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sceletaflores · 2 months ago

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he’s a good time, cowboy casanova!

pair: cowboy!logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 9.4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, alternate universe/no powers, swearing, drinking, smoking, probably some inaccuracies about ranch life idk i haven't been around a horse in like two years, logan working a lasso yes god, age gap (early 40s/mid 20s), THE COWBOY HAT RULE RAAAHHH, nasty dirty talk, i was so horny for kissing when i was writing this jesus, p in v, unprotected sex (do as sex ed tells you, not as i write), semi-public sex, riding, creampie, some emotional constipation cause it’s me, porn with a little too much plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: another purely self indulgent work...i just fucking love cowboys what can i say. it's practically ingrained in me by this point. logan would never dance but like who cares he's my barbie i can make him do whatever i want! kisses <3

dividers by angel @saradika-graphics!

a cowboy and the governor’s daughter walk into a barn...

The ranch is alive like you've never seen before, almost every acre lit up in celebration of your father's recent inauguration.

Twinkling lights strung around the barn's ceiling cast a warm orange glow all around you, flickering like fireflies on a summer night.

People are everywhere—laughing, mingling, drinking. Their faces both familiar and new, dressed in everything from head-to-toe denim to their Sunday best.

The lively music from the band floats through the space, couples on the makeshift dance floor twirling to the familiar twang of an acoustic guitar.

You take it all in from your spot against the wall, drink in hand as your eyes scan the room.

You did your share of mingling earlier in the evening, greeting the higher-up’s in your city with hugs and thanks.

You posed for pictures that’ll be splashed across the front pages of Monday’s paper, listened to your father’s speech as you stood by his side with a smile.

This is the first moment you've gotten to yourself since the ball started, one you've spent in content silence while enjoying the perks of an open bar.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing all by your lonesome?"

The honeyed rasp of a voice filtering in from your left paired with the jingling sound of spurs against the soft ground grabs your attention.

At first, you turn ready to greet a stray boutique or feedstore owner you may have missed earlier. You’re pleasantly surprised to see Marie sauntering towards you instead, a bright grin on her face that makes you smile right back.

Marie was one of the first people you met after moving to Texas at the beginning of your father's campaign, and you've only gotten closer since she started as a ranch hand down at Blackbird.

Her unruly red curls spill out from under her Stetson, the bouncy strands swinging in time with the white fringe of her show-shirt as she opens her arms.

"Thought you might have gotten lost in all the fancy folk," she teases, nearly crushing you with the strength of her hug.

You laugh as you hug her back, the warmth of her embrace a welcome interruption to your moment of peace and quiet. Her scent wraps around you, the familiar dust and lavender that's seeped into her clothes.

"Definitely not lost," you say, stepping back to meet her gaze. "Just taking it all in."

Marie smirks, leaning a shoulder against the wall beside you, crossing her arms as she watches the crowd.

"Sure is a good night for it," she says, glancing over at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Lookin' for anyone in particular? A nice night cap?"

You snort, taking another sip of your drink. Marie has always been more invested in your love life than you, hand picking guys from around town she deems worthy enough of your attention.

You know she means well, and it's almost as endearing as it is pesky, so you let her play matchmaker from time to time.

“I don’t need a night cap,” you laugh, shaking your head sluggishly. "I’m perfectly fine spending tonight alone."

Before Marie can respond, a stir from outside filters in. Loud cheers and hollers, hooves beating against dirt, the distinct whistle of a lasso slicing through the air.

Marie practically squeals, excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet as she peers through the barn doors. “It’s starting!”

You don’t have time to ask what ‘it’ is before she’s snatching up your wrist and turning to haul you outside.

"Marie! Where the hell are we going?" You practically trip over your own feet trying to keep up with her, your drink splashing up against the rim of your glass precariously.

Marie laughs as she pulls you out into the cool evening air, her boots crunching on the gravel as she drags you toward the commotion. “You’ll see!”

You weave through the crowd forming around the training ring, Marie’s grip still tight around your wrist as she pushes toward the front until you’re right up against the railing.

You peer over it, eyes adjusting to the floodlights surrounding the ring, illuminating the clouds of dust kicked up by the different ranch hands perched on horses.

A few riders take turns showing off their skills, each of them in the same show-shirt as Marie, expertly swinging lassos and wrangling cattle with practiced ease.

The energy is contagious, and you find yourself smiling, soaking in the excitement pulsing through the crowd.

Marie leans closer, her voice low and laced with something knowing. “Just wait for it, honey. It’s about to get good.”

You give her a puzzled look, but she’s already grinning ear to ear, her attention fully focused on a new rider that chargers into the ring.

You follow her gaze, and your breath catches in your throat.

He rides in like he owns the place, his coal black horse cutting through the fog of dirt like a shadow, sleek and powerful beneath him.

A black Stetson sits low over his face, casting shadows that only add to the rugged allure of his jawline, a jawline that could cut glass.

As he leans forward to grab the rope tossed at him by one of the other riders, his muscles flex, a kind of strength that isn’t there for show, but for real work.

His show-shirt is stretched over the width of his chest, over broad shoulders that look like they were carved from stone, made for lifting hay bales and hundred pound feed bags.

The sleeves rolled up to expose forearms dusted with dark hair and more than a few scars. His gloved hands rest on the reins with an ease that tells you he’s more than familiar on a saddle.

He’s not the flashiest rider, but there’s something commanding in his presence as he races his horse towards the steer, lasso circling high above his head.

He doesn’t even look like he’s trying to put on a show—he is the show.

Marie’s grip on your wrist tightens, and she leans in again, her voice loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

“That’s Logan,” she says, practically glowing with pride. ”He’s the foreman down at Blackbird, might just be the best damn cowboy in the whole state.”

You blink, hardly able to tear your gaze away from Logan, who’s riding like he’s part of the horse, one seamless, commanding figure cutting through the chaos in the ring.

His focus is sharp, and as his lasso snaps through the air, catching the steers back leg in a clean loop, the crowd erupts in applause.

A satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, a glimmer of amusement flashing beneath the shadow of his hat.

Marie nudges you, her grin widening as she catches the look on your face. “Told you he was worth watching,” she teases, winking. “And he’s got a bit of a reputation for bein’ hard to impress—one of those strong, silent types, y’know?”

You roll your eyes, but your heart beats a little faster as Logan turns his horse, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before it lands on you.

Your cheeks warm under his stare, trying to subtly make out the different features of his face from this far. His head tilts just slightly, as if he’s sizing you up from across the ring.

For a second, it feels like the two of you are the only ones there. The cheers from the audience dulling into white noise all around you, everything in your peripheral blurring together—everything but him.

“He’s good…” Your voice has gone light, airy as you watch Logan turn his horse back to lead the steer into the ring's stall with all the others.

Marie's grin only widens as she leans against the post, clever eyes trained on the side of your face. "You still 'perfectly find spendin' the night alone'?"

You don't respond, too busy watching the strong muscle of Logan's back ripple under his shirt as he rides out of the ring—to your complete dismay—almost as fast as he rode in.

You're only snapped out of your trance when you can't make out his silhouette any longer. The crowd around you dissipates, filtering back into the barn while you're stuck to the fence straining your eyes for broad shoulders and a black cowboy hat.

“Show’s over, sugar.” Marie says with a snort, gently tugging you away from the post. “Come on, let’s get you another drink.”

You lost your company ten minutes ago, but you knew you didn’t stand a chance when Remy found the two of you huddled at the bar.

Sheepishly coming up to Marie with his hat in his hand, pressing it to his chest as he asked her for a dance.

You waved them off with a smile, assuring Marie you'd be fine on your own for a couple songs.

It gave you a chance to step out for some fresh air, to lean against the side of the barn and sneak a cigarette while your father was busy dancing with the town's best real estate agent money can buy.

You take a slow drag, eyes peering up at the stars so you can trace the constellations. You think that this might just be your favorite part of the move.

Nevada has never been known for its clear skies, you can count the times you’d been able to see the stars on one hand.

You still remember the first night after you settled into your new house, the stress of the move and your fathers inauguration weighed on you enough that sleep was hard to come by.

You finally crept out of bed around three, climbing over your balcony to perch yourself on the roof, carton of cigarettes and a lighter shoved in the waistband of your shorts.

The first time you looked out over the horizon was like stepping into a whole new world.

The stars had never felt so close, hung through the air like diamonds. So bright against the vast nothingness that stretched out beyond the too-big ranch house on the too-many acres the state appointed you and your father.

It was like you could almost reach out and touch them, pluck them from the sky like fruit off a tree.

You’d been used to the city lights, the constant hum of noise that swallowed up the stars, but here? It was different.

The air smelled of dust and rainwater, and the silence was louder than anything you’d ever known.

You remember the deep, quiet hum of the night, almost like it was waiting for you to catch up, to adjust to the new rhythm of the world you were suddenly a part of.

It was a moment of peace, a brief stillness from the mess crowding your head, and you found comfort in that isolation.

You take another long drag, letting the smoke curl around your fingers, the orange embers glowing bright against the darkness.

As the faint scent of tobacco mixes with the cool air, you find that same sense of peace returning, the same stillness settling over your chest.

You tilt your head back to rest on the barn, eyes fluttering shut as you let the crisp breeze lull you into its serenity.

"Those'll kill you, y'know."

A voice comes from just over your shoulder, warm and low. A smooth drawl ringing out from the shadows.

You slip your eyes open, expecting to see one of the older ranch hands or maybe even a city official looking to lecture the governor's kid.

It takes you a second, but the black Stetson and squared shoulders register quickly enough—Logan.

You nearly swallow your tongue, eyes widening as you take in the way he leans against the barn a few feet away from you. You don’t know how long he’s been standing there, watching you.

The moonlight dances across his face, highlighting the rough line of his jaw and the confident tilt of his smirk.

“I didn’t think cowboys were one’s for giving lectures.” You’re shocked at the stillness of your voice, the beat of your heart picking up the tiniest bit.

Logan’s smirk only widens as he pushes off the wall, gravel crunching under his boots as he makes his way over to you, slow and deliberate. He’s still dressed in the same outfit from before, a lasso still coiled in one hand.

He comes to a stop next to you, leaning his shoulder just inches from yours. "Not usually. But when I see a pretty girl puffin' away on somethin' that's bound to ruin her, I make an exception."

You smirk, lifting the cigarette to your lips again just to make a point, even as your pulse jumps a little under his gaze. "Guess we all have our vices.” You say, blowing out the smoke slowly, watching the way his gaze tracks its lazy drift.

Logan’s eyes trail back to yours, and you can see the color of them now that he’s closer. A mix of different greens and browns fading together, like a forest in the thick of summer.

The lightest dusting of freckles decorate the bridge of his nose, trailing along his cheeks until they disappear under his beard, a product of being out in the sun so often.

You’re struck by how pretty he is, all long lashes and red lips.

Well, pretty for a cowboy anyway.

“You plan on sharin’?”

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles from your chest, brow raising skeptically. “That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

Logan just shrugs, a lazy half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I reckon’ it’s rude to let a lady smoke alone.”

You huff lightly, reaching into the pocket of your dress. You flick the top of your Marlboros open, slipping a cigarette out and offering it to Logan silently.

He takes it, his fingers brushing against yours enough to send a spark through you. It travels up your arm and all around your shoulders to seep down through your entire body, resting in your stomach to swirl through the heat simmering there.

“Got a light?” He asks, words muffled around the filter.

You roll your eyes, but reach back into your pocket regardless. Logan leans closer as you flip your zippo open, taking his hat off to cover the side of his face, blocking the flame from the lazy breeze.

Your heart stutters in your chest as he nears closer. You didn’t expect he’d want you to light it for him. You will your hand to steady as you raise the flame to the tip, holding it close enough that the small light illuminates his face.

The intoxicating mix of leather and musk invades your senses. You fight the urge to lean into it entirely, to close the gap.

When the flame flickers and catches the end of his cigarette, Logan pulls back, taking a languid drag, the embers glowing between his lips.

His eyes don't leave yours as he exhales deeply, the smoke curling from his lips in slow tendrils. You can’t tell if it’s the nicotine or the way he’s looking at you that’s making your head spin.

You break eye contact, feeling the flush creeping up your neck, and lean back against the barn to cool yourself off. Logan leans beside you, a comfortable silence settling over the two of you, just the soft crackling of cigarettes and distant music filling the space between.

Logan puts his hat back on, his voice breaking through the quiet as he does. “You’re Governor Wright’s daughter, ain't you?”

You nod slowly, exhaling another long plume of smoke. It’s still weird hearing it out loud. “I am.”

Logan hums, turning his head to face you again. The silver moonlight catching the glint in his eye.

“Saw your picture in the paper.” His gaze rakes from the top of your head, all the way down to the tips of your boots. “Looked real nice.”

The air feels heavier as Logan’s eyes travel over you, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle, before meeting your gaze again. His eyes hold a hint of amusement, the green of them darker than before. The heat swims through you faster, stronger.

“Congratulations.” He adds, almost like an afterthought. A quick pivot to take some attention away from how his eyes swept over your body so shamelessly.

You snort before you can stop yourself. If you had a dollar for every time you’ve heard that over the past few weeks. “Yeah,” you say, kicking at some rocks near your feet. “Thank you.”

You can see the way Logan’s brow raises out of the corner of your eye, his gaze burning a hole along your profile.

“Don’t sound too excited,” he comments, exhaling lazily. “That why you’re hidin’ out here?”

You shrug, leaning back against the barn and tapping your cigarette to shake off some ash. “Maybe I just like the quiet,” you say. “Or maybe I’m avoiding another round of ‘how proud are you of your daddy’ small talk.”

Logan stays quiet, and you feel the overwhelming need to explain yourself. A need to fill the silence, like he’s some kind of magnet that soothes the truth from people.

You sigh, turning your eyes to the dark sky again. “I’m happy for my dad, of course I am but…” You trail off, searching for the right words. “It’s just a lot.”

He chuckles lightly, a low rumble that feels more real than the sounds of laughter from inside the barn. “Hell, I don’t blame you,” he says, his eyes flicking up to the stars too. “Nothin’ wrong with takin' a breather now and then.”

You both stand there in comfortable silence, the night stretching out around you, as vast and open as the sky above. You let yourself study Logan out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way he seems at ease, like he’s as much a part of this land as the grass and stars.

Finally, he looks over, and you feel that sharp gaze settle on you again. “You keep starin’ like that,” he says, a teasing note creeping into his voice, “I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re more interested in somethin' other than the stars.”

Your mouth drops open slightly, heat rushing to your ears as you search for something to say.

Logan’s smirk widens as he catches the way your breath stutters, and for a moment, the silence is thick, the air between you charged.

You force a laugh, trying to play it off, but it’s weak, and you can feel the heat creeping up your neck again. "I—"

Back inside the barn, the band switches songs, saving you from your embarrassment. A softer melody floats through the air, slow and sweet as molasses. It’s muffled enough that it sounds almost hazy, like a soundtrack to the most wonderful dreams.

Logan turns to watch the shadows move in the light spilling through the open doors. Couples pairing off, taking to the dancefloor. All warm embraces and slow moving circles, swaying to the gentle beat.

He turns back to you, running his thumb over the coarse lasso in his hand. “Care for a dance?”

You raise your brow, skepticism written all over your face. “I don’t really do that.”

Logan doesn’t back down, tilting his head with an easy grin. “Seems like a waste not dancin’ in a dress like that.”

You can’t fight the smile that tugs your lips up, shaking your head with a quiet laugh as you peer down at the nice floral fabric of your sundress. The wind makes it swish along your sides, the flowy fabric swaying over the knee of your boots.

“Maybe another time, Logan.” You try to ignore how good his name feels rolling off your tongue.

He takes one last drag off his cigarette before he’s stubbing it out on the worn leather of his belt and slipping the butt in his jean pocket. It’s both the strangest and most endearing thing you’ve ever seen—a cowboy that refuses to litter.

“Well I’m gonna have to insist.” He crosses his arms over his chest, straining the fabric around his biceps. There’s a challenge in his eyes now, a dare.

“Oh, you’re insisting, are you?” You repeat doubtfully, lolling your head to the side languidly, your hair flowing with it. ”And how are you gonna do that?”

Logan doesn’t answer with words, just raises his arm to start twirling his lasso through the air with a smug grin. He circles once, twice, three times before a deft flick of his wrist sends the rope across the way to you.

It slips over your shoulders, sliding down to catch on the curve of your hips.

You raise a brow, reluctant smile still playing on your lips. “Do you carry this thing with you everywhere you go?”

Logan cocks a brow, tugging on his end of the rope so it tightens around you, forcing you a step closer.

You stumble forward with a soft laugh, eyes darting up to meet Logan's. The lasso feels snug, but not tight enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he’s in control, and the thought sends a spark straight down to your core.

“You sure you don’t dance?” He tugs you a few steps closer, his smirk only deepening as he effortlessly reels you in.

You bite your lip to stifle a smile, shaking your head. “You sure are persistent, I’ll give you that.”

Logan doesn’t wait for you to say anything else, instead taking that final step forward. His grip tightens slightly on the lasso, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space between you.

You can feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of your dress, his chest rising and falling with each slow, deliberate breath.

“Some would say it’s my best quality,” he teases quietly, voice dropping to something lower, like gravel and velvet. “Now, you gonna fight me the whole way through, or are we gonna dance?”

You glance up at him, your chest fluttering in spite of yourself. A thousand lame excuses run through your mind, but all you can manage is a breathless laugh, the sound caught somewhere between amusement and nerves.

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice,” you murmur, hands tentatively coming to rest on his shoulders. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Logan’s smile softens, his hand slinking around your hips to loosen the lasso, letting it slip down your legs so you can step out of it.

Big hands settle on your waist, brushing the soft fabric of your dress, sending a fresh wave of warmth through you. His touch is firm and gentle all at once, guiding you effortlessly into an easy sway.

The moment you fall into the rhythm of the music, your body moves naturally against Logan’s, and you can feel the charge between you intensify with each step.

His boots scrape against the dirt as he leads you in a slow, almost languid circle. Your feet match his without thinking, the sound of your boots in sync with the soft country tune playing from the barn.

“See? Not so bad, huh?” His voice is low, a soft whisper against the backdrop of the music.

You nod slowly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. The rough scrape of his jeans against your bare legs sends a delicious shiver skittering up your spine.

“Not so bad,” you agree, your voice quieter now, the playful edge slipping away as something deeper stirs between you.

You tilt your head up, breath catching in your chest when you find him already looking down at you. His lips quirk up slightly, but there’s a new intensity there now, something sharper than the teasing glimmer from before.

"Logan," you murmur, but your voice is barely a whisper, lost to the night air.

His free hand slides up the length of your spine, trailing along your neck until he’s cupping the side of your face. His thumb grazes your cheekbone with a gentleness you never thought men like him to be capable of.

The space between you shrinks even more as Logan dips his head, his nose brushing against yours in a featherlight touch that sends a shiver down your spine

“You gonna tell me to stop?” He murmurs, his lips so close now you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin.

Your throat works to form words, but they’re gone, stolen by the way his hands slide a fraction lower on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Your breath hitches again, and without thinking, you close the space, lips pressing against his, soft at first, unsure. Logan deepens it almost immediately, tugging you impossibly closer.

It’s tender–achingly so. Logan’s lips are surprisingly soft, he tastes like top-shelf whiskey and your Marlboro Golds. They mold to yours with a gentle pressure, warm and inviting. His hand on your face tilts your head slightly, angling you just right as his thumb continues to trace soft circles over your cheek.

The warmth of it spreads through you, settling low in your stomach, and you think you could stay like this the whole night, wrapped in the quiet safety of him.

All too soon, Logan’s pulling away. You whine pathetically, lips chasing his own. You’d be embarrassed if it wasn't for the pure need coursing through you.

“You were right,” he mutters lowly, running his thumb along the slick expanse of your bottom lip. “This is a hell of a lot better than dancin’.”

“Shut up.” You drag him back down by the fistfuls of his shirt, your own lips hungrily seeking out his again.

This kiss is different, something filthier, something messier. It’s like a dam breaking to let a rush of water break free, all the tension unraveling itself as you meet again.

The gentle tilt of Logan’s head changes, and when his teeth catch your bottom lip with just enough pressure, your knees feel dangerously close to buckling.

His hand slides down from your cheek, skimming your jawline before tangling into the hair at the nape of your neck. His tongue sweeps past your lips, and the taste of whiskey and smoke is heady, stronger, dizzying.

Logan’s mouth moves against yours with a confidence that makes your head spin, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

You let out a soft, involuntary sound, and that only spurs him on, the hand in your hair tightening as he presses you back against the rough wood of the barn.

It digs into your body harshly, scratching at the bare skin of your shoulders and backs of your thighs. You hardly care.

Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, knocking his hat off so you can tug him closer as your tongues slide together lewdly. Logan groans into your mouth at the sting of his scalp, you can feel the rumble of it in your bones.

His beard scratches against your chin and cheeks so deliciously that you can’t help but imagine where else it might rub your skin red and raw. The thought alone has a shudder running through you, your hips arching off the barn unconsciously.

The subtle grind when your hips slot together is enough to have Logan’s grip tightening around your hips. His fingers flexing where they’re still tangled in your hair. You moan softly at the hard length tenting his jeans, pressing insistently against your lower stomach, big even trapped in the rough denim.

Your body reacts to the thick plane of heat almost viscerally, your pussy aching with the need to be filled.

When you finally break apart, it’s only because neither of you can breathe.

Logan pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his forehead resting against yours, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths that match your own. His pupils are blown wide, dark and intense. You dazedly think back to the sleek coat of his horse, black as ink and shining under the rings lights.

His lips are an angry red and slightly swollen, glistening in the pale moonlight, and the sight of him—disheveled and wanting—sends another wave of heat blooming through your core to leak wet and sticky in your panties.

“Your daddy would shoot me between the eyes if he caught us like this, darlin’.”

You hide your pleased smile in the crook of his neck, trailing soft kisses from his jaw to his ear. “Then we should find somewhere a little more private, shouldn’t we?”

Logan groans, hands bunching the fabric of your dress in tight fists as your lips brush against the lobe of his ear with every word, teasing. “I reckon’ we should.”

You step back, fingers trailing down to toy with the shiny belt buckle sitting pretty on his waist. “Lead the way.”

Logan smirks, tongue swiping along his bottom lip. “Yes ma’am.”

He bends to grab his hat from where it lays at his feet, pushing his hair away from his eyes before dropping it back on his head. His hand finds the small of your back, turning to lead you away from the barn.

You try not to notice how well it fits.

Turns out, ‘somewhere a little more private’ is just another barn. This one filled with stray mountains of hay and empty horse stalls instead of the watchful eyes of partygoers.

You can’t bring yourself to care, not when Logan’s got you pressed to the closed door, his hands roaming down your body like he’s memorizing every curve, every dip.

“Christ, you’re somethin’ else,” Logan mutters, his voice thick with want as his lips ghost along the side of your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that make your knees shake.

His breath is hot against your ear when he adds, “Bet you’re soaked for me already, aren’t you, darlin’?”

The rough pads of his fingers drag along your bare thighs as he hikes your dress higher, the fabric bunching at your waist. The cool air kisses your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat between your legs as his palms knead the soft flesh.

You bite your lip to stifle the embarrassing moan that threatens to escape, but he catches the sound anyway, pressing a cocky grin to the side of your cheek.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now.” His hand slides between your thighs, calloused fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties.

The low groan that escapes him when he feels how wet you are is pure sin, vibrating against your neck as his fingers trace over the damp cotton. “Fuck, barely touched you and you’re already drippin’ for me.”

“Logan—” You start, but your words dissolve into a sharp gasp as he hooks a finger beneath the fabric, pulling it to the side.

The first drag of his finger through your slick folds has your head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. A high moan falls from your parted lips, embarrassing and needy as your thighs clench around his wrist.

Logan just hums, pressing a kiss to the corner of your slack mouth. “Is she hurtin’ real bad, baby?” he asks softly, his thumb pressed over your pulsing clit. “Just gotta give you some sweet kisses and she gets all worked up, huh?”

Your only response is a breathless whimper, your fingers clutching at his shoulders for stability as he teases you with slow, torturous circles around your clit.

His thick pointer finger slides through the slick seam of your pussy, catching on your dripping entrance before it’s sinking to the knuckle in one slow thrust.

You arch into him, your hips rocking instinctively to take him deeper, desperate for more. His other hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing along your cheek as his gaze locks onto yours.

The intensity in his eyes makes your stomach flip, your breath hitching as he watches every little expression cross your face.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he coaxes, sliding his finger in and out at a maddeningly slow pace. “Look at you, so fuckin’ beautiful. Takin’ my fingers so good, baby.”

“Please,” you gasp, the need in your voice making his smirk widen.

“Please what?” he teases, curling his finger inside you and grinning when you nearly sob at the sensation. “Gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

You whimper, thighs trembling as you manage to stutter out, “Kiss…kiss me.”

Logan groans, brows twitching up like that wasn’t what he was expecting to fall from your slick, kiss bitten lips. He doesn’t waste a second, leaning in to capture your mouth with his in a kiss that’s equal parts desperate and bruising.

His lips part against yours, tongue sliding in to meet yours, hot and eager, as he sinks a second finger inside your clenching hole.

The kiss deepens, becoming a rhythm of its own, each stroke of his tongue matching the languid thrust of his fingers.

Logan's lips move hungrily against yours, his pace never faltering even as his fingers curl inside you, searching, teasing, until—there.

The moment he brushes against that spot, your back arches off the barn wall, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat. He grins against your lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to murmur, “There she is.”

The slick sound of his fingers pumping into you fills the quiet barn, mingling with your soft, breathy whimpers. His thumb circles your clit with devastating precision, each pass of his fingers inside you coaxing your body closer to the edge.

“You’re squeezin’ me so tight, honey,” he groans, his voice rough and dripping with praise. “Can feel how close you are. Bet you’re gonna fall apart for me so pretty, aren’t ya?”

You shake your head, your breath coming in soft pants. “No.” Your hand snakes down to his wrist, halting his movements. “Wanna finish with you inside me.”

Logan stills, his breath catching as your words hang heavy in the air. His fingers stay buried inside you, the slight curl of them making your thighs quake as his eyes search yours.

The fire there burns hotter now, feral and barely restrained.

“Yeah?” The raw hunger in his voice makes your pulse spike. “You want me inside you, huh? Wanna feel me stretch you open, baby?”

You nod eagerly, your chest heaving as his words fan the flames of your desire.

“Alright,” he mutters darkly, voice gone low and smoky. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Logan slips his fingers from the warm grip of your pussy, the sudden emptiness stealing all the air from your lungs. You miss the stretch almost immediately, clenching around nothing with a soft moan.

He lifts his hand between you, his fingers glistening with your wetness in the dim light. “Look at that,” he says softly, almost in awe, before slipping his fingers into his mouth and groaning at the taste.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your cheeks burning at the sight.

Logan catches your gaze, a wicked smirk spreading across his face as he leans in close. “C’mon,” he whispers softly against the skin of your neck, hands slipping around the backs of your thighs and squeezing gently. “Up.”

You hitch your legs up around his waist, a soft breath escaping you at the way he lifts you with ease, like you weigh nothing.

You can’t help but run your hands over the thick muscle of his biceps as he walks you further into the barn, lips trailing wet kisses along where his shirt’s top button popped open, exposing more of his tan skin to your greedy eyes.

Logan falls back against a knocked over bale of hay, you feel the hot length of his hard cock grinding over the slick fabric of your panties as he positions you over his lap.

You waste no time, stray pieces of hay digging into your knees as your trembling hands reach for his buckle. Your fingers brush over the cool metal as you fumble sliding the worn leather through his belt loops.

Logan just watches you, leaning back on his forearms with a smirk—cool as ever.

Once his belt is undone and his zipper dragged down, you shove at his jeans, watching with a mix of anticipation and desire as his cock springs free, thick and heavy and already leaking for you.

You’ve heard the expression ‘hung like a horse’ countless times. You always thought it was a gross exaggeration, until now.

Logan’s hand glides down his stomach to start stroking himself lazily, his eyes never leaving yours. “Been hard since the second I laid eyes on you tonight. Could barely keep my hands to myself, watchin’ you all dolled up like that. Drove me fuckin’ crazy.”

Your mouth waters with the need to taste, eyes tracking the thick line of pre-come leaking from his flushed tip.

The phantom ache in your jaw almost has you dropping to your stomach right there, but you know that your time here is limited, and you need Logan inside of you more than anything.

You lean back, lifting your legs so you can shimmy your soaked panties down and off, tossing them behind you haphazardly the same way you tossed his belt.

His eyes are locked onto yours as you crawl back towards him, situating yourself over his lap all over again. You take a steadying breath as you reach for his cock, nearly moaning at the heft of it in your hand, at the near scalding touch of his silky skin against your palm.

“Hang on, baby.” Logan’s hands fall to your hips, stopping you just as the tip of his cock brushes against your dripping pussy. “You wanna ride, you gotta look the part.”

He drags his hands lower, calloused palms rough against the soft skin of your thighs. It’s enough to make you shiver, hips twitching down with the desperate need to be filled.

“Got the boots,” he murmurs idly, thumbs sliding along the back of your thighs. “Just need the hat.”

Logan reaches up to grab his hat by the crown, pulling it off his head to drop it on yours.

You left out a soft breath, feeling the worn felt settle on the top of your head, still warm from his own.

It’s too big, slipping down to shadow your eyes. Logan’s gaze darkens as he adjusts it, tipping it back just enough to frame your face.

“Much better,” he says, flicking the brim once before his hands fall back to your hips. “Alright cowgirl, give it to me good.”

The words shoot straight to your core, igniting something wild and reckless inside you.

You bite your lip, spurred on by the way his hands knead the meat of your hips. Not forcing or pushing, just two steady weights as you slowly start to sink down.

It's nearly torturous, but in the best way possible. The stretch of each inch a pleasant burn as your hips slot against his after what feels like an eternity.

“Fuck.” Logan grits out, his hands tightening on your hips as you settle, giving yourself a moment to adjust to the overwhelming fullness.

Your body trembles, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you slowly begin to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles.

Logan’s eyes track every movement, darkened with need, a quiet groan slipping from him as his hands slide lower, gripping your ass, urging you to pick up the pace.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “Takin’ it all so good.”

His praise only encourages you, and you lift yourself up before sinking back down, your hands gripping the scratchy fabric of his shirt for leverage.

The feeling of him filling you up, stretching you with every downward movement, makes your head swim, the pressure building in your core.

The barn is filled with the sounds of skin slapping together lewdly, with the wet gush of your pussy leaking around the base of his cock messily. It has your ears burning, shame and arousal a heady mix in your lower belly.

Logan’s hips start to rise from the barn floor, snapping up to meet yours with every bounce. You can feel him deeper like this, brushing against places that make your legs shake with pleasure.

You’re dangerously close to the edge already, a mess from all the teasing earlier. But from the way Logan’s muscles flex and tense beneath you, you can tell he is too.

“Goddamn,” he growls, his hands moving to grip your thighs, helping you bounce on top of him impossibly faster. “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby, so fucking perfect. Don’t stop.”

His words make your head spin, the filthy praise sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. You can’t hold back the moans spilling from your lips, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

Your hands scramble for the front of his shirt, tugging and pulling until it’s loose enough to show off the toned muscle of his chest.

You rake your nails through the dark hair decorating his skin, hardly paying any attention to the brand burned into the skin across his left pec.

"Tell me how it feels," he groans, his voice dark and commanding. "Tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel."

"So good," you manage to gasp, your voice breaking as he grinds against that perfect spot inside you. "Logan, I—"

“You’re close,” he rasps, his grip on your hip tightening as he drives into you harder. “I can feel you, baby. So fuckin’ close. Gonna come for me, aren’t ya? Gonna milk my cock like a good girl?”

You’re too far gone to answer, your body trembling as the coil in your stomach clenches, tighter and tighter. Your head lolls back to the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut as you near the edge.

"C’mon honey," Logan groans, his thumb finding your clit again, circling it in time with his thrusts. “Come for me, let it all fuckin’ out.”

You're helpless to deny him, the thick stretch of his cock paired with the gentle pressure of his thumb on your clit tightening your body like a bowstring threatening to snap.

“Logan—oh God—Logan!” Your orgasm crashes over you, leaving you trembling and gasping as your walls shake around him.

Logan’s hips stutter, his rhythm faltering as he groans low in his throat. “Goddamn,” he growls, his voice wrecked. “So fuckin’ perfect, squeezin’ me so tight—fuck—”

With a few more rough thrusts, he buries himself as deep as he can go, his body going rigid against yours as he finds his own release, groaning your name like it’s the only word he knows.

You slump onto him gracelessly, your body spent and trembling as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His cock jumps and pulses inside you, sending little aftershocks through your sensitive core as you feel the slick spray of his come painting your walls.

The rough fabric of his shirt feels oddly comforting on the overheated skin of your cheek as you rest your head on his chest, trying to catch your breath.

The brand catches your eye again, more pronounced now that the wiry hair dusted along his chest lays flush, slick with a thin sheen of sweat.

You raise your hand, gently tracing over the raised skin, feeling the rough texture under your fingertips. A curved ‘X’ scarred right over his heart.

The same ‘X’ that was embroidered on the front of Marie’s shirt, that hangs above the doors of the very barn you lay in, that’s scattered all throughout the property.

You read once that not all cowboys choose the brand, only the most loyal to the ranch. A kind of fierce loyalty that knows no bounds, that has no limits—it may be the only loyalty most will ever know.

You think back to your grandmother sitting you down at her weathered kitchen table a few days before your father and you made the move. The stern talking to she gave you felt silly at the time, useless information that you’d never actually need.

Now that you're here, her words ring in your ears for the first time in months, blaring and unavoidable.

“Don’t go and get mixed up in any cowboy business, honey. They’ll never love you more than the life, you’ll always be in the rearview mirror.”

Logan takes your hand in his, bringing it from his chest to his lips for a quick kiss before pointedly lowering it to his jean clad thigh. You can feel the way his fingers flex around your wrist, telling.

You swallow hard, the air in the barn suddenly feeling thick and heavy.

You're pushing yourself to your feet before you even realize what you're doing, ignoring the dull ache as his spent cock slips from inside you.

Logan hisses at the sensation, but he's pushing himself to his feet all the same. You're dying to sneak a peek at the look on his face, but you refuse to turn to him.

Maybe out of shame, maybe out of fear for what you might find if you do.

You straighten the wrinkled fabric of your dress, trying in vain to make yourself look as half as presentable as you did before walking into this barn.

The distant sound of a zipper being tugged up and the whisper of denim against denim catches your attention. Your eyes flick to the doors, your brain going a million miles a minute as you consider your options.

You could always beat him to it. You could walk out right now and pretend this never happened, avoid Blackbird like the plague for the rest of your fathers political career.

You doubt you'd ever see Logan outside these fences, it would be so easy to forget.

You shift on your feet, lip caught between your teeth. The sweet ache between your legs only matches the one in growing your chest, all those good feelings sour at the thought of walking away.

Against your better judgment, you turn back to him.

Logan’s already looking at you, hands busy with slipping his belt back into place.

You’ve always been good at reading people, at gauging what they might be feeling, but as your eyes scan along the flushed skin of his face, you find yourself unable to describe what you see swirling in his eyes.

“When will I see you again?” It’s weak, barely a whisper. You want to kick yourself for sounding so small, for getting so caught up in a man you hardly know.

Logan lets out a soft breath, hands coming to rest on his hips as he searches for something to say. “Whenever you have a reason to I reckon'.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you.

His answer is honest, unpolished—just like him. Something about it hits you deeper than you expect, a bittersweet sting that tightens your chest.

It’s not a perfect answer, but it’s something.

You try to stomp down all the feelings of hope filling your mind, pointedly ignoring the eruption of butterflies in your stomach.

“Well if that’s the case,” you say slowly, eyes never leaving Logan’s as you step closer. “Then I guess you better keep these.”

You reach around his waist to slip your panties in the back pocket of his jeans, patting the denim a few times for good measure before you step away again.

“Gives you a reason to come see me again, cowboy.”

Logan chuckles, soft and sweet as he shakes his head bemusedly. He raises his hand, gently taking his hat from your head to drop it back on his own.

“You’re really somethin’ else,” he mutters, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, the gesture tender in its unexpectedness.

You let out a shaky breath, heart pounding in your chest, and for a moment, everything feels raw.

Too raw. Like you're teetering on the edge of something dangerous and intoxicating, something you’re not sure you’re ready to handle.

You let your gaze drop to the floor, biting the inside of your cheek as you resist the urge to say something else, to push the moment further.

Instead, you turn, taking a slow step toward the barn doors.

Just before you reach them, you hear him again, his voice steady, but there’s something in it that makes you pause, hands lingering on the doorframe.

"Don’t be a stranger, alright?" he calls after you.

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes one last time. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: lowkey want to make this a series...like this was so fun to write and i have a few more ideas...let me know chickens <3

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engie-ivy · 1 year ago

Text

(Wolfstar Christmas Get-Together Coffeeshop AU Holiday Fluff!)

3304 words.

Sirius is the town’s most eligible bachelor, and while home for the Holidays, everyone seems eager to get him coupled up.

Euphemia wants to set him up with this sweet boy who frequents the library where she works.

Hope Lupin wants to set him up with her own son.

James wants to set him up with Lily's cute best friend.

Sirius, however, isn't interested in any of them, as he's already smitten with the adorable guy from the coffeeshop.

This Love We Got Is the Best Of All

Merry Christmas - Ed Sheeran & Elton John

“Oh my!” Hope Lupin claps her hands together. “What a handsome young man indeed!”

“I told you, didn't I?” Euphemia beams at her. “Hope, this is Sirius Black, James’ best friend, but more like my second son. Sirius, this is Hope Lupin, she has recently joined my book club and I invited her over for tea.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Lupin,” Sirius smiles.

“Oh, please.” Hope Lupin waves her hand. “Call me Hope.”

“How was it at the shelter?” Euphemia asks Sirius.

“Very good!” Sirius’ face lights up. “Mr Snuggles’ owner came to pick him up. You should've seen how happy he was that he had found his friend back, it was lovely, and Mr Snuggles wouldn't stop purring.”

“Sirius is studying in London to become a veterinarian,” Euphemia explains to Hope. “And while he's in town for the Holidays, he's volunteering at the animal shelter.”

Hope leans her elbows on the table and rests her head on her hands. “Handsome, smart and good for animals,” she sighs. “All the girls in town must be swooning over you!”

“They are,” Euphemia chuckles. “But he has already broken all of their hearts by having no interest in girls. Though he has never brought home a nice boyfriend for Christmas either,” she adds, with a stern look at Sirius.

“You know,” Hope says, directing a meaningful smile at Sirius. “My son is about your age and still single. And knowing my boy, he'd be quite charmed by you.”

“Now, wait a minute!” Euphemia protests. “If you want to set Sirius up, you'll have to get in line, my dear Hope. There's this really sweet boy who frequents the library, and I've been dying for Sirius to meet him! If only Sirius would let me introduce them…”

“You know I'm not-” Sirius begins, but he's interrupted by Hope.

“Well, surely my own son comes with a higher recommendation than some boy from your workplace,” Hope insists.

“But I know Sirius,” Euphemia counters. “And I know his type best.”

“Hello?” Sirius waves. “Does anyone care what I think?”

“My son is everyone's type,” Hope says firmly.

“And if my match turns out to not be such a match after all, then your son is more than welcome to shoot his shot…”

“Apparently not,” Sirius sighs, hoisting his bag higher up his shoulder and walking out of the kitchen.

“So now they're both trying to set you up?”

James chuckles.

“It's not funny!” Sirius covers his face with his hands as he drops down next to James on James’ bed. “Just mum was bad enough, but now her friends as well?”

James pops himself up on his elbows and waggles his eyebrows. “That's what you get for being the town’s most eligible bachelor.”

“Middle-aged women meddling in your love life?”

“You know,” James says. “If you want to be one step ahead of the nosy ladies, there's always Lily's friend.”

Sirius groans. “Not you too, Jamie!”

“Oh, come on!” James exclaims. “He's a really chill guy and hella cute! You'd totally like him.”

“Jaaaaames, you know that I'm not… open.”

“Right,” James says, rolling onto his back. “Coffeeshop guy,” he sighs exasperatedly.

“Coffeeshop guy,” Sirius sighs dreamily.

“He's so funny and kind, James. You won't believe.”

James snorts. “What I mostly don't believe, is that you still haven't asked him out yet!”

“I'm getting there, I'm getting there,” Sirius says. “But it's not like I haven't made any progress! Did I tell you that he knows my order now?”

James rolls his eyes. “You've been coming there twice a day ever since you got back in town. If he didn't know your order by now, I'd worry about his mental capacities.”

“You should've seen the way he smiled at me yesterday when he handed me my drink” Sirius says dreamily, as if he hasn't even heard James. “He's so pretty, oh my gosh.”

“I would've loved to see that,” James says dryly. “But someone-” He pokes Sirius in his side “-made me solemnly swear that I wouldn't go near that coffeeshop.”

Sirius huffs. “You admitted that you wanted to interrogate him about ‘his intentions’!”

James shrugs. “Only my brotherly duty.” Then he grins. “Lily's friend already passed my test, by the way.”

“Good for him,” Sirius says unimpressed. “I'm sure he'll make someone very happy someday.”

“Good morning, Remus!”

Remus looks up from where he had been rearranging the pastries in the display. “Oh! Sirius! Morning! A good one. To you as well, I mean.”

“Did you survive the morning coffee rush?” Sirius asks as he approaches the counter.

“Barely,” Remus chuckles. “Good thing it's still too early for most people to order one of our more complicated Holiday Specials.” He shudders. “I'm already dreading the afternoon rush. Luckily some customers are thoughtful enough to always come when the rush is over,” he adds, smiling at Sirius.

Sirius’ stomach flutters. Sure, it's super inconvenient to always start his volunteer work at the shelter a bit late and always stay a bit longer, but that smile makes it all worth it. “Well, gotta make sure I get enough one-on-one time with my favourite barista,” Sirius replies with a wink, and he's pretty proud of his smoothness.

Remus’ cheeks colour, and that could be a good sign, though there's always the chance he's just making Remus uncomfortable.

“You charmer,” Remus mumbles, awkwardly bumping Sirius’ shoulder. “Are you looking for a discount?”

Sirius places a hand over his heart and gasps in pretend-shock. “I would never use my charm for such purposes.”

Remus has given him a free cinnamon bun once, and while Sirius is not much of a sweet tooth, he savored every bite.

“No,” Remus chuckles. “Great power and great responsibility, I suppose.”

“Can imagine rush hour is the worst around Christmas,” Sirius says, looking over the menu. “Must be rather frustrating when you have ten people waiting in line, four coffees still running, and someone goes and orders…” He narrows his eyes at the sign above Remus. “A caramel cookie dough vanilla bean syrup latte moccachino with whipped cream and hazelnut topping.” He looks back at Remus. “What even is that?”

Remus leans over the counter and smirks. “Wanna try one?”

“Remus,” Sirius says emphatically. “The day I walk in here and order something like that, please take me to the ER, because I must've slipped and hit my head on the way here.”

“Booo, you're no fun,” Remus pouts rather adorably, as he pushes himself up from the counter. “Your regular it is.”

“Thank you,” Sirius says, pleased.

“You know,” Remus says, turning around to make Sirius’ double shot cappuccino. “You really gotta step out of your comfort zone every once in a while.”

“My coffee is my comfort,” Sirius replies. “So what would even be the use of my coffee moment if I'm using it to step out of my comfort zone?”

“A little adventure, maybe?”

“It's not that I'm not adventurous, it's just that I know what I like and what I don't like.” Sirius shrugs. “I'm actually plenty adventurous in other aspects of my life.”

“Are you now?” Remus asks, turning around to bring Sirius his cup.

“Oh yeah,” Sirius says. “I love going on spontaneous road trips on my motorcycle, for instance. Did I tell you that I drive a motorcycle?”

Remus’ eyes slightly widen. “That's hot.”

Sirius arches an eyebrow.

“Erm, the coffee,” Remus says, putting the cup down in front of Sirius. “Very hot, so, erm, be careful.”

“Thanks,” Sirius says, giving Remus an amused look. “After having ordered it about twenty times already, that hadn't occurred to me yet.”

Remus immediately hands Sirius his cappuccino as he walks in that afternoon. He's got cacao powder stains on his apron, whipped cream on his cheek, cookie crumble in his hair, and a bewildered look in his eyes, making him look like a very cute mess.

Sirius arches an eyebrow. “You're not gonna try to push one of your Holiday Specials on me?”

Remus shakes his head. “I feel like I've made enough moccaccinos, frappuccinos, chococcinos, hazelnuccinos, or whatever kind of ccinos for the rest of my life. If you ordered one, I might have actually refused.”

“Well, not to worry,” Sirius says, taking a sip from his drink. “And here I thought my impeccable argumentation had convinced you.”

“Well, the motorcycle was a strong argument,” Remus says, leaning over the counter, resting his head on his hand. “Guess there's a whole other side of you outside of this coffeeshop that I do not know yet,” he murmurs, looking at Sirius intently.

Sirius tries to school his expression into something more collected than how he feels on the inside, because yet? Does that mean Remus wants to get to know him while he's not just doing his job? And god, must he be looking at him like that?

“Well, yeah,” Sirius says, surprising himself with how normal his voice comes out. “I suppose there is more to me than double shot cappuccinos.”

Remus smirks. “Who would've thought?”

“Excuse me?”

Remus jumps, only now noticing the woman standing at the counter. He quickly rushes to her. “Hi, yes, I'm sorry, how can I help you?”

Sirius finishes his coffee and slips on his jacket, staring at Remus, who's still having a conversation with the woman about the difference between a latte and a flat white. He's trying to work up enough courage.

“You!” Remus suddenly says, pointing his finger at Sirius while the woman walks away with her gingerbread latte. “You're not thinking about leaving without showing me, are you?” He turns his hand around and wiggles his finger, beckoning Sirius over. “Come on, let me see, let me see!”

Sirius rolls his eyes fondly as he walks over to Remus. “I wouldn't dare,” he says, as he whips his phone out of his pocket and opens his photos.

Remus eagerly looks at the screen. “Oh my, did Purrkins get her fur brushed? What a lovely lady!”

“She did, and she was quite the drama queen about it.” Sirius rolls his eyes. “You'd think we were trying to torture her.”

“Look how proud Bowie looks!”

“Well, he was a really good boy and found two sticks in the yard!”

“And who’s that fuzzy ball of fluff?”

“That's Myta! She was brought in today, and already made many friends.”

“And there's our dynamic duo!”

“Yes, little Adrian and his big brother Bram are still as inseparable as ever.”

“Oh! Is… Is this what I think it is?”

“It is! Siepie got adopted today!”

Remus sighs deeply as Sirius has swipes to the last photo. “God, I envy your job. I mean,” he adds quickly. “I know it's not always fun and very hard work as well.”

“I guess it is,” Sirius says. “But everytime I walk in and see those faces, it more than makes up for it.”

“That's what my friend who works in kindergarten always says,” Remus says. “But I could never quite imagine. In this case, though, I immediately believe it.”

Sirius grins. “Wanna quit this job and come volunteer in the shelter with me?”

“Too bad,” Remus says. “Getting paid is a non-negotiable for my job.”

“You'll get paid in cuteness!” Sirius insists.

“Cuteness doesn't pay college tuition, I'm afraid.” Remus chuckles. “Otherwise you'd be studying for free.”

Sirius opens and closes his mouth.

Remus turns bright red and runs a hand through his hair. “I… Erm, I mean…” He claps his hands. “Well, I better get cleaning! Considering my brain-to-mouth-filter apparently stopped working, I must be very tired. I should start closing up.”

“You know,” Sirius quickly says. “If you really want to know more about me outside of this coffeeshop, my chosen family is hosting a Christmas Eve party. Maybe you'd like to come?”

“Christmas Eve?” Remus replies. “Oh, I'm sorry. I already promised my mum that I'd go to this event with her on Christmas Eve.”

Sirius face falls. “Right. Of course. It's short notice, after all. Well, better luck next time.” Sirius turns to walk away.

“Sirius!” Remus grabs his wrist. “I really am sorry.”

Sirius looks down at Remus’ hand and then up to his face. “It's okay. It's Christmas Eve. You can't cancel on your mum, of course.”

Remus bites his lip. “Would you think me a terrible person if I kind of wish I could?”

Sirius smiles. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“That's amazing, mate!” James beams at him.

“We should not get ahead of ourselves,” Sirius warns. “I mean, he did say no.”

“But he obviously wanted to say yes!” James exclaims, grinning broadly.

“He did, didn't he?” Sirius’ face also breaks out into a grin. “I mean, he wouldn't have called me back to emphasize how sorry he was if he was just trying to blow me off.”

“Definitely not,” James assures him. “He's totally into you, just really couldn't make it. And now he knows you're interested, so nothing should be stopping him from asking you out next! Which is good, as the sooner we know if it's going to work out with coffeeshop guy, the better. Lily's friend is single now, but he won't be forever. Ow!” James rubs his arm where Sirius just punched him. “But of course I'm rooting for you!” He adds, upon seeing the glare Sirius is directing at him. “I'm just saying, it's a shame Lily's friend can't make it to the party either. It would've been good if you could've at least gotten to meet him before completely making up your mind on coffeeshop guy.”

Sirius lies back on the bed, folding his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “I hate to break it to you, Jamie, but my mind is already completely made up on coffeeshop guy.”

James looks at Sirius and shakes his head. “You're really gone for him, aren't you?”

Sirius sighs. “I can't bloody stop thinking about him.”

“Good heavens,” James says. “You're down bad!”

“I'm glad mum's library boy couldn't make it to the party either,” Sirius says. “Now the only person I have to politely reject is Hope Lupin’s son. Though maybe he's completely mortified about his mother's meddling and isn't even into me at all,” he adds hopefully.

“Wouldn't count on it mate,” James says, lying down next to him. “A single gay guy seeing you and deciding he's not interested? That happened exactly never.”

Sirius groans, and James pats his leg sympathetically.

“I'm not even trying to boost your ego here. You know the effect you have when you walk into a room.”

Okay, so maybe Sirius does kind of know the effect he has when he walks into a room. Giggling, admiring glances, lingering looks, that sort of thing, but he had not exactly expected to have that effect on the middle-aged and elderly women of town.

At the Potters’ grand Christmas Eve party, it seems like every single one of them is stopping him. “Oh my, Sirius Black? Is that you? Look at you! My dear, you get more handsome every year! Say, is there a special someone in your life already?”

This is mostly followed by them listing all their children or grandchildren who are still single, while Sirius tries to politely get away before they whip out the photos. He's grateful that at least he hasn't run into Hope Lupin yet, shoving her son in his face. Photos are easier to get away from than an actual person, after all.

When talking to seventy-five-year-old Mrs Markell, she hadn't even been mentioning any grandchildren, and Sirius is wholly unprepared when she suddenly takes a stack of photos out of her purse, with no chance for him to get away on time. But it turns out she heard Sirius is studying to become a vet, and she just wants to show him pictures of her beloved dog, Mr Barkell. And well, Sirius is definitely here for that.

“Oh my god, what a handsome fella indeed!” Sirius is just gushing over Mr Barkell in his brand new Christmas sweater, knitted by Mrs Markell herself when he hears a familiar voice.

“Sirius?”

He looks up and immediately feels his heart speed up, because Remus in an apron is adorable, but Remus in a button-up and suit jacket? Good god. “Remus?” He manages to say. “What are you doing here? I thought you had that thing with your mum?”

Remus looks just as surprised as he does while gesturing around himself. “This is the thing with my mum.”

Sirius blinks. “Your mum took you to our Christmas Eve party?”

“Apparently,” Remus says, smiling sheepishly.

Suddenly, Euphemia’s voice can be heard. “Remus!”

“Msr Euphemia?” Remus stammers.

“You're here! Oh, how lovely.” Euphemia gives Remus a warm hug, before playfully slapping his shoulder. “And you made me think you couldn't make it, you,” she tuts.

“You know Remus?” Sirius asked, stunned.

Euphemia rolls her eyes. “Why, of course I know Remus! I've been trying to introduce you to him for ages! Ever since this adorable boy walked into my library,” she says fondly, squeezing Remus’ arm.

Before Sirius can say anything else, another voice sounds. “Oh no, you two are already talking!” Hope Lupin rushes up to them. “And I wanted to be the one to introduce you two!”

Euphemia frowns. “Why did you want to introduce Remus to Sirius?”

Hope blinks. “...Remus is my son?”

“Remus from the library is your son?” Euphemia exclaims.

The two women stare at each other for a moment, and then they burst out laughing. “Can you believe it…?” “This whole time…” “We were just trying to get Sirius together with the same person!”

Remus’ cheeks turn bright red. “Mum!”

“Remus! Mate! You're here!” Sirius probably shouldn't even be surprised anymore to see James running up to Remus and slinging an arm around him. “Lily said you already had other plans, but I'm super glad you made it after all!”

James lets go of Remus and walks up to Sirius, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward. “Have you met Sirius yet?”

“Yes,” Remus replies, looking a bit dazed. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

Sirius stares at him and opens and closes his mouth a few times before managing to produce words. “You're library boy, and Hope Lupin’s son, and Lily's friend?”

“Wait, really?” James speaks before Remus can reply. “Are you serious, Sirius? That's all the same person? All Remus?” He starts laughing and clasps Sirius on the shoulder. “I know how head over heels in love you are with your coffeeshop guy, but mate, this sort of seems like fate, doesn't it?”

Now it's Sirius’ face that turns bright red, as Remus raises his eyebrows. “James!” Sirius hisses.

James looks from Sirius, to Remus, and back again and his eyes widen. “What? Do you mean… No way!” He gasps. “Are you for real? That's insane, mate! Insane, but also kind of amazing. Wow, this best man's speech is going to write itself!”

“James!”

“So,” Sirius begins, staring up at the night sky after Remus and he have stepped outside for a moment to talk. "Apparently, everyone in my life has been trying to set me up with you.”

“Yeah,” Remus says, awkwardly scratching his head. “Sorry about that.”

“Don't be,” Sirius says, turning to him to look him in the eyes. “I must admit, I kind of like that everyone in our lives saw you, saw me, and all had the same thought: these two should be together.”

The smile Remus gives him makes Sirius feel warm even in the December cold. Remus reaches out his hand. “Including us?”

Sirius smiles back at him as he takes the offered hand. “Yeah, we beat them to it, didn't we?” He squeezes Remus’ hand softly. “Including us.”

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar christmas fics #wolfstar christmas #wolfstar holiday fluff #coffeeshop au #smitten sirius black #good friend james potter #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter

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updownlately · 2 years ago

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make me yours my love (cause you’re nobody to me, yet somebody to me)

| alessia russo x reader | fluff (tooth-rotting fluff) | 4.5k | a/n: heard a song from another language, got obsessed with it, translated it to english, and wrote a fic. ended up losing the plot half way through and bs-ed the rest over the course of a week. anyways, i hate it, here you go.

~~~

You had never thought you’d leave North America. It was where you grew up. Where you’d had your best and worst times. It was home.

And when you had moved to Seattle from Vancouver to join the OL Reign, you thought that playing in the NWSL would be your greatest achievement, never expecting anything outrageous to occur, never daring to entertain the idea that you would ever venture any farther away from home. Thus, you clearly didn’t account for your hard work to actually pay off and for you to attract the attention of European clubs with the likes of Manchester City, Aston Villa, or Manchester United.

Even with your hesitance on leaving the continent, you had accepted United's offer almost as soon as it had come through, only waiting to double check with Sue and Megan on what their thoughts were. Of course the two women you saw as parental figures had freaked out on your behalf. They didn’t need to say it verbally but with the way they supported you as you virtually signed the contract and got ready to move showed you how incredibly proud they were of you for not only continuing to rise to a higher level in your career, but for pushing yourself out of your comfort zone.

But when the offer to extend your single year contract into a three year came, however, it wasn’t Sue, Megan, or anyone else back home who played a role in your decision. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly as some of the training staff would say, it was your United teammates that unknowingly convinced you to stay.

In the single year you had spent with them, they had welcomed you with open arms, taking you in as one of their own.

Zelem and Mary had become your unofficial team moms, making sure you never got into too much trouble whilst Tooney, Millie, Leah, and the other girls had practically become your sisters. And of course, you had Alessia. Sweet, clumsy, back heel queen Alessia had become one of your closest friends in the new city, her being one of the only few people your introverted self had felt fully comfortable around.

You never understood why or how you were able to so quickly feel so relaxed around the tall girl, you typically being quite shy and reserved with new people, but you definitely weren’t complaining.

Moving countries, much less continents, was never easy, but with Alessia beside you since day one, it had never been too difficult.

Since the day that you had awkwardly waved hi to the United girls and attended your first official WSL practice, Alessia hadn’t left your side once. In fact, within the first few weeks of you being in England, the rest of the girls had established that wherever Alessia was, you were and vice versa, one rarely being found without the other.

Through the homesickness, loneliness, anxiety, and at one point, even depression, she had been there next to you. Be it picking you up and dropping you off from practice, bringing over home cooked meals, or tours around the city, she’d been your rock as you struggled but finally adjusted to being alone again.

And when city tours turned into trying new restaurants together and her dropping off home cooked meals led to bi-weekly movie nights with Alessia’s heavenly dinners or take out, you both never acknowledged how much you cared for each other. Really though, you didn’t have to. A blind person could feel the love that you both radiated for each other.

It was spoken through the way Alessia had become less clumsy over the months, with you now there to catch her. To pull her aside before she could crash into a defensive training dummy. To ensure that her laces were tied and she was aware every time the ground was raised or there was a kerb to watch out for.

Alessia told you she cared when she’d hold you tightly against her chest, after every hard game, practice, or just day. The height difference between your 5’3'' and her 5’9'' was near comical but neither of you minded. If anything, in your opinion, it just made the hugs better since you could bury your face in her neck and block out the world for a few minutes. If Alessia minded, she surely didn’t say a word to you. You didn’t know it but if Alessia was completely honest to herself, she truly loved when you’d hug her. She absolutely adored the way you’d hide your face as you’d hug her, you standing on your tiptoes to comfortably rest your head in the crook of her neck, letting only her see you break, trusting her so easily, warming her heart each time.

You’d whisper the depths of your care when you’d let her lean on you during your movie nights, carding your fingers through her hair when you knew she was on the brink of sleep. In the way you’d slowly manoeuvre both yourself and her into a more comfortable position, her often ending up curled up on top of you, not that you minded at all, welcoming her warmth. How you’d ignore the inevitable stiff neck you would always wake up with since you’d always watch movies in the living room. In your eyes, the pain was always going to be worth seeing the blonde hugging you tightly whilst she slept on your chest.

The star striker would whisper her care ever so softly, staying on call with you during the nights where you missed Seattle a bit too much. When she’d bring you your favourite coffee the next morning, knowing that you’d be tired from your mind running the night before. When she’d drive you to practise, putting on your favourite playlists for the fatigue ridden ride, without you so much as having to ask, her knowing you almost as well as she knew herself.

You both had eventually become so close that even Tooney joked that she should move out and retire from being Alessia's best friend now that you were here for the title. You had simply laughed in response, knowing that at the end of the day, at the end of the month, at the end of the season, even though she was just your teammate at United, she was also simply your favourite person in Manchester (and possibly England, and maybe, just maybe, even in the whole world).

You weren’t someone to really believe in love, having had to witness almost every romantic relationship around you crash and burn, save for Binoe (bless them). So when Alessia clumsily toppled into your life, you didn’t expect that she’d make a home in the cracks of your broken heart. You didn’t expect for her to line the streets of your heart with cosy buildings of every delightful colour known to mankind. You didn’t expect for your heart to flutter like a butterfly each time she was near, the euphoria of having her close nearly causing your feet to grow wings, placing you on cloud nine.

She had your heart and you had no idea when she had taken or how she had taken it, but she had. The way her eyes would crinkle as she laughed had wrapped its threads around your soul. The way she’d have to lean down to hug most of her teammates, you included, and she’d never complain, doing so without being asked, restored your faith in the world. The way her smile would rival the warmth and brightness of the morning sun on your worst days had you smiling softly by yourself as you couldn’t help but stare at her, the only star that you would gladly let damage your eyesight.

While to everyone else she was just your teammate and friend, to you she was so much more. She wasn’t yours but she was something to you, somebody to you, and you hoped to god that you’d never lose her.

It’s funny looking back at when you first realised you were in love with the blonde. It had taken you almost half a year to register that you wanted more than a friendly relationship with her. You remember the exact moment so vividly, having replayed it over and over again in your mind as you lay on your bed, gently begging whatever higher deity existed to make your dreams a reality.

You both, as well as the rest of the team, had just finished a gruelling late training session and Alessia had somehow managed to convince you to let her come around so both of you could make pasta from scratch. You were unbearably tired, not having slept well the night before and the request to postpone the plan was on the tip of your tongue. However, you had made the mistake of looking up from your training bag and right into the bright blue eyes of the taller girl just as you were about to say no, and instead, you (embarrassingly easily, might you add) were persuaded to do nothing but hum in agreement to Alessia’s request.

So once she had picked up the necessary ingredients whilst you waited, trying and failing to nap in the car, and you both had made it to your flat, she had begun flitting around your kitchen, already at home in your house.

You were sitting on the counter, banned from helping due to your tiredness, contentedly watching the partially-Italian woman as she stirred the pasta sauce she had made, that the thought of this scene being ever-present for the rest of your life had briefly crossed your mind. However, you had waved it off at that time, blaming the exhaustion in your bones for your delusional feelings. It had worked and you had forgotten about your yearning for a few seconds, until Alessia had switched the stove off, turned to you, and had taken in your drowsy appearance.

Wordlessly, she had bridged the gap of a few feet between you and gently pulled you towards the edge of the island, pushing apart your legs and bringing her arms to gently wrap around your midsection. It was as she slotted herself perfectly in the space she had created, nudging your head to rest comfortably in the crook of her neck, that you inhaled a deep sigh and let yourself relax, sinking into the hug. As your mind finally began to slow down, the circles Alessia was rubbing on your back calming you quickly, the whole situation hit you.

Here you were, in the arms of your best friend, after she had just finished cooking you dinner, and was holding you so gently, reading you like a book, providing you with the comfort you needed to finally rest. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that Alessia was currently peak girlfriend material - hell even possibly wifey material. Tired and relaxed, this time when the thought of being the only one who Alessia would treat so perfectly like this for the rest of her life came across your heart, you let it warm you, indulging in the loveliness of being cared for.

You had known then, that the blonde irrevocably had your heart, and you were helpless to do anything about it. You were nothing but putty in her hands, your fate lying in hers.

From that point on, you had made it your goal to love Alessia the best you could, regardless of whether she loved you back or not.

As days and months went on, you two got even closer, if that was even possible. If you had thought that both of you were close before, the present put the past to incredulous shame. Your morning routine now definitively consisted of picking up Alessia before morning training and other team events and driving the proud ‘passenger princess’, as you liked to call her, to grab breakfast and head to practice, Tooney joining you two once in a blue moon. Bi-weekly movie nights had become weekly occurrences, and her dropping off home cooked meals turned into you both cooking together in your tiny kitchen most nights.

Telling Alessia you had extended your contract had been one of your favourite moments of the postseason. With her due to play for United another two years too (totally not a deciding factor in your renewal at all), the idea of her getting to spend the remainder of her contract playing not only with Tooney, Mary, and many of the other close friends she’d made, but with you as well excited her unfathomably. The blonde hadn’t stopped smiling for a week straight, and you had a feeling that if she had gone even a single day longer than she had, her face would’ve frozen with her blinding smile stuck permanently.

You knew then, you were a goner for her, for that smile, for the comfort she gave you, her hugs that healed you. You knew you’d give her all of you without taking anything in return, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care either. You’d give her the world if she asked, all it would take for you to do so is her saying the words, no qualms on your end. You knew that be it as a friend or a lover, you wanted to be the cause of her smiles, her laughs at everything stupid, and the reason her eyes would sparkle with joy. You knew that you wanted her, you just didn’t know she wanted you too.

So caught up in your own head, in your own yearning for the taller girl, you never noticed the longing stares or the blush that would coat her cheeks each time you were near. You never questioned why she’d hug you significantly longer than anyone else, even Tooney or her own mother. You completely, almost idiotically obliviously missed the way she’d go out of her way to make you comfortable, how she had made it her priority as much as you had made it to ensure that her smile would stay.

The two of you danced around each other for months without knowing, two threads dangling from the sky, tangling so effortlessly, yet making no move to separate. You two were bound together unknowingly, without a title, without it being something, without a label. You both were each other's nobody’s, the “no-one special”, yet both of you were silently craving to be each other’s somebody. All you needed really was for the other to make you theirs, the pair of you too scared to accidentally overstep and risk losing the other completely.

At the end, it only took the two of you just over a year and a half before the two of you made any move towards dating.

It was a chilly mid February day. You had gotten injured that morning, hurting your ankle quite severely and Alessia had so graciously offered to crash with you for a few nights to help you out. You had once again, familiarly, found yourself situated by your island, slumped on the counter, painkillers from the hospital coursing you through your veins, as Alessia cooked for you.

While the sight had become more common to you over the past handful of months, it never got old. The way she’d (for once) gracefully move around, opening your cabinets and rummaging through your pantry and fridge with familiarity and ease, in her element, swaying gently to yours and hers shared playlist you had playing on your speaker. The way her hair was tied back yet a few strands always seemed to spill through, framing her face perfectly. How the heat from the stoves had her cheeks tinted, ever so slightly strawberry red. How absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous she looked bathed in the soft golden lighting of your house, a house that turned into a home whenever she was there.

This time, instead of shying away from watching her as you usually would, you let yourself indulge, eyes tracing the way her arms would flex as she chopped the necessary ingredients, as she used the bench scraper to toss everything into the sizzling pan. You admired the way your old oversized hoodie fit her absolutely perfectly, your last name sitting prettily on her back, as if that sweatshirt was meant to be hers.

You’d been so caught up in your unabashed staring that you didn’t realise Alessia had turned to face you, ladle in hand, the other on her hip, a single eyebrow raised in amusement.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” she teased.

“Definitely did. Something about dinner and it being ready?” You jested, hoping that your obvious guess was at least somewhat close.

“You’re lucky you’re attractive, and half a decent defender…otherwise I wouldn’t be cooking for you y’know.” The way Alessia smirked as your cheeks heated up told you that the striker knew exactly what she was doing, winking at you before laughing and turning around. “Anyways, like I was saying, the doc said you’re probably going to feel really drowsy once the meds wear off, though the pain should definitely be gone. I’m thinking once dinner’s done, we can just go crash in your room, put on a movie or something so I don’t have to carry you around when you knock out? I’m clumsy enough on my own, I don’t need to be holding another person to test it,” she continued.

“Good with me. Plus, at least you’re self-aware enough to know that you are a walking Bambi. It’s honestly a miracle that you aren’t constantly wrapped in bubble wrap at this point.”

“Okay just for that comment, I’m picking the movie and I’m not giving you my hoodie.”

“That’s not fair, I’m drugged up right now. If anything, that’s abuse. You’re torturing a helpless individual,” you mumble as you lay your head on the cool surface of the island.

“Definitely torturing you by cooking you supper and not giving you my hoodie… and as I let you rest since you’re injured and doped up, right?” You could only groan in response to her logic, pouting at not being able to come up with a response.

As Alessia continued to move around your kitchen, finishing up on dinner and plating the food, you went back to observing her. You studied the way she tried the stir fry, taking a bite before scrunching her face adorably and adding more ingredients to fix whatever she thought was lacking. You watched her as she finally decided everything was ready, as she sweetly plated food for you first, handing it to you, before doing so for herself. You smiled, fascinated with the way her body moved as grabbed waters for the both of you, entranced by the ease in her movement.

You were distracted throughout the whole dinner, mumbling responses, missing questions. You blamed it on the medications and fatigue when the forward beside you asked if you were okay, but in actuality your mind couldn’t help but constantly wander to imagining what it would be like if this was your life. If dinners with Alessia could be your future. If movie nights in your bed, you in her hoodie could be a regular occurrence. You knew you’d thought it before, the ideas were nothing new to you, but you had never craved it this bad before, never wanted it more than right now.

You’d been so lost in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed Alessia grabbing your dishes or her own, nor her loading the dishwasher. It was only when she had stepped in front of you that you snapped out of your reverie.

“You sure you’re okay? You seem really out of it…you know I’ve got you right?”

When you fail to meet her eyes immediately, she cradles your face in her hands, one on either side of your jaw, gently tilting your head back to meet her eyes. Her worried eyes scan your face and then the rest of your body, trying to pinpoint something, anything that could have been the cause of your dip in mood.

“Seriously, what’s going on? You were fine just a little while ago. Is it your ankle? Is the pain back? The doctor said the medication would wear off around midnight but if it’s wearing off right now we can call the hospi-”

Shaking your head amusedly at her worried rambling, you cut her off before she forgot how to breathe. “Less I’m fine.”

“Bull. You haven’t said more than 5 words ever since I asked about watching a movie. Oh my gosh, is this about how I said I’m picking the movie? ‘Cause if so, you can totally pick, I swear. I was just teasing. And… and of course you can have my hoodie too. I promise I was just joking. I didn’t mean t-”

“Alessia,” you stated firmly, a slight frown returning to your face when it was her who now couldn’t look at you.

Sensing her anxiety, you reach out for the blonde, hands finding home on her hips, squeezing gently, just enough to get her to finally stop scanning your body for injuries and instead look at you.

“I’m fine, I promise. Just been thinking, that’s all.”

“About? What’s got you so distracted? If it’s the injury, we both know you’ll be back in no time. I don’t mind sticking around to help around while you’re recovering. I’d be happy to help you know? I don’t mind. Plus-”

“Less, it’s not the injury. I don’t care about the recovery. I’ve already accepted that I won’t be playing for a few weeks. Stop worrying, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal, yeah right…” she scoffs, her hands moving to your shoulders. “Are you actually not going to tell me what’s going on? What’s bothering you? Was it something I did? Is that why you’re not telling me? If I messed up I’ll fix it okay? I'd rather fix it than lose you. Please. Please tell me what’s going on so I can fix it.”

It was in the next few moments that you contemplated whether it would be worth it. Whether potentially destroying your friendship with the blonde that you’ve been in love with since you met her over a year and half ago would be worth the risk of telling her and outing yourself. You considered pretending everything was fine, to make up some excuse using your newly acquired injury or something about the fans and the pressure, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t lie to her. You couldn’t be dishonest. Not when you looked up and saw the care and concern etched in her face, wrinkles scattered across, creases from distress that you had caused.

You figured that if anything, if, no when, when she told you she didn’t feel the same, you could take the next few weeks you had off for healing and rehab to get over her. It wouldn’t be so bad right? You could take those three weeks to heal your ankle and your heart, and then you could go back to being Alessia’s best friend again.

“Hey, I promise I won’t judge alright? Whatever it is, it’s safe with me, I swear on football,” came the gentle voice from the girl towering above you.

You waited a second before looking up, taking a deep sigh in, revelling in the peace before the chaos that you knew was going to come after. Looking in her eyes, you audibly swallowed, before closing your own.

“I’m in love with you. Have been for ages now, and it’s killing me. It’s killing me to see you in my kitchen, at my house, making it a home. It’s killing me to have you cuddle into me when I know I can’t pull you closer at every chance. It’s physically breaking me when I can’t walk up to you in my kitchen and kiss you to thank you for cooking for me, for taking care of me. It’s hurting me when I know that there’s probably going to come a day where you find someone else and I’m left here with your ghost. It terrifies me that I’m nobody to you but you’re somebody to me.” Your voice cracks in the last sentence and you pray to whatever God existed that she couldn’t hear your heart quietly cracking too.

When a minute passes in complete silence, and then another, you dare to open your eyes. Taking a shaky breath in, you don’t know what to make of the sight in front of you. There, Alessia stands, in all her glory, your hands still on her hips, her head tilted back, eyes glazed over, on the verge of tears.

Your heart’s breaking further with each second that passes and you mentally prepare yourself for the rejection that’s incoming.

“Please say something. Please…”

A beat passes. Then two, before Alessia finally looks back down at you, a lone tear falling from her eyes, one that she quickly wipes away, a smile on her face. “Took you long enough to catch up.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. The possibility of your dreams becoming a reality never seemed plausible to you. “Less, don't play. Please,” you beg.

“You were never nobody to me idiot. You weren’t ever nothing to me. You’ve been somebody to me since I met you y’know? You’ve had my heart since you walked onto the training pitch, looking like a lost kid.”

“Honest?” You asked, just to make sure you weren’t hearing things, that she actually liked you back, that you weren’t dreaming. When Alessia nodded in return, you couldn’t help but smile, your grin stretching from ear to ear.

Wiping the few tears that had made their way down your face, you moved your hands to wrap around the other girl, pulling her close to you, hugging her tightly. You tucked your head into the chest, her arms wrapping around your neck, your beaming smile hidden in the cloth of her sweatshirt.

“Let me make you mine? Go on a date with me?” The blonde quietly asked, kissing the top of your head.

This time, it was your turn to nod. You did so energetically, practically vibrating with happiness, twin grins adorning both yours and Alessia’s face.

You couldn’t ever fathom the idea of leaving Canada as a child, yet now, all grown up, on your own, you’d never been more glad you had left. That you had allowed yourself the opportunity to find a new home, one that you found here, in the arms of Alessia Russo.

You’d spent months thinking you weren’t anybody to her, and now? Now you knew you were somebody to her. That you weren’t alone this whole time. That she wanted to make you hers all along.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader #woso fanfics #fluff #x reader #reader insert #my writing #fic #mmyml #alessia russo

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aohisworld · 9 months ago

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MAGNETIC PULSE! 01

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝�� Aohi is signed into a CO-ED contract and meets her future members alongside another female member, but she’s not necessarily welcome..

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ eventual poly!ot7 x added member!oc. (ri-ki centric). content warnings: bickering, a bit of cursing? a little cringe writing.

| : ̗̀➛ MINTIE’s NOTES: Enhypen was considered a boy group prior to this chapter. Aohi was tied to girl group, XG before Enhypen. (ft. members of XG, other idols.)

| : ̗̀➛ WARNING! How I write ENHYPEN is not meant to portray the idols irl, this is my au and I write this for fun. contains angst and a little bit of bickering/awkward tension.

✧. ┊ ⁭⁭ ⁭ ⁭AOHI wasn't one to be a leader, and she knew that from a very young age. She loved to follow the crowd, keep up with trends and go along with any flow her friends set.

Aohi also knew she was one to set things in stone once planned, she was always ready to do things, anything her friends asked of her or plans they wanted to do, she followed orders, that was her whole thing but..

When Aohi had to face the decision of basically being kicked out of her group, being singled out by the company for reasons she didn't know yet, all she had to work with was her manager's soft and sympathetic gaze on her, and that wasn't much.

The rest of the meeting went through one ear of hers and out the other, I mean, why wouldn't it? Why wouldn't it when the group you trained so hard to join was finally gaining recognition, and only now, did management think you weren't right for the concept and kicked you out?

"I'm really sorry, Aohi. You'll do great things, just... not with us." Yuzi spoke softly, Aohi knew her as one of the higher-ups, her manager's boss.

"But...I worked so hard.." Aohi could only blurt out, standing up from her seat. "It's not that you'll be sent back, Aohi," Yuzi did what she could to cool any emotion down before they could leave Aohi's lips.

"You're just, not the concept we want, not.. now." Yuzi chose her words deliberately as to not spark any unwanted feelings inside of Aohi, Yuzi wasn't a bad person, nor was she heartless, hell, she even treated the entirety of XG as her daughters, so Aohi couldn't be mad.

"What do you want me to do then? Where will I go?"

"You'll be moved into a co-ed project, the higher ups, and Hybe, wanted to create something new, and they picked you, Aohi." Yuzi spilled, reaching over to hold a motherly hand over the young girl's shaking fingers.

"So I'll just be put into a new group? That's it for me?" Aohi asked after a slight pause, her head was in a ramble trying to process the information given to her.

"You'll be put into Enhypen." Yuzi confirmed, Aohi paused for a bit, she was versed in various k-pop groups, being the sole reason on why she was an idol now.

"But isn't that a boy group? Why would they want to turn it into a co-ed project last minute?-" Aohi's eyebrows furrowed as her personal manager finally made a move, placing a hand on Aohi's shoulder as if to tell her to calm down. she had been sitting in the corner for a while, listening in on the conversation.

"Aohi, calm down, okay?" Her personal manager softly whispered, her hand squeezing at Aohi's shoulders, trying to ease the girl into a calmer mindset.

"I don't know-" Yuzi couldn't even continue before Aohi is being sat down by her own manager.

"How could you not know?" She challenged back, her hand retracting from under Yuzi's hold and combing itself through her hair.

"I just don't, Aohi!" Yuzi was starting to get frustrated quickly.

Aohi's questions and irritated feelings was starting to frustrate her as she couldn't explain why, why BE:LIFT decided to pick Aohi, why she had to let her go—

"Listen, you don't have to do it, but it is a choice." Yuzi spoke in a tone that felt finalized, in other words, she was telling Aohi to make a choice.

"I've seen your progress, and I don't want a talented person like you to go back to Fukuoka without a chance." Yuzi continued.

Aohi could only stare back at her, she could feel the shock buzz in her body, her jaw threatening to slack open.

"Aohi, please take this offer, I promise you, it'll be worth it, you won't get far with us, with staying in our company." Yuzi had surrended to begging Aohi.

As a motherly figure, she didn't want Aohi to give up because she wasn't in XG— this whole decision to let her go so that HYBE could bring her up for their co-ed project, was better than any offer they could've gotten for Aohi.

Silence filled the room for a few moments, but to Aohi it felt like forever.

She didn't want to give up easily, XG was her group, she basically grew up with the members like they were her older sisters.

Aohi knew they wouldn't want to see her retreat back to Japan, not when she worked so hard to train to be an idol.

"Well?" Yuzi asked after a moment of silence from Aohi. "Aohi, you have the choice, but you need to make it now."

Aohi's throat felt dry as she wondered, if she returned back to Japan, would her family be disappointed, seeing her come back, not even a year after debuting?—

"Okay, I'll accept the offer."

— It felt unreal, Aohi staring at her old dorm bed, which was hers for not even a year, sitting down on the bare bed, running her hand through it. God, she really didn't want to go— nobody did.

Hinata just watched Aohi silently sit in their bedroom for a while with a heavy heart. If she could just keep Aohi here, with them, she would've.

"Ready to go, batsy?" Hinata's voice broke Aohi out of her thoughts, making the girl look up at one of her sister figures. "Nata-nee, won't you miss me?" Aohi sadly mumbled, looking back down at the bed, still unsure of her decision.

"Aish, just because I'm not crying doesn't mean I'm not sad that you're leaving." Hinata sighed, forcing Aohi to scoot over her bed as she sat beside her.

"You don't know how upset I was when I heard of your termination from XG." She spoke, rubbing gently at the younger girl's shoulder.

"We adore you so much, batsy. You don't even know." Hinata squeezed Aohi's shoulder, feeling her eyes sting at the threat of tears.

"Sometimes, things go this way, and just because we won't be idols together, doesn't mean that's it for you." Aohi looked up at Hinata, sadness evident in her brown orbs.

"What if Yuzi was wrong? What if I'm not well received?" Aohi asked, she felt like she had regressed back to her childish self, asking her older sister things she wasn't supposed to be worrying about.

"Well, then you have us, we'll always be here for you to fall into. We'll be your safety net." Hinata smiled, pinching at Aohi's nose, trying to cheer the younger up.

"Let's go, we've wallowed long enough, it's time, Aohi." Hinata slowly stood up, holding Aohi's hand like a sister would to her younger sibling, squeezing tight in reassurance.

Aohi left the old dorm room, an ache of emotions beating in her chest.

"Aohi, take care of yourself out there, okay?" Harvey approached the young girl.

There was barely any sunshine outside, it was as if the world knew how upset Aohi was, her emotions controlling the weather.

"I don't want you to go, I really don't." Juria said in hushed whispers beside her, hooking her arm around Aohi's tightly, hoping her grip could possibly make Aohi stay.

Juria whispered her words to Aohi because she felt like she would be reprimanded if anyone even heard her loud enough.

"I don't want to, either, Juria." Aohi rubbed her hand in the tired girl's head, trying to comfort her however she could.

Aohi sighed, the girl barely keeping her composure before dropping her grip from her luggage and pulling Juria into her arms, holding each other tightly.

"Be strong, batsy." Harvey approached the two as she placed her arms over their embrace, hugging Aohi and Juria tightly.

It was ironic though, being told to stay strong when Harvey's morning skincare was easily ruined by the salty tears that ran down her face.

"They better treat you well at be-lift." Cocona punched Aohi's exposed shoulder, laughing through her own tears.

The rest of XG joined along, trying to turn the sad moment into a memorable one. They wanted to remember their batsy in good spirits.

It felt like time had fastened for Aohi, because their manager couldn't be any faster when she had entered the girls' shared dorms. Aohi could hear her name being called, a shaky sigh leaving her lips.

Aohi picked up her luggage, trying to pull it out of the dormitory. Their manager offered her help with the bags that didn't fit in the suitcase, throwing it over her shoulder.

As Aohi walked further and further away from the girls, she dreaded leaving the dorms even more, because she knew— she knew that if she steps out, she won't be considered a part of XG anymore.

She'll be leaving her sisters behind. She—

As if her thoughts was easily read by the girls, Jurin called after Aohi one last time. Her sisters called her name. "Aohi!" She swore the world stopped for a moment, just for them.

"You have a home here, with us. If everything gets too much, you can always run to us." Jurin left her with words of reassuring.

Even as Aohi was leaving Jurin's duty to lead, to care for her members— to be a pillar of stability for her sisters, shows.

Aohi let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "Always such a leader, Jurin-nee."

AT HYBE HEADQUARTERS, TUESDAY, 9:32 AM—

✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭The meeting room could be considered empty the way it was silent, The current members of ENHYPEN had woken earlier than they should be to meet up; per their management's request, to meet the potentially new members of ENHYPEN.

"Are they here yet?" Heeseung grumbled from his seat. A tired Ri-ki was on his shoulder, using his hyung as a pillow to try and catch the hours of sleep he's missing by being at the meeting.

Sunghoon was busy spacing out by his seat, while Sunoo was trying not to doze off in his own chair.

"Just be patient a little longer, boys." Their manager tried to soothe the boys' tired annoyance.

"Sorry, sorry!" An unfamiliar staff member entered into the room, two masked girls entering after them. Heeseung looked up, slightly curious.

He assumed from the way they seem to stick to the staff member, and how their own manager lit up at the sight of them, they must've been the reason for the meeting.

"Took you while enough." The manager glanced at the staff member in charge of the girls. Heeseung wasn't sure what to think of the two girls who huddled together.

Aohi already felt close to her member, well, even if they only met a few minutes ago, it was a few minutes longer than the boys of ENHYPEN. Aohi had gotten to know her unnie’s name, Xiulin.

Xiulin was in a similar situation as Aohi, picked off from a group to join Aohi in the co-ed project, 'How considerate.' Aohi thought at the time, at least she didn't feel like she was alone.

Of course, Aohi felt awful that Xiulin had gone through the same thing, especially when she had heard that her unnie was the leader of her own group.

Aohi could only imagine how Xiulin felt.

"Boys, this is Aohi and Xiulin. They'll be the new additions to Enhypen." The staff's gaze turned from the boys to the girls, Ri-ki and Sunoo were now at full attention, glancing at the girls with an awkward look.

Although, the silence must've been unbearable since after just a minute had passed, the staff ushered any one of the boys to say something.

"Yang Jungwon, it's nice to meet you two.." Jungwon took the first move for the group, bowing professionally before reaching his hands over. A handshake, Jungwon was waiting for a handshake.

Aohi hesitated for a bit, looking anxiously at Jungwon's hand, but before she could even decide to shake his hand, Xiulin reached over and took his hand for her.

"It's nice to meet you, Aohi and I look forward to working with you, please take care of us." Xiulin spoke gently, bowing as she held Jungwon's hand. Aohi could only look in awe and admiration at Xiulin.

Xiulin reminded her so much of Jurin.

Aohi quickly snapped out of her awed gaze before turning towards Jungwon and shaking his hand as well, bowing politely, showing her respect to him.

In Jungwon's head, he kind of thought of Aohi as peculiar, Xiulin had a mature personality and was willing to take over for her members, shaking his hand for Aohi was already proof of that.

Aohi has not spoken a single word since they had seen her, only opting to follow after her unnie, sitting down alongside her.

"So, let's get the gist down for what will be Enhypen's schedule now that Xiulin and Aohi are here—" The manager sat middle of the members.

"Enhypen, was always planned to be a co-ed group. We wondered adding female contestants into I-land, but there was never a right time to introduce them." The manager seemed to open a folder of sorts, Aohi and Xiulin listening intently to her words.

"I'd like to think we were doing well on our own, as a boy-group.." Sunoo softly spoke, looking slightly apologetic to Aohi and Xiulin for his opinion.

To an extent, Aohi understood why Sunoo thought so and his hesitance to the addition of girls into the group.

Aohi knew that if she were on the other side of the meeting table, she would be confused, and even frustrated if XG made member additions, much less of the opposite gender when they were told it was strictly a girl group.

The teenage girl looked around the room, observing the other members of ENHYPEN.

As an idol, it would be embarrassing if she didn't know her future members and their names, so she made the courtesy of at least learning their names and faces.

Aohi's gaze landed on Jake, at least she hoped it was Jake? His features was somewhat displaying a perplexed look, spinning in his chair as he seemed deep in thought.

"Well, yes but— see, the co-ed plan was set before Enhypen was even formed as an idea." The manager replied to Sunoo, making the boy deflate as he leaned back to his seat.

It wasn't a secret that their stay in I-land or anything relating, was exactly fun. It was something the members were unsure to explain.

The boys struggled a lot with trying to debut, their journey was turned into a source of entertainment. It was called a survival show for a reason.

Heeseung seemed to struggle at wrapping his mind around the fact that these girls were just being added, firstly it felt unnecessary, and the girls would just not understand.

Jungwon was more frustrated at the fact that this means the girls would have to debut at a later album and it'll complicate what the group was already working on.

"Do they have to join our group? Wouldn't it be better to place them with a group that'll debut together?" Jake bluntly asked, Aohi couldn't lie and say she wasn't offended, because she was.

Aohi was taken aback by Jake's sudden question, so shocked in fact that she could just feel her jaw slacking before it even attempted to open physically.

"What Jake-hyung meant was that, the girls will struggle with our concept- as well as our fans might not receive them well and—" Sunghoon tried to save face for his hyung in front of the staff members and the girls.

Xiulin stared at Jake offended while Aohi only looked appalled.

"What can you do? I mean, these girls have nowhere else to go but be here." The manager's fingers pointed down at the table, emphasizing her seriousness with the taps to the table.

"Their companies have already terminated their contracts, their idol dreams end here if they don't debut with you boys."

The manager no longer felt lenient with the boys, at first, their manager wanted to be understanding, knowing it was an incredibly big change for both sides.

"We've already debuted a while ago, they'll struggle to keep up." Jay wanted to defend his brother, sitting up in his chair.

"If you think we can't handle it, I assure you Xiulin-unnie and I can keep up." Aohi replied, speaking for the first time after she entered the room. She frankly felt offended that this group, was so against them debuting with ENHYPEN.

"You don't know that." Jungwon retaliated, "You don't know us either." Xiulin countered.

"We both left our groups so we could debut with you, I went through that so I could be here," Aohi sighed, "I understand why you're upset, but I've sacrificed more than what I was willing to give to be an idol and I'm sure Xiulin-unnie had to as well."

Aohi had a determined look in her eyes, it was clear that the girl wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"So I'm going to debut, whether you guys like it or not."

"Fine. If you want to debut, don't expect us to help," heeseung replied after a few moments of silence. "Show us you're worth adding into our group."

"Heeseung! That's not—" Their manager scolded the eldest, Heeseung only glancing at her with a blank look, his gaze returning to Aohi.

Heeseung and Aohi was somewhat stuck in a staring contest, as if trying to test each other's patience.

Aohi could feel her jaw clench at this, just what was this group's problem?!

"We will, just see."

— ENHYPEN APARTMENTS, GIRLS DORMS, 11:18 am—

✧. ┊ ⁭⁭AOHI just met her new bandmates, and they already dislike her. Well, the seven of them, at least. Xiulin seems to like her! She hopes…

Silence filled the new dorms as Xiulin and Aohi unpacked, both girls focused on returning a sense of familiarity in an unfamiliar space.

Aohi tried her best to replicate her old room, using trinkets given by Harvey and Jurin to give her comfort. Aohi sat down on her bed, it was too soft for her liking. She could feel her lips start to tremble when the situation sinked in.

Thankfully, Xiulin noticed before she could say anything.

"Looks good." Xiulin spoke from the other side of the room. Aohi sniffled, looking up as if wondering what she meant.

"Your part of the room. It looks nice." Xiulin repeated.

Aohi stared at her unnie for a second before returning her gaze to her hands, responding. "Thanks."

"Worried?" Xiulin continued, taking her response as a green light that Aohi was up to talking. Xiulin folded her clothes as she spoke, placing it on the side in a neat pile to store for later.

Aohi scoffs at her short question— as if it wasn't obvious. "Is it that obvious?"

"If this is about this morning, I'd rather either of us not worry about it."

Xiulin stood up from her spot, bringing her clothes into the dorm's closet, disappearing for a few minutes.

"Didn't you hear them though? We're on our own, and the first album we release with them will be a disaster." It was Xiulin's turn to scoff, Aohi looking back up at the sound of that. "Don't tell me you believe his bluff."

"How would you know it's bluff?" Xiulin sighs, she knew it like it was the most common thing in the world. "They can't leave us to fend for ourselves, how we perform affects them too."

"If you make a single mistake, or cause a rumour, it'll ruin all of us, not just you."

Aohi furrowed her eyebrows, looking down at her fingers. "Maybe, I'm not cut out for this—" Xiulin laughs, catching the younger girl off guard. "C'mon, don't let those boys scare you, we worked just as hard to get here."

"We got this, don't you worry."

BE:LIFT PRACTICE ROOM, THREE WEEKS LATER, 6:43 PM—

— Aohi loved dancing, sure, she wasn't a prodigy or anything, but her dance style was one to lure you into the performance.

Any concept and she's got you, hook, line and sinker.

For some reason though, Aohi felt like her ability was sucked out of her, the way she couldn't even keep up with the practice Ri-ki and Jake gave her and Xiulin.

"It's not that difficult! Switch your feet and you got it." Jake groans. Xiulin and Aohi have been bickering with Jake for the whole practice. The girls could only feel bad for the maknae, who stared at his hyung with an embarrassed look.

Honestly, it felt like Jake was only ever talking to prod at the two girls.

"We're not even used to the steps yet! Give us time!" Xiulin huffed out, glaring at Jake through the foggy mirror of the room.

"Seriously! We're trying, yelling at us won't magically make us do better!" Aohi followed after Xiulin's words. A small silence washed the room, Jake looking at the two girls with a tired and annoyed expression.

After a bit, Jake just turns away, he runs his hand in his hair, walking away. Ri-ki looked up at Jake, wondering what he was doing.

"They really are trying, hyung.." Ni-ki spoke softly enough for Jake to hear. The youngest was obviously trying to soothe the tension between the new members and his hyung.

"Well, obviously not hard enough." Jake replied, taking one last glance at the girls, who looked appalled at his words. Before either girls could retaliate, Jake leaves the practice room, slamming the door behind him.

Ri-ki could only hope that Jake would return after a breather.

"Gosh! The nerve of that guy!— Whatever, I'm going to steam off!" Xiulin grumbled, standing from her spot on the floor and walking off, slipping out of the dance room.

Only and Aohi and Ri-ki were left alone in the practice room, the tension being replaced with awkwardness. This was the first time Aohi was left alone with her male bandmates without staff.

Aohi only ever spoke to her members when it was necessary. Aohi has never freely chatted with any of the boys, not even the youngest.

Aohi positioned herself from the middle of the practice room, to the sides, sitting down to wait for Xiulin to return. She tried her best to keep her distance from Ri-ki, since she already assumed he wouldn't want to talk to her.

Ri-ki, unsure of what to do, sits beside her, a reasonable feet apart. It was quiet, the hum-buzz of the air conditioning was the only sound accompanying the two.

"I'm sorry about Jake-hyung." Ri-ki softly mumbled towards her, picking at the skin on his nails.

"Why're you apologizing? Unnie and I want to hear it from him." Aohi replied curtly.

Ri-ki sighed at this response. Ri-ki was a very understanding person, he knew why his hyung was so easily frustrated by anything. He also knew that frustration wasn't an excuse to take it out on Aohi or Xiulin.

"Jake-hyung's just upset, he's trying to adjust." Ri-ki felt like he needed to defend Jake first, despite feeling guilty about the way the boys and the girls bickered all of the time.

"And what makes you think we aren't as well?" Aohi poked. "We're already trying our best trying to follow his instructions,"

"It only makes us even more exhausted that he keeps prodding at the little thing we do wrong." Ri-ki listened, turning to Aohi, "And to think we left our groups for this.."

Ri-ki felt like a dim lightbulb went off of his head— ah, he remembers, their first meeting. Ri-ki would've thought that the girls were picked exclusively.

"Which group?" The younger boy softly spoke, trying to change the subject subtly, trying to keep the neutrality of the two people going.

"XG, my sisters. I left XG to be here, so I could debut with you guys." Aohi nodded along with her words, her fingers fiddling with each other in her lap.

"Did you grow up with them?" It was Aohi's turn to look at Ri-ki, the way he looked at her curiously made a ghost of a smile appear on her lips.

"Eung.." Aohi confirmed, "I didn't join XG until I was about sixteen, then I started to train with them." She shrugged, thinking about her earlier years. "I'm sorry you had to leave." Ri-ki expressed, making the girl shrug.

Aohi didn't really expect Ri-ki to apologize, especially when he was one of the only members who didn't argue with her and Xiulin at every chance.

"You don't have to apologize, at least you're nicer than your hyungs, hm?" Aohi mumbled, giving Ri-ki a lopsided smile before tilting her head back, hitting the wall with a thud.

Ri-ki followed suit, turning away and staring straight in front of him.

"Aohi-noona?" She hummed a response, expecting a question. "Yeah?"

"Where did you grow up, you know, with your group?" Ri-ki spoke back, scooting closer to his noona, feeling a bit more comfortable around her.

"Fukuoka, Japan."

"Ah— you're from Japan too?!" RI-ki's face turned from relaxed to shock, almost gaining whiplash at the way his face whipped to look at Aohi.

"I thought you knew, Ri-ki-san." Aohi used an honorific to tease the boy, who just smiled brightly. Ri-ki was happy that he could have someone to talk to, not just in korean.

"I didn't! Now, I really am glad." Ri-ki laughed, "What?— Why?" Aohi laughed back, finding Ri-ki's starstruck eyes pointed at her amusing.

"I just, miss it there. I mean, Jay-hyung speaks Japanese but, it barely lessens the loneliness.." Ri-ki replied, his wide smile morphing to that of melancholy, Aohi could obviously tell that the younger boy was reminiscing in his head.

"I get it." Aohi spoke in a soft tone, one that gave made Ri-ki feel a little less homesick. Aohi approached the boy, before hesitantly wrapping her hand around Ri-ki and gently patting his shoulder.

"I miss my hometown a lot as well, not just in Japan, but in the Philippines as well."

Aohi felt Ri-ki relax in her hold, allowing her to continue. "I had the girls in XG help me with that homesickness, but you—.." Aohi leaned into him, making him move slightly to the side.

Ri-ki just stared beside him, looking at Aohi with a soft look, wondering what the girl could possibly follow up with. "The point is, I don't think I'll be kicked off anytime soon.." Aohi sighed, removing her hand from off of his shoulders.

Ri-ki felt a little sad, slightly missing the warmth her hold had, but it was the less of his worries.

Aohi didn't really know what she was trying to say after that sentence, she wondered if it was better just shutting up.

"I'm saying, I'm here now, so if you feel homesick, at least we can be homesick together.." The girl gently punched at Ri-ki's shoulder, trying to cheer the boy up.

Ri-ki just stared at Aohi in awe, they've only seriously talked, like one other time, and it wasn't even as personal as this, who was this noona to just declare that for him?

He was astonished at the way Aohi just seems to wear her heart on her sleeve.

"You mean that?" Ri-ki hesitantly asked, "Look, we might not know each other much, but I'm serious, especially about that." Aohi replied, in reality, it just really slipped her lips, but she also knew it came from her heart.

Aohi was weak to those who's got similar experiences, and she was always one to mediate and make people feel better.

Ri-ki looked back down at his lap, a shy smile on his lips at the thought of Aohi staying true to her words, someone to talk to when you feel homesick? It gave a Ri-ki a small warmth in his chest, spreading happily throughout his body.

"Hey.." Aohi caught Ri-ki's attention, making him look up. The girl gently offered her closed fist, a truce of some sorts, a fist bump.

Ri-ki happily took the offer, raising his own fist and bump it against hers, their rings clanking against each other, a dull 'clink!' being heard.

"You're not so bad." Aohi amusingly spoke, a soft smile on her face. "And you're really pretty, noona." Ri-ki replied, mirroring Aohi's smile with his own lips.

It was the way Aohi almost choked on her own spit had she not caught herself. "Yah! Ri-ki-san!" Aohi jokingly scoffed, slapping his shoulder, a form of expressing amusement.

"What was that for?"

"I thought I should just let you know, it was a compliment!" Ri-ki giggled, his smile turning from mirroring Aohi's to one of mischief.

"You don't just tell girls they're pretty, Ki-ah." Aohi smoothly used a nickname she made for the younger boy at the spot, making Ri-ki buzz at the new nickname.

"They'll think you're in love with them and then they'll fall in love with you!" Aohi jokingly scolded the younger boy, Ri-ki's cheeks flushing as he realized.

Aohi's cheeks weren't any different though, despite being a rising idol, she still wasn't used to the compliments anyone gave her.

"Well, are you?" Ri-ki asked, his mischevious grin turning to that of a soft happy one. Ri-ki felt relieved to smile like that for a bit, epseically with his hyungs being down in the dumps with the girls.

Aohi snorted, unsure of his seriousness deep inside and deciding to laugh it off.

Suddenly, the easy atmosphere of the practice room was sucked out, when Jake returned, a weird look on his face. Aohi and Ri-ki instantly jumped away from each other, just now noticing their close proximity.

"Manager wants us up." Jake spoke slowly, still suspicious of the two and what he had possibly walked in on.

"Well, that's us," Aohi replied, standing up and dusting off the imaginary dust on her pants.

"C'mon, Ki-ah."

"Ki-ah?" Jake mumbled, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Ri-ki and Aohi, just what happened while he was gone that the two were all buddy-buddy?

Ri-ki just nods, standing up as well, using the wall as a support. Aohi looked on with a slight smile on her face, she was satisfied that she didn't have to fight with one of the boys today. (except Jake, of course.)

It meant, to her, that she was making progress, and she was happy with that.

Aohi hopes that Ri-ki's friendliness wouldn't last just for that day, because she intends to keep her promise to Ri-ki, and it can't happen if they're going back to being awkward.

She walks towards the door, bag in hand as Ri-ki tailed after he like a puppy. Ri-ki and Aohi left that room giggling with each other like the teens they were.

Jake just looked at the pair, tilting his head like a confused dog.

For once, Aohi thinks, that maybe, just maybe, the boys could learn to accept her.

#˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑰𝑺 𝑨𝑶𝑯𝑰!#enhypen ot7 #enhypen 8th member #enhypen x oc #enha x oc #enhypen #enhypen added member #enhypen au #enhypen fic #enhypen extra member #enhypen female oc #enhypen eighth member #enhypen addition #enhypen oc

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carolmunson · 2 years ago

Text

wish i had a river (part two)

here it is, the part two i said i wouldn't write. if you missed it, here is the first part - wish i had a river this is very much an eddie munson fanfiction, it's mostly from his perspective and follows his story through his eyes and actions. 'you' are mentioned and seen in this fic, but for the most part, it's all eddie all the time. cw: minors dni, adult themes, some smut references. angst. hurt/comfort. lots of mentions of poverty/hunger, sleep deprivation, all around eddie having a bad time. cigarettes/mild drinking but nothing inherently like -- bad? idk. unpopular ship mentioned. i did NOT proof read this.

The alley behind Macy's was a safe haven. Cold, a blue black, poorly paved, with nothing but the dumpters of other stores and the rats to keep him company. Eddie nursed a cigarette on his third smoke break of the night, two bad customers away from a total nervous breakdown. His anxiety built higher every day, every rush, every icy road report -- more people yelling, more people stressed out, more car accidents he'd have to clean up. Wayne's been in an out of the doctor's office more often and it's looking like he might have to retire early. The cigarette loses it's flame and he curses under his breath when he goes to light it again, the nicotine soothing his lips and tongue with a slow steady burn.

You never got to decorate cookies together on his impromptu 'sick day', you hadn't returned any of his calls. Not that he thought he was off the hook or anything, but he did basically write you a fifty two page love letter. If he had the time he'd come by your apartment to apologize in person but at this point exhaustion had started to over stay it's welcome. He could barely make it to the pharmacy on his nights off to get Wayne's medication. The guys at the auto shop could tell something was starting to go very left, 'cause why was the youngest guy there the one who couldn't keep up anymore?

And Eddie really couldn't keep up anymore.

At least his commission in the shoe section was doubling daily.

The cold bites his cheeks while he finishes his cigarette, tossing the butt on the dirty, uneven pavement and crushing out the flame with his work shoes. He rubs his eyes, heavy and swollen with lack of sleep, with scrubbed fingernail hands and sighs. Just another hour and he can go home, just another hour and it's not a closing shift, he can go home at seven like normal people with regular jobs.

He drops his coat off in the cubby area upstairs, stopping in the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. He inspects himelf, eyes half closing in disappointement while he does -- he looks like a shell of himself. He hadn't picked up his guitar in months, didn't turn the radio on anymore -- opting for silence since it was so rare for him to hear between Macy's, the shop, and Wayne's breathing machine at night.

He takes his hair down, shaking out the curls that had at least dried into waving perfection last night, and gives it a shake before putting it back up in a neat ponytail. His bangs sit on his forehead, a few strands framing his now gaunt face. He practices an awake smile in the mirror before he completely deflates -- one bad interaction, one rude look, one snap from a boss, and he'd lose it. The rawness sat in a lump in his throat, a grenade of tears ready to blow if the pin is even so much as nudged.

The door to the back rooms squeaks open on its hinges, revealing the never ending click of boots, heels, sneakers, and men's shoes on the sining tile of Macy's walkway floors. In the beginning, the scent of the perfume section across the way and the bright lights of jewelry used to be an assault on his senses -- but as Wayne says 'You can get used to anything.'

"You good, Ed?" he hears, and turns his head -- it's Angie. Angie is his favorite coworker because she makes the best and meanest jokes about people. If it wasn't for some nights closing with Angie he would've left this job a long time ago. He'd been keeled over in laughs with a duster in his hand so many times that it almost seemed wrong to abandon her there.

"Yeah," he furrows his brow at her, "Should I not be?"

"Some pretty boy's been looking for you," she says, nodding over to the boots section, "You got another business I don't know about?"

A grin stretches across her frosted red lipstick'd lips, crinkling her overlined and spider lashed eyes. She's what Eddie and the guys at Forest Hills would have called 'trailer park pretty' if she was thirty years younger.

"They would be so lucky, wouldn't they?" Ed smirks back, eyes following her nod and landing on a head of beautifully coiffed chestnut hair, "Harrington?"

Steve's eyes perk up like a golden retreiver, a winning smile spreading across his face with a flash of white teeth in it's wake, "Hey, Ed!"

Angie gasps when she realizes who it is, "Oh shit! Is this the guy that --"

"Shh, shut up Ange," Ed huffs, waving her off while Steve comes up to approach him.

"Hey dude, I was hoping you were here. I uh, got a pretty big collection to get tonight so I figured -- you know, I'd come say hi and ask for your help." It's frustrating how pleasant Steve is. How warm his demeanor radiates to others, his candor, the way that he stands. It's annoying that a denim button under a cozy green sweater looks good on him. It makes Eddie sick that he can pull off wire-rim glasses and still look his age, that he smells like spice but not in a cheap way. A twinge of fear shook in his chest when a seed of assumption planted itself in his head -- was this why you weren't answering his calls? Was Steve Harrington smothering you with Christmas spirit every night?

"Yeah, man, sure," Eddie responds like the world isn't sitting directly on his shoulders, which -- he observed -- were not nearly as broad as Steve's, "How can I help you?"

"I need like, four pairs of Moon Boots," he shrugs, "Guess they're in style again? My sister's and nieces want matching pairs so like -- two in a size 8 and then, if you have it, two in a size 4 kids?"

"What color? We have white, purple, black, some metallics," Eddie lists on his fingers, "Well, maybe not black -- those probably sold out already."

"You got silver? Pink, maybe?" Steve shrugs, "I'm just trying to get these wrapped by tomorrow."

Christmas Eve. Ed had almost forgotten.

"Let me see what we have and I'll bring it out," he offers. He wants to ask about you but it seems too obvious. You must have talked about the fight or about him in general, how else would Steve know he worked here? How else would he know to come looking for him.

Moments later, Ed comes out with four boxes, "I have two in silver and two in pink -- so it looks like your nieces will be matching and your sisters will be matching. Does that work?"

"Oh shit, that's perfect," Steve smiles the same winning smile. Eddie wonders for a moment what it feels like to smile genuinely, it's felt like years since he had. He guesses that when you're Steve Harrington, you must get to smile pretty often. Rich, girls love him, former captain of the basketball team, has a masters degree, painstakingly handsome -- no wonder you called him after your fight. Damn, he would too.

"Is that all?" Ed asks, reaching up to run a hand over the five o'clock shadow speckling his chin.

"No, actually, sorry. I need some like, work boots, if you sell those here -- is that okay?" Steve asks.

"Work boots like, how? Like construction?" he asks, "You're a teacher, Harrington."

"Yeah but my uh, my roommate -- he's not in construction but he's on a whole bunch of terrain for work -- desperately needs good shoes for that," he explains.

"What's he do?" Ed asks, guiding him over to the display of Timberlands and Doc Martens.

"He's a photojournalist -- he's all over the place," Steve answers, "He's worn his sneakers down to the sole and like, swears their okay --"

"Jonothan Byer's is your roommate?" Eddie asks, making the connection. He'd only known him from their photography class they shared in Eddie's second senior year, but he knew enough to know he went into journalism shortly after college.

"Yeah," Steve nods, running a hand through his hair.

"Hm," Eddie looks over the shoes and looks up at him, "If I can be honest -- he's gotta be quick on his feet, right? These are gonna be too heavy for him to be walking around in. You might just want to get him some higher quality running sneakers. There's a Foot Locker downstairs if you wanna check that out? A lot of our sneakers are sold out until next week."

"Hmm, shit," Steve clicks his tongue, "Well um -- could I maybe try a pair?"

"Of Docs?" Eddie asks with a laugh.

"Yeah, of Docs -- I can be hip and cool, too, Munson," Steve's faux defense is charming. Eddie wonders what else you find charming about him.

Part of it feels degrading, kneeling down in front of Steve, lacing and relacing each new and different pair of boots he tries on -- but at this point he's buying seven pairs of shoes and the commission alone will cover at least a month of groceries so he's not complaining.

"So you don't hate me, huh?" Eddie asks, slipping a lighter weight Timberland over one of Steve's argyle socks.

"Why would I hate you?" Steve cocks his head, amber eyes catching in the light.

"Oh, did she not talk about it?" Eddie flushes. Why would you talk about him? Your loser mechanic (maybe ex) boyfriend who works at the mall, and at the auto shop, and sometimes sells drugs.

"Your fight from last week?" Steve raises his brows, "Yeah, she talked to me about it. But I woudn't hate you for that."

Ed tightens the laces up his foot to his ankle with care, "Why not?"

"I mean, you're doing a lot right now," Steve shrugs, "I think it can be hard when you're teaching little ones, especially this time of year, to not get caught up in the magic -- you sort of popped her bubble. But y'know, it was sort of a reminder to her that not everyone has it so good."

"She didn't deserve me yelling at her like that, though," Eddie shakes his head, he can feel the threat of the grenade pin tugging on his heart strings. One false move. One shake. One nudge, and he'll blow.

"You're doing the best you can," Steve offers kindly. Eddie swallows hard, offering him a tight smile.

"Thanks. I'm trying, I'm--" he shakes out the tingle of a cry before tying up the laces, "I'm trying really hard."

By the time Steve checks out it's about 7:15 and Eddie wants nothing more than to go to bed. His back hurts, he's gotta make sure Wayne took his medication, he's gotta eat sleep for dinner for the third night in a row.

"Thanks so much," Steve beams, "This is great, thanks for your help."

"Yeah, no problem dude," Eddie sighs, running a hand over his face again, "Have a good holiday."

"You done for the night?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, just gotta y'know -- grab my shit and go," he shrugs.

"You wanna grab some dinner with me in the food court or something?" Steve asks, balancing the many shopping bags he'd collected this evening in his hands.

"I don't know, dude. I don't wanna keep you or anything," Eddie says. His stomach clenches at the word dinner, his body reacting like a dog who just heard the sentence 'you wanna go outside?'

"You're not keeping me," Steve assures, "C'mon, it's on me."

Before he knows it, Eddie's been corralled into a mall food court, sitting slumped over on the sticky table. He tunes out the shreiks of children, the tinny Christmas music playing in the background of the cocophany of noise that is the mall on December 23rd. His forehead sticks to the leather jacket over his forearm, only lifting it up when he hears the slap of a plastic tray being put down in front of him. He surveys the Burger King in front of him and huffs a laugh, it'd been a long time since he'd ventured into the food court. He almost forgot what fast food looked like after the past few months of thin ham sandwhiches or cold cans Spaghettio's.

"So why didn't you try to swoop in?" Ed asked, toying with a french fry before biting off the end, "When you went to her house the other night?"

He savors the oil and salt on his tongue, warm and crispy on the fry disolving in his mouth while he waits for a response.

"Swoop in?" Steve asks, shaking his head, "No, I wouldn't. We just -- we work together. She's my work friend."

"So you never thought about what the kids say?" Eddie challenges, still trying to keep it light hearted, "How the first grade teachers should get married?"

"Her classroom is across from mine and we make lesson plans together," he assures, "What the kids say is what the kids say. They're six, what do they know?"

"Whatever you say, Harrington," Eddie shrugs.

"Munson, seriously -- she's my friend. She's not my type," he offers. The way he says it stings Eddie, what's not his type about you? You're perfect. You're the best person he knows.

"The card thing though? That was cute. I'm gonna put that in my arsenal if I ever fuck up," Steve laughs. Eddie chest rattles when he realizes that Steve was still there for that. He never even knew your reaction.

Eddie clears his throat, "Did um -- did she like it?"

Steve nods with a lazy smile, "Yeah, she liked it."

"Did she say anything?" he asks hopefully.

"She cried," Steve answered, Eddie leans his head on his hands, "I know that might not be what you wanted to hear."

"I didn't wanna make her cry more," he explains, "I wanted to make her happy."

"They were happy tears," Steve encourages with a nod, "She knows you love her. She loves you, too."

"Then why isn't she answering my calls?" he asks, another fry passing his lips.

"I think she's hurt, a little embarrassed. You know how girls are, they never come right out and say it," he shrugs, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. Ketchup drips out onto the paper mat on the plastic tray with a wet plop, Eddie sighs.

"Did you end up getting anything for her for Christmas?"

"No I -- I can't afford it this year," Eddie rubs his eyes again, more swollen and aching than before. Heat beams through his cheeks in embarrassment, tinging pink and then red.

"Well I had an idea," he offers, "If you're up for it."

"Yeah, go for it Harrington. Shoot," he says, the enthusiasm was greatly lacking.

"Well her uh, her class room needs a lot of repairs and the custodial team isn't really equipped for that. The school'll either bare bones it for her or make her pay for it out of pocket if she asks," he starts, "And she told me you're really handy, y'know, working at the garage and all. So maybe you could take care of her class room this week while we're out for break. I can let you in and everything."

He mulls it over in his head, "That's a really good idea, actually. I could um, I could ask the guys at the shop if I could borrow some tools."

"And there's a bunch of wood palettes in the backrooms at Medvald's. Jon said he's happy to get them out of there for you," Steve says with a smile.

"Oh, so you already talked about this?" Eddie smirks.

"Well, yeah, kind of," he blushes, "I was asking around just to see if it was a plausible kind of thing."

"Definitely a plausible thing," he nods, taking a bite of his own cheese burger. He holds back the moan in his chest from eating something warm and mildly filling after such a long time, "Do you think she'd like it?"

"Oh, Munson," Steve shoots him the 'okay' sign, "She'd lose her mind. All she does is complain about how nothing ever works and everything's falling apart. Doesn't even have new chalk."

"Chalk I can definitely handle," he laughs, "I think I can afford chalk."

He feels a moment of calm wash over him when the van rumbles to life in the parking garage. Finally heading home and going to sleep with a full belly, finally with a plan to make you happy, finally feeling like after the new year things can go back to normal. He flicks on the radio and doesn't even change the station when Mariah Carey's 'All I Want For Christmas' crackles through the speakers. He heard it 700 times today, happy to hear it for the 701st.

It was your new favorite song, after all.

Eddie woke up feeling slightly refreshed on Christmas Eve, the dull ache in his back mildly relieved. He fished into his pajama pants for his lighter, flicking it a few times before getting the fuse lit for his morning cigarette. He stood at the open door, bathrobe tied tight around him, and listened to the hum of Wayne's machine from the other end of trailer. The mug of black coffee in his hands had the bitterness cut by the soft sweetness of cinnamon -- that's what you always did this time of year.

'I like making it a little festive for you, honey,' you'd giggle, 'Don't be such a Grinch.'

He wished he appreciated it more, all the little things you did to try to make him happy. The faces in fruit on his pancakes some mornings, making his old favorites for dinner at your place, 'build your own sundae' nights. Scratching his head, scalp massages, hand massages. You'd call them man-icures so he didn't feel weird about you doing his nails and softening his callouses. He didn't care that it was just a manicure with a stupid name, all he cared about was your cute face when you concentrated on his cuticles. He missed your laugh, the way you tap your pen out to your favorite songs when you're grading papers or writing lesson plans, your elaborate schemes to make learning subtraction more fun. The way you're kind to everyone, all the time, constantly. When he first started taking you out he'd get embarrassed by how forward you were with people, how you'd make small talk with cashiers, or grab someone's hand to tell them their nails looked beautiful.

Maybe in a lot of ways, he wished he was more like you to start.

He took a shower and slipped on his coveralls, opting to be one of two guys in the shop today. Him and George. It was George's garage, and for the past six years, Eddie had always volunteered to be the emergency mechanic on deck on Christmas Eve. He got paid time and a half and never had to wait for the check, he'd always get paid at the end of the day.

He laces his boots before trudging down the hall to wake Wayne, taking off his machine and flipping the switch.

"I'm headed out," he whispers, "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Wayne groans when he sits up on the rickety mattress, "I have a new perscription, not sure if the pharmacy'll be open but would you be able to pick it up on the way back. They called last night but I couldn't make it to the phone, it's ready I think."

"Yeah, I'll grab it on my lunch break Wayne," he softens the more he looks at him, "Have some coffee already to go for you on the table, there's a couple eggs left for you too."

"Thank ya, son," his voice is grizzly, but it still feels like home.

Eddie shivers his way into the shop, George in the office organizing some files. The day was always slow, but there were some cars still in need of fixing so he got right to work.

"Hey George," he calls, knocking on the door.

"Hey kid," he calls back, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, round six," he laughs back. He goes back to the break room and drops off his coat and his back pack. Normally he'd have you to look forward to later with a plate of cookies from your family's Christmas Eve party and some left overs expertly packed. You'd drive an hour and a half to bring it down to him and then an hour and a half back to spend Christmas with your family. But not before he gave you a present, or multiple presents, in the break room when George went out to get a six pack.

"Ed," he calls again, "C'mere when you're done dropping your shit."

Eddie heads over to the office, leaning on the door frame, "'Sup bossman?"

"Someone left a message for ya on the answering machine, think it's the pharmacy," he said, "Ya might wanna give 'em a call, s'probably for your uncle."

"Oh, yeah, I think his prescription's ready," he nodded, "Can I use your phone?"

"Yeah, by all means," he said, pushing it toward him, "Want me to give you a minute?"

Ed shakes his head no, "It's fine, just a quick call." He's got the number memorized by heart at this point, clicking the numbers on the grease stained white plastic buttons while barely looking at the machine.

"Hawkins Pharmacy, this is Debbie," Eddie smiles because he knows Debbie. He likes Debbie a lot.

"Hi Deb, it's Eddie, Eddie Munson," he says, "Calling for my uncle, looks like you called my work. I was gonna come by and pick up his meds on my break, will you guys be open?"

"Oh um, about his prescription Ed..." she starts, and he can hear the hesitation in her voice. The clip in the grenade buried in his chest jiggles slightly, he takes in a breath through his nose.

"What's up?" he asks, his voice his short and curt.

"Well, he changed his insurance recently, as you know and -- well there's a lapse in his coverage right now. His new plan doesn't activate until the first," she expains.

"Okay, and what does that mean?" he says, his palms sweat onto the cool plastic of the phone, his ear sticks to the receiver.

"Basically," she says, and then sighs, "His current insurance can't cover it and neither can is upcoming insurance, so the prescription has to be paid out of pocket."

"Um -- uh, fuck -- okay," he says, a chill courses through him, tightening his veins. The pin jiggles again, "H-how much?"

"For the month?" she asks, "For this prescription it's, hold on, let me check...it's looking like it'll come out to around..." she takes a breath of defeat.

"Around three hundred dollars, Ed," she says softly.

"Three hundred..." he repeats back quietly, "Is there like, is there a cheaper version cause he like..."

His voice cracks, the pin rattles dangerously while his eyes start to sting with oncoming tears, "He really needs these pills, Debbie."

"This is the cheapest option," she says apologetically, "I'm so sorry."

"I'll um, I'll figure it out," he shakes his head, "I'll come by and I'll figure it out. Thanks uh, thanks for letting me know Deb."

He doesn't wait to hear her response before he hangs up the phone, quickly leaving the office to go back to the break room. He sniffles in big shuddering breaths, sweat dripping down his back despite the lack of heat in the garage.

"Kid," George says softly, following behind him, "Hey, Munson. What's goin' on?"

He feels George's big hand on his shoulder, the soft squeeze on the muscle under his skin.

"I can't afford my uncle's medication," he says, the pin jiggles, "I mean I can, but like, if I get his medication I'll be late in paying the gas bill, but if they turn the gas off there goes our heat. Or I can delay the electric bill but if they turn the lights out he can't use his machine at night. So maybe I could like, go out tonight after this and shovel some driveways in the rich neighborhoods or -- I could -- I could --"

The pin falls.

He breaks.

He breaks hard.

Eddie's cries turn to wails, his body shaking with hunger and exhaustion and the unbearable heaviness of having to be himself. The tears pour in droves down his face while he tries to catch up with them, trying to find the words to explain to George that he's okay, he'll figure it out.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay, it's okay," George soothes, his aged face crumpling while he watches Eddie break down in front of him. He pulls him in tight, a hand plopping ontop on his mess of curls.

"Why don't you tell me what's been goin' on? You haven't been yourself for months," he says softly, "Talk to me."

George smells like Old Spice and Newports, it's a scent that's always made him feel safe. Like having a second dad -- well, a third dad, if you count his real dad. He never counts his real dad, though.

Eddie sits down at the table while George takes a couple of beers out of the fridge and places them down in front of them. He cracks them open and settles down, two sets of brown eyes meeting each other.

He begins.

"Well if Wayne was sick why didn't you tell me?" George exclaims, "I've known Wayne longer than you've lived in Hawkins, boy. I would've helped you figure somethin' out. Taking shifts at Macy's? At Christmas time? No wonder you're so exhausted."

"I mean, I'm young. I can do it," Eddie shrugs.

"Those bags under your eyes say you can't," he says matter of factly, "And y'know you shouldn't have to. You're -- damn you're a kid."

"I'm like, inching towards thirty George," he laughs.

"And what about your little girlfriend? She not helping?"

"That's..." he sighs, "That's a whole other mess."

Eddie rehashes the story he told Wayne last week and then Steve's visit from yesterday, "So today I was gonna ask if I could borrow some tools and go in tomorrow or something to fix everything up. But now I gotta figure out how I'm gonna make an extra three hundred bucks for these meds."

"How about this," George starts, "You've been workin' for me a long time. You come early and you stay late. You cover for everyone. You know -- damn -- you know more about cars than I do and I've been runnin' this place for thirty years. How about you take this week off to work on your girl's classroom and I'll see you after the New Year."

"I can't. I need to work, George, I need the mo--"

"How about," he interjects, loud and stern, "You take the week off to work on your girl's classroom and get some rest, and I will pay you for the week. It's not like you're just sittin' on your ass."

"I can do that, that's not f--"

"If you say no again, I'm just gonna fire you. Is that what you want?" George challenges.

"No sir," Eddie quickly shakes his head and shuts his mouth.

"And," the older man continues, "I will cover the cost of Wayne's pills. I'll go pick them up at lunch for 'im and drop 'em off. 'Bout time I caught up with that geezer anyway."

The tears build back up in Eddie's eyes, his mouth lets out a sputtered version of a 'Thank you'.

"You gotta stop pretending like you have to do everything yourself," George's voice holds a fatherly fondness when he gets up and tosses their empty beers in the trash.

"C'mere, kid," he chuckles while Eddie tearily gets up out of the chair and back into the dad like embrace of his boss.

"You got ten minutes, but then we got some cars to fix."

Eddie didn't tell Wayne about the insurance lapse or the pills, even though he was surprised to see George at the trailer park that afternoon. Eddie went home with his tool belt from work, his time and a half, and a little extra that his boss insisted he take with him. Wished him luck on his repairs and that he'd see him on the 2nd.

He was warned that if he didn't rest, Wayne would tell him, and it would mean hell for him at the shop.

Eddie'd already been through hell, so he didn't really want to have to do it again.

Christmas morning came and Eddie woke Wayne up to a cup of coffee and some breakfast.

"Thanks, son," he said smoothly, pushing in his chair at the table in the kitchenette, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he wished back, tapping some cinnamon into each of their cups of coffee.

"What's that for?" he asks before a harrowing cough bubbles out of his chest. He takes a sip of coffee to ease the ache of the rattle in his throat.

"It's just festive, Wayne," he teases, "Don't be a Scrooge."

"Doing anything today?" Wayne asks, eyes casting up to look at the old pictures of a younger Eddie sat on Santa's lap. No longer a holiday where they stayed home and snuggled, where he played with his toys, where there was magic.

"Gonna go fix up my girl's classroom as a gift," he says, picking at his nails, "Thought it'd be a nice gesture."

"She hasn't called ya back, hm?"

Eddie shakes his head, already dressed in the Black Sabbath shirt you got him that he hadn't gotten a chance to properly thank you for. The chain you got repaired hung aroung his neck delicately, the pick hitting his chest in a gentle reminder that you're still here with him. You had to be. He'd know if you just decided to be done with him.

By the time the late afternoon rolled around he hopped in his van after Wayne fell asleep in the recliner. The perk of the holidays was that he could drive around in the rich neighborhoods and no one was out to give him and his car dirty looks. No one was around to be confused that Steve Harrington was hopping into his passengers seat to head to Melvald's. No one was around to be confused as to while they were loading wood from broken down pallets into the ample trunk space.

"Good holiday?" Eddie asks.

"Same holiday it always is," he shrugs, "My parents weren't around so I stayed home. Jonothan went to California with Joyce to go visit Will so he wouldn't have to pay to fly home."

"That's lonely," Eddie mutters, "Sorry dude."

"Don't be sorry, I'm used to it," he looks out the window. Steve looks well dressed for repairs -- a pair of worn in jeans, white on white Air Forces, an Izod half zip sweat shirt -- he might as well look like a father of three, "Have you heard from her at all?"

"No -- I left her a message on her answering machine, but I think she's already up with her family. I don't know what she told them so -- I don't want to bother her parents if they're upset with me," he explains.

"They'd never be upset with you," Steve shakes his head, "They're good people."

"I'm sure they wish on a star every night that she was with you, Harrington," he jokes.

"You'd think, right?" Steve laughs, "No, she told me how much they like you. They think you're so good to her -- you are so good to her."

Steve speaks about you with a fondness that makes Eddie wonder. He softens, looking over at him while he turns down the road to the elementary school, "Do um...do you wish it was you?"

"I already told you, man. I love her to death, but she's not my type," he laughs again, but there's a pain there.

"You keep saying that but like -- are you sure? 'Cause you can tell me it's not weird," he assures.

"She hasn't told you?" Steve asks, brows furrowing.

"Told me what? Did you guys used to fuck, or something?" Eddie asks, his heart hammering, "Did you fuck the other ni--"

"No, no, Ed I'm --" he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm gay," he says quietly, "Like, Jonathan isn't my roommate he's -- he's my partner. I'm gay."

There's a silence there for a moment and Eddie shifts in his seat a red light. Oh, I'm such a fucking idiot. Of course that's why they aren't together. I thought maybe he had a weird dick or something.

"That's y'know," Ed shrugs, "That's cool with me, man. Like, silence equals death and all that."

"Oh, shut up man," Steve laughs and shakes his head, putting his hand up to stop him from talking, "Don't like, do that all shit. I'm just surprised she hadn't said anything."

"If you told her not to, she wont," Eddie's voice drops to something sweet, "She's a good girl like that. Great secret keeper. Great -- Oh, shit..."

When the boys pull into the lot, Eddie's surprised to see a couple more trucks sitting by with their lights on, doors opening at the sight of them. A gruff voice calls out from the dark, a light snow obscuring him and the name on his coverall.

"How long were you gonna keep us waiting here, kid? It's a holiday."

George's gruff voice cuts the silence, a couple of the guys from the shop chuckle in the background. Eddie smiles, a genuine, warm smile -- the kind he envied from a couple nights ago that he saw from Steve. These were people who cared about him, who wanted to help. This was, he guessed, was what Christmas was really about. This was what you were trying to tell him the whole time. His heart breaks all over again, and he swears he can feel the pulse of your heart beat in the guitar pick hanging at his chest.

By the 27th, most of the repairs had been done. The help from the guys was beyond what he could've imagined. They were able to replace part of the roof that had water damage, fix the windows, repair a cracked pane, build a new bookcase, fix the wobble in all of the desks, and yours. Now, he was just adding a new coat of paint after spending the morning chipping off all the shards of it that were falling off. In his backpack was an overflow of new chalk, pens and pencils, markers, crayons, construction paper, pipe cleaners, and glue. The guys went through their kids bookcases at home and donated a slew of new books for the room -- some duplicates, too.

He felt good. He'd gotten two nights of adequate sleep, heeding George's warning that he has to rest. He was able to buy a good crop of groceries and most of the guys from work came by to drop off so many Christmas cookies that Wayne was nervous he'd start losing his teeth too. Now, all he had to wait for was you. For you to come in on Friday and see his surprise when you dropped in for your professional development day with Steve. He wasn't sure if he wanted to leave flowers or gingerbread men with the card but he figured he'd cross that bridge when he --

"Eddie?"

He jumped, nearly falling off the ladder he was on to reattach over head light that had rusted on the ceiling, "Jesus Christ!"

He clutched his chest, letting his heart rate settle down when at the bottom of the ladder, there you stood. His face blushed pink, pulse ping ponging through his wrists at the sight of you.

"Hi, sweetheart," he smiles, "This um...this was supposed to be a surprise."

"Who told you?" you asked, looking around, "About all my stuff?"

Eddie climbed down the ladder carefully, "Steve came to the store, told me that you needed some help. I figured y'know, if I couldn't get you a present I could just -- I could make you one."

"It's not done yet though, I still have to paint and put all your art supplies away," he explains, meeting you in the center of the room. He looks at you and then at the tears in your eyes, the heat rising in your cheeks. You don't say anything, his heart races in embarrassment. Maybe it wasn't enough, maybe you didn't like it. Maybe you wanted to do it yourself.

"And um, the guys from the shop, they uh, they brought books," he says, walking over to the new bookcase, "And I uh, I built this, like, with my hands."

He painted it to match the rest of the decor, a fun bright color that would hopefully draw the kids in to read. You'd mentioned that the got bored with the same ten books and weren't sharing well -- half of the books were falling apart since there wasn't anywhere to put them.

"And uh, I got you some new chalk -- white obviously, but I got you some multi-colored sets cause I know you like to do little sketches on the board during holidays and like, with spring comin' up maybe you could do little flowers or something?" he doesn't realize it, but he's gasping through his rambled sentences. Watching you walk toward him slowly.

"It's okay if you don't like it," he assures, "You can tell me and I can fix it I just wanted to--"

Your kiss feels like a spoonful of summer warmed honey on his cold lips. It trails down his throat and into his chest, down through his fingertips and his toes. He feels your soft hands cup his face, resting against his cold prickly cheeks. He's afraid to touch your face because you haven't given him a manicure yet this week. He doesn't want to scratch you with his rough hands, so he places them around you instead, frowning when you finally break away with a soft click.

"I just wanted to do something nice," he says against your lips.

"This is the best gift ever," you whisper quietly, a little sniffle stifling your cry, "It's very nice."

"Merry Christmas, baby," he smiles, leaning in for another kiss.

"Merry Christmas," you wish between kisses.

He wakes up wrapped up in you, in your sheets, in your scent, peering at you while you sleep soundly next to him. You both had barely made it through the door of your apartment before you both had shed your clothes -- landing on the bed with a mutual 'oof!'

It had been so long since he'd been present. Savoring every soft moan out of your mouth, every shake of your thighs, everything whine, every clench, the way you'd rake your nails down his back, the way you'd pulse when he held your hand. You both laid there together after round one, eating cookies in bed (which you'd allowed just this once), while he told you everything. About how hard it had been taking two jobs, how he'd completely shut down, about Wayne's insurance lapse, about the guys at work, about Steve coming to Macy's, about how much he loved the gifts you got. About how he cried the night he yelled at you but was too afraid to face you after because he felt so awful. He listened when you told him that you just needed some time, but that you felt awful that you weren't there when he needed you.

"Need you all the time," he mumbled between heated kisses, "Never lettin' you outta my sight."

His eyes rolled and his toes curled when you took him in your mouth, letting you take the lead. He gasped and writhed, whining for more when your tongue swirled and sucked, showing him how much you missed him. How you'll always take care of him -- and he made sure to show you how he'll take care of you back.

Round three was long and drawn out, slow and sensual, close and quiet -- your boom box playing low static by the end.

Your eyes opened, stretching out when you see him sitting up in bed.

"You heading out?" you yawn.

"No, baby," he smiles down at you before laying back down, losing himself under the covers with you again, "I have the week off, so I'm intending to spend every moment I'm not with Wayne, in this bed, with you."

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