âThere are real constellations: ancient, steady. And then there are fool constellations, loud stars strung together by the insecure, lighting nothing but each otherâs egos.â
Or in which:
y/n fools herself into believing she could ever stand a chance against the Casanova himself.
Remus Lupin, or Moony to some, was a man of many talents. He had a way of knowing what you would say before you thought it, and he could smell the rain from miles away.
But his tragic flaw, his downfall was his insecurity. He was insecure about his scars, insecure about his limp after a full moon and insecure in his role in his friend group.
Remus walked like he was apologizing to the earth for taking up space. Every step careful, every smile hesitant, as if heâd borrowed it. He kept his hands in his pockets like they might betray how badly he wanted to reach for someone. For you. For Sirius. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe that was the tragedy of Remus Lupin: too unsure to believe he was wanted at all.
But you never saw him in the way he saw himself. To you, Remus was the stars, constellations even. Strung together by his scars that made him even more beautiful. However you werenât the only one who thought the same .
Sirius Black. Black was the type of person who shifted the cosmos with a smile. He was the type of person who demanded the universe to stop, and it would. For even the galaxy knew that Sirius Black was a force to be reckoned with. He didn't fall in love, he crashed into it full speed.
He loved Remus in a way that terrified him; not because it was wrong, but because it was real. Because when Sirius looked at Remus, he didnât see a werewolf, or a prefect, or even a friend. He saw gravity. And Sirius had always been at war with gravity.
Everyone knew Sirius black was in love with Remus Lupin except for Remus himself, and no one knew you were in love with Remus Lupin except James Potter. But Remus never looked back. Not at you. Not really. He kept his eyes low and his heart lower, convinced that love, real love, was something for other people.
And maybe thatâs why it hurt. Because to you, Remus wasnât broken. He was a map of the night sky, not perfect, but full of meaning. And you were willing to get lost in him.
You were the moon.
Steady. Soft. Always watching but rarely mentioned.
Not the brightest in the sky, not the loudest, but constant. You pulled at tides no one noticed and gave light when the world turned dark. And you loved him. Merlin, you loved him.
Remus was the Earth; solid, quiet, full of life he didnât believe he carried. He moved with that gentle kind of sorrow that made you ache to hold him, to anchor him. And he never asked you to orbit him but you did. You always had. Silently. Faithfully. Lovingly.
But Earth doesn't look at the moon.
Not really.
Earth looks at the sun.
Sirius was the sun. Sirius Black was the sun and you hated him for it. Brilliant. Burning. He walked into a room and the air bent around him. People turned their faces toward him without realizing. Even Remus.
Especially Remus.
You watched it happen the way a moon watches an eclipse. Slowly, helplessly, beautifully. The way Remus leaned a little closer to Sirius when he laughed. The way Sirius touched him like it was second nature. The way Remus glowed in Siriusâs orbit brighter, bolder, more alive.
You wondered if that was love.
Or gravity.
Or both.
And you? You stayed where you always were. Quiet in the dark. Spinning around a boy who didnât know the moon had a heart too. One that ached every time he smiled at the sun.
Some nights, you swore Remus felt your pull.
The way heâd look up at you: tired, soft-eyed, arms crossed as he leaned against the window in the dormitory. As if he could sense something out there in the dark, calling to him. As if your quiet devotion could ever be enough to make him stay still.
But he never stayed long.
Because in the morning, the sun would rise, and he would turn his face toward it like he was made to.
Sirius always burned brightest when Remus was near. They had a gravity of their own, wild, chaotic, beautiful in a way that hurt to watch. And they fit together like a secret you werenât meant to know. You could feel it in the small things. The look Remus gave him when he thought no one was watching. The way Sirius always found him first in a room, like the rest of you were just placeholders.
You learned to swallow your feelings like phases waxing, waning, disappearing altogether when they held each otherâs gaze a little too long.
You wondered if the moon ever got tired of circling the earth.If she ever wanted to be seen instead of just reflected.You wondered if Remus even knew what he meant to you.
But you never said a word. Because loving Remus felt sacred â like a temple you werenât allowed to enter, only kneel before.
So you stayed where you were.
In his orbit.
Always near, never enough.
And every time he ran toward the sun, you told yourself it was okay.That someone like you was never meant to be held.Only admired from a distance.Only felt in the quiet.
AN: my first time writing⊠idk if I should continue, I hope it makes sense!! Comment your ideas for sure though.
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In which: The love of your life is getting married, but you're watching from the isle.
There wasn't a single person who wasn't smiling.
And really, who wouldn't?
Weddings were where smiles gathered. Love was in the air, tucked between the white roses and flickering candles, woven through every whispered blessing and tearful laugh.
The love of your life, James Potter, was waiting at the altar.
He wore the biggest smile you had ever seen. Tears glistened behind his glasses, and his hands trembled.
Your eyes matched his.
Tears.
The vows fell on deaf ears. All you could do was stare at the love of your life realizing nothing would be the same.
And on her finger, he placed a ring.
The same ring he had shown you three months ago.
The same ring you had helped him choose.
You had laughed in the jeweler's shop, turning it beneath the light and telling him Lily would love it. James had trusted you because he always trusted you. He had hugged you so tightly that your ribs ached, thanking you over and over.
You had gone home and thrown up.
Now, Sirius stood beside you, close enough that the sleeve of his suit brushed yours. His jaw was tight. He wasn't smiling.
He knew.
Of course he knew. Sirius had known before you did.
He had seen it in the way you watched James fly, your eyes following him even after his broom disappeared into the clouds. He had noticed how every person you charmed at parties looked a little like him beneath the right light. He had held your hair back the night James announced the engagement, pretending you were sick from the firewhisky because that lie hurt less than the truth.
Everyone had wanted you once.
Everyone except the person you wanted.
Or so you had believed.
A tear slipped down James's face and you were transported to last night.
James on your doorstep.
James soaked through from the rain.
James without his glasses, his eyes red and wild as he begged you to tell him not to do it.
"You can't be here," you had whispered.
"I know."
"You're getting married tomorrow."
"I know."
"Then what the hell are you doing?"
He stared at you as if you had asked him why the earth turned.
"Tell me not to."
The words had been so quiet that, for one merciful second, you thought you had imagined them.
Then he stepped closer.
"Tell me not to marry her."
Your heart stopped.
"You're drunk."
"I'm not."
"Then you're scared."
"I am." A broken laugh escaped him. "I'm terrified."
"Everyone gets nervous before their wedding."
"This isn't nerves."
James reached for your hand. His fingers were cold.
You should have pulled away.
You didn't.
"I've spent years doing what I thought I was supposed to do," he said. "Chasing the right girl. Becoming the right man. Building the right life. And now it's here, and all I can think about is you."
"James."
"Tell me you don't love me."
You stared at him.
It would have been easy. Four words. One clean cut.
You had always been a brilliant liar.
But not with him.
Never with him.
"You're marrying Lily."
"Tell me you don't love me," he repeated, his voice cracking. "Look at me and say it, and I'll go."
You looked at him.
At the boy who had shared his cloak with you in first year. The boy who had kissed your bruised knuckles after every fight. The boy who had slept beside you on the floor of the hospital wing while Remus recovered from another full moon.
The boy who had broken your heart without ever knowing it belonged to him.
"I can't."
Something collapsed in his expression.
Then James was holding your face between his hands, his forehead pressed to yours. His breath shook against your lips.
"Ask me to stay."
You closed your eyes.
"Please," he whispered. "Please love me enough to be selfish."
You almost did.
God, you almost did.
But somewhere across the country, Lily Evans was sleeping with her wedding dress hanging beside her. She trusted him. She trusted you.
And James was frightened, confused, and standing on the edge of destroying the life he had spent years building.
So you became what you had always been for him.
A friend.
"You love her," you said.
"I love you."
"You're scared."
"I love you."
"Go home, James."
His hands fell away.
For one terrible moment, neither of you moved.
Then he nodded.
"Right."
You wanted him to fight harder. You hated yourself for it, but you did.
You wanted him to refuse. To kiss you. To tell you that you were wrong and choose you anyway.
Instead, James put his glasses back on.
At the door, he paused.
"If you ask me tomorrow," he said without turning around, "I'll still leave with you."
Then he walked into the rain.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
The room erupted.
Applause thundered around you as James kissed Lily.
Your hands came together because everyone else's did. Once. Twice. Again. Each clap felt like dirt striking a coffin lid.
Sirius caught your wrist.
"You're bleeding."
You looked down. Your fingernails had carved crescents into your palm.
It didn't hurt.
Nothing did.
James and Lily turned toward the aisle, radiant and married, and the guests rose to their feet. Lily's smile could have warmed the whole room. She deserved this happiness. She deserved a husband who had not stood on someone else's doorstep the night before.
James looked at you.
His smile faltered.
Only for a heartbeat.
But Sirius saw it. You felt him stiffen beside you.
James's gaze fell to your clenched hand, then lifted back to your face. There it was again - the question he had asked in the rain.
Ask me to stay.
He was waiting.
Even now.
You could say his name. You could ruin everything before the ink dried. James would come to you; you knew it with the awful certainty of prophecy.
So you smiled.
You gave him the brightest, most convincing smile in your vast collection. The smile that had broken hearts across Hogwarts. The smile that had earned you your reputation, hiding the pathetic truth that only one person had ever possessed yours.
James understood.
His face went still.
Then Lily tugged gently on his hand, and he looked at his wife.
The moment passed.
He walked by you without a word.
You made it through the photographs.
You made it through dinner and Peter's rambling speech. You laughed when expected. You flirted with a stranger whose name you immediately forgot. You even danced with Lily, spinning her beneath your arm until she was breathless with laughter.
The truth settled within you, cruel and permanent.
Through the window, you could see James. Lily's arms were looped around his neck. His hands rested at her waist.
But he was looking outside.
Looking for you.
At the edge of the grounds, you glanced back one last time.
James stood framed by golden light, surrounded by everyone he loved. From a distance, he looked perfectly happy.
Perhaps, in time, he would be.
Perhaps you all would.
You had loved James Potter enough to let him go. That was what you would tell yourself in the years to come. That you had been noble. That you had saved four lives from the wreckage of one selfish decision.
But as you stepped into the dark, you finally understood.
In which: The love of your life is getting married, but you're watching from the isle.
There wasn't a single person who wasn't smiling.
And really, who wouldn't?
Weddings were where smiles gathered. Love was in the air, tucked between the white roses and flickering candles, woven through every whispered blessing and tearful laugh.
The love of your life, James Potter, was waiting at the altar.
He wore the biggest smile you had ever seen. Tears glistened behind his glasses, and his hands trembled.
Your eyes matched his.
Tears.
The vows fell on deaf ears. All you could do was stare at the love of your life realizing nothing would be the same.
And on her finger, he placed a ring.
The same ring he had shown you three months ago.
The same ring you had helped him choose.
You had laughed in the jeweler's shop, turning it beneath the light and telling him Lily would love it. James had trusted you because he always trusted you. He had hugged you so tightly that your ribs ached, thanking you over and over.
You had gone home and thrown up.
Now, Sirius stood beside you, close enough that the sleeve of his suit brushed yours. His jaw was tight. He wasn't smiling.
He knew.
Of course he knew. Sirius had known before you did.
He had seen it in the way you watched James fly, your eyes following him even after his broom disappeared into the clouds. He had noticed how every person you charmed at parties looked a little like him beneath the right light. He had held your hair back the night James announced the engagement, pretending you were sick from the firewhisky because that lie hurt less than the truth.
Everyone had wanted you once.
Everyone except the person you wanted.
Or so you had believed.
A tear slipped down James's face and you were transported to last night.
James on your doorstep.
James soaked through from the rain.
James without his glasses, his eyes red and wild as he begged you to tell him not to do it.
"You can't be here," you had whispered.
"I know."
"You're getting married tomorrow."
"I know."
"Then what the hell are you doing?"
He stared at you as if you had asked him why the earth turned.
"Tell me not to."
The words had been so quiet that, for one merciful second, you thought you had imagined them.
Then he stepped closer.
"Tell me not to marry her."
Your heart stopped.
"You're drunk."
"I'm not."
"Then you're scared."
"I am." A broken laugh escaped him. "I'm terrified."
"Everyone gets nervous before their wedding."
"This isn't nerves."
James reached for your hand. His fingers were cold.
You should have pulled away.
You didn't.
"I've spent years doing what I thought I was supposed to do," he said. "Chasing the right girl. Becoming the right man. Building the right life. And now it's here, and all I can think about is you."
"James."
"Tell me you don't love me."
You stared at him.
It would have been easy. Four words. One clean cut.
You had always been a brilliant liar.
But not with him.
Never with him.
"You're marrying Lily."
"Tell me you don't love me," he repeated, his voice cracking. "Look at me and say it, and I'll go."
You looked at him.
At the boy who had shared his cloak with you in first year. The boy who had kissed your bruised knuckles after every fight. The boy who had slept beside you on the floor of the hospital wing while Remus recovered from another full moon.
The boy who had broken your heart without ever knowing it belonged to him.
"I can't."
Something collapsed in his expression.
Then James was holding your face between his hands, his forehead pressed to yours. His breath shook against your lips.
"Ask me to stay."
You closed your eyes.
"Please," he whispered. "Please love me enough to be selfish."
You almost did.
God, you almost did.
But somewhere across the country, Lily Evans was sleeping with her wedding dress hanging beside her. She trusted him. She trusted you.
And James was frightened, confused, and standing on the edge of destroying the life he had spent years building.
So you became what you had always been for him.
A friend.
"You love her," you said.
"I love you."
"You're scared."
"I love you."
"Go home, James."
His hands fell away.
For one terrible moment, neither of you moved.
Then he nodded.
"Right."
You wanted him to fight harder. You hated yourself for it, but you did.
You wanted him to refuse. To kiss you. To tell you that you were wrong and choose you anyway.
Instead, James put his glasses back on.
At the door, he paused.
"If you ask me tomorrow," he said without turning around, "I'll still leave with you."
Then he walked into the rain.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
The room erupted.
Applause thundered around you as James kissed Lily.
Your hands came together because everyone else's did. Once. Twice. Again. Each clap felt like dirt striking a coffin lid.
Sirius caught your wrist.
"You're bleeding."
You looked down. Your fingernails had carved crescents into your palm.
It didn't hurt.
Nothing did.
James and Lily turned toward the aisle, radiant and married, and the guests rose to their feet. Lily's smile could have warmed the whole room. She deserved this happiness. She deserved a husband who had not stood on someone else's doorstep the night before.
James looked at you.
His smile faltered.
Only for a heartbeat.
But Sirius saw it. You felt him stiffen beside you.
James's gaze fell to your clenched hand, then lifted back to your face. There it was again - the question he had asked in the rain.
Ask me to stay.
He was waiting.
Even now.
You could say his name. You could ruin everything before the ink dried. James would come to you; you knew it with the awful certainty of prophecy.
So you smiled.
You gave him the brightest, most convincing smile in your vast collection. The smile that had broken hearts across Hogwarts. The smile that had earned you your reputation, hiding the pathetic truth that only one person had ever possessed yours.
James understood.
His face went still.
Then Lily tugged gently on his hand, and he looked at his wife.
The moment passed.
He walked by you without a word.
You made it through the photographs.
You made it through dinner and Peter's rambling speech. You laughed when expected. You flirted with a stranger whose name you immediately forgot. You even danced with Lily, spinning her beneath your arm until she was breathless with laughter.
The truth settled within you, cruel and permanent.
Through the window, you could see James. Lily's arms were looped around his neck. His hands rested at her waist.
But he was looking outside.
Looking for you.
At the edge of the grounds, you glanced back one last time.
James stood framed by golden light, surrounded by everyone he loved. From a distance, he looked perfectly happy.
Perhaps, in time, he would be.
Perhaps you all would.
You had loved James Potter enough to let him go. That was what you would tell yourself in the years to come. That you had been noble. That you had saved four lives from the wreckage of one selfish decision.
But as you stepped into the dark, you finally understood.
Summary: Reader is a children's librarian in desperate need of a roommate. What happens when their potential roommate is a (quite attractive) genius FBI guy?
This fic is in progress, but here's the chapters so far.
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summary: a bad shift doesn't allow you the right to give jack attitude. someone has to teach you a lesson.
tags/desc: 18+ MDNI, afab!reader, fem!reader, R2!reader, minor medical inaccuracies but who gaf, rude!reader as a plot device, mom and dad are fighting, established relationship, implied age gap, maybe mean!jack, brat taming/angry sex (it lowkey got away from me LOL), unprotected piv (no hat no cat!!), hair pulling, fingering, dry humping, spanking, name calling/pet names (baby, sweetheart, brat, etc), slightly proofread
wordcount: 5.8k
a/n: finally posting a regular jack one shot its been MONTHS HELLO!! this one lowkey made me blush and run laps around my room and also my first time at writing full on brat taming LMK IF ITS BUNS!!!!! đ requests are openâ!! reblogs are a writers best friend
âDonnie, what the fuck is this?â
âToxicology test.âÂ
âYeah, without any heavy metals testedâŠâ
âYep⊠your student must have miswrote the order and it got tested wrong. You have to write another.â Donnie pursed his lips and handed you a new, fresh lab order sheet. Already knowing of the massive fuse you were bound to blow at any second.
Fucking med students, slipped under your breath as a war path led you to a frazzled med student. The crease between your eyebrows grew deeper and the heat in your neck rose to your cheeks. Nails digging into the skin of your palms as your only form of decompression to keep you from screaming profanities in their direction. Something about the lab today caused a massive delay, so you were already waiting two hours for a simple heavy metals test.
âYou.â Tone seething as you grab the thin fabric of black scrubs. A rough tug, yanking a startled med student from the counter of the hub.Â
Not giving them a moment to process what is happening, a soft jab of your finger into their chest. As if your touch has enough power to make them cave in on themselves. The twitch in your eye is enough to tell them they are in deep. Itâs either all that frustration pent up inside of you, or the less than optimal four hours of sleep that you were running on.Â
âWhat did you do with the order for Rebecca Washingtonâs lab?â
They stutter, you cut them off before they can explain themselves further.
âBecause all I have in my hand is a toxicology testâ Last time I checked, we did not test for blood alcohol and opioids in a god damn heavy metals test.â Volume rising louder than acceptable and venom dripped from your lips as you waved the paper in their face. It was long gone from neat, crinkled in your grip. Giving it one last shove into their chest, before stepping away.
âRedo it or stay out of my face for the rest of your fucking med school career.â Your eyes finish your thoughts with a sneer, turning yourself away. âAnd fix your fucking handwritting, my four year old niece has better hand writing than you.â You had a particularly heavy sailor mouth today.Â
The air is thick as you march away, turning your breathing ragged. Your trail could have left burn marks on the slippery linoleum. A few nurses and CNAs eye each other at the fresh eruption that occurred in front of them. By the next shift, everyone is sure to know how you blew up at a med student.
You thought getting the chance to teach med students would be fun, fulfilling even. You loved being taught and having a mentor. You anticipated it being a bit stressful, but thisâ it was a different kind of stressful. No one warns you of the strain that forms in the back of your head when you have to focus on patients and babysit a small group of 26 year olds for twelve hours. The day had been piling up on you. Mistakes from med students, entitled patients, losing a patient, lack of a full meal. You were at your wits end. The only way you were able to properly emote your frustrations was onto other people.
Your charged stomps slowed down as you leaned against the counter of the nurses station. Catching your exhausted body on the edge, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Two more hours, and then you can go home, is your mantra of choice to get through the rest shift.
âMaybe wanna lighten up on the interns? Before you scare them away into a different department. Or profession.â Robbyâs sudden interjection pulled you back into reality, he leaned against the counter with you. Arms hugged around his chest and glasses hanging low on his nose bridge. A pitiful smile curled onto his face. He was just as tired as you were, but in comparison, you are winning the crash out olympics today.Â
âWant to tell me what happened? Because Iâm not quite sure what constitutes cursing out someone in front of their colleagues.â He asked, tilting his head to try and meet your gaze.Â
A deep huff left your chest, straightening your posture for your attending. Fingers running through your hair and giving your scalp a brief massage to ease the headache. His eyes had that lookâ one that said: chill the fuck out. Or, thatâs the only way your mind could interpret it. Your brain is stuck in fight or flight mode; everything feels like a constant jab at your competence. The tight thread holding you together canât take an infamous Doctor Michael Robinvitch lecture.Â
âThey fucked up the order! I mean itâs med school 101 to know how to properly write a lab order and send it away.â
âTrue, but itâs their first week. Things happen. Thatâs the ups and downs of teaching. Canât teach well if youâre always blowing up over the small things. Itâs important to rememberââ
âOh blow me Robinavitch.â Turning away from him with a scoff. He really was one to talk; you could have sworn of the countless times he had to give you a stern talking to.
Never in your time working at PTMC have you ever had that kind of bite. Especially with Robby, on a normal day you were obedient under his words. Robby turned to look at Dana, who shook her head and never broke her focus on the ipad in her hands.Â
âWell sheâs got quite the potty mouth today.â
Robby sighed, watching as you walked into another trauma room. Picking up your next case, terrorizing your next med student. His hand reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Swiping through the screen to bring up Jackâs messages.
Robby: Your girlfriend is on a rampage today.
Jack: What the fuck? What happened?
Robby: Well, she told me to blow her after she verbally abused a med student.
Robby: And you know I like to be wined and dined before going to the bedroom.
Jack: Jesus. Iâm picking her up, Iâll be there tonight.
The last hours had flown through the emergency department. Night shift staff steadily trickled in to relieve the day shift of their duties. It is a rare night off for Jack. He posted himself up at the nurses station, chatting up with Lena and Dana as he waited for you to emerge from the locker room. Jack kept his eye on the locker room door, just so he can be the first to see for himself how to day put you through the ringer.
âYouâre kidding?â He asked, keeping his voice low to avoid the chance of you walking into their conversation.
âMhmâ told them to fix their hand writing and everything. I caught the poor kid writing their ABCs in the breakroom.â Dana recanted the events of the day to Jack with a small, amused smirk on her lips.Â
âThatâs not really like herâŠâ Jack pressed his lips in a straight line, already thinking of the lecture he was to throw at you about respect. He tries not to be that guy in your relationship, knowing you want a partner not a father. But at a time like this, it gets away from him and he feels the need to remind you of the importance of respect and humility within the profession.
âGo easy on her, it was a rough day for her.â Danaâs eyes and eyebrows jutted to point in the opposing direction behind Jack.
Heâs quick to turn around and face you, crossing meaty arms over his chest and putting on a happy smile for you. Heâs not surprised you were not returning his smile. The corner of your lips drooping down and your eyes had lost most of their glimmer. Trudging to Jack with your backpack hung over your shoulder lazily, he could see how tense you were.
âHey baby, how was yourââ
First stopping at Jack, shoving the bag into his arms, and beelining for the ambulance bay doors. Dismissing his presence as if he was any other person on the side of the street. Blazing a path of wrath. His eyebrows knit together, surprised you had to gall to ignore him like that. Poor Jack, he is no exception to your attitude today.Â
âGood luck with that.â
The beginning of the car ride is quiet, only the hum of the engine and click of the blinker filling the void of silence. Jack wanted to make an attempt to talk to you again. Ask what he can do to make it better, offer an olive branch to spare him from your claws. But he knew how you were, you need to decompress. He let the silence stay, opting for silent forms of his affection by opening the door for you and taking your bag. As he let the door close behind him, you already disappeared into your apartment. Left alone in the living room, dimly lit by the floor lamp. Slipping his boots off, discarded neatly by the door compared to your sneakers, as if you had thrown them away when you walked in. Jack thought this was how the rest of the night would go, even though you knew he wasnât keen on ending the day with silence or bitterness. He was very clear in every argument you had, neither of you is going to bed without talking it out.
Jack placed your bag on the bench by the door, sitting to massage the area around his prosthesis. You emerged from the lit bedroom, scrubs removed and changed into your normal house clothes. One of Jackâs old shirts and cotton shorts. He figured now is better than never to talk about how youâve been acting all day. Pulling himself up, he moved to the kitchen counter, the one that overlooked the sink. He leaned onto it, watching as you floated around the kitchen. You were trying to avoid as little eye contact as possible, but he is searching intently for your eyes. He took a deep breath to talk first, in hopes your mind was clear enough to have a proper conversation.
âSo, I heard you had a little run in with a med student. And Robby.âÂ
You stop what youâre doing, grabbing on to the edge of the counter. You lull your head back and take a long, irritated breath.
âWhy? Did your boyfriend tattle on me?â You quip.Â
Obviously, you didnât clear your head enough, or at all. His head hung low, developing a headache. Taking a long, deep breath to engage with your temper.Â
âNoâ he didnât tattle,â yes he did. âHe expressed⊠some concern about your performance today.â
Shaking your head, refusing to answer as you fill up a glass of water. The little angel in your head agreed, you were rude to that med student. Youâre sure you made the same mistake before. And you knew you didnât have enough tenure in the ED to be given a pass of the âbitchyâ teacher, you were only an R2. But this isnât about you, itâs about how everything around you chose today as the day to be inconvenient. Is it too much to ask for one day of the year to go in your favor? Itâs the principle, although you were most likely using that justification loosely.
âYou canât talk to an attending like that. If it was anyone else, you could have gotten written up. HR meetings arenât all that fun you know?â Jack ducked his head to try and meet your eyes. Keeping your stare down at the very interesting cup of water.Â
âBoohoo, itâs not like I cursed him out.â
âYou told him to blow you.â
âExactly. Not a swear word said.â
Before Jack could try to get another word in, you turn yourself away and shuffle into the bedroom. Closing the door behind you with a louder thud than necessary. He puffed, frustrated that you werenât giving him the time to actually talk things out with you. Itâs not to say heâs caught off guard by your behavior. Youâve had your off days, you werenât always sunshine and rainbows. And you especially arenât so mouthy with him. Something about today was getting on his nerves quicker than he should let it. He wasnât the one that messed up your lab order or tried to lecture you during a heavy shift, so why canât you spare him?
Jack follows you into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. It also let out a loud thud, his irritation coming out in little pieces. That strain formed in his head, handling the door with unnecessary power, grinding his teeth with his clenched jaw. Jack did not want the first interaction of the day with you to be brewing into an argument.
âHoney, you canât walk away from me when Iâm trying to have a conversation with you.â
âReally? Because I did right now.â Your voice comes out steady, that little hint of bitterness hot on your tongue. It becomes a stand off in the middle of the bedroom. Hands on your hips and narrowing your eyes at him as he steps a little bit closer to you. âAnd from what I remember, you used to be just as bad too, so I donât know why youâre coming at me on such a high horse!â
Jack tensed his jaw, any more he was going to need to go to the dentist for teeth grinding. That stung a little bit, maybe a lot. Jack isnât proud of how he used to be, pre-therapy and post-the loss of his wife. But he grew from that, and you saw how that growth turned him into the man he is today. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips thin, holding back from letting your words get to him.
âIâm not lecturing you. You have to understandâ yelling at med students and your attending. Thatâs not something we do.â
âNot what we do? Last time I checked Jack, you aren't my attending! I donât have to listen to this or you.â
âIt doesnât matter if Iâm your attending or not, itâs my obligation as an attending to help you learn that throwing a tantrumââ His voice gets rougher, less collected than he typically is. Jack attempts to put a caring hand on your shoulder, but you swat his hand away.
âDonât talk to me like Iâm a child Jack!â
âI have to because youâre acting like one! But what else should I expect from my immature girlfriend, hm?âÂ
You took the highest offense being called immature, especially when Jack knew that was a sore spot in your relationship, being immature compared to him. The anger bubbles over, the heat of the work day follows you into your own home, unwelcomed. Without thinking, you raise a hand to the air. Quickly, just want to give him a taste of how his words make you feel. Before it can even come close to his face, Jackâs hand catches your wrist and puts it into a tight hold. The pads of his fingertips press down deep enough to feel your racing heartbeat. He yanks you towards him, chest on chest, closing the gap that has existed between you for hours.Â
As you try to get the next words out from your lips, a rough hand catches the back of your head and pulls you in for a deep, sloppy kiss. Teeth hitting and drool starting to leak from the corner of your lips as Jack carries out an attack on your lips. Tongue forcing your lips apart and invading the wet cavern. It erupts a moan from your throat that you wanted to keep secret. Jack knew exactly how to render you speechless. The hand on the back of your neck tangles into your hair, keeping a tight grip. Your hand that started out balled into a fist relaxes and rests on his chest, slowly running up to hook around his neck. When he pulls away, panting for air, his gaze is heavy on you. It turned dark and vicious. Those barbed-wire lined walls you had up all day were crashing down around you. And Jack had a sledgehammer.
âJackâŠâ Melting into putty in his arms as you whimper as he pulls away.
âWhat happened? A little kiss made you all soft?â He flips you around his hold, pinning the held wrist behind your back. He guided you to the bed, shoving you to bend over the soft mattress. That rough grip in your hair pushes the side of your face into the mattress, only able to see just over your shoulder.
You whine when he presses his crotch into your cotton covered ass. The tent in his pants prodding at the curve of your ass and rutting up. You are sure Jack could feel that drip in your panties forming a little wet spot. He continues to rub his bulge up and down your ass, catching it occasionally on your increasingly wet mound. Taking his hand away from your hair and moving it next to your head, keeping himself up as he leans over you.Â
âWho do you think you are⊠trying to slap meâ fuck. After all I do for youâŠâ His hot breath floods the back of your neck, panting like a dog. You want to respond, tell him heâs wrong, but you choke on moans.
You try to move your hips up, feel more of him on your aching cunt. But his hips and hold on your wrist keeps you still. When he pulls himself away, the grip on your wrist is free, feeling the ache slowly blur into your body. You want to move, whip yourself around and give him a piece of mind for being so forward with you. But the raw, agitated energy emanating from Jack was enough to keep you down, growing compliant. Jack grabs the hem of your shorts, tugging them down your legs. A large hand kneads the skin, pinching and watching the heat manifest as color from his touch. Humming, you lean yourself into his touch. A finger loops around the fabric of your panties that bars him from seeing your leaking pussy. Coating his knuckle as he pulls the fabric down and away from you. You close your eyes in hopes of getting a blissful night to alleviate the stress of the day. One sudden strike at your ass brings you back down from the clouds. Crying out Jackâs name as he rings another slap on to burning skin.Â
âI pick you up from work, pay your rent, make you cum whenever you askâ ân you canât even give me the decency of respect when I talk to you?â Another harsh, personal, spank to your abused flesh.
You bury your face into the sheets, muffling the painful gasps that mix with needy moans. Soaking up the little tears that prick the corner of your eyes. You twitch in response to his hands on your body, your nervous system preparing to feel swipes at your bare ass. He pauses, must be taking in the sight of your skin littered with the faint outline of his hand. The result of your moody spirit. You lift your head away from the bed, sniffling a little as you bite your lip to wish away the pain.Â
âJack⊠please..â Ground your elbows into the bed and try to bring yourself up. You couldnât bear to not be able to look him in the face. Even though you struggled to confidently make eye contact.
âNow you want to be nice? âS too late for that honeyâŠâ Jack clicks his tongue disapprovingly. One hand now holding your hip while two fingers swipe up the slick on the folds of your pussy. You gasp, relaxing your body back into the mattress.
He doesnât wait for you to catch up with him, plugging his fingers into your cunt. Your walls immediately flutter around him, wanting to suck him in deeper. He holds off, wanting to go at his own pace. Only reaching to the second knuckle, and pumping thick fingers shallowly inside you. You hum with this pace, it was just enough to scratch that growing itch in your core.
âLook at you⊠all happy Iâm playing with your pussy. Could have had this way earlier if you cooperated, brat.â His hand on your hip left to swat at your ass again. Eliciting a cry of his name with a moan as the pain mixed with the pleasure brewing inside you.Â
âThere she isâ my good girl. God, youâre so easy.â He loves the sounds you make for him. The words brewed inside your head, because you havenât been good at all. You were being a pain all day to anyone within the vicinity. And it got you to this position, bent over the bed at Jackâs mercy.Â
His fingers slide deeper past your lips, the palm of his hand flush with your skin when he reaches as deep as he can. Shaking beneath him when his pace grows faster, the sinful sound of your wetness squishing on his fingers. It really is punishment, pay back, the way the tip of his fingers brush over that sensitive spot inside you. But he doesnât bother to stay there, saying hello and quickly leaving. You groan, frustrated that heâs toying with you and not giving in to what you want. Not that youâre asking, more so expecting it. Pushing your hips back to deepen his pace, he quickly slips his fingers away from you. Shaking his head in disapproval.Â
âYou just canât be patient, can you?â You can hear his belt collide with the hard wood floor, and the sound of heavy fabric falling.
A tingle goes up your spine, like a spidey sense. Because you have been in this kind of position before; where he picks you up by the thighs and fucks into you while you hang over the edge of the bed. Your feet once flat on the floor, press up on to tippy toes, waiting for him to use his strength on you. A few seconds go by, and he hasnât moved. Your eyebrows knit together, looking over your shoulder and seeing him standing behind you. Arms crossed, looking down at you with an expectant expression, his cock so casually stiff in the air.Â
âJack, what are you waiting for?â you ask with a frown.
He leans over you, arms caging you in as the brace onto the bed. His lips dip close to you, giving you words for only you to hear.
âYouâre going to come at me with an attitudeâ when I did nothing to you by the wayâ and expect me to do all the work?â humming into your ear, expecting one of your smart ass responses. He looks down to your glistening slit, he wants to dive in so bad and show you a good time. But there is a lesson to be taught here.
You stutter over yourself. You never had to ask Jack to do anything to you; he knew how to treat you and what you liked, what made you feel good. You felt silly having to plead to him to fuck you properly.
âYou can reach baby, Iâm not doing any of the work for youâ since you think you know better than me.âÂ
I never said that⊠is all you can mumble. Jack thought you would put up a fight, but so easily compliant in this state, he watches as you push yourself up by the toes more. Your slit that had been weeping from the lack of attention, glistened in the bedroom light. It brushes the tip of his cock ever so slightly, making you hiss at the small amount of friction. You struggle to even catch him between your folds, constantly bouncing on your toes. Jack bites through his smirk, enjoying the sight of you. Helpless and impatient, willing to do as much as it takes just to feel him inside of you. Itâs pitiful, the comparison from earlier in the night to now. Defiant of Jack, ready to slap him when he threw it back at you. Now youâre a dripping, whimpering mess, so eager to feel the slightest touch of his cock against your pussy.
âIâ I canât do it Jack⊠I canât reachâŠâ You deflate into the bed, sad whining muffled in the sheets.
It is pathetic, you are a doctor for christ's sake. You should be demanding him in this instance to fuck you right now. But Jack loves to watch. The way your ass jiggles with the bounce of your toes, trying to rock back to try and catch his cock between your folds. He let this go on for what felt like 30 minutes (it was only 3 minutes). Jack let out a deep sigh, a once stern hand turned comforting on your hip. Brushing his thumb against the skin and cooing to you. He moves his hips forward just a little pit, the tiniest tough of his tip against your cunt. It was nothing but everything at the same time. It sent that buzz of anticipation up and down your spine. As you start to rock yourself again, both of Jackâs hands press down your hips pressing you into the bed again. He is still in control here, heâll go in when heâs ready. In a tortuous pace, his cock slips in between the folds. He holds in a deep groan from finally feeling your warmth enveloped around his cock. You cry out a soft whimper from the slow stretch of your pussy. Even with how slow Jack was going, his girth is like retribution. A brutal size you thought you have gotten used to by now. He reaches the halfway point and stops, prompting another frustrated groan from you. Clearly have not learned about the stakes of your predicament yet.
âHow bad do you want it, sweetheart?â He asks. You mumble into the mattress.
He pulls out just a little bit. âAh-ah, I saidâ How bad do you want it?â
Lifting your head away from the sheets, your head slumps over. Jack can see you werenât in the mood to be good still. But he doesnât have to act anymore, he knows the more you wait, the more time spent not getting pounded.
âI want it really bad, Jack...â you whine.Â
âYeah? What do you have to say then?â
âGod, not this now, Jack. Just fuckingââ cut off by that same swat on your ass. It shuts you right up.
âWanna try that one more time?â you nod. âWhat do you have to say to me?â from the tone of his voice, you can tell Jack does not want to ask again.
Shamefully keeping your eyes down, âIâm sorry that I tried to slap you and argue with you, Jack. I wonât do it againâŠâ
Jack hums but doesnât answer. Making a show of him considering your apology. He should really make you work for it; force you on to your knees and show how sorry you are with his mouth. But he canât deny, Jack is growing just as impatient as you were. This night should have ended with sex without all the fighting and huffing. His hand glides down to your thigh, brushing the skin.
âYou gonna apologize to Robby and the med students too?â giving you a warning squeeze. If you answer correctly, everyone will be happy.
Nodding your head, you peak over your shoulder. Eyes damp from tears and hopeful to get the proper kind of release. It is enough to make Jack crumble for you all over again. At last, Jack hums with approval. A happy tap on your skin as he scoops his hands under your thigh and hoists your legs up. He grips right under your hips for the best leverage. Jack is really testing how much strength and stamina he has left at this age. You yelp as the sudden pull moves your hips up, meeting Jack at a better, and deeper, angle. Pushing himself so deep it punches up into that sensitive spot. He finally gives in to that satisfying rock of his hips, letting out a deep groan.This is all both of you wanted. Impaling you with such a force you felt like Jack was going to split you in half. Sweet moans spur him on more, releasing all of the night's irritation on to your helpless cunt.Â
Jack revels in the feeling of your velvety walls dragging along the veins of his cock. Squeezing down and taking the shape of his girth, like you were made to be filled by him. The whole predicamentâ arguing, him mandling you, and fucking you with such punishing force, it made your pussy drool and tighten for him. He can tell exactly what youâre feeling just by the way your walls clench around him.Â
âSuch a good girl, you love getting your pussy filled by my cock, huh?â He says through gritted teeth and low groans.
You canât give a coherent response, too caught up in the motions all you can do is offer him slutty moans. The tips of his fingers dig into your plush skin, an iron grip dragging your body like a toy on his cock. Jack musters enough strength to lift every so slightly. The new angle makes all the difference as the top of his cock bullies up on your soft spot. The impact forces you to see fireworks in your hazy eyes.
âShitâ Jack!â Your body lurches forward from the force of his hips.
âFuuck, sweetheart. Feel so good around me, need you to cum fâme.â Jack occasionally had to adjust his grip on your hips, trying so hard to not get lost in the pleasure that he drops your legs on accident. âI know youâre closeâ rub that pretty little clit for me.â
Your hand snakes under your body, delicate fingers shakily running small, fast circles are the bud. Eyes pressed shut and moans pouring from your lips. That knot deep down came rushing to the surface with each thrust of his hips. Your release is slowly coaxed from deep within you, your thighs and knees pressing against Jackâs, locking him in place. It feels like a wave rushes over your body, your orgasm crashing through you in ripples. Body shaking while your hands grip on to wrinkled bedsheets.
âOoooh god, Jack!â
âThatâs it baby, make a mess on me.âÂ
Jackâs hands slowly let go of your hips and help in letting your feet meet the floor. As soon as you limp in bliss, he lets his pace become self-indulgent. Cock pistoning in and out of your pussy while your walls still clench around him in post-orgasm glory. Pushing himself deep, right to the hilt, he lets his seed slip inside you. Flooding your silky walls with hot, white cum. It leaves a satisfying warmth with you. Jack moans and crones through his release, a thrust or two to push all of his load deep within you. He tries not to fall on top of you when the fog clears from his head. A little drips of cum leaking from you as he pulls out, half-limp cock slick with a mixture of your desire and his cum.Â
âJesus, Jack.â
âI should be saying that to you. All that huffing, puffing, and yelling. If you wanted it so badly baby all you had to do is ask.â He teased, a lazy smirk on his lips.
Crawling up the bed a bit, you manage to turn yourself over for the first time supporting your weight on your elbows. Panting heavily as you take in the sight of a sweaty, fucked out Jack. It is an insatiable sight; little beads of sweat dripping from his neck to his chest, the tuft of hair above his cock damp with body fluids. Jack eyes the scheming smirk on your face. Lifting your foot to poke at his stomach.
âI donât know if I learned my lesson yet. You werenât the most⊠convincing.â Pursing your lips and trailing your eyes from his firm stomach, all the way up to his lingering eyes.
âYeah? I guess I have some more gas in the tank to teach you, brat.â
Jack grabs your ankle and yanks your body back towards him, a high and excited squeal coming from you.
âHi.â
The med students whips around, eyes widened and already shaking. A trauma response from the incident a couple of days ago. You had a basket in your hand, filled with muffins, fruit, and a random energy drink you picked up from the story. Holding it out from them, you try to come off with a gracious expression rather than guilt.
âIâm sorry for how I spokeâ treatedâ you earlier this week. I was out of line and youâre still getting the hang of things around here. I was stressed and I should not have taken it out on you. âSorry for yelling at youâ basket?â Giving them a crooked smile and handing the basket to them.
It follows with a short conversation, exchanging necessary apologies and coming to an agreement it was an off day for everyone that day. You felt embarrassed having to apologize for behavior that could have been completely avoidable if you remembered what emotional regulation skills are. In the end, you are glad no bridges were burned. An ease settled over your body as the med student walked away with a softer smiler than before.
âAnd whereâs my basket?â Robby pipped in.
âJack said you would rather have an eight pack over a basket. And I think I would be in more trouble if I brought beer into the workplace.âÂ
Robby didnât care to cover up the deep huff of laughter. Bringing a pat to your shoulder as he shook his head.Â
âI need to know what Jack did to get you to come to your senses. Could use it on you if you ever feel like shooting at me again.â Robby said contently.Â
You scrunch your face, âNo you donât, Robby.â
âWhy not?â he asks, les confused more intrigued.
âYouâd have to ask Jack for permission. I know you guys are close, but I donât know if youâre close enough to share.âÂ
You turn on your heels and walk away quickly, trying to stifle the little giggle inside your throat. Robby runs his hand over his mouth and beard, slowly catching up with what you were putting down. He scrunches his own face, shaking his head to clear away the dirty thoughts.
Faye Lupin-Black, the Casanova of the Grifindor tower, falls for Neville Longbottom.
AN: finally chapter 1!! Please tell me anything
Faye Lupin Black had given up on love long before she'd ever experienced it.
It wasn't heartbreak that convinced her. It was her fatherâs.
Growing up with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin was like living inside one of those ridiculous romance novels the girls in Ravenclaw whispered about after curfew. They still looked at each other like they'd survived the world just to end up in the same room. They laughed too loudly, argued too dramatically, and somehow managed to make even making tea seem intimate.
Faye had spent seventeen years watching a love story no one else could possibly live up to.
So she stopped expecting anyone to.
That didn't mean she didn't enjoy the chase.
Flirting was fun. Dates were entertaining. Kissing was nice enough.
Commitment?
Absolutely not.
Unfortunately for the maleâand occasionally femaleâpopulation of Hogwarts, Faye loved to dabble.
It wasn't uncommon to hear about the poor soul who'd fallen into her orbit only to have their heart handed back to them a few weeks later. She wasn't cruel. Quite the opposite, actually. Faye was painfully honest from the beginning. People simply had an irritating habit of believing they could change her mind.
They never did.
By now, her reputation had spread through Hogwarts faster than the latest Daily Prophet headline.
Some admired her.
Some avoided her.
Some were convinced they would be the one to finally tame Faye Lupin Black.
She wished them luck.
"You've got half the seventh-years asking if you're coming to Hogsmeade this weekend."
Faye looked up from where she sat between Fred and George at the Gryffindor table.
"Only half?"
Fred snorted into his pumpkin juice.
"Your ego's showing."
"It never left."
George leaned across the table.
"I've got five Galleons riding on you rejecting Thomas Corner by Friday."
"You bet on my love life?"
"We bet on everything."
Before Faye could argue, someone stopped beside the table.
"Sorry to interrupt."
The voice was quiet but steady.
Neville Longbottom stood beside George, a wooden crate tucked beneath one arm and a potted plant in the other.
"I brought the Shrivelfigs you asked for."
George immediately brightened.
"Brilliant! You're a lifesaver."
Fred took the crate with surprising care.
"We owe you."
"You don't owe me anything." Neville smiled, small but genuine. "Just don't forget they need watering every other day."
"We won't."
"You will."
"We probably will."
Neville chuckled, shaking his head before turning to leave.Faye watched him disappear into the crowd.
"...That's Neville Longbottom?"
Fred frowned.
"What about him?"
"I don't know."
She'd expected... something else.
Instead, he'd walked over, delivered exactly what he came to deliver, earned the twins' respect without asking for it, and left without sticking around for praise.
How odd.
How... refreshing.
George caught the look on her face.
"No."
She blinked.
"No?"
George pointed a warning finger at her.
"You are not allowed to flirt with Neville."
Fred nodded gravely.
"We like him too much."
Faye scoffed, though the corners of her lips tugged upward.
"What? You think I'm going to corrupt him?"
Fred looked genuinely offended.
"Corrupt him? No."
George nodded in agreement.
âWe think you'll flirt with him because he's pretty."
"I do not flirt with people because they're pretty."
The twins stared at her.
She sighed.
"Fine. Sometimes I flirt with people because they're pretty."
"Exactly."
"But Neville?" she asked, glancing toward the doors he'd disappeared through.
"He's... different."
Fred smirked.
"There it is."
"There what is?"
"The face."
She frowned.
"What face?"
"The one you make when you're curious."
"I am not curious."
George snorted.
"You've looked over there three times."
"Faye scoffed, though the corners of her lips tugged upward.
"What? You think I'm going to corrupt him?"
Fred looked genuinely offended.
"Corrupt him? No."
George nodded in agreement.
"We think you'll flirt with him because he's pretty."
"I do not flirt with people because they're pretty."
The twins stared at her.
She sighed.
"Fine. Sometimes I flirt with people because they're pretty."
âExactly."
"You've looked over there three times."
"I was observing."
âYou were staring."
"I was appreciating the scenery."
"The scenery left five minutes ago."
Faye opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Annoyingly, George wasn't wrong.
There hadn't been anything particularly extraordinary about Neville Longbottom.
He wasn't loud.
He wasn't trying to catch anyone's attention.
He hadn't stumbled over his words or hidden behind the twins, either. He'd simply walked over, delivered the plants, exchanged a few words, and left.
Confident.
Not in the way Quidditch captains were confident, always chasing applause and admiration.
It was quieter than that.
As though he didn't need anyone to tell him he was good at something because he already knew.
Faye found herself wondering what else he knew.
Fred nudged her shoulder.
"Don't hurt him."
She blinked.
"I haven't even spoken to him."
"We know."
George grinned.
"But we also know you."
Faye rolled her eyes, standing from the Gryffindor table.
"I'll have you know, I have absolutely no intention of flirting with Neville Longbottom."
Fred called after her as she walked away.
"You've already said his full name twice!"
She froze for half a second.
"...Have I?"
The twins burst into laughter.
Faye muttered something that sounded suspiciously like traitors before disappearing into the bustling corridor.
She wasn't interested.
She was simply...
Curious.
And curiosity had always been her greatest weakness.
summary: You keep disappearing. Remus keeps noticing. And somewhere along the way, Spidergirl is beginning to sound more familiar every day.
tags: fem!reader. spidergirl!reader. spiderman au. friends to lovers. slowburn. genderbend spiderman x gwen stacy? blood and violence mentions related to this universe.
series moodboard
part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven, part twelve, part thirteen, part fourteen
Steveâs afraid to hurt you. You just have to ease him into you it.
contents: steve harrington x reader; reader with a vagina and breasts; newly established relationship; boyfriend!steve; just the tip trope!!!; mentions of painful intercourse; reader is referred to as a good girl once!; hung!steve <3; sorta size queen reader <3
minors, do not interact!!
authorâs note: short n sweet lil thing for u⊠hope you enjoy <3
âCan I be honest?â you murmur against Steveâs lips.
Heâs half dressed under you, and youâre nearly nude on top of him. The bed dips under your knees as you sit prettily on his lap, your underwear turning translucent with each kiss you exchange.
Steveâs fingers adjust on your plush hips. Heâs on Cloud Nine, hardly even listening. âHm?â
You laugh a little, pulling back just a smidge. Steveâs eyes are unfocused as he opens them slowly to look at you.
âYouâre much more patient than I thought youâd be.â
He grins lazily. âYeah?â
âYeah. Think youâre a little too patient, maybe.â
He blinks, eyes still cloudy, love-struck and drunk on you. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
You sigh, then lean in again. âNothing,â you whisper, catching his lips in yours.
Steve doesnât push it, though he makes a mental note for later. Heâs a little too worked up to think clearly right now, anyway. You grind down on his pelvis, swallowing a moan that he canât hold back. Youâre patient with him as he redirects you to his thigh, and you placate him by riding it for a while.
Steveâs so kind, pressing kisses along the column of your neck. âTake what you need, honey.â
You pause. âYou mean it?â
His tongue darts out to taste the salt on your skin. âMhm.â
Gently, slowly, you pull his cock out of his underwear. Itâs a shock that he even lets you.
Hereâs the thing: Steve knows youâre going to break in two whenever he finally gets himself inside of you, and heâs simply not in the game of doing so. In fact, heâs always sort of diverting your attention to any part of him that isnât his dick.
Youâve become intimately familiar with his hands, his fingers, his lips, his tongue. And heâs returned the favor â explored you all over with precision, not a spot left untouched, not a trick unlearned. He studies you, commits you to memory. He murmurs that heâs taking his time with you, that heâs in no rush.
You canât really say the same. Youâve been with him, officially, for just over two months. Heâs given you at least forty orgasms, and heâs let you give him zero in return.
Personally, you donât think itâs very fair.
Steveâs whimpering as you stroke him, biting his lip and doing everything in his power to not bust just from a fucking hand job. Itâs the first time heâs let you give him any attention, and itâs pushing him into hyper-gear. His whole body feels aflame, each tendon straining against the pleasure that every fiber of his being wants. Heâs lost in you, his eyes drifting shut as you take care of him.
You manage to knock Steve out of his stupor by suddenly swiping the tip of him through your petal-soft folds. He gasps, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You both moan, ragged and rough, and it takes all of Steveâs self restraint to redirect your hips again. He opens his mouth to scold you, but you beat him to it.
âJesus Christ, Steve, please?â
Your tone makes his cock pulse in your hand. Sweat beads at his hairline, his cheeks pink as he tries to steady his breath.
âUh-uh,â he says. Calm. Measured. âBaby, you know I ââ
âThe tip, then,â you plead. âJust the tip, Steve, I swear. I know I can take it. Need it so bad.â
Your hand strokes him again and he moans, teeth piercing his lip.
âI ââ
You press your lips against the shell of his ear and lower your voice just a tad.
âSteve, I can be so good for you if youâd just let me.â
His mouth falls open. His fingers flex against your hips. âBut â you are so good for me.â
âWell, let me be good-er.â
He rolls his eyes, exhaling a laugh through his nose. âGot you that worked up, huh?â
You hum, kissing down his jaw. âImagine how stupid Iâll go when you finally fuck me.â
Now it clicks.
âIs that what you meant when you said Iâm too patient?â
You return to pumping him slowly, and he swallows hard.
âMhm. Your worst quality.â
Steve forces himself to get serious. He tilts your chin up with the bridge of his nose, making you look at him, while one of his big hands covers yours to stop your movements.
âI donât want to hurt you.â
Youâre so serious. âItâs going to hurt. And thatâs okay.â
He frowns and cups your jaw, shaking his head a little. âNo, itâs not.â
He sees that youâre getting shy, looking away from him. It takes you a moment to find your words.
âI want to be shaped by you. I want you to make it a perfect fit.â
Somehow, itâs all at once the most blasphemous and romantic thing Steveâs ever heard.
Heâs stunned by it, in fact.
âIâm sorry,â you start, but Steve cuts you off.
âThe â the tip? Only?â
You smile. It endears him. âI can settle for that. I just â I want you.â
Steve shivers. Youâve positively rewired his brain chemistry with a singular phrase.
You can hardly take two fingers while he preps you for it over the next twenty minutes. Praising you, always so kind and gentle with you as he works you through it.
âTaking it so good, angel⊠thatâs my girl, yeah?â
He eventually fishes a condom out of his nightstand. You boost his ego, watching with wide, blown pupils as he rolls it on.
âItâs pretty,â you mumble.
âPretty?â
You move to straddle him again, the head of him knocking into your clit. You jolt, and Steveâs cock kicks.
âYes, Steve. Youâre very pretty.â
He nuzzles his nose against yours and presses another gentle kiss to your lips. âYouâre prettier.â
âStop stalling.â
He runs his hands up your thighs and settles them on your hips again. He takes a deep breath.
âRelax for me, baby.â
By the time Steveâs popped inside of you, youâre both sweating, moaning, gripping onto each other tightly as you pant into each otherâs mouths. Your hot, wet cunt strangles the tip of him, begs him to go in deeper.
âFeels so good.â His voice cracks from the exertion of keeping his hips still. âYouâre so gâ goddamn beautiful.â
You clench around him even tighter. He lets out a strangled yelp, burying his head into the apex of your neck and shoulder. He busies himself with sucking a hickey into your skin, savoring the taste of you and trying to stave off the overwhelming need to shove every last inch of himself inside of you.
And then â cruelly â you sink down further.
Steveâs eyes and head roll back immediately. His thighs shake, a needy, desperate sound finding his way past his kiss bitten lips.
âHoney â honey ââ
âCanât stop myself,â you whimper, rocking gently, managing another half-inch. âYou feel so good, Steve.â
His eyes rake down your chest, doing a double-take at your tits before setting his eyes lower. The evidence of your struggle is clear, and Steve hates what the sight does to him. Youâre so stretched out around him. He knows it hurts, yet youâre a mess between the legs, even soaking the part of him thatâs not inside of you with honey-sweet arousal.
âHoly shit,â he mumbles.
You take advantage of his gaze to lean back in his lap, giving him a better view. Slowly, almost meanly, you fuck yourself on his tip.
Steve doesnât know where to look. Your thighs and stomach quiver with each movement. Thereâs a wet sucking noise each time he pops out and pops back in. Your eyes roll, your back arching, tits sitting prettily at eye level.
âGorgeous,â he moans breathlessly. One hand snakes between your legs, pressing his thumb to your clit, trying to soothe the pain. âLook so fuckinâ good like this ââ
âI know,â you moan, pussy tightening from the praise. The ghost of a smile sits at the corner of your lips, all smug.
âDonât get cute,â he groans, his hands moving to grip your ass. âStill just the tip, babe.â
You lean forward, pressing your dewy forehead against his. âHelp me take the rest, then.â
Just the thought makes his cock throb, and you wince at it. Still, though, you keep moving, gently taking as much as you can â hardly over an inch â and pulling needy noises out of Steve.
âFâ fuck â n-next time,â he pants, strangled moans interrupting him. âNext time, I promise ââ
Your hand moves downward, gently wrapping around the rest of his shaft. Steve cries out, his body shaking, his hips accidentally jutting upwards.
âShit!â you breathe, your movements stammering.
Steveâs heart shatters.
âHey, hey, hey,â he coos, lifting you off of him. He tenderly cups your pussy with his hand, the warmth soothing it. âIâm so sorry, honey. Letâs stop, yeah?â
You shake your head adamantly, huffing at him.
âSteve Harrington,â you pant, settling yourself over his cock again, âI am making you come tonight, and so help me God, it better be from my pussy.â
His eyes widen and his cock kicks again as you slowly sit down on him. He simply nods, too turned on to speak and even a little breathless. You have him so whipped for you.
âYouâre perfect,â he strains.
You kiss the tip of his nose. âLetâs make sure of it.â
"In plain sight" means in a place that is clearly visible. Ex: "the way you felt about Spencer Reid, was a feeling hidden in plain sight." And for you, feeling hidden and exposed around that genius was torture.
Warnings: ANY chapter with NSFW will have a tag and a warning in here, therefore there will be NSFW content in this series(sexual or graphic violence).
DISCLAIMER: The reader does not use a name, occasionaly being called by "she" "her" and "cupcake" as Derek named her. While most dialogue is of my own creation, some dialogue is taken directly from the show as a matter of course, due to the type of work I am creating. Characters found in the current series not found within Criminal Minds(US) are of my own creation.
This series is written during the first season, beginning at episode 4 (Plain Sight, yeah), real timeline of 2007.
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You had made fast friends with Embry, Quil, and Jacob after moving here, but it wasnât until a couple months in that you learned (or found outâ thanks Quil) about their shapeshifting tendencies. And it wasnât until two months ago that Embry pulled you aside at a bonfire one night to express his undying love in the form of an imprint bond. You were terrifiedâ youâd never even had a boyfriend! And now one of your closest friends was basically telling you that you guys were tethered for life. Embry had told you that this could look however you wanted⊠he would love to be with you, but would be more than happy to stay friends as long as you wanted. Forever, if that was what you wanted. In your panic at the whole situation, you told Embry you wanted to stay friends. He masked his disappointment well, but was a devoted friend, never overstepping or asking for more in fear of making you uncomfortable or pushing you away.
Sure, Embry was totally cute, and you had found yourself admiring him in more ways than one, but you had to stay friends. Not because you liked someone else or werenât interested in commitment. It was because of your vaginismus. What guy would ever want to date a girl that had so many issues with sex? You could never do that to Embry. He had to be free to explore this part of life that was so important to young guys. You would just be a burden, always stopping due to pain or clamming up from the nerves. And so friends you stayed.
Fan fiction was an incredible outlet for romantic hopes you couldnât act on. Recently, you found yourself diving into the Tumblr rabbit hole that is smut. The possibilities explored through writing were insaneâ youâd seen porn, sure, but this always seemed to focus on the man in the situation. It never caught your interest, let alone turned you on. But thisâ this writing by random strangers online stirred feelings you didnât know you had.
You were horny.
It was tough to act on anything because of your inexperience. You tried touching yourself, but didnât find much sensation. You thought about toys, but shied away at the thought of having to hide something so blatantly sexual in your bedroom. What if your parents found it?
Thoughts like this raced through your mind as you sat with Emily on her couch watching a rerun of Greyâs Anatomy. Suddenly, a cacophony of footsteps charging through the front door pulled you away. The boys were back from patrol! Emily got up to start serving lunch while you lingered in the doorway of the kitchen, ready to help her if need be but able to join the boysâ conversation from the table. You must have caught them mid-chat.
âNo way you did it right, dude,â said Paul. âIf she wasnât shaking, it wasnât real.â
âCâmon, man! The ladies canât get enough of this,â countered Jared. âIâm like a sex master.â
This was met with a round of teasing and punching from the rest of the guys. Apparently, Jared was getting restless waiting for his imprint bond to kick in, so heâd taken to Tinder to satiate his needs. The guys seemed to think he hadnât satisfied his partner.
He continued, âRight when they start to clench up, you throw in a twist and start pounding. Thatâs what does it.â This seemed to align more with the male-centered videos youâd watched, and less with your favorite fics, but what did you know? You were a virgin with a vagina that refused to be penetrated whoâd never even had an orgasm.
âYou got it all wrong,â said Quil, âif the bed ainât rattling from the start, sheâs probably bored.â
You cringed internally at the thought of Quil ramming it into some poor, unsuspecting girl with no warm-up.
âYou guys are such show-offs,â Embry chimed in, shaking his head as he picked at his muffin.
âOh yeah? How about you enlighten us to the Embry technique, then,â challenged Jared, eager for the conversation to pull away from his own practices in bed.
âGirls like it gentle, and you canât be changing shit up when theyâre close. You have to just pick something that works and stick to it. And foreplay is key. Donât be jamming it in as soon as the pants come off, Quil.â Embry spoke. The guys let out impressed huffs as you felt your face warming.
Now that sounded a lot more like the writing you had read. Maybe Embry really knew what he was talking about. Maybe he could give you the feelings youâd read about⊠and he was pretty cute. You probably wouldnât have to persuade him much, either, with the whole imprint thing. As the conversation between the guys changed to car repairs, you were stuck fantasizing about Embryâs skills, and whether they were as good as he let on.
____________________________
Another week passed, but this was full of knowing glances from Emily as you found yourself drooling over Embry. How could you not? His bronzed lean body was never wearing a shirt, and he was basically in love with you. Of course, his words to the guys about pleasuring women had never left your head. Youâd even attempted taking care of yourself multiple more times to the thought of him, but time and time again, you were reminded how inexperienced you were with your own body as you were left unsatisfied.
You and Embry sat on his bedroom floor playing Mario Kart while waiting for Quil to arrive for your geology study session. When you drove your kart off the track and into the water for the 3rd time in 40 seconds, Embry laughed over at you, âEverything okay?â
His voice was laced with the smallest hint of genuine concern.
âJust have a lot on my mind is all,â you responded, dropping your controller as the race ended.
âYouâre gonna pass this test, I know it,â he turned to you. âYou have like the best grade in class, donât stress.â
âItâs not about the test,â you laughed, flattered by his praise.
âOh⊠Anything you wanna talk about?â he prodded.
There he sat, shirtless and adorable, and all you could think about was how his warm skin would feel against your own.
âHave you ever⊠nevermind,â you started but then chickened out.
âWhat is it?â he chirped. âIâm an open book, Y/N.â
You bit your lip as you thought. Of all the people on this Earth, Embry was the one you trusted the most. You shut away the anxiety that told you he only wanted to be friends. He imprinted on you. You had him wrapped around your finger, and there was nothing to be scared of.
âHave you ever had sex?â you finally questioned, burying your face in the excess fabric of the hoodie you were wearing. Embryâs hoodie.
Unable to see his face, you detected a hint of teasing laced in excitement in his tone.
âYes, I have.â
âWhat⊠what is it like?â you stammered.
Seeing your extreme nerves, Embry made a point to speak calmly and confidently in attempt to allow you to open up more.
âIt feels good,â he commented. âAs long as you are with someone you like. Why do you ask?â
âBecause-â you stopped yourself, questioning if you should press for more information. âI just- I heard you guys talking about it the other day and Iâve always wondered what stuff like that feels like, but I canât do it by myself.â You rambled the last part and felt a hot blush rise up your neck and face. Had you said too much?
Embry smiled. You were just curious, he realized. No, he could tell by your blush and fidgeting fingers that it was more than that. You were horny.
âWell, what have you tried?â he questioned.
âEmbry! Iâm not gonna say it out loud!â Humiliation started to rise at the thought of detailing your previous attempts out loud.
âWhy not? Itâs something we all doâŠâ
Your mind wandered to an image of Embry touching himself, causing a hot stone to settle in your stomach.
âMaybe I can give you some tips,â he added.
You decided in that moment to be brave and share. âI havenât even tried that much, to be honest. I just use my hand but it never feels like anything. I have to be doing it wrong but I canât find anything online about how youâre supposed to.â
âThereâs no perfect way. You just have to try doing different things and see what you like. Hereâ what turns you on?â
âI donât knowâŠâ you started, pondering. âI guess kissing?â
âOkay,â he started, trying to suppress the need to aww at your innocence. âWhat else?â
âMaybe like, muscles? Tan skin? I donât know,â you started rambling out your thoughts,â I like watching you wash your car,â you spoke before you could catch yourself. Silence overtook the room as you slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide in horror at what you just said.
A few seconds later, Embry smirked, âI turn you on?â
Well, too late to back track now.
âI just mean, whenever you guys were talking in the kitchen about sex, and like, you seemed to know what you were talking about⊠I donât know.â You sighed in defeat.
âItâs okay, Y/N, you turn me on too,â he added.
Your eyes snapped to his in shock.
âI do?â
âOf course! Youâre my imprint. Everything you do turns me on,â he admits, now blushing slightly himself.
âI never knew,â you add.
âWell, duh. I didnât want to make you uncomfortable since you want to stay friends.â
Wow, Embry really was a good guy. He repressed his own feelings for the sake of yours. Maybe it was time to revisit the whole just friends thing.
âSo what does this mean?â you start.
âNothing, we can just keep being normal. We can just stay friends, like you want.â
âBut, what if I donât want that anymore?â you suggest sheepishly.
He looks at you stunned, too afraid to press in case you retreat. You will need to take the lead here.
He is breathless as he replies, âThen you need to tell me what you do want.â
âI thinkâ I want to try having sex. With you.â
Now it was his turn to be stunned.
âSeriously?â
You just nodded, waiting in anticipation for his next move. There was none. He was shocked into silence, so you did something you never thought you would be doing. You kissed a werewolf.
At first it was just a peck, but when Embry snapped out of his haze, he took a gentle lead. He grasped your chin between his fingers, guiding your lips back onto his. His skin was soft and smelled like cocoa. His other hand reached up to caress your waist, an act that sent tingles down to your toes. He pulled away.
âAre you sure? I need you to be 100% sure,â he whispered.
You spoke one word that gave him all the confidence he needed.
âYes.â
With this, he leaned back in, mouth dancing over yours before poking his tongue out and licking a stripe across your bottom lip. You sighed in contentment. Youâd kissed a couple of boys before, but none of them felt like this. This was gentle, this was lovingâ this was hot.
Embry felt you squirm closer, so he took the chance to lay you back on his bed, leaning over you to deepen the kiss. Your body writhed against his, but he didnât rip your clothes off like you thought he would. Instead, he just kept kissing you. Anticipation grew in your stomach as you grew needier for more. In a strike of boldness, you reached a hand down to grasp him over his shorts. You missed, grazing the side of him and landing on his inner thigh, but he got the hint.
Pulling away, he asked âWhatâs the farthest youâve gone before?â
You thought it may be best to lie, but chose honesty.
âThis,â you spoke.
âHey,â he started, sensing your nerves. âNo need to be embarrassed, I just need to know where to go slow.â
âMaybe I donât want to go slow,â you argued.
âItâs your first time, sweetheart,â he deadpans. You blush at his nickname. âI am going extremely slow.â He said this in a manner that told you you had no choice in the matter. He did know more about this stuff, maybe you should trust him.
âWhere should we start?â you settle.
âDo you want to take your shirt off?â
Pushing away the nerves, you nod and sit up so he can peel your (his) hoodie off of your body. You lie back down, nipples hardening in the cold air. Embryâs eyes rake you, mesmerized. He brings a hand up every so lightly, finger circling your nipple to test your reaction. Seeing you arch your back into his touch, Embry brings his lips down to your neck, sucking and biting a trail down until his mouth had encircled your nipple. You sighed in relief, eyes closing at the sensation. You felt his hardness pressing into your leg, trying to shake the nerves of knowing that that would soon be inside you. The sucking and licking motion had drawn your thoughts out, leaving you with a mind blank of anything but Embry. He switched to the other nipple, ensuring you were more than satisfied with the feeling before bringing a hand over your clothed crotch. You froze, awaiting the new feeling, but Embry noticed.
âYou okay?â he stopped, waiting for your confirmation.
âYeah, just nervous,â you breathed.
âSay the word and I stop, no hard feelings. Okay?â You nodded, but he persisted, âSay it.â
âOkay.â As gentle as he was being with you, he had an air of control that had your stomach growing hotter by the second.
Bringing his hand back down, he caressed between your legs. It certainly felt better than what you had done yourself, but it was hard to make out much feeling with your denim jeans in the way.
âCan I take these off?â he breathed into your neck, turned on himself at the sight of your topless figure. You nodded, and he began to unbutton your jeans with one hand. When the zipper was pulled down, he sat up to peel them off you.
âWait,â you interject, and Embry froze completely, afraid of overstepping. âCan you go first?â you spoke, gesturing to his own bottoms. Being the only one naked racked you with anxiety. Embry smiled knowing you still wanted to continue, and stood up from the bed, pulling shorts and underwear down his tanned legs and stepping out. You took in the sight. Obviously, youâd seen penises before, and read about them, but seeing one in real life was something else. He was clean, well-groomed, and long. You werenât sure what to do, so you stood up to pull your own pants off. Once you had stepped out of your last garment, Embry strode towards you, lying you back down on the bed with a kiss to each cheek. You lie back expecting him to hover over you once more, only his mouth didnât land on your chest. It started on your belly and travelled lower.. And lower⊠and lower. He spread your legs gently, hot breath fanning over your exposed center, before fluttering sweet kisses along your inner thighs.
The anticipation of his mouth had you going crazy. This was always the part in the stories that the girls liked the most. What if you didnât like it? What if you smelled bad? What if you tasted bad?
Thoughts were silenced as he placed a gentle kiss on the hood of your clit. He looked like a starving man sitting before a feast, mouth all but drooling at the site of you laid out beneath him. Upon connecting with your eyes for one more confirmation, he dove in. His tongue was hot and wet, eliciting a slippery sensation as it grazed your clit. Your back arched into space as his mouth began a frenzy on you, licking, sucking, and kissing over and over until you were seeing stars.
âOh, wow,â you got out, head tilted back and eyes shut.
He hummed in agreement, never ceasing his moves. Lick, suck, kiss. Lick, suck, kiss. You felt something in your stomach begin to clench, panic settling at the new feeling.
âI feel weird,â you admit.
Embry lifts his face, mouth glistening. âItâs okay, baby, thatâs a good thing. Just focus on that feeling.â
You sat up on your elbows, brows furrowed, and Embry sensed your anxiety.
âThat feeling in your belly means youâre close to finishing. You donât have to if youâre scared, but itâs gonna feel so good,â he soothed. His warm eyes held yours in a stare that said you could trust him completely. You laid back and nodded for him to continue, determined to explore every feeling you could with him.
He started his actions slowly once more, building up speed but remaining consistent in his motions. You began to feel the clenching in your stomach again, chanting his name to keep your mind whole. His hands rubbed soothing circles over your stomach and thighs.
As your stomach began to feel more and more tense, your head began to swim with a dizzying storm. All at once, tingles erupted from your core across your entire body, stomach giving way to the rolls of your first orgasm. It lasted who knows how long, but when you regained control, you lifted your head, a signal for Embry to peel away as to not overstimulate you.
âHow did that feel?â he questioned, a smirk of pride on his face.
âHolyâŠâ you couldnât finish, body limp with satisfaction. âThat was crazy.â
âDo you want to stop there?â he asked, the tone in his voice indicating that he was more than happy with what you did, and would not be disappointed in the least if you were done for now.
âI want to keep going,â you stated, orgasm washing away any sense of embarrassment or shame.
Embry beamed at you, standing to pull a small foil packet out of his drawer.
âWhat about you?â you gestured to his stiff length. âI canââ
He cut you off. âNuh uh, this is all about you. Donât worry about me, Iâm more than okay.â
With this you resigned. However, a new wave of anxiety began to wash over you at the thought of penetration. He would need to be slow. Very, very slow. Something told you he knew this, however, and you laid back, giving your body to him in complete trust.
Embry ripped the foil open with his teeth and slid out the slippery condom, placing it over his length and rolling down. Youâd never actually seen a condom before, and were grateful that at least one of you knew how they worked.
âHow do you want to do this?â he asked.
âIâ Iâm not sure,â you admit, waiting for him to give you some indication.
With this, he flipped you onto your stomach, legs slightly spread, and pulled your hips a couple inches into the air. You were basically laying down flat, your hips tilted up to allow him access.
âThis is my favorite, but if it feels painful or uncomfortable at all, just tell me and we can try something else.â
You were blushing and extremely turned on at Embry throwing you around like this. Add one more thing to the list of what turned you on!
âIâm gonna go really slow, but you need to talk to me. If it feels good, tell me. If it hurts, tell me.â
âOkay,â you reassure him.
He kneeled behind you, lining himself up at your entrance. He rubbed his head amongst your folds, allowing you to get used to the sensation, before his tip caught in your center. Pushing slightly forward, you awaited the pain you knew would come. He got about an inch in before feeling you tense up, so he stopped to allow you to adjust. Embry ran his hands up and down your back, petting your hair to soothe you. When you were ready for more, you would push your hips up slightly, and Embry would take the hint, slowly pushing in another inch before stopping. When he was almost seated inside you, he paused.
âAre you okay? Am I hurting you?â
âIt feels weird, but it doesnât hurt. I think Iâm okay.â
You looked around the room and found that you could see Embryâs face in the mirror on his opposite wall. He looked to be in pure ecstasy, brows furrowed and mouth open. He must have been holding back a lot for your sake. The slickness of your previous orgasm combined with Embryâs face unclenched your muscles, allowing him to slide home.
âFuck,â he grunted as you gasped. You had never felt full like this in your life. The stretch on your inner walls was crazy, and instead of the tingling sensation Embryâs mouth brought you, this was a deep pressure in your stomach. It felt insane.
Embry stayed put, allowing you as much time as you needed to fully adjust. You were more than ready, though, so you tilted your hips to signal him to move. He pulled out an inch or so, and then slowly pressed back in.
âOh my god,â you breathed into the mattress, overcome by the feeling. He did this again, and again, and again, each time pulling out slightly further. He was fully fucking you.
He stayed slow, not wanting to overwhelm you, but you raised your knees in order to feel him deeper.
âFuck, Y/N, baby,â he whispered, beginning to speed up. Your moans and the sound of your wetness sent him to the edge. The tightening in your stomach grew once more, Embryâs tip pressing the exact spot inside you to get you seeing stars.
âEmbry, fuck,â you moan loudly, unabashedly, hips rocking back to meet his.
Just as you were starting to feel slightly raw and sensitive, he gripped your hips, stilling behind you, and you felt a warmth between your legs. He didnât start moving again, so you figured he came. He pulled out and flopped on the bed next to you, searching your face for any hint of regret.
âAre you okay?â he asked, always taking care of your needs first.
âThat was amazing, Embry,â you beamed, breathless. He pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead and running a hand through your hair.
âSoâŠâ Embry began after catching his breath. âWhere am I gonna take you this weekend?â he thought out loud. You were confused.
âTake me?â you clarified.
âSex rule number one:â he started, his voice laced with humor. âIf I make you cum, I get to take you on a date. Didnât you know?â he feigned ignorance.
âWell,â you joked back, âI guess rules are rules.â
warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, dacryphilia, dom!steve, cursing, dirty talk, crying, probably more but thatâs all i got
word count: 1.6k
from jen: iâm still not sure how i feel about my own smut writing but oh well, here you go! this is to hold you guys over while i write the music series. as always, with love <3
Steve Harrington would rather kill himself than make you cry.
Unless it was on his cock.
Heâs got you bare and spread across his navy silk sheets. Your hair is a tangled mess around you, mouth hung open and eyes squeezed shut. Your tiny hands are clutching the sheets, twisting so hard the fabric is beginning to rip. Heâd pulled his shirt off the minute he laid you on the bed, leaving himself in his jeans.
One of his palms is splayed open across your ribs. His other is between your legs, two fingers settled deep inside your cunt. He can feel your skin burning and the way your breathing hitches every time he hits that spot inside you.
âThatâs it, baby, just feel it,â He coos, crooking his finger upwards. You mewl below him and your thighs threaten to tighten around his waist.
âItâs too much, I canât â I canât,â You whine and it sounds so pretty in his head. Heâs pushing you towards your third orgasm of the night and he has no intention of stopping any time soon.
âYeah you can,â He shushes, moving his fingers in and out. âCâmon, be a good girl fâme,â
Your legs shake at the pet name and heâs got right where he wants you. Youâd do anything for him to keep praising you and he knows thatâs true when you start nodding.
âMhmmm, Steve!â
âYeah? You gonna be good?â He smiles down at you and shifts, his thumb sliding up to circle your clit. Your moaning rises and he can feel the way your walls clench around his fingers.
âYes! Yes! Iâll be good, I pr-promise,â He hears the way your voice cracks and the sound goes straight to his dick. He could tease you longer and part of him wants to but seeing the thin layer of sweat glisten on your skin, the way your thighs shake and the feeling of your warm walls squeezing his fingers, he canât help but give in.
âI know baby,â He leans down, his mouth hovering yours but not yet kissing you. âGo ahead, lemme feel it,â
When he pushes his thumb harder against your clit and quickens his pace, youâre thrown over the edge. Your back arches into him, arms thrown up and around his neck as a way to ground yourself to him.
He murmurs praise into your ears as he slows his fingers, but keeps the rhythm to help you ride out your high. He tells you how good you did for him, how pretty you look under him, how much he loves you.
He pulls his fingers from inside you, and makes sure to keep eye contact with you when he raises them to his mouth, tongue swirling his own fingers to taste you.
Your mouth is agape while you stare at him, pupils blown wide and he can tell youâre wishing it was you ducking his fingers.
âSo sweet,â Steve says, his tone carrying his usual confidence. Your stomach twists, and when you begin to whine under him, fingers clawing at his belt buckle, he chuckles softly before giving in. Â
He gently pushes your weak hands away and replaces them with his own. While he moves to unbuckle his belt, your hands grip his jaw and bring him down to your mouth. You latch onto him, creating your own rhythm and the taste of yourself on his tongue has you kissing him harder.
Normally, Steve liked to take his time with you but after watching you cum for him three times, he feels like heâs ready to bust the minute he touches you.
He pulls his might away from yours and watches the way your chase him. âYâgonna take it, baby?â
You know what heâs really asking â if you can handle him again, if you can handle it rough.
Your head nods frantically. âI can take it. Please, I wanna take it,â
He groans at your words and shoves his jeans and boxers down to his thighs, just enough to free himself. He leans back on his heels, hands sprawled across each of your thighs and nudges them apart.
He looks down at your cunt, your wetness glistening against your skin and he watches the way you clench around air in anticipation.
âFuck,â He mutters. He grips his dick in his hand, sliding it between your folds, gathering your slick.
âSteve,â You whine, finger nails clawing at his biceps. âDonât tease me,â
When he looks back up at you, he sees the way youâre biting your bottom lip and staring down at the way he glides his dick against you. You look like a fucking angel.
Without another word, Steve moves his hips forward and pushes into you. You both moan at the same time and he canât stop himself from collapsing over you, one arm bracing himself up next to your head and the other clamped tightly around your hip.
Your back arches into him while you moan and he can feel the way you stretch to take him.
âFuck you feel so good, baby, so tight,â He groans in your ear. Your arms circle around his back, nails digging into his skin. His hips keep moving forward and your own begin to push down, trying to meet his thrusts.
âFaster Steve, please,â You beg in his ear and he almost cums right there at the sound. He pushes himself up on his forearm and stares down at you.
âYeah? You want more?â
You whine beneath him and he feels the way your pussy clenches around him. He doesnât let you answer him properly before he pulls nearly all the way out and slams back inside you.
He watches the way you throw your head back and starts his brutal pace. His hips snaps into your own, and you feel him so deep, itâs almost like heâs in your stomach.
âOh God, right there! Right there!â
Itâs a miracle if you two donât get a noise complaint.
Steve is groaning at the sight of you, the sound of you, the feeling of you and he thrusts harder, deeper into you.
âFuck, thatâs it baby,â One of his hands wrap around your throat, not tight but enough to make your stomach dip. He notices the way you lean into his grip and he chuckles quietly. âLook at you. Youâre so good, taking me so well,â
His tone is almost condescending â itâs that faux sympathy that drives you crazy and he can feel it happening now when you start to whine.
You can feel every inch of him inside of you, and it worsens when he lifts your thighs up, resting your legs on his shoulders.
Youâre a whining and blubbering mess beneath him, fingers clawing at any of his exposed skin you can reach. He grins down at the state youâre in and slams into you harder.
Itâs overwhelming and somehow not enough at the same time. You can feel your fourth orgasm coming along but it feels different this time. It feels sharper, more intense, and you try to hold it in as long as possible but he can feel it.
You shake your head, palms trying to push at his chest but you both know youâd kill him it he actually stopped.
âSteve, Iâm â Iâm gonna c-,â You canât even finish your sentence when your eyes begin to leak tears. They slide down your fast so fast, hot and heavy against your skin and you can feel the way he twitches inside you.
âFuck baby, are you crying?â
You feel embarrassed at his tone, that condescending attitude again, but he doesnât let you dwell in it long before he brings one hand up to your face.
âGod, youâre so fucking pretty. Keep crying baby,â He practically whimpers, thumb brushing away the tears as they pass. Youâre so close it almost hurts and he can feel it. He feels the way you start to spasm around him. Â
Steve ruts his hips into yours, his free hand coming down to circle your clit. He leans down again, pressing his mouth to yours in a messy kiss and finally, your orgasm washes over you. You feel your skin begin to burn under his touch and your thighs shake from where they rest over his shoulders.
Youâre crying into his ear and Steve feels his own orgasm begin to hit him. He pulls away just enough to watch your face twist, cheeks covered in tear stains and itâs enough to throw him over the edge.
He gives your three more sloppy thrusts before heâs whining against your mouth, fingers tightening around the skin of your hips and spills into you.
You feel him twitch inside you a few more seconds while you catch your breath. When Steve rises again, you have a dazed look in your eye and your skin is flushed red. Your hairs a mess, lips swollen from the way he bit them and your cheeks are covered in tears.
âSo fuckinâ beautiful,â Steve murmurs, wiping away the few tears still spilling from you. You blush at the compliment, even though he just spent the last two hours fucking you into the mattress.
You smile back up at him. âIf I had known youâd get off from me crying, I wouldâve done it a long time ago,â
Steve feels his softened dick jump, and he has to force himself to calm down. âDonât start,â He grumbles while you continue to laugh at him.
Safe to say he makes you cry three more times tonight.
pairing: Kurt Kunkle x Reader
summary: Your boyfriend Kurt has been ignoring you all day because he wants to be playing video games and streaming them live, but you're fed up and want some attention from him, not caring that he's streaming.
wc: 2.3k
warnings: +18 (MDNI), explicit nsfw, unprotected sex, creampie, public sex on livestream, virgin kurt, sub!kurt, dom!reader, crying on sex, a little bit of overstimulation, dirty talking, bruising, kurt being pathetic as fuck over his girlfriend, praise kink, dry humping, masturbation (f&m both), a little bit of blood, edging
author's note: hii wanted to post this before starting to write some petitions i have! if u have any request, u can write it anon in my profile!! tysm for all the support.
You met Kurt Kunkle on the worst possible day at the mall. It was a random Saturday afternoon, and you were killing time between classes, wearing a cute little sundress.
You had just bought a new iced latte and you were checking your phone when a guy in a jacket with green and black squares, quite horrible, walked close to you.
His soda exploded everywhere âall over your dress, your phone, your shoesâ The cup hit the floor with a dramatic splash.
âOh my godâ fuckâ Iâm so sorry!â he dropped to his knees immediately, trying to wipe the sticky liquid off your legs with the sleeve of his hoodie, rambling a mile a minute. âI was trying to go live and didnât see you and now I ruined your dressâ and Iâm probably gonna get sued.â
You couldnât help it. You started laughing. Hard.
He looked at you from the ground with wide open and nervous eyes behind his messy brown hair, his cheeks already bright red.Â
He froze up like he couldnât believe someone as pretty as you was laughing instead of yelling at him.Â
"Arenât you... mad?" he asked while his voice cracked.Â
"No," you said, still laughing." "But you owe me a new drink, loser." That was it.Â
He bought you a new iced latte âand insisted on paying for the dry-cleaning of your dress, even though you told him it was fineâ. All along he called himself a "total disaster" and "the worst living human being".Â
He was so genuinely pathetic and sweet that you gave him your number when he shyly asked if he could "maybe text you later to make sure your dress survived."
Now you were here. Six months later and you were still way too hot for him He still acts like he won the lottery every time you kiss him.
Youâve been trying to get attention from Kurt for the last four hours and he has been ignoring you completely.Â
It started right after you woke up. You were already horny, that low and painful heat between your legs that only got worse the more he pretended you didnât exist.Â
You jumped into his lap while he was still in bed, half-asleep, kissing along his jaw and whispering to him. And tonight heâs been ignoring you for four straight hours.
"Good morning, darling.'' Kurt took a sigh, his eyes still stuck to his phone âwhere he was editing the clips of yesterdayâs broadcastâ and he only patted your thigh like you were a puppy craving attention.
"Five more minutes, baby. These highlights are going to be viral, I need to post them soon."Â
Five minutes became two hours.
At lunch you brought him a fresh soda and played with his hair, sitting in the arm of his gaming chair.Â
âKurt⊠can we talk? Youâve barely looked at me today.â He didnât even pause the game.Â
âYeah, in a sec. Wait till you see this quad kill, chatâs gonna lose their minds.â and you waited, but he never looked up.
By 3 p.m you were desperate. You changed your clothes to the tiniest black sleeping pants you had and a white t-shirt that was his. You stood right in front of his monitor, blocking the view on purpose.Â
"Honey, please. Iâm here and youâre acting like I donât exist." Kurt just came up to you, still touching the controller." Baby, move it, Iâm in the standings. Iâll pay attention after the broadcast, I swear."
That after never arrived. It was almost 8 p.m.Â
He was live for almost an hour. The red LIVE" dot burnt on his second monitor as if heâs making fun of you.
Kurt leant forward in his chair, shoulders tense under that old gray sweatshirt, shouting into his microphone with that aggressive gamer voice that somehow made your pussy throb even harder.
âBro what the actual fuck?! That was so easy! Iâm gonna fuck you up so hard â so fucking hard â you have no idea whatâs coming for you!â
The second those words left his mouth, your clit pulsed.Â
Hearing your sweet, and pathetic boyfriend growling âIâm gonna fuck you up so hardâ â even if it was just trash-talking pixels â sent a fresh gush of wetness into your shorts.Â
You were dripping for hours and the neglect only made it worse.
Youâve had enough. You got up behind his chair and slowly slid your hands down his chest from behind, pressing yourself against the back of his head.Â
Kurt was surprised but didnât stop playing.
 "B-babe... Iâm live right now..."Â
"I know exactly what youâre doing," you muttered, your lips rubbing his ear so that the microphone picks up every word. "Youâve been ignoring me for four hours straight. Iâve been wet and aching for you all day and you don't even look at me."
He swallowed hard. His character died instantly because his fingers froze.
ââYou have a girlfriend who wants to spend time with you, and you don't pay any attention to me.ââ
orangemachine: oh no sheâs madddd
dobutsnap: yeah shes taking what she wants lol
chicagostuffeds: yeah we can tell hes a loserÂ
You spinned his chair forcefully making him look at you. Kurt's eyes widened, that familiar expression of a panicked puppy took over his face while his cheeks flushed a bright pink.
You didnât ask. You climbed directly onto his lap, straddling his hips, with your knees on either side of the chair.Â
The moment your wet crotch pressed against the growing bulge in his gray sweatpants, you started rubbing against him, with slow, deliberate, dirty movements of your hips.
You grind down hard so the damp fabric of your tiny sleep shorts drags right over the thick ridge of his cock.Â
Kurtâs breath hitches loud enough for the whole stream to hear, and you rubbed hard against the damp fabric of your tiny shorts, brushing against him. Kurt's breathing was loud enough for the whole chat to hear.Â
You could feel every detail; how quickly he hardened beneath you, how he contracted, and how he moved with every thrust of your hips.
You maintained a steady, provocative rhythm, sliding down his entire body before pressing down. Each time you did, Kurt's hips arched involuntarily, seeking the friction like a desperate puppy.
The wet stain on your shorts darkened, mixing with the pre-cum that was already soaking his sweatpants.
"Do you feel that?" you whispered, your voice was low and sweet, but loud enough to be picked up by the microphone. "I've been this wet all day because of you. My shorts are fucking ruined and you haven't even touched me."
Kurt's hands wrap uselessly around your waist, trembling.
"I'm sorryâfuck... I'm so sorry. Oh shitâyou're so hot. I can feel how wet you are through my pants... I'm an idiot and I don't deserve this."
You moved your hips faster, making sure it kept rubbing right where you needed it.
The friction was perfect: not enough to make either of you come, but enough to drive you wild.
He was hard as a rock, trapped under the fabric, dripping so much that every touch made a wet, almost obscene sound. You could feel its exact shape.
Kurt's head fell back against the chair, his mouth open, letting out small moans with every thrust of your hips.
"God... it feels so good... you're rubbing against me like this and I'm going to cum. I'm so pathetic, oh Godâ I have a hot girlfriend and I ignored her all day. I'm sorryâI'm so sorry..."
sambigs10: im enjoying this more than that ass gameplay
amster2004: hes gonna cum in his pant im calling it
DogManPlus: shes so hot⊠and hes there too ig
You continued rubbing against him for a while, enjoying how he throbbed beneath you, how his hands finally gripped your hips as if afraid you'd stop.Â
Then, you slipped a hand between your bodies, pushed it under the waistband of his sweatpants, and wrapped your fingers around him. It was hot, slick with precum, throbbing wildly in your palm.
You began to stroke it slowly while continuing to rub yourself against him. Kurt let out a muffled sob.Â
"S-shitâ your hand... It's so soft. I can't concentrate on the gameâ baby, please..."
âKeep playing, good boy,â you whispered, twisting your wrist with each upward stroke, your thumb tracing the dripping slit. âDonât stop streaming. Let them hear how pathetic you sound when I finally touch you after youâve ignored me all day.â
SH_king1: HANDJOB ON STREAMMMM????
kinkysmsixnine: she called him good boyyy damn
He tried âGod, he triedâ but his character just went around in circles as you masturbated him under the desk. The wet rhythmic sound of your hand and his high-pitched and plaintive moans filled the room.
After another minute, Kurt couldn't take it anymore.Â
He paused the game with a trembling hand, but didn't end the stream.Â
"I can'tâ I need you..." tears were already gathering up in his eyes. "Please... can I touch you too? I want to make you feel better after being such a shitty boyfriend."
You nodded. âGo ahead, baby. Touch me. Show chat how wet your girlfriend is because you ignored her all day.â
His trembling fingers slid under your shorts and found your wet folds.
He inserted two fingers inside you awkwardly but eagerly, curling them the way you'd taught him last week.Â
The wet sounds were loud and dirty though the camera couldn't see exactly what was happening under the desk.
âMmm, thatâs it. Good boyâ just like that. Fuck, your fingers feel so nice⊠keep going.â you gasped and rolled your hips into his hand.Â
Kurt looked at you, his eyes glassy and wet, his voice cracking.Â
"You're so wet, oh shit. Why did I ignore you? I'm the worst boyfriendâ You feel so perfect between my fingers. I love you⊠I love you so much."
You continued touching him slowly as he still had his fingers inside you, both of you moaning into the microphone, completely losing control.
Meanwhile, the chat continued talking. Views increased, and donations were more intense than ever.
conFIRMshark: theyâre both moaning this is insane
SwerlSpider: someone clip this
dizzysnack: i want to see her bro go away
Finally, you couldn't wait any longer. You lifted yourself just enough to pull down your shorts and underwear, letting them fall to your ankles.
Then you sat back down on his lap, positioning him against your entrance and sliding down in a slow, gentle motion.
Kurt threw his head back, his mouth open in a silent scream. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks the instant he felt your intense heat envelop him completely.
"Oh my Godâoh, God. I'm inside you... I'm really, really inside you," he repeated pathetically, talking too much, but you didn't care. "You're so tight, warm, and wet. Fuck... I can't believe this is happeningâyou're letting a loser like me be inside you. I don't deserve this⊠you're too beautiful and too perfect."
You groaned loudly as you reached the bottom, squeezing him tight.
"Damn, you feel so good inside meâ so deep. Good boy, filling me so perfectly on your first time."
You started riding him slowly, savoring every thick inch that brushed against your walls. Kurt was completely lost in it: crying, babbling, praising you endlessly.
âYou feel so fucking perfectâ Iâve never felt anything like this⊠Youâre so tight. Oh God.ââ
âMmm, yes, baby,â you moaned, moving a little faster. âYouâre doing so well for meâŠâ
His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips and ass so tightly you knew you were going to have bruises tomorrow â little fingertip-shaped marks all over your skin.
You moaned louder, riding him faster. Kurt was losing control. His eyes were glassy with tears streaming, and suddenly he surged up, crashing his mouth against yours in a messy desperate kiss.
He bit down on your bottom lip hard enough that you tasted blood, a sharp metallic tang mixing with the kiss.Â
You whimpered into his mouth, the sting only making you wetter, making you bounce on his cock even harder.
âIâm sorryâ Iâm so sorry.ââ
He tried so hard not to come too quickly. His hands gripped your hips tightly, but he didn't push up, simply letting you set the pace, tears still streaming down his face.
"I don't want to cum yetâplease. It feels too good. You're so beautiful riding me like this..."
You leant down and kissed his neck, moaning right against his ear.Â
âHold it for meâ youâre doing so well⊠fuck, Kurt.â
âPlease⊠can I cum inside? PleaseâŠâ you clung to him deliberately and moaned loudly.
âCum for me. Fuck, Iâm going to cum tooâŠâ
Kurt desperately tried to hold back one last time, his face contorted, wanting to prolong the sex.
âIâm trying so hard not to cum yetâ it feels too fucking good.â but he canât. His thrusts become desperate, his voice cracking into full sobs as you kept moaning and riding him.
âIâm cummingâ take all of it.â you cum right with him, moaning loudly.
âYes, good boy. Ahh fuckâ Kurt.â your walls fluttered while he sobbed praises into your neck, still weakly thrusting through the overstimulation.
Kurt didnât pull out. He just wrapped his trembling arms around you, face buried between your tits while you stroked his hair and whispered.
The stream was sitting at almost 28k viewers. Besides, he earned over $6,000 in donations that you two didnât even read.
You stared at the camera, flushed and beaming, your voice husky from moans.
"Stream's over, chat. My boyfriend just had his first time."
Kurt smiled just before you clicked to end the transmission.
"And if you guys follow me, I'll convince her to start posting this type of content."
mr. sandman - kinktober day one - somno + JJ
18+ mdni - cw !!! somnophilia
a/n: a few days late but that's okay...
Itâs not like you and JJ had never talked about it before, in fact, you had woken up at least a dozen times to JJ âhelping himselfâ to eating your pussy for breakfast. So why did you feel so guilty about the dirty thoughts sneaking their way into your brain as JJâs morning wood poked at your ass?Â
You bit your lip as you debated back and forth whether or not to put his morning wood to use. There was no harm in just grinding against him a bit, right? JJ was a deep sleeper, everyone who knew him could testify to his ability to sleep through a hurricane. You tested it out first, moving slowly to rub your ass against his hard dick, arching your back a bit to get the right angle, when the unexpected happened: JJ let out an angelic moan. You froze, wondering if he woke up and could just fuck you already, but then he was silent; conscious JJ was never silent.Â
You needed him, bad. You could feel his dick throbbing against you, and it was making your resolve break more and more. JJ would probably want you to take care of his situation, right?. You reached behind your body to wrap your hand around his hard dick, his tip already leaking precum. JJ slept naked, and you were kinda grateful for that right now. You carefully guided him between your thighs, slowly resuming your movements from before. Another soft whine left JJâs lips and you were desperate to hear more, desperate to feel more. You put your hand between your legs to keep him steady as you slid yourself back and forth, letting him slide through your folds and coating his dick in your juices. You wanted nothing more than to put his dick inside you, but instead you settled for the feeling you were getting from his tip nudging your clit.Â
You felt JJâs hips start to move slightly, like he was lazily humping a pillow, and the thought of using JJ like he was using you was sending you closer and closer to your orgasm. Small huffs and whines left your lips, your body starting to get tired but chasing that feeling you didnât want to lose, clamping your thighs as tightly as you could.Â
Suddenly, you felt another hand reach between you and JJ, and before you could process what was happening, your prayers were answered and his dick was sliding inside of you, sending your head back as you let out a satisfied moan. âWhy didnât you put it in? Know you wanted toâŠâ JJ mumbled into the skin of your shoulder, his hand coming up to hold your hips, aiding in his thrusting. His voice low, still full of sleep, as he spoke directly next to your ear.
âSeemed..mm.. rudeâŠJ,â you answered honestly.
âYeah? Next time I wanna wake up to you riding me, âkay? Now let daddy take care of his needy girl.â
It was like JJ had answered your prayers in more way than one, not only had he woken up at the perfect moment to give you what you needed, but he also gave you permission- scratch that - he instructed you to use him while he slept.Â
So, a couple week later when you woke up in a similar predicament, horny with JJâs morning wood poking you in the ass, this time, you didnât feel guilty as you slid your panties down your legs just before straddling his lap.Â
JJ looked so beautiful like this, his soft skin, a little red and darker than usual from the summer sun, his face relaxed, not worried about whatever troubles find him when heâs awake.Â
You stayed still for a moment, to see if your weight on him was enough to wake him up; it wasnât. You lifted your hips to line him up before you slowly sank down on his length, your hands resting on his chest for stability. His face twitched, eyebrows furrowing together from the sensation of your walls clenching around him. When you were to the hilt, full with him, you started to move, slowly at first but then picking up your pace. JJâs dick was just too good for his own good, and the soft whimpers that left his lips was the hottest thing you ever heard.
Just as you started to feel the tension building in your stomach, JJ began to stir, his eyes squeezing shut before slowly starting to open. But you didnât stop, you didnât even slow. A smile slowly appeared on his lips. âGâmorning to you too,â his voice sleepy and mumbly.
âNeeded it, JâŠâ you said softly, your best attempt at an explanation.
âTake what you need, mamas,â JJ said softly before a moan escaped him from the feeling of you clenching around him. His hands clumsily came up to paw at your breasts, kneading the flesh between his fingers before pinching your nipples. Your head fell back as your orgasm washed over you, JJ taking your head falling back as a sign that it was his turn, he quickly flipped you so he was on top and wasted no time before pounding into you, now chasing his own release.Â
âMy girl needed my dick so bad, just couldnât wait, hmm?â JJ teased, his forehead resting against yours as both of you were panting. You wrapped your legs around him, unable to reply, instead of words you mustered up a needy whine in response, which made JJ chuckle at the sight of his needy girl, more than happy to give her what she needs.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Summary: When Steve wakes up, the truth finally surfaces. Is this the end of you⊠or a new beginning?
Warnings: angst, established relationship, married couple, arguments, marriage issues, pregnancy, infertility issues, maternity, motherhood, emotional distress, accident, injuries, alleged cheating, presumption of infidelity, divorce mentions
English isn't my first language, so be understandable and gentle, thanks!
Word count: +15k
Author's note: I hope youâre ready, because all your questions will finally be answered and everything will be revealed. Are you ready to find out? I definitely canât wait to read your reactions and what you think. I really hope you love this chapter as much as the previous ones⊠if not more. Let me know what you think with a comment, your feedbacks are really important for me. And if you want to support me even more, reblog it. I'd really appreciate it. Now enjoy it and thanks for reading!
Two days after your conversation with Kirsten, the doctors told you the coma was no longer necessary and that they could begin reducing the sedatives.
They explained everything in careful, clinical terms â what it meant, how his body would respond, what to expect over the next few hours, the next few days. You listened, nodding when it felt appropriate, your eyes fixed on them as if you were following every word.
But you werenât.
Because the only thing that truly registered, the only thing that stayed with you, was one simple fact.
Steve was going to wake up soon.Â
Aside from that news, your days didnât change much. You still followed the same routine you had built for yourself since the accident.
You waited.
You sat by his bed, watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, listened to the steady rhythm of the machines. You spoke to him, quietly, filling the silence when it became too much. Other times, you just stayed there, your hand wrapped around his.Â
Somewhere along the way, everything had started to feel⊠suspended. Like time had paused, caught between what had been and what was supposed to happen next. The separation, your argument, the diagnosis â it all felt distant, almost unreal. There were moments when it barely seemed like it had happened at all.
And something almost ironic about it â cruelly so.
Just two weeks before, you had left him, walked out of your home and spent an entire week avoiding him, refusing to see him, to hear him out.
And nowâŠ
Now you spent every single day at his bedside, watching him breathe, sitting beside him for hours just to be close to him, taking care of him like nothing had ever happened. Like you had never left.
You had slipped back into your place so naturally it almost felt strange.
You were his wife again.
In a strange, unsettling way, the accident had restored something that had broken between you, forcing everything back into place.Â
But none of that was real. You knew it wasnât. Because the moment Steve opened his eyes, reality would come rushing back in and everything you had been avoiding would still be there, waiting for you.Â
And that scared you.Â
The moment he woke up, there would be no more hiding from what came next.
It was a kind of contradiction. You couldnât wait for Steve to regain consciousness but at the same time, a quiet fear lingered beneath it all â tight, persistent, suffocating.
At some point, you decided it was finally time to prepare a bag for him â clothes, basic things he would need when he woke up. Which meant going home. Your home. The same one you had left almost two weeks ago. The thought alone made your chest tighten.Â
When you parked in front of the house, your hands stayed on the steering wheel for a moment longer than necessary. Your eyes lifted slowly to the front door.
The memory came back so vividly it almost felt real. Steve standing just a few steps away from the car the day you had left, His chest rising and falling too fast, like he couldnât quite catch his breath. You could still see the confusion in his eyes and hear the pain in his voice as he begged you not to go. To stay.Â
You swallowed hard and blinked, forcing the image away. Then you exhaled, steadying yourself, and stepped out of the car. You unlocked the door and stepped inside.
For a split second, you expected to hear Steveâs voice calling your name from another room. The faint sound of movement upstairs. Or to feel his arms wrapping around you, welcoming you home after a long day.Â
Instead, there was nothing.Â
Just silence, settling around you immediately, heavy in a way that felt unfamiliar in a place that had never been quiet before.Â
You took a few steps forward, your gaze moving slowly around the living room. Everything looked exactly as you had left it.
Almost.
Your eyes caught on the coffee table â on the empty beer bottles scattered across it, a few more near the edge like they had been set down carelessly and forgotten.
Your chest tightened.
Steve wasnât like that. He drank, sure, but occasionally. Never too much. Never like this.Â
It was the only real sign he had been there at all. Otherwise, the house felt untouched. As if he had simply been passing through it, existing in it without really living in it.
Your throat tightened slightly.
That place didnât feel like home.
Not without him.
Because it had never really been about the walls.
It had always been him.
Now you felt out of place in it. Like an intruder.Â
You swallowed the thought down before it could settle too deeply and turned toward the stairs, taking them quickly, almost on instinct, until you reached the bedroom.
The door was still slightly open as if someone had left in a hurry, without bothering to close it first. You pushed it wider and stepped in, stopping almost immediately on the doorway.Â
Steveâs side of the bed was still unmade, the sheets wrinkled and half-pulled loose like they had been left in the middle of something. The books he had found were still scattered across the floor. On his nightstand, Eddieâs stash and a lighter sat exactly where he had left them.
Your side of the room was untouched. Your things â the one you hadnât taken with you â were still there just as you had left it. Your chest tightened as the realization settled in. Steve hadnât moved or packed anything away. He had left it all there. Like everything had been waiting for you to come back and press play again.
You swallowed and forced yourself to move. You bent down, picking up the books from the floor, stacking them one by one. You smoothed the sheets absentmindedly, straightening the bed just enough to make it look less abandoned. When you finished, you walked to the closet and pulled out one of Steveâs duffel bags, setting it on the bed.Â
For a moment, you just stood there, staring at it. Then you started packing â a few changes of clothes, toiletries. You folded each piece of clothing with care, placing it inside one by one, slowly.
Your mind pulled you back to two weeks earlier. When you had done the same thing â only faster, messier. Throwing your things into a suitcase, without stopping, too focused on leaving before he came back. Before he could stop you.
Your hand stopped for a second, your fingers tightening slightly around the fabric you were holding.Â
Coward, a little voice whispered into your mind.
You swallowed hard, your throat dry, sore. Â
It was true. You had chosen the easy way out by not giving him a chance to speak and decide.
Your grip softened.
And in doing so, you had hurt him anyway. Maybe more.
You brought the shirt to your chest, holding it there for a moment, your eyes closing briefly as you breathed him in. You lowered it slowly, smoothing it out before placing it in the bag with the rest.
If you had just talked to him from the beginning⊠Maybe things would have been different. And now maybe you wouldn't be in an empty house, silently packing a bag to take to your unconscious husband in the hospital.
You zipped the bag shut, the sound cutting through the silence of the room. You stood there for a second, your hand resting on top of it. Then you picked up the bag and walked out of the room, down the stairs, and toward the front door. Your hand lingered on the handle for just a moment before you opened it. As you stepped outside, you wondered if you would come back one day.Â
Or if that was another goodbye again.Â
â
The next day, the doctors stopped the last of the sedatives.
Now it was up to Steve.
They told you it could take hours. Maybe a couple of days.
The moment they said it, a silent countdown started in your mind. You found yourself checking the clock constantly, watching the minutes pass and counting the hours. It had become like a hobby by now. A boring, slow one.
Every time you looked at him, you wondered if that would be the moment in which his fingers would twitch. Or if his eyes would finally open. And as the hours passed, the anxiety that had been sitting quietly in your chest began to grow.Â
You needed him to wake up. To hear his voice. To see his big, brown eyes open and look at you. You needed to be sure that he was really okay. That he was still⊠him.Â
Even though the doctors had been reassuring, the bleeding had resolved and the fractures were healing well, they had also mentioned possible complications due to the head trauma. Cognitive ones as memory loss or speech issues.Â
You didnât know which one scared you more.Â
And you hoped you would never have to find out.Â
â
As hours passed and you waited for Steve to wake up, you began to prepare yourself on what to say. How to say it. Because you knew that the moment he woke up, reality would follow. And everything you had left unfinished would still be there, waiting. You had a conversation to resume. Many things to discuss.Â
And Kirsten, of course.
Your jaw tightened slightly at the thought.
Despite everything, you hadnât forgotten. You couldnât. Even if part of you wanted to push it aside, just for a little longer.Â
Your mind had shifted from imagining them together â filling in the blanks with your worst assumptions â to replaying every single word Kirsten had said to you. Over and over again. Like a broken record. Since that conversation, you had gone through it countless times in your head, picking it apart, analyzing every detail, every pause, every expression.
Trying to understand what was real.
Trying to figure out what had been left unsaid.
Robinâs words echoed faintly in your mind.
Let him explain.
You exhaled quietly. Even though you had already spoken to her and knew what had happened that night, you would listen to Steve. To his version. He was the only one who could remove all doubts and clarify everything.
What if she had lied?Â
In the end, you didnât know her and maybe that night something else had happened. Something she might not have told you. Something she might have left out. But you knew Steve. You knew him well enough to know when he was lying or not. So you would let him explain and you would listen. Really listen. All the way through. Without interruptions. Without shutting him out. Or walking away.Â
You owed him that. To yourself, too. And to your marriage.Â
Your gaze dropped to your joined hands, swallowing hard.Â
There were things you needed to say as well.Â
In the days you had spent there, sitting beside him, watching him fight through something you couldnât see, something had shifted. You had had time to think and to replay everything. You had questioned your own choices. And some of them didnât sit right anymore.
You had things to admit. Mistakes to own. And you had made decisions â new onesâ that would change everything. Again.
Your grip on his hand tightened slightly.
âWake up, Steve,â you murmured, your voice low, almost lost in the quiet of the room.
Because no matter what waited for you on the other side of that moment, you needed him there for it.
-
By the time evening settled outside the hospital windows, the room had dimmed into that quiet, bluish half-light that made everything feel suspended.
You were sitting beside Steve, a sheet of paper resting on your lap, a pencil moving slowly between your fingers as you worked on a sketch, trying to keep yourself busy.
You hadnât left his side all day, refusing to go home. The doctors had warned you he would likely be confused, agitated and you didn't want to risk Steve waking up alone, while you weren't there. You wanted to be there for him â to soften that moment as much as possible.Â
Your gaze lifted toward him again, almost automatically. It had become a reflex at this pointâchecking, even when you didnât realize you were doing it.
You sighed quietly.
He was the same as he had been all day â still, quiet. No changes yet.Â
Your eyes began to drop back to the paper when you saw it, freezing instantly.
His fingers had moved. Just slightly. So faint you werenât even sure it had happened. Maybe you had imagined it, you thought.Â
You blinked, your breath catching. Your eyes quickly flicked to his.Â
They were closed.
Your gaze snapped back to his hand.
The fingers were still. Immobile.Â
Your heart started to beat faster, your grip tightening slightly around the pencil as doubt crept in. You had imagined it, you told yourself. You had to have. After all, you were exhausted. You hadnât slept properly in days. And it wouldnât have been the first time your mind played tricks on you.
You swallowed, forcing yourself to look again, and waited.Â
One.
Two.
Ten seconds.
Then you saw again.
A small, uncoordinated twitch of his fingers.Â
You blinked. Once. Twice.Â
His fingers kept moving.Â
It was real.Â
Your chair scraped loudly against the floor as you stood up too quickly, the sound barely registering. The paper and pencil slipped from your hands and fell onto the seat behind you as you moved closer to the bed, your eyes locked on him.
âSteveâŠâ The name left your lips before you could stop it, barely more than a breath.
His eyelids fluttered. Slowly. Uncertainly. Like even that small movement required effort.
Your heart stuttered in your chest as you reached for his hand, wrapping your fingers around his, tightly, holding on. âSteve,â you repeated, your voice trembling now.
His eyes opened â just a fraction at first â then closed again almost immediately, like the light was too much. His brow furrowed faintly.
A second later, he tried again. This time they stayed open a little longer, unfocused. He blinked, slow and heavy, his gaze drifting across the room without really seeing it. Then his eyes widened and his breathing turned uneven, shallow, like his body was trying to catch up with something it didnât understand yet.
âHey⊠hey, itâs okay,â you said quickly, your voice breaking despite your attempt to steady it. âItâs me. Iâm here, Steve.â
Your hand tightened around his, careful not to hurt him, as your other one moved to his hair, brushing it back gently from his forehead, your touch careful, delicate.Â
His eyes finally found you, tilting his head slightly toward you and the tension in his features eased, just a little. He swallowed slowly.Â
You felt your chest tighten.
âYouâre in the hospital,â you continued softly, forcing the words out through the emotion building in your throat. âYou had an accident, but youâre okay. Youâre going to be okay.â
You forced a small smile.Â
He didnât respond. He just kept looking at you, his gaze fixed, almost searching. Like he was holding onto the only thing in the room that made any sense. Like if he looked away, even for a second, you might disappear. You couldn't even imagine how scared and confused he must feel.Â
A flicker of panic rose in your chest.
âSteve?â you said again, slower this time. âCan you hear me?â
No answer.
Your stomach dropped.
What if he didnât recognize you?
The thought hit fast, sharp, stealing the air from your lungs as the doctorsâ warnings echoed in your mind, again and again.Â
Consequences. Memory loss. Speech issues.Â
You swallowed hard, your grip softening unconsciously around his hand.
âIâ Iâm going to get someone,â you said quickly, the words rushing out, stumbling over each other as panic crept into your voice. âIâll be right back, okay? I just need to call a doctorââ
You started to pull away but his hand tightened around yours. Not strongly. He had just woken up and was still weak, but still strong enough to stop you.
Your breath caught as your eyes dropped to where your hands were joined, then snapped back to his face.Â
His lips parted slightly, his throat working as he tried to speak. The sound that came out was low. Rough. Like it hurt.
ââŠdonâtâŠâ
The word barely made it past his lips. But it was there. Relief hit you so suddenly it almost made you dizzy.
He could speak.
You leaned closer immediately to hear better, your heart pounding.
âHey, itâs okay, you donât have toââ
He tried again, his breathing faltering, uneven.
ââŠgoâŠâ
Each word seemed to cost him effort.
ââŠpleaseâŠâ
Your chest tightened painfully as your eyes filled with tears, blurring your vision.Â
ââŠdonât⊠leave me.â
You pulled away from him. A shaky breath left your lips, something between a sob and a laugh, relief and emotion crashing together all at once. You shook your head quickly, your fingers tightening around his as if to reassure him.Â
âHeyâhey, no,â you said softly, your voice trembling despite your attempt to keep it steady. âIâm not leaving you. Iâm right here.â
You leaned closer again, your thumb brushing gently over his knuckles.Â
âYouâre okay,â you murmured, more to yourself than to him. âYouâre okay.â
The fact that he could speak and reach for you was reassuring, easing some of the fear that had been building in your chest for days.Â
âI just need to tell them youâre awake, okay? Iâll be right back. I promise.â
His grip didnât loosen immediately. His eyes stayed on you, wide, uncertain, like he didnât trust your words. Not completely.Â
You smiled at him, forcing yourself to gently pull your hand free, slowly. Your fingers lingered for a second longer before you stepped back. âIâll be right there,â you reassured him again.
You turned and moved quickly toward the door. âNurse!â Your voice echoed down the hallway, sharper, urgent. âNurse! My husband â heâs awake â I need a doctor! Can I get a doctor, please?â
Footsteps approached almost immediately. A nurse appeared at the end of the corridor, her pace quickening as you explained, words tumbling over each other. âHe just woke up â heâs conscious, heâs talkingââ
She nodded and turned without hesitation, hurrying off to call a doctor.
You turned back and walked quickly into the room, your eyes immediately finding him again. You crossed the space in a few quick steps and reached for his hand again, wrapping your fingers around his.
His gaze returned to you instantly.Â
âHey! The doctorâs coming,â you said softly, your voice gentler now, steadier. âEverything will be okay.â
A few minutes later, the nurse returned, this time accompanied by a doctor. You instinctively stepped slightly to the side to give them space, though your hand remained wrapped around Steveâs, your fingers unwilling to let go completely.
The doctor approached calmly, offering Steve a small, reassuring smile before reaching into his coat pocket.
âSteve,â he said gently, âcan you hear me?â
Steveâs eyes, heavy and slow, shifted from you to him. It took a moment, but he gave a faint nod.
âGood,â the doctor continued. He lifted a small penlight, bringing it up carefully. âIâm just going to check your eyes, okay? Follow the light for me.â
The beam moved slowly from side to side. Steveâs gaze followed, sluggish but responsive. The doctor watched closely, studying the movement, then repeated it once more before nodding to himself.
âAlright,â he said quietly, more to himself than to either of you. He lowered the light and straightened slightly. âYouâre in the hospital,â he continued, voice calm and steady. âYou were in an accident. Youâve been unconscious for a few days, but youâre safe now.â
Steveâs brow furrowed slightly, like he was trying to process the information.
The doctor watched him for a second, then reached for the chart at the foot of the bed, flipping it open.
âDo you remember what happened?â he asked. âThe accident?â
Steve hesitated. You felt your breath catch in your throat without realizing it, your body going still beside him. His gaze drifted briefly, unfocused, like he was searching for something in his mind and coming up empty.
Then, slowly, he shook his head.
Your chest tightened. You forced yourself to swallow, keeping your expression steady even as something uneasy settled deep inside you.
The doctor gave a small, thoughtful nod, as if the answer didnât surprise him, and made a quick note on the chart. Then he looked up. His gaze shifted â first to you, briefly â before returning to Steve.
âAnd do you recognize this woman?â he asked.
The question seemed to echo in the room as every muscle in your body went rigid, your eyes locking onto Steveâs face, searching for something â anything â that could answer that question.Â
Steveâs eyes found yours. His gaze lingered, quiet, intent, studying you. As if he was trying to understand something just out of reach.
You forced a small smile, encouraging, though it felt fragile, uncertain. You swallowed.
Seconds stretched as your heart pounded loudly in your ears, each beat sharper than the last.
Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he nodded.
Relief hit you so suddenly it almost made your knees weak. Air rushed back into your lungs as if you had been holding it the entire time.
ââŠmy wife,â Steve managed, his voice rough, low, the words dragged out with effort. âSheâs⊠my wife.â
Your breath left you in a quiet, unsteady exhale, something in your chest loosening all at once.
He remembered you. He knew who you were.Â
He was still your Steve.Â
The doctor gave a satisfied nod, jotting something down. âGood,â he said simply.
He closed the chart with a soft snap and looked back at Steve.âFor today, I think thatâs enough,â he continued. âWeâll run more tests tomorrow. For now, the most important thing is that you rest. Try not to tire yourself out.â
Steve gave the faintest nod, his eyelids already starting to droop again.
âYouâve been very lucky, Mr. Harrington,â the doctor added. Then he stepped back, exchanging a brief glance with you before he turned and made his way toward the door, the nurse following closely behind.
After a second, the door closed softly and the room fell quiet again.
For a moment, you didnât move. A small part of you hesitated, suddenly aware that you were alone with him again. You werenât sure what to do. How to act. Or what came next.
You swallowed slowly, then turned back toward him.
Steve was already looking at you.
You took a small step closer. Then another. Careful. Almost unsure.
âHeyâŠâ you said softly, your voice quiet. âHow do you feel?â
He didnât answer immediately. His eyes stayed on yours, steady despite the exhaustion behind them. Then they fluttered shut for a brief second â too long â before reopening abruptly, like he was checking that you were still there.
ââŠokay,â he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper, each word slow, heavy. âJust⊠tired.â
The effort it took him to speak was evident in the way his breathing hitched slightly afterward.
You nodded gently, your expression softening. âYeah,â you murmured. âThat makes sense. You should try to get some sleep.â
He shook his head almost immediately, though the movement was weak, unsteady. His eyes were already half-closed.
âBut⊠Donât⊠want to.â The words came out uneven, dragged between breaths.
Your hand moved instinctively, brushing lightly over his forehead, fingers threading gently through his hair. âHey,â you said softly, almost a whisper. âItâll help. You heard the doctor â you need to rest.â
At your touch, some of the tension in his face eased a little. His eyes opened once more, slower this time, searching for you. âWill you⊠be here?â he asked, his voice quieter now, fragile. He swallowed after, like even that had taken effort. âWhen I wake upâŠâ
The question lingered between you.
For a second, you didnât answer. Your chest tightened, your gaze flickering over his face â taking him in like you were trying to memorize him, or maybe reassure yourself that he was really there. Your eyes filled with tears. Then you nodded.
âOf course.â
You hesitated for just a fraction of a second before adding, softer. âIâll be here.â
His eyes stayed on you for another moment, like he was holding onto that answer, before the weight of exhaustion finally pulled him under. His grip loosened, the eyelids drooped and his breathing evened out again, slow and steady.Â
You remained where you were, your hand still resting lightly against him, your thumb absentmindedly brushing against his skin.
-
Sometime in the middle of the night, a strained sound pulled you out of sleep.
You were curled on your side on the small couch, one arm tucked under your head, the thin hospital blanket barely covering you. You frowned, still caught somewhere between sleep and waking, before it came again â low, uneven. A quiet groan. Your eyes snapped open when you realized where it was coming from.
You pushed yourself up immediately, the blanket slipping off as you crossed the room in a few quick steps, barefoot against the cold floor.
âSteve?â
He was exactly in the same position you had left him but something was wrong. He was restless. His eyes were still closed but his expression was tense, brows drawn together. His jaw was clenched, and his head moved faintly from side to side against the pillow, like he was trying to shake something off.
Another strained sound left his lips.
Your stomach dropped. âHey⊠hey, itâs okay,â you said softly, reaching him, your hand settling on his arm. âAre you in pain? Do you need me to call someone?â
He gave you no response. The only sound in the room was his uneven breathing.Â
You leaned closer, your grip tightening slightly. âSteve?â you called again, a little louder this time.
Still nothing.Â
You shook him gently, not wanting to hurt him, and then suddenly you stopped.
It wasnât pain.
He was having a nightmare.
You moved your hand to his shoulder, about to wake him when his lips parted, a broken sound slipping out.
ââŠnoâŠâ
You froze.
ââŠwaitâŠâ
Your breath caught.
ââŠKirstenâŠâ
The name hit you like a shock. Everything in you went still. Your fingers loosened against him as you just stared, your chest tightening, your breath suddenly shallow.
For a second, you werenât sure you had heard it right. But the name lingered in the space between you. Clear enough. Heavy.
Steveâs head shifted once more against the pillow â then stilled. His face relaxed. His breathing evened out, slow, steady, like whatever had held him had finally let go.
As if nothing had happened.
You didnât move for a second. You swallowed, your throat dry, your chest tight as something unsettled twisted deep inside you. Then, slowly, you stepped back, your hand slipping away from him. You returned to the couch and lay down again, staring at the ceiling, your body tense, your mind completely wide awake now. Every time you closed your eyes, you heard it.
Kirsten.
Over and over again. Â
You squeezed your eyes shut, but it didnât help.
What had he been dreaming about? Why her?
Your thoughts spiraled before you could stop them.
Had he been remembering the night he had spent with her? Which part?
Had it meant something?
Your stomach twisted, almost making you want to throw up. You swallowed, trying to get rid of the nausea. You felt hurt in a way you didnât quite know how to name.
The name echoed again.
Kirsten.Â
Until, eventually, exhaustion pulled you under and you fell asleep.
-
Morning came quietly.
When you woke, it took you a moment to remember where you were. Your body felt stiff, your neck sore from the awkward angle you had slept in. The thin hospital light filtered through the curtains, pale and diffused, settling softly across the room. You blinked, still half-asleep, and turned onto your other side â the one facing Steveâs bed. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows to check on him.
He was still asleep.Â
His breathing was steady, his face relaxed, peaceful. You let yourself fall back against the couch with a quiet sigh, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds before finally forcing yourself up.
You moved slowly, careful not to make noise, and reached for your bag. From it, you pulled out a change of clothes and your small toiletry pouch. Before heading to the bathroom, you glanced at him again. Only then did you slip inside and close the door softly behind you.
The cold water helped you to wake up completely. Then you brushed your teeth and changed into a pair of jeans and a white blouse, leaving the top buttons undone. You braided your hair with quick, practiced movements, your reflection staring back at you â pale, tired, like you had aged years in just a few days.Â
For a brief second, your mind betrayed you and Kirstenâs image appeared before you with her perfect hair and flawless make-up, put together in a way you didnât feel right now. Your jaw tightened as Steveâs voice, whispering her name, echoed again in your mind.Â
Your stomach dropped.Â
Your gaze shifted back to your reflection. Then lower. To your body. A body that suddenly felt⊠wrong. Defective. While Kirsten was everything you didnât feel like in that moment. Younger. Pretty. And probably fertile.Â
The thought landed sharp and heavy, tightening your throat.
Maybe Steve had seen it too that night. He must have looked at her and found her beautiful. Maybe he had seen something easier in her. Simpler. Someone who didnât come with defects. Unlike you.
You swallowed.
Was that why he stayed?
Before you could spiral further, you reached for your makeup and started applying it with more focus than necessary. Controlled. Precise. Like it could fix something. Or at least hide it.
When you stepped back into the room, your eyes lifted instinctively to him.
Steve was awake, propped slightly against the pillows now, his posture still weak, shoulders slouched.Â
You froze for half a second. âHey⊠youâre awake,â you said after a moment, a little too quickly, a hint of surprise slipping into your voice. You gave him a small smile.Â
He didnât look away. âYouâre here,â he said, like he wasnât entirely sure of it. Like he needed to say it out loud to believe it.
Something in your chest shifted. You set your pouch down on the couch and moved closer, your your steps first quickly, then slower, more careful as you approached his bed.Â
âYeah, of course I am. I just â I went to freshen up a bit,â you said, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom. âYou know⊠look somewhat presentable. I havenât exactly been at my best these ââ
âYou look beautiful.â
The words came without hesitation.
You blinked, caught off guard. Your mouth parted slightly, whatever you had been about to say dissolving before it could take shape. For a second, you just stood there, a little stunned â then a small, involuntary smile tugged at your lips.
There was a brief pause.
âWellâŠâ you cleared your throat lightly, your gaze briefly dropping before lifting back to him. âYou donât look that bad yourself, all things considered.â
There was a hint of amusement in your tone, an attempt â gentle, careful â to ease the tension. But inside you the anxiety was eating you up.Â
You stopped beside the bed, suddenly aware of how close you were.
âHow are you feeling?â you asked, softer now. âDid you sleep okay? Are you in pain?â
It felt strange standing there or talking to him after everything. Not in a bad way. Just strange as the last conversation you had shared still hovered somewhere between you, unspoken but present. Like an echo neither of you could quite shake.Â
And there was the distance too. Not physical. But more like you were both trying to find your footing without knowing where the ground was.Â
Steve hesitated. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he answered. âIâm⊠okay, I think,â he said, his voice still rough, low from disuse. âA little sore. But⊠I guess it could be worse.â
He shifted slightly against the pillows, the movement slow, careful. His eyes drifted briefly around the room, as if grounding himself. Then back to you.
âIââ he started, then paused, like he had to gather the energy for the question. âHow long was I out?â
âA week.â
He blinked, clearly caught off guard. His lips parted slightly. âOh.âÂ
Then, he nodded faintly, his gaze dropping for a second as he processed it, shoulders sinking just a little deeper into the pillows.
For a moment, the room fell so quiet you could hear just your own breathing, your heartbeat loud in your ears.
You sat down on the chair beside his bed, leaving a careful distance between you.Â
It felt wrong. Being this close to him â in the same room, within reach â and not touching him. You kept your hands folded tightly in your lap, fingers laced together as if that alone could keep you still. Because part of you wanted to move closer. To reach for him. To take his hand, feel the warmth of his skin, reassure yourself that he was real.Â
But you didnât and stayed where you were.
âDo you⊠remember anything?â you asked after a moment, your voice quieter now, more cautious. âAbout the accident, I mean.â
Steve lifted his gaze to you. For a second, he just looked at you â like he was trying to read something in your expression, something you werenât saying. Then he shook his head.
âNot really,â he admitted. âI mean⊠itâs all kind of blurry. Pieces, maybe. But nothing that makes sense.â
You nodded faintly, though your mind had already moved ahead.
What else didnât he remember?
Did he forget what had happened with Kirsten or the dream he had last night?
âI think I⊠had too much to drink,â he continued, slower now, as if choosing each word carefully. âThe last thing I can clearly recall is being in the car andââ
He stopped. His expression shifted almost instantly. His eyes flickered, unfocused for a second, his face tightening, the color draining slightly from it as if something had just clicked into place.Â
You leaned forward in your seat without thinking. âHeyâhey, what is it?â you asked quickly, the edge of panic slipping into your voice. âAre you okay? Does something hurt?â
Steve blinked a few times, trying to steady himself, his breathing uneven for a moment. âNo, Iâm okay,â he said finally, though his voice came out rougher than before. âItâs justâŠWas anyone else hurt?â
The question caught you off guard.
You frowned slightly. âWhat?â
âThe accident,â he clarified, his voice tense now, more awake than before. âWas there any victim? Anyoneââ
âNo,â you interrupted gently but firmly, shaking your head. âThere were no victims.â
He went still. For a moment, he just stared at you, searching your face â making sure. Then his shoulders dropped, a quiet breath leaving him, relieved.Â
âOkay⊠okay,â he murmured, more to himself than to you, nodding faintly.
But you could see he was still tense. His gaze lowered briefly, his jaw tightening again as something else settled in.
âI justâŠâ he started, then paused, swallowing. He dragged a hand over his face, slower this time. You could see it â the moment where he had to decide whether to say it or not. âI just remembered something,â he said finally, his voice lower now, heavier. âSomething you should know.â
Your heart sank, even though you already knew what he was going to tell. Or at least, you thought you did.
Still, you didnât say anything. You just nodded, giving him space to continue.
Steve dragged a hand down his face, exhaling slowly, like he was trying to gather himself. Then his hand dropped, almost unconsciously, to his other one. His fingers closed around his ring finger, rubbing at the bare skin where his wedding band should have been. Back and forth.
âIâŠâ His gaze slipped away from yours, fixing somewhere ahead of him, unfocusedâlike it was easier to look at nothing than at you. âI wasnât alone.â
The words landed heavier coming from him, making everything more real.Â
âThere was someone else in the car with me,â he went on, his voice uneven, low. âA woman.â
You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. Hearing it out loud from him made it real in a way it hadnât been before. Final in a way you couldnât undo.Â
You stayed still, silent and let him continue.Â
Let him explain, Robinâs voice echoed clearly in your mind.Â
âAfter⊠after our argument that night,â he continued, slower now, like he was piecing it together as he spoke, âI couldnât go home. I just ââ He shook his head faintly. âI didnât want to be there. Not without you.â His eyes flickered briefly toward you, then dropped again almost immediately. âI needed to get out. To not think for a while. I wasâŠâ He exhaled sharply. âI was a mess. Angry. Tired. Everything at once. And I didnât ââ He swallowed, dragging in a breath, like even saying it out loud cost him something. âI didnât want to be alone.âÂ
You lowered your eyes to your hands, your fingers curling slightly into your palms.
âSo I went to the Hideout,â he continued. âJust to have a drink. But⊠Instead, I ended up having a few.â
A humorless breath left him.
âAnd thatâs where I met her.â
He let his head fall forward, his hands coming up to his face as if the memory itself was too much.Â
âSheââ he started, then faltered. âShe asked if she could sit.â
A brief silence stretched between you.Â
âI⊠I knew what she was really asking for. What she really wanted,â he admitted, dropping his gaze. âAnd I know that itâs not really an excuse but⊠I felt so alone.â His voice edged with something close to shame. He swallowed, eyes briefly closing. âI thought a little company wouldn't hurt. So I let her sit next to me.â A small pause, like even saying it felt wrong. âWe started talking. And she⊠started flirting.â
His fingers tightened slightly against the bedsheet, the fabric wrinkling beneath his grip.Â
âI shouldâve left,â he muttered. âI know that. I shouldâve gotten up and walked away.â A pause. âBut I didnât. And I didnât stop her,â he admitted, voice lower now.Â
Your breath caught quietly in your chest.
âI stayed. I kept drinking and she keptââ He stopped himself, jaw tightening. âWe kept talking. She started touching my arm, laughing at everything I said. She⊠she listened to me like it actually mattered.â
You stayed still while a sharp, uncomfortable heat spread through you â jealousy, immediate and instinctive. The image formed before you could stop it: her sitting next to him, leaning in, smiling, touching him like she had any right to. And this time it felt so much worse. Because it wasnât just something your mind had made up. It was real.Â
Your jaw tightened.
You didnât like it. You didnât like the idea of another woman sitting that close to your husband, touching him, thinking she could have him. Especially knowing he was married. It irritated you more than you wanted to admit, a quiet, persistent anger settling under your skin. Who she thought she was?
But she wasnât the first to act like that.
Steve had always been the kind of guy girls noticed. The one they looked at a little longer than necessary. Even now that he was married. Women still flirted with him like it didnât matter. Like the ring on his finger meant nothing â or worse, like it wasnât even there.
You had seen it before and every time you had brushed it off, not at all worried. You knew Steve wasnât interested. That he didnât care about them. But this was different. Because this time⊠he had stayed. He had let her flirting.Â
In any other moment, you wouldâve snapped and asked him why. Why he hadnât walked away. Why he had stayed. But the questions died before they could reach your lips. Because you already knew the answer. Or at least part of it.
Your fingers pressed harder into your palms.
You had pushed him there. With your words. Your choices. The things you had said that night. You had told him to move on. To find someone else. And maybe in the end he had listened to you.Â
Steve dragged a hand through the bandage covering his hair, clearly unsettled now.
âAnd it felt good for a minute,â he exhaled, almost bitterly, dropping his gaze.Â
For a second, you forgot how to breathe. The words hit deeper than anything else. Your throat went dry, your pulse quickening as something fragile inside you shifted. You swallowed, slowly, painfully. You wanted to ask him what he meant. What kind of good. And how far it had gone. But the words wouldnât come out. They stayed lodged in your chest, tangled with everything else you were feeling â jealousy, guilt, fear.Â
How good Kirsten had made him feel? Better than you?
âEverything you said that night kept⊠echoing in my head,â he added more quietly. âAbout moving on. About finding someone else.â He let out a short, humorless breath. âAnd I donât know if I was trying to prove something, or just ââ He hesitated. âOr just stop thinking about you for five minutes.â Another pause. âMaybe I just wanted to see if I could do it,â he admitted, voice rough now. âIf you were actually right and I could⊠move on as you had said.â
His gaze dropped, sighing.
âItâs stupid. I know, â he muttered. âBut I wasnât really thinking. Not clearly, at least.â
Silence fell again, heavier than before.
âI shouldâve left,â he repeated under his breath. âBut I didnât.â
He swallowed.
âAnd thenâŠâ His voice faltered, uncertainty creeping back in. âI â she â we ââ
Frustration flickered across his face as the memory slipped out of reach again.
âJesus⊠I⊠I donât remember,â he muttered under his breath. âItâs all messed up in my head.â
He let out a small, disbelieving breath, shaking his head. âI â I donât even remember her name.â A hollow laugh slipped out, but there was no real amusement in it. âI swear, I donât,â he added quickly, almost desperately, like he needed you to believe that. As if that detail changed anything. As if it made things better. âI donât remember.â
He sounded wrecked.
Ashamed.
You couldnât look at him. Your vision blurred as your eyes filled with tears, your focus dropping to your hands resting in your lap. For a second, you just sat there, breathing through the tightness in your chest. You squeezed your eyes, hard.Â
Then, barely above a whisper.Â
âKirsten.â
Steve turned toward you, his brow furrowing. âWhat?â
You lifted your gaze to him, quickly brushing the tears from your cheeks with the back of your fingers. âKirsten,â you said quietly. âThe girl. Thatâs her name.â
A beat.
âWaitââ His confusion deepened, something sharper slipping in right after. âHow⊠how do you know that?â
âShe ââ You cleared your throat and went on. âShe came here. A few days ago. While you were still in a coma.â You paused, watching his reaction carefully. âShe wanted to see how you were. And we⊠talked. She told me everything, Steve.â
Silence fell over the room.
For a second, Steve just stared at you, like he hadnât fully understood. Then something in his expression shifted â confusion twisting into something closer to panic. He shook his head once. Then again. Faster.
âWaitâno, Iâ I donât know what she told you, but Iââ His voice stumbled over itself, his breathing picking up. âWe didnâtâ I meanââ He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair, careful around the bandage. âI swear to you, nothing happened. At leastâ I donât think it did. I would remember that,â he added, almost to himself, his voice faltering.
His eyes searched yours, desperate now.
âMy memories are messed up, okay? I told you, theyâre not clear, but I wouldnâtââ He shook his head again, more forcefully this time. âI couldnât. Not to you, notââ He broke off, frustrated, dragging a hand down his face. âI mean, yeah, maybe Iâ I mightâve flirted a little, I donât know, I was drunk and pissed and not thinking straight, but I wouldnâtââ
He stopped, breath uneven, clearly spiraling, trying to fill in the gaps before they could turn into something worse.
You couldnât help it.
A small smile tugged at your lips.
You tried to hide it, pressing them together, but it was there.Â
He was unraveling in front of you, so visibly shaken, so desperate to explain himself, to fix something he wasnât even sure he had broken.
When you were the one who had broken everything.Â
It did something to you.Â
âSteve,â you said, a little gentler now, but still firmly.
But it seemed like he didnât hear you.Â
âI didnât do anything, I didnât â I mean, I donât think I did, I wouldnât justââ He exhaled sharply, shaking his head again. âGod, I sound like an idiot, I justâ I need you to know that I would neverââ
âSteve,â you repeated, louder this time.Â
He stopped, meeting your eyes.
âStop,â you added. âI know everything.â
For a second, he didnât move. Then his expression shifted â tight, uncertain, almost bracing for impact. His shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched, like he was already preparing for whatever version of the story he thought you had heard.
You could see in his face â the fear, the guilt, the way he was already punishing himself for something he wasnât even sure he had done.Â
Your gaze dropped briefly, your fingers fidgeting restlessly in your lap. You drew in a slow breath, trying to keep the composure you had been holding onto since the beginning of this conversation. You glanced around briefly, your eyes unfocused as the memory of your conversation with Kirsten surfaced â clear, vivid, like it was happening all over again. You remembered every single word she had said, very detail.Â
You let yourself fall back into it as you told Steve everything.
-
You swallowed hard. âSorry for what, exactly?â you asked after a moment, your voice firm, cold, already bracing yourself for the worst.
Kirstenâs gaze shifted between you and Steve, lingering on him for just a second longer. There was hesitation in her eyes, like she wasnât sure where to begin or what to say. When she finally spoke, her voice was small, unsteady.
âThe accident,â she said, her words catching in her throat. âI⊠Iâm so, so sorry.â
You blinked, your brows furrowed.Â
Her composure broke almost immediately. A soft sob escaped her, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as if she could stop it. âIâIâm not very good at driving,â she went on, her voice trembling, uneven. âAnd it was raining⊠it was raining so hard. There was water everywhere. I could barely see the road and then ââ She shook her head quickly, sighing, like the memory overwhelmed her. âEverything happened so fast.â
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue.
âIâm really sorry. Truly. It was my car. I was driving.â Her hand lifted slightly, gesturing toward Steveâs unconscious body on the bed. âThis shouldâve happened to me. Not to him.â
You frowned, confusion settling in, pushing past everything else.Â
Her words didnât match the story you had been building in your head.
She let out a shaky breath, noticing your expression. âIf I just⊠If I hadnât offered him a ride, maybe heâd be fine right now,â she added, quieter now, guilt laced through every syllable. âItâs just that ââ
You interrupted her, unable to hold it in any longer. âWait â what?â you asked, your voice sharper than intended. âI⊠I donât understand. A ride? To where?â
Kirsten blinked, startled by your reaction.
âTo you,â she said, more cautiously now. âHe wanted to come back to you.â
You stared at her, your heart skipping a beat. The confusion only deepened, your mind struggling to keep up.
âTo me?â You repeated, almost under your breath.Â
âWe were both at the Hideout,â she continued, trying to explain, her words still uneven but clearer now. âWe were talking. Drinking. And at some point he started telling me about you.â
You held her gaze, trying to keep up. She paused, studying your face as if to make sure you were following.
âHe talked about a fight you had had earlier,â she said. âI probably shouldnât say this but⊠he was a mess. He kept saying it wasnât over. That you two still needed to talk. That he wasnât going to let it end like that.â A faint, almost sad smile flickered across her lips. âHe was⊠very determined. Drunk, yes, but determined.â
Your heart stuttered in your chest.
âAt one point, he just stood up,â she went on. âHe started looking for his keys, saying he had to go. To you.â
You felt you breath catch.Â
âBut he wasnât in any condition to drive,â she added quickly. âHe was completely wasted. I tried to stop him, but he wouldnât listen. He was so set on it.â She paused, glancing down at the floor. âAnd I donât knowâŠâ She started saying. âIt was kind of⊠romantic, in a way. Maybe a little desperate, too. But⊠romantic. The way he talked about you. The fact that he wanted to get back to you no matter what.â Her voice softened. âHe looked so heartbroken. And I don't know⊠I think I felt sorry for him.âÂ
A quiet breath left her.
âSo I offered to drive him,â she finished. âI figured⊠at least I could make sure he got there safely.â A faint, bitter exhale followed. âBesides,â she added, almost as an afterthought, âby then it was pretty clear I didnât stand a chance anyway.â
Her gaze flickered back to Steve.
âAnd then⊠well.â She gestured lightly toward him, toward the hospital bed, the machines, the silence that surrounded him. âWe â You know the rest.â
The room had fallen completely still after that, while your mind had been racing, trying to rearrange everything you thought you knew into something that made sense.Â
There was one thought that kept surfacing, louder than the rest.
You looked back at her. âHe⊠Steve was coming to me?â you asked, your voice quieter now, almost fragile, even though you already knew the answer. But a part of you needed yet another confirmation. To be sure.
Kirsten nodded without hesitation.Â
âYes.â
That single word settled deep inside your chest, echoing in your mind. If Steve was trying to come back to you, it meant thatâŠ
He hadnât been going somewhere else. Not to her. Not to anyone.
You dropped your gaze for a moment, your thoughts shifting, narrowing, until only one question remained. The one that had been haunting you from the very beginning.
You swallowed slowly before asking. âSo⊠you and Steve⊠nothing happened?â Your voice faltered slightly despite your effort to keep it steady. âAt the bar. And after, in the car. It was just⊠a ride? Thatâs all?â
Kirsten nodded again, more firmly this time.
You felt like you could breathe again, as if you had been underwater until that moment and was only now resurfacing.Â
Kirsten let out a small sigh. âLook, Iâll be honest,â she said. âWhen I saw him sitting at the bar, alone, I thoughtâŠâ She hesitated, a faint, embarrassed smile tugging at her lips. âI thought Iâd give it a shot,â she admitted.Â
A brief pause.
âBut I never really had a chance,â she added quickly.
You lifted your eyes to her again.
âYeah, he was⊠polite,â she went on. âCharming. He listened to me, answered my questions. But when he started talking⊠he only talked about you.â She shook her head slightly. âAnd he wouldnât stop.â A faint smile tugged at her lips. âI think I learned more about you than I did about him,â she added. âMy wife this, my wife that⊠and always something good.â
Something in your chest tightened.
âOnce we got in the car, he fell asleep almost immediately,â she added, a small, almost fond smile appearing despite everything. âDidnât even make it five minutes.â She shook her head slightly. âBut nothing else happened,â she said, more firmly now. âHe didnât even touch me. Not once.â
Her gaze held yours.
âYouâre⊠very lucky,â she said quietly.
For a moment, you just stared at her. Then your eyes drifted to Steve, slowly. To the man lying in that hospital bed. The man who, even at his worst, even broken and drunk and hurting, had still chosen you. Even when it would have been so easy to let go, to give in, to choose something easier. Someone else. But he hadnât. He had still tried to come back to you.Â
A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, followed by a soft smile. You shook your head faintly.
âNo,â you said, your voice thick with emotion.
You looked back at her.
âIâm the lucky one.â
-
A quiet settled in the room when you finished speaking.
Your eyes stayed fixed on Steveâs face, waiting for his reaction. You held your breath without even realizing it.
He didnât speak right away. His gaze drifted slightly, watching everywhere and nothing at the same time, as he tried to process every word, to fit it somewhere inside what he remembered. His eyes flicked to you. Then, after a moment, he spoke. âSo⊠nothing happened?â His voice low, careful as if he wasnât still sure.Â
You shook your head slowly.
For a second, he just looked at you. Then his eyes closed, and a long breath left him â deep, shaky, like it had been trapped inside his chest for several minutes. His shoulders dropped as he sank back into the pillows, tension draining from his body, giving way to something softer. Relief. Pure, unfiltered relief. Like a weight had finally been lifted.
But it didnât last.
His expression shifted again as his eyes opened, something heavier settling in their place, his gaze back on you.
âIâm sorry.â
You frowned immediately, blinking at him in confusion. âWhat? Steve, I just told you nothing happenedââ
He shook his head, slower this time, certain. âYes, it did.â
The firmness in his tone caught you off guard. There was no hesitation in his voice. No uncertainty. Just quiet conviction. He swallowed, his eyes dropping to the blanket, fingers brushing absentmindedly against the fabric.Â
âI still let her sit,â he said, his voice rougher now. âI knew what she wanted and I stillâ I didnât stop it. I stayed. And I let her⊠flirt. And IâŠâ He trailed off, jaw tightening. âI shouldnât have. It was wrong.â
You didnât speak. You werenât sure you could.
âIâm sorry,â he repeated, softer this time.
You swallowed, your eyes dropping to your hands as they twisted together in your lap. âItâs okay, Steve,â you said after a moment, your voice gentler. âReally. You donât have to apologize.â A small pause. âIâm not even in the position⊠I mean⊠I was the one who told you to move on. To find ââ
Your fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the chair.
âYeah, but I never wanted that.â His voice cut through yours, sharper this time, tinged with frustration.
You looked up at him, surprised by his tone.
âAnd I donât want it,â he added, more firmly, like he needed you to understand.
He dragged a hand through his hair, careful around the bandage, exhaling through his nose as he tried to steady himself. âI tried,â he went on after a moment, quieter now. âI tried to listen to you. To do what you said.â His gaze drifted somewhere ahead of him, unfocused. âTo imagine it. Being with someone else. Seeing if I could feel something.â A small, bitter breath left him. âIf it could be that simple.â
He let out a short, bitter breath.
âThatâs why I talked to her,â he admitted. âAt first, I thought⊠maybe.â He shook his head faintly. âBut it wasnât.â
Your chest tightened.
âBut I couldnât.â His gaze lifted, finding yours and holding it this time. âI was sitting there with her and all⊠all I could think about was you.â His voice softened, something raw slipping through. âAbout us. About how wrong everything felt. All of it. Being there, talking to her⊠even listening to her.â A small pause. âI didnât want to be there. Not really. I wanted to be home. With you. I wanted to fix things. To talk to you. Thatâs all I wanted.â
The words settled between you, heavy and real.
âBeing there with herâŠâ he continued, slower now, like he was choosing each word carefully, âit just made everything clearer.â
You held his gaze, barely breathing.Â
âI donât want her,â he said. âOr anyone else.â
Something in your chest cracked open.
âI donât need to try or imagine,â he added, his voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing on him. âBecause I have you.âÂ
Your eyes filled before you could stop them.
âYouâre the one I want,â he finished quietly. âNo matter what.â
No matter if you could give him kids or not, you thought he wanted to say.Â
You couldnât speak, your breath catching in your throat. You remembered Nancy and Robinâs words. When they had said exactly the same thing. But hearing Steve pronounce them was different. More real. It wasn't just the words of two friends trying to comfort you anymore.
Your throat tightened, emotions rising too fast, too overwhelming to put into words. You dropped your gaze for a second, blinking rapidly as tears blurred your vision.
âEverything I said that night at Nancyâs houseâŠâ he continued, softer now, his voice rough with emotion. âI meant it. Every word.â
You swallowed hard, looking back at him.
âI meant it when I said it wasnât over,â he added. âNot for me. And I think ââ
A soft knock interrupted him.
The door opened before either of you could react, and a nurse stepped inside, pushing a breakfast cart, her presence sudden and almost jarring against the intimacy of the moment. You both turned toward her at the same time.
âGood morning,â she said with a polite smile, her voice gentle, professional. âTime to eat.â
You straightened slightly, forcing a small smile in return, but you could feel it â that lingering weight between you, the conversation left hanging mid-air. When you looked back, Steve was already looking at you again.
âWe need to talk,â he said under his breath, just for you.
You nodded quickly. âI know,â you whispered. âI need to talk to you too.â
For a second, it felt instinctive to reach for him and close the distance.
But you didnât.
You stayed where you were, your hands still, your fingers curling slightly into your palms instead.
âLater, okay?â You added after a small pause.
His gaze lingered on yours for a second longer, searching for any trace of doubt. Then he gave a faint nod, his jaw tightening just slightly before his attention shifted back to the nurse â who had just asked him something neither of you had actually heard.
-
But later never seemed to come.Â
The moment you had promised each other kept slipping further away, pushed aside by one interruption after another.
Right after breakfast, they had taken Steve for a series of tests. You had watched as they wheeled him out of the room, his hand slipping from yours at the last second, his eyes lingering on you like he didnât want to let go.
When he returned, the doctor followed with good news. Steve was responding well. The scans were clear and there were no signs of complications from the head trauma. He was officially out of danger. They would keep him a few more days, just to be sure, and then discharge him.
You hadnât realized how tightly you had been holding your breath until that moment. It left you all at once, a quiet, shaky exhale as relief settled deep in your chest, loosening something that had been knotted there for days.
Not long after, the room had started to fill with visits â first one person, then two, then more. Word had spread and now everyone wanted to see Steve.Â
The energy in the room shifted completely. Where there had been tension and quiet before, there was Nancyâs calm voice, Robinâs unmistakable, relentless chatter and Dustinâs comments filling every corner of the space. Despite the bruises, the bandages, the lingering exhaustion, Steve seemed more like himself with every passing minute. He rolled his eyes at Dustin, muttered under his breath, pushed back weakly when the teasing got too much.
Dustin shook his head, arms crossed. âI still canât believe it.â
âCanât believe what?â Steve asked, already annoyed.
âThat this is how you almost died,â Dustin said. âA car accident. Seriously, dude?â
Steve stared at him in disbelief. âI didnât exactly plan it, Henderson.â
âYeah, but you survived demogorgons and Vecna,â Dustin went on. âAnd then, boom! Seatbelt takes you out.â
âFirst of all, thatâs not how seatbelts work! And secondly, that's not exactly how things went.â
âStill embarrassing,â Dustin muttered.
Steve let his head fall back against the pillow. âIâm not having this conversation.â
Everyone in the room burst out laughing, including you.
Anyone else, hearing words like demogorgons or Vecna, would have frowned in confusion.Â
But not you.
You knew exactly what they meant. Steve had told you everything about the Upside Down, not long after you had gotten together. At first, you had thought it was some elaborate story to scare you or make you laugh. But then El had shown you what she could do and suddenly, nothing had felt impossible anymore.
After that, things had started making sense â the way Steve had somehow become responsible for a group of kids, the looks they all exchanged sometimes, full of meaning you couldnât quite grasp at the time, and their silences.
Your gaze drifted back to him. He was listening, nodding along, answering when he had to but every few seconds, his eyes found you again. Like a reflex. Like he couldnât help it.
Sometimes your gazes locked for a second too long, something unspoken passing between you before you were the one to look away, your cheeks warming despite yourself. Other times, he was the one to break it, turning back to whoever was talking to him, forcing himself back into the conversation.Â
But you could tell he was waiting, watching for a moment alone with you. You had seen it more than once â him starting to say something when the room finally quieted, only for the door to open again, another voice cutting in, another interruption stealing the moment away.
Part of you was relieved for those interruptions. They gave you space and time to breathe, to think and to process everything that had already been said before adding more on top of it. Before addressing the conversation you had put on hold since before the accident.Â
When the room became too full and the noise too much, you slipped out quietly, using small excuses â coffee, water, fresh air. But more than once, you found yourself standing in front of the vending machines without taking anything, staring blankly at the rows of snacks as your mind replayed his words.
I want you. No matter what.
You leaned your shoulder against the cold wall, exhaling slowly, your arms crossing loosely over your chest.Â
Now that everything was clear â what had happened that night, what hadnât â there was nothing left to question. No more misunderstandings to hide behind. No more reasons to put off the conversation you had left unfinished. The one you had been avoiding from the beginning.
You closed your eyes for a moment as the thought settled in your chest, quiet but undeniable.
The next conversation would matter.Â
And it would change everything once again.
Maybe it would be even the last.Â
-
The door clicked shut a few minutes past eight, and for the first time in hours, the room fell quiet.
You both exhaled almost at the same time, relieved, exhausted.
You were still sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, your shoulders relaxing, when Steveâs voice broke through. âI thought theyâd never leave.â
A small laugh slipped past your lips, soft, almost whispered. âWhat can you do? Youâre basically a celebrity right now. Everyone wants to seeâŠâ You tilted your head, a teasing glint in your eyes. âWhat was it they used to call you? King Steve?â
He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head against the pillow as he remembered his âglorious daysâ in high school. âYeah⊠well, I donât feel much like a king right now.â He hesitated. âDonât think I ever really was.â
There was no bitterness in his voice. Just tired honesty.
You pushed yourself up from the couch and walked toward the bed, slow. You stopped just short of it, leaving that small, careful distance between you.
âItâs been a long day,â you said gently, smiling. âYou must be exhausted. Do you wantââ
âI want to talk.â
The words cut through yours, firm but not harsh. You stilled. For a second, you just looked at him, as if to understand whether he truly meant it.Â
And he did. You could see the determination in his eyes.
You took another step closer, your hand resting lightly on the edge of the mattress, fingers pressing into the fabric as if to steady yourself.
âNow?â you asked, your voice softer, uncertain. âAre you sure? Itâs late. We could ââ
Steve shook his head. âNo.â His voice was calm, but resolute. âI need to do this now.â
He shifted slightly against the pillows, wincing almost imperceptibly before settling again. His gaze stayed on you, steady despite the exhaustion written all over him. âI need to know that this ââ his hand lifted weakly, gesturing between the two of you ââ that this isnât just⊠temporary.â
You swallowed.
âI need to know what happens when I get out of here,â he added, his voice dipping, rougher now, choosing each word with care. âI mean between us,â he clarified, his voice quieter. His eyes flickered over your face, studying you, trying to find an answer. âYouâve been here all day, barely leaving my side. And we ââ He stopped, exhaling shakily, his gaze dropping for a second. âIt feels like before. Like nothing changed. Like nothing happened.â
Your fingers curled slightly against the mattress.
âAnd I donât know if it⊠if it is real,â he admitted. âOr if youâre acting like that just because Iâm here like this.â His jaw tensed slightly, swallowing. âBecause you feel like you have to.â
Your heart pulled tight in your chest. You shook your head almost immediately, a small, instinctive motion. You opened your mouth to speak, to tell him it wasnât true â that you really wanted to be there. For him. And not just because he was your husband.Â
But Steve didnât give you the time to reply and the words caught in your throat.
âI donât want to assume anything,â he went on, his gaze dropping briefly before finding yours again. âI donât want to think weâre okay if weâre not.â
There was no accusation in his voice â just careful, restrained fear.
âSo I need to know,â he said, more quietly now, the words slower, âif this⊠if you being here⊠means weâre not over.â His voice faltered slightly. âNot even for you.âÂ
You swallowed.
âThat youâre going to stay once Iâm out of here,â he added, barely above a murmur. âOr ifâŠâ He swallowed, his throat working visibly. âIf youâre just going to leave again.â
The words hung between you. Steveâs jaw tightened slightly, like even saying it out loud cost him something.
âBecause I canât do that again, I canât lose you again,â he admitted, his voice stripped of everything but truth. âI need to know where we stand,â he finished, softer now. âBefore I start hoping for something that isnât there,â he added under his breath, almost more to himself than to you.
Your breath caught.
âPlease,â he begged.Â
The word was barely a whisper, but it hit you harder than anything else he had said. The tears burned behind your eyes, threatening to spill. Seeing him like that â so open, so vulnerable â broke through every last defense you had left, any resistance still intact. You swallowed hard, still feeling the weight of his words pressing against your chest. Then you nodded slowly.
âOkay⊠letâs talk.â
You moved to the chair beside his bed, sitting down and turning slightly toward him. The distance between you was smaller now, but it felt heavier than it should have.
The room fell into silence.
You lifted your eyes to him, but dropped them almost immediately, your fingers fidgeting together in your lap as you searched for the right words.Â
You cleared your throat softly. âThereâs something you should know first,â you said, your voice low, hesitant. âSomething I didnât tell you this morning.â
Steve didnât speak. He just watched you, waiting. His expression tightened slightly, like he already knew he wasnât going to like what came next.
You lowered your gaze again, drawing in a slow breath. âAfter I talked to Kirsten⊠that dayâŠâ You hesitated, your lips pressing together for a second. Then, without softening it â âI called a lawyer.â
Steveâs eyes widened, his grip tightening around the bedsheets, the confusion visible in his hands.
Your fingers curled tighter together as you forced yourself to keep going, rushing on before he could say anything. Before he could think the worst.Â
âI had already contacted him before the accident,â you admitted, your voice quieter now, a trace of embarrassment creeping in. âTo start the divorce process,â you added after a brief moment of hesitation.Â
You knew that confessing it wouldn't help your position. If anything, it might make things worse. But it seemed right to you that he knew. It was the least you could do, especially after he had told you the truth that morning. Â
You looked up at him, almost cautiously, afraid of his reaction.Â
He didnât say anything right away but you saw the shift in his expression, the hurt in his eyes before he could hide it. His gaze drifted away from you, landing somewhere across the room, unfocused, nodding, like he was just processing what you had said. Then a breath left him â something close to a dry, humorless laugh.
âRight,â he muttered. âThought of everything, didnât you?â
The tone was light, but not enough to hide the hurt underneath. Enough to make your guilt grow.Â
You closed your eyes briefly, shaking your head. âNo⊠I didnât,â you said, quickly, more firmly this time. âThatâs exactly the point.â
When you opened your eyes again, you looked straight at him. âI thought I had everything figured out,â you went on, slower, more honest. âI thought I knew what I was doing. But I didnât. I wasnât thinking clearly. And I ignored many things. I ignored you. Your opinion. Your feelings. And it wasnât right.â
Your hands shifted slightly against your knees, restless.
âThatâs why I called the lawyer again,â you added, glancing away for a second before meeting his eyes again. âI told him to stop.â
Steve turned his head toward you sharply, caught off guard.
âWhat?â he asked, almost under his breath. âStop?â
His grip on the sheets loosened slightly, though not completely. His eyes searched yours carefully.Â
âReally?â
You nodded slowly. âYeah,â you said softly. âI told him not to go through with it. Not to file anything.âÂ
You let out a shaky breath, your eyes dropping for a moment before lifting back to his.
âI messed up, okay?â you said, your voice unsteady. âI know that. And Iâm⊠Iâm sorry.â
The words came out before you could stop themâand once they started, they didnât stop. âI shouldnât have done what I did,â you went on, faster now, like you needed to get it all out before you lost the nerve. âI shouldnât have made that decision on my own. Without talking to you first. Without even⊠asking you what you wanted.â
Your gaze dropped again, this time longer as shame crept in, heavy and undeniable.
âI kept telling myself that I was doing the right thing,â you admitted, a faint, bitter edge slipping into your voice. âFor you. For both of us.â
You let out a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking your head. âBut clearlyâŠâ you gestured weakly between the two of you, your throat tightening, âthatâs not what happened.â
You pushed yourself up from the chair then, unable to sit still anymore. You started pacing slowly beside his bed, your arms wrapping around yourself for a moment before dropping again.
âAnd the worst part isâŠâ you went on, your voice quieter now, more honest, âit wasnât even really about you.â You swallowed, hard. âI told myself, I told you that it was,â you said, turning slightly toward him. âBut it wasnât. Not completely, at least.â A pause. âI was just doing what I thought was right⊠for me.â
Your eyes stung, your vision blurring as you blinked quickly.
âBecause I was scared,â you admitted, your voice breaking slightly. Your hands lifted, gesturing vaguely in front of you, restless. âTerrified, actually.â
You started moving again, slower this time.Â
âScared that youâd stay with me⊠and then one day realize it was a mistake. That I was a mistake,â you said, each word heavier than the last. âAnd I didnât want to be something youâd regret.â
Your arms crossed tighter over your chest, like you were trying to hold yourself together.
Steve shifted slightly on the bed.Â
Your words had hurt him.Â
âI could neverââ he started, his voice low, tired, but you shook your head immediately, cutting him off before he could finish.
âYou donât know that, Steve,â you said gently, but firmly.
You sank back down onto the chair, your energy suddenly draining out of you all at once.Â
âAnd itâs okay. Because none of us do,â you continued, softer at first. âI donât know whatâs going to happen tomorrow⊠or in a year⊠or five.â Your voice started to pick up again, less steady now. "You could leave me one day,â you said, repeating Robinâs words, faster, more anxious. âYou could stop loving me.â A small pause. âOr maybe I could be the one to change. To want something different.â
You let out a slow breath, closing your eyes for a brief moment before looking at him again.
âI donât want that,â you added quickly before he could misunderstand your words. âObviously. Thatâs not what I want at all.â Your lips pressed together briefly. âBut itâs possible. Everything could happen.â
Silence stretched between you again, less sharp but just as heavy.
âI spent all this timeâŠâ you went on, quieter, steadier now, âfocusing only on the worst possible outcome. On the idea that youâd end up unhappy. That youâd leave.â You shook your head faintly. âI never even considered the alternative,â you admitted. âThat maybe you wouldnât. That we might actually⊠be okay in the end.â
Your eyes softened slightly as you looked at him.
âThat you might stay,â you finished.
The room fell silent. Steve sighed â a slow breath, exhausted. âWhy didnât you tell me?â he asked, his voice soft but edged with frustration. âWhy didnât you talk to me about this?â His eyes searched yours, trying to understand. âAbout what you were feeling. I wouldâve told you thatââ
You leaned back against the chair before he could finish, exhaustion washing over you all at once. Your head had started to ache somewhere along the way, a dull pressure building behind your eyes. You pressed your fingers to your temple, rubbing slowly.
âI told you, Steve. I wasâŠâ you exhaled, your voice faltering. âI was scared and⊠and a part of me didn't accept it at first. The diagnosis. I couldnât believe it.â
You hesitated, your hand dropping back into your lap, fingers curling together.
âItâŠâ you continued, your voice trembling now, thinner, like it might break at any moment. âIt felt like it wiped everything out. Every certainty I had. Everything I thought I knew about us⊠about the future⊠was gone.â Your eyes filled with tears, your gaze slipping away from him. âI think⊠a part of me just⊠convinced itself that the only way we could keep being as happy as we were⊠was if we had kids,â you admitted, swallowing hard.Â
A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.
âAnd when I found out that I might not be able toâŠâ your voice cracked, breaking under the weight of it. âI thought that was it. Because I couldnât give you the life we wanted anymore. And that we â I couldnât make you happy anymore.â
More tears followed, quiet, unstoppable now.Â
âI thought that I wouldnât be enough for you,â you whispered. âNot like that. Not in the long run. And that youâd get tired one day.â
âSo I decided to leave you,â you went on, your lips trembling. âI thought⊠if I let you go first, if I stepped away⊠youâd still have time to realize that dream with someone else. To have what youâve always wanted.â
You let out a shaky breath.
âI really thought I was doing the right thing,â you added, almost bitterly. âFor you.â A pause. âI didnât want you to sacrifice that life for me. But really⊠I was just trying to protect myself from the moment youâd realize I wasnât enough.â
Silence settled over the room, thick and heavy. For a few seconds, neither of you spoke. Steve looked at you, like he was trying to understand how you had carried all of that alone. Then he exhaled slowly.
âI didnât fall in love with the idea of a family or... six little nuggets,â he started, his voice softer now, more careful. âI fell in love with you.â He shifted slightly against the pillows, wincing just a little, uncomfortable, but he didnât stop. âI mean, yeah â I'd like to have them,â he admitted, more plainly. His gaze held yours. âBut I want them with you,â he went on. âBefore you, I didnât even think about that stuff.â He let out a small breath. âYouâre the reason I started wanting it in the first place. And Iâm with you because I love you. For a hundred reasons that have nothing to do withâŠâ He trailed off, hesitating for a second, searching for the right words. ââŠwith whether you may be fertile or not.â The way he said it was a little awkward, a little unsure â but completely sincere.
A small, unexpected laugh slipped out of you through your tears, shaky but real. Steveâs expression softened just slightly at the sound of it.
âAnd anywayâŠâ he added, a little more tentative now, like he was thinking out loud, âthere are other ways.â He shrugged faintly, one hand shifting against the blanket. âWe could adopt,â he said. âOr⊠I donât know, thereâs that thingââ he frowned slightly, trying to remember, one hand lifting before stopping halfway as if he remembered the bandages, then awkwardly scratching just beside them instead, careful, âwhatâs it called? I read about a technique somewhere. When they ââ He gestured vaguely, frustrated with himself.ââwhen they, like⊠help with that. Medically.â
âIVF,â you said quietly, finishing the thought for him. âIâve already looked into it,â you went on, your fingers twisted together in your lap, nails pressing lightly into your skin. âBut itâs expensive, Steve. Really expensive. And we canât afford that right now. Not with the mortgage, and everything elseâŠâ You shook your head faintly, your gaze dropping. âAnd itâs not even guaranteed to work.âÂ
âAnd adoptionâŠâ you added, softer now. âI thought about it. I did. But I didnât think it was something youâd want.â You hesitated, choosing your words carefully, afraid of how they might sound once spoken out loud. âYou always talked about having kids that looked like us. Your hair, my eyes⊠things like that.â A breath caught in your throat. âSo I just assumed that⊠you wouldnât want a child that ââ
You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
Steveâs brow furrowed slightly, something almost incredulous crossing his expression. âWhat?â he said, not sharply, but with quiet disbelief. âThat they wouldnât have my blood?â
He shook his head immediately, like the idea itself didnât sit right with him.
âI donât need that,â he said, more firmly now. âI donât need them to look like me. Or to be⊠biologically mine.â He hesitated for a second, like he almost didnât want to say it. âLook at me and Dustin,â he went on, his voice softening just a little. âWeâre not related, but heâsââ he let out a small breath, searching for the right word. âHeâs like my little brother. Thatâs not⊠less, just because we donât share blood.â
Your eyes lifted to him.
âAnd my students,â he added after a second, quieter now. âHalf the time I worry about them like theyâre my own kids.â A faint, almost self-aware smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. âProbably more than I should.âÂ
The smile faded as he looked back at you, more serious again.
âI donât want some perfect little version of me,â he said. âHonestly, that sounds like a nightmare.â A brief pause. âThat stuff⊠the hair, the eyes â itâs just something people say. A fantasy.â He drew in a slow breath. âWhat really matters is⊠What I want is a kid whoâs healthy. Safe. Happy.â His voice softened, warming slightly despite everything. âSomeone I can take to the park. Show how to play baseball when theyâre ready.â A small shrug. âOr not baseball. Could be anything.â
Something in your chest tightened at the image.Â
âWhat Iâm trying to say isâŠâ he continued, his voice quieter, steadier. âWe have options. We can adopt. We can try IVF, if thatâs what you want.â He glanced down briefly, then back up at you. âI donât care how much it costs. We can save, take a loan, whatever.âÂ
For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself picture it again. Not the version you used to imagine â the one where everything was easy, predictable, where the child looked like the two of you, shared your features. This time it was different, blurrier in some ways, less defined⊠but somehow still real.
You saw yourself and Steve side by side, a child between you. You couldnât quite make out their face, couldnât tell whose eyes they had â if they had either of yours at all. And for the first time, it didnât matter. Because you were happy. And that was all that mattered.
Your chest tightened, something fragile and unfamiliar unfolding inside you.
Hope.
You hadnât let yourself go there in weeks. Not since the day you had left him. Every time that image had tried to surface, you had pushed it away, shut it down before it could take shape. Like it wasnât yours anymore. Like you didnât have the right to want it.
But now⊠it didnât feel impossible. Not the way it had before.
It could exist.Â
âOrâŠâ Steve added, softer now, âwe donât do any of that.â
Your breath hitched slightly.
âWe donât have kids,â he said simply. âAnd thatâs okay too.â He held your gaze then, fully, no hesitation or uncertainty left. âI mean it,â he went on. âI donât need any of that.â His fingers loosened slightly in the sheets. âWhatever our family looks like, I want it to be with you.â A small pause. âI just want you,â he added. âThatâs it. Thatâs the only thing Iâm sure about.â He exhaled softly, almost like he was letting something go. âEverything else⊠Itâs just extra.â
Tears kept falling, unstoppable now, slipping down your cheeks as if something inside you had finally given way. This time you let them come and run free.Â
âEven after all this?â you asked, your voice trembling, fragile. You swallowed, your throat tight. âYou still want me?â
Steve didnât hesitate. He nodded, his gaze steady despite the emotion shining in his eyes. âI think Iâve been pretty clear about that,â he said quietly.
He had. But part of you still needed to hear it again. Needed to be sure.Â
Steveâs expression shifted, something more serious settling in.
âWhat about you?â he went on, softer but no less certain. âWhat do you want?â He asked, his eyes holding yours, searching. âWhat happens to us when I get out of here?â
You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands as they twisted together in your lap. You tried to steady your breathing, wiping your cheeks quickly, though the tears kept coming.Â
What do you want? The question echoed in your mind, louder than everything else.Â
âI⊠I donât know if I want to adopt,â you admitted, your voice uneven. âAnd I donât know if I want to try IVF. Not right now, at least.â You shook your head faintly, exhaling. âI think I need time to⊠to process everything first. To accept that I might not be able to have children of my own.â Your voice softened, quieter now. âI need to learn how to live with that before I can decide anything else.â
A small pause followed.Â
You still wanted kids. That hadnât changed. Even when you had tried to convince yourself otherwise or told Steve the opposite. And now you knew that maybe, in some way, there was still a possibility. Not in the way you had imagined. Not the way you had planned so many times before. But still⊠a chance. A future. With him.
Just not yet.
First, you needed to heal.Â
And maybe, somewhere along the way, the two of you could find each other again.
You lifted your eyes back to him.
âBut Iâd like to figure it out with you,â you added, more firmly this time, even if your voice still trembled. âWith you by my side. I want to see what our future looks like⊠together.â A faint, uncertain smile touched your lips. âAt least as long as we both want one. What do you say?â
Steveâs eyes grew glassy, the emotion there no longer hidden. He let out a quiet breath, something in his shoulders easing, like he had been holding it in for too long. He nodded. âIâd like that,â he said, his voice rough, unsteady. âIâd like that a lot.â
You nodded too, almost instinctively, your chest tightening with something overwhelming and warm and disbelieving all at once. You tried to wipe your tears again, but they kept coming, slipping through your fingers.
âHeyâŠâ Steve murmured, his voice softer now. He shifted slightly and extended his hand toward you, palm open. âCome here.âÂ
You hesitated for a second, glancing at the bandages, the fading bruises along his skin. âI donât want to hurt you,â you said quietly. âYour injuriesââ
âIâll be fine,â he interrupted gently, shaking his head faintly. Then, after a small pause, his voice softened even more. âItâll hurt a lot more if you keep staying that far away. Weâve been apart long enough.â A faint hint of a smile tugged at his lips.
You knew he wasnât just talking about the few steps between the chair and the bed. He was talking about all those days you had spent apart from each other. The distance you had created due to your stupid decisions. A distance that had almost cost you everything. A distance you weren't used to.Â
Since the moment you had met, you had never been this far from him for this long. Not like that. A few hours at most.
Something in your chest gave in completely, preventing you from arguing again. And you didn't even want to do it. You couldnât. You needed him just as much.Â
Carefully, you stood and moved closer, climbing onto the bed with slow, cautious movements. You made sure to avoid the worst of his injuries, adjusting yourself until you could lie beside him without causing him pain. You settled on your side, resting your head against his chest, just over his heart. Your hand followed, splayed lightly against him as if to make sure he was real. His arm came around your waist almost immediately, holding you close, firm, like he was afraid you might slip away if he didnât.
When you had both settled, you exhaled at the same time.
The warmth of his skin against yours seeped in slowly at first, then all at once. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed beneath your ear â strong, constant. It filled your senses, drowning out everything else. And just like that, something inside you unclenched. The tension that had been coiled in your body for days melted away, leaving behind a deep, heavy exhaustion you hadnât allowed yourself to feel until that moment.Â
You closed your eyes, breathing him in, letting yourself sink into him completely, into the quiet rise and fall of his chest. You let his heartbeat lulling you into something softer, calmer.
âI thought I lost you,â you whispered after a while, your voice barely audible, trembling at the edges.
Steveâs hand moved slowly along your back, up and down in a soothing rhythm.
âI told you,â he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, âyouâre not getting rid of me that easily.â
A weak breath of a laugh left you, but it broke halfway through.
âIâm sorry,â you started, but the words caught in your throat.
Your body shook before you could stop it. The tears came harder this time, deeper. Not sharp or panicked like before, but something else entirely â something that had been building for too long.
Relief.
Because he was here. Alive.
And he was okay.
Because despite everythingâeverything you had done, everything you had almost destroyedâhe was still choosing you.
And you were still there. With him.
You buried your face against him as the sobs finally broke free, quiet but uncontrollable, your fingers clutching lightly at his shirt.
You didnât hold them back this time. You didnât even try to. You just let go.
âIâm sorry,â you repeated, again and again, your voice muffled, uneven, like the words themselves werenât enough to hold everything you felt.
Steve didnât stop you. He just held you. His hand kept moving along your back, slow, steady, grounding. His other arm tightened slightly around you, anchoring you in place as you let it all out.
And for the first time in days, you stopped holding yourself together. You finally let go.Â
âHey⊠hey,â he whispered softly, his lips brushing your hair again. âItâs okay.â
You cried into his chest, your body gradually easing with every breath, every quiet sob.
âWeâre okay,â he murmured. âWeâll be fine.â His voice was firmer this time. It left no room for any doubt or uncertainty.
You clung to him a little tighter, your breathing slowly evening out, the weight inside your chest beginning to lift, little by little.
For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe it.Â
And this time â you didnât fight it.
And here we are, almost at the end of this story! I say 'almost' because⊠there will be an EPILOGUE! And then thatâs really it, even though Iâm having a hard time letting this series go. But all good things must come to an end, right? So letâs give it the ending it deserves! I canât wait for you to read it, and donât get too comfortable just yet, there are still tears ahead, so keep those tissues close.
Now returning to this last chapter... Did you really think I wouldn't give them a happy ending, or better another chance? I'm a total sucker for them. I was just messing with you, guys. Steve would never cheat on her! Sorry if I made you cry or sad in the last parts, it wasn't my intention (or maybe it was), but I wanted to keep some mystery until the end. I really hope that this chapter makes up for all my sins! Let me know what you think about it :)
