#this is for the good of their family in the long run
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Three's a Sideshow
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary: Spencer misses an important date and ends up paying the consequences Trope:Angst w.c: 4.2k a/n: this is one of the many many requests of @lavonee (her exact request was: maybe spencer misses an important date/anniversary because of jj and reader is finally fed up being second place to her) trying my best to address all of them. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist
The hazy dim light of each candle on the white linen covered table gave the restaurant an orange hue. Various aromas of meat, wine, and complimentary cheese wafted through the enclosed space. Sensual tones of the saxophone lightly played on the speakers perfectly weave through each muted conversations between loved ones—couples and families. The high-end restaurant basked in good food and great company.
Everything was perfect.
Every costumer joyous and warm from the delicious wine.
All except for one, alone by the corner booth, phone pressed to your ear and eyes scanning for the tall, lithe form of the date for the night.
Beep. Beep. Be—
You grimaced at the busy line tone that answered you, again. Hands gripping the draped linen, trying your best not to tap your newly manicured fingers on the table—trying to blend into the background, unsuccessfully.
You stuck out like a sore thumb. All dressed up with no partner or food on the table, just a glass of once chilled wine—condensation all around it like tears of abandonment and longing.
The same waitress who escorted you to the table—15 minutes ago, approached with a perfectly rehearsed smile.
“Ma’am, are we ready to order?”
You sighed. “Actually, my boyfriend isn’t here yet—”
She bit her lip, nodding, before quickly averting her eyes to the queued up line outside the premise.
Right. It was a Friday night and every adult in the vicinity wanted a night out to unwind and start their weekend on the right foot.
You tightly smiled, the embarrassment of tonight painting your cheeks a deep maroon, unnoticed through the flickering of the orange candlelight. “—you know what, I think I’d just have a slice of your chocolate cake to go. Yeah, I’m sorry about holding up the table.”
The waitress nodded, understanding washing on her face. “That’s alright. I’ll have your order packed and ready to go.”
“Thanks,” you murmured as you watched her leave.
Tonight was suppose to be special.
You dressed up in the same white with purple printed flower midi length dress, styled your hair effortlessly, and spritzed on your favorite perfume that smelled like a luscious garden after a rainy night.
Everything was just like how it was two weeks ago—including your boyfriend of three years, Spencer Reid, not showing up for the date.
You didn’t even know why you bothered. Why his promise of being here tonight made you feel giddy and trusting. Why his commitment on having do-over for the actual anniversary dinner that he missed two weeks ago made you think it was going to end differently and why you gave him another chance—
Another chance to let you down.
Another crack in your belief that you were important.
Another heartache to soothe.
Another let down.
When you first entered the relationship, you understood the gravity of his work. How his career will always come first and how unpredictable it all may be.
That part—accepting those facts, were easy. You were always one to be tolerant and understanding ever since childhood, labeled as the easy kid—the independent, the self-sufficient. Mixed in with your highly demanding career as a doctor, you got it—the patience and consideration of a saint.
A martyr, your good friend once bluntly said.
But what good was being a martyr when the person you’re killing yourself for didn’t notice?
It didn’t matter at first. Missed messages, missed calls, missed dates were just a work of rotten timing from both ends. Sometimes it was you having to run to the hospital for an emergency surgery and sometimes it was him having to catch a plane to a latest serial killer case.
The tandem of both independent and busy people in the relationship worked, love blossomed regardless.
What made it different was, there was three of you in the relationship.
The third party being an intense platonic, as he once defended, connection with Her.
You felt it for the first time during a get together with his found family. Your set of eyes trained to read in between the lines for the truth patients unwittingly hide from their doctor. It was a skill that you honed and never hated, up until that moment.
The stolen glances when the other wasn’t looking.
The emotion veiled between the eyes.
The unsaid words that seemed to spill from the silence.
Never mind that there were two presences in the vicinity that could have their life altered in any minute from the secrets long hidden in vaults. It was as if you and her husband were considered ornaments, pieces of a possible aftermath not worth saving.
You knew of their past—Spencer admitting to having a crush on her during his early days with the team, asking her out on a baseball game date, and her recent admission during a case.
Everything was water under the bridge, your boyfriend assured you. But the thing was, water had a way of overflowing from confinement, turning deadly, and ravaging what once was an idyllic garden that bloomed from your affection.
Now as you pay for the tab and collect your things, you felt the tides that destroyed the solace inside of you well up to your eyes—wanting the release you’re fighting to keep at bay.
A fight you’re bound to lose.
You whispered a thank you to the waitress, soft and quiet that you were unsure if she even heard it but that was the best you could do, the sobs closing your vocal chords and threatening to escape, making you a spectacle—leaving the restaurant alone, with a boxed cake on hand.
What a sad sight.
You fumbled with the phone again, hands shaking as you insert the key on the ignition.
Beep. Beep. Be—
Nothing.
What even was the point of all of this, you wondered. All this emotion, love, that was once sweet and heavenly now all felt rotten, puss oozing from its pores and flies exalting for a feast.
Slowly backing your black 4-door sedan out of the parking lot, you pondered if this was the end—did you have any more left to give? Or was this just a bump on the road for the your future selves to learn and heartily laugh about?
———
The rattling of your keys as you dropped it on the ceramic plate across the main door disrupted the silent, empty apartment.
A small smile graced your face as you remembered spontaneously booking a ceramic wheel class with Spencer in tow. His initial worries about getting under the nails dirty and the bacteria that could be collected from any stranger that used the items before the both of you swept away with your giggles and assurances to double up on vitamins.
There was a wide grin on his face then, accepting defeat from the sight of your enthusiasm and glee.
It was one of your greatest memory with Spencer and when the glazed pottery came from the mail—yours, a wonky blue green plate and his, an uneven moss green bowl, you had him promise to take you again.
A promise that never came to fruition.
You sighed, eyes tracking the rented space you never quite moved in to. The walls painted this dark green color, reflecting the somber mood you frequently found yourself in and the shelves filled to the brim with books you never dream of reading.
in hindsight, maybe your subconscious was telling you something. Why you never agreed to Spencer’s casual asking of you to live with him. Why you were adamant of keeping your own apartment regardless of the nights you spent outside of it.
This place became your pseudo-home, comfortable but never quite permanent.
The distant murmur of a car being parked on the street had you clambering up from your defeated, slouched position on the leather couch. In your gut, you knew who it was.
You spotted them exiting the SUV.
The two figures that make the relationship three—a sideshow for everyone to see.
Spencer and JJ.
They talked for a bit, probably saying pleasantries of goodbyes, before she leaned in for a hug. One that he reciprocated, patting her back as he went.
They looked like a couple and if you were in your right state of mind, you’d chalk the exchange up to nothing but you weren’t—you were wounded and unsure of your standing ever since you exited the restaurant.
Were you his first still?
Or were you just second place?
They were questions you never wanted no, needed, to be addressed but it seemed like tonight was the night of reckoning.
As you watched Spencer enter the apartment, the smile on his face from spotting you slowly become a furrow between his brows, you fidgeted—pulling the coat tighter to your body, the one you never hung on the back of the door—ready to bolt.
“Love, I’m so sorry I missed our reservation—”
He went in for a kiss on your glossy lips.
A simple act that you didn’t have the energy to accept, you turned your head to the side. His lips catching your cheek instead.
“It’s fine,” you sardonically replied. “It wasn’t like I was waiting for you for half an hour to show up. It’s fine, Spencer.”
His brow twitched.
“It sounds like it’s not fine. Why don’t you tell me what you really feel? We promised to openly communicate, didn’t we?”
You huffed, throwing your hands up in the air. “I said it’s fine, Spencer. Why don’t you give it a rest?”
“You look beautiful,” his calloused fingers gently caressing your hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t show. It’s just that JJ and the tea—”
Your last thread of reason snapped clean from hearing her name.
“It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it? Me coming after her?”
“Love.”
“Don’t touch me—don’t call me that,” you pushed his hands away, tucking the escaped tendrils behind your ears.
His own, raking the wavy brown hair you loved, in frustration. You could tell, with how his hands opened and closed, that he was itching to touch you, comfort you.
“Her? You mean, JJ? She’s a friend. Just a friend.”
“And if this friend wasn’t married with kids, would you still be here with me now?”
Silence.
There, you said it.
“What—yes, yes of course. Why would you ask that? Why would you doubt it? Doubt me?”
Your gut twisted inside of you. It was inconceivable for someone like Spencer to lie, wasn’t it? He was a good guy, one of the best. But all the hidden resentment in your heart—a pile you weren’t even aware of, no longer wanted to be silenced. It no longer wanted to be pushed to the side for optimism and denial.
“I don’t know, Spencer. Maybe it’s the way you look at her—” voice raising up an octave. You’ve lost control, verbally dumping out everything. “Do you think I don’t see it? You look at her with this, this nostalgia and—and this emotion that I can’t compare to—never seen it when you look at me! Or maybe, maybe it’s because you drop everything for her? Including me?”
“Are you talking about when Henry got sick?” his hands finding a home on his hips. “I thought you understood—you of all, should have.”
Your laughter turned into a sob. “I do—I did, until you dropped me of unceremoniously back here, in this apartment, just so you could rush out to her home. Like I was some kind of secret, you didn’t want to bring around her. Like I was some sort of disease, you didn’t want her catching. Didn’t you think I would be of great help? A licensed medical doctor?”
“I wasn’t thinking straight—I thought you, you shouldn’t be exposed to the type of flu Henry contracted. You could have gotten sick too and could have passed it on to your other patients.”
“It’s my job to take care of the sick, don’t you think I take measures for my own health? Spencer, please, for once just be honest with me.”
He tilted his head. “Honest about what?”
“If it’s her you really want and if I’m just a passable substitute to settle down with.”
You could see his eyes blazing with such—disgust? Anger? You didn’t know what emotion it was before it was snuffed out, leaving his expression blank and almost sad. It was a look you were familiar with, his profiler look.
“I don’t need you profiling me and my insecurities, Spencer. I just want the truth. The God-honest truth.”
“I love you. I can’t imagine a life without you—I won’t imagine it. Isn’t that enough?”
Your hands drop to your side.
“I don’t know. Is it?”
The distance created by the silence between you and Spencer was vast. You’ve never felt quite alone and isolated in the relationship until this moment. Was this it, then? The end to your once dreamed of happy ever after?
“I’m sorry I missed the dinner. Why don’t you let me make it up to you? We can book the same restaurant for next week and—”
“You can’t just make up for a make up anniversary dinner, that’s not how it works in real life, Spencer. And besides, I don’t want to see the same pitying looks the workers there give me when they realize my date is again, and again, a no-show.”
He sighed, slowly invading your space. The arms that once felt like home to you, circling your waist, now felt foreign. You never imagined you’d get here but then again, who did?
Your hands clasped his button down before loosening its grip. Taking in one more whiff of his cedar-wood and mint perfume, you pushed him away. Stepping backwards from his presence and all he had to offer.
“It’s late. We’re both tired—”
He nervously smiled. Intertwining his fingers with yours and started to walk backwards to the direction of the bedroom. “Yeah, we can talk about it in the morning once you feel better.”
You wiggled your hand free.
“Actually, I think I have to go.”
Spencer paused, panic coloring his face. “That’s—that’s not what I meant, love. Anything but that. Please, please I love you and I’m sorry.”
“Me too, Spence. Me too.”
You slowly gathered your things, sans the chocolate cake left opened and untouched on the coffee table.
“Happy anniversary, I need space to think this all through—to think us through.”
He stood still, blocking your way, trying to wrap his head around the direction this was going to. The inevitable downfall of him and you. It was a car crash no one could no longer escape from.
“Please, let me fix this. I can do it, just—tell me how. Do you want me to limit my time spent with JJ? I-I can try, just please, don’t leave me.”
It wasn’t a promise, you noted. With how many broken promises there were between the span of your relationship, you wondered if that was a conscious choice of wording from him. It sounded hopeful, gleaming with oath even. But they were just words at the end of the day, packaged pretty for you to swallow.
“I need time, Spencer. I’m not breaking up with you, I just need space,” you placed a kiss on his cheek, wet from tears. “Can you give me that, love?”
He choked a sob.
“Promise me you’ll be back. Promise me.”
You tightly smiled, making your way back to the door. The unanswered plea hanging in the air like a blade, waiting to slash down between you—waiting to sever the connection that was once shiny and new.
Shakily removing the spare key of the apartment from your chain, you chanced one last look at his hunched form—sobs emitting from his sweet lips and acid rain spilling down his cherub cheeks, regretting that this might be your last memory of Spencer Reid.
You didn’t know if you’d be back.
If the thought of being second place will ever go away.
But the sinking feeling in your gut tells you the truth—that this is it.
This is final.
This is the end.
Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!
#spencer reid fanfic#Spencer reid#Spencer Reid fanfiction#Spencer Reid imagine#Spencer Reid fic#criminal minds#dr spencer reid#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic#Spencer Reid x reader#Spencer Reid x fem!reader#Spencer Reid x y/n#Spencer Reid x self insert#Spencer Reid x you#Spencer Reid oneshot#Spencer Reid one shot#Spencer Reid sad#Spencer Reid angst
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YOU & ME
Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader
Summary: After returning to OBX, after the events of the past four years have cooled off, JJ realizes it's about time he asks you a very important question.
Warning: JJ deserves a happy ending! Season 4 spoilers.
word count. 1k || masterlist
JJ found you out on the dock, leaning over the railing and looking at something in the water. He smiled to himself as he strolled toward you, running his fingers over the ring he stuffed in his pocket.
“Find any treasure down there?” JJ asked as he approached you.
You threw him a look over your shoulder. “Not funny,” you replied, but there was a smile on your lips that told him otherwise.
The Pogues had rightfully retired from their treasure-hunting days. Too many close calls and they weren’t willing to risk it anymore. They didn’t need to, not after finally cashing out for the last time. JJ, with your guidance and gentle threats, promised to be responsible with his share this time around. For the first time in his life, he saw a future illuminated brightly ahead of him. He had you, his friends, and even a God-daughter now. While his risky tendencies weren’t completely put to bed, he was comfortable where he stood and finally felt like he could relax.
All in all, he was happy. But there was still something he had yet to do.
He slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you both gazed at the water. As much as he had once enjoyed action and adventure, JJ partially used it as an escape. He felt like he had been running from something his whole life, trying to make sense of why he was the way he was. He used to think that, if he never slowed down, nothing would have the chance to hurt him too much. But then he found a family within his friends and a reason to stop running within you. He didn’t need to escape anymore or run. He didn’t need to make sense of anything anymore. JJ Maybank finally had everything he had been looking for. His world made sense for the first time, and he had no intention of screwing that up.
“You okay?” you asked softly, reaching up and brushing a hand across his cheek.
“Yeah, just thinkin’.”
“Uh-oh,” you teased, moving to stand in front of him. You hugged him lightly, peering at him with furrowed brows. “Thinkin’ about what?”
JJ leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You.”
“And what about me?” Your breath was warm against his face, competing against the cool breeze off the water. The distant laughter of his friends sounded from up the dock, where they all sat around, eating and cooing at little baby Routledge.
The worst years of his life, only peppered with good from his Pogues, felt like lifetimes behind him. All of the pain he experienced faded like his scars. He only had the good parts now, and there wasn’t a chance on Earth he’d let them slip away.
“I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask you,” JJ said, hesitant not because he was unsure, but because there was still a fear in the far depths of his mind that you’d leave him. It was stupid, you had told him that a million and three times, but he couldn’t help the faint voice in the back of his head pestering him in a whisper.
You silently waited for him to continue. As he worked up the courage, he closed his eyes for just a second, picturing the same little dream he’d created in his head not long after meeting you.
“We’ve got a pretty good thing goin’, huh?” he started.
A breathy laugh fell from your lips. “I’d say so.”
“Right, and I, um, I don’t really want it to end, you know?”
You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his nose. “I don’t plan on it ending, JJ. It’s you and me, remember?”
He did; he remembered the promise you made not long after you first met. It started off as a pack between friends, but it morphed into something deeper. You and him. If he had anything, he had that to hold on to.
“Yeah,” he whispered, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the ring he had stolen a while back with the intention of, one day, slipping it on your finger. Leaning back from you, he held up the ring between two fingers, letting the dainty silver shine in the growing moonlight. “You and me. Forever, maybe?”
It took a moment for realization to dawn on you, but it struck with force. Your eyes blew wide, and your mouth fell open in a humorous and bewildered laugh. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
JJ nodded, sheepishly using his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I probably should have gotten down on one knee, right? To be fair, it’s my first time.” He went to lower himself onto the dock, but you stopped him, cupping his face in your hands.
“And it’s perfect,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes. “I would love to marry you, JJ Maybank.”
He felt like he was going to cry too from the pure excitement and love that swelled inside his chest. Blinking back his own happy tears, he took your hand and slid the ring on your finger. It wasn’t some extravagant engagement ring, but it fit like a glove on your finger like it had been made for you. The smile on your face was enough confirmation that you liked it.
You kissed him, the warm metal of the ring pressed against his cheek. It was a feeling he was looking forward to getting used to. To kiss you forever, until you’re old and gray and yelling at kids to get off your lawn. JJ used to have a hard time looking past eighteen, trying to figure out what he’d become if he made it that far. Would he be locked up like every adult in his life used to tell him? Would he end up like his father or the man he used to think was his father?
But he didn’t have to worry anymore, about any of it. He made it past eighteen and a different path awaited him, a good one, a happy one.
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birthday special | lando norris x f!reader | smut | minors DNI!
warnings, tags, and notes: smut, oral sex (fem and masc), eating cake while getting your pussy eaten (lol), mentions of drinking, Lando having the tiniest existential crisis, fingering, happy birthday to the only boy ever <3
Lando groaned softly when his eyes opened in the morning, already knowing he woke up too early on a day off. But he quickly relaxed back into the sheets when he felt your warm body against his, head tucked into the side of his neck, he was content with laying there for a few more hours. He didn’t know that you were already awake, having looked at his peaceful, sleeping face when you had woken up.
You waited a few minutes to shift, murmuring a soft ‘good morning, baby’ as Lando tightened his hold around you. He grunts something back in response, eyes still heavy from sleep. You peppered kisses over his neck, eliciting a soft sound from Lando, your hands tracing down his warm body, making the Brit squirm. “Your hands are cold,” He sighed, relishing in your kisses. “Happy birthday, Lan,” You whispered into his skin.
Lando smiles at the low congratulations, murmuring a ’thank you’ before pulling you closer, turning you both over, and having you sit on his lap. Lando sighed with contentment, watching you with adoring eyes. Hair messy and his t-shirt resting over your frame, it’s better than anything he could have asked for.
Your hands now run down his bare chest, touching and feeling the skin you had access to at any time of the day, Lando’s wolfish smile beaming up at you as his hands rested on your hips, sliding under your sleeping shirt and tracing over your panties. “Look at you,” He hummed, shifting your hips so that you moved over his morning wood, making both of you groan out in pleasure. Lando entertains the idea of sinking into you and sleeping through the rest of the morning, meeting up with his parents later, but you have something else planned.
You slide down his lap and settle between his legs, planting your hands on his thighs as you gaze up at him. “Wanted to give my sweet boy something special on his birthday morning,” Lando’s dazed expression makes you giggle, his fingers gripping onto the meat on your hips.
Lando takes a deep breath when he feels your lips around the tip of his cock, your hands having pulled his boxers down. He leaned his head back on the pillows, getting comfortable while fighting back the urge to buck his hips into your mouth.
Morning head on his birthday sounded heavenly, it was more than he could have asked for. Lando doesn’t last long, quickly finishing in your mouth and pulling you back up to him for a kiss.
You managed to begrudgingly get Lando out of bed, still lazy from his first birthday treat. There were a few moments when Lando realized he was turning 25, a very real, very adult age. While avoiding a midlife crisis, you got him to get ready so you could go visit his family, who had landed in Monaco last night so they could celebrate Lando’s birthday.
Everything was perfect, all the people he loved gathered around for a nice brunch. His parents, brother and sisters, friends, cousins, grandparents, and you, the person he most loved.
He laughed and had the best of time, getting a small cake so the people he loves can celebrate him, and even now at 25 he still doesn’t know where to look when they’re singing happy birthday to him. So he settles to look at you.
Later into the day you and Lando had decided to go out clubbing with a few friends for some more adult fun, a few of the drivers from the grid coming out to wish him a nice one.
Lando’s tipsy and he’s happy, happier than he’s been in a while. He gets to hold you and kiss you, be celebrated by you, and just have a good day. So when you both come back stumbling into your apartment, tipsy and gleeful, Lando is insatiable. Ever since you both grabbed a cab back home he’s been all over you, whispering dirty promises and sweet nothings into your ears.
You’re hungry when you walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water, Lando whining for you to come to bed, wanting to have you undressed. “Baby, come on,” He sighs, bent over and leaning on the kitchen island, gazing at you. “Hold on, birthday boy, I’m hungry.” When you open the door to the fridge nothing looks too appetizing except for Lando’s birthday cake.
When Lando watches you stab a fork into his birthday cake, he smiles softly, walking towards you so he can settle his hands on your hips. “Gimme some,” He murmurs as he pulls you closer by your hips. You fork into the cake and stab him a piece, feeding it to him with a smile. Lando hums at the fluffy and sweet taste, the buttercream frosting melting across his tongue. “Come here,” He whispers, lifting you so you sit kitchen island. Your eyes gaze into his, dragging down his body, admiring the chain that hangs low on his chest, the few buttons he left open on his dress shirt taunting her to take it all off.
Lando’s lips quickly press against your neck, mouthing over the heated skin, licking and biting gently. A soft moan escapes your lips as Lando spreads your legs apart, settling himself between them. “Lemme have another bite,” Lando then whispers against your lips. Lando’s hands rest on the top of your thighs, waiting expectantly with a dazed smile.
You both share a few more bites of cake before the Brit decides he wants to eat something else. Slow, deliberate kisses are pressed down your chest, your party dress having been pushed down earlier. When he reaches the heat of your core he practically moans, hungry for more.
Your hands run down the nape of his neck, coming back up to play with his curls when he pulls your panties down, pressing his nose against your core and smirking, littering kisses over your inner thigh before practically making out with your cunt.
“Taste so good,” Lando moans, your hips bucking up against his mouth, whimpers falling from your lips with ease. Lando hums and nips gently against your clit, making you jolt and hit him swiftly in the back of his head, causing a laugh from the man between your legs.
Lando eats you out like a man starved, whining and thrusting into the air as he looks up at you, eyes hooded and nose pressed against your bundle of nerves. Your body felt like it was on constant overdrive, a wave of hot and cold washing over you.
“Oh, fuck, Lan,” You moan out, the sound resounding a bit in the fairly quiet apartment, the only other sound being the squelch between your legs, Lando’s tongue doing wonders for your pleasure. “H-hey, I should be the one pleasing you,” You chuckle breathlessly, cheeks flushed and feeling a beginning coil in your stomach.
“This is a pleasure to me,” Lando mumbles against your pussy, pulling back to lick his lips and dip two fingers, making your mouth open in a loud moan. “That’s it, pretty girl, I know you’re close,” He smirks, knees starting to ache from kneeling on them.
With one hand in his curls and the other one gripping the edge of the kitchen island, your hips buck up onto Lando’s digits, your bottom lip trembling when he blows air against your core. “Please, please, lemme cum, Lan, feels so good,” You plead, eyes staring down into pretty green eyes, his smile widening as you beg.
“Come on, baby, cum on my fingers,” Lando says, lips quickly going back to suck on your clit while his fingers pump in and out of your runny cunt, his soft chuckles sending shockwaves throughout your body.
When pleasure overcomes you, a delicious coil unwinding in your stomach, Lando licks up into your pussy, relishing in the slick and cleaning you up.
Lando stands up from between your legs and licks his fingers, crashing his lips into yours so you can taste yourself on his tongue. “So sweet,” He murmurs against your lips, one of his hands coming up to swipe at his birthday cake, finger dipping into the frosting before he presses the digits against your bottom lip, prompting you to suck the yummy buttercream off.
“And that’s even sweeter,” Lando cheekily adds, a small giggle escaping him once you roll your eyes at him.
Now as the night ends and you’re both in the bathtub, soaking in the bubbles, Lando realizes that this is all he could have ever wanted. Sure, the presents and the company were nice, but all he wanted was you, and his wishes were granted.
The Brit relaxes against your chest, freshly cut mullet damp and sticking to the nape of his neck, his eyes closed as your hands rested over his stomach under the water. “I love you,” Lando says, “Thank you for today, it’s been really nice.” He smiled to himself, knowing that this would be one of the many memorable birthdays he had. “I love you too, baby,” You whisper back to him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Happy birthday, Lando.”
<3
#[v won’t stfu]#ln4#lando norris#pretty boy#AGSAH I MIGHT DO SOMETHING FOR MY FAVES BIRTHDAYS NOW#lando norris angst#lando norris smut#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#ln#ln04#lando norris smau#lando x reader#lando smut#little lando norris#happy birthday lando!!!#[my writing!!]
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I kind of want them to ask Captain Marvel what his family was like growing up, and for him to just freeze, and his face goes entirely blank(He’s panicking because what is he supposed to say???!??) and he automatically looks over at Freddy and Mary, and he looks them over(he’s trying to make sure they aren’t hurt because trauma) before turning back to the League and smiling in a way they can all see is strained.
“Excuse me, I need to go.” And he just goes over to Freddy and Mary and they leave not long after.
I feel like the league would rather think that Captain Marvel had a terrible childhood and now is trying to be a good parent, but doesn’t realize certain things are bad than thinking their colleague is an abusive parent.
All of that to say, I can’t stop thinking about Black Canary or Green Arrow giving him a parenting book for parents who were abused as kids(I also have the mental image of Flash just throwing it at his head and running away)
Marvel Being a Terrible “Dad”
In the league’s point of view, Billy has to be a terrible dad… and if he’s not their dad… why is a grown ass man hanging around with these kids? So for peace of mind, they assume Jr. and Mary are his kids. I mean, they kinda look like him. Kinda. Like, I can already see a good portion of them not really liking that he’s letting Freddy and Mary fight bloodthirsty monsters and villains. But, even the heroes that don’t mind that have to take a minute to process Marvel congratulating Mary for going off and doing something extremely reckless:
*They all just watched as Mary flew into an alien spaceship to take it down from the inside out. They knew nothing about the ship, just that it was hostile.*
Mary: *Flies back down from the ship, covered in soot. Lands by Marvel.*
Superman: *Flies over to them* “That was extremely reck—”
Billy: *cuts off* “Mary, that was amazing!”
Superman: “Cap, that wasn’t amazing. It was extremely reckless! She could’ve gotten himself killed!” *gestures to Freddy wildly.*
Billy: “But she didn’t!” *gives thumbs up* “Come on, let’s get victory ice cream.”
*The two fly off*
or
*All of them are talking about their kids, eating together at a little lunch table in the Watchtower’s cafeteria like middle schoolers*
Superman: “I wouldn’t let Jon fight any of my villains alone. Most of them, anyways.”
Billy: “Why? Is he not strong enough?”
Superman: “Well, I’m sure he is, but I don’t want him to get hurt, or traumatized. Being a hero can be harsh at times. He’s just a kid.”
Billy: “So? Just cause he’s a kid doesn’t mean that he can’t fight. Just let him.”
Superman: “What? I can’t just let him. How would you feel if Junior or Mary had to fight Black Adam on their own?”
Billy: *shrugs* “Depends. Are they gonna fight him individually or together?”
Batman: *Eating a bat shaped sandwich, made by Alfred* “Individually.”
Billy: “Oh, yeah. Sure. I could trust them to handle Adam alone. I don’t think they could incapacitate him though. A couple times, when I’ve been busy, they’ve held him off for me until I get there.”
Flash: “You just let two little kids (Freddy and Mary look like pre-teens) go out and fight Black Adam? The same Black Adam that destroyed like a quarter of Metropolis in a day?”
Billy: “When you put it like that, it sounds crazy.” *Eats spaghettios*
Green Lantern: “Dude, it is crazy.”
Billy: “Wha? No it’s not. Wondy, when’d you start training for being a whole Amazonian warrior princess?”
Wonder Woman: “When I started adolescence.” *Eats ice cream*
Billy: “Seeeee? It’s fine.”
Martian Manhunter: “How old exactly are Mary and Junior?” *Also eats ice cream*
Billy: “Mary’s eleven and Junior’s twelve, they’re close enough.”
*All except Marvel exchange slightly concerned glances*
or
*Marvel and Junior are bickering next to one of the windows of the Watchtower.*
Black Canary: *Minding her own business and walks past them.*
Billy: “How about I slam your head through this window so we can really see if you can breathe in space, huh?”
*Canary pauses, and wow. Junior didn’t even flinch. That’s actually crazy. The bickering just got worse. This really doesn’t look good from a licensed therapist’s point of view.*
#billy batson#fawcett city#freddy freeman#captain marvel dc#dc captain marvel#shazam#fawcett comics#fawcett#captain marvel jr#mary batson#misunderstandings#justice league#concerned Justice League
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ᡣ𐭩 winter is cold in tokyo — itoshi rin
contains: reader gender isn’t mentioned but you have a brother, meet cute, not proof read
a/n: I kind of want to continue this into a pt 2 but knowing myself it probably won’t happen soz
You first met Rin at your older brother Hiro’s football game.
Your parents had dragged you along despite your protests that it was too cold to be sitting outside.
In the car, your mom argued, “You need to support your brother.”
“You’ll regret not watching me when I grow up to be a super-famous football player,” Hiro added, sticking his tongue out from the front seat of the family SUV.
“As if you’ll ever be good,” you mumbled under your breath, burying your face in your thick winter scarf.
The moment your mom parked the car, Hiro bolted out to join his team on the field. Your mom sighed, clearly not surprised, before turning to help you out.
“I need to talk to the other moms about the end-of-season party. Stay nearby,” she said, though her words barely registered as you trudged behind her, more focused on keeping warm than on following directions.
Your mom disappeared into the crowd of chatting parents. Despite her instructions, you wandered near the field where Hiro was already running drills with his teammates. He was shouting and laughing as if the cold didn’t bother him at all.
Typical Hiro.
You settled in a spot between the field and the parents, a place where your mother could still see you but far enough away that you didn’t have to listen to arguments over whose house the party should be at.
The ground was cold underneath your thighs—not cold enough to make you stand, though. You picked at a patch of half-frozen grass for a minute before the chill started to creep into your toes through your boots, making you regret every life decision that led you to this place.
You hugged your scarf tighter around your face, determined to get through this dumb soccer game by sheer force of will—or by sulking through most of it.
Your eyes flickered between Hiro, laughing with his teammates on the field, and your mom, chatting with the other parents, a bright smile on her face.
She leaned in closer to one of them, nodding as if they’d just come to an agreement on whose house would host.
It seemed as if everyone around you belonged somewhere. They were connected and warm.
You shifted around on the ground, trying to get comfortable as the cold bit through your layers. The laughter and voices blurred into the distance; none of the noise was meant for you.
Even the air began to feel sharper, like it stung more because no one was distracting you from it. It was as if the air itself was mocking you.
Your gaze drifted back to the field. Hiro was grinning without a care in the world. You had always envied how effortless it was for Hiro to find people, to always belong, for others to want him around.
A gust of wind sent shivers down your spine, and you curled up into yourself, wishing you could disappear into the scarf around your neck.
It made you wonder if anyone noticed you sitting there, alone. Would anyone notice if you got up to use the bathroom? You probably could just leave, and no one would care.
“Can I sit here?” a voice interrupted your thoughts, soft but kind.
You blinked and looked up. A boy around your age stood a few feet away, his cheeks pink from the cold. His long underlashes stood out on his round face, and he was wearing a too-big hoodie under his coat. In his hands was a thermos, steam curling from the lid.
“Sure,” you muttered before scooting over. You didn’t have a reason to say no.
“Thank you,” he said, giving you a small smile before sitting beside you. He unscrewed the lid of the thermos, the rich scent of hot chocolate wafting out. It made you jealous—you wished you’d asked your mom for hot chocolate before leaving.
“Is your brother playing?” you asked.
“Mhm! He’s the redhead!” He pointed toward the field. You followed his finger to a red-haired player who looked exactly like him—underlashes and all.
You recognized the older boy as Itoshi Sae. Hiro always complained about how Sae acted all high and mighty because he was a good player, but you could always tell Hiro admired Sae’s skill.
“My brother is the one with a bad haircut. He says he’s gonna go pro, but I won’t buy it.” You stuck your tongue out at the thought of Hiro going pro. “Oh! What’s your name?”
“Rin.” He unscrewed the lid of his thermos and took a small sip. “Sae says he’s gonna go pro, and I believe him. Sae is the best football player ever!”
“Are you sure?” you asked. “They got beat by another team a few weeks ago.”
“Sae still got the most goals on his team. Once he joins a better club than this one, he’s gonna get even better.”
You furrowed your brow at the slight insult toward Hiro. “What makes you say he won’t suck on another team?”
Rin blinked at you, his expression shifting to one of quiet confidence. “Because Sae doesn’t lose. He plays to be the best, not just to win. And when he’s on the field, it’s like he dominates the area.” Awe shone through his voice. “Sae is different.”
“That’s kind of intense.” You stared at him for a moment, surprised by how sure he sounded.
Rin shrugged and took a longer sip from his thermos. “That’s just Sae. He’s not the type to care about what anyone thinks as long as he’s getting better.”
Rin glanced at the field. You followed his gaze again and watched as Sae effortlessly weaved through a drill. Even from a decent distance, you could see how differently Sae moved compared to his teammates. Every step he took seemed deliberate and precise.
Hiro, on the other hand, was laughing on the ground with another teammate. You rolled your eyes.
“My brother is a clown. I don’t think he’s serious about football because he’s never been serious about anything in his entire life.”
Rin tilted his head at your words. “He probably plays because he loves it. He doesn’t have anything to prove.”
You frowned; his words lingered in the air between you. He was probably right, though. Hiro always talked big, but there wasn’t much effort to give him credit for. Still, you weren’t about to let Rin off the hook for mildly insulting your brother, even if Hiro sometimes needed humbling.
“Well then, if Sae is so amazing, Hiro just needs to beat him one day.” You said it half-jokingly.
Rin frowned. “Good luck with that. Sae doesn’t lose to anyone.”
“Oh, really?” You raised a brow at his confidence. “Everyone loses eventually. You might even beat him one day if you play.”
“I don’t want to beat Sae,” Rin said with a small smile. “I want to play beside him and be the best after him.”
His smile quickly vanished as he looked back at you with a small frown. “Sae definitely won’t lose. Especially not to your brother.”
Rin shook his head, looking at you like you just didn’t get it—and maybe you didn’t.
You sighed. “Oh well. What do I know? I’m only here because my mom forced me to be.”
“Figures. You don’t look like you want to be here.”
“Wow, thanks,” you deadpanned, though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.
Rin looked over at you. The expression on his face was unreadable. “You just look like you’d rather be anywhere else than here.”
You glanced at the field again, watching the players laugh and shout, Hiro the loudest. “Yeah, well… I kind of would.” You sighed into your scarf. “What about you?” you asked, mostly out of politeness. You already know the answer.
Rin didn’t say anything for a moment, but when you looked back at him, he was smiling—small and quiet. “It’s not too bad here.”
You weren’t entirely sure if he meant watching the game or sitting next to you, but for some reason, his words made the cold feel just a little less biting and for the first time that day, you felt a little less miserable.
written by koudi
#꩜.ᐟ koudi writes#itoshi rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#blue lock x reader#blue lock#blue lock x you#bllk x reader#bllk x you#bllk fluff
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older sisters best friend g!p Daniela x fem reader???
Readers older sister and dani have a sleepover at reader house and dani just can't stop taking her eyes off of reader and she finally makes a move when she steps in reader room in order to check up on her.
One word: backshots
Reader(who's much shorter compared to dani) and dani have a 2 year age gap
Please and Thank you<333
make a move — daniela avanzini
daniela avanzini x fem!reader
tags: dom!dani, g!p dani, lil bit of praise
masterlist
MEN AND MINORS DNI
the house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors. the air was thick with the scent of lavender and vanilla, remnants of the candles your sister had lit earlier. dani, your sister's best friend, was sprawled out on the couch, her long legs draped over the armrest, her eyes never straying far from you. you could feel the weight of her gaze, a simmering tension that made your skin tingle.
dani was two years older than you, and she was much taller, with a lean, athletic build that spoke of hours spent dancing. her blonde hair cascaded down her back in curls, and her eyes were a piercing hazel, always seeming to see right through you. you, on the other hand, were much shorter, barely reaching her shoulder, and your frame was slender, almost delicate in comparison.
you’ve always had a bit of a crush on dani. you’ve never acted on your feelings, of course, dani is your sister's friend, and you've always been the responsible one in the family.
but tonight, as you're all gathered at your house for a sleepover, you can't help but notice the way dani keeps looking at you. she’s lounging on the couch, her long legs stretched out in front of her, and she keeps glancing over at you with a little smile on her face.
"i’m going to run to the grocery store to get some more snacks," your sister says, grabbing her keys. "you two be good."
as soon as she's gone, dani turns to you. "hey, can i come up to your room for a sec?" she asks.
you nod, feeling your heart start to race. you lead her up to your bedroom and close the door behind you. dani looks around, her eyes taking in your posters, your books, your bed.
without another word, she pushes the door closed behind her and leaned against it, her eyes never leaving yours.
"dani..." you began, but she cut you off with a shake of her head.
"shh," she whispered, her voice low and husky. "don’t say anything."
she pushed off the door and took a step towards you, her movements slow and deliberate. you could feel the heat radiating off her body, the air between you thick with anticipation. she reached out, her fingers brushing against your cheek, her touch light and teasing.
"you’re so beautiful," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "so perfect."
you shivered at her words, your breath catching in your throat. she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "i know you want me too."
you nodded, unable to form words, your body trembling with need. whe chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. she pulled back slightly, her eyes raking over your body, taking in every detail.
"good," she said, her voice filled with satisfaction. as she presses her body against yours, you can feel the heat radiating off of her. your hands explore her curves, gripping her hips and pulling her closer. dani’s lips are soft and inviting as they press against yours, immediately moving, and you can't help but let out a low moan as she deepens the kiss.
"i’ve wanted to do this all night," dani says, breaking the kiss for a moment. her voice is husky and full of desire.
"mmf—me too," you reply, your own voice barely above a whisper.
your hands continue to roam dani’s body, and she does the same to you. you can feel her fingers tracing the outline of your breasts over your shirt, and you can't help but arch your back, pressing yourself into her touch. "you’re so fucking hot," dani murmurs, her lips finding yours once again.
as she continues to kiss you, your hands make their way under each other's clothes. you can feel the warmth of dani’s fingertips against your back as she caresses your skin.
she grips your hips and pushes you back, forcing you to stumble onto your bed with her following shortly after. as she climbed on top of you, she reached down, her fingers deftly unbuttoning your jeans. you gasped as she slid them down your legs, your underwear following soon after.
"on your back," she commanded, her voice firm and authoritative.
you obeyed, your heart pounding in your chest as you turned and propped your ass up. she moved behind you, you could hear her belt being taken off and her pants rustling as her hands gripped your hips as she positioned herself. you could feel the head of her cock pressing against you, the heat of it searing through your skin.
"ready?" she asked, her voice low and rough.
you nodded, your breath hitching in your throat as she pushed inside you, her cock filling you. inch by inch, you let out quiet whimpers, her fingers digging crescents into your hips. as she bottomed out, she let a soft groan out. “tell me when i can—mmf—move.”
after a second or two of adjusting, you looked back and gave her a nod. as her hips began to move, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you. her cock slid in and out of you, the friction building with each thrust. you cried out, your body trembling with pleasure as she fucked you.
"fuck, you feel so good," dani whimpered, her voice husky with desire. ”so goddamn—tight!” she leaned forward, her lips brushing against your ear as the sounds of you hips clapping together grew louder.
you could feel her body pressed against yours, her skin slick with sweat. her hands gripped your hips, her fingers digging into your flesh as she thrust into you. “oh dani—oh my god—“
as she fucked you harder, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to coming. dani reached around and began to play with your clit, rubbing and pinching which sent you over the edge. you cried out, your body shaking with pleasure as you came.
dani fucked you through your orgasm, her pace increasing as she neared her own orgasm. finally, her head came down on your shoulder as she let out a loud moan, her body shuddering as she came. she collapsed on top of you, the two of you panting and sweating in the aftermath.
#daniela avanzini#daniela avanzini x reader#daniela x reader#dani x reader#katseye#katseye x femreader#katseye imagine#katseye smut#katseye x reader#gxg imagine#gxg smut#daniela avanzini x femreader#dani x femreader#daniela x femreader#daniela avanzini imagine#daniela avanzini fic
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Café Moments- Quinn hughes
Quinn hughes x reader
Super cute and long just for you guys!
Masterlist
Quinn Hughes had heard all about Vancouver’s charm, but it wasn’t until he found himself on the ice against his brother, Jack, that he truly got to experience the city. Jack had been raving about a little café he’d discovered one morning before a game—a small, family-run spot tucked away on a quiet street.
“You’ve got to check it out, Q,” Jack had said over the phone the night before. “It’s cozy, good coffee, and the best part? There’s this really cute barista. You’ll love it.”
Quinn chuckled, knowing his brother’s love for a good cup of coffee—and the cute barista wasn’t a bad bonus either. But Quinn had been focused on the upcoming game. He didn’t have much time for distractions. Still, after his team’s practice the next day, he decided to take a walk around the city, just to clear his head before the big match. And Jack’s café recommendation was still lingering in his mind.
The little café was nestled in a quiet corner of the city, away from the usual tourist spots. When Quinn walked in, he noticed the warm, inviting atmosphere—old wooden tables, soft lighting, and the smell of fresh-brewed coffee filling the air. There was an elderly couple sitting at a table by the window, chatting quietly as they sipped their drinks, creating an aura of comfort that was rare to find in a city full of hustle.
And then, there was *her*.
Behind the counter, a beautiful girl stood, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, wearing glasses that framed her face perfectly. She had on a work apron with the café’s logo, a simple design of a steaming cup of coffee and a swirl of cream, that added to her effortless charm. She was focused, stirring something in a cup, but when Quinn approached the counter, she looked up. Her eyes met his, and for a second, the bustling café seemed to fade into the background.
“Hi, are you ready to order?” she asked, her voice soft and warm as she gazed at him through her lashes. There was a slight hint of curiosity in her smile, as if she was used to customers but maybe not one who looked like a hockey player.
Quinn blinked for a moment, still processing how pretty she was. He quickly shook himself out of it and cleared his throat.
“Uh, yeah. I’ll take an iced coffee with caramel,” he said, his voice coming out a bit more casually than he meant. He couldn’t help but glance at her, a little flustered by the instant connection he felt.
She gave him a smile, nodding. “Okay, great. Would that be all?”
Quinn hesitated for a moment, wanting to keep talking. There was something about her—something that made him want to know more. He leaned in slightly, his curiosity getting the best of him.
“What’s your name?” he asked, before realizing how forward that might have sounded.
She raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’m Y/N,” she said, then added, “What about you?”
“Quinn,” he replied, his nerves fading slightly as he relaxed into the conversation. He was so used to being recognized for his hockey career, but in this moment, Y/N didn’t seem fazed by who he was. She was just... *Y/N*, and he liked that. A lot.
“Well, Quinn, your iced coffee will be ready in just a minute,” Y/N said, her tone light and friendly. She busied herself with his order, and for a moment, Quinn just stood there, watching her with a smile.
He had so many questions—about the café, about her, about how someone as charming as her ended up working here—but before he could think of what to say next, another customer walked in. Y/N greeted them, her attention shifting away from him, and Quinn realized that he had been caught up in the moment more than he had realized. He should’ve asked for her number, but before he could work up the courage, his iced coffee was ready, and he found himself reaching for it, a little disappointed.
“Thanks,” Quinn said, giving her a smile. “I’ll, uh, see you around.”
Y/N smiled back, her eyes twinkling. “Enjoy your coffee, Quinn.”
He turned and left, walking back down the street, but the encounter lingered in his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it had felt to talk to her, how natural everything had been, even though they were complete strangers. But he’d forgotten to ask for her number, and now it seemed like too much time had passed.
The next few days were a blur of games, practices, and the excitement of being back in Vancouver. But no matter how much he tried to focus on hockey, he couldn’t shake the thought of that café—or Y/N. He found himself wondering if he’d ever see her again. A week passed, and Quinn didn’t get a chance to go back. He kept telling himself that he was too busy, that he had other things to focus on. But the nagging feeling that he’d let something slip through his fingers refused to go away.
Finally, after a game against his brother and a long night of reflecting on the loss, Quinn decided to make the trip back to the café. It was his last day in Vancouver before heading back to his own team’s city, and he couldn’t leave without trying to see her again. The moment he walked through the door, the bell above it jingled, and Y/N looked up from behind the counter, a welcoming smile appearing on her face when she saw him.
“Back for more coffee?” she asked, her voice light and teasing.
Quinn stepped up to the counter, his heart racing. He didn’t want to be awkward about it, but he’d regretted not asking for her number the first time. This time, he wasn’t going to let that chance slip away.
“I was actually hoping you could help me with something,” he said, trying to sound casual but failing. His fingers drummed on the counter nervously.
“Oh?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
Quinn took a deep breath. “I, uh, wanted to ask you if... you’d like to grab coffee sometime? I know we just met, but I’d really like to get to know you better.”
Y/N smiled, the kind of smile that made Quinn’s heart do a little flip. “I’d like that,” she said, her eyes softening. “You can, uh, give me your number and I’ll text you.”
Quinn laughed, relieved. “I should’ve done this last time,” he admitted, pulling out his phone. “I’m kind of bad at this.”
Y/N just grinned, taking his phone to put in her number. “It’s okay, Quinn. I’m glad you came back.”
As she handed his phone back to him, Quinn smiled. He’d finally done it—he’d finally asked the question that had been on his mind all week. And maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new. Something he was excited about.
With a small wave and a promise to text her soon, Quinn left the café, a smile on his face as he walked down the Vancouver streets. Maybe hockey wasn’t the only thing he’d been destined to find in this city after all.
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#hockey#nhl#nhl x reader#fanfic#quinn hughes x oc#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes fluff#qh43#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes smut#quinn hughes#vancouver canada#vancouver canucks#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl hockey#nhl fluff
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hard to ignore (two-shot) (part two)
pairing singledad! zach maclaren x nanny! female reader
summary when you’re offered a job as a nanny, you can tell right away that you’ll grow fond of the little girl you’re taking care of. things are easy to manage until you realize you’re falling for her dad.
content warning parental abandonment
» part one
» masterlist
Zach gets you and his daughter box seats for his next home game.
It happens to be on your first day back at work after his family leaves and he jokes that sooner is better than later, not only because his team might get knocked out of the playoffs, but also because Ella could change her mind about wanting to come.
The private space overlooking the stadium is small, only a handful of other people there, as the late afternoon sun shines over the rich green field.
You learned that Zach is a major league soccer player minutes into meeting him. You knew he had an unusual life and a certain level of notoriety as a professional athlete. But seeing the crowds filling the seats below you makes it real to you.
The music and the announcer’s voice boom through the stadium, fireworks going off as players rush the field. All this craziness doesn’t match the man you know. Zach is kind and humble and beneath his silly sense of humor, he has a gentleness to him that you’d never expect from someone whose last name is sprawled over fans’ jerseys, who’s getting cheered for so loudly that it’s deafening.
Ella excitedly claps when her father appears on the stadium screen, his face hard as he jogs under the bright lights. You gaze ahead in awe, unable to believe that this is the world he lives in when he’s not at the house, running around with his daughter, thanking you for everything you do.
After the game ends in a draw, you take Ella home in time for dinner. As you drive, wipers cleaning away the drizzle that just started to fall, she excitedly rambles about the experience from the backseat. You smile to yourself, glad that she enjoyed herself and proud that you’re the reason she went.
As usual, Ella slips out of her chair with a mouthful of food when she hears the front door open halfway into dinner. You watch her dart out of the dining room, listening to the huff Zach lets out every time his daughter roughly launches herself into his arms.
“That was so cool!” you overhear.
“Really?” he says. “You didn’t get bored?”
“Um, it was kind of too long,” she says, “but I had pictures to color.”
“Appreciate your honesty,” Zach replies with a laugh.
They round the corner to enter the dining room and when Zach’s eyes land on you, your heart does a somersault.
“Hey,” he says to you, nervous.
“Hi,” you reply. “Thanks for the fancy seats.”
“They were alright?”
“Good enough for two princesses,” you tease.
“Princess ballerinas,” Ella corrects you as she sits down again.
“Right,” you say. “Sorry. I keep forgetting that we’re princess ballerinas now.”
Zach mirrors your smile, loving the feeling of sharing a moment like this with you. You stand to clean your plate and it reminds him of what his mother said a couple of nights ago. That you look at him the same way he looks at you.
He hopes that it’s true, because he can’t take his eyes off of you. He’s a little embarrassed that you saw him in a match. He’s always loved soccer, but he never liked how much attention is on him as a major league player.
“Maybe you should wait out the rain,” Zach says to you. “It started coming down hard on my drive home.”
“Good idea,” you say, happy to spend more time with him.
The rest of dinner consists of Ella happily chattering with you and Zach. As she clears her plate, Zach’s phone buzzes on the table top. His lips purse in worry at the notification, and then he shows you the severe thunderstorm warning message on his screen.
“That looks bad,” you say. “How long is it supposed to go on for?”
“It says into the early morning,” Zach answers. “Do you want to crash here?”
“I’m sure I could make it home,” you say. “I’ll just drive slowly.”
Zach’s lips part, and then he closes his mouth, simply nodding.
“What?” you chuckle. His eyes dart away.
“Just worried about you,” he admits. You huff an endeared laugh.
“Fine. I’ll sleep here,” you decide.
He sighs a breath of relief and says, “Thanks.”
Zach takes Ella to bed and you settle on the couch, glad you already have everything you’ll need in your overnight bag in the guest room. You eventually hear his footsteps coming down the stairs over the sounds of the television and the rain hammering down on the roof.
He sits on the other end of the couch next to you, so far that a person could easily sit between you. It’s typical Zach, never getting too close to you. The only time he’s ever touched you is when he shook your hand before your interview half a year ago.
“She fell asleep while I was explaining what offside means,” he says with an adorably puzzled expression. “Trying not to be offended.”
“I can’t believe she’s actually interested in soccer,” you say.
“Ouch.” Zach puts his hand over his heart. “Okay, I’m offended now.”
“I mean because you said she never cared before,” you laugh.
“I asked her so many times if she’d want to come to a game,” he huffs. “But you suggest it once and she’s immediately in. She always listens to you.”
“Not when I’m trying to convince her to leave the park,” you say. He chuckles. “Can you believe she’s starting kindergarten soon?”
Admittedly, Zach’s concerned about it. In less than a month, Ella will be going to school and he never was one to have much anxiety before he became a father, but all he does now is worry. He doesn’t want any teachers or kids to be harsh with his little girl. She’s already been through enough.
“She’ll be okay,” you say.
“What?”
“You have that worried look on your face,” you tell him. “She’ll love school. I’m sure of it.”
“You can read me pretty well,” he says, smiling. You shrug timidly, thinking back to how quickly he’d noticed something was bothering you on the night of Ella’s birthday.
“What?” he asks.
“It goes both ways,” you admit. “You saw right through me after the party.”
Zach’s jaw tightens, the playfulness between you replaced by a fragile air. He takes a breath before speaking. He knows he needs to have this conversation with you.
“Do you feel better about what she said?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you reply. Now that you’ve had some time to process, you’re okay. “How about you?”
“Well,” he begins, nerves tightening in his stomach, “it wasn’t easy to hear. Ella shouldn’t have to wish she had a different mom. Jade should be here for her.”
He’s never said her name. He’s never looked like this before, his eyes avoiding yours, hand trembling a bit as he scratches his jaw. You can tell this is hard for him to talk about. But he’s choosing to do it with you.
“You said ex-wife that night, but she was never my wife,” Zach admits.
“Oh. Sorry. I just assumed.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I know I haven’t told you much. When we talked that night, it reminded me of just how much you don’t know about it. I just… I hope you know that you’re… you’re so much more than Ella’s nanny. You’re our friend. And you’re obviously a mother figure to her. And it feels weird that you don’t know what happened.”
His words sink into you, every syllable having an effect on your heartbeat.
“What happened?”
“Ella was a surprise,” he tells you. “Jade and I were dating in our senior year of college when we found out she was pregnant. And then I got drafted into the league and we graduated and everything was happening so fast, but we were happy and… I stayed happy and she didn’t.”
You nibble on your bottom lip, looking at him as his eyes stay trained off of yours.
“We broke up a few months after Ella was born. But we were both sure we could handle co-parenting. She stayed at home while I worked. I could see she didn’t like it, though. She wasn’t a bad mother or anything. She just wasn’t very… affectionate with Ella.”
Your chest tightens. It’s painful to imagine Ella wanting love and not getting it.
“I don’t know. I thought she’d eventually feel how I feel about being a parent. I tried everything,” Zach says, remembering how he’d encouraged Jade to go to therapy or take time away or work while they hired help. It was like she was stuck in her unhappiness. “But then she left and… that was it.”
He finally looks at you and the tenderness in your eyes gives him a breath of fresh air. It’s what you do. Just by being you, you give him the push to stay hopeful that he and his daughter will be okay.
“We weren’t in a good place when you came. But you made things so much better,” he says. “You do an amazing job taking care of her. I really appreciate it.”
Your eyes light up, the smile on your face gentle.
“Thank you for saying that,” you say. “And thank you for telling me the full story. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
Zach sighs now that the weight of reliving it is gone.
“I really do love her. I meant it when I said it.” At this point, you’re sure you love him, too, but you wouldn’t dare say it out loud. “And I feel lucky to get to watch her grow up. This doesn’t even feel like a job to me anymore.”
“So, what I’m hearing is, you don’t want the pay?” he says. You find relief in his joke, tossing your head back with a laugh. “Seriously, though, let me know if you need me to keep things the same while you’re part-time during the school year. I don’t mind.”
“Wait, are you offering to pay me for hours I’m not even working?” you chuckle. “Zach, no. I’m good. I have other things lined up. But thank you.”
“What? Everyone knows you should always accept free money.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say. “How do you even have the energy to joke around right now? I just watched you run around for ninety minutes.”
Like always, Zach blushes when you bring up his job. He’s intense and focused on the pitch, but he’s different when he’s at ease at home.
“There’s a break in the middle,” he replies.
“I stand corrected,” you say. “So, how’d you get into soccer?”
Your conversation quickly and easily drifts into topics you hadn’t explored before, the storm raging outside as you learn more about him and he learns more about you. He’s still on the other end of the couch, but soon, his arm is resting against the back of it, his hand inches away from you as you sink into the soft cushions, beaming at each other as you talk.
You don’t want to stop, but eventually you can’t stifle your yawn, prompting Zach to check his watch.
“Jeez,” he says. “Ella went down three hours ago.”
“Are you serious?” You sit up. “That flew by.”
Zach knew that the more he learned about you, the more of a goner he’d be. It feels like he just went on the best date of his life and all he did was sit on his couch and talk.
There’s something between you and he hopes that it’s not just his infatuation misguiding him.
────୨ৎ────
You were right. He had nothing to worry about. Ella’s more than happy at school. It’s only a week into the year and she’s already naming all her new friends when Zach picks her up Friday afternoon.
Her first dance recital is tonight and he’s looking forward to seeing you and his family there. Ella had even mentioned that her other grandparents could come. They were elated to get the invitation.
And of course, when he arrives at the studio that evening, you’re already there, reliable and steady like you always are. You greet him and his family warmly and introduce yourself to Jade’s parents.
It feels wrong to hear you refer to yourself as Ella’s nanny. You’ve been in his life for eight months now and you’ve nestled your way into his soul so deeply that he knows you’ll stay with him forever.
He’s been grappling with this since he first realized he had feelings for you; this bothersome sense of wrong. He can’t pursue you. Technically, no matter how much it doesn’t feel like it, he is your boss. He pays you to take care of his child. If things went sideways, it could push you to leave.
Although he’s never felt this much love for a woman in his life, it’d be selfish. He can’t do it to Ella. He didn’t even want to date other women when Jade was still around simply because it could confuse his daughter.
But you’re different.
His thoughts are interrupted when you look at him, pulling him out of his haze.
“I saved us seats,” you tell him.
Zach’s sitting between you and his father when the recital starts. Eventually, Ella drifts across the middle of the floor between the other dancers.
“This is the part she’s nervous about,” you whisper to him, recalling how she’d told you that this part in the choreography makes her trip sometimes.
You watch her hop sideways, focused as the music grows faster. You’re so on edge that you don’t realize your hand slips into Zach’s, squeezing nervously. She lands her last skip and rejoins the group. You let out a sigh of relief. Then, you look down, seeing your fingers wrapped around Zach’s.
“Sorry,” you say, trying to laugh it off as you pull your hand back. “I think I’m taking a five-year-old’s dance recital a little too seriously.”
Zach can only offer a tight smile. His team’s inching closer to advancing to the championship semi-finals and the pressure has never been heavier, but even that hasn’t affected him like the tension he’s feeling right now. His whole body is on fire from your touch, and it won’t go away.
When the recital comes to an end, Zach leans closer to you to murmur over the applause surrounding you.
“You going out to dinner with us?” he asks.
“Do I have to?” you quip.
“What, you got a date or something?” He worries that the joke was too much. Too flirty.
But you laugh and say, “I haven’t had a date or something in forever. Yeah, I’ll come.” Although it’s hard to believe that a woman like you is single, he’s glad you are.
The eight of you sit in the busy restaurant, making conversation. As Zach expected, Ella insisted she sit next to you. You have endless patience for her, listening to her talk, answering her questions, letting her pick off your plate. He would move mountains for his child. He can tell you’d do the same.
Zach picks up the bill and you all say your goodbyes to Jade’s parents, who insisted they didn’t need to stay the night. Before you head out, you tell his family it was nice to see them again. He can tell you’re a little surprised when his mother pulls you in for a hug, but you kindly return it.
Connie obviously appreciates everything you’ve done for her son and granddaughter. Zach tries not to daydream too much, but he likes imagining being your boyfriend and telling you that his mom called that you’d become something one day.
When you say bye to Zach, your gazes meet like you’ve been waiting for a private moment for ages. Things changed on the night you stayed over. You went from friends to a gray area of something more, neither of you acting on it but knowing it’s there.
Only an hour after Ella falls asleep, Zach’s parents and sister turn in for the night, tired from their drive in. Zach is too wired, silently sitting in his living room, his tea not having its usual effect of soothing him.
He goes through his camera roll, wishing he could go for a drive to relax, but not wanting to leave his daughter in case she needs him. He stares at a photo his mother took of you and him and Ella earlier tonight after the recital, Ella’s hair frizzy from all the jumping around she did.
His smile is wide and so is yours and you look like more than just someone he hired to help take care of his daughter. You look like a family.
He opens your conversation and sends you the photo. It’s nearing 10 p.m. and he’s not sure if you’re already asleep, but you respond a minute later: Aw I love this. Thanks :) How’s your night going?
Zach responds: Good… but everyone’s asleep and I’m still wide awake. Yours?
You reply: Is your tea not working?
He smiles to himself and texts back: Not this time.
You text: I’m kind of wired, too.
How come?
Not sure.
He replies with a joke: Could be Ella’s fault. I saw her eat a lot of your dinner. It’s probably hunger keeping you awake.
Once again, his mind drifts to the way your palm felt against the back of his hand tonight. Then, he hears a door open upstairs. In case it’s Ella, he quietly rushes up the stairs to run into his mom, who’s leaving the bathroom.
“Sorry,” he whispers when he startles her. “I thought Ella woke up and I didn’t want her to think I was gone.”
“I’m sure she’ll be deep asleep until the morning,” Connie says. She notices he’s still in the clothes he wore to the recital. “Can’t sleep?”
“No,” he chuckles. “I’d go for a drive, but I–”
“If she wakes up, I’m here and if she needs you, I’ll call. Go. You need to take care of yourself, too.”
“I’m fine.”
“Go for a drive,” his mother insists. “She’s okay. I promise.”
Zach considers it. With work and Ella and you, his mind has been sort of chaotic. A drive, even a short one, will give him some relief.
“Thanks,” he finally says, giving his mom a grateful smile.
The streetlights plunge him in and out of darkness as he drives through town. When he got in the car, the impulse to go see you seemed ridiculous. With every minute that passes, it feels less and less silly.
Zach eventually pulls over and looks at his phone, staring at the text message he sent you ten minutes ago. How could he even ask to come over without coming on too strong or crossing a boundary?
He’s not sure if he believed in signs from the universe before, but when you text him right when he’s considering if he should text you, he takes it as his answer.
Nothing is ever her fault. But now I’m having a midnight snack lol. Are you still awake?
He replies: Yes. Just driving around. Do you want company?
He’s nervous as he waits. But then you send him your address.
Minutes later, you open your door to gentle knocks, heart skipping when you see him. At this point, being apart from Zach is starting to hurt. You lied when you texted him. You know exactly why you’re wired. It’s because he won’t leave your mind.
“Hi,” he says, a pink hue on his cheeks. “Kind of crazy that you’ve been to my house a million times, but I have no idea what your place looks like.”
“Is that why you’re here?” you ask. “You need to see it that bad?”
“I think it’s what’s keeping me awake.”
You laugh, stepping back, inviting him in. Zach’s eyes travel over your apartment, taking in every little piece that you’ve put into it. Being here is more intimate than he expected. And then you shut the door behind him, thickening the tension, both of you now sharing complete privacy in a way you never have before.
“Is that an Ella original?” he says, pointing to a drawing stuck on your fridge.
“Yup. That’s me and her and the castle we live in,” you tell him. You lead him into the kitchen as you gaze at the bright crayon marking the paper. “And that’s her horse. She was very adamant about it being her horse. But I can pet it if I ask nicely.”
He laughs and gazes at the drawing, touched that you’d keep something his daughter made up on display. Even when you’re not at the house, you want to be reminded of her.
“Where am I?” he asks in mock offense.
“I’m sure she meant to include you, but the horse took up too much space,” you explain, looking over your shoulder up at him. He’s inches away from you, towering above you. You’re so close to him that you can see the stubble growing over his jaw.
“The tutus are a nice touch,” he says, pointing to the pink skirts drawn on both of you. You laugh and turn to face him all the way. You clear your throat, smitten that he’s really here.
“She was great tonight, huh?” you ask.
“She was.” Zach’s smile is bright, the same way it always is whenever he talks about her. “And she wanted all the grandparents there.”
“I think that’s progress.”
“Me, too.” He exhales. “It was an almost perfect night.”
“Almost?”
“My hand still hurts,” he mumbles, face pinching as he looks down at his hand.
“Listen…” you say with a bashful smile. “I’m sorry, okay? I was stressed.” Zach laughs and it takes everything in him not to hug you. “Was it really that bad?”
“So bad,” he teases, flexing his hand. “You’re too reckless.”
“Reckless? Is that what you think of me?”
Zach cocks his head, staring down at you with a look that burns through you, and soberly says, “No. It’s not.”
His gaze drifts over your face, taking you in slowly. You think back to the first time you saw those eyes, sad and distant. Comparing the way he looked that morning to how he’s gazing at you right now is like comparing black and white.
The light atmosphere has quickly been replaced by a somberness hanging over both of you. Your heart is thumping against your chest. Hard.
“What, then?” you ask.
How can he even find the words to describe how you make him feel? You fit perfectly in every way. You settled into his life like there was always a place waiting just for you. Even tonight, when you grabbed his hand for only a moment, it felt like he was born to be touched by you.
You’ve brought light to his life. He always looked forward to coming home to his daughter, and now he looks forward to coming home to you, too. And having to continue to live like this, acting like his heart isn’t completely yours, is torture.
“I think you’re…” Zach’s tone is low, lids dropping as he looks at your lips before he speaks again. “Perfect.”
Your breath catches. You’ve been able to keep yourself away from him for what feels like ages. You’re not sure you’ll have the strength for much longer. This is the moment where everything can change. You know you both feel it.
“Should I not be here?” he says quietly.
It’s his way of making sure you’re okay. That you want him to be here as badly as he wants to be here. That even though maybe this shouldn’t be happening, you have faith that it will only bring you both joy, and you don’t need to consider the risks because you’ll never have to face them.
He looks so painfully unsure that you long to comfort him. Your hand finds his and he laces his warm fingers between yours the instant he feels you. He exhales slowly, never having felt so vulnerable before.
Too much is on the line. He’s only thinking of himself right now. He shouldn’t have come here, he shouldn’t have given in, he shouldn’t have–
“Stay,” you whisper. Your simple word untangles the knot in his chest. You step closer to seal the distance that remains between you. His eyes finally drift back up to find yours.
“I can’t help how I feel about you,” Zach murmurs. “I don’t want to mess up how good things are, but I just…”
He trails off into silence, sighing shakily.
“I know,” you say. “Me, too.”
“Tell me to leave,” he says with a note of pity. You breathe a sad chuckle.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want you here.”
Zach’s grip on your hand tightens, his heart feeling like it’s just been put together after being fractured for years. His lips part and while he doesn’t know how to say how much your words mean to him, he knows how to show it.
He leans closer, cupping your face, capturing your lips with a soft and impatient kiss. You dissolve into bliss, eyelids fluttering closed as his hot mouth presses against yours, head swimming, body buzzing.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, eyelashes overlapping as you kiss deeply, hungrily tasting each other in adoration. His arms circle around you and surround you in warmth.
He lets out a short, almost silent moan against your lips, relieved and assured and grateful that you want him this badly, too. Everything about this feels right. He’s where he’s supposed to be, standing here, kissing you, baring his soul.
You’re breathless when you eventually pull away, eyes slowly opening as he tilts to plant a lazy kiss on your forehead, thumbs stroking your cheeks.
“I kept telling myself that I can’t like you,” he says against your skin. “Do you have any idea how impossible that is?”
You exhale a contented sigh, afraid that you did actually doze off and that this is all just a dream.
“I think I do,” you reply.
Zach’s laugh is breathy, leaning back just enough to look at you. He’s in awe, his lips tender from pressing against yours, his knees weak as he holds your face in his hands. Now that he doesn’t have to hide it or force himself not to stare, he lets himself drown in your eyes.
He brushes his lips against yours again and you smile under the kiss, placing your palm over his hand.
“Is this the hand I hurt?” you tease, gently squeezing.
“Ow,” he playfully winces, making you laugh. You nuzzle your cheek against his palm and smile up at him.
“You sure you like me?” you say. He’s sure he loves you, but it’s too much, too soon to say at this moment. “You know you can’t afford any injuries right now.”
“Worth it,” Zach plays along.
“I keep wanting to ask you about work,” you say. He hasn’t spoken much about playoffs, but you did a little research on his team’s standings. “How has it been? Are you stressed?”
“Pressure’s on, but I’m fine,” he says simply. Your words won’t find you at first. It’s sort of unbelievable how he doesn’t ever flaunt his success, not even a little bit.
“That’s it?” you laugh.
“What?”
“Your team could go to the finals and you’re just fine?” you say.
“How’d you know that?” he says, his heart warming.
“Had to look it up. Not like you’ll tell me,” you quip, pulling away, his hands falling off of you. Zach chuckles, following you into your living room.
“Are we fighting already?” he asks.
“We won’t be if you tell me why you get all cute and shy whenever you talk about your job,” you say, settling on the couch.
He sits to face you, his knee bumping yours. You love that he’s as close as you want him to be, instead of keeping a distance like before. He finds your hands, holding them in his.
“Just a second,” Zach mumbles. “I need to process that you called me cute.”
You giggle, leaning forward to nuzzle against his chest.
“I’m serious,” you say, your voice muffled by his shirt. “We talk about my job all the time.”
“Oh, come on. Because we have to. That’s the whole deal.”
“Is it?”
Zach sighs, kissing the top of your head, loving the way your body slightly shakes with your laughter. You sit up again, looking down as you interlace your fingers with his, playing with his hands as you wait for him to speak.
“I love soccer,” he says, “but I never expected I’d be good enough to go pro. And somehow, I did and all the attention that comes with it is just… it’s not me. I’ve never been the loudest guy in the room. Never wanted to be.”
You nod. You could tell soon after meeting him that while he’s confident and loves to joke around, he’s not one to demand the spotlight.
“And now the more attention I get,” he continues, “the more people might want to know about me and I’d rather keep Ella safe and give her a normal life.”
He scratches his cheek, uncertainty flashing on his face.
“And… I’m not exactly proud that I’m not working a normal job. I’m always thinking that maybe it’d be better for Ella if I had a nine to five, but the pay is great and I can’t play forever, so I just want to save up as much as I can for her. Then I’ll find something more steady.”
You're sure you’ve never met a person this humble. It’s nice to know what goes on in his head after having wondered for so long.
“Will you still even need a nanny then?” you ask lightheartedly. Zach purses his lips as he nods.
“I will if she’s you.” You smile as he pulls you in, holding you as your cheek rests against his shoulder.
“I don’t think there’s anything that you shouldn’t be proud of,” you tell him. “You’re an amazing father.”
“You don’t know how nice it is to hear you say that,” he admits. The worries that he’s being selfish have been gnawing at him for a long time. He’s always concerned he’s making the wrong choices for his daughter.
“I think it every time I see you with her. I know you said she was a surprise, but you treat her like being her dad is all you’ve ever wanted.”
Zach leans to kiss your forehead over and over again, palm gently pressed on your cheek, like he’s making up for all the times he wanted to kiss you but couldn’t. You start to giggle under all the kisses, hugging him tighter.
“Speaking of,” you say, “I’m sure you’re thinking it, too, but we should keep acting like we’re just friends when we’re around our boss.”
He breathes a chuckle, nodding as he looks down at you lovingly.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “We’ll take it slow. She’ll be so happy when we tell her.”
“You think so?” you say, your heart blooming from the certainty in his words, from the way he unabashedly intends on being with you and telling his daughter.
“She’s always asking me if I like you.” Truthfully, Ella asks if he loves you, but again, he doesn’t want to use that word until he’s sure you’re comfortable with it.
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” he says. “She actually asks if I like you yet. It’s like she knows it’s inevitable.”
You realize that the way you’re wrapped up in each other does feel like it was always inevitable. You know that your heart would never have been able to resist him. You’re glad he feels the same way about you.
────୨ৎ────
A week after the night in your apartment is the semi-final. You’re sitting in the living room playing with Ella with the game on in the background. She’s partly interested, whereas you can’t ignore the ball of nerves sitting deep in your stomach.
Zach’s been opening up more about his job when you get time alone, admitting that the pressure can give him tunnel-vision sometimes. You’ve taken on the workload as much as you can so that he’s not too stressed.
You’ve kept things the same when you’re around Ella and you’ve already determined that if she asks why you’re so invested in what’s on tv, you’ll simply say you grew an interest in soccer after the home game you both attended. But she’s too busy playing with clay to care.
The first half ends with no goals scored. You set up an afternoon snack for Ella, letting her help, your mind elsewhere as you imagine Zach in the locker room, wondering what his coach is telling him and what he’s thinking about at this moment.
Five minutes after half-time, the opponents score. Your heart sinks. Twenty minutes later, Zach scores. You have to stifle how loudly you want to cheer.
Then, the game goes to penalty shoot-outs. Zach had told you how much he hates when a game comes down to that. It’s a nail-biting few minutes, but Zach’s team wins, securing their spot in the finals. In his next game, his team could take the cup.
Right before dinner, you and Ella change into the jerseys you’d secretly bought a few days ago. Zach already told you that even if his team wants to celebrate a win together, he’d prefer to see you two, so you know he’s coming straight home.
He steps through the front door to see you in his team’s jerseys, rushing to give him a hug. Your arms are around his shoulders while Ella’s are around his hips, both of you excitedly cheering. Zach’s heart has never felt so full.
“So, I take it you watched it?” he mumbles into your hair, reveling in the familiar aroma of your shampoo. It takes everything in you not to kiss him when you pull back.
“You did amazing,” you tell him.
“Daddy, do cats ever come to your games?” Ella asks.
Zach looks at you, puzzled.
“There was a commercial with clips of animals crashing soccer games,” you explain, laughing. “It’s a valid question.”
“I haven’t seen any,” he tells her, kneeling to meet her eyeline. “But I hope we get one so I can tell you all about it.”
“Could we keep it?” she asks.
“If a cat comes onto our field and it doesn’t have an owner, sure, we can keep it,” he says. She jumps excitedly, then runs off to play. Zach stands up again, grinning at you.
“Don’t let her watch any more matches,” he says. “If a cat shows up, I’m done for.” You laugh, crossing your arms simply to keep yourself from touching him.
“Congratulations,” you say. “I know you don’t like the attention, but you deserve it.”
“Thanks.” He looks down at your jersey. “It looks great on you.”
“Yeah?” you ask, turning to show him the back. It’s his last name and number. He almost can’t believe this is really happening, that he met someone like you who cares about him this much.
“Better on you, I think,” you say.
“Impossible.”
You face him and he gazes at your lips in the way you know means he wants to kiss you. In the few private moments you’ve had since you confessed your feelings for each other, you’ve shared warm hugs and sweet kisses. You can’t wait until you don’t have to hide your love for him anymore.
“Dinner in twenty,” you tell him. “I bet you worked up an appetite.”
Zach’s legs are heavy as he trudges up the stairs, partly from fatigue, but mostly because the last thing his body wants to do is be away from you.
────୨ৎ────
Zach’s family drives in to watch the championship game at the house. You weren’t all that nervous around them before, but now that you and Zach are privately dating, you’re eager to impress them.
He had mentioned to you that he hadn’t told them about you yet, but he’s hoping to the next time he sees them. He also told you how his mom had a suspicion about you two, which makes you hope you’re not too obvious.
It’s only been a couple of weeks since you decided to date, but every moment you get alone with Zach isn’t long enough. You knew he was kind-hearted, but now that he’s not holding back, he showers you with affection and compliments, reminding you of how much he appreciates you every day.
Just like it is with Zach, it’s easy with his family. You talk and snack and take turns playing with Ella while you watch the game. The game starts off as promising, but unfortunately, the final ends with a loss for his team.
“He did tell me they were kind of the underdogs,” you say to his family sadly, watching the screen. “I still think it’s great that he got this far.”
The stadium he’s playing in is hours away and he won’t be getting home until after midnight. You spend the rest of the evening with Zach’s family, wishing you could see him and give him a comforting hug.
When Zach gets to the locker room, dejected and disappointed, he checks his phone to see a text from you. I know it’s not how you wanted the season to end, but you played an amazing game. We’re all so proud of you, no matter what.
It’s ten minutes past midnight when you hear the front door open. You’ve been sitting in the kitchen, staying awake on your phone after everyone turned in for the night. You turn on the kettle you already filled with water and find Zach in the dim hallway, meeting his eyes with sympathy.
“You’re here,” he mumbles in surprise. You only close the distance, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tightly.
“Wanted to see you,” you whisper. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve had better days,” he admits, kissing your neck. “This feels good, though.”
“I’m making you some tea if you want it,” you tell him, “but if you’d rather go to bed, I get it.”
“Tea sounds good.” He pulls back, stroking your cheek. “You’re really proud of me? Even though I’m a total loser?”
You half-chuckle, nudging him.
“Never call yourself that again,” you say.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll stop ‘accidentally’ making too much food,” you joke, earning a chuckle from him.
You settle in the kitchen, reminded of the first time you sat together like this all those months ago to plan Ella’s birthday party. Now she’s halfway to six years old, growing faster than you could have ever anticipated.
After you put the steaming mug of tea in front of him, Zach puts his hand over yours, squeezing.
“I tried to be positive but I saw it coming,” he admits to you. “They were the stronger team. We’ll just train harder and hopefully get them next year.”
“And I’ll be with you every step of the way,” you say. “Just don’t beat yourself up over this, okay? You’re not a loser.”
“Baby…” Zach breathes a chuckle. “Being with you makes me feel like I’m always winning. It sucks to get this far and to put so much work in just to lose, but knowing you and Ella are waiting for me at home… That's what my life is really about.”
You stare at him, awestruck, heart beating so hard that you can hear it in your ears.
“I love you,” he says. “I’m sorry if it’s too soon to say, but I’ve loved you for a long time.”
You bite your lip, giving into the urge to lean closer and kiss him. When you pull back, palm resting on his cheek, you smile.
“I love you, too,” you say. “It’s not too soon.”
“Phew. I was more nervous about telling you than I was about the game,” he says. You laugh, pinching his cheek.
“Stop being so cute,” you whisper.
“I can’t help it,” he quips. “I didn’t forget how you said you haven’t been on a date in forever. What do you think about tomorrow night? Ella will stay with my family and you and I can go out for dinner.”
“That sounds perfect,” you tell him. You chat a little longer before you head home.
When Zach tells his mother he’s taking you out for dinner the next morning, she’s overjoyed to hear that you’re an item now and throws in a few ‘I told you so’s. When the evening rolls around, he tells Ella he’s running some errands and instead drives to pick you up from your place.
Sitting across from you at a restaurant on a real date feels like a dream. He holds your hand on the table and nudges your knee with his every so often, unable to keep his hands off of you like usual. It’s like talking with a best friend, the conversation flowing so naturally that he refuses to believe he’s only known you for just shy of a year.
When he drives you home after dinner, you lose track of time kissing him goodnight.
────୨ৎ────
You and Zach had discussed that today would be the day. Now that you’ve been together for over eight months, he’s ready to tell Ella.
It’s a Saturday and Zach’s making lunch while you and Ella set the table. Long gone are the days of spending just a few minutes together, one of you arriving at the house while the other one gets ready to leave. The three of you are almost always a unit now, settled into a routine.
After lunch, you leave as planned so he can talk to her one-on-one. Zach finds Ella drawing on her bedroom floor after he says his goodbyes to you and knocks on her door.
“What are you drawing?” he asks.
She holds up the paper, three figures under the shining sun. When he asks if that’s you, him, and her, she happily nods.
Zach settles on the floor, watching the way she colors in the yellow sun, her legs kicking in the air. He’s seen a change in his child. There’s no doubt about it.
While she was always a happy kid, she’s grown to be much more expressive and affectionate since you stepped into their lives. You bring out the best in her. The best in him, too.
He tries to force down the tears that come up every time he looks at his daughter and thinks about what happened a year ago. She’s too small to have to know the pain of abandonment and betrayal. He pushes away the thought.
“I wanted to ask you something,” Zach says, clearing his throat.
“Do you want another bracelet?” she says.
Zach smirks, looking down at the beaded bracelet on his wrist that she made for him a few days ago. She made you a matching one that you always wear, too.
“Yeah, if you’re not too busy,” he says. “But that’s not it.”
He says it exactly as he rehearsed, telling her how happy you make him and asking if she’s okay with you being his girlfriend. When she grins up at him and asks if that means that you can move in with them, he chuckles, tears pricking his eyes.
Zach always felt like he needed to make up for the love Ella’s mother wasn’t giving her. Now, there’s nothing to make up for, nothing missing. He wishes the circumstances had been different, but he knows he’s lucky that he met you.
He was sure soon after he got to know you that his daughter would grow to love you. Deep down, he was sure that he would grow to love you, too.
────୨ৎ────
It’s past nine p.m. when Zach gets home from training. Now that he’s in the midst of playoffs again, he doesn’t get as much time at home anymore, but he takes it in stride.
When he can’t find you on the main floor, he tiptoes upstairs in case you’ve fallen asleep putting Ella to bed. Sure enough, she’s snuggled up next to you, both of you snoozing.
It’s been a month since he told her about your relationship and somehow, she’s grown to love you even more now that she knows you love her dad. Zach wonders if Ella can see how much happier he is these days. He tried to hide how empty he felt before, but maybe she caught on.
He’d rather not know. He’s rather not think about the past at all, really. Because right now, as he gazes into his daughter’s bedroom to see you hugging each other in your sleep, he knows he’s looking at his future.
(the end)
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Spinning the Block Part 1
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Officer Jessica "Jess" Sims
Warning(s): 18+, Angst, Mentions of Racial Tension.
Summary: Jess Sims attempts to pay her respects.
Word count: 3.2K
youtube
"Turned into an inconvenience
You only want me when convenient
I know that I could probably block you
But for some reason, I wanna see you
And you know I give a damn about you
You got me sittin' here thinkin' about you
And how your name triggers all my emotions
Into my eyes, into an ocean"
Normani – "Insomnia"
Jessica Sims knew in her heart she had no right to be at Michael Simmons' mother's house.
She'd driven an hour from Shelby Springs into Greenwood carrying a homemade lemon pound cake in the passenger side of her slate gray Dodge Durango. Her mother's recipe had her SUV smelling like fresh butter, sugar, and citrus.
The closer she got to the neighboring town, the tighter her fingers gripped the steering wheel, worrying if she'd see Terry Richmond again. He'd been on her mind for weeks…haunting her. She lost sleep and her nerves were so bad she had to get a prescription for sleeping pills just to function daily. Jess tried every home remedy from chamomile tea to a glass of warm milk before bed to fight insomnia.
Nothing worked.
Each night she crawled between cool sheets and stared at her bedroom ceiling, wishing things were different. Wishing she'd done things differently. Terry's smoldering sea-green eyes always came into focus, taunting her, preventing much needed rest.
When he walked into her police station to file a robbery complaint, she'd believed her department ran a tight ship. Her training had taught her to be fair but firm in following the law by the books. Chief Sandy Burnne had been her mentor, the one who recruited her straight from the police academy. She planned her law enforcement career while in college, joining the police academy a year after graduation. Her family wasn't too keen on the idea, preferring she use the hard-earned sociology degree to get a regular job and start a family like her older brothers. Jess had other plans. She wanted to be the first Black female police chief in Shelby Springs.
Wielding a badge and a gun allowed her to protect her own community. She had a certain charmed way of speaking to people that let them know not to test her, but that she'd hear them out with their problems whether they were in the wrong or right. Her excellent reputation around those parts gave her access to places that would unnerve the average person. She grew up a tomboy running around hunting with her father and brothers, physically fighting anyone who crossed her. She abhorred a bully, and that caused her problems with some of her colleagues that used their badge to sling their dicks around. Jess didn't go along to get along, but she picked her battles carefully to achieve her long-term goal: to run the department herself one day.
Men tested her all the time, and she did her job ignoring the micro and macro aggressions. Chief Burnne always had her back despite the cracker ways he tried to keep under wraps. He came from an era of uneducated Cajun rednecks filling up the department. Nowadays, there were more cops coming onto the force with education, melanin, and sometimes a vagina. A lot of old-school men didn't like that. Chief Burnne didn't either, but he accepted her and showed Jess respect when she did her job well. She impressed him, and he took her under his wing. She never revealed her goals to have his job in the future. Staying quiet, observant, and efficient worked to her advantage. Chief Burnne opened up more that way, spilling his tips on how to handle the job and people his way.
That is…until Terry Richmond showed up.
Jess misread his intentions from the start.
The second he strode into the office, she sensed a cockiness in him that smoldered beneath the surface. Most Black men in Shelby Springs were older and paunchy from a sedentary lifestyle and good Country Cookin', or lean youngsters with hustler's dreams of getting away from small town life. Terry was built strong and muscular, like a brick shithouse. He carried himself different. Spoke with controlled diction. He was a country boy for sure, but one that didn't work around Shelby Springs. She would've noticed his striking looks at the bars or cookouts broadcasting that he was living mighty fine. Employment was good with the new petrochemical plant ten miles away, and the Black community she lived in thrived with folks making good money, something that hadn't happened in over thirty years. Black folks, especially the men, being flush with cash and a pride about themselves irritated the white community. Negroes were acting a little too uppity lately. Buying new cars and scooping up property. Getting their homes built from scratch. Purchasing big fishing boats to use on Lake Tremblay. Sending their kids to college.
Tensions erupted in bars, public gatherings, and even football games at the local high school whenever white and Black people mingled in the same spaces. That's where Jess worked her magic. If she caught word of trouble brewing, she'd make a phone call to family and friends, giving a warning about police sweeps and rednecks making a commotion. The community grapevine activated and her people acted accordingly to stay far from trouble.
When it was her time to do patrols, Jess stayed visible in the white areas a lot. Her paternal great-granddaddy Adelore Seraphin was a fiery white Cajun who never married her great-grandmother, so she never gave their only child, Jess's granddaddy, his surname. The Sims family were proud Black Cajuns who turned their nose up at white trash. Adelore was considered trash because he wouldn't divorce his wife to marry Zema Sims. There was something about her Paw Paw's wife not giving him a divorce on account of them being Catholic. Granny Zema was an African Methodist and didn't give a damn about what Catholics thought about divorce. Paw Paw left that white lady and built Granny Zema a house to show that he was for real about building a life and family with her. So that's what they did. The white wife kept the marriage title, but Granny Zema kept the man.
It was a scandal, and as far as her Paw Paw was concerned, his only issue was that he didn't want that other woman to get part of his pension. She never did because she died before him, a bitter alcoholic, still screaming about the Black bitch that stole her husband. Technically, Granny Zema didn't steal him. She had him first, but back in their time, they couldn't get married because of miscegenation laws. So they broke up and Paw Paw married the white woman…and lived miserably. He started tipping out and one thing led to another. Jess's granddaddy, Hebert Sims, was born.
Jess's connection to Adelore Seraphin meant she had white Cajun relatives all up and down Shelby Springs. The kin on that side, who knew the family tree had an extra dark branch, tolerated Jess when she made patrols or answered calls of domestic disturbances in that section of town. Nothing on her screamed Seraphin except for her eyes. She had Paw Paw's discerning eyes. So did her daddy. She moved in the world like a Sims, but them pale kinfolk recognized her as the great-granddaughter of that trouble-making Seraphin behind her back. That gave Jess intimate knowledge of how outsiders perceived the proud, flourishing Black community. Trouble.
So when Terry Richmond rode his fine ass into Shelby Springs, he was already a problem before Lann clipped him with the police cruiser.
When he sat down in front of her while she typed in his descriptions of who robbed him, his tone was confident. His demeanor crafty. She was shocked that he recorded their conversation, equally shocked by Chief Burnne's sudden aggression toward him. Lann was an asshole to everyone, overcompensating for some deep-rooted male insecurity. Her first thought was that the Chief might've known something about Terry that she didn't, and she expected to be filled in on the matter. Drug couriers were a thing within small towns, and it wasn't above suspicion that drug runners would use a decoy disguise to pretend they were regular citizens going about their day. She went back and forth in her mind about Terry's reason for carrying so much cash in a backpack on a bike. It looked and sounded suspicious, especially with the drug busts they'd done a few months previously on the bridge during a police chase. She had picked up her own distant white kin at his house, the run-down place full of meth and illegal fentanyl. Opioid use was up. Drug dealers were racking up millions transporting that cash economy and product across state lines in Louisiana grew. Chief Burnne's own nephew had died of a drug overdose ten years ago, so anything that had a whiff of drug activity got his hackles up.
That was the hard line story they fed Jess for five years as she accepted civil forfeitures as a necessary part of police work. Portions of white and Black men from Shelby Springs and other bordering towns thrived in the drug trade. Sex trafficking, too. Her department prided itself on breaking the supply chain.
It had all been a lie.
Chief Burnne's lie. His department…his rules.
Jess had been inadvertently complicit.
A rule follower, and a staunch believer in the church of right and wrong, she turned a blind eye to activity that should've raised suspicions. Instead, she quietly looked out for her people on the domestic front, dousing potential flames of racist attacks, especially with all the MAGA crowd flaunting their bigotry and jealousy. Jess was more worried about racist attacks happening. Red necks were openly riding around in trucks carrying lynching ropes with right-wing slogans for bumper stickers. The south was always going to be the south, and America was always going to be America…the United Racists of America.
Jess literally couldn't be bothered if suspicious men passing through town carrying ridiculous amounts of cash got hemmed up. She damn well wouldn't coddle grown ass Black men if they got busted for doing crimes. Her daddy instilled in her a strong bullshit detector for her dealings with that.
"Sweetheart, Black men have to decide for themselves if they want to do right in the world. Black women can't keep the cape on forever, or come running with mops and brooms to clean up their messes. If Black women can get up every day and build up their community in the same terrible conditions as us, then they gotta stop babying these men who tear it down. There's no excuse for a Black man not wanting better for himself or his people. We done come too damn far to be the new terrorists against our own women and children."
Jess listened well. Applied it to Terry.
Something in her gut knew something wasn't right, but she didn't want to put herself out for some stranger who might've been tearing people's lives apart transporting thirty-six thousand dollars in cash. Black people always suffered the most with drug addiction and drug crime because of generational poverty and the predators who took advantage of that. Terry could've been lying to cover his ass for a drug cartel. She didn't know him, didn't know who his people were. He came into her life that day and turned it upside down. The only silver lining she clung to in the end was that she saved his life twice. Once when Officer McGill almost blasted him with a rifle when Terry dragged Marston behind a cruiser to safety. Jess slammed her hand on the weapon. McGill looked shell-shocked by the turn of events. She felt the same. Her boss had shot a fellow officer and made a speech to them all about how he would cover it up. If Chief Burnne harmed a white man that easily, he wouldn't blink twice before taking her out. The second time was when she carried out a PIT maneuver and knocked Burnne away from Terry, providing his last escape. The death of his cousin and the treatment he received in Shelby Springs were irredeemable. All she hoped for was peace in her own mind that she acted on the right side of judgement.
Jess followed her SUV's navigation system and pulled onto a street full of cars parked everywhere. She passed by Rosa Simmons' single family brick house with a large manicured lawn. Mourners milled about the front and the entrance door was wide open. After all the legal and medical inquiries, along with the criminal investigation, it took the Simmons' family three weeks to get Mike's body returned for burial.
She parked two blocks away and smoothed out her most subdued black sheath dress. It was plain and appropriate for the occasion. She carried the pound cake in a round Tupperware container and listened to her kitten heels click-clack on the narrow sidewalk. Her stomach churned, nearing the home.
"Hi..hello…hiya doin'?" she said, passing people she didn't know on the walkway to the house.
Heads nodded at her with sorrowful eyes and stooped body postures. The atmosphere inside the modest home was thick with heartache. Jess contemplated doing a pivot right back outside, but an older woman in her fifties with short-clipped hair sitting on a recliner noticed her.
Mike's mother, Rosa.
"My condolences, Mrs. Simmons," Jess whispered.
She didn't want to bring attention to herself and stepped forward, past a throng of people carrying plates of sliced ham, potato salad, and baked beans.
"Thank you for coming…oh you brought something, how thoughtful."
Rosa stood up.
"I can take that," Rosa said.
"Ma'am, I can put it with the other food."
"Mm-hmm, yes, the dining room table is right back there. Did you go to school with my Michael?"
"No, ma'am. I knew him from somewhere else. I'll put this away."
"Okay, baby. Fix yourself a plate while you're in there."
"Thank you."
Jess's eyes darted away and took in the other mourners. Her heart thumped a triple rhythm. It was best to put the cake on a table and leave. The stress of feeling like a traitor to her own wore on her nerves.
Delicious odors of soul food guided her nose to the dining room. The dining table could've buckled under the weight of so much food. Folks old and young helped themselves to fried chicken, crawfish, turnip greens, gooey macaroni and cheese, and a pot filled with smoked chiltlins.
She pushed a crock pot of brown gravy aside to make room for her cake next to a half-eaten sweet potato pie.
"Who let this woman in here?!"
A light brown woman with soft, shoulder-length curls glared at Jess, her lips curled into an angry snarl. Everyone looked at Jess curiously, wondering what was going on.
"Mama! Who let this dirty cop into our house?"
Rosa rushed into the dining room. Jess held out her hands.
"I just wanted to give my condolences—"
"You're the reason my brother is dead! Who let her in? Who?!" Mike's sister screamed.
The anguish in her voice brought tears to Jess's eyes.
"I'm sorry…everyone, I'm sorry…Mrs. Simmons…"
In her peripheral, Jess noticed Terry coming from a back room wearing a dark suit. She ran away as fast as her kitten heels could carry her. She knocked into people and brushed past other family members on her way out the door.
"Jess!"
Terry's deep baritone called to her, and she pumped her legs faster. Reaching the car, she fumbled for her key fob and unlocked the SUV. She jumped in and Terry banged on her window.
"I'm sorry I came. I didn't mean to upset your family," she said, starting her vehicle.
"Roll down your window."
His commanding eyes stared right through her. She rolled her window down partially. Wiping tears away from her cheeks, she faced her front window, unable to look at him.
"I know it wasn't easy for you to come here."
She shook her head, and a violent sob choked her throat.
"Listen…give me your number. I'd like to speak with you about all of this… at a better time—"
"No…this was a mistake…I'm sorry…I have to go—"
"Fucking bitch!"
Mike's sister threw Jess's cake on the car. The Tupperware container burst open and the pound cake crumbled all over the hood.
"Livia! Stop!"
Terry walked toward his cousin, and she ran from him toward the sidewalk. Other family members had followed them to watch the scene. Jess's stomach sank to the floor of her car.
"You did this to Mike! You goddamn greedy cops sent my brother to die and I fucking hate you! Get outta here, you murdering bitch!"
Livia picked up a heavy rock and threw it at the passenger side window, fracturing the tempered glass. Terry lifted his cousin up by the waist and carried her away. Jess drove off quickly. Cake crumbs fell away from her hood and she screeched her tires with a hasty exit.
She didn't hold back on crying, allowing her tears to wash away the shame and embarrassment.
Back in Shelby Springs, she paced the floors inside her house, drinking whiskey, and pondering her fate. Mike's burial was only the start of her troubles. Next came a lawsuit Terry filed against her department. It would probably finally bankrupt them like the last legal settlement they paid almost did. With the dashcam evidence, plus her, Summer, and Marston's testimony, Terry was sure to win a large payout. Her career was in jeopardy, and their department possibly disbanded.
She downed a half glass of Uncle Nearest whiskey and looked at her black dress. The audacity of her showing up in Greenwood thinking she could dip in and out without consequences.
Jess had to face her part in Terry's life being traumatized forever. Losing her job was a small price to pay for his lifetime of pain.
She leaned her head against her living room window in the dark and watched a swarm of fireflies do a light dance outside. Her grandfather used to say seeing fireflies brought good luck. Jess desperately needed that to be true.
Crawling into bed with her dress still on, Jess stared at her ceiling again, semi-drunk and all cried out. She thought about Terry calling out her name and running after her. He didn't sound mean or angry when he spoke to her briefly. Asking for her number surprised Jess, because…why? What could they talk about that would fix the wide valley between them? Maybe he wanted to yell at her too, get his justified anger off his chest. She deserved it.
Jess curled into the fetal position and thought of Terry. Even in mourning, he looked handsome in his suit. For the first time in weeks, she fell into a deep sleep without having to use medication.
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Inescapable Part 5 (Steddie X Y/N)
A/N: Ok I have one more part left...I think lol I'm 90% positive I have one more part left but sometimes I type and more of a story flows lol
Enjoy!
Warnings: Convicts Dom Older Steddie (Sir Eddie/ Daddy Steve) & Fem Sub Younger Y/N, SMUT, dirty talk (all the dirty talk), trying to be quiet, praise, etc. FLUFF, they love her and she loves them, Steddie being good dads to Olivia <3
ANGST (😈)
Coming off the last chapter they are on the run, a guard is hurt (brief mentions of blood), the guys finally tell her what happened in 86 (slight season 4 spoilers), mentions of PTSD (especially with Eddie), Reader and Steve get into a small fight (very brief), brief mentions of Y/N and Olivia being considered hostages while they're all on the run, Cliffhanger ending! Involving an idiot from their past and they are prepared to let their dark (slightly toxic) side take over to resolve the problem.
Word Count: 6843
Inescapable Series/ Donate to Me :)
Steve’s eyes continually flick to the rear-view mirror as you stare out the window of the third car they had stolen on this trip alone. It had been about 24hrs and you still looked incredibly worn out. Eddie made sure you took all your pills that were listed in your chart and sat in the backseat with you to keep an eye on Olivia when you finally fell asleep.
“Shhh… Everything’s ok, sweetheart. You just had to get here early, didn’t you? Were you worried about your momma to? Yeah?”, he grinned when his daughter cooed.
“Alright, I’m going to pull over here. That way we can all rest and get something to eat.”, the other man conveyed as he pulled into a hotel parking lot.
After grabbing a key and hiding the car in the back, Steve carried you inside and placed you on the bed beside where Eddie had placed the baby.
“Go ahead and relax. I’ll run and grab some food. I saw a diner next door and we still have some formula from the convenience store we stopped at.”
Nodding at his friend, the metalhead pushes down his baseball cap over his long hair he had pulled up into a messy bun and hurries out the door. As it closes, the loud thunk stirs Olivia as she begins to whine.
“Oh no, honey, it’s ok.”, Steve tries to sooth as he picks her up and bounces her carefully in his arms. “It’s ok. Daddy didn’t mean to scare you. You have to be quiet or else you’re going to wake up mommy.”
After grabbing the pacifier and climbing into the bed beside you, he can’t help but smile as you curl tighter into him. This is all Steve ever wanted, a little family of his own. When they started interacting with you, his mind was always a buzz with fantasies of waking up beside you every morning or going down the stairs of a big house to find his kids cackling as they ate their breakfast. Coming home after a long day at the office to find you and Eddie working together to help the children with their homework and make dinner.
Images like that fueled him as he used it for motivation to get through each day until they were set free…until your dad ripped that away…
Steve’s nose scrunched in anger as it ran through his body before his daughter sighing brought him back to the moment.
***
“Goddamn it.”, Eddie grumbled as he tripped over his feet reentering the hotel room. Spotting you three passed out on the bed had his heart fluttering as he placed the food down on the table.
You looked so tiny against Steve’s large frame as his palm rested on your temple while Olivia was asleep on his broad chest with her father’s protective hand keeping her steady.
This is all Eddie ever wanted, a family. Something he never got to have growing up. Wayne was the only person in the Munson line that seemed to give a shit about him and he promised himself when he got married and had kids they would never feel unwanted.
When they met you, he envisioned a picture-perfect life with you and Steve by his side with a bunch of little rugrats running around. He would take you somewhere outside of Hawkins where you three could start fresh and feel safe.
Maybe that was still something he could have if you three made it where you were going.
The sound of you stirring and wincing grabbed his attention as he checked the clock before digging into a bag to grab your pills.
“Hey, sweetheart. Come on. Time to take this next set of meds and I got some food for you to.”, Eddie whispers as he takes your forearm and helps you to the table. “How are you feeling?”
“Hm…better, thank you.”
“Tell me about the birth. What happened?”, he asks as he begins sorting everything.
“The doctor thinks it was stress that induced me. It hurt so bad, Eddie. Derek rushed me to the hospital and I was there forever. After she was born, I guess I lost a bit too much blood and passed out. Told you, she was a vampire.”, you smile as the man across from you tries to do the same but can’t hide his worry.
At the sound of the bags jostling, Steve’s eyes open and the metalhead hastily scurries over to move Olivia so he can get up to eat as well.
“Thanks, man.”
“She has my last name. I wanted to give her yours but—”
“We know, baby. Your, um, your dad told us.”
“Is he the one that gave you those bruises?”, you ask as you reach out to touch the other man’s face.
“Let’s not talk about that right now, ok? I called Dustin and he said he’s going to send us some things at a P.O. Box a couple towns over so—”
“I want to talk about it now.” Your tone is firm, much stronger than it had been these past couple of days. “What happened? What made you escape now instead of before? You said my father saw me leaving…”
Annoyance darkens their eyes but you remain unshaken as you glare back.
“You were covered in blood. Did you kill someone?”
“And if we had?”, Steve snaps. “What would that change? Would you take Olivia and run back to your asshole dad? Turn us in and put us back where we belong?”
“No, you fucking dick. I just sacrificed everything to be here with you two so don’t you dare talk to me like that.”, you growl before sighing heavily from exhaustion as you lean back in your seat.
Blinking, the pretty boy calms down, reaching for your soda, and holding the straw to your lips that you eagerly sip.
“I’m sorry, honey. It’s been a rough few hours.”, Steve exhales as he tilts back in his chair as well. “Your dad showed up with some of the guards who are his friends I guess and beat the shit out of me and him.”
“He was going to separate us.”, Eddie added with a crack in his voice as he stared at the table in front of him. “He was going to send me to Indianapolis where my father is and Steve to Washington. Y/N, part of the reason we’ve made it this long is each other. We protect each other.”
“That first week we went in some guy jumped me because of my last name. Munson beat his ass and anyone else who even had the idea. Later on, inmates tried to hurt him to get to me because I’m soft…or so they thought… One night some fucker stabbed him so I did the same. No body messed with us after that.”
“If he separated us, Steve would have been hurt or worse and my dad with his own asshole goons…”, the metalhead shakes the thought from his brain as his eyes meet yours. “You’d have been trapped in Hawkins alone…”
“Did—Did you have to kill someone to escape?”
There’s a long pause in the conversation before Eddie finally shook his head.
“What the fuck are we going to do, Ed?!”
“I don’t know, Steve.”, the man replies with a flat expression as his friend manically paces in their cell.
“We’ll both be killed and what about Y/N? She and Olivia will be all alone with fucking Derek and her asshole father!”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?! Just yeah?! In Washington, I can’t protect them or you! Eddie, if you go to Indianapolis, your dad is going to fucking teach you a lesson! I guess it doesn’t fucking matter though because as soon as they throw me in a cell up there someone is going to hurt me. The only reason I’ve lasted this long is you!” Steve feels his body fold into itself as he begins to really panic. “I can’t leave you or Y/N. I love you both. How am… I’ll be all alone… I should have just let the bats fucking rip me apart—”
As the boy spoke, the metalhead felt himself get steadily ramped up till he couldn’t take it anymore and rushed forward capturing Steve’s face in his palms as his lips crashed to his own.
“I’m not going to let that happen. I didn’t let you die then and I won’t let anyone hurt you now. Do you hear me?!”, he roughly growls as he tries to control the tears that want to break free. “You won’t be alone, sweetheart, I promise. I don’t care what I have to do.”
Eddie kisses him a bit softer as the other man nods and clings to his wrist.
The lock to their cell slowly opens and both men prepare to fight before coming face to face with a guard they trust.
“Come on. We have to move fast.”, Bobby whispers as he ushers them out with his hand and they hastily follow. After leading them to the area he allowed them to leave through last time, he paused and handed the long-haired boy a small knife. “Ok, you remember how to get out right? Now since you aren’t coming back I need it to look like you overpowered me.”
“Wait, can’t we just hit you or something?”
“No, that’d be too suspicious. If this is really what you want to do, you need to decide now.”
Both boys glance at each other before Eddie steps towards him and places his palm on the guard’s shoulder.
“Thank you, man. For everything you’ve done for us and Y/N.”
“I always knew you were innocent and Y/N has always been kind to me.”, Bobby smiles softly before nodding his head. “Try and hit this side here. I’ll radio it in, in two minutes so you better fucking run. Good luck, guys.”
“It was so fast, Y/N. As soon as we hit the woods, the alarms started going off. I didn’t think we’d get to you.”, Eddie sighed as he finished his story, their eyes flicking your way as you started to cry. “No, hey, no. Don’t cry, sweetheart.”, he pleaded as he got out of his chair to fall on his knees in front of you and take your hands.
“This is all my fault. Maybe if I had listened to you and left with my mom or—”
“Maybe all of this would have happened anyway.”, Steve cut you off as he pet your head. “Your dad isn’t exactly a trust worthy man.”
“I love you so much and everything is going to be alright.”
“Yeah, princess, it will.”, the long-haired boy beamed as he kissed your lips.
##################
Three Years Later
“Olivia!”, you giggle as your daughter continues to dance around while you try to pull on her jacket. “Do you want to play outside or not?”
“Yeah.”
“Ok, then you have to let me put this on you or else you’re going to freeze to death.”
“No, mommy! I no freeze to die!”, she laughs, her cackle reminding you of Eddie as she shows off all of her teeth and gums.
It had been three years since you made it over the border into Canada with your convict boyfriends in the trunk and Dustin’s falsified papers at your side. You managed to make it to a tiny little town and create a new life for yourself that you absolutely loved.
With their friends help, you were able to convince a small law firm that you had graduated from college with high marks. Granted it wasn’t criminal law like you had been studying but you were still able to help people and that made you happy.
Eddie absolutely despised cutting his hair but to keep a low profile he did what needed to be done. Like Olivia, he tended to keep it longer than normal but as soon as it started to go too low past his ears, he went to the shop to get it cut. Because they didn’t want to be too far from each other having been in a small cell together for over 10 years, both men got a job at a car dealership with him in the automotive shop and Steve as a salesman.
Out in public, people called you three by different names but in your home you were still Y/N, Eddie, and Steve. The little dwelling the pretty boy was able to find was modest but perfect for your family with two bedrooms and a large backyard for your daughter to run around in.
Thankfully for her, she never sensed anything was amiss when it came to her life and you hoped to keep it that way for as long as you could.
After lifting her into your arms, you carried her outside where you watched her run off to climb her jungle gym.
“Be careful!”
“Or what?!”, she teased.
“Or else I’m going to tell your daddy and he’s going to tell Santa you were bad!”
“Nu uh!!”
“Yeah huh!”
“What in God’s name are you two shouting about?”, Steve grinned as he opened the back door to join you guys outside.
“Our daughter is being mean.”
Eddie kisses your lips before running towards Olivia who opened her arms wide to give him a big hug.
“Ew, daddy! Smell bad.”
“Oh yeah? I know, we had a car in today that I’m surprised didn’t explode. How was your day, sweetheart?”
“Good. Mommy take me t-to work.”
“Did you two have fun?”, the other man asks as he leans down to give her a big hug as well.
“Yeah! Mister…Mr. Jackson gave me cookie!”
Grinning, the three of you sit on your back patio as you watch Olivia play. This was everything they ever wanted and they were so grateful to be able to experience this with you.
***
“Mmph—fuck, Steve. Feels so good”
“Shhhhh, baby.”, the pretty boy scolds making you smile as you pass by the open bathroom door in your shared bedroom before throwing yourself down in front of your desk and turning on your bulky computer.
As the years passed, both men seemed to open up more when it came to their love for each other and you absolutely encouraged it. You wanted them to feel safe and loved not just with you but themselves. Now that there was no longer the looming threat of prisoners and being hurt, they confided in you that it no longer felt like survival but genuine affection that they could now feel openly without fear of it being exploited.
Sliding on your headphones to give them extra layer of privacy, you did what you do every night and began double checking information online.
That first year, message boards and police sites were full of information trying to hunt down the two escapees and their “hostages”. You assumed your father thought that would not only protect you from any prosecution (or embarrassment for him) but make people hunt for them harder if they believed they had kidnapped a baby.
As time progressed news began to dwindle and for that you were thankful. There was the occasional “sighting” but when you read the article you breathed a sigh of relief realizing it wasn’t even close to where you were.
The feeling of fingers in your hair brought you back to the moment as you leaned your head back just in time for Eddie’s lips to softly land on yours.
“Anything new out in the world?”
“Mmm…no.”, you grinned as you placed your headphones and CD player to the side.
“Fuck me, it’s cold.”, Steve whined as he scurried out of the bathroom and hastily threw on his sweats with a long sleeve shirt. “How are you two not cold?”
“You would think he’s never grown up around snow.”, the other boy teased as he leaned his head on your shoulder. “One of these days one of you will have to show me how to use this thing.”, he gestures towards the computer. “Especially since Dustin and Mike showed Wayne how to sign up for email.”
“Is that safe?”, Steve asks cautiously as he places his hands on his hips behind you both. “I mean can they like…track who he emails to…”
“He may have a point. It’s ok. We’ve all had to make sacrifices to be up here.”, Eddie sighs as he tries to smile your way.
“Baby, I don’t see why it would be a problem. All of our information is under our aliases so if they did look it won’t seem odd.”, you comfort as you place your hand on his thigh.
“Naw, sweetheart, he’s right. I can just keep sending him letters without the return address like we’ve been doing. I’m, um, I’m going to go grab a beer and check on Olivia.”
After kissing your forehead, he sullenly heads for the kitchen and you rise to your feet to smack Steve’s chest.
“Ow! What?”
“Steve, he deserves to talk to the only other family he has. He can send him emails under the Ronnie name. It’s not like the police are going to descend from the ceiling as soon as he hits send.”
“Y/N, you don’t think the cops will wonder why Eddie Munson’s uncle is sending emails constantly to only one person who’s supposedly NOT his nephew?”
“You’re over thinking it.”
“Am I? Or are you not thinking enough? Honey, we can’t afford to jeopardize—”
“Don’t. Don’t you dare give me that lecture again, Steven Harrington. I worry about our safety to ok?”
The man exhales heavily as he turns and throws himself into bed, folding his arms like a toddler as you stomp away in the opposite direction to check on the metalhead.
“And then Smaug flew over the people of Laketown spewing his fire breath…Roar!”, Eddie growled as he opened his arms and pretended to fly around the room breathing fire as you watched from your hidden spot by your daughter’s doorway.
Olivia giggled as she clapped her hands and he fell to his knees beside her bed pretending to land.
“The dragon felt like he would be triumphant but he did not expect…the bowman…” When he widened his eyes, she did the same as she hung on every word. “Bard stood his ground amongst the flames with the one weapon he knew would take out his foe.”
You and your daughter waited for him to continue but when he didn’t you peeked around the corner to see him standing completely still.
“Daddy? Are you ok?”, Olivia asks in a small voice before her eyes meet yours.
“Baby?”, you ask as you slowly enter the room and place your palm on his back. His eyes were glazed over as his bottom lip began to tremble. “Hey, Eddie, look at me.”, you whisper as you cup his cheek to turn his face.
You had seen this happen before with both of them but the triggers never made sense. You originally thought it was the trauma of being in prison but a little while after moving into your home, you went for a walk to explore the town. Everyone was exceptionally friendly including a little old Russian man who told you more about the sea food store he owned near the water.
Steve zoned out as the man spoke and when you tried to take his hand in yours, he flinched and tried to cover his face with his arms. You showed your daughter a lot of movies from your childhood and one day during a family movie night a bat just so happened to appear in the background of the scene causing both men to stiffen.
You never wanted to push but you always felt so helpless.
Olivia stood up on her mattress and wrapped her tiny arms around her father’s neck. The action seemed to bring him back as he gradually lifted his own limbs to hug her to his chest.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Daddy got lost in his own adventure.”, he tried to comfort as his voice cracked. Taking a seat on her bed, he placed her under the covers and smiled as he tucked her in.
“On your ad-ventures, did you fight a dragon?”
“Something like that, princess. Your dad went into the castle and burned the dragon while he was sleeping while I used my sword outside to protect them…just like Bard.”
“Whoa…where was mommy?”
Eddie chuckles as his eyes flick to you before focusing on his daughter again.
“Mommy was resting safely in her own castle which is good because daddy wouldn’t have wanted her to get hurt.”
You could tell he was still trying to keep it together when he bent down to kiss her good night and took your hand to lead you back to the bedroom.
“What happened there, Ed?”, you ask as he exhales and falls back first onto the mattress. “Where did you go when you were telling her that story?”
“It’s hard to explain, baby.”
Blinking, you make a decision as you grab your desk chair and wheel till your directly in front of them.
“What happened in 86?” That grabbed their full attention as they sat up to face you. “I know you didn’t kill those people and I’ve never pushed because I don’t want to hurt you but it’s been four years and everything we’ve been through I deserve to know.”
They exchanged a glance you saw many times between them; two people who knew a truth you didn’t.
“Just 86? Or should we go back to the beginning in 83?”, Steve asks in a flat tone you weren’t prepared for. “That’s when Barb went missing… one of the crimes I was accused of.”
“I… I don’t know. Just tell me what you feel comfortable telling me.”
“I don’t feel comfortable telling you any of it.”
“What. Why?”
“Because you won’t believe us.”, Eddie cut in. “And when we tell you the truth…you’re going to call us crazy, realize you were wrong, take Olivia, and go back home.”
His words pierced your heart and cracked it open as the tears stung your eyes.
“Jesus… three years and you still think so fucking little of me.”
As you got to your feet to leave the room, Steve hastily blocked your exit with his body.
“Y/N, the last time part of the truth came out, it was retracted and used against me to put me in prison. I’m…WE’RE scared.”
“Steve, I don’t know what happened but whatever did is very real for you two. I see it in your eyes when you both zone out or flinch at something. There are so many things I’ve witnessed and heard in your case that don’t make sense but maybe the truth well make those puzzle pieces fit.”
Gesturing with his palm towards the bed, you took his place against the headboard while he sat in your chair and Eddie adjusted his body to face you.
“It all started when Will Byers went missing…”
***
They continued to stare at you as sat their absorbing their words after telling you their entire story. Your logic brain had taken over as your eyes fleeted from left to right sifting through information in your head that you had researched before you met them.
“Say something, sweetheart, please.”
“How…how didn’t the fire and the mayor being arrested not give validity to your case?”
Steve exhaled a breathily laugh as he leaned forward balancing his elbows on his knees.
“After everything we just told you, I like how that’s your first question.”
“And they didn’t look into…hospital records…after you were…beaten…”
“I didn’t go to the hospital—”
“Ok but EMS took care of you!”, you shouted as you struggled to catch your breath.
“Whoa, Y/N. Ok, what’s going on, baby?”, Eddie tried to soothe as he reached for your trembling hands.
“And…and you…you almost died…someone hurt you and they didn’t…didn’t…”
“Y/N, sweetheart. I need you to breathe ok?”
You began to sob as you tried to do what he asked but you were beginning to feel super overwhelmed. Not just at the fact that monsters exist but at the notion that for years unbeknownst to you there was a group of people keeping you safe and in return they were either killed or punished including the two men you loved the most.
“Look at me, little girl.”, Steve commanded in a tone you knew well. “We need you to breathe. No, no. Look at Daddy, baby.”, he says sternly as he cups your cheeks. “There you go, honey. Inhale, exhale.”
“Neither of you deserve what you went through.”
“You believe us? Just like that?”
“Eddie, you both talk in your sleep. I hear you wake up from nightmares that you don’t tell me about. I see it in your face when something happens or when you look at Olivia. I may not have been there or saw what you saw at the time but…I see it now.”
“I’m glad you weren’t there. It’s…it’s an awful place, Y/N.”
“I wish I could have been there during your trial or when you were at the hospital. I would have taken care of you. I would have—”
“Shhhh… hey. Put the logic brain away, nerd.”, Steve teases as he pets your head. “You’re here now and it’s our job to take care of you.”
Nodding your head, your eyes glance down at the light scaring around his neck that you had seen so many times. Noticing your gaze, he takes off his long sleeve shirt and slides closer allowing you a better look.
“The bites hurt more than anything…like little knives piercing your sides…”
Glancing towards Eddie, he scoots closer as well and takes your hand in his placing it on the scar near his heart.
“This one… The doctors kept saying how they were surprised I was still alive.”
Tears started to trickle down your cheeks again and the metalhead quickly cupped them in his hands as his forehead met yours.
“It’s ok, baby. We’re ok. Everything…is ok.”
“I hate the idea of you both being in so much pain.”, you whisper.
“We aren’t anymore, Y/N. Not that kind of pain anyway. We all know how sometimes Steve and I can be a bit rough.”
When you laugh the tension in the room breaks.
“Yeah but you know I like it when you’re rough.”
Eddie quirks up his eyebrow in a teasing manner before capturing your lips with his own. As the passion between you begins to grow, Steve climbs in on the other side of you, bringing your mouth to his as the metalhead’s trail down your neck.
Their strong palms knead your breasts as Eddie’s fingers continued their descent down your smooth frame.
“Oh…”, you whine eliciting a small smirk from his lips as his middle and ring fingers rub slow circles against your clit.
Your eyes close as your head falls back against the pillows, only opening again when you hear the subtle smacks of their lips interlocking.
“She’s so fucking wet.”
“Mmm—fuck her with your fingers, honey, and make her cum. She deserves to.”
“Fuck…YES—”
As Eddie did what Steve suggested, you struggled to control the volume of your moans as his digits hit every sensitive button inside you that only they knew how to reach causing the pretty boy to slam his hand over your mouth.
“You have to be quiet, baby. Do you need the gag?”
You shake your head and he tosses a smile your way before bouncing between your legs and tossing your panties by your head. Oh, they loved this game. Pushing you to the edge while you try not to scream from pleasure.
While Eddie’s fingers curled inside of you, Steve’s lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves. Your legs tried to close around his head but his strong hands kept them still and open.
“Fuck…please. That feels so good.”
“Yeah, baby? You feel good?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. So beautiful. God, your pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart, I can’t wait to feel you cling to my fucking cock—shit.” Eddie stifled his grunt in your neck as your palm reached down to stroke him through his sweats. “Reminds me…when you came to visit us…and I fucked your hand through my pants like this. Fuck, baby, all I wanted to do was bend you over that table and fuck you till you were screaming my name.”
At his words, your cunt clenched around his fingers as Steve’s tongue flicked and applied the perfect amount of pressure to your clit as the coil snapped. You moaned a bit too loudly and Eddie shoved your panties into your mouth to silence you.
“Haven’t gotten better at being quiet though.”, he growled but when your glassy needy eyes met his he felt his resolve begin to break. “Fuck, how can I be mad when you look at me like that. You ready for my cock, sweetheart?”
After your nod, Steve moves out of the man’s way as he quickly slides down his pants just enough for his dick to spring free before finding home between your legs. You jump as he taps your nub with his length, grinning at your sensitivity as he guides himself inside your entrance.
“Goddamn.”
The metalhead sets a steady pace as his hands find purchase on your hips.
“We talked about this a lot on the inside. What it would be like to fuck you…”, Steve coos as he sits on his knees beside the bed petting your head with one hand while he licked the other before placing it around his cock. “Eddie always thought your pussy would taste sweet like you and your letters smelled. Mmph. Sometimes your perfume would still be on our hands from the envelopes and we would jerk each o-other off imagining it was you.”
The more Steve spoke the faster Eddie’s rhythm got as he repeatedly hit that spongy spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling. Falling on top of you, he removed your panties from your mouth but kept them bunched in his hand as he grunted into your ear on the opposite side of his friend while he continued to talk.
“At night when the lights were out—mmm—I would imagine you in my arms. Sometimes we would climb into the others bunk and grind our cocks against the others ass until…”
“Sir—fuck—M’gonna cum.”
The metalhead was prepared, clamping his hand around your mouth as he pounded into you.
Your whimpers turned to muffled screams as you were blinded by white and your arms wrapped around his neck. As your pussy quivered around him, Eddie mewled your name into your ear till you felt him paint your insides with his release.
As soon as the other man pulls out, Steve lifts you under your arms and moves you around until you’re on top of him straddling his waist. His large palms cling to your hips as you lower yourself onto his length, your movements stuttering slightly at the sensitivity of your last orgasm.
“You got this, pretty girl. Take all the time you need. You just have to be quiet.”
“T-Tell me stories, Daddy, please. I wanna hear ‘em.”
Eddie breathily chuckled as he rolled over till he was on his back beside Steve.
“Steve had never done anything dominate with anyone before so I would let him practice with me. Sometimes, sweetheart, when he would fuck me I would tell him to pretend I was you. Boy, did he have a filthy fucking mouth.”
“Y-You liked it.”, he giggled as his head tilted to kiss the man’s lips. “I would say how you belonged to us. How I wanted you on your knees choking on my dick. Fuck.”
“He would fuck me so hard, Y/N, I would feel him for weeks. Like a silent reminder that we belonged to each other.”
Gripping the back of your neck, Steve yanked you down till your cheek was between his and Eddie’s.
“And that you belonged to us.”, he whispered as his hips thrust up roughly punctuating his words. “A quiet promise—fuck—of what we would give you when we got out.”
“Please…”
A wicked grin spread across his face as the metalhead pushed your panties back into your mouth before Steve covered it with his other hand.
The obscene sound of skin hitting skin filled the room as he slammed his cock deep within you causing your eyes to roll as your head hung as much as it could.
“That’s right, baby girl. You take Daddy’s cock. Good girl. I can feel it, honey. Cum. Cum on Daddy’s cock, Y/N.” You do as he commands, your throat vibrating as you tried to be heard through the gag and Steve’s palm. “Atta girl. Let it go. Ride it out for as l-long as you can. Shit—I’m gonna cum.”
The man’s arms wrapped around your waist as his rhythm faltered and he thrust his spend into your now overstimulated cunt. Fingers reached between your sweaty frames and removed the gag from your mouth.
“Such a good girl. You ok, sweetheart?”
“She…She said yeah. Fuck that was good.”, Steve answered for you after you whispered the answer exhaustedly in his ear.
“As always.”, Eddie beams as he starts to take you in his arms, chuckling when you groan. “I know, I’m the worst person. Come on, babe, you need a bath. Steve, you wanna get her some water and check on Olivia?”
While the pretty boy does what he asked, the metalhead quickly gets a bath ready and places you inside the water, smiling softly when you sigh in pleasure.
“We, uh, we didn’t just talk about you sexually on the inside. I feel like I should tell you that.”
Your eyes blink as he sits beside you, now in a pair of his blue boxers.
“What else do you two talk about?”, you ask as you lean forward and run your fingers along the arm he had resting along the porcelain.
“We wondered how we would have met you if we hadn’t of been locked up. You worked at The Hideout and I used to play there. Maybe you would have seen me up there playing my guitar or you would have served me a drink.”
“You were a law student and knowing my dad I probably would have been working with him.”, Steve added as he entered the bathroom and sat on the edge as he handed you the glass of water that you chugged down. “Olivia’s still asleep… I probably would have run into you at the Hawkins Library doing some research for a case or something.”
“We’d definitely be self-conscious at first but act like we were a confident badass.”
“Why would you be self-conscious?”, you giggle.
“Because you’re beautiful, smart, and young with your whole life ahead of you.”, Eddie answered as he reached up to caress your cheek and you kissed his palm. “We’d just be some old assholes—”
“Eddie.”, you scold making him softly smile.
Steve bent down to carefully lift you out of the water, placing you on your feet to dry you off.
“More than anything, Y/N, we talked about this life here. Living with you in our own little house while our kids wreak havoc.”, he chuckles as he focuses on his task.
“W-Would you want to have more kids with me?”
When they glance at each other before looking up at you, you know they’ve already had this conversation amongst themselves.
“Of course.”, Eddie murmurs as he carries you into the bedroom and picks up the other man’s shirt off the floor to tug over your head. “Of course, sweetheart. Olivia is so fucking amazing and you’re a wonderful mom. We’d love to have a couple more little Munson/Harrington kids running around…”
“But…”
Pushing you back, they climb under the covers with you as the metalhead pulls your back to his chest while Steve moves some stray hair away from your face.
“What if we have to run again? What if we get caught and you’re left to raise these kids alone? What if—hey…”, Steve tuts in a firm tone as you sigh in annoyance. “Stop. Y/N, we literally fought to have the life we have now and we’d do anything to keep it.”
“We’re just worried, baby.”, Eddie adds. “There’s a lot of risk bringing another little life into our world.”
“I love you both…so much…I won’t push but…whenever you’re ready I’m ready.”
Both men smile at you as your eyes steadily close and you fall asleep.
###################
“Hey Miss Franklin!”, the daycare administrator greets you as you walk in beaming through the front door.
“Hey Tasha. How was my little monster today?”
“She was good. Told the other kids her father fought dragons.”, the lady giggles as you playfully roll your eyes. “Let me go grab her.”
As your eyes scan over the children playing, you notice the administrator’s demeanor stiffen while talking to one of the other ladies before nervously smiling your way.
“Miss Franklin, Lily says Olivia’s uncle came to pick her up about an hour ago.”
Your heart drops as your eyes widen.
“Uncle?”
“Yeah…tall fellow about your age.” As she continued to describe him, the bile in your throat began to rise as anger clouded your brain.
“Did he give you a name?”
“Uh, yeah it’s right here.”, she replies cautiously as she shows you the sign out sheet.
Derek
Speeding down the road and running every red light, you practically swerve into the dealership, sprinting inside to find the guys. Steve notices you first, his protective mode kicking in as he grabs your wrist and tells the front desk to send the other man to his office.
“Y/N, honey, I can’t understand you when you talk fast like that. What’s going on with Olivia?”
Eddie hastily enters, the door slamming behind him as he steps forward to cup your cheeks.
“What’s going on?”
“The daycare said Olivia’s uncle came to pick her up.”
“Who?”, he growls.
“Derek’s name was on the sheet.”, you grumbled matching his anger.
Steve’s office phone rings and he recognizes the number immediately, answering it and placing it on speaker.
“Hello?”
“Hi, dada!”, Olivia shouts excitedly causing you to let out a sigh of relief that at least she sounded ok and wasn’t hurt.
“Hey, honey. What are you doing home without mommy?”, he asks trying to sound calm.
“Uncle Derek picked me up! When are you comin’ home? He wants to talk to mommy.”
“Baby, is he nearby? Can I talk to him?”, you inquire, listening to her little voice speak to someone in the background before a gruff tone pulled through.
“Hey, babe. Long time no see.”
“If you hurt her, Derek, I swear to fucking God…”
“You must think so little of me. I don’t want to do anything to her. That’s why I tried to give her a better life with a better father.”
“Fuck you, you fucking dick—“, Eddie cut in before Steve grabbed his wrist.
“Ah good. Edward is there to or should I say Ronnie and Ben.”, he snickered. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?! Your dad reneged on our deal since you disappeared and my family lost everything. EVERYTHING, Y/N!”
At his outburst, you hear your daughter whine and both men’s eyes grow dark with fury.
“What do you want?”
“I’m at your house. Come here so we can talk. If you aren’t here in an hour I’ll take her back home with me to your father.”
“This was a mistake.”, you growled.
“Maybe, Y/N. Maybe but for once in your fucking life you’re going to hear what I have to say. Olivia! Say goodbye to your parents.”
“Are they coming home?”, she asks cautiously.
“Yes, sweetheart. We’ll be there soon.”, Eddie answers her and his eyes close as he listens to her laugh. “I love you, Olivia.”
“Love you to, daddy. Love you, dada and mommy!”
The phone hangs up before you or Steve can reply.
“We have an hour…”, the metalhead says more to himself then you two. “I have guns stashed away a couple of miles from the house—”
“You are not pulling a gun with my daughter in that house.”, you hiss.
“What do we do, Y/N? He’s not going to let us go and even if he was…he kidnapped our daughter. He’ll be lucky if he leaves the house still fucking breathing.”, Steve retorts in a dark tone you had never heard from him before.
“I’m not saying I disagree but I refuse to let any of this affect her. As far as she knows she’s a normal child and I want to keep it that way.”
“Then answer his question, Y/N. What the fuck do you want us to do!?”
##################
@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @micheledawn1975 @paleidiot @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @noooah @baileebear @dashingdeb16 @nailbatanddungeon @rockmusiciscalming12 @mikeyswifie @poofyloofy @eddiexmunsonlover @dreamliners @munsonmoonshine86 @bexreadstoomuch @kitkat80 @myherometalhead @hardladyheart @sheisjoeschateau @chelebelletx @yesimabratandwhataboutot @cherryxhaze @utterlyinsanity
#steddie#steddie angst#steddie smut#steddie fluff#steddie fic#steddie fanfic#stranger things#joe keery#joseph quinn#eddie munson#steve harrington#fan fiction#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#steve harrington smut#Steve harrington angst#steve harrington fluff#steddie x you#steddie x y/n#steddie x reader#eddie fanfic#daddy steve harrington#sir Eddie munson#dom steddie#sub reader
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Idk if you do requests, but if you do,
You should write a Slash x Reader smut
Where reader is virgin, and Slash has a corruption kink
Im just gonna leave it at that. 🙏🏼
A/n: trying to get through all my slash requests bc APPARENTLY that’s all I’m good for 🙄 /j I love Slash ☺️
Warnings: smut, fingering (f receiving), corruption kink (I hope, I tried 🥹), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!
No one thought he could do it, no one had ever imagined that Slash could date someone long enough to get married without sex, yet here he was.
You met between breaks in tour, it was late and he was high and starving. You were working at a pizza place down the road and helped him get back home after he lost his shoe and keys, although he was most heart broken over the loss of his pizza but that didn’t happen until after he ate it.
He was stupid and his state of mind was evidently altered, however, it only meant it was harder for him to hide how pretty he thought you were.
He came back to your place of work later that week, sober this time, and you actually got to talking which led to dating and moving in.
It happened quickly, only a few months between dating and engagement, which no one was surprised by given Slash and his lifestyle. Your family and friends were a bit shocked that you of all people ended up with him, but after seeing the way the guitarist no one could deny it.
Sure, no one questioned it when Slash announced his engagement soon after announcing his new relationship, but there was a reason.
“What the fuck does that mean?” He asked. You were in his bed, curled up against him while he played with your hair. His other hand had been slowly making its way lower and lower and you thought it was the time to tell him the truth.
“It means I’m waiting until marriage.” You explained. He paused for a moment, and he did try to convince you otherwise a few times, although he always stopped if he felt it was pushing you too far or if he thought you might say yes; you made up your mind years ago and he didn’t need that on his conscience, he loved you too much.
On top of that, he loved the idea of being your first, of being the one to take away your innocence. He wanted to marry you and have you forever, you were his and he was yours.
Which led to now, Slash planting kisses up your neck as you sat back against him. “Just relax, sweetheart, and let me know what feels good, alright?” His soft voice flowed into your ears.
You nodded and he got right to work, nipping at your sensitive skin while rubbing your sides, one hand moving down lower between your legs until he was rubbing your clit and slow circles. Your breath caught in your throat, a shiver running up your spine.
You just had to relax and melt into him turning your head to meet his lips, he didn’t pull away as you kissed him and his fingers moved faster.
His other hand moved down, pushing two fingers into you and making you gasp and moan into the kiss. He didn’t want to rush you so he just kept them there, focusing on your clit with the other hand but he could already feel your walls fluttering around his fingers.
“That’s it, that’s a good girl, just relax.” He said, not changing the pace of his fingers. “Just be a good girl and cum on my fingers for me.” Of course you listened, you couldn’t not cum with the praise that he muttered, filling your thoughts of him and his love for you.
He kissed your cheek as you came down from the high. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
You nodded, eyes feeling heavy as you looked up at him. “This-this is how you feel when I…” You didn’t need to finish, he knew what you were talking about.
He chuckled and shrugged. “Kind of, feels better for you, guarantee it.” He mused.
“Do I not do a good job?” You asked, slight worry in your voice.
Slash was quick to shake his head. “No, nothing like that, no, just, like…” He sighed as he tried to think of a way to word it. “Biology..?” He said, unable to contain his laughter as he said it. “I swear I read somewhere it was better for women than it was for men.” You laughed at his explanation and moved off of his lap, laying down and nuzzling into your pillow.
Slash gave you time to recuperate, the last thing he wanted was to overstimulate you, he’d do that another time but for now he settled for flopping on top of you. “Jesus, you sound like those pig dog toys.”
“Did you just compare me to a pig and a dog toy in a single breath?” You demanded, voice coming out strained as you were being crushed under him. He really wasn’t that heavy and he wasn’t putting all his weight on you but it wasn’t easy breathing either. “And you still expect sex?”
Slash snorted at that, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m not expecting shit, I-I’m helping you sleep..?” You were married the night before and spent time travelling and sleeping on the way to your honeymoon, having woken up not long ago and feeling the need to consummate the marriage just as you’d always imagined. To a point, anyway.
He was stupid but it worked and you pushed back into him, moaning as you felt his hard cock against you. He slipped into you, drawing moans out of the both of you. He waited for you to adjust to him, his fingers had helped but it wasn’t the same. No, this was much, much better.
He began moving his hips, his thrusts quickly picking up speed until the room filled with the sound of skin on skin and your loud moans mixed with Slash’s low grunts and groans. “Fuck, listen to yourself, a virgin and already so fucking loud and needy for cock. My cock, sweetheart.”
“Yes! Yours, only yours!” You said, pulling your knees up. You were trying to get on your hands and knees, doggy style, but he put a hand on your back and kept your face mostly shoved into the pillow. Not that you mind, it just put him at that perfect angle where he repeatedly hit that spot that had you seeing stars.
“Oh, that’s a good girl, keep- fuck, keep saying that.” He said, giving your ass a quick smack. He was so pent up, he wasn’t trying to be rough with you but he couldn’t keep himself totally in control, not after all this time.
“Ngh! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Feels so good!” You whined, feeling that same knot from earlier building in your gut. Slash’s thrusts were quickly losing their rhythm as you squeezed him, sucking him in and bringing him closer to the edge as well.
He made sure you came, letting you rolled onto your stomach after he pulled out, hand going to his throbbing member so he could jerk himself off, hot strings of cum spurting onto your stomach before he flopped over beside you and pulled you to his side.
He gathered some of his cum on his fingers and brought them to your mouth, letting you lick them clean. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?” He asked breathlessly.
“Tired.” You responded after a moment, nuzzling into him.
He chuckled and nodded. “Sleep then, we’ve got the whole month and then the rest of our lives.”
#guns n roses#guns n roses fanfic#guns n roses x reader#gnr#guns n roses smut#gnr fic#gnr fanfiction#gnr x reader#guns n roses imagine#gnr smut#guns n roses rp#gunsnfuckinroses#slash guns n roses#gunsnroses#guns and roses#gnr rp#slash gnr#slash imagine#slash fluff#slash smut#slash hudson#slash fic#slash#slash fanfiction
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When Jason was younger, he loved being physically close to people. When he hung out with friends, they'd sit close together to play a game of uno, he'd laugh so hard he'd hit the person closest to him, he'd toss an arm over his friend's shoulder.
Then he was taken from the streets and brought to a mansion. Huge open spaces left no need for closeness like the small rooms he was used to. Bruce would let him hang around him, draped over his shoulders as the grimacing man pulled up casefiles on the computer, but never reciprocated. Because Bruce is closed off, just had his son move out and was grieving what once was. Sometimes he'd be in a good mood and ruffle Jason's hair if he'd gotten a good grade in school or finally perfected a self-defense move.
He went to a private school, where rich kids gloated about their wealth and asked Jason what he'd gotten for Christmas. When Jason replied, glowing with pride, they laughed. He'd gotten a first edition Pride and Prejudice, but the kids said it was a girl book and that reading is for nerds. Needless to say, he didn't get along very well.
He'd lean up against Alfred when reading in the library, but the butler frequently had to leave to do his duties, leaving his side cold.
Eventually, he turned to the family dog, Ace, and to Bruce's dismay he got the dog to cuddle up next to him while he slept. Alfred still has a picture of the first time he'd seen it, and keeps it in his wallet. He never said anything, but once remarked about the dog hair on the sheets being impossible to remove.
Then Jason, optimistic and confident, went after Joker. We all know how that ended.
His mother betrayed him, but, loyal as a dog to its master, he shielded her from the blast. He died.
When he came back, the first thing he remembers is the pain of digging through silk and wood and dirt and grass. His fingers aching. In one big blur, there was pain. Men approaching him, beating him to get a reaction. Reflexes learned from the Bat kicked in and he blocked, but the stinging of the hits grew deeper than skin.
Then he awoke, fully, in a stinging pool of green, viscous liquid. His bones ache, his skin nearly bursts, and immediately he is torn out by a clawed hand. Talia Al Ghul, with her long acrylic nails, rips open his skin as she heaves him from the pool.
Pain. So much of it. She strokes his hair, but the remnants of the Lazarus pit still sting, and she's just massaging it deeper into his scalp.
Then they're running, fleeing from her grandfather. The wind is icy and cuts through clothes, more pain. At the edge of a cliff, he stares with wide eyes as she shoves a backpack into his arms and pushes him.
He falls through icy air into shards of even colder water.
The pain fuels him, drives him to seek the shore. It drives him to anger, rage. Why does it hurt? Why, why does everything hurt all the time? His scars, his skin, his heart. He remembers Bruce. Cold, callous, calculating. Alfred, loving but too busy with his duties. His classmates, laughing at him. A heaviness like a brick in his gut weighs him down and drives him.
He learns, he kills, he fights, he hurts.
When Talia sits across from him at a dining table, she drags soft fingers over his callused hands, and... it hurts. There are no nails, only soft pads of her fingers. Still, it sends a signal of pain, of danger, to his brain. He pulls his hand back and swallows a hiss.
Then he returns, the prodigal son of the Bat. Fully clothed, boots to gloves to even a helmet. No one is touching him, never again.
He places a bomb on the Batmobile, and falters as Bruce approaches. The weight in his gut keeps him from igniting the fuse, from pressing the button. And he curses at himself, you had one job. You came back for one fucking reason, and you can't even do that.
He crosses paths with the Bat after antagonising him from the shadows. Bruce beats him, but what hurts the most is the helmet shattering. His eye is exposed to the cold Gotham air, exposed to the malicious stare of the man before him. He blinks it away and lifts the helmet.
The confrontation goes exactly as you would expect.
After a long time, he is welcomed back. There are more, now. Child soldiers. They're friendly, though wary. Though he was once the happiest of them, his new reputation precedes him. Violent, angry.
He's not angry. He's hurt. Always has been.
#this is for that one tiktok commenter that asked me to share this#here you go queen#dc comics#batfam#jason todd#batfamily#dc#dick grayson#bruce wayne#batman
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Prologue
Summary: At twenty-six, you never expected your life to look like this: a veteran, a college dropout, now running drugs to cover your late father’s debts. The military took you away for a brief moment, but now you're back in your hometown, keeping family at a distance to keep them safe. Your simple plan to clear the debt, one job at a time, unravels the moment Mabel steps into your life.
next part
The sun hung low over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the dock. Waves lapped lazily against the wooden beams, the scent of salt and summer thick in the air. You lean against the railing, watching a group chatter and laugh in the distance. You often tell yourself to be more present, more focused, but your mind keeps drifting back to the stack of bills waiting at home, the weight of your father's memory heavy on your shoulders.
A ripple of laughter draws your attention back to the group, and your eyes settling on a short girl, bangs close to covering her eyes. From where you're standing, you can see the freckles on her cheeks, around her eyes. The sun is doing a great job of shining on them. The group comes to a stop at the edge of the deck, and she sets her bag down on the railing, carefully, flipping her hair back as she leans into the conversation. The way the light caught her face, the easy smile on her lips—something about her made your pulse quicken.
You just wanted to know her name. That's all you can ask for. She seems...magnetic, a bright spot in a world that has felt too dark for too long.
You lean against the deck's railing, clenching your jaw to have some self control. You have bigger things to think about than some girl. You can't go on and fall for the first cute girl who catches your eye, not with everything else hanging over you. The stack of bills at home, the weight of responsibility, and the promises you made to your family all tugged at the back of your mind, reminding you to stay focused.
But then you hear a clatter. The girl's bag—teetering on the edge of the railing—slips, toppling into the water below. The guy standing beside her grimaces, looking over the railing, watching the bag hit the surface of the water.
"Charlie!" she gasps, reaching out too late as her bag falls. She looks helpless, staring after it as if willing it to float back to her.
You watch for a moment as this Charlie apologizes profusely, staring as the bag sinks little by little. He doesn't move and you assume he doesn't have a plan on how to retrieve the bag.
You don't think, the plan in your head is quick and simple. You kick your shoes off and tug your shirt off, having prepared for a swim today anyway. The wetsuit hugs your body nicely, both comfortable and efficient. You're glad the military introduced you to it. You grip the railing and push yourself over it, sucking in a breath in time for you to hit the surface.
Just before you enter the water, you had heard someone shout; "Holy shit, she jumped!"
The water stings your eyes as you look around, but soon you find the bag sinking further and further down. You swim towards it, grateful for your years of training, every stroke powered by determination and urgency. The water surrounds you, a good mixture of cool and warmth, pushing you to move faster. You reach out, your fingers grazing the bag just as it begins to settle on the sandy bottom.
With a final push, you dive deeper, grasping the bag tightly. As you pull it back toward the surface, the weight of it pulls you down slightly, but you kick hard, breaking through the surface and gasping for air. The sunlight glimmers on the water around you as you make your way back to the dock, heart racing from both the swim and the thrill of doing something reckless.
You spit water out of your mouth as you surface, blinking back the drips of water from entering your eyes. On shore, you catch a glimpse of this Charlie guy kicking his shoes off and beginning to unbutton his shorts to enter the water.
You swim to shore, trying your best to avoid the bag from getting in the water anymore. When you reach land, you walk out and wipe the water from your face, shaking your head to get the water out of your ears.
"I was..." Charlie begins as you walk towards him, "gonna get it," he mumbles as you walk past him.
Mabel is down from the pier, friends behind right her; they all come to most likely watch the interaction. You exhale a breath, one you struggle to catch, at first because of the swim, but now, with Mabel up close, her presence makes it even harder to breathe.
You clear your throat and extend her soaked bag to her. She takes it with a laugh, squeezing the water out of it as best as she can.
"Thanks," she mumbles, eyeing her bag for a moment. "I'll see if I can save anything in here later. Mabel," she extends her hand towards you.
You take her hand, shaking it gently. "Y/N."
There's a moment of just you two holding hands, and you don't think much of it, given that she doesn't really react either. It isn't until Charlie clears his throat when you notice.
You blink out of your stupor, taking a tentative step back. "Anyway, um, steer clear of the deck. Those railings are definitely not sturdy," you point up at the pier, the deck's wooden railings chipping away little by little. "It was nice meeting you, Mabel...Charles–"
"Charlie," he corrects. Mabel's laugh can be heard underneath it.
"And others," you ignore him as you wave at the rest of the group. "Have a good night," you turn on your heels and make your way back up to grab your things.
"Hey, wait up," you hear as you bend down to grab your shoes. You glance over your shoulder and see Mabel jogging toward you. "We're heading to grab a bite to eat, you're welcome to come–as a proper thank you."
You weigh your options. On the one hand, you are very tempted to join them just to see more of her. There's something about Mabel that pulls you in, makes the heaviness of your day-to-day fade, even if only for a little while. But on the other hand, you know you have to keep your distance. You've got things to take care of, and getting too close to people, especially someone like her, could complicate everything.
You sigh, running a hand through your damp hair. "I appreciate the offer, really," you start, standing up and slinging your shirt over your shoulder. "But I've got some stuff to handle tonight." You lie.
Today was just a free day for you. You slept in, made yourself some brunch then came here to walk the beach twice. Now the sun is setting and you have to head home to cook yourself dinner. You may just order out though.
Mabel's expression falters for a second, but she quickly recovers, her smile never quite fading. "No worries, I get it. Maybe another time?"
You hesitate, glancing at the group waiting for her, then back to her expectant eyes. There's something hopeful in the way she looks at you, and for a moment, you almost change your mind.
"Yeah," you nod. "Maybe another time."
She grins, a small, genuine smile that lingers even as she turns to rejoin her friends. You watch her go, the sound of their laughter mixing with the crash of waves against the pier, and you can't help but feel like you've missed out on something. Something good.
Then, you think, you could save yourself some money by joining them. You turn and sigh, hurrying after them. You can't believe just the sound of this girl's laugh made you change your mind.
"Umm," you clear your throat, halting their movements. "I changed my mind. If you don't mind..." you wait for their response–her response.
Mabel nods. "Come on. It's not a far walk," she says with a smile. You smile back and follow, walking beside her and a conversation easily begins between the two of you.
Charlie raises an eyebrow but says nothing as Mabel leads the way. The group starts walking toward the nearby food spot, one you know of since you were a kid. The owner is a friend of the family since your dad made friends with everyone and their mother. You call him uncle.
Once you all enter, the familiar smell of grilled food and old wooden booths hits you, immediately bringing back memories of your father. You try to push them aside as you follow Mabel and the group to a large booth near the back of the restaurant. You hear the sizzling of the burgers and your stomach growls.
Focus on your hunger, not the memories, you think as you slide into the booth.
You settle in beside Mabel, and as the group chats around you, you can't help but feel a strange sense of belonging in this place. Even though you hadn't planned on it, this night is turning out to be more than just another routine evening. You hadn't been here since you came to visit that one time a few years back.
You were on leave and your dad insisted to come because it's practically tradition. It also helped that Rudy, the owner, gave you all free food when you came by. Veteran special, he said.
"So," Mabel turns to you, "you've been here before?"
You nod, glancing around. "Yeah, my dad used to bring me here when I was a kid. The owner, Rudy, is an old family friend." You tell her, taking the menu she offers you. You pretend to look, but you already know what you're going to order.
Hell, the waitress you see coming by knows what your order will be.
"Well, if it isn't our sergeant," Jodie, the waitress, who is also Rudy's wife, greets you. Your cheeks burn as you feel questioning glares on you. "With your own platoon this time–hi, how are you? I'm practically this little vet's Tia." She pinches your cheeks.
You chuckle nervously as Jodie pinches your cheeks, glancing around the table to see Mabel and the rest of the group watching the interaction with amused curiosity. "Hey, Tia Jodie," you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "Just, uh, grabbing a bite with some new friends."
Jodie beams at you, her eyes twinkling as she shifts her attention to Mabel. "Well, isn't that sweet! It's nice to see you making friends. Been worried you'd become a hermit with how often you're here solo."
All you can do is hum in response.
"I know your order," Jodie says then looks at the rest of them. "How about you guys? Need more time or are you ready to order?"
They all tell her they need more time, so she excuses herself to take care of the other customers. She sends you a knowing look, one you understand well.
While your family wasn't all that prideful about your military background, Rudy and Jodie were.
Rudy and Jodie had always been like an extra set of parents, beaming with pride over your accomplishments when your own family barely mentioned them. They were the ones who celebrated your milestones, threw you small parties when you came back from deployments, and made you feel seen in ways that sometimes your own parents and sister didn't.
You catch Jodie's knowing look as she walks away, and you can't help but feel a small pang of guilt. She's always looking out for you, and though she means well, the attention sometimes feels heavy. Especially now.
You wish your parents, especially your dad, at least acknowledged your accomplishments. You'd tell them about only in the presence of Rudy and Jodie, simply because you didn't like the awkward silences after you said it.
"So," Charlie speaks up, setting his menu down and looking directly at you. "You're military? I noticed the tattoo—didn't think it was for your dog tag."
You shift uncomfortably, tugging at your sleeve, the damp fabric resisting. "Yeah," you clear your throat, feeling the weight of his gaze. "But this tattoo is actually for my grandfather. He was the one who inspired me to enlist." You shrug, fingers tracing the ink, the colors still vibrant.
"What branch?" Nunes—one of Mabel's friends, as you recently learned—asks, leaning forward with interest.
"Army. Rangers," you reply, instinctively touching the necklace around your neck. The pendant was given to you after finishing training, a rare token of honor from your unit—a reminder of the brotherhood you forged during those years.
"Semper fi," Nunes says, raising a fist in solidarity.
You hum, a slight smile breaking through. "That's the Marines, but I appreciate the spirit."
The whole table bursts into laughter as Nunes frowns, realizing his mistake.
"Impressive," Costa, another friend of Mabel's, nods with newfound respect in his eyes. "Not many can say they've gone through that."
"I would've signed up for the military if I knew they handed out free jewelry," Charlie jokes, his tone oblivious to the weight in the air.
Anne-Marie, Costa's wife, from her husband's side, looks at him. "Have some sense, Char," she shakes her head. "She trained with the Rangers. She could kill you with one hand tied behind her back."
"That's for sure," your aunt returns, smiling at the chuckle that escapes your lips. You don't miss the grimace that crosses Charlie's face, amusing you more. Jodie looks between you all. "So, ready?"
You all place your orders before she disappears, but not before once again, sending you a knowing look. You offer her a smile in return, a little shy. She walks off to put in your orders, leaving you alone with the group.
The group returns to conversation, a different topic at hand now, which you're grateful for. You keep quiet, as always; by nature, and training, to just listen and observe.
You smile to yourself, finding comfort in their banter. There's something refreshing about being in a group where laughter flows so freely. It reminds you of the times you spent with your own friends, sharing dumb stories and letting the world slip away.
As you sit back, you catch Mabel glancing at you every so often, her expression lighting up whenever your eyes meet. There's a warmth in her smile that makes your chest tighten just a bit, a quiet flutter of anticipation stirring in you each time. It's subtle but unmistakable, like the start of something you're not sure you're ready for—but can't seem to ignore either.
The group dives into their meals with gusto, devouring their plates like they haven't eaten in days. You, on the other hand, take your time, savoring each bite like it might be your last. It's not just the food, though. There's something comforting about the familiar atmosphere of Rudy's place, the faint hum of conversation, the smell of the sea in the distance. It all feels like a moment you don't want to rush.
Jodie eventually returns, sliding the bill discreetly in front of you. You don't even need to open it to know what it says. When you do, the words "All covered" are scribbled at the bottom, the price conveniently blacked out. Typical.
You glance up just in time to catch Jodie winking at you before she heads off to tend to another table, and you can't help but roll your eyes with a smile. One of these days, you're going to get her to let you pay for a meal, but tonight is clearly not that night.
As you lean back in your chair, Mabel watches you, curiosity and something else dancing in her gaze. Maybe she senses there's more to you than you let on, or maybe she's just trying to figure you out, but either way, you can feel her drawing closer. And somehow, you don't mind.
You explain to them of the bill situation, and they argue that they should pay something. You tell them to leave a tip, and to hope she accepts it. Jodie can be stubborn.
You watch from a distance as they all sum up some cash to leave for Jodie. As the group pools together cash for the tip, you catch glimpses of their conversation, the light banter as they tease one another over how much to leave. Mabel's laughter rings out above the rest, and you can't help but smile to yourself. It's easy to see why people are drawn to her—there's a natural warmth and kindness that comes with her presence, something that makes you feel welcome, even when you don't expect it.
You stand in the corner, eyeing the frames on the wall; pictures of people with fishes or with wide smiles after a long day at sea. Rudy's place is filled with memories, the kind that tell stories of good days, hard work, and community. You've always admired that about this spot—how it feels like more than just a restaurant. It's a place where people come together, no matter the time or the situation.
Your eyes stop on a particular frame. It's one of your father with your mother, pregnant with you while your older sister is in his arms. It was clear it was after a week of being at sea, your sister's disgusted look on her face says it all. Your mother's eyes crinkle as she laughs while your father pouts.
You stare at the photo for a moment, lost in the nostalgia of a simpler time. It's a rare shot of your father looking carefree, something you don't see often in your memories. Back then, everything felt different. Simpler, maybe. Your sister's scrunched-up face, your mother's laugh—those are the small moments you didn't realize you'd cherish until they became memories.
Mabel's voice cuts through your thoughts. "Is that your family?" She's standing beside you now, her eyes following your gaze to the picture.
You nod. "Yeah. My dad used to take us all out after his fishing trips. That's my mom, and my sister when she was little."
Mabel tilts her head, taking in the scene. "You look a lot like your mom."
You glance at the picture again, and for the first time in a while, you can see the resemblance. "Yeah, I guess I do," you say quietly.
"Faro!"
You turn; the voice is instantly recognizable. Mabel follows your gaze to see an older man with a dirty apron around his neck, arms outstretched.
"Faro?" she asks quietly. You exhale, shaking your head a bit.
"Childhood nickname," you reply simply.
"Is it short for anything?" Mabel asks, curious. From the corner of your eye, you see Charlie, his curiosity even more apparent than hers.
"No, just Faro." You shrug, rubbing the back of your neck, suddenly nervous. Charlie blinks, and with his lack of reaction, you feel the need to explain. "It means 'lighthouse' in Spanish. My dad used to call me that..." Your voice fades as you remember your father saying you always helped him find his way home.
"Were you leaving without saying goodbye?"
A part of you didn’t want to see Rudy, partly because of that nickname he insists on using. To you, it's a reminder of what you’ve lost. But he says it like he doesn’t know what you’ve been up to, like he’s unaware of how far you've fallen from the person your father once saw in you. It’s why you’ve avoided the diner these past few months. You know he knows. You just can’t handle a speech—a reprimand for your choices.
"Hey, Tio," you say, then give Mabel an apologetic look. You realize you haven't had the time to really talk to her. But you excuse yourself anyway, hoping to have this inevitable talk in private.
Mabel watches you go, her curiosity about you only increasing, but she doesn't follow. She wonders how you grew up here, yet she's never seen or heard of you before. In a town like this, everyone tends to know everyone. Secrets rarely stay hidden, and stories travel fast. Hell, everyone got word of Weeks death the second it happened. Her acceptance to college also spread like wildfire, her mother trying to feed off her before she went off to college.
But you? You're an enigma, someone who seems to have roots in the community but remains on the outskirts, just out of reach.
As she listens to the light banter from the rest of the group, Mabel's mind drifts back to the way Rudy greeted you—the familiarity, the warmth, and the concern. There's clearly a deeper connection there, something important that ties you to this place.
Instead, she nods and turns back to join the group, giving you space to handle the situation with Rudy.
You walk over to him, feeling the weight of his gaze as you approach. His arms are still outstretched, but there's a seriousness in his eyes, one that tells you this conversation won't be easy. Rudy wraps you in a tight hug, his apron still smelling faintly of seafood and the sea breeze, and for a moment, you let yourself sink into the comfort of it.
He hugs you tightly, patting your back twice before gently pulling back to look at you. You hope he doesn't see it. The faint outline of a bruise that is healing on your left cheek. A trained eye can see it; and Rudy had a very well trained eye.
If he does see it, he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he smiles and pats your shoulder.
"I'm glad you're here," he says, then glances over your shoulder. "With friends. I always said you needed friends who weren't military," he chuckles.
You glance back, eyes finding Mabel the instant you do. She meets your eyes for a second before you turn back, feeling caught. "I just ran into them. They invited me to join them," you shrug, not making a big deal of it.
Rudy nods, though his smile falters for a brief second, sensing there's more you're not saying. He's always been good at reading between the lines. His hand stays on your shoulder, a silent gesture of support. "Well, I'm still glad you're here," he repeats, his tone softening. "This place... it misses you, you know?"
You look away, avoiding his gaze. "I've been busy, trying to make ends meet," you tell him.
"Right. Busy getting yourself into trouble, huh?" Rudy's voice remains light, but the weight of his words settles between you. He may not say it outright, but he knows more than you want to admit.
You've been back in town for a year and a half now, and he knows of your back and forth of wanting to be with family while helping them pay bills. Your father's death took a toll on you in a way you hadn't expected–his added debt didn't help matters, either. You didn't take time to grieve, you went straight to getting jobs to pay off your father's stupid debts.
You try to laugh it off, but it sounds hollow even to your ears. "Just trying to stay afloat."
Rudy raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your attempt to downplay it. "Staying afloat shouldn't mean drowning yourself in other people's problems," he says, his voice still kind but firm. "You've got your own life to live, Faro. Don't forget that."
You look down, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle back on your shoulders. "I can't just ignore it, though. I have to help," you instinctively reach for your necklace, a habit you picked up. "It gets back to my mom–I won't be able to live with myself."
A look of understanding crosses his face. "Okay," he places his hand on your shoulder again, pointing a stern finger at you now. "You come to me if things get bad, entendiste?"
You nod, grateful as always for his support. It feels heavy, but it's nice to know you have it. "Understood," you say, smiling as best as you can.
"Go on," Rudy tells you, nodding. "That girl you've been eyeing sucks at hiding her staring."
You can't help but let out a soft chuckle at Rudy's remark, glancing back toward where Mabel is still with the others. She quickly looks away, pretending to be focused on the conversation, but you catch the faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"She's not staring," you say, trying to sound casual, but Rudy just gives you a knowing look.
"Right," he chuckles himself, then crosses his arms. "You always liked competition, so I think you should know the short haired one hasn't stopped staring at her either."
You sigh, the weight of Rudy's words settling in. Charlie's interest in Mabel was obvious, and while Rudy might joke about it being a competition, you didn't see it that way. You weren't interested in chasing after someone like she was a trophy to be won.
Your father's lesson echoed in your mind—a woman is never a prize. He always made sure you and your sister understood that respect came first, especially when it came to relationships. To him, love wasn't about winning; it was about mutual respect, honesty, and a real connection.
"I'm not here to compete, Tio," you say, shaking your head. "If she's interested in him, that's her choice."
Rudy nods, but there's a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "You're right, of course. But sometimes, it's not about competing. Sometimes it's just about letting her see who you really are."
You take in his words as you glance back at Mabel, her laughter ringing out as Charlie says something to the group. She catches your eye once more, and this time, there's no pretending not to notice. Maybe Rudy's right—maybe it's just about being yourself and seeing what happens next.
You shake your head. You are not looking for a relationship. It's the last thing you need right now. You decide not to comment on his words and simply tell him thanks again. He pulls you in for a longer hug than before than orders you to make friends.
You're unable to find words to say back to that so you walk off with a head shake, smiling despite yourself. The group, surprisingly, was waiting on you to leave. You thank them, smiling as you follow behind them.
The question of what's next hovers on the tip of your tongue, but Nunes seems to have the same thought.
"Where we going?" he asks, his eyebrows drawn together as he walks a step ahead while you linger behind.
You’re grateful Nunes voiced it before you had to. The last thing you want is to be pulled into a conversation with Mabel while your mind is still racing with Rudy's words. You already see Charlie making his move, staying close to her, clearly angling to steer the conversation in his favor. The idea of stepping into that dynamic feels uneasy.
"So, what’s the Army Rangers’ motto again?" Nunes asks, catching you off guard as he suddenly appears by your side. He shrugs sheepishly. "Just so I don’t put my foot in my mouth next time."
You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Rangers lead the way,” you say, feeling a sense of pride in the words that goes deeper than you expected.
Nunes nods, repeating it under his breath like he’s committing it to memory. “Got it. Rangers lead the way.” He picks up his speed and shouts at the others. "Hey, guys! I figured it out!"
You let out another chuckle, staying a few steps behind, keeping your distance, hoping to avoid any potential awkwardness. Mabel glances over her shoulder at you, as if she can sense the space you're putting between yourself and the rest of the group. There's a flicker of something in her eyes but she doesn't press you, turning her attention back to Charlie.
Costa turns around, noticing your lingering pace. "You coming, or you planning to walk the whole way back like a ghost?" he jokes, smirking.
You let out a short laugh, shaking off the tension. "Just taking in the scenery, man," you reply, speeding up just enough to not seem distant but still giving yourself enough space.
Truth is, you're not entirely sure what's next. You weren't even supposed to be part of this group in the first place, but here you are, tagging along, wondering where this road will lead you—literally and figuratively.
The scenery is nothing new, one you see everyday on your morning walk to the beach and back. You can't help it, old habits die hard. Your dad got a house walking distance from the piers mostly to avoid driving to work but also because he didn't want to be far if anything were to happen.
It also made it easy for him to just walk home, shower then sleep in his own bed.
What is new, is Mabel. The sound of her laugh, her smile and the way her presence draws you in without even trying. She's unlike anyone you've come across in a long time—bright, carefree, but with a depth you can sense just beneath the surface. She has this...you can't really explain it, but you want to find it what "this" is. You've caught glimpses of it in the way she listens to the people around her, in how her eyes soften when someone mentions something meaningful. She's got a story, just like everyone else and you want to know it.
In a town like this, everyone knows everyone's story. Everyone's background. Yet, the distance you created with this town the moment you discovered your father's dark truth, you stopped listening to the constant chatter and rumors this small town discusses.
You've learned to tune out the noise, the way people gossip and speculate about each other's lives. Especially with the rumors of your father's truths. The once kind and gentle girl-dad now a turned drug runner to pay off his gambling debt? Yeah, you stopped listening the moment you found out the rumors you may hear are more than often true. It's how you've survived, by keeping a low profile and focusing on your own problems. Your father did everything to keep your family's business low profile too. Until he made a deal with the wrong person.
But now, with Mabel, you find yourself wanting to listen again. To understand her story, not because of what others might say, but because you genuinely want to hear it from her.
The mystery surrounding her is different, not the kind that spreads through whispers but the kind that makes you curious—curious about what she's been through, what makes her laugh the way she does, and what's hiding behind those moments when her smile falters, even if only for a second. Her friendships. Her family.
But you remind yourself, as you walk along the familiar streets, that this isn't the time to get wrapped up in someone else. You've got enough on your plate—debts, responsibilities, and the pressure of trying to stay afloat. Still, there's something about her that makes it hard to shake the thought.
As the group continues walking, Charlie makes a joke that has everyone laughing, including Mabel. You think, she's an innocent, kind and beautiful soul. And this is just from a few hours with her.
What will trying to be just her friend do to that innocence, to that kindness and beauty of her soul?
You'll ruin it. Just like your father did with your family. So, you remember your training, and do what you do best.
When Mabel glances over her shoulder to look for you, you're gone. So is the smile she had all night just by simply being in your presence.
~~~~
Note: bear with me, I had a clear picture as to how I wanted this story to end but it changed like three times already. my brain is coming up with a new idea every time I proofread the chapters I have done so updates will be very slow.
#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x reader#lighthouse#mabel (finestkind) x reader#mabel (finestkind)#finestkind
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La vie est belle
Thibault, a 35-year-old with a big chest, strong arms embodies the ex-jock look with his abs covered by the good French life. He lives in a quaint French countryside filled with wine farms that have been in his family for four generations. Thibault is a hard worker who has dedicated himself to weightlifting at his home gym and running the farm. However, he struggles with finding a romantic partner as there are no openly gay individuals in his small town, and he despises city life. Thankfully, his mother and his four loving sisters constantly pamper him.
Despite his weightlifting and because of his mother's delicious food he said goodbye to his abs when he returned home after his economics study. Home made pies, foie gras, cheese boards, stews, etc, all made it impossible to live on just chicken and broccoli. Thibault has always harbored an ambition to win prizes for his family's wines. However, the sudden death of his father left him unable to achieve this dream as his father didn’t get the chance to leave him the family’s wine blending secrets. As a means to gather feedback, Thibault starts dining at a restaurant that sells wines from the region and forms a bond with the owners who pamper him with delicious food. Unfortunately, indulging in these culinary delights leads to him gaining some weight. Mainly around his belly.
After a few years of trying out blends Thibault's fortunes change when he becomes the winner of a prestigious regional wine festival. Thrilled with this recognition, he takes his wines to various other festivals and attends big parties and tastings. However, as he immerses himself in this world, Thibault's belly continues to grow alongside his success.
Thibault's wines gain popularity, and upscale restaurants invite him to bring his wines for menu tastings. His mother, concerned about his well-being, packs snacks for him to enjoy during the long drives. These snacks, along with his indulgence in fatty breakfasts to combat hangovers, only contribute to his expanding waistline. Eventually, Thibault finds himself needing to buy a new wardrobe to accommodate his weight gain.
To combat the effects of his overeating, Thibault starts running. However, his fitness journey comes to an abrupt halt when he injures his ankle, rendering him unable to do anything but focus on exercises for his chest and arms. This setback only serves to bulk up these muscles, causing Thibault to outgrow his gym shirts.
His awarded wines give him to write about his passion in the culinary world. As a food and wine critic for a prominent international newspaper, Thibault finds himself in the perfect position to recover from his injury. His mother aids in his recovery by preparing delectable food pairings for his wine tastings, and farmers from the countryside send him their specialties to try. These days are filled with writing and indulging in delicious meals.
Unfortunately, Thibault's mother falls ill and entrusts her daughters with taking care of him. Each night, a different sister cooks for him, ensuring he has big portions of food to fuel his growing business and appetite. As a result, Thibault's belly expands exponentially, making simple tasks such as tying his shoes more challenging and leaving him out of breath quickly.
Due to his expertise in the wine industry, Thibault is appointed as the chairman of a prestigious wine qualification company. This honorable position brings him recognition from farmers who send him gifts, food, and wine. As Thibault visits various towns for his work, he finds himself surrounded by enticing food and never-ending parties, causing his weight to steadily increase.
Thibault's godson Bernard, the son of his closest friends and neighbors, came back from university in the US. The boy turned into a handsome and muscular young man, expresses a desire to work for his godfather. Thibault gladly accepts and tries not to fall in live with the young man. Wanting to keep his beloved godfather happy, Bernard takes charge of cooking their lunches. Bernard had learned to cook big American meals in dorm combining this with French taste. Thibault, trying to hide his crush, started to eat everything in sight. As Thibault becomes a charitable figure, he is invited to various events and wants Bernard to accompany him everywhere.
While Thibault sleeps off the hangovers from wine filled nights Bernard starts his days with a run and picks up breakfast for his godfather. One morning Thibault looked out of the window and sees his godson shirtless sweating and stretching after his run. The sight is amazing, the young man has sculpted abs and a big chest. Amazingly big legs and a round ass. He feels his dick getting hard, but when he looked down he couldn't even see his feet anymore. Bernard caught Thibault staring and waved and holds up a bag of pastries. Thibault is embarrassed. How can he be attracted to his godson, its just wrong he tells himself. Bernard brings up the breakfast to his room, still shirtless. He gives the bag to Thibault and tells him he bought som extra for the long roadtrip. The trip is tense, Thibault didnt dare to speak and ate all the pastries within in the first hour. Bernard thinks his godfather is just hungry and after pumping gas he returns to the car with more food.
This can’t continue Thibault thinks to himself as he looks down to his massive belly sitting in his lap. Looking at his reflexing in the car mirror, he suddenly realized what happened to him, he wekt from fit college jock to grey haired morbidly obese 43 years old single gay wine farmer.
Stay tuned for part 2
#fictionalweightgain#maleweightgain#maleweightgainstories#weightgain#weightgainstories#fictionalstories#wg fantasy#wg fiction#exjock#aiweightgain
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𝒲𝒪𝑅𝒯𝐻 𝐻𝒪𝐿𝒟𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒪-𝑅𝒜𝐹𝐸 𝒞𝒜𝑀𝐸𝑅𝒪𝒩
𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 Rafe and Y/N share a peaceful moment on a cliff, where Rafe opens up about feeling lost. Y/N reassures him that it's okay to not have all the answers and that he's not alone.
✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮
It was well past midnight, and the world felt unnaturally quiet, save for the crashing waves echoing along the shore. Rafe and Y/N were perched atop a small cliff overlooking the ocean, with the stars spread above them like scattered diamonds. It was a rare, peaceful moment that felt more like an illusion in their wild, unpredictable lives.
Rafe let out a sigh and glanced over at Y/N, who sat beside him, knees pulled up to her chest. She was staring out at the horizon, her face illuminated by moonlight. He hadn’t seen her look this calm in a long time.
"So…why'd you drag me out here?" Y/N broke the silence, finally looking over at him with a raised brow and a tiny smile tugging at her lips.
Rafe shrugged, trying to look casual. “Thought maybe we could use a break. Just us, away from everything, you know?"
Y/N gave him a half-smile. "Everything like, you know, the treasure hunt, your family, the chaos?"
“Pretty much,” Rafe replied, chuckling softly. He stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his hands as he gazed at her. “I figured you might need a break, too.”
She let out a soft laugh, resting her chin on her knees. “Yeah, I probably do. I didn’t even realize I was running on fumes until we got out here.” She looked at him, eyes curious. “But I think you needed this more than me.”
His eyes dropped to the sand, and he was quiet for a long time. Y/N watched him carefully, noting the way his brows furrowed, the tension in his jaw.
“You know,” he began quietly, almost as if speaking to himself, “I don’t really know what normal feels like anymore. Like, at all.”
She reached over, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Hey, don’t do that.”
He looked up, eyes meeting hers, a flicker of surprise in his expression. “Do what?”
“Beat yourself up,” she said firmly, her voice soft but steady. “You’ve been through a lot, Rafe. We both have. Sometimes it’s okay to just… feel lost. You don’t have to know the answers.”
Rafe looked at her hand on his arm, the warmth of her touch a reminder that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he always felt. “Sometimes I just… I think I’m too far gone,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “Like no matter what I do, I’m never gonna get it right.”
Y/N shifted closer, searching his face. “You’re not too far gone, Rafe. Not even close.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “You’re here with me, aren’t you?”
A small smile tugged at his lips, though it was weighed down by disbelief. “Why do you even care?”
Y/N smiled, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “Because you’re worth it. You just don’t see it yet.”
Rafe’s eyes softened, something in them shifting as he looked at her. “I don’t get you,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re so good. I don’t know what you’re doing hanging out with someone like me.”
She shrugged, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Maybe I like a challenge.”
He chuckled, his usual cocky smirk making a rare appearance. “Oh, so I’m a challenge now?”
“Absolutely.” She nudged him playfully. “And maybe I’m not as ‘good’ as you think. I have my moments.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
Y/N bit her lip, thinking back to the times she’d taken risks for him, standing by him when everyone else wrote him off. “Like how I didn’t give up on you, even when it probably would’ve been easier to walk away. And how I trusted you when no one else did. That counts as a little reckless, right?”
Rafe stared at her, his expression softening even more. He reached out, his hand brushing her cheek. “Y/N… you make me feel like I could actually be better. Like maybe I deserve more.”
“Maybe you do,” she whispered, looking at him earnestly. “Maybe we both do.”
They held each other’s gaze, and for the first time, Rafe felt like maybe, just maybe, he was capable of being someone else someone he could respect. He shifted closer, his fingers gently tracing along her cheekbone.
“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the waves. “What if I mess this up?”
She gave him a reassuring smile, her hand finding his. “Then we’ll fix it. Together.”
Rafe took a deep breath, squeezing her hand. He looked down at their intertwined fingers, feeling a warmth spread through him he hadn’t felt in a long time. “I don’t deserve you.”
She squeezed his hand back, her smile unwavering. “Maybe it’s not about deserving. Maybe it’s just about being here. Right now.”
Rafe’s lips curved into a soft smile, and he let himself relax, letting go of some of the weight he’d been carrying. “Okay,” he whispered, a hint of hope in his voice. “I’m here.”
They stayed like that, just watching the waves, their hands intertwined. And for the first time in a long time, Rafe felt a peace he didn’t know he could feel.
Rafe and Y/N stayed on the cliff for a while longer, enveloped by the silence and each other’s presence. It was like the world had stopped for them, like everything else, the treasure, the danger, his family, had faded into the background. It felt surreal.
Eventually, Y/N leaned back, letting her shoulders sink into the sand. She glanced up at him and patted the spot beside her. "Come on, lie down. The stars look amazing from here."
Rafe raised an eyebrow, but the way she looked so content, so untroubled by anything, made him want to join her. He lay down beside her, resting his head on his arms and gazing up at the sky. The stars glittered above them, bright and sharp against the dark canvas.
After a while, Y/N turned her head to look at him, studying his face in the dim light. “You ever think about getting out of here? Like… completely?”
Rafe took a deep breath. “Yeah. I think about it all the time, actually,” he admitted. “But I’m not sure what’s even left for me out there, you know? Like, what would I even do?”
“Anything you want,” she replied, her tone hopeful. “You’re smart, Rafe. And you’re good at things you don’t give yourself credit for. If you wanted to, you could build something new.”
He gave her a small, skeptical smile. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Maybe it is.” She shrugged, nudging his shoulder gently. “Maybe we just make things more complicated than they need to be.”
He looked over at her, taking in her expression, her genuine belief in him. It felt foreign, like something he didn’t know how to hold onto. But he wanted to try.
“You’d leave all this behind? The treasure, everything?” he asked.
Y/N gave a soft laugh. “I think I’ve had my fill of treasure hunts and near-death experiences. Maybe it’s time I go find some normalcy. And I don’t know…” She hesitated, her voice quieting. “It would be nice not to do it alone.”
Rafe felt his chest tighten at her words. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering there. “You don’t have to. I mean, if you really wanted, I could come with you.”
She looked at him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. “You’d do that?”
He nodded, his expression serious. “I know I’m a mess, Y/N. But being around you makes me want to be better. I don’t know what that looks like yet but I think I want to try.” He paused, looking down at his hands, uncharacteristically vulnerable. “If you’d have me.”
Her eyes softened, and she took his hand in hers. “I think we both have things we need to figure out. But maybe we can do that together. Just take it one step at a time.”
Rafe smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile, and nodded. “One step at a time.”
They lay there in silence for a while, both lost in thought, imagining a future that didn’t seem so impossible anymore. After a while, Rafe turned to her again, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“So, what’s the first step?”
She laughed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know, maybe get out of here before we get ourselves into more trouble?”
“Good call,” he said, chuckling. Then he sat up, offering her his hand. “Ready to go, partner?”
Y/N grinned, taking his hand and letting him pull her to her feet. “Only if you promise not to let go.”
He held her hand a little tighter, meeting her gaze with an intensity that was both reassuring and a little vulnerable. “I won’t,” he said softly. “I promise.”
And with that, they headed back down the cliff, hand in hand, feeling like maybe, just maybe, they’d found something worth holding onto.
#rafe imagine#rafe obx#rafe x reader#obx x reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe outer banks#obx#rafe cameron x reader#rafe fanfiction
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as the saying goes: with every high, comes a low
kenan yıldız x reader
A/N: writing this brought back both good memories and ptsd from the euros 🥲🥲 based on this request, thank you for requesting 🤍🤍 also this is so sappyyy, guess who’s in her feels? 😛
W/C: 1.090
ninety minutes of straight-up torture.
a small fifteen-minute break to calm your pounding heart down, before it starts heavily thumping against your rib cage again.
you wouldn’t be surprised if you dropped onto the floor due to the amount of times your heart rate had skyrocketed.
anxiety and anticipation.
the only words that could describe your mental state in the moment.
losing a match was painful, but even more painful after turkey had been doing so well in the tournament.
as the partner of a football player, you carried your own sadness, and your boyfriend’s sadness.
you bite your lip when the referee ends the match. enough to draw a small amount of blood. the metallic taste fills your mouth, and makes you feel even more horrible.
the chants of the turkey supporters had been non-stop since the start of the game. at first full of joy, then encouragement, then slowly trailing off to tears and disappointment.
even so, everyone had an incredible sense of pride in their hearts for their country. no matter the loss.
when you're given the go-ahead, all family members and friends of the turkey players make their way out of their seats.
you hurry as you go down, your heart aching as you imagine all of the disappointment and anger brewing in your lover’s heart.
when you finally reach him, kenan immediately pulls you into a private room. without a word, his arms wrap around your back, and he buries his handsome face in the crook of your neck.
feeling his breath hit your skin, you sigh shakily. not caring about his sweaty hair and body, you reach up to run your hand down his back.
"are you okay?"
of course, he wasn't, but you could barely register how fast the team had lost control of the match. let alone form a coherent, comforting thought.
you rake your unoccupied hand through his hair, your heart beating in your ears as you try to find the words to comfort your boyfriend.
though, his lack of response told you enough.
after a long stretch of silence, you start spilling your thoughts. licking your dry lips before speaking.
"I'm so fucking proud of you, kenan.."
the words leave your mouth with deep emotion. followed by a tremble of your lip as you try to keep your tears at bay.
"whatever people say, whatever anyone says doesn't matter. you worked so fucking hard, you put your entire soul and body into it. that's what matters. you tried, and I know you did your best.."
you pause as a shaky sigh leaves kenan's mouth. his athletic body pressing into yours, the smell of sweat, notes of his musky cologne, and your perfume creating a familiar atmosphere.
your heart breaks when you hear a small sniffle. your eyes closing as you hold back your own tears.
"you can cry. it's okay, cry it out. I know it hurts, baby.." you whisper, finally feeling hot tears hit your own cheeks, as his transfer down your neck.
"I worked so hard. so many nights and days- and this is the performance I put on when my team, and my entire country is leaning on me!.."
"shh, don't blame yourself, honey. I know it will sound cliché, but you did your absolute best. you can’t do more than your best, baby..”
you pause to pat his back, tears messing up your makeup, and making your nose run.
"it was going so well, you guys created so many chances. it was just an unlucky second half.."
"to have something in the palm of my hand, and then to just lose it within twenty minutes- hurts so fucking bad.." his shoulders shake with the painful sobs. the emotion expressed by your boyfriend causing a soft whimper to leave your own mouth.
"never ever think that the entire thing was on you. It was destined to be like this. as humans, we will learn and grow, even if we don’t see immediate results.."
kenan moves his head to look at you, your heart practically cracking at the sadness on his face.
the hopeless look in his beautiful brown eyes, the irritation of his soft skin- and the fastened pace of his pulse.
"why are you crying?" he asks, and you can swear he starts crying harder after seeing the tears on your face.
"because, you're hurting. don't ever want you to feel bad or upset.." your voice cracks, and you tighten your grip on the fabric of his training jacket.
"fuck. don't you ever cry over me, baby.." kenan rasps, cupping your cheek with his roughened palm. both your eyes visibly red and irritated from the salty tears.
"how can I not?" you question, before pulling his head into your neck again. cradling the back of his head, as you hug each other as tightly as humanly possible.
"i love you so much. your joy is mine. so how can your hurt not be mine?" you ask, raking your fingers through his hair.
"i love you too. so bad it kills me to see you cry over me.." he chokes out, his fingers curling around your body, holding you incredibly close against his warm skin.
you hold each other for a couple of minutes, the only sound in the room being the cold air conditioning, and the sound of your combined sobs.
you can hear kenan take a deep, stuttering breath, before he speaks.
"we’re such crybabies.."
his voice is raw, but thick with fondness and warmth..
your lover always knew how to lighten up the mood, while others could never do so in similar situations.
you chuckle a little through tears, pulling back to look at him. you raise your hand to wipe the tears on kenan's cheeks, his bloodshot eyes on yours.
pushing back his hair, you expose his forehead, wiping away the rest of the moisture with your sleeve.
"your eyes are all red.." you comment, knowing you probably looked the exact same.
"what do you need when we get back to the hotel? a bath? a cuddle? good food?" you inquire, wanting to provide him the best comfort you could offer.
you watch him take a breath before he speaks, and he whips out a tissue from his pocket, before dabbing at the tears on your face.
he was so gentle and thoughtful, like always.
"I just need you. I just need my sweet baby next to me, and everything will be alright.."
#kenan yildiz x reader#kenan yildiz imagines#kenan yildiz#kenan yıldız#Kenan#juventus#juve#football blurb#footballer x reader#football imagines#football fanfic#football imagine#football#euros 2024#turkiye nt
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