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thecapricunt1616 · 7 months ago

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Very First Time (c.b. one-shot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “It’s you who wants to kiss me. I told you I’m a better kisser then you, so, if you don’t believe me why don’t you come find out.” He mused and went right back to reading. You sat there for a few moments, dumbfounded. You had a crush on Carmy, but it was only founded when you weren’t together - well, that was a lie, you still thought about kissing him while you were with him but would scold yourself for it that it was weird because he’s your best friend and it’s wrong to think of him that way.

♡ Chapter Inspo: So High School - Taylor Swift ; "You know what you wanted & boy you got her" ♡ Summary: Based on ✩This✩ big brained ask from @carmenberzattosgf ♡ W/C: 9.4K ♡ Posted Date: 06/11/2024 ♡ A/N: Omg I had so much fucking fun writing this you have no idea!!! I hope this satisfies your virgin carmy tooth my dirty olive martini! Also, New look for this one shot how are we feeling yall? ♡ Warnings for BTC: SMUT SMUT SMUT, Characters are 18+, High school relationship, childhood best friend trope, virgin!carmy, Fem!/AFAB!Reader, R has long hair, No use of Y/N (r goes by childhood nickname 'squish'

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

2010

You had thought about this year at least monthly since … well - kindergarten. This was your year.

Graduation year.

4 decent years of high school were coming to a close. You were freshly 18 as of last week, and felt exactly the same. You actually felt worse now that your birthday had passed you by. Why? Oh. Virginity. Still having one, that thing.

As far as you knew, all of your friends had lost theirs by now, well - you weren’t so sure. You’d think asking your longest time friend if they were also holding onto their precious dire to get rid of virginity cards as well would be easy, right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

This was because your bestest longest term friend? You’d been concealing a massive crush on him since sophomore year. Well, actually - technically 7th grade, when he saved your volcano from prematurely erupting by pouring borax in the hole from his project about borax crystallization after the nastiest girl in the grade dumped the cup of vinegar in it while you weren’t looking so it would explode prematurely while the teacher wasn’t watching and you’d get zero credit.

But, you told yourself that he was just a really nice person like his sister who had babysat you a few times, so he’d probably heard about you from her and was simply being friendly. Nevertheless, the interaction made you fast friends.

What sealed the deal to you being so close, though, was when a few days later one of the mean boys in the grade tried to make Carmy his newest victim by continually throwing pencils at the back of his head. He did this every class to someone new, and always while the teacher wasn’t looking.

You had waited just until half a second before the pencil flew and “Mrs.Harrison!” urgently left your lips, she quickly looked up, just in time to see the moron let the pencil go, it hit the back of Carmys head, and for Carmy send him a silent glare.

“Jared! That’s a week of detention. It has been you with those pencils. I’m calling home too- this disruptive behavior is unacceptable!” She was so focused on writing out detention slips that she didn’t even remember you had grabbed her attention. Carmy gave you one of his shy close-mouthed smiles that made his adorable dimples show before going back to drawing some pair of cargo jean looking things on the inside of his notebook cover.

This sealed your friendship because you had shown him your loyalty. You have my back, I have yours was always the mentality between you two. By the time you got to high school, you and Carmy were attached at the hip. In middle school, specifically in eighth grade, people would tease you two that you were dating.

The both of you were late bloomers and hadn’t even thought about Carmy or anyone in that way yet, but by sophomore year of high school the teasing really hit home because you did have a crush on him but thought you were absolutely sure he could never like you back, that he saw you as a sister.

Until one fateful June afternoon.

You were laid on your full sized bed together in your childhood bedroom, flicking through a J-14 magazine to get all the latest gossip on the celebrities you follow when you settle on the Ask Sabrina page, a forum where a girl answers dating and love questions.

Dear Sabrina,

I was wondering - what age should you have your first kiss, French kiss, lose your virginity etc? I’m already 16 and I haven’t had sex yet, I had my first kiss at 14 and my first French kiss this year. But I feel like such a loser cause all my friends are having sex, and say it’s so much fun!! Is it really worth the hype?

Jane from California

You roll your eyes. 16 and already had her first French kiss. She was 2 years ahead of you in that sense. You hadn’t had sex yet, either. You hadn’t really kissed a boy for real either. The only kiss you’d had to date was -

Ew!

You had to rectify this situation immediately. The only kiss you’d had to date was Billy Guerrero? In fifth grade?! You couldn’t believe yourself. You’d let time slip away, you’d let your real first kiss prime time slip away. What guy is gonna want a girl at college who was gonna want to date a girl who can’t even kiss properly! You’d bet Carmy had kissed girls, hell he’d probably had sex already. With who you weren’t sure because the only person Carmy opened his mouth to give more then a muttered yes or no were you, and his direct family.

Maybe it was with Claire down the street, she always seemed to you to be sweet on him. He would probably be better for him, anyway. If Mikey wasn’t teasing him about her being his girlfriend, he was teasing about you being his girlfriend. Each time he brought it up Carmy would go red as a tomato and tell him to shut up, and if Richie was around it would get even worse.

You wondered if he liked it, why he didn’t tell you about it - wait - why hadn’t the two of you talked about sex? It wasn’t until this moment you’d realized you’d never breached the topic. You laid your magazine on your chest, flicking the cover of Carmys Spider-Man comic with your nail to get his attention from your position sprawled out over his thighs as your pillow.

“Mm” he hums in response, blue eyes continuing to move across the page. That was something you always loved about Carmy, those large round blue eyes. You loved to tease him that he looked like Flik from bugs life. You’d done very intense studying of those eyes from your many intense staring contests over the summer breaks you two spent together, he would cheat to win, of course - but you liked having an excuse to look at his eyes, so you didn’t mind.

“What was your first kiss like?” You test the waters. Without even realizing what you had done, he mirrored you and laid his open comic on his chest to hold his page so he could give you his full attention.

“First kiss?” He repeats. You couldn’t believe how much better his stutter had gotten over last summer. He had told you he wanted it gone or at least as gone as he could get it by the time you went off to college, so the two of you checked out all the speech pathology books the library had to offer and got to work every day. It was hard work, but after about a month he got the hang of it.

“Very first kiss, well - real kiss” you clarify and by nature he brushed away your bangs that had fallen in front of your eyes from the woosh of air that came from putting his comic down.

“Uh- w-wh-“ he stops himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, focusing really hard on what he was trying to say and a few seconds later he tries again “what’s a real kiss? Like a kiss that’s not just the back of my hand?” He joked and you snorted a chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Yes dummy like- like a real kiss on a date or something or like…I dunno have you ever had a girlfriend? Well, before you met me? Would a 6th grade girlfriend count?” You thought out loud. You hadn’t ever had a boyfriend before, and Carmy hadn’t said he was dating anyone and spent all of his time with you that wasn’t spent at home or at school, so you could safely assume he hadn’t, but just wanted to be sure.

“n-no- no girlfriend uh- why do you ask?” He cleared his throat that way Richie did after he asked a question he knew was stupid and you shrugged a bit

“So who have you kissed? Claire?” You ask and those big blue eyes go wide as saucers as he shakes his head no like a bobble head

“What - what?! W-why why would you think I kissed Claire? Claire- Claire Dunlap? from down the street?” He clarified, his cheeks heating up

“Woah! Do you have a crush on her?” You sat up and he groaned, rubbing over his face dramatically.

“Squiiish. Not you too” he groaned dramatically. “No! I don’t like Claire! Actually to be f-fucking honest everyone always trying to cram her down my throat makes me hate her!” He huffed

“Well then who have you kissed! A real kiss!?” You question with a laugh, unsure why he was being so secretive over something so small. The two of you could vote in the next election for Christ sake, a kiss shouldn’t be this big of a deal.

“No one!” He blurts, the heat from his cheeks bleeding up to the tips of his ears and down his neck and collarbones. “There. Ok! No one and I sure as fuck didn’t kiss Claire Dunlap.” He crossed his arms, averting your gaze. You were sat there, just staring. You were frankly trying to absorb that, it was surprising to you with such a stud of an older brother - he hadn’t gotten around.

“Me either” you said after a few beats of silence and his eyes quickly found yours again, mouth dropping slightly and he blinked a few times, the way that told you he was trying to digest what you were saying.

“Y-you haven’t kissed Claire-“

“Anyone” you interrupted. His jaw dropped like a trout as he stared at you in shock and you grabbed your magazine, rolling it up and bonking him on the head with it. “Don’t look at me like that! You haven’t kissed anyone either! I technically have you beat because I kissed Billy G. at recess in fifth grade once even though it was just like… a mom kiss you know like a- like” you demonstrate a little puckery peck of your lips.

His eyes narrowed with jealousy and you smiled proudly “Squish, one - Bear? Zero” that was one thing about you two, you were always in a competition of some kind. Who could run farther, who could read a book faster, who could get their homework done first, you never realized it translated into other things too, and that neither of you were in the lead.

“I bet I’m better then you at kissing even though I haven’t done it I’ve practiced more so I’m good when it’s time for me to show my skill” he smirked, picking up his comic again. You scoffed

“Practice? On what, your bathroom mirror? It doesn’t count if it’s not a person, dummy.” You said and he shrugged

“Find out” he said casually, eyes not tearing up from the page. Now it was your cheeks that felt like they were on fire. Find out?! Find out what, does he even realize what he’s offering you right now?!

“Find out? What- you want to kiss me?” You said and he smirked a bit, dimples showing and his eyes flick back to yours.

“It’s you who wants to kiss me. I told you I’m a better kisser then you, so, if you don’t believe me why don’t you come find out.” He mused and went right back to reading. You sat there for a few moments, dumbfounded. You had a crush on Carmy, but it was only founded when you weren’t together - well, that was a lie, you still thought about kissing him while you were with him but would scold yourself for it that it was weird because he’s your best friend and it’s wrong to think of him that way.

But now he was just offering like it was his apple he didn’t want at lunch.

“French or regular?” You ask, trying to play it cool and the astonished look on his face led you to cackle, shoving his shoulder “what?! Stop looking at me like that weirdo!” You said and he smiled, shaking his head and doing one of those slow Carmy blinks as he sighs, a little smirk on his lips. He always reminded you of Natalie when he did that, he must have gotten it from her.

“You want me to stick my tongue in your mouth?” He mused and you nod

“I actually think it goes both ways- and with 0 practice I’d win. Sure of it.” You said cockily and shrugged a bit. He snorts a chuckle

“And how do we determine a winner?” He asked, shutting his comic and resting it on the nightstand next to your bed like he was genuinely weighing the offer in his mind.

You were quiet for a few moments, looking at him carefully - and it seemed like he was serious as you were, so you said “It’s supposed to feel good, right? So…whoever like..moans first?”

“Uh o-okay- okay sure um.” He swallowed thickly, wiping his hands on his jeans that you assumed were clammy now how they got when he was nervous. “So- how- how do you wanna like- sit,” he asked. Fuck. You were just now realizing you weren’t actually sure. Your heart was thumping so hard in your chest, blood was roaring in your ears. This was all going so fast - you were going to do it. You were going to kiss your crush.

“Uh-“ you said stupidly, tucking your hair behind your ears and digging your chapstick out of your pocket, cause guys like soft cherry flavored lips, right? If he was kissing you for a stupid competition you may as well make it good. “Yeah um. I think, maybe criss cross? Right? Like how we would play sailer by the sea” you crossed your legs and sat in front of him

“We should play later I’ve been practicing with nat - I’m totally gonna beat you” he crossed his legs, and you moved in closer so your knees were touching but your faces were still about 2 feet apart, too big a distance for a kiss. “Also- we’re gonna need to be closer” he said plainly. You snorted a laugh,

“Yes - we can play. How am I supposed to get closer?” You asked, and in one fluid motion he stuck his hands under your calves, and uncrossed your legs before dragging you forward quickly and wrapping your legs around his waist. You could feel his breath.

“There” he looks at you, eyes fanning from your eyes to your lips and back again. “That’s ok, right?” The low softness of his voice, mixed with the action of him just taking control how he did - it sent this feeling down to your core that felt so good. Like a pleasureful pulsing heartbeat, the only time you got that feeling was when you were alone in bed at night squeezing your thighs together thinking about Carmy.

“Mmhmm” you hummed, unsure what to do with your hands so you settled for placing them on your thighs. “So- uh- ok. I guess um..let’s get started?” Your voice was small, nervous. A definite switch of roles for the two of you. You weren’t sure if this was normal, but you assumed it was for Carmy.

He was being so normal about it, the same normal he was when you got your period at his house - he just went to Natalie’s bathroom, and came back to the guest bathroom with a few pads and tampons for you, as well as feminine wipes - normal. Not weird, like this happens every day for him. Like - periods (or in this case) sex isn’t the most embarrassing thing to teen life. His chill demeanor told you that he strictly saw it as a platonic friendly competition, so why do your panties feel sticky all the sudden?

“It’s ok- we don’t have to-“ he’s interrupted by your lips on his,

Now or never, right?

It was warm, a little messy at first, you found out quickly you should close your eyes since he closed his and once you did it was much easier to just focus on the sensation. His lips were soft, he tasted like the bowl of trix cereal he must have had before he came over. The way his lips moved with yours was… gentle, sweet, unhurried- you found yourself chasing them when he pulled away slightly and that caused you to open your eyes

“You-“ he huffs a small chuckle “you have t’kiss back, Squish. S’like i’m kissing a wall here” he said. You took a shaky breath, not even realizing you were just sat there like a dead fish, unmoving, in awe that his lips were really on yours. If you hadn’t just finished your period a week ago you’d be scrambling to the bathroom to see what was going on because you were gushing.

“Uh- sorry- sorry. I was just warming up” you clear your throat awkwardly, fingers tapping on your thighs nervously “lets try again” you said, leaning in and additionally mashing your nose with his “ow- oh- gosh, sorry” you giggle and he followed suit

“S’not your fault my beak is getting in the way” he joked, gently tilting your face and bringing his lips back to yours. You got the message this time, moving your lips with his and wow. It felt…good. That heartbeat right above your cunt had never pulsed so hard before, it nearly hurt and you weren’t sure what to do about it with him right there.

You’d usually use the firm corner of one of your throw pillows you kept on your bed when this uncomfortable sensation happened, thinking of exactly this - kissing Carmy - and hump it, and hump it, and hump it, until you were frustrated to tears because you still felt like you weren’t finished. That the feeling would never go away unless you stopped thinking about Carmy like that - but it was addictive, and you couldn’t help but think you were chasing something.

It all elevated when you felt his tongue on your bottom lip, it was almost like the sensation in your core was beginning to travel throughout your entire body and that had never happened before. It went from just that strong pulsing in your cunt, travelling to a tightness that was winding up in your stomach, your breasts felt good - as strange as that thought was, the only time you remembered they were there was when they were sore because your period was coming, so the warm gushy feeling in your chest and the pangs of pleasure that were coursing through you from the simple swipe of his tongue was something to be revered.

From there, it was like you were following a script you hadn’t even known you’d memorized. Your hands found his shoulders, before travelling to the back of his neck and rubbing over the little curls at the base. You swipe your tongue over his, fingers sprawling over the back of his head to pull him in closer. You didn’t know what came over you, but you deepened the kiss, and he accepted. His hands found the back of your waist, squeezing gently and trailing up your sides, stopping hard below your breasts.

You pulled away, looking at him. If it was any other day, he’d have thought you were initiating a staring contest, but the blown-out look in your eyes and small pants leaving your lips reminded him of when their family cat had a little too much catnip and started climbing the screen doors, wild. His eyes nearly fell out of his head when the next question left your lips

“Have you had sex before?” your voice was breathy, if you had known better you’d have called it for what it was - horny. The only thing on your mind was Carmy, not how your mom would be home any minute and you forgot to take out the chicken for dinner, not how it probably isn’t a normal thing for best friends or any friends really, to kiss. But you and Carmy hadn’t really ever been ‘normal’ friends.

“Uhhh” he tried to find his words. He looked so pretty. His cheeks were the pretty flush pink you loved on him so much, it suited him. His lips were swollen and kiss bitten and red. You realized that the glossiness on them was a mixture of your salivas and that brought a burst of that delicious warmth to your chest. “N-no, haven’t have you- I mean- can you have sex without kissing?” he wondered out loud.

“I don’t want to leave high school a virgin” you blurt out. It was half true, you did feel a bit like a loser, even though you could always lie and tell people you had done it even if you hadn’t. It also felt like the one opportunity was presenting itself for you to have sex with your childhood crush and if he agreed, then a win is a win in your book.

“Alright and- and uh” he sits back on the headboard, huffing a chuckle and rubbing over his mouth as he thought, staring up at the ceiling to try and get a gauge on what he was about to say. It was one of the habits he’d picked up during all of your speech practice together, it was cute, almost like he was stopping the words from falling out of his mouth before he was ready to say them so it didn’t come out all jumbly and stuttered. “And you wan’t help with this- i’m assuming you see it as a problem? Thats why you brought it up, right? You want help with that…issue” he mused.

Suddenly, you felt really, really shy. Shy, stupid, flustered, any synonym for embarrassed and feeling like a complete and utter moron. “I shouldn’t have said anything - i’m sorry, uh- you win” You got up, going over to your dresser and digging out your after-school clothes to change since you were in jeans still. Why the hell would you say that? What, was he gonna just offer to have sex with y-

“I-I mean- I don’t want to, either. I just uh- haven’t… y’know - met anyone who I trusted enough to do it with. But- it- it felt good… the kiss? So, if you wanted we could um..cause- cause I trust you, I trust you more then like…anyone- so, yeah- I-I mean it’s like- like a favor right? You uh…scratch my back- er whatever the saying is- if- if you want to” you looked back at him to see him rambling with his gaze locked on the floor, clearly feeling as stupid and embarrassed as you feel.

Holy shit, this may actually happen.

“Yeah- yeah” you agree, mulling it over in your mind. He’s right, this shouldn’t change your friendship, because from what you’d heard - losing said virginity wasnt fun, it was weird, uncomfortable, and a little gross sometimes, so it was almost like you two could get the awkward first time part out of the way together so you could both hit the ground running in terms of dating and hooking up when it came to college, cause that's what college was supposed to be all about, right? Finding the love of your life?

“Sure- Uh-” you swallow thickly and toss him one of the many pairs of sweatpants he kept in your dresser for when he slept over as well as a fresh t-shirt and grab yourself a clean pair of panties from your top drawer since although the awkwardness had taken away that dull needy ache, you were still uncomfortably wet and had to get yourself cleaned up and changed. “How about Friday? My parents have their date night so- you could come over after school and we can um…do it?” you ask and he nodded quickly, grabbing the sweatpants and sweatshirt.

“Yeah- perfect, that’s - mmhmm” he swallowed hard, cheeks bright red. You would totally be making fun of him right now if you weren’t absolutely sure you looked just as flustered, the two of you sharing at eachother in silence like a pair of deer in headlights.

“I’m gonna go change” you said and left the room, closing the bathroom door behind you and sighing deeply to yourself, leaning against the door.

And so it was set.

Carmy had exactly 3 days to study up on this topic other than sophomore health class he knew absolutely nothing about. Well- he had found one of Michaels Playboy magazines before when he was 14, it was the first time he popped a boner and it freaked him out so bad since his father wasn’t very present and Mike hadn’t given him the talk yet. It was a solid 2 months of worrying that he had some weird dick cancer because he got hard every time he peeked through said porn-mag before he asked Mike about it, and he still hasn’t lived down the teasing. Thank god Mike kept his word on not telling Richie.

The moment he left your house that day it was straight to the Chicago public library. 3 books, 3 days. He was going to do his homework on this, because he was going to win the game he knew was inevitably pun intended coming his way. It was going to become a competition, and he knew the name of the game in sex was an orgasm, he knew that much at least, thank god.

The 3 titles he’d settled on,

Sex For Dummies ; He’d figured that should speak for itself, it sounded to him like the beginners guide to fucking. He wondered why every teen didn’t get a copy of this book, he’d heard guys talking about how sometimes girls are really bad in bed - so if everyone got one, like the dictionaries they all got in elementary school - he thought their lives would probably be made easier in that department.

She Comes First; and boy, was that a read. He stayed up so late Wednesday night reading it that you had to wake him in homeroom when the bell rang to go to first period. He didn’t know there were so many things to know about a vagina, but he was confident now he probably knew more then any guy in the school about pussys and what gets them going at least on paper once he read all 350 pages in one day.

He comes next; It made alot of sense. This was the breaziest read for him, he sat on the L after school reading it on the ride home. Of course, the front was covered in a brown paper bag he’d taped to it so no one could tell what he was reading, he wasn't a pervert! He was glad he read she comes first, first, because he’d learned that girls can cum more then once, and that when they do - it gets better each time. He also learned that the clit is the best part to touch, and that it actually has like- a tail? Or something? Inside that you can mess with too, and it feels super good for the girl. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to find something like that with his dick, but he guessed he’d figure it out.

The day was finally here. You had been thinking about it all week long. The prep you were doing was very different then the prep he was. You were making sure your entire body was smooth, plucking your eyebrows, waxing your upper lip, whitening your teeth, shaving your big toe. Literally, anything and everything grooming. You had put on a lacy pink thong that you’d gotten at the mall a year or so ago in preparation for the night you finally did this, but after observing yourself in the mirror you felt insecure about it. It was just Carmy, he wasn’t into you, it would be weird if you tried to be sexy, right? Like you were trying to seduce him or something? So you settled on some plain grey panties, instead, and a black bra.

You heard a knock at the door right at 7. Exactly on time, per usual. Your parents had left for their date 20 minutes ago, so it was perfect timing. When you opened the door, you heart may as well have melted and poured out of your ass to see Carmy standing there with a bundle of red roses. “Hey- uh- so - got you these” he thrust them in your direction. They were already cut, and thornless, ready to be plopped in a vase. You could see a little bandage on the pinky finger of his non-dominant hand that wasn’t there at school today, he must have pricked himself while he was trimming them up.

“Y’get a girl flowers, you trim em’ up, n’for the roses gotta take the thorns off, eh’? Don’t wan’t t’hurt ylady do you? And you trim ‘em cause girls like it, makes em’ all even n’shit. N’it Makes em’ live longer too. Y’givin a gift not a chore heard? Flowers need to be able to be dropped in a vase and that's it, otherwise y’re a prick f’givin’ y’r lady a job t’do” Mikey explained as he snipped the thorns off of the roses he’d gotten for his date. The conversation stuck with Carmy all these years, he promised himself one day he’d put the advice to use.

“Oh- wow - Bear, these are like -” you leaned in, smelling them deeply, the sweet floral sense filling your nose “Wow- this is so sweet of you, you didn’t have to” you stepped back and opened the door wider. He followed you in, shutting the door behind him like usual.

“Mikey says it’s what y’do I guess, so - expect flowers from guys you do this with” he nudged you with his shoulder playfully. The action made your heart flutter but also stomach sink , heavy with nerves. Right. He’s here to just get something over with, like he was probably expecting you to be and the flowers were just a result of him wanting to do things right and not because he had any real, tangible feelings for you other than platonic.

“Mmm, will do. Thanks- I’m gonna go get these in some water, you can get settled” you told him and headed into the kitchen to find a vase. When you came back to the room his hoodie was neatly folded and sitting on your desk, his shoes tucked away beneath it and there was a… towel? On your bed?

“Uh-” you set the vase of flowers on your dresser

“Right- uh- so the towel, they say in the books for your first time, sometimes girls will bleed a little? Or- or if I do it right things can get really wet, so…just trying to be proactive I didn’t wanna make a huge mess y’know?” he explained while staring at the towel and rubbing the back of his neck nervously how he did, heat creeping across the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks.

“You…studied?” you smile a bit at the idea. You wondered how he did so, did he just watch porn?! You had heard from girls with boyfriends that watch porn - the sex was usually bad, and that they went way to hard and fast. You hoped it wasn’t that.

“Yeah I read some stuff.. How else will I know what the fuck m’doin?” he watched you as you sat down on top of the towel, assuming that was the spot he meant for you.

“Uh- yea…yeah. Ok, well thanks- I guess I should have studied, too. Didn’t even think about it- my legs are soft, though. And I shaved my - um- yeah.” you said, voice getting meeker and smaller by the end. The two of you were never like this, it was usually constant banter and comfortable silence. Awkwardness wasnt something the two of you experienced together up until now.

“Thank you- you didn’t have to it’s…it’s just hair. But um…go pee, before we get started- you should pee.” he sat down on the bed in front of you. You looked at him confused, brows furrowing together but before you could ask he added “In the books, they said for girls - it can feel like…like you need to pee, right before the good part if I do it right. So, if I do do it right- I want you to be able to finish instead of worrying if you’ll pee on me, so I figured if you go pee now then-” you held your hand up, shaking your head as you stood.

“No further info needed” you said as you padded off to the bathroom. Even though the shower you had taken not even an hour prior to him coming over was so thorough made you fresh as the day you were born you still wiped up with babywipes before coming back to see 2 granola bars and 2 bottles of water on the nightstand. “Are you planning on making me pass out or something?” you joked, sitting back on the towel like before.

He chuckled a bit “Well if i’m that good my first time it’ll be a record or something I bet” he rubbed his forearm nervously “So um..should we kiss? Like last time?” he asked, averting your gaze. You didn’t know this, but he thought he was genuinely about to have a heart attack, and the only reason he was continuing instead of asking you to call an ambulance was because if he was to die in your bed while making out because of the sheer excitement that came with the potential of you touching his dick, he would have died happy.

The question being asked in that soft, sweet tone of his- syrupy and honest, made your stomach flip- and there was a pang of warmth to your heat that made your heart jump to your throat with anticipation. You couldn’t answer, instead, you just nodded, not breaking his gaze. Jesus fucking Christ those eyes. You had only seen the ocean once, in Hawaii on a vacation. His eyes made you think of the waters in Maui, that was how blue. You could get lost in them like they were the ocean, they often rendered you speechless, like he could peer into your soul. “Okay” he said gently.

This time, the kisses started small. He gently pecked the corner of your lips, before you remembered that yes you had a job to do here as well, and you put your hand gently on the side of his cheek, barely touching him. He could feel you shaking, so he put his hand over yours, gently squeezing your four fingers as his lips captured yours in a tender, affectionate kiss. The feeling was so…different then last time. This time felt much more purposeful, and not in the get it over with way, in the i’ve been meaning to do this, way.

Honestly, the feeling made you dizzy. Not dizzy in the kind of way that immediately made you want to throw up, -

(Carmy learned you got very motion sick very quick at your 15th birthday party when he, Mike, Natalie, and Richie were teaching you how to play dead-man on the trampoline and within 10 seconds of being bounced with your eyes closed by the 4 of them you were scrambling to throw up a mix of cake and pasta)

- but dizzy in the way that you weren't forming any kind of memory of the encounter, and you also weren’t sure what you were doing - but you came to with your shirt off, dry humping your best friend as he laid sprawled over your floral duvet panting into each others mouths as your childhood teddybear watched the two of you manhandle eachother, he honestly looked like he was judging, but you mentally told him to fuck off.

“Yeah-” he breathed, his cheeks were a pretty pink, his pupils “I-I think that was um…better then last time. Do you feel hot? I feel hot” he admitted, swallowing hard as you both caught your breath. You looked down and oh, yeah - he's still fully dressed. You were still mostly dressed, too. Well, your shirt - you hadn’t a clue where it went, but your fluffy pajama pants were still suffocating your thighs and holy shit..

He is hard as a rock against your clothed pussy right now.

You look back up at him, and nod in agreement. “Feels like - wow- yeah. Uh- m’hot” you got up and saw the evidence of his arousal straining against his jeans. “Uh- so…” you trail off

“I think i’m supposed to do that part” he sat up, taking his shirt off in that silly boyish way with one fluid motion pulling it up over the back of his head, his sandy blonde hair becoming ruffled by the action. You look over his chest, not even bothering to not stare. That was the point of this whole thing right, to experience? In turn, he crossed his arms shyly, to be expected. Carmy had been open about his upset that he got more of his moms genes then his dads. He was short, softer-jawed, smaller-lipped, and bigger-eyed, the only thing he got was the big Italian Berzatto nose.

His brother was tall, much broader, was able to grow a full face of stubble by 17. Carmy was still patchy, but he was proud of his little patch of curly brown hair in the middle of his chest. Mike kept telling him he would ‘grow like a weed’ as soon as he turned 20, he didn’t believe it, though.

“Oh- yea? Thats what they said in your sex books” you teased and stepped forward, between his spread thighs, likely to give his dick breathing room. His hands found your hips as he snorted a chuckle

“Shut up” he smiled and carefully pulled down the waistband of your pajama bottoms. “I did read…” he helped you step out of them, hands trailing up the backs of your now bare thighs. The action made goosebumps appear on your flesh, nearly made you shiver. “That you are supposed to cum first, it’s like…a warm up.” he explained, looking up at you as he made his way to hold your hips again. You realized quickly, that his hands were also trembling, and he kept stroking and petting you hoping you wouldn’t notice as much.

Your panties had a dark spot on them that he became fixated on momentarily, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You felt that twitching at his words, your hole clenching around absolutely nothing. You weren’t sure you could remember what color the sky was if someone asked at that moment, you were so focused on Carmy, it was like you two and this bedroom were the only things in the universe. “I haven’t been able to do it, I don’t think you’ll be able to - but you can try. How do you want to do this should I just lay down and I dunno… you stick it in? I got 3 boxes of condoms, different kinds just in case” you went to open your nightstand and he stopped you, grabbing your hand.

He chuckled a bit, you took it as a you don’t know what you’re doing, let me explain kind of laugh, but really he was just wondering how the following words came out of his mouth “I’m supposed to eat your pussy, could I try?”

You swore your knees went weak. Carmen, Carmen Berzatto wanted to go down on you. Thank god you made sure that department was taken care of so well in preparation. “Uhhh- alright” you sat down on the towel, twiddling your fingers nervously “So- wow uh” you giggle nervously, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Your um..you look pretty, by the way” he said while looking at the duvet. He sounded as nervous as he was when he said that. He had thought you looked pretty from the moment he walked through the door, but was too nervous until you were both literally almost naked to say it. You could hardly believe it, because you did your best to not put in a ton of effort. Sure, you were very well groomed, but you didnt like - dress up or put makeup on or do your hair how you would have wanted, you were in regular bra and panties, and pajamas when he walked in. You were also pretty sure that you had a zit growing on your chin and really hoped he hadn’t noticed.

But, that was exactly why he thought you looked so pretty. He loved that you let him have you like this, well - in both senses. He felt so lucky to be able to see you comfortable, in your element. “Thanks, dork, so do you get the honors of taking my panties too?” you teased. That was the difference between you, when you got nervous you cracked jokes and made fun of him to ease the tension in your own mind - when he got nervous he often got lost in the tension of his own mind causing him to go quiet.

“I do actually, says the book- so lay down” he shoots back in the same teasing tone, a small smile gracing his lips once again. You, and his brother were the only 2 that could pull him out of his head so fast, and so easily. You shook your head, laying back on the pillows he’d set up and spreading your legs, laying your feet flat on the bed. He sat in front of you, running a hand up your leg and feeling over the soft, smooth skin. “You are really soft” he muttered, almost to himself, feeling up your thigh “Do you mind if I kiss you, here?” he asked gently, running a palm over the inner of your thigh. No one had ever touched you there, so the action made you shiver since the area was surprisingly sensitive.

“Sure” you said quietly, watching his every move with wide, curious eyes. You were sure the wet spot on your panties had grown tremendously due to the way you felt dripping down the curve of your ass, thank god for that towel when they come off or my sheets would probably soak through by the end of this. He started at your ankle, leaving gentle pecks and putting your manicured foot on his shoulder as he continued his journey of kissing up your shin, over your knee, not leaving a single part unkissed. If this is what sex was about, you totally got why all your friends were raving about it, because you were being driven absolutely wild and it hadn’t even really started yet.

He kissed up to your thigh, laying down in between your legs. His forearms were wrapped around the plush of your thighs, hugging them as he left kisses over the waistband of your panties. The action made your stomach muscles clench at how good he was making you feel. You needed something to touch you, though. That was the only thing on your mind, but before you could ask - he beat you to it. “Would you be ok with me kissing your middle here?” his voice was husky, breathy. He was gripping your thighs so his hands wouldn't shake, he was fucking panting like he just ran the mile in P.E. and he wasn’t sure why.

His mouth was watering at the smell of you, he had to fucking swallow a mouthful of spit before he could say something. He felt like a fucking starved animal, but he was gathering every polite, gentlemanly fiber of his being to remain kind, gentle. “Please do” you said and without hesitation, he was essentially making out with your cunt through your panties. The sight was filthy, but so sexy it was making your head spin.

Whines and moans were leaving your throat you weren’t even aware of as you watch him, slack jawed and sucking at the fabric of your panties, grunting and moaning at the flavor. “T-take em off…please-” you weren’t sure where the bedroom voice that came out of you came from, but he seemed to like it at the way his eyes rolled and fluttered shut at the way you were begging for him to eat you out.

He sat up just enough to get your panties pulled off, shoving them in the back pocket of his jeans before laying back down and resuming his position. “Taste so, so good, squish, better than I imagined” he said before kissing your mound. The wet clicking sound of your pussy clenching at his words made heat rush your cheeks in embarrassment, but it made his dick twitch against his jeans. “Can I kiss your clit?” he asked, the casualness of his tone made your head fall back on the pillow, covering your face with embarrassed hands at the vulgarity of it all.

“Go ahead, Bear” you said, smile lacing your voice.

“I liked it when you were lookin’ at me, just so you know” he said, spreading you out with his fingers and looking for just a moment, he found it easily as it had grown nearly twice it’s size, peeking out of its hood. He attached his lips to it, just like the book he’d read said to do, and lightly sucked, before flicking his tongue lightly over it. Your hand clamps over your mouth to stifle the cry that left your throat, hips jerking and you grab his hair with your other hand, not even meaning to but tugging.

This caused a moan to leave his throat, which in turn caused his lips to vibrate, and you looked down at him, vision hazy like a dream at the sensation. “God- oh god- feels so good Bear - wow- you’re so good at this” you said, breath heavy and jaw slack “uh-huh” you whine when he pads his tongue over your clit in wide, wet drags. The sounds his mouth was making as he sucked and kissed and lapped at your juices were absolute sin, the hottest shit you’d ever heard.

“D’you like it more when I kiss your clit like I was doin’ or when I run my tongue on it like that?” he asked, sucking at your folds and nose nudging your clit as he waited for an answer.

“Both - Both- everything feels good - you feel so good” you praised, pushing his bangs from his face. He smiled into you proudly, continuing to lick, and suck, and swirl his tongue. It had been a knot building for a while, and it had been about 30 minutes of him doing this, when you felt it. But, all the activities you’d been engaged in the conversation you had before you started slipped your mind. “Fuck- fuck - sorry- I gotta pee” you told him and tried to tug him off

“Y’dont, trust me, just trust me” he said determined, he had told himself before going into this that if he could make you cum, that it would be his prize because per the books he’d read one of the main complaints with women was that their male partners didn’t bother to be sure they finished, so if you never wanted to do this again - he’d pride himself internally forever on be the very first man to ever make you cum.

You whined, back arching to the ceiling and hips dipping back into the bed. You didn’t want him to stop, so you weren’t sure why you were subconsciously trying to wiggle away. Your eyes had been closed for a few moments, and you felt a hand on your stomach, dancing fingers following it. You opened them to see him looking up at you, and his eyes flicker to his hand that was laying palm up on your belly before meeting your gaze again, in a silent ask for you to hold his hand.

Without thinking, you did so, needing to be grounded in that moment. His thumb rubbed soothing strokes on the back of your hand as he built up the speed of his tongue, running it back and forth and up and down, flicking it, sucking on the sensitive nub until your brain turned to mush, and stars filled your vision.

“Carmy Carmy- Oh shit- Yes”

The grand finale only lasted about a minute or two, but by the end your thighs were shaking and you were gasping for breath. “Y’need to breathe, did you forget humans need oxygen to live?” he teased. You’d usually give him a light punch on the shoulder for that, but your whole body felt like warm jelly.

“Shut up” you pant, looking down when you feel your clit twitching every few moments “I think you broke it its like.. Having a seizure or something” you said and you both burst into giggles. After a few moments of comfortable quiet you nudge him with your foot “Hey” he looks up at you “Its your turn now” you said and his brows raised

“Y-you don’t have t’do that, that was sex, so - congratulations we are both not virgins” he wiped his chin on the inside of his arm and sat up. You furrowed your brow

“No- I want to, I can make you cum, too ” you said, in your mind, it was a challenge - and when it came out of your mouth you realized how it sounded.

“Are you… asking me for permission to suck my dick?” he looked at you carefully. Shyly, you just nod. For whatever reason the nature of the room and this particular situation had the two of you acting out of traditional character roles, and he was the one being bold. “I want you to say it, then you can suck my dick” he said and stood up, unbuttoning his jeans and looking at you, brows raised expectantly as he waited for you to do as he asked.

Your throat suddenly felt dry, and you were starting to drip on that damn towel again. “Bear, I wanna suck your cock, Can I please?” you asked, tone innocent yet laced with a confident determination. His breath got caught in his throat, you swore his eyes could have fallen out. He didn’t know the word cock was apart of your very colorful vocabulary, he could have creamed his boxers with the way that the word rolled off of your tongue.

“Sure” he said all too casual and tugged off his jeans, kicking them to the side. He laid down with you, like how he was while you were making out and you got on your knees tugging the waistband of his boxers until his cock came out and kissed his navel, the tip glistening with pre.

“So-” you look at it, mouth watering at the sight. You had never done this, but you were sure that you knew one thing for sure, Carmy had a really pretty cock. You didn’t even realize you were staring until he said

“S’not gonna suck itself, squish.”

Oh, right, that was what you were doing. You grab it and he hissed “Fuckin’ hell- y’tryna rip it off? A little nicer, please” he chuckled a bit and you felt your cheeks heat, loosening your grip.

“Sorry…” you said sheepishly, bending over and licking the tip of it, one slow drag from the back of your tongue to the tip of it, flicking your tongue over the slit your nose scrunching slightly at the new flavor. The action though, had Carm seeing stars and his toes curling.

“Hhhhnnn- oh my fucking god” he rasped. You figured that was a good thing, so you did it again “Squish I-” and again, “yes- fuck” and again, “Squish i-i’m gonna mmmmmffff” he whined, his cock twitching in your hand and leaking pre in a near continuous drip. You had no expirience, so you had no idea what this meant, or that he was trying to warn you. With 3 more slow sensual ball to tip licks, he was shooting cum all over your nose, upper lip, tongue, and chin. You squeak in surprise, sitting up and licking your lips. “Oh- hmmmmfuck- gimme a sec” he groaned, taking over for you and stroking himself, the remainder of his load shooting over his stomach.

You watched in awe as he got himself off, back lightly arched and head fallen back, eyes closed as sexy pants and moans left his lips, along with soft “fuck - thank you, thank you” It was literally the hottest thing you had ever seen. He stopped after a moment, finding his breath and looking up at you, when he saw your milky white chin it both made his softening dick twitch and drew a chuckle from him. “When I keep saying im gonna do something and my dick is leaking like a broken sink it means open up er get out of the splash zone” he joked and grabbed his shirt, wiping your chin and neck.

You laughed, laying back down and sighing contently. “Noted for next time” you said and he fixed his boxers, sitting up and stroking your calf.

“There can be a next time? I mean…. I was hoping so that was really fun, felt really good” he said and you nod, smiling a bit

“Sure, I mean, yeah… but it doesn’t mean we stop like- doing friend stuff, right?” you questioned. As much fun as you had, you could never give up something as treasured as your friendship for something as trivial as sex.

“Oh, absolutely, who else is gonna wait w’me to get the new spiderman comics? And whos gonna feed you when your parents are out of town?” he teased and you rolled you eyes playfully, smiling and shaking your head.

“Love you, dork” you bit your lip as he brought your other ankle to his lips.

“Love y’too, Squish. Can I?” he looked down at your glistening core, before back at you. You bit your lip lightly, you weren’t sure if all men were this enthusiastic about eating pussy - but you were thankful that he was because your mind was still swimming from the last time and you had to experience it again.

“Mmhmm” you spread your legs wider for him and he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he got to work. You had found quickly that when you tell him something feels good or he’s doing a good job that it really got him going. It was cute, truly, how he loved being praised, so you made sure to do it whenever you could get something out that wasn't a babbled, coherent mess since the pleasure he was providing was causing your brain to short circuit.

An hour and a half and 3 orgasms later, after about 10 minutes of trying to catch your breath and cool down since you were boiling from the blood coursing your system like an F1 racetrack, you sit up. “M’gonna go get cleaned up” you said, going to get up on wobbly legs.

“No! No, I got it lay down don’worry” he said and made his way to the bathroom. He came back with babywipes and a wet wash cloth, as well as a dry clean towel to wipe off with after. He helped you wipe up and knowing your bedroom by heart, he went over to your dresser and got you a fresh set of panties and a tshirt, as well as a pair of his sweatpants so you could both be comfortable. After you had both gotten dressed, he laid in your bed after bringing the towel downstairs to the wash for you both as well as your dirty clothes, and you cuddled into his chest as you turned on your little tv, playing the next episode of Glee and he hands you a granola bar after being sure you had a few sips of water to replenish.

“To no longer being virgins, hm?” he smiled a bit, holding his bar up in a silly idea of a toast. You tap yours to his with a grin

“To no longer being virgins”

Part 2 here

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evercelle · 11 months ago

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i really love your lineart!!!!!!

sometimes in the inking stage i kind of mess up about the thickness about the lines and such. and in general it looks stiff in comparison to the sketch. any advice for a novice?

thanks!! wow it's been two years since someone asked me about lineart :') in addition to the stuff i wrote in that post, some ways my process has changed since then:

using a pen at lowered opacity w/ velocity variation:

(example used is ciro pen!) if you draw a fast stroke it thins out, but consistent speed/pressure gives you a uniform width. it took me awhile to get used to bc developing speed + control just takes practice, but i like how pens with velocity make it quick to vary line width easily. (it might be a placebo effect but i also feel like drawing with these types of pens forces you to have more line confidence, bc it's very visually apparent when you go slow or unsteady...haha)

2. sketch vague, draw detail in later

for pictures that i draw separate lineart for, i usually do rough bodies/shapes and then draw in details while inking. if there's too much detail in the sketch, i think it's easy to focus too much on following the sketch perfectly with your lines, so it gets really stiff and loses the motion in the original sketch. example sketch -> lineart

3. the "this is fine" or "eh fix it later"

try not to overwork it! its fine if there are holes... and the lines dont connect... and the width is weird... it is okay.... employ the time honored techniques of "it's fine" it or "ill just fix it later" lol i tweak or add details as part of coloring to correct places where the lineart got weird. you can probably see it better in this process vid i posted before, but i also drew an example today ft. my boy gaming

like any other skill, i think developing skill + speed with lines follows with time and practice, but i totally empathize with the struggle against it looking too stiff... getting past the mental block of trying Too Hard and losing the charm is tough. you can do it!! i hope this helps!

#ASK EVER #i love u gaming genshin impact... ur joie de vivre and kindness are so charming....#fun fact the first character in gamings name is the same as in mine. a rare irl ever fact

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musings-of-a-college-dork · 11 months ago

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An Odd Request

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Word count: roughly 1K

Steve’s wife goes to the gym and makes an odd request when she arrives home.

Warnings: sorta NSFW (mdni), use of Y/N, terms of endearment (baby).

Author’s note: This is just fluffy Steve and was written directly after I got home from the gym needing this man and a very specific kind of cuddling so…here it is! Short and sweet and very silly. Hope y’all enjoy!

It was a quiet Saturday morning in the Harrington household. Steve was the only one home, having a few hours on his own as Y/N went to meet her personal trainer. She had been seeing a trainer for a while as she, quote on quote, wanted “to be able to carry all the groceries in a single trip all by myself.” A noble and worthy cause in Steve’s eyes and yet as long as he was around, she’d never have to lift a finger. He was more than content to show off his own strength for her enjoyment…and yet wished to support her in any and all of her goals so off to the gym she had gone. As such, he had the home to himself for a few hours, a chance to get some work done.

He had spent most of the morning thus far drinking his coffee and sketching up new basketball drills and formations for the middle school team he coached. He finally understood exactly what Hopper had meant all those years ago about “coffee and contemplation” finding more and more that the man’s wisdom was never ending the older he got. We’ve gotta tighten up their current formations, he thought as the TV played some mindless sitcom in the background while he chewed on the end of his pencil. His mind looked over the squiggles on the paper in front of him trying to decide how to fix this. It had been weeks since they had won a game and morale was dropping fast. Jamie has to pass more but Donovan can’t really shoot…maybe if we move Paul to center and then swap Jordan and Cole we could-

The man wasn’t given another moment to think as he heard the front door open and close with a loud slam, the sound of feet padding their way down the entry hallway.

“Hey, baby!” Steve called as he continued to focus on the squiggles, drawing a few more lines before erasing them with equally as much vigor, “How was the gym?” A loud groan was all he received in reply as his wife dropped her bag to the ground and kicked off her tennis shoes, not even bothering to put them in the basket where she knew they belonged. The same basket she insisted his shoes lived in but rules didn’t apply to her, at least not right now. I’ll tease her about it later. “That good huh?” He called with a low chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair, “Well your protein shake is in the fridge. Should be cold enough since I put it in when you left.” Oddly enough, the man received no response. He waited a moment before he called again, looking up from his work.

“Bab-” And just like that she was in front of him. He jumped and let out a quiet swear as he clutched a hand to his chest. He hadn’t seen her before she had left and found himself taking a sharp inhale as he looked her up and down. She looked so fucking gorgeous in those tight black leggings that fit her just right, a simple white workout top, hugging her every curve, and the expensive black workout jacket he had saved up to get her for Christmas that she never left for the gym without. Not to mention the way her hair looked post-workout and the glow of sweat that radiated off of her. He was about to open his mouth to make some lewd remark he hoped she’d find charming but-

“Hold my tits.” The man blinked once, then again, his mouth open and gaping like a fish.

“W-what?”

“I want your hands on my tits,” Y/N repeated, holding his gaze with complete and utter seriousness, “Please.”

“Like…you want my…”

“Your hands. On my tits. Now.” When the man continued not to move his wife let out a deep sigh and took the pencil from his hand, laying it down next to his sketch as she replaced it with something much better. She led his large palm gently to her breast, letting out a sigh of relief as she encouraged him to give a little squeeze. Again, Steve didn’t even know what to do, never having seen her like this. Sure, she was usually a little more cuddly and blissed out after the gym as the endorphins ran through her body but this was…new. A good kind of new.

“So I take it you had a good time at the gym?” The man teased breathlessly as he ushered her around the coffee table to sit beside him on the couch. The woman let out a hum in confirmation as she laid down so they were pressed together, her back to his front, and wrapped his arms around her so his hands could live right where she needed them to. Another chuckle came from Steve as he buried his face into her hair finding-

“Did you put on perfume?”

“After working out,” she whispered as her eyes closed shut in complete and utter satisfaction, being held just the way she needed to be right now, “Didn’t want to come home smelling only like sweat.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve used his nose to brush the hair from the side of her neck, making her giggle as he pressed mindless kisses there, “I smell like sweat all the time and you still love me.”

“I do,” Y/N titled her head so he could press a kiss to her lips, one she returned eagerly before laying her head back down on the couch, “Fuck, I’m never doing the Stairmaster ever again.”

“Y/N, baby, if this,” Steve gave her tits a little squeeze to punctuate his thought, “is what happens after you’re on the Stairmaster, by all means, keep doing it. Any excuse to cuddle with my pretty little wife and hold her boobies is more than fine by me.”

“Don’t call them that,” Y/N scrunched her nose with a chuckle as she pressed her ass more into him to fit them closer together.

“What?” The man teased giving another squeeze, “Boobies?”

“STEVE!” The couple dissolved into a communal fit of giggles as they lay there together, all stress and strain completely forgotten as calm domesticity filled their hearts and home.

#stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things smut #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fluff

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elliespillowprincess · 1 year ago

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SHES MY DRUG

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pt 1

pt 2

pt 3

a/n: this is my first ever (kinda) fic so it kinda sucks and is all over the place.. rockstar/band ellie has been on my mind too much lately so yk i had to.

c/w: modern au, reader is in college (premed), biker ellie!!! smut next part!! mentions of smoking, drinking and drugs (reader and ellie), fem reader, plus size reader, insecure reader, fluff, abby is readers mean ex (abby lovers im sorry, i still love her) angst, body dysmorphia, fatphobia, race of reader not specified, TERRIBLY WRITTEN, not proofread

WHY YOU SHOULD NOT SUPPORT NEIL DRUCKMANN

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“hey did you hear about the music festival in town this weekend?” your friend, liliana, asks, making you wake up from the trance your computer put you in. you and liliana had been friends prior to college, meeting in your honors anatomy class in high school. with a similar career goal in mind, you two decided to go to the same college and become roomates. you two had been in your towns coffee shop for hours, trying to finish an assignment your biology professor gave you two.

“there’s a festival here? nobody ever comes out here.” you reply. nobody has ever done any concerts, festivals, or performances in your town. it was so small, they wouldn’t make enough profit so it just didn’t seem worth the trip. the only performances you ever saw were done by drunken men in your college bar.

“yeah! i don’t really know anyone that’s going though. it’d be nice to check out!”. she scrolls to find a post advertising the festival, with a list of who’s going. to nobody’s surprise, the list is small; 3 performers. “the tickets are only $50, we should go!!” she says whilst you’re reading the informative post. “i don’t know, lili, i mean who even are these people? is it even worth our money?” the idea of wasting your weekend at a festival, where you don’t know anyone playing, when you could be studying for finals makes you nervous.

“come onnn y/n, we can’t waste our uni years studying all the time! when we graduate, we’re gonna be swamped with med school work, might as well make the most out of the time we have!” liliana says cheerfully. sure, you could spare the hours, but you had so much on your plate. finals, work, and not even mentioning the fact you just broke up with your girlfriend of 4 years. you look at her face, she’s using puppy-dog eyes to hopefully persuade you into going. “i’ll think about it.”

you’re laying in your dorm room, back hunched over your laptop, with your hands in your hair. liliana was staying at her boyfriends house for the night, leaving you all alone. the amount of studying you’ve done in the past hours giving you a throbbing headache and double vision. you harshly close your laptop, saying “i’ll do it later.” in your head, lazily getting up to grab some advil from your medicine cabinet. you open the familiar bottle and pop a few pills into your mouth. walking to your bed, you plop down, and begin scrolling mindlessly on instagram.

then you remember what your friend was telling you about earlier, and you decide to look at your towns instagram. a new post making you curious as nothing had been posted since the fourth of july fireworks at the towns lake. you click on it, a flashy banner lighting up your screen.

GOLDWHIT GROVES FIRST EVER MUSIC FESTIVAL; FEATURING:

BEHIND THE ANGER

ELLIE WILLIAMS

DRAW MY BLOOD

THIS SATURDAY ONLY

you chuckle, finding the names of the bands amusing. one of them, however, drew your attention. the only one who was seemingly a solo performer, ellie williams. you decide to close your towns page and type the name into your search bar. your eyebrows raise at the amount of fan accounts this “ellie” has. you click on the only account with the blue verification symbol on it, her page filling your screen.

holy shit.

she was hot. like, really hot.

you click on her most recent post and it’s a video of her at one of her concerts. she’s playing an electric guitar furiously with gritted teeth. you hear girls screaming and see their hands reaching out trying to feel her. clearly, she craves all the attention so she pulls off her white wife beater, throwing it into the crowd. the screaming only intensifies as she has a douchey smile on her face. the video cuts of and you scroll through the different videos the post has, all of the same nature. you read the caption, “see you next time, dallas.” with no tags.

you open your messages app and begin typing to liliana.

you: ok maybe we should go to that festival i just stalked one of the performers and FUCKKK she’s hot

the bands have goofy names tho

“behind the anger” boy shaddup

you wait until you see the bubble appear, indicating she’s responding.

lili😦: TOLD U WE SHOULD GO! venmo me the money im buying tickets rn.

you laugh softly at her excitement to go, and open venmo, sending her $50. another message pops up.

lili😦: *photo attachment*

who were you looking at btw?

you open the message seeing the qr code for your ticket.

you: that ellie williams chick she looks like an asshole but a HOT asshole yk

i want her to play me like that guitar

gonna become a groupie😋

your tiredness takes over after texting lili for the past few hours, telling her goodnight and closing your phone.

the brightness of the morning sun wakes you up. it’s saturday, and thank GOD you had no classes today. you stay in your bed, opening tiktok. it kinda creeps you out that the first video is an edit of the girl you were gawking over last night. as the edit plays, you become even more excited for the festival later in the day. you look to the top of your screen for the time, 12:37. you partially curse yourself for letting yourself sleep in that late, getting up to brush your teeth.

lili😦: ARE U EXCITED FOR TN??

andrew is asking if he can come

smh he’s so clingy

kinda cute tho

the pinging of your phone causes you to finish brushing your teeth, spitting out the foam in your mouth and wiping your face.

you: i don’t mind

yall better not be like those concert couples

sitting on his shoulders n shit i’ll knock you off

you didn’t really mind as you’ve known andrew as long as you’ve know liliana. they’ve been together for the past six years, and you guys used to go on double dates with your ex all the time, it was like a little group.

lili😦: LMFAOOO we won’t

can we get ready tg 🥺

you have all the cute body glitter

you: sure come home whenever

you turn on the shower, grabbing a towel from the cabinet before hopping in. while washing your body, you begin thinking about what you’re gonna wear. you start to think about what ellie williams would notice you in, before laughing at yourself for being so delusional. she doesn’t know you, or care about you.

you’re just another girl.

hours had gone by, liliana and her boyfriend were hanging out at your shared apartment, pregaming and getting ready. the festival started at 4, and ended at 10. “hey y/n? where’s the-“ you walk in, and liliana is making a gawking face. “you look SO hot hello?” beaming at you. partially, you feel a little silly. you’re wearing the outfit she picked for you: a lacy cami, short black skirt, and a leather jacket. you have dark smudgey eye makeup, dark red lipstick, and star clips in your hair.

“i feel dumb.” you say, looking down and laughing at yourself. you never wore revealing clothes, being wayyyy too insecure to show yourself off this this. i mean, your boobs were spilling out of your shirt, your ass visible under your skirt, and your stomach uncovered. “shut the fuck up, you look good. we gotta leave soon- shit wait do you have pasties?”

as andrew drives the three of you to the concert, liliana in the front and you in the back, you become nervous. what if someone’s mean? what if something bad happens? what if it gets too cold? what if you start your period?

“y/n?” the calling of your name makes your head perk up. “we’re putting on that ellie chick, gotta know some of the music if you’re gonna SMASH her tonight!!” she says with a giggle. you roll your eyes as lili goes to her music app and selects her top song.

she’s my drug

the title pops up along with a photo of ellie lighting what looks like a joint. the song starts and it eases your nerves, her raspy voice over the melodic electric guitar makes a perfect combination. the excitement for the festival grows once again as the three of you near the festival.

you were kinda surprised at the amount of people that came. it looked like the entire town was there. there were a lot of unfamiliar faces wearing the bands merch. you saw a lot of girls wearing shirts with ellie williams’ tour dates on the back. “i hope the bands aren’t shit.” andrew says, laughing and getting out of the car. “at least we know one of the performers isn’t.” the three of you, out of the car, walk to the entrance. there were old-looking metal detectors that look like they were borrowed from the local police department. you all go through and have your bags checked and tickets scanned, walking towards the one and only stage.

the first band, behind the anger, got on stage. not many people were going crazy, but there were a few drunken men screaming their songs. liliana and andrew were enjoying them, but you were dying for something to drink, craving a shitty festival cocktail and a cigarette. tapping liliana on the shoulder, “hey, guys? i’ll be right back, i’m gonna grab something to drink.” you shout over the music. “alright, don’t take too long! your girlfriend should be out soon!” you roll your eyes laughing and shuffle your way out of the crowd.

walking up to the one and only vendor, you gaze on the menu. different beers, seltzers, cocktails, and liquors. “can i just cut infront of you? i gotta get up there soon.” you hear a voice behind you say. you turn around, partially offended and, holy shit.

it felt like a movie, a book, a fanfiction. what are the chances that she’s infront of you right now? you blink your eyes, not really believing what you’re seeing. nobody’s around you two besides the vendor, shocking as you’d expect girls flocking around her. it’s her. it’s ellie williams.

“excuse me?” you blurt out, not realizing how rude you sounded. i mean, you were just standing there, the only one in line, not moving. was it rude for her to ask. she kind of laughs at you, kissing her teeth. you got a good chance to look at her. she’s wearing cargo pants with a black wifebeater shirt that lifted slightly, allowing you to see what looks like abs, her tattoo covering her forearm, and her hair tied messily in a half-bun.

“i said,” she says, taking a half step towards you, “can i just cut infront of you?” you look around, dumbfounded. “no, you can’t. i’m ordering right now.” you say, matter-of-factly. you spin on your heels and order whatever shitty cocktail your eyes first land on and she chuckles at your behavior. the vendor types it into his tablet. “that’ll be $9.24. cash or card?” you open your purse, looking for the $10 bill you stuck in your purse for this exact reason. of course, like a fucking movie, it’s gone. “sorry just give me one sec.” you say, furiously looking through your purse, embarrassed.

“i got it, put it with mine. lemme get a rum coke.” the girl says flatly, slightly pushing you aside. you roll your eyes at the push and step aside, very embarrassed at the entire interaction. you grab a cigarette from your purse and attempt to light it, but the fluid is all out.

of course. how much more cliché could this get? ellie puts her card away in her wallet and shoves it into her front pocket as the vendor goes to make the two drinks. “need help?” she says, reaching her hand into her pocket and getting out a lighter, it was black and very scratched up. “these are bad for you, y’know?” she says in a cocky tone before grabbing her own and lighting it. the two of you were so far away from the rest of the crowd it that it was almost quiet.

“i’m studying to be a doctor, i know.” you say, the cigarette hanging limply between your lips still attempting to light it. “what’s a smart girl like you doing smoking and drinking then huh? you’re the one who’s supposed to tell people not to.” she says, bringing the lighter to the stick in your mouth and lighting it for you, the closeness of your face to her hands making you nervous. “pineapple cocktail and a rum coke?” you hear the vendor shout; the moment breaks and ellie pushes the lighter into her pocket before grabbing the two drinks, handing you yours before turning around and waving slightly, with the cigarette in her mouth.

“see you up there, doll.”

“bitch you will not believe what just happened” you say, finally making it back to where andrew and liliana were after having to shove through the crowd, almost spilling your drink all over yourself. “i just spoke t-“ the sound of screams interrupts your sentence and people push you and your friends forward, trying to get closer to the stage. you look up to see what is making people so eager, and see her. and holy shit, does she look good on stage. “how are we doing tonight, goldwhit grove?” she says into the mic, making the squeals of the girls around you erupt even louder, some drunkenly trying to take their shirts off before their more sober friends stop them.

after speaking into the mic for a bit about god knows what, you could barely hear her, she strums her guitar making people scream even louder. “what should we start out with?” she slurs into the mic. she looks like she’s on something, but what musician isn’t. you hear people screaming different names you haven’t heard of, before she says “she’s my drug? that’s all yall wanna hear.” she laughs before starting the song. it is her top song for a reason, it sounds phenomenal. you’re trying to enjoy your time, but the amount of people pushing you and stepping on your feet is annoying you.

after a few songs you hear her voice echo, “guys, let’s back it up a bit, you’re crushing people.” part of you wants to think she said that because she was looking at you, but you reality check yourself quickly. nobody listened, and you feel someone step on your heel for the hundredth time, finally deciding to say something.

“did you not hear her? i can barely breathe dude chill out.” you say to the drunken girl behind you. she looks angry, angry that you had the balls to speak up. she shoves you aggressively, making you bump into the person in front of you. now they’re mad at you too, for bumping into them so harshly. you try defending yourself when you feel a cold drink splashed on your chest. your final straw.

you shove your way out of the crowd, leaving behind your friends and deciding you’ll wait until ellie’s performance is over to join them again. once youre out, you make eye contact with the girl on stage. she has her head low and it almost looked like she was looking at you. you get lost on her, she’s playing so aggressively but strategically. before your imagination goes too far, you see her look around to the rest of the crowd, girls screaming when they look her direction.

you walk away, deciding to take a seat on the grass and light a cigarette while you wait. there were a lot of other people sitting around you, assuming they left for the same reason. you’re scrolling mindlessly on your phone until you hear a familiar voice.

“y/n?”

you look up, and it’s her. why the fuck did she have to be here? you were actually enjoying yourself, besides the few rude people, and she had to show up and ruin it all.

“what the fuck are you doing here abby?” you spit out. you’re furious. you haven’t spoken to her in a few weeks, and there were actually days you didn’t think about her at all. “hey, i was just trying to be nice. what are you all butt hurt about?” she says, towering over you sitting on the grass. she always made you feel small, not just physically, but mentally too. you sigh, not wanting to let her control your emotions any longer. the partially-distant sound of ellie’s guitar stopped, making it seem so much more quiet.

“you here with ava?” you spit out at her. she looks like she took that offensively, even though she was the one who cheated on you. “what’s that supposed to mean?” she says back, her tone becoming more aggressive. you push your cigarette into the grass, putting it out and standing up. “what are you wearing?” now that you’re closer, you notice her cheeks are red, and so are her eyes. she’s crossed. you know how she acts when she’s drunk, so you simply gather your things, trying to ignore the entire situation and join your friends. the people who were previously around you had gotten up to go back to the stage as ellie had gotten off.

“where are you going?” it sounds like she expects you to stay. to come running back. to cling to her. “to my friends.” you flatly state while walking away. you feel a hand grab your wrist. “i’m talking to you, y/n. it’s rude to walk away from people when they’re talking to you, y’know?” her tone is that of mockery. like you’re a child and she’s trying to teach you a lesson. “did the breakup make you gain that much weight? god i really ruined you huh?” you try to yank your hand away, “let go of me abby, seriously it’s not funny.” her grip doesn’t subside and only grows stronger, making you wince.

“she said no dude, can you not take a hint?”

you turn around and see ellie walking towards the conflict. this is so cliche. “are you a groupie now?” abby laughs at you, and as soon as she says that ellie shoves her off. as attractive as ellie was, abby was stronger. she was built, and she could take down almost anyone. “stop, this is dumb.” you say as they get close to each other. “yeah, yeah it is. don’t know why i’m getting all mad over a groupie slut. you can have her.” she says, walking out of the venue. you see a ditsy blonde girl following after her asking if she’s okay as she furiously walks, not responding to her. you try not to cry at her words, why does she still have such an effect on you?

“you okay?” you hear ellie asking you, almost forgetting she was there. “yeah- yeah. sorry about that. and thank you.” you say, extremely embarrassed while wiping your tears. she’s just looking at you. not saying anything. she didn’t know what to say.

“wanna go get a drink to cheer you up?”

that’s how you ended up in a random bar, with ellie fucking williams. after she asked you to drinks, she took you to the back stage, careful not to be spotted by any fans, where she grabbed her bags and headed for the exit. she was able to sober up before the ride home. while walking out, girls spotted her, running up and asking for her auto graph. she obliged for a few until one asked to sign her boobs, “i gotta go, girls.” her bodyguards following behind the two of you making them back off. you were expecting a van or a car, but no.

she rides a motorcycle.

she just got hotter.

lifting the seat, she tosses her bag into the large compartment, replacing the extra helmet which she handed to you. your heart was racing, you’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before. you nervously put the helmet on your head. “here, lemme help.” she says, pulling the band tightening the helmet ensuring it’s on tight, before tapping it lightly and swinging a leg over her motorcycle. she reached her bent elbow out, waiting for you to use her to help you get on. you grab onto her arm and swing your leg over, getting more comfortable.

“hold on.”

“so where’d you hear my music?” she says, babysitting another rum and coke looking at you intently. she was careful not to drink too much knowing she had to drive home. the two of you had been at the bar for two hours, just talking. a few people coming up every so often to get her autograph. “i actually just only heard about it the other day, through the festival.” you say shyly, hoping she won’t take offense. she laughs softly looking down. “i guess it’s a good thing for me huh? got another monthly listener and a pretty girl talking to me.” everything she says is so blunt, so easy.

you start to wonder how many other girls she’s charmed with the same line.

“wanna head out?” she says. “you can come back to mine- fuck, i can take you to yours. sorry, that sounded desperate.” she laughs, picking up the two helmets and your purse, handing it to you. with the bill paid, the two of you walked to her bike. she opens the door and waits for you to walk through.

“why don’t we go back to yours?” you say boldly. she looks surprised, and sets her helmet on her bike, placing yours gently on your head. she puts hers on, hops on the bike, and helps you get on.

“alrighty.”

you didn’t know how much you’d actually like being on a motorcycle. there’s so much adrenaline, she’s speeding through cars and air is whipping around the helmet. your chest is pushed tightly to her back, your hands wrapped around her waist. luckily, her wearing her helmet made it impossible for people to spot her, making it an easy ride back to her hotel, the only hotel in town. parking her bike in a designated spot, she holds her arm out allowing you to slide off easily, her following behind you. she opens up the bikes seat, grabbing her backpack, and locks it.

“we should hurry before someone spots you!” you giggle. the alcohol making you feel so light and ditsy, following her to her room like a lost puppy. she pulls the key out and unlocks it, holding the door for you and locking it after you. she tosses her things on the hotels desk as you lay down on her bed. smiling to yourself.

“what’cha smiling about pretty girl?”

you giggle, tapping the bed indicating her to lay next to you. “this doesn’t feel real” you laugh out as she crawls on the bed, “i mean, im living every gay girls dream right now, hello? i’m in a hotel with ellie *hic* williams!!” she laughs at your drunken state, reaching to the bedside mini fridge to grab a seltzer. “you’re cute, y/n”. your ears kinda perk up, not remembering when you told her your name.

“how do you know my name?” you say, squinting your eyes at her. she cracks open the can. “calm down, princess, i heard it when that dick was talking to you earlier.” you notice she becomes a little annoyed. “i’m glad i took money out of her pocket but fuck, i got douches at my show.” she takes a long drink from her can. your rose-colored glasses didn’t even care about abby right now, or how much ellie hated her from their first interaction, you just wanted more of her.

you snuggle closer to her, wanting to breathe her in. you’re on the left side of her, laying on your side as she’s on her back. the level of intimacy between the two of you makes your head spin. you guys just met. part of you feels bad that she, a fucking rockstar, probably wants more than a simple conversation and cuddling. you sit up slightly, trying to remove your shirt, “hey, what are you doing?” she says, looking confused. you’re struggling to take your shirt off, it being tight and you being drunk. “feel bad. you probably get girls eeeeveryday doin this.. know why you’s wanted m’here so- so i’ll do it.” your works are slurring and hardly making sense and you’re starting to get frustrated. partially from not being able to take off the uncomfortable shirt, and part from not wanted anything sexual now, not in this state and not when you hardly know her.

she grabs your hands and stops you, making you look at her. “hey, i don’t wanna do anything, ‘kay? we can watch a movie after i get you some clothes to change into.” you put your arms down watching her get up and get an oversized band tee. “don’know if it’ll fit, els.” you say, sadly. she turns around, waiting for you to try it on. “just try it, princess.” you try taking the shirt off again, but just can’t. you get so frustrated you start tearing up, making her turn around and help you. “m’gonna take it off okay?” you nod, lifting your arms as she helps you take your shirt off. “don’t look!!” you say, laughing and pushing her away. she turns around, laughing, “okay, okay” allowing you to put the shirt on and take your bra off from under the shirt. finally, you slip your skirt off.

“done!” you say, smiling watching her turn around as she makes eye contact with you, her face turning pink. she walks towards you, smiling down at you on the bed. “wanna watch a movie?” she asks, picking up a remote and a bag of what looks like joints, pulling one out along with the lighter in her pocket. you nod, asking “can i have one?” she closes the bag, replying “you’re way too drunk, sweetheart.” she flicks on the tv, putting on whatever shitty movie was playing on the hotel tv at the time. you both crawl under the bed, cuddling up into her. you hear a familiar click of the lighter, and the sound of the paper and weed burning. she plays with your hair, making you more and more sleepy, drifting off into a deep sleep state.

the next morning, you wake up unsure of where you are. you look around the room, its messy and there’s clothes, food, and drinks everywhere. you lift your head and look to the right and see none other, than ellie williams.

what the fuck happened last night?

#ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams fluff #eillie williams x reader #rockstar ellie #rockstar gf #ellie williams smut

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 10 months ago

Text

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 7

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, bit of smut.

Word Count: 4,813

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Chapter 7 has arrived. 😊 I hope you enjoy it! Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading, liking, commenting and reblogging this series! It means SO much! ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Three and a half weeks later

“And these would be beside every tent?” Dean asked Brandy as he looked at the rough drawings she’d made of her latest idea.

She nodded. “Yeah, on the West side of every tent. It would mean families don’t have to come to Food Storage every few days for more rations, and once the deep snow comes that’s gonna be a huge benefit for folks. Plus it’s easier for people to plan ahead and stretch their food if they have two weeks worth of rations sitting outside their tent. I mean, it won’t work once spring comes, but that’s a problem for spring.”

Dean nodded. He looked at their builders, the group of half a dozen survivors that were tasked with providing new buildings and necessities as the camp required. They’d built the sheds earlier in the year, the chicken coop last summer and were currently finishing up a small barn for the cow.

“Is this gonna interfere with completing the barn?” He asked, nodding at Brandy’s drawings.

One of the women, he was pretty sure her name was Vanessa, shook her head. “No, we’ll be finished with the barn in a couple of days, and be able to get Lily settled for the winter all snug, and then move on to the food sheds.” She looked at the drawing again and shrugged. “They’re small enough that we should be able to get them all done within a few weeks?”

She looked to the rest of the builders who nodded their agreement.

Dean frowned. “Lily?”

Vanessa grinned. “Yeah, sorry that’s what the kids have dubbed our little cow. Y/N has them going to visit her once a week so Ralph can teach them about farming.” She said, referring to the old farmer who had helped to plant the winter vegetables.

Dean felt his stomach twist as it always did when someone brought up her name. But he just nodded. “Okay, good. Get started on the food sheds as soon as you’re able. The deep snow is gonna come in the next couple weeks. It’d be good to have them all done by then.”

They all gave a chorus of “Okay, Boss” or “Sure thing Boss” as they nodded and took their leave. They wrapped their scarves tight and pulled on their mittens. The deep snow may not have come yet, but the ground was layered in white, and winter was sharp and stinging in the late November air.

Brandy gathered up her drawings and was headed out when Dean called her back.

“Brandy?”

She turned back to him, an eyebrow raised in question. They'd never discussed their meeting in the cabin with Y/N, but he'd noticed a slightly colder demeanor from her lately.

And he knew why, of course.

Brandy had been one of the original dozen survivors who had built the camp together. She'd been an incredible asset from the beginning, and they probably wouldn't have survived without her planning and strategies for running the camp. He and the soldiers may have kept the survivors alive, but Brandy kept them living by organizing and planning for their food and shelter. She was an invaluable member of the camp.

But three weeks ago he'd treated her like a servant meant to do his bidding. He knew he owed her an apology, but it had been so long since he'd apologized for anything that it stuck in his throat.

Now she contemplated him, waiting for him to speak, and he just nodded. He pointed towards her drawings.

“This is a good idea.” He cleared his throat. “So, thanks.”

Brandy stared a moment longer before a small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. She nodded.

“No problem, Boss. That's what we're all here for, right?”

Dean just nodded and she lifted her scarf over her face and left the big cabin where Dean conducted most of his business these days, since it was warmer than his tent and could fit more people.

As he ran a hand over his face, the door opened again and most of his soldiers tromped inside. They were there to talk about security and possible threats, but Dean immediately looked at Johnston.

“Hey, did you tell her I want to see her?”

The thin man nodded vigorously. “Yes sir. I told her yesterday. Has…has she not come to see you yet?” He looked around the room as though Y/N might be hiding somewhere.

Dean shook his head. “No, she hasn't.” He pointed towards the door. “So why don't you go get her and tell her I expect to see her now.”

Johnston looked wary and as though he definitely didn't want to follow that order. But when Dean just stared him down, he turned and left quickly.

The rest of his soldiers began giving their reports about any problems they were having at the outposts, like equipment that needed repair or items that needed replenishing. But Dean was only half listening; his gaze kept straying to the door, waiting for Y/N to show.

Ten minutes later, Patrick was briefing him and Dean tried to focus on what he was saying.

“Williams has seen the group twice now, but -” Patrick cut himself off as Y/N and Johnston pushed through the door.

Y/N smiled at the soldiers as she came in. “Sorry to interrupt, but apparently I was summoned.”

She cut her glance to Dean and her smile turned brittle.

“I was told you needed to see me.”

“Yeah, since yesterday.” Dean responded, hardening his voice in an attempt to not seem desperate, especially in front of his soldiers.

“Sorry. Busy.” Was Y/N's curt reply. “What do you need?”

Dean took a deep breath. “I just wanted to know how you're -” he altered his words, “your school, or, uh, the school was going?”

Y/N paused for a moment before answering with a shrug.

“Fine.”

When it was clear that was all she was going to say, Dean scowled at her. “You wanna elaborate on that?”

She raised her chin a fraction. “Oh, I'm sorry, Boss, I don’t have anything else to say right now, but I’ll be sure to write out a full report for next week.”

Her eyes shot daggers that found their mark, bringing a pain to his chest that he felt a lot these days. He’d thought it might go away if he could talk to her, see her, but it was just worse with her there.

He shook his head. “That won't be necessary.” He said quietly.

“Anything else then, Sir?”

He'd never hated that moniker more. “No, that's it.”

She spun on her heel and walked out of the cabin. Silence reigned when she left. Dean waved at everyone else. “We'll finish this another time.” When they didn't immediately move, he made his voice a bit sharper.

“Dismissed.”

That got them moving and they all shuffled their way out the door - all except Risa. She closed the door behind her fellow soldiers and then turned back to face Dean.

He caught her eye and lifted his hands. “What?”

She shook her head slowly. “You're such an idiot.”

Dean dropped his hands and raised an eyebrow. “Wanna try that again?”

Risa shook her head as she walked back to him. “No, I said what I said.”

Dean gave her a look of annoyance as she reached him and leaned one hip on the table where he stood. She raised her hand to his cheek, her countenance softening.

“I really wanted to be the one.”

Dean scowled in confusion. “The one what?”

Risa pushed her fingers through his short hair. “The one to make you smile.” There was a long pause between them and Dean had no idea how to respond to that. She shook her head and stood up straight, dropping her hand. “But, it was obviously meant to be her.”

Dean scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You know I'm talking about Y/N.”

He gave a short burst of sarcastic, humorless laughter. “Yeah, right. You think Y/N's gonna make me smile? I've done nothing but pull my hair out since she got here, so ..” He trailed off and looked away from Risa's knowing gaze.

Risa nodded. “Yeah, cause you're an idiot.” She reiterated.

When he looked back at her, Risa was smiling softly and wistfully. “Apologize to her, idiot. Try to get back what you've nearly lost. She's pissed, don't get me wrong, it might take some real groveling on your part but,” she nodded, “she has a very kind heart, so she might forgive you. It's definitely worth a try.”

Dean stared at her for a moment before he looked down at the ground, conceding the truth in her words. “I don't know how to do it.”

Risa gave a gentle laugh. “You're a smart guy. Bet you'll figure it out.”

She put her hand on his cheek again, resting the other on his chest as she stood on tiptoe to reach his lips. She placed a light, lingering kiss there and then pulled away.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean felt a jolt of worry at the farewell. “You’re leaving? Am I losing a soldier?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, the soldier is staying. I'm saying goodbye to the woman I wanted to be for you. And the man that she…cared about a lot. I hope he lets himself be happy.”

Dean frowned, feeling the weight of her goodbye, with all of its disappointed hopes.

“Goodbye Risa.” He said, and knowing it wasn't enough, he cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her lips, light and brief. “Thank you…for being the woman you are.”

He thought he saw a glimmer of moisture in her eye, but she blinked it away quickly and pulled out from under his hands. She moved to the door in a few strides and, with one last smile thrown over her shoulder, she walked away.

***

That afternoon as the winter sun headed into the west, Dean made the decision to go talk to Y/N. This was ridiculous. They were a camp of less than 150 people, continuing to try and avoid each other was impractical.

He'd just go tell her that.

He walked to the school because she was usually still there this time of day. But when he got there, the schoolroom was empty. He looked around the space that he hadn't seen in over a month and had to shake his head.

What had been a cold empty shed not even three months ago was now a warm, inviting, cozy space. She'd had a little camp stove installed, and on the Northern wall, replacing the fall leaves that had been there, was a giant, beautifully sewn quilt. He recognized it as the same design as the one that hung in the big cabin.

Hannah, who was Ralph-the-farmer's wife, had made it out of old scraps of material. It took a long time to gather enough scraps for a whole quilt so he knew this quilt probably took her months of hard work. But of course she'd gifted it to Y/N and the school. That's what Y/N brought out in people - hard work and generosity.

The small wooden table in the room had four chairs around it now and he wondered where she'd snagged the other two chairs.

The kids’ blanket seating had been enhanced slightly with the addition of a few pillows, and on the western wall, beside the old map, two long, weathered planks of wood had been nailed in place to serve as bookshelves. The books he'd brought back had been placed lovingly on the shelves, not a single corner bent on any of them.

He sighed at the changes and felt a warmth flare to life in his heart. Y/N did this too - seeming to warm the spaces around her without trying.

He walked out of the schoolroom and was just starting to walk back to his tent when he heard high pitched giggles coming from the side of the school just seconds before three small bodies hurtled forward, chasing and grabbing on to one another - Emma and her two little friends. He couldn't remember their names.

When they all saw him, the laughter fell away and Emma's eyes got wide, fear and suspicion filling them instantly. It felt like a punch when he remembered the way she'd climbed up on the chair beside him that one time, shy acceptance in her expression as she asked him to read to her.

He hated that she was so scared of him; he had to try and fix that much, at least.

“Hi girls.” He said in what he hoped was a friendly sounding voice. Emma's friends nodded and waved at him slightly. But Emma stayed on high alert.

He looked at her two friends. “I need to talk to Emma, so you girls head on home now.”

They looked to Emma who looked more scared than ever. But she whispered goodbye to them and they ran off.

Dean got a bit closer to her and went down on his haunches. He took a second to think what to say to her.

“You know, you don't have to be scared of me.”

“I'm not.” Emma said quickly while her big blue eyes were shrouded in fear.

Dean nodded. “Okay, good because…” He struggled to find the words that would help. “Cause I thought maybe I scared you a bit before. When I, uh, needed to talk to your mom alone.”

Emma nodded, the suspicion growing in her gaze. “When you were mad at Mommy.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I wasn't mad.”

Emma gave him a look that said she didn't believe him and he conceded with a nod.

“Okay, I was a little…upset, but I was just…confused. Eventually everything got figured out.”

She didn't say anything, clearly still highly skeptical.

Dean took a deep breath and decided to just go for it. “Anyway, I didn't mean to scare you and I'm…sorry about it.” He cleared his throat. “And I promise not to scare you like that again. Okay?”

Emma stared at him for a long time and he kept hold of her earnest blue gaze throughout her scrutiny. Slowly a smile spread across her face.

“Okay.” She said, accepting him at his word. “Then can you come over again for supper tonight? I can read a bunch of words now, mommy taught me in the books. So, I could help you read the story this time.”

Dean shook his head at the speedy ways of forgiveness in a child's heart, and for the first time in more years than he could remember, a small smile turned up one side of his mouth.

He reached out to pat her cold cheek. “I'm not sure, kiddo. We'll have to wait and see.” Emma was about to argue the point but Dean stood up. “Now it's gonna be dark soon and it's way too cold for you to be out here without a scarf. Don't you have one?” He asked.

Emma nodded. “Yeah, but I don't like it. It itches.”

Dean hummed. “Ah, yeah wool does that sometimes.” He unwound his own scarf from around his neck.

“Here, I'll trade you.” He said as he wound the polyester scarf around her neck and up over her cheeks. “Now, you head home.”

Emma's eyes were bright and happy above her new scarf as she danced away, skipping through the light snow that blanketed the ground.

He watched her go for a moment before turning back to head home himself. But he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Y/N standing in the path with an arm full of wood. Silence reigned for nearly a full minute. Finally he reached forward to take the wood, but Y/N shook her head.

“No, I’m fine.” She nodded toward the school. “Just stocking up for tomorrow.”

“Right.”

More silence. Y/N’s voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “Thank you for the scarf. It’s been impossible to get her to wear one.”

He nodded and then realized something. “How long were you standing there?”

Y/N took a deep breath, answering on an exhale. “Since just before you promised my daughter not to scare the shit out of her again.”

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. “So, basically the whole time.”

“Yeah, basically.” She took a beat pause. “Thank you for that.”

Dean nodded. She walked towards the school again but before she could close the door and shut him out, Dean called to her, knowing his voice sounded desperate.

“I needed to believe it.”

Y/N turned in the doorway, a frown on her face. “Needed to believe what?”

He took a step closer, feeling choked by all the words he wanted to say that wouldn’t form properly in his mind. Y/N stared at him for a moment more before huffing slightly and walking into the schoolroom. He followed her inside, closing the door against the wind as she dropped the pile of wood into a metal bucket by the stove.

When she turned back to face him, she was scowling. “Dean, I don’t know what you want here. What do you want me to say?”

He shook his head. He didn’t want her to say anything. He wanted to say things, so many things. “No, nothing.” He croaked out.

She crossed her arms over her chest, bunching up her too big jacket. “Then what are you doing here?”

He took deep breaths in through his nose, pushing the words out through a closed throat. “I needed to believe it.” He said again, quieter this time.

“Believe what?” Y/N asked in frustration.

He stepped close to her and she took a step back before refusing to retreat. He gazed at her and wished more than anything that she really could just see inside his head so he wouldn’t have to try and get it out.

But he looked at the ground quickly and then back at her. His breathing was slightly labored and his voice was thin as he spoke. “You’re so dangerous to me, Y/N.”

He knew he said the wrong words when her forehead wrinkled into a deep frown and she nodded. “Because - I’m a psychic monster? Or because I’m a croat? Why exactly am I dangerous this time?”

“Because you’re you.” Dean answered loudly, speaking over the end of her question. He sighed in frustration; he was getting all of this wrong. He looked up to the heavens, as though they could possibly help him, and tried again, speaking softer.

“I needed to believe that you could control my mind or my…my feelings because…” He trailed off and looked at Y/N hoping she’d just know what he was saying and finish the sentence for him. But she was still just frowning in confusion.

“Because,” he continued, “my feelings when I'm around you are…dangerous. For me, I mean, they’re dangerous. Y/N I can’t…” He shook his head. “The way you look at the world? And the way you change how I see it too? It’s so fucking dangerous.”

He waved his hand, trying to encompass everything. “This world is ugly and shitty, and fucking ended! We literally lived through the end of the world, and now all that’s left is this - this dark, violent, bullshit reality.”

He shook his head and his voice was filled with awe. “Yet somehow you move through it like this,” again he struggled for the words to describe her, “like some kind of lighthouse, like a refuge for every cold, lost thing. And I - “

He cut himself off, not sure he was making any sense. But Y/N had stopped frowning and was now just contemplating him.

He shrugged. “And when I’m around you, I feel warmer than I’ve felt in years, brighter.” He shook his head and moved away from her, embarrassed by his confession and knowing he wasn't saying it right.

He stared at the map as he spoke. “So, I needed to believe that the feelings weren’t real, that you’d just forced me to feel that way. Because if the feelings and thoughts you bring out of me are real?” His shoulders slumped. “God, I’m so fucked.”

He felt Y/N come up to stand just behind him on his right, but he stayed staring at the map as she spoke.

“Why? What’s so dangerous about warmth and light?”

His voice was barely audible as he answered slowly. “Because they bring hope. And hope is a lie. It’s a lie I believed for a long time, a lie I clung to. The lie of possibilities, of family, of good conquering evil. And when the lie was revealed and the world fell apart, the truth almost killed me.”

After a moment he turned to face her and felt his heart skip as he saw her expression of sadness and the tears that sparkled in her eyes, even in the growing dusk.

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek and thumbed away a tear as it fell over her bottom lashes. “And Y/N, if I allow myself to hope again, and it gets crushed by the world again…” He shook his head. “I won’t survive it, I know I won’t.”

He took a step closer to her and felt her warmth penetrating his cold bones. She grabbed his free hand and held it in both of hers as he dropped his other hand from her cheek.

“Or…” she said, her voice filled with conviction, “or we can both hope, both fight, and both win. Even if we never get big wins, the little ones still count. And they add up. Every day we’re here alive is a win. Every time we smile at someone and they smile back is a win. Every time the sun shines so bright you have to close your eyes, every time we hear Emma giggle, every time our stomachs are full, every time we do something to make our home here better - every small thing adds up to big wins.”

Dean shook his head. He knew that trying to resist the pull of her light and life was pointless; she’d been pulling him out of the dark, and changing his plans since the moment she’d come into his life.

He used their connected hands to pull her tight against him and watched heat enter her beautiful, red-ringed eyes.

He bent his head, but before his lips touched hers, he whispered words that came much easier now. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. For all of it. I’m so sorry.”

Another tear fell down her cheek and she smiled and bit her lip. “If I say you’re forgiven will you kiss me?”

He pretended to mull it over and then nodded. “Yes, I think that’s fair.”

In the dusky twilight around them he pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers; his arms tightened around her as she moaned softly.

He was definitely counting that sound as a win.

***

Over the next month Dean resumed his dinners with Y/N, the difference being that he was there nearly every night, and he’d stopped pretending to himself that he didn’t relish every moment with her and Emma.

Over the evenings spent together, Emma had warmed more and more to him so that now she ran to meet him every time he walked through their tent flap, holding her arms up so he’d pick her up and toss her up into the air, catching her in a swooping motion as she came down. It made Y/N gasp every time, but Emma squealed with delight. He’d set her down and she’d grab his hand, nearly three times the size of hers, and pull him over to the table.

He’d take off his heavy canvas jacket within the relative warmth of the tent, and drape it over Emma’s shoulders, making her giggle as she drowned inside it.

They’d sit around the table and share the day's events, though Emma usually did the majority of the talking. It always brought a mixture of feelings when he listened to her bubbly, excited stories. It made him happy and terrified at the same time. She was so precious he couldn’t help but smile, an expression that was becoming easier for him as the days went by. But also, his chest felt tight and he could feel terror creep in as the darkness whispered a warning, telling him that he couldn’t possibly keep her safe. He’d lose her, and Y/N too.

Sometimes that thought woke him from a deep sleep and made him shake and sweat. It was proving incredibly difficult to make all his fears go away. But as soon as he saw Y/N’s smile the next day, it felt easier.

In fact it was becoming increasingly difficult to go home at all, to leave her warm cozy tent and return to his dismal gray one. But they were trying to be careful and move slowly in deference to Emma. They didn’t want her to feel confused or unsure of things now that she finally seemed so at ease.

So they hid their kisses and their caresses until after Emma was sleeping, at which point they’d usually try and brave the cold long enough to enjoy some alone time, even if it was encumbered by bulky jackets and scarves. They never had enough time, but they’d managed slightly more satisfactory make out sessions in the empty school and in Dean’s tent. But they were always too rushed and things had to end too quickly.

Dean ached for her more and more every day.

One evening in mid December, the air was much milder than usual; the day had been unseasonably warm and the night held on to a trace of it. Dean had Y/N pressed up against the side of the thick canvas tent, sucking on the soft skin just below her ear. As her breath caught and she angled her head so that he had better access, he was practically vibrating with how badly he needed to feel her.

As he breathed into her mouth, he slowly unzipped her jeans, letting her tell him no if she wanted. But she just nodded and bit her lip.

He watched her face as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of the leggings she wore as an extra layer against the cold, and then down into her panties. He desperately tried to stifle the moan that wanted to escape as he felt how soaking wet she was for him.

“Goddamn.” He whispered roughly as he slid two fingers inside her, rubbing his thumb against her little bundle of nerves and making her bite harder into her lip to keep quiet. He decided to help her out and closed his mouth over hers, swallowing up her small moans.

He pushed in and out of her body, his cock hardening as she gripped his forearm where it disappeared into her pants while her cunt clenched tight around his fingers. He passed his fingers over her sweet spot a couple of times and she fell over the edge. She broke off their kiss to bury a scream in his neck, muffling it with his thick collar.

As she came down she clung to him, her hot breaths creating puffs of white in the cold air. She moved her hand to cup his hard on through his jeans and was just reaching for his zipper when they suddenly heard Cas’ voice inside the tent.

“Emma, where is your mother and Dean?”

Dean groaned. What the fuck? Y/N squeaked slightly and pulled her hand back, making him absolutely throb with need. He was gonna slaughter his best friend.

They were quickly righting their clothing when Emma's voice reached them, and it didn’t really sound like she’d been sleeping.

“They’re outside the tent, kissing each other.”

Y/N’s eyes got huge and round and Dean stifled a snorted laugh behind his palm while she slapped his bicep.

“It’s not funny. Jesus, we’re gonna traumatize her!” She said in a horrified whisper.

Suddenly Cas’ head poked around the side of the tent and he frowned. “Are you finished kissing?”

Y/N buried her head in Dean’s chest and Dean scowled at the angel. “Well, we sure as hell are now.”

Cas nodded, completely ignoring Dean’s frustration. “Good. You need to come inside. I have incredible news.”

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “What news, Cas?”

The angel’s smile was surprising in its rarity and it made Dean raise an eyebrow.

“I know why Y/N isn’t a psychic.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean winchester smut #endverse!dean series #endverse!dean fan fiction #dean winchester #dean x reader

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xximpressions · 1 year ago

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The Duchess (7)

Anthony Bridgerton x Duchess!reader

Series Summary: After coming into a title you did not expect, you have a chance encounter with a handsome rescuer.

Chapter Summary: You arrive at Clyvedon

Word Count: 1,404

A/N: Happy New Year!!!

Bridgerton Masterlist

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It never did occur to you how effortless your first few days at Clyvedon felt.

Though you were initially anxious upon your arrival to the lavish estate, the unexpectedly warm welcome you received from the Duke and his wife helped to alleviate such worries.

And the rest of the Bridgerton clan was also paramount in reducing such anxieties since the enthusiasm from a certain child could only be met with your own sincerity while also forcing you to put aside any lingering hesitance you subconsciously felt about being an imposing guest.

“Oh Duchess! I am so very glad you are here to stay with us!”

Exclaimed the young lady you were quickly becoming fond of.

“And I am so very glad to be here with you all, Miss Hyacinth! The honor is truly mine.”

You said with a curtsey and a smile following your arrival in the foyer.

“I am afraid,” interceded the Viscount, “that I must cut such a happy reunion short since I am sure the Duchess would like to get settled in her accommodations before dinner after such a tiresome journey here.”

“Indeed!” Echoed his eldest sister as she turned to direct her housekeeper.

“Mrs.Coulson, will you see her Grace to her room and ensure that she has everything she needs for her stay?”

While the older woman confirmed the necessary final arrangements with her house mistress, you took the chance to inconspicuously lean toward the Viscount in order to quietly whisper,

“It was my understanding that we had agreed to do away with such titles, did we not?”

Though he had to momentarily pause in order to tame his humored grin at your playful question, his amused hushed reply only came seconds later.

“Well, since my family happens to already be aware of the admiration I have for you, I thought it might be a bit impertinent to make it any more obvious.”

Looking at you from the corner of his eyes and directing a teasing smirk your way, he coyly finished by asking,

“Was that not correct of me, my Lady?”

Because you failed to contain the elated grin at his words, Anthony was able to catch a glimpse of the appreciation your external expression displayed at his sincere comment while you felt the internal blooming warmth of joy begin to spread within your chest at the honor of hearing yourself be referred to as such.

However, before either of you could dwell on your conversation any longer, you were being approached by the housekeeper.

“If you will come with me, your Grace, then I can show you to your room.”

With a nod and a thank you, you began to follow the woman named Mrs.Coulson.

As you took your leave from the foyer and the rest of those present began to disperse, the Lady of the house made sure to announce,

“Dinner will be in an hour, so we will all meet in the drawing room once everyone has finished changing.”

And with that final piece of information, you made your way up the stairs behind your guide.

Initially, the main emotion you felt at Aubrey Hall had been perplexion given the first time you had been seated for dinner with them at one of their country estates.

Because you had been raised by an elderly aunt all your life, most of the family meals you had any memory of essentially consisted of you sitting at different ends of a very long table in silence with your guardian since her frigidly cold demeanor made it explicitly clear that any words from you were not at all wanted, nor would they be at all appreciated.

So, because you had never dined in any other manner with the last of your kin, you suppose your mind had just assumed that all families conducted their meals in such a fashion.

Therefore, you found yourself pleasantly surprised during your first night at Aubrey Hall when it became more than obvious that the coldness you were unconsciously expecting simply did not exist in such genuine warmth.

Even when the inevitable sibling squabbles broke out between youngest and eldest alike, there was never any doubting the affection that clearly accompanied every insult.

Seeing the surprise on your face at such familiarity being allowed at the table, Lady Bridgerton commented with a touch of sheepishness,

“I know it may seem unfashionable, your Grace, but what can I say? We like each other!”

She finished with a shrug as well as a joyful and unapologetic smile that only grew more amused when her son-in-law, the Duke, followed up her statement by teasingly interjecting from his place at the head of the table,

“Most of the time.”

With a humourous smirk aimed at Lady Bridgerton as if speaking from a place of experience.

From that dinner onward, any lingering anxieties you had about being an imposing guest seemed to have vanished since the Basset’s and Bridgerton’s alike made it clear that your presence was not only welcomed, but it was undoubtedly wanted and thoroughly enjoyed each day that you were there.

By the end of your first week at the country estate you had happily fallen into the routine of being sociable with those that were present in the house.

In fact, it was actually becoming a bit of a tradition that after Lady Bridgerton escorted her younger children to bed following dinner, the remaining young adults would gather in the drawing room for a few drinks and some lighthearted conversation.

And on this particular evening, a full week after your original arrival, the drawing room was occupied by merely yourself sat on one couch, the Lord and Lady of the house sat across from you on the other, as well as Lord Bridgerton who was happily seated next to you.

And with the almost inaudible roar of the fireplace filling the dimly lit room, there was a very cozy atmosphere surrounding your group.

Currently, you all were struggling to hold in your laughter at the outburst Anthony had and was continuing to make after jumping up from the couch you shared with him.

When you had asked the Duchess how it was she found herself married to a Duke, you did not think any of you expected the Viscount to shoot up upon learning what fact truly brought his best friend and sister together as a couple.

“A ruse??” he exclaimed once more to everyone’s further amusement.

“Hastings?! You mean to tell me that I could have killed you for a ruse?!?” Anthony bewilderedly repeated with emphasis.

Having to hold back your tickled surprise after he sprung up with such a statement, the Duke only chose to reply to his friend with a teasing nonchalance.

“Oh please, Bridgerton. You have always been a terrible shot, so my life was never really in any danger.”

His accompanying smirk also let everyone know that all had truly been forgiven between the two.

Buzzing with intrigue as Anthony gave an indignant, but humored huff while returning to his seat, you could not help saying to the other Duchess in the room,

“What an exciting way to get betrothed! My own betrothal was more of a legal agreement than a proposal, and even then, it was my aunt who did the signing.” You finished with a chuckle that came out more weak than content.

The minute shift in the jovial mood at the reminder of the poor treatment you had received in your life from people you thought you could trust made you try to lift it again by happily continuing with saying,

“But alas! I am glad to hear it was love that brought you two together and not obligation.”

You said with a kind smile.

However, after the thought passed in the other Duchess’ head that your statement was not exactly true, a devious idea began to form in her mind as she replied by saying,

“Well, if you think about it, a thought-out ruse has already helped one debutante avoid an unsuitable suitor…so who is to say the same strategy could not work again?”

She questioned the room with a certain coyness while aiming a specifically delicate smile at her brother across the way to emphasize exactly where she was going with this.

And who was the Viscount to say no to such a brilliant idea that had already been proven to work once before?

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 1 year ago

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The Hope in the Fault Lines | Part 4

The final part....THIS HAS BEEN SO FUN. It's been a labor of love for sure, so I hope you read it and love it and reblog it and all the good things. I don’t have enough requests to have a tag list or anything so I’m relying on faith and prayers to get this in front of the ppl who liked the previous parts, so PLEASE REBLOG THIS 🥺 I’ll love you forever fr. Here are links to part 1, part 2, and part 3 if you haven't read them already! Warnings: references to child abuse (mentions of a father giving a daughter a black eye and references to a belt being used), reference to a past child custody battle, sexism, forced contact by abusive parents, drinking, grief, ptsd, some angst but just for a little, vanilla sex, oral (f receiving), I tried to leave a lot to the imagination because this was my first time writing any kind of smut, but still minors don't read or interact with it, police investigation. lmk if there's anything else! Word count: 13k (I AM SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY.)

Eleven months later

Time was funny.

Together, you, Sara, and Mingyu had watched the summer fade into a hazy autumn, where the leaves faded into gold and red and orange and then fell, leaving bare branches clawing at the sky with skinny fingers. The winter had been a long one — Christmas was nearly unbearable without Jeri and Jisung to keep you company. But spring prevailed, as it always did, and now you watched as the latest of the April blossoms popped through the surface of the earth.

It’s been almost a whole year since the accident. At the outset, your grief had been like a massive wall. It was hard to see around it, and pushing against it was useless. Now, the grief was still there, but had transformed into something more akin to a stray dog that followed you around. It was always present, but you could still move with it, and it wasn’t always unwelcome. The pain of loss had been tempered by the stretch of time, the therapy sessions faithfully attended every Tuesday morning, and the love that had grown between you and Sara.

At a year and a half, she toddled around clumsily still, but could run and jump and talk. She was extremely independent and energetic, and sometimes when she was displeased the look on her face was so reminiscent of Jeri that it made you pause. However, where before that would’ve made you cry, today it fills you with comfort. You also, surprisingly, saw yourself in her — she was adventurous and tenacious, and didn’t like to be told she couldn’t do something. But she was also sweet, cooing over even the beetles in the grass or the spiders in the corner. The force of your love for her was both surprising and strong, because when she’d first come into your life, you had felt uncertain you’d ever get the hang of being a parent. Now, you could hardly imagine life without her. She made each day full of an infinite meaning — everything you did now was for her.

And then, there was Mingyu. The relationship between you was sweet and easy and didn’t demand anything more from you than you could handle. You had learned early on how kind Mingyu was and how easy it was to talk to him, but you had come to know him even better over the time since your illness, and you had become endeared by his pouty expression when you teased him, the clumsiness you suspected was a result of becoming very big very fast and still not knowing his own strength, and the comforting timbre of his voice, as well as so much more. Mingyu made you feel like you never had to do anything by yourself, with a talent for drawing the vulnerability out of you when you were keeping yourself from being helped. And even though he was positive and upbeat most of the time, he never expected that from you. His grace in handling your down days was enough to convince you that in any other circumstance, this man would have been your perfect match, inside and out.

But the circumstances are what they are, and so you can’t let yourself give in to what you want. It has been a long time since Mingyu has held you — since the nightmare, in fact. Which, you remind yourself forcefully, is a good thing. It was professional of you to keep that physical distance. Because, Heaven help you, you were struggling to keep any emotional distance between you.

When Mingyu had come back to work after he’d stayed the night at your place that one fateful night, a pattern had begun. When you’d come home, Mingyu asked you about your day. You’d give him the low-down: “Emily dropped the pencil sharpener and thought I’d fire her…am I that scary?”, “we got a story with Brie Larsen,” “one of our writers is getting married in a few weeks and invited me”, and so on. Then you’d ask for his updates: “Sara ate a solid banana today,” “Bora and Morrie came over for a play date”, “I lost Sara for fifteen minutes today and found her in the massive drum of flour”. This usually kicked off an hours-long conversation full of teasing, laughter, and the occasional philosophical discussion that only ended when one of you mentioned Mingyu should go home and get some rest. The past eleven months of this behavior had only made you more and more drawn to Mingyu; it was how you learned he learned to cook from helping his mother in the kitchen, and that he also had a little sister whom he loved dearly, and about the friends from college he still saw frequently, all of whom he seemed to only have positive feelings for. You had started to wonder if there was a person he didn’t like. And all of this added up to you being absolutely smitten with him.

But you also keenly felt the guilt of having a crush on your nanny. After all, it felt like such a midlife-crisis move to pull. You tried to comfort yourself in the truth that Mingyu was usually the instigator whenever the both of you rocketed over those carefully drawn lines in the proverbial sand, but you knew it was also partially your responsibility, because you never talked to him about maintaining a more professional distance. The fact was, you didn’t want any more distance at all between you and Mingyu, but you understood how complicated it might be if someone who essentially made sure he could pay his bills confessed romantic feelings for him. Not that you’d ever take advantage of him, but it also felt unfair to put him in a situation where he had to trust you on that.

So you stayed as you were — for eleven months that had proven to put you through every emotion on the spectrum. You laughed at Mingyu, you competed against Mingyu, you wondered about Mingyu, you worried about Mingyu.

But most of all, you yearned for Mingyu.

You try not to let it show as you watch Sara play with her dolls in the living room, supplemented by the dollhouse Mingyu spent a whole day building for her. “Tomorrow’s the big day!” he says. “Are you excited?”

“I am,” you hedge, half-listening as Sara clumsily tucks a doll into its bed and says goodnight. “A little nervous, too.”

“Why are you nervous?” he asks. “You’ve practiced a lot. I almost have your speech memorized by now.”

You laugh. “It’s normal to be nervous, even when you’re prepared.”

He watches you carefully, noting how after a few moments of silence your eyes slip out of focus, miles away. After eleven months, Mingyu has learned that when you get like this, you are reliving a vivid memory inside your mind. The more this happens, the worse your dreams are later. So, after catching Sara before she whacks her head on the coffee table, he puts his hand on your knee so your mind connects to your body again. “Where were you this time?” he asks, releasing a squirming Sara to the floor, his gaze between you and her.

“My sister pep talking me before my valedictorian speech,” you say in a tiny voice.

“I didn’t know you were valedictorian!” Mingyu exclaims. “You were a huge nerd, weren’t you?”

“I still am,” you say, pretending to be scandalized. “Why do you think my magazine won an award for publishing? It certainly wasn’t because academic validation isn’t important to me.”

He laughs. “Your magazine won an award for publishing because it’s awesome. But I appreciate that you’re still trying to achieve academically even though you’re almost three years post-MBA.”

“I know when I’m being made fun of,” you sniff. “And I won’t have this from you, Mr. ‘I Flunked Out of Chemistry But They Still Let Me Play Basketball’ Kim Mingyu.”

Mingyu shoots you a reluctant grin. “I never should’ve told you that, first of all,” he says. “Secondly, despite all that, I think you would’ve liked me in high school.”

“I probably would’ve,” you admit. “You, however, would never have even looked at me in high school,” you say. “I had glasses, braces, the whole nine yards.”

He stretches, laughing. “I was into nerds, actually. Still am, in fact.” He smiles to himself, on cue with your heart turning all the way over in your chest.

You’re in dangerous territory, so you steer away. “Have you been practicing your ponytails?” you say seriously.

“Who do you think I am? Of course I have.”

“And you’re still not gonna show me what her hair looks like until the day of?”

“Of course not. It’s bad luck.”

You scoff. “I’m almost positive nobody thinks that.”

“I’m pretty sure I think that,” he counters.

“And I don’t even get to see her dress?” you ask.

“Not unless I get to see yours.”

You grin — this had been a constant “argument” since you’d come home with the dress bag, and you had denied his request to look at it. “What if I hate her dress?”

Mingyu shakes his head. “It’s impossible. She’s the cutest little girl in the world. So even if the dress sucks, she’s gonna look darling in it.”

“You make a good point,” you admit. “The dress doesn’t suck though, right?”

“You have so little faith in my taste,” Mingyu says, frowning. Then he lights up again and abruptly changes the subject. “Also, get this — Wonwoo says he’s gonna come and he’ll bring a girl.”

“Oh?” you say, lifting Sara off the ground as she reaches for one of the spark plugs in the wall. “Is it the same girl he brought home a couple weeks ago?” You’d become friends with Mingyu’s bespectacled, tech-savvy roommate due to occasional contact over the past almost-year, and the thought of him with a girl is sweet.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “But here’s the thing. He insisted — emphatically — that nothing was going on between them. They were just friends.”

“How long ago?”

“Like two weeks.”

“Maybe for one of them that’s true,” you suggest. “I mean, maybe he doesn’t like her like that.”

“No, he definitely does.”

“Okay, well, maybe she doesn’t like him like that.”

“Have you seen him?”

You laugh. “Have you seen yourself? I mean, if she hangs out at your place pretty often there’s really no reason she couldn’t like you too.”

Mingyu blushes, an uncharacteristically bashful move on his part, and you realize how much you’ve just given away. So you, blushing too, move over to Sara, beginning to play with her hands and let her grab at your necklace. “I should probably go,” Mingyu says. “Gotta be here early tomorrow to make sure you don’t sleep through your alarm again.”

“I only did that one time,” you protest. “And I don’t think I’ll sleep at all tonight.”

He makes a sympathetic noise. “Well, at least try, will you? It’s a big day for you, and you should be able to enjoy it.”

You smile up at him. “You’re right. Thank you, Mingyu. Say bye bye to Mingyu, Sara.”

“Bye, Googoo!!” Sara squeals — her endearing nickname for Mingyu.

She bounds over to him, and he sweeps her into his arms for a swift hug before setting her down gently. “Bye, Sara!”

***

“Wow,” Mingyu says, his eyes wide and mouth open.

You tug at the tight, silvery-blue fabric of the floor-length gown you wear, blushing. “Thanks.”

“You’re always pretty,” Mingyu begins, finally recovering from the shock of seeing you like this enough to speak.

“Oh, stop it,” you protest, hiding your face in your hands.

“But this is … wow,” he finishes.

Your face could not be warmer. “Please desist before I’m so embarrassed that I have to change.” You peek from behind your fingers at Mingyu, who is looking positively devastating in a suit and is holding Sara in her fluffy pink dress. He was right about her looking cute in anything, but the dress suits your sweet, sassy, rambunctious little girl. And, true to his word, he has tugged her hair into two adorable pigtails fitted with feathery pink bows to match the dress. “You did an amazing job with Sara.”

Mingyu finally tears his eyes away from you to look proudly at Sara’s outfit. “Never doubt me again,” he jokes.

“I never will,” you vow.

“Well, I think we need to leave,” Mingyu says. “I wonder what everyone will think about me arriving with the two prettiest girls at the party.”

You roll your eyes as you grab your things. “You’ll fit right in,” you tell him. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks,” he says, wrestling a grumpy Sara into her car seat. “Shall we?”

The party is a fancy affair. Big names in publishing mill around with your employees, some turning to greet you and offer words of congratulations when you walk in. Mingyu is impressed with how gracious and genuine you are with everyone, even the people you’re just being introduced to, his heart swelling with pride whenever you include him and Sara as a part of your introduction.

Sara is amazed at the surroundings, looking around the beautifully furnished hotel meeting room with its twinkling lights in an overstimulated stupor. Plenty of the female employees are talking and whispering at the sight of her in Mingyu’s arms, a few even venturing to approach him and play with Sara’s hands or feet. “So, are you her boyfriend?” A blonde in a stunning red dress asks, leaning in with hooded eyes.

“No, I’m just her nanny,” Mingyu says with a laugh. “Um, excuse me.”

You have to bite back a smile as Mingyu meets eyes with you nervously. “Meredith from accounting is zeroed in on you, I see,” you tease him.

“She’s very friendly,” Mingyu agrees. “I think I saw Wonwoo come in, though.”

You look toward the door. There he is — tall, slender, with his signature glasses and a shy but very happy smile, hand-in-hand with a pretty girl in a pink dress. “They look cozy,” you observe. “Say hi to him for me, will you? I need to get ready to speak to everyone.”

Mingyu gives you a prolonged look that makes you more nervous than even the impending speech before he answers, “sure thing, boss. Break a leg. You’ll be great.”

It feels surreal — all of these people are mostly people who you see every day, mingling with publishing giants and friends, and everything is different. After what feels like no time at all, you take the low stage to begin your speech.

You take a deep breath, looking in the crowd for two specific people, and it isn’t until you’ve met eyes with Mingyu, who is softly smiling at you, and aimed a wave at Sara, that you begin. “This award is something I’ve been working toward since we started the magazine. I naively thought that receiving this award would finally help me to feel like I belonged in this industry, or that all the time I’d spend slaving for this business was actually worth it.

“The past year, however, has been the absolute hardest of my life. As many of you know, my sister -- the person who encouraged me to start this business, and the person without whom many of you, including me, would probably not have jobs -- was killed in a hit-and-run accident a year ago Thursday. And when you go through something like that, well...your perspective on life definitely changes. I have always been a believer in the power of story, but because of the life-altering experiences I’ve had over the course of this brutal year, I gained new insight into the stories that we should be telling with the voices we have in the time that we have them. I’m convinced that the team’s vision aligning so well with this change in priorities is why I’m on this stage accepting this award. So I have some people to thank for this.”

You’re practiced enough that your voice only shakes a little as you begin this part. “Firstly, my editor, Cory, who not only held us together while I was completely incapacitated, but also understood perfectly how to make this thing into the kind of thing that wins awards like this. If this was a ship, Cory would be at the helm, and I’m so glad that we have someone who is a perfect navigator. Cory knows the metaphorical sea and stars like an albatross, and he deserves to be the one speaking to you today, but we drew lots and I got the short stick.” The crowd laughs, and in the audience, Cory raises his glass to you, his arm snaked around the waist of his new girlfriend Lele.

You smile at his gesture and continue. “Secondly, to my assistant, Emily. She was hired only one single month before the accident, and she has become indispensable to me. One thing you should know about her is that her desire to do everything she can for anyone who needs it is not just one of her biggest professional strengths, it is also one of her best personal ones. Her competence and kindness will take her far -- here or wherever she goes.” When you spot Emily, her eyes are streaming with tears, and she gives you a little apologetic shrug as she wipes her eyes.

“Thirdly, I cannot thank the writing team, the creative team, the social media team, and the editing staff enough for supporting me through my bereavement and continuing to do such excellent work. I am grateful to have hired the right people, so that I can be confident that this important work we do will not be stopped if I am stopped.”

Now, the final message -- the part you hadn’t shown Mingyu yet. Partially because you wanted to surprise him, and partially because you were terrified of what he would know about you because of it, and you wanted to prolong the moment. You steady yourself and press on. “Finally, there have been a number of people in my personal life without whom I couldn’t be here today. Friends who pulled me out of the mud, almost literally, neighbors who looked out for my lawn, the kindest friend who watches my beautiful niece while I come to work --” and at this point, you intentionally avoid Mingyu’s gaze, “and Sara herself, who gives me a reason to wake up in the morning and who carries Jeri with her in her eyes. You have all been my hope in the fault lines, and without you, I would be so lost. Thank you for being my solid ground when everything around me was shaking.

“And of course, to my dear sister, my best friend, Jeri. From wherever you are, know that this award means infinitely more because of what I learned from you. I wish I could’ve learned it with you beside me, but I’m hoping every single day that when it’s my time, I’m even half of the person you are. Thank you.”

The audience applauds, and someone hands you a small glass statue as the physical evidence of your award, and pictures are snapped, and then it’s all over. You’re back in the crowd, and you’re drained and a bit embarrassed and empty, and the only person you want to talk to is Mingyu. You want to run to him and throw yourself into his arms and let him carry you away from the stage and the people who are flocking to you to hug you and offer condolences and shake your hand and congratulate you. But you can’t, so you let them approach until Emily (bless her) extracts you from the crowd.

“Your parents came,” she whispers to you, and you feel your jaw clench.

“Where are they?” you ask through your gritted teeth.

“By the food. I’ve tried to hold them off, but they want to meet Sara.”

“Where is she?”

“Mingyu’s changing her diaper.”

You grab Cory’s arm as he passes. “My parents are here. Please go in the bathroom and tell Mingyu not to leave until you come back to get him.” With an alarmed look, he obeys, and you stalk toward the two elderly people staring haughtily around at the crowd at the food table.

Your mother sees you first. As she meets your eyes you remember her wearing that same look while your father had “disciplined” you — with a belt. It’s a shrewd look, a calculating one. The last night you’d lived with them, before you’d taken Jeri and gotten out of that place, she had told him she didn’t think the message was sinking in enough. She suggested more stripes might remind you of “a woman’s place.”

As hard as she is to look at, he is infinitely worse. Your father has grown hunched in the ten years since you’ve seen him, his face becoming even more gaunt and severe, almost cartoonish in its caricatured lines. You stand up straighter and realize that you’re not afraid of him anymore. “What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice quiet so as not to attract attention and cause a scene.

“Is it a crime to want to see my daughter and granddaughter?” your father croaks.

“I don’t remember inviting you,” you say shortly. “I want to know how you found out about this.”

“I read about it in the paper,” he says.

“Well, thank you for coming,” you say. “But I think I made it clear that I don’t want contact with you after the trial.”

“The judge only ruled that Sara would live with you. They didn’t mention that we could never see her,” your mother claims.

“No, they didn’t say that. But I did,” you remind her, your voice surprisingly gentle despite your anger.

There is a sudden warmth from a hand at your shoulder. “Are you okay?” Mingyu asks quietly.

You turn to face him, giving him a tight smile. “Yeah,” you say, a bit shaken but still determined. “Where’s Sara?”

“Wonwoo is watching her,” he replies. “Do you need help with them?”

You had told him about your parents and the vaguest details of their abuse around month four. He knew you’d left home at seventeen with Jeri in tow, determined to let her be safer than you had been. He knew that there had been a nasty custody battle necessitating your admission of everything they’d done to you so that Sara would never be subjected to the childhood you had. He didn’t know that you’d had to teach yourself how to do makeup in seventh grade to hide the black eye your father had given you, because your mother believed makeup to be deceitful and of the devil. He didn’t know all the times you’d stepped in front of Jeri to prevent your father from hurting her. He didn’t know the fear you’d felt when they took you to court to try and take your niece away from you — all on the basis that a child without her father, raised by only a woman, could never be complete.

He didn’t know everything, but still he was there at your side. Big and strong and never angry except for right now, his dark eyes flashing and his mouth set in a straight line. You’d wondered how your soft, silly, sweet Mingyu had managed to survive for years as a federal agent, but now you knew. Mingyu could be intimidating if he wanted to be – he simply chose not to be most of the time.

You sigh, relieved. “I think I would like help with them, actually.”

This is all Mingyu needs to spring into action. He moves for your father, taking him by the arm in what you’re sure is a vice grip, as you link an arm around your mother’s arm. “I need the both of you to go,” you tell her. “And if I see you again, I’ll file a restraining order. Don’t think I won’t. I’d prefer not to do it, so just leave us alone. We’re happy.” You release her in the hotel lobby, and she and your father scurry away.

As you walk back to the party with Mingyu, you ask, “did he say anything to you?”

Mingyu shrugs. “Nothing worth repeating.” The two of you hunt down Sara, and you give her a big hug before letting her finally wander around on her own two feet, which she’s been begging Wonwoo to do. It does your heart good to watch her be herself without any fear of retribution.

You’re surprised at how normal you feel after returning to the group. Your hands still shake, and you do keep a closer eye on Sara than normal, but you don’t dwell on it. It didn’t burn you like you expected to see them again. Perhaps, you reason, although the pain of seeing your parents again is very different from your grief, and there is nearly ten years of distance between that pain and your current life, you have actually become stronger. The thought makes you warm from the inside out. The rest of the event goes by in a blur -- all the way up until you overhear Mingyu talking to Wonwoo. “Come out with us tonight,” Wonwoo plies.

“I don’t know,” Mingyu says, sounding reluctant.

“You should,” you find yourself saying, grinning as they both jump at your words. “Sorry for eavesdropping. Why wouldn’t you go?”

Mingyu snorts. “I’ll go if you go.”

You grin regretfully at Wonwoo. “Sorry,” you say. “I have the duties of motherhood to attend to.”

Bora is standing nearby and interjects. “Actually, I think it’d be great if you went. I can take Sara tonight.”

You shoot her a look. “I wasn’t even invited. That was a joke.”

“No, you’re definitely invited,” Wonwoo says. “Please come. Seungcheol is going to be there, and he just got rejected, so he needs someone more responsible than me to look after him. Who better than a literal mother?”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t birth her, Wonwoo.”

“You’re still her mom,” says Bora. “I’m taking her home with me. Go out, have fun! It’ll be good for you. The last time you went out, you ended up finding Mingyu. So maybe tonight something great will happen.”

You can hear the suggestive edge in her voice. It has you glaring daggers at her as she reaches for Sara. “I’ll leave you to it,” she says, and scurries away.

***

“I’m not good at drinking,” you confess over the music.

“Then don’t drink too much,” Wonwoo says.

“Is everything just that simple for you?” you ask him, amused.

He grins. “Actually, yes.” He looks over to where the girl he brought and Mingyu are chatting happily about some inane thing, and frowns. “Sometimes even I complicate things, though.”

“I think she really likes you.” Wonwoo turns to look at you, eyes wide, and you chuckle. “I think we’re alike,” you explain. “Neither of us are very forward usually, or very good at expressing ourselves.”

Wonwoo nods with a sheepish grin. “That’s accurate.”

“So…do you like her?” you ask him bluntly.

Wonwoo clears his throat and downs a shot before replying. “I’ve been in love with her for a long time.”

“And you still haven’t said anything?” you ask sympathetically.

“Well, I mean, we’ve kissed. And we’ve held hands. And I kind of confessed.”

You eye him skeptically. “And would you say she’s more like you and I, personality-wise, or more like Mingyu?”

“Definitely Mingyu,” he replies.

“Do you think Mingyu would pick up on a half-confession?”

Wonwoo thinks to himself. “He’d probably understand what you’re saying, but I think he’d be too worried to do anything about it unless you were explicit. He’s too polite and cautious to cross a line like that.”

You try not to think about what he’s saying in the context of you and Mingyu, but it’s hard. “So, do you know what you need to do?” you ask him, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“Own up to my feelings, probably.” Wonwoo laughs at himself.

“You’ve already kissed,” you point out. “And she’s stuck around. If she hated that you kissed her, it might be one thing, but it seems to me like she’s pretty into being with you. You don’t have to be poetic, just tell her how she makes you feel and let her respond how she wants.”

He nods, putting the shot glass back on the bar and standing up. “Thanks,” he says. “You might consider taking your own advice, too.” And with that, he walks across the room to the girl and leans in to whisper something to her. The two of them leave together, and Mingyu turns to look at you, giving you a quizzical look.

“What did you say to him?” he asks, coming to sit in Wonwoo’s vacated seat.

“I told him to go for it,” you say, your head still buzzing with Wonwoo’s last comment to you. You sip sparingly at your piña colada and sigh. “What are we even doing here?” you ask Mingyu with an uncharacteristic giggle, probably brought on by the alcohol in your system. “I’ve never been a person who goes to bars, and since becoming a parent, I am even less of one.”

Mingyu laughs. “Well, I was having a great time talking with Wonwoo’s girl, until someone decided to be an inspiration. As per usual.”

“Where are Seungcheol and Vernon?” you say, ignoring his compliment but for a small grin.

“I think they’re in an intense game of pool. Vernon’s doing a better job distracting Cheol than I thought he would,” Mingyu says. “Although they’re both super drunk. We should go check on them.”

Mingyu takes your hand and guides you through the crowded bar, to a back room with a pool table, a ping pong table, and a couple of old arcade games. Vernon and Seungcheol have abandoned the pool table and are standing by the ancient-looking jukebox. As you watch, Seungcheol whacks the jukebox with his fist, and then groans in pain. Mingyu wordlessly jogs over to them and grabs Seungcheol’s hand to inspect it.

“Wanted it to play that one song,” Seungcheol slurs at Mingyu as you approach. “The one that reminds me of her.”

Mingyu looks at him in a mixture of amusement and worry. “Which one?”

“She’s Got a Way,” Vernon says, stumbling over. “Billy Joel is the best.”

“I think you should sit down,” Mingyu says to both of them as they lean heavily on him. You grab Vernon by the arm and help him over to the nearest collection of chairs, just as a pretty girl in a black dress strides up to Mingyu helping Seungcheol.

“Hi, handsome,” she says.

“Pia?” Mingyu says, shocked. “Oh, wow. Um, hi! It’s been awhile.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Sure has, soldier.” She doesn’t spare you or either of the other two men a single glance -- her focus is solely on Mingyu. “Where have you been?”

“I was living in Italy for a minute. You know, doing the whole nannying thing still.” He clears his throat. “But I’ve been back awhile.”

“Huh,” Pia says. “Can’t believe you haven’t lost your mind around all those kids yet. Let me buy you a drink. You can tell me all about it.”

Mingyu shoots you a sideways glance. You want to drag him away from her -- with your teeth, if necessary -- but you say nothing, hoping your face isn’t betraying the open hostility in your heart. “I don’t know,” he says, hesitating. “I’m supposed to drive later.”

“Then I’ll buy you a virgin daiquiri. Nothing hokey, I promise,” she says smoothly, taking Mingyu’s arm. “I’ll have you back here before you know it.” And with that, she waltzes him away as he looks at you, wide-eyed, over his shoulder.

You aren’t really mad at him. You could tell that if it were up to him, he’d have stayed with the three of you -- if only because he was worried about Vernon and Seungcheol being too much for you. And yet, it still rankled to see him walking away with another woman.

Another very pretty woman.

Maybe it’s this that leads you to order another drink when the waiter comes around. And another. Two drinks was enough alcohol to get you shit-faced. Three has you singing along to She’s Got a Way with the other two when it finally plays, even though you never sing.

By the time Mingyu arrives back to your group, he is shocked to see you with your arms slung around the other two, your cheeks pink and your eyes bright, belting another song along with them while Seungcheol weeps unabashedly into your shoulder.

“I think it’s time to leave,” he says, amused, propping Seungcheol up. “Stay right there, baby. I’ll be back.”

You blink. It feels like time is moving in slow motion as Mingyu turns to leave the bar. “Did he just call me baby?” you ask Vernon stupidly.

“I think so,” Vernon says, nodding. “It’d be weird if he called me that.”

You frown. “Why does he do stuff like that?”

Vernon shakes his head. “I don’t know. But what I do know is that the room is spinning, which means I drank too much, so I’m gonna just lay down for a second.”

You watch Vernon put his forehead to the table and give a drunken scoff. Mingyu arrives shortly afterward, lifting you princess-style out of your chair as though you weigh nothing and telling Vernon he’ll be back. He lays you in the passenger seat of your car, grinning down at you. “I see why you don’t drink often,” he teases. “You really are a lightweight.”

Seungcheol groans from the backseat. “Kiss her,” he commands, too loud, causing passerby to look over in shock.

To Mingyu’s surprise, your eyes light up. You still have a hand gripping his soft tee from when the world tilted alarmingly as he hoisted you off the chair, and your eyes are out of focus and you keep blinking at him to try and see him, and you’re uncomfortably aware that your hair is plastered to your forehead with sweat.

Adorable. He can’t help but think it. The alcohol has done its job admirably — your cheeks are flushed, and your usually-guarded gaze is open and almost dangerous in your blatant desire for him. It takes everything in him to restrain himself from listening to Seungcheol and kissing you in front of all these people.

But you’re so drunk, and he cares too much about you to do it like this, so he gently removes your fist from his shirt and runs back into the bar to get Vernon, hearing Seungcheol yell “Coward!” at him as he retreats. In no time he packs Vernon into the back of the car and drives off, monitoring you in the passenger side.

Seungcheol gets out at Vernon’s house, and together they stagger inside. Mingyu watches them in amusement until he hears you sniffling. Alarmed, he looks down to see you crying quietly into your hands.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, befuddled.

“I’m drunk,” you say in a choked, muffled voice. “People just cry when they’re drunk sometimes.”

He shrugs, then pats your shoulder. “I guess you’re right.” But he continues to watch as your tears continue to fall. Finally he pulls up to your house, and you claw at your seatbelt, trying to pull yourself loose. He chuckles and pops the button easily, and you fling the door open and promptly fall out of the car.

In a panic, Mingyu runs around the side of the car to see you weeping on your own driveway. When he moves to help you, you weakly try to push him away. “What’s going on, honey?” he says, suddenly realizing you may not have told him the truth earlier about the reason for your tears.

“I’m mad at you,” you admit, wiping your eyes. “And I cry when I’m mad.”

He purses his lips. “Well, can I at least get you inside? Then we can talk about it.”

You hesitate, then nod. Wordlessly he scoops you into his arms, and despite everything you’re feeling, you tuck yourself into the crook of his neck. He’s so warm, and you breathe in his scent, feeling the pain of the fall and your own feelings ease a little.

“So,” he says after he’s propped you up on your couch. “What’s this about, huh?”

You look up at him with red eyes. “I’m not actually mad at you.” You take a deep breath in. “I’m mad at me.”

The realization had hit you when you’d reached Vernon’s apartment. You had broken your own heart, beyond what you thought was possible after losing your sister, because every version of your future that you had even the slightest desire to live in had Mingyu in it. And not as your nanny — as your partner. The sudden impossibility of any of those futures becoming reality has rushed to you, because Mingyu needs a job, and you need a nanny, and to change anything about your relationship would cost him his livelihood — or cost the both of you the relationship you already have.

The only thing more impossible than explaining this was staying quiet, however.

So when he asks why, you tell him. “I ruined everything, Mingyu. I … I put us both in the worst possible situation.”

“How?” His eyes are zeroed in on your face, alight in the dim room.

You can almost taste your own heartbeat as you reply. “I…fell in love with you.”

Mingyu’s jaw drops.

“I know, it’s stupid. And you…you have better options than me, plus…we’re impossible. You and me, it would never work anyway. But I had to say it before I catch fire from the inside out.”

When you finally look at Mingyu, his shock has turned into a pained expression. “Impossible?” he repeats quietly.

You nod sleepily as the tears overtake you again. “Like trying to fit a round peg in a square hole,” you confirm, sniffling.

“Why is it impossible?” he asks. “Explain that.” For the first time since you’ve known Mingyu, he sounds angry with you.

And this makes you angry, too.

“Because this is not the life you deserve,” you say, your voice too loud for the living room. “Me, my grief, my baggage, a kid — you deserve your own family. One that isn’t so … messy.” Your voice cracks near the end of your rant, but you choke your tears down like you had in front of your parents and their rage all those years ago.

“What if you’re enough for me?” he challenges, eyes flashing.

“I’m not going to let you throw the whole life you could have with someone else away for someone who can’t give you what you want!” you yell. “I can’t love you like you deserve, Mingyu!”

Mingyu’s face crumples from anger to shattering grief. He stands up, grabs his jacket, and heads for the door.

You want to yell at him to come back, but feel too guilty and tired and stressed and awful to say a word. Before he opens the door, he half turns over his shoulder, not meeting your eyes. “I know you, and I know how you love. And it’s more than enough. You are what I want.” His tone is so careful and measured that you know he wants to yell back at you. He couldn’t be more serious, or more plain about what he’s saying. He finally looks into your eyes as he opens the door.

“If you ever stop being afraid of that, you know where to find me,” he says quietly.

And without another glance, he steps into the night, letting the door shut with an awful sense of finality.

***

“Get up,” says Bora sternly, ripping the sheets off you.

You groan and bury your face in your pillows. “No,” you say.

“Sara has been asking for you,” she insists.

You glare at her, but push yourself up and follow her downstairs. Sara is playing happily on the floor with Morrie. When she catches sight of you, she yells her toddler version of your name. Your heart partially pieces itself back together, and you respond to her reaching arms by pulling her close. “Hey, baby. Did you have a fun sleepover?”

“Yeah!” Sara yells excitedly. “We had soooooooooo much fun!!”

“We played with my princess toys,” Morrie informs you.

“Oh did you?” you say, trying to mimic their excitement.

“Yeah!! Mommy said you went out to have fun with a cute boy,” Morrie says. “Did you have fun?”

You glance over at Bora before responding. “I may have had a little too much fun.”

Bora hisses, but you shake your head at her, letting her know with your eyes that you’ll talk later. She hangs around for the morning, and when Morrie and Sara go down for their naps, she corners you.

“Tell me why Mingyu didn’t show up this morning,” she demands.

You sigh. “Because I am the dumbest, stupidest idiot known to all mankind.” And you tell her everything.

She listens intently. “And then he texted this morning and told me he needed some time,” you finish, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat.

“So what are you gonna do about it?” she asks you. You note the strain in her tone and realize she’s mad at you too.

“I don’t know,” you snap, her anger and your own pain making you feel trapped and defensive.

“That man is in love with you,” she says, exasperated. “I mean, it was really obvious that he feels the same way about you that you feel about him. And you’re just going to stubbornly suggest that he’s too good for you?”

“He literally is, though,” you say, desperate to make her understand. “He’s the perfect man. He could be with anyone. I have a kid and a company, and he deserves someone’s full attention and full heart, and that will never be me.”

Bora’s shaking her head. “No, listen to me. You’ve always been like this. You think love is this finite thing and once you give it to one thing you don’t have enough to give to something else. I thought Sara would change that about you. Do you forget about Sara when you’re at work?”

You think to yourself. No, in fact. You thought about her constantly. You even did your job in the hope that one day she would know she could do whatever she set her mind to. “And did you stop running your business just because you became Sara’s guardian?” Bora asks you, watching you as you think. “Of course you didn’t. Because love isn’t finite, you dummy.”

You stare at her, unconvinced. She sighs. “Sweetheart, I see the way you look at him. I know you know you have feelings for him, but when you think about an entire lifetime without Mingyu, when you think about him moving on with someone else, how does that feel?”

“Unbearable,” you whisper. You’ve already thought about it -- all last night, after you sobered up, you thought about what would happen to you if that was the last time you ever saw Mingyu. You knew you’d keep going, for Sara, like always. But you also knew you’d be a shell of who you were when you were with him, and you didn’t like to think how long it would take for you to fill yourself back up.

Which brings you to a greater worry. “What if I just…got attached? Because he was something for me to hold onto during all this?” you ask her.

“So what if you did? That’s as real a reason to be attached to someone as I can think of.”

“I don’t want to be trauma-bonded, Bora.”

She rolls her eyes. “Have you ever heard him say anything mean? About anyone?”

“No?” Because he hadn’t. Not even your parents. He was unfailingly kind.

“And has he ever made you feel inferior, for any reason?”

“Of course not,” you say. In fact, even when he teased, he was never disrespectful.

“And are the two of you able to talk about things together without antagonizing each other?”

“Yes,” you tell her, realizing all at once that your friendship with Mingyu is one of the healthiest you have.

Bora nods. “You need to go see him.” She grabs your hand and starts tugging you up the stairs.

“But I just got Sara back, and he says he needs time!” you protest, shocked.

“He needs time from the you that didn’t know you didn’t want to live without him,” she says forcefully, throwing one of your duffel bags onto your bed and tossing a random assortment of clothing into it.

“Why are we packing?” you ask her in alarm.

“You aren’t coming home tonight,” she says matter-of-factly.

“I’m not?”

“For the smartest person I know, you’re an absolute idiot,” she says. “Grab pajamas, sweetie.”

You know better than to argue with Bora when she gets into tornado mode. So you pull out your favorite sweatpants and a hoodie. Bora looks at your selections with a critical eye. “Comfort over style?” she asks, moving to your dresser. She opens the top drawer and extracts the pretty pink lingerie an ex boyfriend got you for Christmas three years ago.

“What is that for?” you ask as she grabs a black bra and panty set and shoves it into the bag as well. You feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the beating of your heart suddenly rattling in your brain.

She doesn’t respond, just takes you out to your car and hands you the keys she grabbed -- still on the counter where Mingyu had left them the night before. “I’m prohibiting you from coming home tonight. I’ll take care of Sara. Don’t worry about anything, just go.”

It’s not until you’re on the road that it hits you fully what you’re about to do. You’ve never done anything like this before -- never cared enough to take the risk that you’re about to take. You try not to imagine him slamming the door in your face and drive faster, wanting to get to the part where you’re standing in front of him saying what you need to say.

Finally, you arrive. You take a deep breath before dashing from the car to knock on Mingyu’s door. Your knocks are so persistent and loud that he answers right away, looking shocked to see you of all people on his porch with a duffel bag.

The first words out of his mouth aren’t what you expect. “Are you fleeing the country?”

“Huh?” you ask.

“Your duffel bag. And you look like you just robbed a bank,” he says with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh. Um, no. I...can I come in? I really need to talk to you.” You can hear how thick your voice sounds, and you try to clear your throat, but breathing is hard. Because there he is -- wet hair from a recent shower, white tank top with massive arms fully visible, and eyes that only just barely betray the hurt of the night before. The hurt you caused.

He steps aside to let you in, and you scurry past him and lay your bag down before you turn to face him. “Is Wonwoo here?” you ask first.

“Nah, he stayed with his girl last night.” Mingyu’s eyes are steady on you, urging you to explain yourself, and you’re more nervous than ever. You rub your slick palms on your sweatpants and will yourself to find the words to continue.

“I’m so scared,” you finally whisper to him.

His face is stony, unreadable. “Of what?” he asks.

“Everything,” you tell him. “All of this. I’m scared of you most of all.”

He softens a little. “Why?” he asks, taking a step toward you.

You step forward too -- close enough to touch him. And for the first time in your life, you make the move, reaching forward and taking his big hand in yours. “Because you, Kim Mingyu, could ruin me. I love you in a way that’s never supposed to end, and that terrifies me. I don’t ever want to lose you. And I could. I might have already.”

He’s very still, watching your face, looking for any signs of a lie. It’s such a relief to be touching him, and you’re so high on the feeling of his warm hand in yours, that you sigh as you bring his knuckles to your lips, breathing a kiss over each one.

“You mean it,” he says quietly, watching you adore him.

“I do,” you say. “I really, really do. I love you, Kim Mingyu.”

Those are the words that seem to hit him like a comet breaking through the atmosphere. He tugs you forward and into his arms and buries his face in your neck, squeezing you hard enough that you feel your ribs crack.

“I love you too,” he says, and you hear the hint of tears in his voice. “I wish I could find a way to tell you how I feel right now,” Mingyu says into your hair. “I meant what I said. You’re everything I ever wanted. Sara, too.”

And you know there’s still things that you’ll need to work out, but when you’re in Mingyu’s arms, it all seems to matter a lot less. The relief is instantaneous, his touch soothing the tightness in your chest, and you finally let yourself open up fully, melting into him and squeezing him back. Mingyu lets go of you only briefly and only partially to pull you over to the sofa, wrapping his arms around your middle from behind and pulling you to his chest.

“What made you decide to come?” he asks you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You give a small laugh. “Bora,” you say. “It was actually barely my choice at all. She basically threw me out of my own house.”

You can feel the vibration of his own chuckle where your head rests against his chest. “Thank goodness for Bora.”

“Mmm,” you say in agreement, relaxing into his embrace. Mingyu’s arms tighten around you, and he leans down to kiss your shoulder through your several layers of sweatshirt. “So, how long have you liked me?” you ask him shyly.

He sighs. “It was almost at first sight for me,” he admits, blushing as your jaw drops. “I’m serious! You looked so cute that first morning. So frazzled, too.”

“Imagine my shock,” you explain, “when I hire a nanny and someone who looks like you shows up.” You trace a light hand up and down the arms wrapped around you, watching as they erupt into goosebumps.

“What do you mean? Did I look irresponsible?” he teases.

“No, you’re just the hottest man alive,” you say, grinning at him over your shoulder.

He looks both shy and pleased with himself. “I am?” he asks, his smile growing.

You turn back around and sink into him again. “My love, I’m going to need you to invest in a mirror. You clearly don’t know what you look like.”

Mingyu gives a soft laugh. Slowly and deliberately, he kisses down the side of your face from your temple down your cheekbone, bringing a hand up to turn your head to face him. “Would you like a kiss from the hottest man alive?” he asks very seriously, but he can’t help the corners of his mouth from turning upward just a bit.

You nod, privately and internally screaming to yourself. It’s been a very long time -- what if you’re bad at it?

But Mingyu is so careful. He just barely tilts your chin up and lets your lips meet his, soft and warm and tender. You let your lips part slightly, and lean in just slightly more, adding a bit of pressure. His hand on your face is steady and strong, and you can taste coconut oil on his lips from his chapstick. Kissing Mingyu is heaven, as thrilling as a roller coaster but as safe as a night at home in Sara’s rocking chair. Your mind is full of him — everything else seems to evaporate as though Mingyu is the only real thing in the world, and you cling to him, trembling, as though he might disappear too. You have to remind yourself to take it slow, although your heart clattering against your ribs is begging you for more from his lips, but can’t help a soft hum of pleasure from escaping you as he breaks the kiss and comes back for another, slipping his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck.

He smiles against your lips at the sound. “Enjoying yourself?” he asks, pulling away a bit.

And although you’re trembling with a surplus of emotions, you manage an eye roll. “I don’t have to answer that,” you say, breathing too heavily.

Those darling crow’s feet appear at the corners of his eyes as he notices the heat rising in your face, even brushing a thumb along the pink that has appeared on the apple of your cheek. “I would do things all the time to make that happen,” he admits, dropping a feather light kiss on your cheek. “You looked so cute, and it also made me feel like maybe you might love me back one day.”

“For your information, I liked you almost this entire time, too,” you tell him.

“When did it shift?” he asks. “Between liking me and loving me, I mean.”

You consider. “I think it became clearer to me when Sara started calling you dad — you remember? It was around her first birthday.”

“I remember!” he says. “I was worried you’d be mad.”

You smile. “I wasn’t mad at all. It occurred to me then that I couldn’t see myself finding anyone else to love Sara the same way, or that it would just all feel wrong and weird if it wasn’t you. I thought about it plenty of times beforehand, though. I think the first time I felt something real was when I got sick.”

“Two weeks in?” Mingyu asks, surprised.

“Yeah, about that long,” you confirm, and his eyes go wide.

“We’ve really just been driving each other crazy and not saying anything for the past however many months?” He laughs his high-pitched giggle. “We’re idiots!”

“Well, we figured it out eventually,” you say, spinning around to face him. “Now, I have a question.”

“Ask away,” he says, his eyes soft and adoring as he gazes at you.

“Why did you fall for me? I’m a wreck.”

He laughs again, and you swat at his arm. “I’m being serious. You couldn’t have come into my life in worse circumstances, and you’ve seen me at every extreme. Why do you love me? Why not someone...I don’t know, younger? Less riddled with grief? Someone who isn’t a package deal?”

He thinks for a minute. “Well, you’re not a decrepit old woman, as much as you might think you are. I’m actually six months older than you,” he informs you.

“You are? How do you know?”

“Your birthday is October 16. Mine is April 6 of the same year.”

“How do you know that?” you repeat, shocked.

“I stalked you on social media,” he replies, blushing himself.

You decide to let this go. “But you still haven’t explained why you love me,” you protest.

He looks at you, grinning at your eagerness with stars in his eyes, brushing your hair out of your face to see you better. “The first thing I loved about you was how much love you had for your niece,” he begins. “You didn’t resent her at all even though she’d sort of wrecked your whole life plan. That said something about you. I could tell you had a good heart.” He pauses. “The second thing I loved about you was your ass.”

You gape at him. He bursts into laughter, and you shove his shoulder. “I’m kidding,” he says. “Although,” he continues, reaching around to lift you onto his lap by said ass, “it is pretty incredible.”

You have to rest your hands on his chest to keep yourself upright, but you avoid meeting his eyes, even though you’re straddling him. You’re feeling like someone zapped you with a bolt of lightning as a tingle spreads from your inside out. “Hey,” he says softly. “Look at me, baby.”

You force yourself to look into his eyes, which are warm and smiling at you over a fine dusting of freckles across his nose. He shifts his weight a bit so you’re resting more comfortably across his hips, and your breathing grows heavier. “Is this okay?” he asks, a bit amused at how much the simple change in position seems to be affecting you.

Trying to look unbothered, you nod. “Please go on,” you say.

“What was I saying?” he asks, his hand dancing down your spine and making you shiver, still grinning up at you.

“Something about my ass,” you tell him, and he laughs.

“Right,” he says. “But seeing how you treated Sara was the first thing. Then I appreciated how hard you worked. And then I loved your humor and how you teased me. And then I admired how you opened up to me. And then —“

“Alright, enough,” you interrupt, embarrassed.

“The point is,” he continues with a broad smile, “it all came down to how much love you had inside you. You loved everything and everyone so much, in a way that was so unique to anyone I’d ever met. It was just you.”

You laugh at this – the very reason he fell for you was the thing you were worried about not being able to give him.

He sighs contentedly at the sound. “After a while the possibility of being with anyone else just felt … gross. You can ask Wonwoo — we had a few particularly miserable nights of drinking about it.”

You ruffle his hair. “You talked about me to your friends?”

“Almost constantly for almost as long as I’ve known you,” he confirms. “They’re so sick of me.”

You tsk softly, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder. “They deserve for us to take them to dinner,” you say, lightly scratching up and down his back. You can’t help but sigh in relief — Mingyu’s touch feels like stepping inside from the cold. You can feel yourself relaxing against him, your heartbeat slowing.

After several minutes of holding each other like this, Mingyu extricates himself. “One second, baby,” he says, pecking you on the forehead.

“Where are you going?” you ask, wincing at the whine in your voice.

“I just need to text my housemate,” he calls over his shoulder as he disappears into one of the bedrooms. “I’m gonna tell him not to come home.”

You suddenly become painfully aware of the pink lingerie buried in your duffel bag.

If it’s been awhile since you’ve kissed anyone, it’s been an age since you’ve had sex. And on top of that, all the sex you’ve had has been at worst embarrassing and at best okay. To say you’re nervous is an understatement — more nervous than you were the first time you ever undressed in front of a man, and you’re still fully clothed.

So you just wait for him to come back, smiling at him as he re-enters the room, flops onto the couch, and lays his head in your lap. You almost automatically run your fingers through the slightly longer hair on top of his head, letting your fingernails lightly brush against his scalp. He nestles into you and sighs. “So, what do you want to do tonight?”

You can’t help the choked laugh that escapes you. “Well…” you begin, as you blush and Mingyu looks up at you in alarm.

“Oh,” he realizes, sitting up. “That was such a leading question. I didn’t mean it like that.”

You put a gentle hand to his cheek. “I know you didn’t,” you say. “But…”

At your hesitation, he shakes his head. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. I just told Wonwoo to stay out because I want us to have uninterrupted time together before we need to go take care of Sara.”

The anxiety leaves you almost instantly. “Thanks,” you say in relief. “Um…are you hungry? You’ve cooked for me so often. It might be fun to do a little role reversal tonight.”

“I’m starving,” he admits, “but what if I take you out to a restaurant?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Looking like this?” you ask, gesturing to yourself.

“We could change?” he suggests.

“How’s this for compromise,” you say, feeling like he just doesn’t want you to do anything for him tonight. “We order takeout. I know this great pizza place.”

His face lights up. “Pizza sounds amazing.”

45 minutes later, you’re both tucked into Mingyu’s comforter on the sofa, eating pizza with your legs tangled together. “Let’s pick a movie,” Mingyu says with his mouth partially full.

You nod, handing him the remote. The two of you scroll through options before settling on Legally Blonde. When you bring up that you think Mingyu is only watching the movie for you, he side-eyes you comically. “This is one of my favorite movies!” he insists, and you let him have it.

But there’s starting to be an issue. The adrenaline of the impulsive decision to come to him and confess has worn off, and in its place is a new, unfamiliar, and powerful feeling. An unbearable ache you barely recognize, coming from body parts that haven’t been touched in years. And you definitely aren’t surprised that you’re attracted to Mingyu, but you are surprised at how turned on you are by him in his tank top, eating pizza straight out of the box. You’re practically salivating as you watch him watch the movie.

It doesn’t take long for him to notice. “Um, baby,” he says. “Everything okay?”

He’s got a little piece of cheese at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes are big and slightly concerned. Before you realize what you’re saying, you blurt out, “I wanna do it!”

“Do what?” he asks, bewildered.

“Do you,” you clarify. You grin sheepishly at him.

He chuckles a little, watching you carefully. “Are you sure?” he says once he can see you’re serious.

“Well, unless you don’t want to,” you backtrack, realizing that in your painful need for him you’d forgotten his feelings.

He raises an eyebrow. “No, I most definitely want to,” he says, scooting closer to you. He lightly brushes his fingers over your cheekbones, his touch sending a jolt of desire through your body. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to. We can take it slow.”

“Mingyu,” you say, closing the distance between the two of you and taking his face in your hands. “We’ve been taking it slow for four months. I’m officially finished going slow with you.” You puff out a breath, uttering a quiet but desperate “please” that fades into the air like smoke, and before it has, Mingyu has pulled you into his arms and stood up off the couch. He kisses you deeply, catching your bottom lip between his teeth in a gentle bite that has you gasping for air. He stumbles blindly to the bathroom with your legs locked around his waist, sitting you down on the counter to continue kissing you, only pulling back to pull your sweatshirt up and over your head to reveal the bare skin and bra underneath.

And then, at a dizzying pace, he’s kissing down your cheek, down your neck, across your shoulder, feathering kisses over every freckle there until he’s brushing your bra strap to the side while one hand at your back slides up to unhook it.

You find yourself wishing you had a camera present for the way Mingyu’s face looks when he sees your bare chest for the first time. You half-expect him to bury his face in your breasts, so you tug him closer by the waistband of his sweats and press yourself closer to him, his fingers drawing lines of fire up and down the bare skin of your back as you hook your legs around him once more.

You’re tugging on his tank top, now, discarding the useless material so you can finally let his warmth completely envelope you skin-to-skin. He lifts you up off the counter and sets you down gently, taking a step back and gesturing to your shorts. “Need those off, baby,” he says, running a hand through his hair before smoothly untying the lace at the front of his own sweats and slipping them off.

But now it’s your turn to stare. You’d never really been given the chance to appreciate a naked body in such a present way, but you weren’t about to waste the opportunity when that body was Mingyu’s. You let your eyes roam over every perfect inch of him, only allowing yourself to look back at his eyes when he says your name. “You okay, love?” he says softly, taking a hesitant step closer.

You laugh softly. “That is not nearly a strong enough word.” You finally reach down and remove your own shorts, and Mingyu sucks in a breath from between his teeth. “Damn,” he exclaims, looking you up and down briefly before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the bedroom you can see through the other bathroom door.

He climbs into bed, under the covers, and pats the space next to him. You crawl in beside him as he pulls on a condom and then puts his hand to your cheek. “You ready?” he asks.

You’re breathless, you’re sweating, and you need him biblically. So you whisper “yes,” and Mingyu’s pulling you in for a deep, slow, spine-tingling kiss, his eyes fluttering shut, shifting his weight so that he’s hovering over you.

But then he does something you don’t expect, trailing kisses from your chin down your neck and chest. When he stops to drag his tongue over your nipples, you squirm a little, getting more and more heated by the minute. After a few minutes spent worshiping your breasts, he continues kissing down your body, pausing when he reaches your waist. “This okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, about two octaves higher than your normal voice, and he grins before his next question.

“Can I go lower, sweetie?”

This is new. No one has ever offered to eat you out before, and you’re suddenly insecure.

Mingyu can see it on your face. “It’s just so that you can feel good,” he reassures. “If you don’t want it, I won’t do it.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say quickly. “It’s just new. But I trust you.”

“New?” he questions with raised eyebrows.

“My first time,” you confirm.

He scoffs. “Then I guess I have to make up for lost time,” he says, pulling your legs over his shoulders and going to work.

And you can’t help the sharp intake of air, nor the moans that escape you, because this feeling is one of the best you’ve ever felt in your life. Mingyu eats like his life depends on it, and your back arches in pleasure as he responds to your sounds, learning what makes you feel best. Your hand finds the back of his head, and you find yourself wishing he had more hair that you could grab as you tremble with his efforts.

It doesn’t take long before the pleasure overtakes you, washing over you in a warm wave and making you feel all floaty and euphoric, your whole body seizing and twitching feverishly as Mingyu works you down from your high. When he finally pulls back, his mouth wet and grinning, you have to remind yourself how to breathe. “How was it?” he asks.

You can only shake your head and stare at him, dumbfounded. He laughs, then kneels in front of you on the bed so you can see how hard he’s gotten. “Can I?” he asks you, and in response you sit up and kiss him before pulling him down by his neck on top of you, guiding him inside of you.

You whimper a bit at the stretch, but Mingyu’s left you wet enough that it slides right in, and it feels amazing. “You okay, baby?” he checks again, and you chuckle.

“Yeah, just kiss me, Gyu,” you say, almost drunkenly, and the nickname on your dazed lips is almost enough to bring him to his own climax. But Mingyu is a good listener, so while he thrusts into you, he kisses you, over and over and over again, pausing every now and then to kiss your neck so that he can hear you moan into his ear.

“Good girl,” he says after a particularly loud one. “Talk to me. I wanna hear it.”

“How does it feel for you?” you ask him breathlessly.

“Like heaven, baby,” he grunts. “You’re so good. So, so good.”

You come another two times with him inside you, the last bringing on his orgasm. He collapses on top of you with a moan right in your ear that nearly undoes you yet again – so you can know how good you really are – and the weight of him is once again what brings you back down to earth. Your brain is hopelessly mushy, and your legs are shaking, and you have never been so satisfied.

After a minute, Mingyu pulls out and rolls off of you, chuckling. “Wow,” he says simply.

“Wow,” you agree, blinking rapidly to try and clear your head.

He props himself up on his side and looks at you, his eyes devouring your body like a man starved. With a shaking hand, he traces the outline of your figure, from the curve of your shoulders to your waist to the widest point of your hips. “Can’t believe how lucky I am,” he says, moony-eyed and smitten. “God, you’re amazing.”

“Was it really that good for you?” you ask him, a little shy.

“Easily the best I’ve ever had,” he says. He sits up, pulling his condom off, and heads into the bathroom, returning in minutes with a towel and some wipes. And then he cleans you, kissing your thighs as he gently wipes you off, and your heart skips a beat as you watch him. Once again, nobody has ever done this sort of thing for you, leaving you feeling odd after every sexual encounter – almost used.

“Me too,” you say softly, knowing how you must be looking at him. “Do you want to shower?” you ask him when he catches you staring yet again.

“Yeah,” he says with a smile.

The rest of the evening is spent in comfortable, peaceful companionship. You tease Mingyu over his 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner, and he responds by making out with you in the shower, which leads to both of you almost falling on the slick wet tiles. “Can’t help it,” he says with a laugh when you scold him, gripping the top edge of the shower and holding you around the waist to keep you upright. “I’m addicted to you.”

After the shower Mingyu hands you one of his softest big white t-shirts to wear, snapping several photos of you on his phone when you come out wearing it. “I miss you sometimes,” he explains, and you chuckle. “And I wanna remember tonight. I’m not exaggerating – it’s been the best one of my life.”

Finally, the two of you decide to actually finish Legally Blonde. You fall asleep before it’s over, but he stays up watching the way your eyelashes flutter in sleep, feeling that the sight of you curled up against his chest is the only sight he needs for the rest of his life.

And that’s how you end up spending the entire first night over at Mingyu’s sleeping on the couch in his arms.

***

“It’s Saturday,” you mumble into Mingyu’s neck.

“Mmm,” he agrees sleepily.

“So we can sleep in,” you sigh.

His arms constrict around your waist. “Sara,” he murmurs.

The word makes you open your eyes. The first thing you register is how warm it is – Mingyu’s big body is radiating heat like a furnace, intensified by how snugly he’s holding you against him. So you gently ease off his side and sit up, brushing a kiss over his cheekbone before heading to the bathroom.

You’re a wreck, your hair a knotty mess, in nothing but Mingyu’s tee. But your eyes — there’s something vibrant in them you haven’t seen in a while. There’s still a sizable amount of grief, a weight you doubt will ever fully be lifted, but you look happier.

You pull out one of the sweaters and a pair of jeans that Bora had packed for you and change, rolling your eyes at the lingerie still sitting in your bag. You’re just finishing up braiding your hair when Mingyu sits up. “Hey, sexy,” he calls across the room into the bathroom, his morning voice low and raspy.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling with the ease only he brings out of you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Really well,” he says, standing up and stretching. Then he comes into the bathroom with you, wrapping his thick arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to the base of the back of your neck. “I love you.”

You lean into his touch and let the joy sweep over you. “Good,” you say firmly. “I love you too, Mingyu.”

“I like the braids,” he says, looking at you both in the mirror, slouching to rest his head on your shoulder. “They’re really cute.”

“Thanks.”

“Maybe I can learn to do them on Sara,” Mingyu says, letting go of you and stepping into his own room and grabbing new clothes.

You shamelessly watch him as he strips out of his pajamas. “Maybe,” you murmur as he turns, shirtless, and catches you staring.

He grins. “You’re watching me change? Creep,” he teases.

So you make your slow way up to him, stopping just in front of him and sliding a hand from his abs up his chest. “Can’t help it,” you say lightly, watching in satisfaction as his cinnamon skin becomes a mess of goosebumps under your fingers. “You’re irresistible.”

He gives a grumpy sigh. “You better stop, or Sara’s gonna have to wait a couple more days before she sees either of us,” he says, and you are endeared to see that he’s blushing. Mingyu knew the effect you had on him, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to rebuff you when you’re standing there with the morning light streaming in, lighting up your eyes, dragging your warm fingertips across his chest slowly and deliberately like you just want to savor him.

His words make you frown, but he gives a light chuckle and kisses your forehead. “Don’t worry,” he reassures you. “We’ll have plenty of time for just us. I’ll make sure of it.” He pulls on his shirt and his sweatpants, then grabs your hand. “Now let’s go see our little girl.”

Your face hurts from smiling so wide, and at this statement, your heart explodes.

***

Aside from all the I-told-you-so’s, the transition from a working relationship to a dating relationship with Mingyu was simple, easy, and absolutely painless.

He still came over every day. But now Sara watched as you kissed him goodbye in the morning on your way to work. She didn’t seem confused at all by the change, nor did she notice that more and more often Mingyu stayed the night at your house. In her mind, Uncle Googoo was always welcome. It was as natural as breathing.

Maybe it was because you were still doing all of the same things you always did – you’d just added a few. Mingyu had always fit so seamlessly into your life. The two of you were happy, Sara was content, your friends were thrilled – Bora and Wonwoo especially, although Chan also took partial credit – and everything seemed perfect.

And then something shifted, just a tad. It was about a month after you became official. Mingyu spent a bit of time every night searching things up on his laptop. Occasionally, he spent a few minutes outside on the phone, never giving a direct answer when you asked who he’d been talking to.

He never acted off – he was still as affectionate (and insatiable for your body) as ever, so you weren’t nervous he was seeing someone else. Your first concern was that he was shopping for wedding rings. As smitten as you were with him, you worried that was a bit soon for two people who’d only been dating a month (although, admittedly, you’d already filled up a Pinterest board with ideas for the eventual wedding you hoped for). But then, after about two weeks, one of the phone calls comes while Mingyu is making dinner and you’re upstairs in Sara’s room trying to locate her hairbrush, and he can’t suppress a whoop of excitement.

“I need you,” he calls, and you respond by jogging down the stairs with concerned eyes.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing, I just have some news.” He carefully removes the pan from the stove and comes over to you, pulling you into his arms.

“What is it?” you ask, your hand coming up to touch his cheek.

“They caught him,” he says simply.

“Who, baby?” you ask, confused.

“The guy who hit your sister’s car,” he explains.

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“I’ve been working on it,” he admits. “I have some friends on the force, and a couple of informants leftover from my days as an agent. Someone knew someone who knew the car, and they knew the person who used to drive the car, and it turns out that the parking lot where it was abandoned had security cameras. He’s right there on camera, literally fifteen minutes after the accident. They arrested him two hours ago.”

You are speechless. Mingyu lifts you into his arms, and you bury your face in his neck. “Oh, thank you,” you say through tears when you can finally speak. “So that’s what you’ve been up to.”

“What did you think I was doing?” he asks.

“I literally thought you were looking at wedding rings.”

He laughs. “No,” he says. “Not yet.”

You hear the promise in his voice and know that the future is going to be better than you ever imagined – just like the present is.

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