smirk]

Here Comes the Sun (part 11)

Danny Wagner X fem OC X Josh Kiszka

18+ only, minors DNI

Warnings: Unprotected sex, fingering, breath play if you squint. I think thats it!

Josh's POV

I rolled over in bed, reaching my arm out for Rose, only to find her not there. I glanced up to see her, in panties and a tshirt, standing on her tip toes, leaning over my dresser as she inspected something on her chin. I kept my eyes on her, taking in the glorious sight of her curvy hips and perfect ass. When my eyes finally made it to hers in the reflection she was staring at me with a smirk.

"Enjoying the view Kiszka?" She said in a flirtatious tone as she turned around, crossing her arms

"Always, what are you doing over there anyways? Get back over here" I said as I held out my arms for her.

"I think I'm getting a pimple on my chin," She pouted as she climbed back onto the bed, straddling my lap

"Let me see," I said, guiding her face closer to me with my hand behind her neck. I squinted dramatically as I pretended to inspect it, "I don't see anything, you look just as cute as ever." I said, now pulling her into a kiss. The corners of her mouth turned up between kisses as she smiled. I pulled her closer, my hands traveling to her ass as I deepened the kiss. I pulled Rose's shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor, I was reaching for her breast when I heard the doorknob turn. I quickly flipped us, luckily tangling us in the sheets enough that Rose's mostly naked body was hidden,

"Afternoon Josh, Rose." Jake said as he strolled in,

"Jake what the hell do you want," I hissed at him, Rose giggling beneath me-making it hard for me to keep a straight face with Jake.

"First, stop taking my weed." He said as he walked over to my window and took the joint off the windowsill, "Second, today is the fall festival we were going to go hand out flyers at for our next show. So get up, it's already past noon." He walked out and shut the door. I collapsed down onto Rose, my face in the crook of her neck as she continued to laugh,

"That was a close one," She said as she wrapped her arms around me, nails gently scratching at my scalp. I took a deep breath, just wanting to stay in bed with her like this, forever.

"It was, I guess I should get up." I groaned as I pecked a kiss on her lips. Climbing off the bed I grabbed her shirt off the ground and handed it to her. She slipped it over her head as I looked for a pair of shorts for her to wear, seeing as she only had her costume from the night prior. "We can stop by your apartment on the way, if you want to come I mean." I added, realizing I had just assumed she wanted to spend the day with me.

"I'd love to come, yeah if we could stop by so I could change that would be great." She said, sitting on the bed, watching as I got dressed. After I got dressed we both went into the living room to find Jake waiting impatiently by the door.

"Maybe knock next time?" I said as I slipped on my shoes, still annoyed at his invasion

"Maybe lock the door next time," He said back flatly. Rose just watched the whole interaction, carrying her heels in her hand as she walked out the door.

"Who's car are we taking?" She asked as she walked down the driveway,

"We can take mine," Jake replied as he followed behind her

"Is it ok if we stop by my place, it's on the way to the festival anyways"

"Sure, but we need to hurry." He said as he started the car. We all got in and headed to her apartment. Jake stayed in the car but I went inside with Rose.

"Am I witnessing a walk of shame right now?" Lucas said with a smirk as we walked through the living room. I laughed when Rose flipped him off as she continued to her room. "What are you two up to this fine friday?"

"We are going to the fall festival in the park downtown," I said as I leaned against the wall. "We have a show tomorrow night and we are handing out flyers. You coming with Rose?"

"I am about to leave for the weekend with my boyfriend, otherwise I would have come," He said as he stood up,

"Did I just hear you say you're leaving for the whole weekend? Where are you two going?" Rose asked as she walked around the corner. She was wearing a black and white fitted long sleeve shirt with a black t-shirt over it, loosely tucked into her high waisted light wash jeans.

"I am just going to stay at his for a while, no big deal." Lucas shrugged

"Alright, well I love you and I'll see you around" She said as she hugged him. "We should probably hurry before Jake comes in and yells at us again" She giggled as she took my hand and led us back to Jakes car. I sat in the back seat with Rose and most of the ride was quiet as we listened to the music. At one point her phone went off and she smiled at the screen before sending a text. I knew it was probably Danny, I felt jealousy raising in me as I tried not to think about it. We got to the festival and Jake pulled a giant stack of flyers from the passenger seat. He split the pile and handed half to Rose and I and he took the other half.

"Lets split up so we cover more ground" Jake said, serious as ever when it came to band stuff. I took Rose's hand and we went one way while Jake went the other. We walked past the vendors and small carnival rides for kids, handing out flyers and having short conversations about the band with people here and there.

"Are you hungry sweetheart?" I asked as I pulled her close to me, the flyers almost gone.

"I am kind of," She said sheepishly,

"Lets go find something to eat," I said as we walked back past the vendors. We ended up getting a massive smoked turkey leg and sharing it. After eating we walked back past the vendors and I saw a face painting station. "Lets get our faces painted!"

"Josh," she giggled as I drug her over, "Thats for kids,"

"Oh come on, its fun. Just something small on our cheeks or something " I said with my best puppy dog eyes,

"Fineee" She said with a grin and a roll of her eyes. I smiled as I pecked a kiss on her cheek, thanking her for letting me get my way. There were two artists working so Rose and I sat back to back and picked our designs.

"What are you getting?" I asked as they began painting.

"A moon and star," She replied, "What about you?"

"It's a surprise" I said, trying not to grin and mess up the artist

"Oh gosh, alright" She said, and I could tell by the way she sounded she was trying not to laugh as well. I paid the painters and then walked over to where Rose was waiting since hers had got finished first. I tried to contain my smile as I walked over, covering my art so she couldn't see until I was close to her. She grabbed my hand and moved it so she could see,

"A rose! You are so cheesy" she said as she looked at it, I leaned in and kissed her,

"It's the second favorite Rose I've had on my face" I whispered in her ear cheekily.

"Joshua!" She said as she playfully smacked my chest, both of us laughing. Suddenly out of nowhere she was squealing as someone threw her over their shoulder. I quickly assessed the situation and saw that she was smiling when she realized who this was. I was genuinely curious as to who this person was. He was at least 6'3 and his muscley figure was covered in tattoos.

"Thorne!" She said excitedly as he put her down. Her brother? Of course I'd meet him for the first time with a flower painted on my face. "What are you doing here?!" She wrapped him in a hug, her head barely coming up to his chest.

"I was in town for the weekend for work and Lucas told me you were here." He said as he tousled her hair with his hand like big brothers do. "I was hoping I can stay at your place"

"Of course you can!" She said before turning to me, "Thorne this is Josh"

"Nice to meet you," I said putting my hand out. He reached out and shook my hand with a strong grip that almost hurt, his face getting serious as he looked me over.

"Thorne." He introduced himself flatly, "Are you always this..."

"Adorable? Yes." I said back quickly,

"It's true.. he is" Rose said with a laugh as she took my hand and leaned her head on my shoulder,

"I was going to say ridiculous" Thorne said motioning to the face paint

"That too," Rose said grinning, I gasped and feigned being hurt but she just laughed, "but I love that about him" she added, and I felt my heart melt. We started walking and Rose had a hold on my arm, Thorne on her other side, towering over both of us. I laughed softly at how short she was compared to him even though they were related.

"So, Josh was it? What's this?" he said, taking a leftover flyer from my hand,

"It's a flyer for our show tomorrow, I am in a band" I said confidently,

"They are really good," Rose said, gripping my arm a little tighter, giving me a reassuring smile

"You're in a band. Is that what you plan to do with your life?" Thorne questioned condescendingly,

"Thorne leave him alone." Rose hissed as she glared at him, I stayed quiet. We walked a while longer and I was silent as Rose and him spoke. I finally felt uncomfortable enough that I decided to leave. Thorne had wondered a few feet away to look at a vendor and I took my chance to tell Rose bye,

"Hey, I think Jake should be ready to go by now. I think I'm going to head out with him, we have practice soon anyways." I said as I took both of her hands

"Don't let him get to you ok?" She said softly, referring to Thorne

"I'm not" I lied, forcing a smile "I'll see you at the show tomorrow night" I kissed her quickly before heading off to find Jake. I felt defeated, I wanted nothing more than for her family to like me, and her brother already hated me.

Danny's POV

-I'd really love to see you today, are you busy?

Rose-I am actually on the way to the fall festival right now, but I should be free tonight if you want to come over?

-Movie night?

Rose- sounds perfect,

-I will come over after practice, I'll bring snacks.

Rose- looking forward to it <3 If you want you can just stay over, Lucas is gone for the weekend and then we can just go to the show together.

I smiled as I re-read the texts from earlier in the day. If I was going to stay the night with Rose I needed to pick out my outfit for the show today and take it with me. I looked through my closet picking out what I thought would work well with the rest of the guys' outfits. I put the clothes in my backpack. I walked into the living room to find Sam waiting on me to leave for practice.

"Hey after practice can you just drop me off at Rose's house?" I asked as we got out to the car, "I'm going to stay over there tonight"

"Fine by me," he shrugged. We got to practice and everything went smoothly. We were packing up to leave and I spoke to Sam,

"Hey, can we stop by the gas station on the way to Rose's, I need to get snacks"

"Yeah I want more snacks for home anyways." Sam replied,

"Her brother is in town, and fair warning..hes a prick. No pun intended" Josh said as he sat on the couch. Josh had met her brother? Would I get to meet him? It sounded like it didn't go well when Josh met him, so I was a little nervous. I hopped into the car with Sam and headed to the gas station. I got some popcorn and Rose's favorite candy.

-I'm on my way to your place now

Rose-I'm about to hop into the shower, so you can just come in when you get here.

-will do

I grinned at her being comfortable enough to let me just walk into her apartment. Sammy dropped me off and I took my backpack and the snacks and headed inside. The lights in the living room were off, so I just headed to the bathroom. The door was open but her bedroom door was closed telling me she was in there. I gently knocked on the door, no answer. I opened the door slowly, and a giant smile spread on my face when I saw Rose dancing on her bed, headphones in, wrapped in a towel. Her wet hair was flying around as she danced. She turned around and jumped when she saw me. A soon as she realized it was me, she pulled her headphones out and tossed her phone to the bed.

"Hey" She walked over to the edge of the bed and I walked towards her. She was taller than me at this point, tilting my chin up to kiss her.

"Hey" I said, already in a daze, running my hands along her thighs. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders as we kissed. I stepped back slightly and she hopped down, wrapping her legs around my waist. Her towel was still wrapped around her top, but had opened where she wrapped her legs around me.

"Shut the door" She said between kisses,

"Aren't we alone?" I asked,

"No, Thorne is next door" She said, I promptly dropped her, glad she landed on her feet. I quickly shut the door.

"I don't know if we should do anything with your brother next door sleeping, I don't think you can be quiet enough for that." I smirked over at her as I turned the lock

"Oh come on," She whined as she dropped her towel, a pout on her face. "Please..." I walked closer and let my fingers brush down her sides before landing on her hips. I leaned down to kiss her, pulling her against me, she moaned slightly as my hands traveled to her ass,

"See..." I said as I pulled away with a smile,

"Sorry, I promise. I promise I'll be quiet." She begged at a whisper, her hands traveling under my shirt, scratching my chest lightly before pulling my shirt over my head. A groan threatened to leave my throat but I contained it, walking her backwards until her knees hit the bed. I grabbed her hips and tossed her further up the bed. She stifled a squeal as she landed, bouncing on the mattress. She laid back against the bed and her lust filled eyes raked over me. I decided then, after seeing the eagerness on her face that I wanted to tease her a little.

I started at her ankle, then her calf, knee, hip, brushing my lips against her skin and planting warm open-mouthed kisses. Her hips bucked up slightly when I kissed her hip. I kissed it again and sucked harder this time, leaving a little purple mark. She writhed underneath me as I did, "Did you like that?" I whispered, moving up to her stomach and repeating the process as she nodded frantically.

I moved up to her breast and decided to add a little more, so I nipped at the flesh and her hips once again bucked up into mine.

"Pleasee" She whispered, taking my hand and leading it down to her clit. I obliged and started rubbing circles as I peppered kisses over her shoulders and neck. She bit her bottom lip hard, trying to contain her moans and whimpers.

I loved watching her come undone for me, a simple touch and she'd crumble. The feeling was mutual, I knew full well she had the same effect on me. I ran my fingers through her slick before slowing sliding in two fingers. She was already so wet, and I nearly lost it when she started grinding her hips onto my fingers, basically fucking herself using my hand.

"Are you ready for me?" I asked quietly in her ear before kissing that sensitive spot behind it.

"Yes, take off your pants," She whispered as she sat up, her face flushed, her damp hair draping down her shoulders and over her chest. I stood up and stripped out of my pants and boxers. I was already impossibly hard as she stared up at me.

I climbed back on the bed and started to hover over her again, but she placed her hand on my chest, pushing me and motioning for me to lay down next to her. She knelt next to me on the bed and took my cock into her hand, pumping it a few times before she straddled my lap, facing away from me. I took in a sharp breath as she started grinding against me. I grabbed her hips guiding them back and forth a few times before she raised herself, taking my length and lining it up with her entrance. I kept my grip on her hips and steadied her as she slowly lowered herself on to me. My chest rumbled as I was once again fighting to stay quiet.

Her head fell back and she let out a soft moan as she lowered herself completely. I brushed her hair over her left shoulder as I sat up and made my chest flush with her back. She moaned again at the new angle and I quickly put my hand over her mouth, the other over her clit.

"Shh you have to be quiet angel," I reminded her as she nodded, her hands wrapping around each of my wrists, "Do you remember your taps?" She nodded again. I kept my hands in their places, rubbing her clit and covering her mouth as she started to move up and down, her head falling back again.

I could feel her getting tighter around me and feel her ragged breaths against my hand and I knew she was close. A few more flicks of my fingers and her legs were trembling as she came around me. After working her through it I paused for a moment and she fell back against me, her head on my shoulder. I kissed at her shoulder and neck as she caught her breath,

"Danny, I..I want you to cum inside me" She said shyly, slowly starting to move up and down again. I froze, completely surprised by the request, my skin somehow getting even hotter.

"Are you sure?" I asked, running my hands through her hair,

"Yes, I'm sure. Please, I want it." The neediness and vulnerableness of her voice flipped a switch in me. I held her tightly, flipping us so that she was belly down on the bed. I grabbed a pillow and placed it under her hips, never removing myself from inside her.

I placed one hand next to her face, placing her hand around it, in case she needed to tap out. The other I slid down her spine before getting a grip on her ass as I started thrusting into her harder than I had before. Her mouth fell open briefly before her eyes rolled back and she bit her bottom lip.

"Shhhh baby, I know" I continued my pace, already close because of her request echoing over and over in my brain. Her grip on my wrist got tighter as I bottomed out, clenching my jaw in a desperate attempt to not make any noise as I came.

I carefully collapsed down onto her, moving her hair from her face and placing a soft kiss on her cheek as I caught my breath. Once we had both collected ourselves I rolled off of her. I glanced over to her, she looked at me in a daze with a soft smile on her face. I pulled her closer to me, spooning her and holding her tightly.

"You are so perfect." I said as I nuzzled my face into her neck, "Do you know how hard it was for me to stay quiet?"

"So are you" She said, reaching up and tangling her hand in my hair with a breathy giggle. I felt my cheeks blush and my heart swell. "And yes, I do know how hard it is to stay quiet" I closed my eyes for a while and just soaked up the moment.

"Do we need to go to the pharmacy or anything?" I asked softly,

"No," She replied after a snorted laugh, "I'm on birth control"

"I was just making sure" I said, tickling her side. She grabbed my hands to stop my antics,

"I know, it is sweet that you asked." she said flipping to face me, kissing the tip of my nose. "Did I see skittles in that bag" She said, motioning to the chair causing me to smile.

"You did," I replied, "Would you like some?" I asked teasingly,

"Yes pleasee" She said sweetly, scrunching her nose. I stood up and slid on my boxers. "Do you need anything else while I'm up?"

"Hmm, the remote, and maybe your shirt." She said with a grin, I knew she loved wearing my clothes to sleep in. I tossed her my shirt before grabbing the remote and snacks. She slipped it over her head as I climbed back into her bed, pulling the covers over us. She shifted to where she was cuddled up next to me. We picked a movie and ate our snacks before we eventually fell asleep.