A little blurb from this request… sorry it’s only short anon xxx
Headcanons/Blurbs Masterlist Main Masterlist
The gig was still ringing in my ears long after I'd left it behind... the crash of drums, the wail of the guitar, the cheers and screams from hundreds of fans. I lived for it though, the noise, the adrenaline rush, the pints sank afterwards in the back room. The messy chaos of it all was the perfect high and I needed it like I needed the air to breathe. Over and over and over again, the nights all blurring into one until I crashed into bed, ready to wake up and do it all over again the following day.
You'd said you were having an early night but I still found myself outside your flat, phone in hand, looking up at your window. I should've left it, I should've just gone home, but I didn't. I couldn't. Not when the thought of you was buzzing through my mind much louder than any tune we’d played tonight. Maybe it was narcissistic of me to think that you'd want to see me too but I couldn't bring myself to leave. I needed to know if you were alright.
You were the only thing that cleared my head on nights like these. The only thing that cut through the noise and the chatter and kept me grounded. My calm oasis in the chaos. The sunshine breaking through my storm.
You answered on the fifth ring, voice groggy with sleep but still as sweet as honey, warming me through.
"Van... it's late."
"I know love... I just needed to hear you. Needed to hear your voice."
I leant against the wall outside your flat, looking up at your window, phone pressed to my ear and cigarette hanging between my lips.
"You needed to hear me... or see me? Which is it?"
You sighed but it wasn't a sharp sound. It was weary but I could still hear the hint of longing underneath. The fact that no matter how much I needed you, you always craved me right back. We were both the habit the other couldn't kick.
"Just hear you," I lied, and then there was a pause, followed by, "so if I look out my window right now you won't be standing there then huh?"
I didn't even need to reply. There was the quiet sound of your door catch unlocking, then I was flicking my cigarette butt to the ground and taking the stairs two at a time.
Your apartment door was open so I pushed my way through, shrugging out of my jacket and toeing off my boots, making myself at home without the invitation. You were sat on the edge of your bed wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt, your hair messy, eyes a little bleary and mascara-streaked. The sheets were rumpled around you.
"I'm not going out before you ask," you said, frowning lightly. "I was supposed to be out tonight but my friends..."
"They can fucking do one," I cut in, watched your frown turn to surprise at my animosity. "They were there tonight... at the gig," I explained. "They think I'm not good enough for you. Can see it in their eyes... the way they look at me."
"I'll be the judge of that," you said, reaching for me, grasping the collar of my shirt and pulling me closer, rising up on to your knees on the bed.
Your lips were warm and you still tasted of the wine I could see half finished on your night-stand. You tugged me closer, fingers fisting at my shirt, body pressed so sweetly into mine. I sank into the kiss, letting myself get lost for a while, the world outside your little flat fading away. There was only us... your hands, your lips, the sparks that shivered up my spine when you whispered against my mouth, "they don't know you... not like I do."
Your words hit harder than the roar of the crowd did tonight, stoking the ember of hope in my heart. I cupped your face in my hands, tilting it up to mine, eyes wide and searching as they looked into yours. "And you still want me? Even with the missed calls and the stupid drunken fights and the nights you end up in bed alone?"
You smiled, slow and genuine, that little hint of playfulness that always made me weak at the knees. "You really think I'd let anyone else into my bed at one in the morning stinking of beer and fags?"
That made me laugh, soft and breathless, thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks.
"Let's get drunk," I said on the rush of an impulse, grin stretching wide as I saw yours grow. "In here... just us, no crowds, no noise... none of your disapproving friends."
You arched a brow, smirking softly. "Oh, so you want me all to yourself do you?"
"Always."
You reached for the half empty wine bottle off the night-stand and passed it to me. I took a swig then nodded towards the window. "You got a light?"
We cracked open the window to let the night air in and the smoke out, the city humming beneath us, passing the bottle back and forth, catching up on life.
I watched you take a drag, lips pursed, eyes a little hazy but full of life. You were perfection in that moment and all I could think of was how I wanted to make you my problem. The drunk dial at 3am, messing up my bed and tearing off your clothes kind of problem.
"All I wanna know," I murmured, leaning closer, fingers gently brushing your thigh, "is how far you wanna go?"
You cocked your head back, that teasing little smile of yours playing on your lips again. "With you? All the way…”
5 years after the events of before he went (Away.) 🌸
As Van and I lay in bed, my alarm buzzed once more. This time, not at the crack of dawn at 5 AM, but at a more merciful 7 AM. The room was silent, heavy with the lingering scent of our night together. I glanced at Van, who was lying next to me, completely bare. He looked peaceful, even though I’d managed to hog all the blankets, probably leaving him cold.
“Love... seriously?” he groaned, his arms coming up to shield his eyes from the pale morning light.
“I’m sorry, Van,” I murmured, fumbling to turn the alarm off. “I just need to get up and pick up Anya. I promised your parents I’d have her back on time, and I really don’t want to be late. Plus, the kitchen is probably still a mess from last night’s snacks, and the living room—”
I sat up, already running through a mental checklist. “The living room probably has our clothes scattered everywhere, and when Anya comes back she’s going to want to—”
“Love,” Van interrupted softly, pushing himself up and cupping my face with his warm hands. His thumbs gently brushed over my cheeks, grounding me. “Hey. Morning.” His voice was thick with sleep, the corners of his lips curling into a lazy smile. “I love you.”
His words cut through my rambling, and I paused, the tension loosening in my chest. “Sorry,” I said, a little more softly. “I love you, too.”
His eyes searched mine, his smile growing. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, his tone patient, as if he had all the time in the world for me.
“Yeah,” I replied, feeling my earlier anxiety melt under his gaze. “Sorry about stealing the blanket.”
He let out a warm laugh. “I’ll allow it,” he teased, leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead. “Only because I love you too damn much.”
I managed a smile, and for a moment, the morning worries didn’t seem quite as overwhelming. Van watched me, a sleepy kind of tenderness in his eyes. “Come on,” he said, sitting up and ruffling his hair. “We’ve got time. Let’s get some coffee, maybe tidy up a little, and take it easy, yeah?”
I nodded, feeling his calmness settle into me, and reached for his hand, grateful that in moments like these, he knew exactly how to bring me back to center.
“Thanks...” I said, my voice soft, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry for being like this. I never actually felt... really at peace before.”
Van’s expression gentled even more, and he shifted to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to apologize, love,” he murmured, his gaze steady and full of understanding. “I just want to help. That’s all.”
A smile crept onto my face as I grabbed his boxers from the floor and tossed them at him. “You’re going back into Dad mode now, aren’t you, you sexy thing?”
He laughed, catching the boxers and giving me a playful, exaggerated sigh. “What can I say?” he teased, pulling them on. “Dad mode suits me. But don’t worry—I'm still your sexy thing.”
I rolled my eyes, feeling lighter as his laughter filled the room. “Fine. Just don’t get too used to being the responsible one.”
He grinned, leaning in to kiss me once more before we both got up to face the day, the warmth of his presence still lingering on my skin.
I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close and pressing myself against his warmth. We stayed like that for a few quiet seconds, his heart beating steadily under my cheek.
“Kinda don’t want to leave,” I whispered, feeling the comfort and safety of being in his embrace.
Van’s arms tightened around me, and he buried his face in my hair, sighing softly. “Then don’t,” he said, his voice low and full of longing. “We can stay like this a little longer.”
I smiled against his chest, savoring the way he held me, like he never wanted to let go. But the real world was waiting, and responsibilities still loomed. Still, in that moment, wrapped up in him, it felt like nothing else mattered.
“Dress me?” I mumbled, my voice still groggy from sleep as I looked up at him, my eyes half-lidded with lingering drowsiness.
Van chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Oh, so we’re doing that now, are we?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
I couldn’t help but smile, feeling warmth spread through me at his teasing. “Yeah,” I said, drawing out the word. “Think you can handle it, or am I asking too much?”
He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’ll do anything for you, love. Just don’t complain if I take my sweet time.”
His hands found my waist, and he slowly pulled me to sit upright, the gentleness of his touch making my heart race. “Let’s see what we can do about getting you presentable,” he said, his voice full of affectionate mischief.
I laughed, the morning feeling a little brighter with him by my side.
Van raised an eyebrow, giving me a mischievous smile as he surveyed my limited wardrobe. “Okay, so what are we going for today? Sexy businesswoman,” he started, holding up a blazer, “or... sexy yoga mom?” He picked up a pair of leggings and gave me a mock-serious nod. “Or maybe... sexy indie band fan?” He pointed to my well-worn The Strokes shirt lying in the corner.
“Why do they all have to be sexy?” I chuckled, crossing my arms and shaking my head at him.
“Because everything you wear is sexy, obviously,” he said with a smirk, stepping closer. “You’d make a paper bag look like designer couture, love.”
I rolled my eyes, feeling my cheeks flush as I grabbed the Strokes shirt from his hands. “Fine. Indie band fan it is. But only because it’s comfy.”
He grinned, giving me an approving nod. “Good choice. Plus, it makes you look like the cool girlfriend who has impeccable taste in music.”
I laughed, pulling the shirt over my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re gorgeous,” he said softly, catching me by surprise with the sincerity in his voice. “Even if you don’t see it, I do.”
I felt my heart flutter, and I couldn’t help but smile, feeling that warmth settle over me again.
“So... I’m the girlfriend now?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but my voice wavered just a bit, betraying the nerves fluttering in my chest.
Van’s eyes softened, and he took a step closer, his fingers brushing a stray piece of hair from my face. “You’re whatever you want to be, love,” he said, his voice gentle and full of meaning.
I bit my lip, my gaze flickering to his, searching for reassurance. “I guess... I guess girlfriend it is, right? Baby steps?” I finally managed, my heart pounding in my chest.
His lips curved into a warm smile, and he cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing a slow, comforting pattern. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning in until our foreheads touched. “Girlfriend it is. And I couldn’t be happier about it.”
I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders melting away as I let myself fall into the moment. Being with Van felt like stepping into something both new and familiar, like coming home to a place I never knew I needed.
“It’s the first time…” I murmured, a wry smile pulling at my lips. “We’ve known each other for almost ten years, and it’s the first time we’re actually boyfriend and girlfriend. And I’m fucking 26,” I added, cringing as I remembered all those years, the missed opportunities, the moments that almost happened but didn’t.
Van laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made my embarrassment feel less heavy. “Hey, there’s no rulebook for this,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Some of the best things take time, right?”
I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “It’s just... I feel like we’re catching up on something that should’ve happened ages ago.”
He gently pulled my hands away, his touch grounding me. “Nah,” he said, his voice softening. “I think it’s happening exactly when it’s supposed to. We both needed to go through all our messy years to get here, to this moment, where it’s real.”
I looked into his eyes, and the sincerity there made me believe him. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was the perfect time, even if it had taken longer than expected.
“Okay, flirt,” I said, giving him a playful shove. “Let’s get this done now. We definitely need to change those sheets.” I glanced at the bed, the evidence of our night together all too obvious, and couldn’t help but cringe a little.
Van let out an embarrassed chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, fair point. We made quite the mess, didn’t we?” His cheeks flushed slightly, and I couldn’t help but grin at how endearingly bashful he looked.
I shook my head, teasing him. “You’d think you’d be less embarrassed, considering you were the instigator.”
He raised his eyebrows, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “Me? The instigator? Are we rewriting history now, love?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a lower, playful tone. “Because I distinctly remember you being the one who—”
I cut him off, smacking a pillow into his chest. “Okay, okay! Point taken. Just help me fix the bed, and we’ll call it even.”
Van laughed, catching the pillow and throwing it back onto the bed. “Fine, but only because I’m a gentleman,” he said, winking. As we stripped the sheets together, the laughter and easy banter made the morning feel like another memory worth keeping.
“Can you believe we went five times?” Van said, his tone half astonished, half smug.
“Van,” I groaned, covering my face with both hands. “Please don’t.”
He laughed, entirely too proud of himself. “I’m just impressed, love. Maybe I should start following Lorenzo’s workout plan, too. Clearly, it works.”
I peeked at him from behind my fingers, shaking my head with a laugh. “I’d pay to see that. And for the record, as much as I was impressed, it was three times. The other two were just you begging to go down on me.”
His mouth fell open in mock offense. “Hey, you begged to go down on me, too!”
I felt a flush creep up my neck and shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “First of all, I didn’t beg! I politely asked cause I felt like I had to repay the favor,” I said, leaning in a little closer. “Plus, you have a nice little friend down there I seem to quite enjoy.”
Van’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Little?” he repeated, feigning hurt. “Love, that’s just cruel.”
I laughed, unable to contain myself, and he pulled me into his arms, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re lucky I like your teasing,” he said, his voice warm and playful.
“Lucky for both of us,” I murmured, smiling up at him.
Van’s arms tightened around me, and he tilted his head down, his lips brushing against my ear. “You know,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, “I’m starting to think you like getting me all flustered.”
I bit my lip, a giggle escaping as I pulled back to look at him. “Maybe just a little,” I admitted. “It’s fun seeing Mr. Confident get a taste of his own medicine.”
He raised an eyebrow, that familiar, wicked gleam in his eyes. “Oh, is that so? You’re playing with fire, love.”
“Am I?” I challenged, folding my arms and giving him a defiant look. “What are you gonna do about it?”
His grin turned devilish, and before I knew it, he scooped me up effortlessly, making me yelp in surprise. “You asked for it,” he said, carrying me across the room as I laughed, playfully trying to wriggle out of his hold.
“Van! Put me down!” I gasped, breathless from giggling.
“Not until you admit I’m the one who leaves you speechless,” he teased, holding me tighter.
I threw my head back, laughing harder. “Fine, fine! You leave me speechless! Happy?”
He finally set me back on my feet but kept his arms around me, his face hovering just inches from mine. “Very,” he said, his voice softer now. His eyes searched mine, and the laughter faded into something more tender.
For a moment, we stood there, our smiles lingering as the room settled into a warm, comfortable quiet. I reached up, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “You know, even after everything,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “I’m still not used to this.”
He tilted his head, curiosity in his gaze. “Not used to what?”
“Feeling this... happy,” I confessed. “With you.”
Van’s expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss me gently, like a silent promise that he’d do whatever it took to keep making me feel this way. “Well,” he murmured, his lips just brushing mine, “get used to it, love. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
As we got the house ready, life seemed simple. Van busied himself with changing the sheets on the bed, while I straightened up the living room, gathering Anya’s toys scattered across the floor. I held up a Barbie doll covered in paint marks, a smile tugging at my lips.
“Is it crazy that I’m already missing her?” I asked, the quiet feeling of longing settling in my chest.
Van paused, looking over at me, his expression soft. “No, it’s not,” he said, setting the fresh pillowcases in place. “I’m missing her too, love.”
I hugged the doll to my chest, glancing around at the little traces of her presence that filled our home. But then my gaze drifted to Van, and warmth bloomed in my heart. “But I also like this,” I said, meeting his eyes. “Us. I like having time to breathe with you.”
He walked over, closing the distance between us, and pulled me into his arms. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and affectionate. “Because I like it, too. Just... being with you. No rush, no distractions.”
I leaned into him, letting the safety of his embrace wrap around me. “It feels good,” I whispered. “Like we’re finally finding our rhythm.”
Van kissed the top of my head, his fingers brushing soothingly down my back. “We deserve this,” he said quietly. “A little bit of peace. A little bit of happiness.” I smiled at him as we both got back to cleaning the place.
Finally, after what felt like forever, me and Van were both sweaty, but proud at the sight of our home with everything in place.
“Done! And it’s still only 10 a.m.!” I said, a smile spreading across my face as I took in the tidied-up house. “We only have to pick up Anya after lunch.”
Van flashed me a mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with that playful charm. “That deserves a little celebration, don’t you think, love?” he said, winking.
I laughed, rolling my eyes at his cheekiness. “Well, first, we’re both taking a shower,” I replied, raising an eyebrow at him. “And then we’ll see about that celebration of yours.”
Van stepped closer, his hands slipping around my waist. “I’ll take it, babe,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. “But you better not leave me hanging.”
I tilted my head up to look at him, biting back a smile. “Only if you promise not to hog all the hot water,” I shot back, pulling away and heading toward the bathroom.
He laughed, following close behind. “We’ll see about that,” he called after me, and the sound of his laughter filled the house, making everything feel light and easy, like this happiness was something we could hold onto.
As we made our way to the bathroom, Van’s hand found mine, and he pulled me back just before I reached the door. He spun me around, a playful smirk lighting up his face. “Hold on,” he said, his voice teasing. “I don’t think I ever agreed to not stealing all the hot water.”
I crossed my arms, giving him a mock stern look. “Van, if you leave me with freezing water, you’re doing laundry for the next month.”
He put on an exaggerated, thoughtful expression, like he was weighing his options. “Hmm, laundry *and* folding? Or just washing?”
“All of it,” I insisted, trying to suppress a grin.
He sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine, I promise to share.” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “You should be happy your boyfriend is a generous guy,” he added, winking.
I couldn’t help but laugh, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the bathroom. “Generous and completely full of yourself,” I teased.
“Only when it comes to you,” he said, his voice dropping a bit lower as his gaze softened.
My heart gave a small, involuntary flutter. Even in the simplest moments, he had this way of making me feel special, like I was the only thing that mattered to him. “Well,” I said, letting a small smile play on my lips, “let’s see if you can keep up that generosity in the shower.”
Van’s grin widened. “Challenge accepted, love.”
We stepped into the bathroom, laughter echoing between us, and the day stretched ahead, full of possibilities. It was one of those rare, perfect mornings where the world felt just right—no rush, no worries, just the two of us, completely in sync.
The bathroom quickly filled with steam as the hot water poured from the shower, fogging up the mirror and warming the air. I stepped forward, testing the temperature, and Van wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing his lips to my neck.
“You ready?” he murmured, his breath tickling my skin.
I turned in his arms, looking up at him with a playful grin. “Always,” I said, stepping into the water and tugging him in with me. The warmth cascaded over us, washing away the remnants of the morning chill.
Van reached for the soap, but I grabbed it first, holding it behind my back. “What are you doing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Just making sure you’re not taking over this whole shower,” I teased, squeezing some of the soap into my hands. I rubbed it between my palms before placing my soapy hands against his chest, slowly spreading the lather over his skin.
He closed his eyes, a content smile spreading across his face. “Mmm, maybe I should let you take over,” he murmured.
I giggled, trailing my hands over his shoulders and down his arms. “I thought so.”
Van opened his eyes, leaning in closer until our noses almost touched. “You’re really enjoying this, huh?” he whispered, his voice low and full of affection.
“Maybe,” I admitted, my hands still gliding over his skin. “It’s not every day I get to spoil you a little.”
He tilted his head, pressing his lips to mine in a gentle, lingering kiss. The water poured over us, but it was nothing compared to the warmth radiating from his touch. When we finally pulled back, he looked at me with a tenderness that made my heart swell.
“I’m the lucky one,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over my cheek.
“Van,” I whispered, feeling a familiar, fluttery feeling in my chest. But before I could melt any further, he reached for the soap, slipping it out of my grasp with a triumphant grin.
“My turn,” he said, flashing me that playful smile that always made me weak.
Van gently ran the soapy bar over my shoulders, taking his time as he moved down my arms. His touch was soft and unhurried, each movement full of care and affection. I closed my eyes, feeling the tension melt away, the weight of the past few days dissolving in the heat of the shower and his hands on my skin.
“You know,” he said, his voice breaking through the hum of the water, “if I had it my way, I’d keep us here all morning.”
I laughed, opening my eyes to find him staring at me with that familiar, teasing smile. “We can’t stay in here forever, Van,” I said. “We’d get pruny.”
He made a face, pretending to be horrified. “Pruny? Us? No way. We’d be the sexiest prunes ever.”
I laughed again, the sound light and free. “You have way too much confidence,” I teased, pushing him back a little.
He caught my hand, holding it over his heart. “I only have confidence because of you, love,” he said, his voice softening. “You make everything feel possible. Even sexy prunes.”
The tenderness in his words made my heart skip a beat, and I found myself leaning into him, pressing a kiss to his lips. It was soft, gentle, and full of all the feelings I couldn’t quite put into words. When we pulled back, he cupped my face in his hands, his gaze so warm and full of adoration.
“I really do love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too,” I said, my voice just as soft. The vulnerability between us felt raw and beautiful, a fragile connection made stronger by every shared moment.
Van smiled, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “All right,” he said, pulling back with a playful glint in his eyes. “We should probably finish up before we actually run out of hot water.”
I groaned, half-tempted to keep him here just a little longer. But reality called, and I knew our perfect morning had to move forward eventually. “Fine,” I said, stepping back under the water to rinse off. “But don’t think you’re off the hook for that celebration you mentioned earlier.”
He laughed, the sound echoing off the shower tiles. “I wouldn’t dream of it, love.”
And as we wrapped up, with the steam swirling around us and laughter still lingering in the air, I knew that no matter how chaotic life got, moments like this made everything worthwhile. Moments with him, with us. Together.
We dried off and made our way to the freshly cleaned bed, the scent of clean sheets mixing with the lingering warmth of our shower. Van practically flopped down onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh, his hair still damp and sticking up in wild directions.
“Okay, love,” he said, stretching out and sinking into the soft comforter. “Now I get why you wake up at 7 a.m. to clean the house. This feels fucking amazing.”
“I told you,” I replied with a wink, sliding beneath the covers beside him. The moment I settled in, his arms found me and pulled me close, our bodies fitting together perfectly.
“Hmmm, I like this,” he murmured, his voice low and content.
I snuggled into him, feeling the safety of his embrace. “Yeah,” I whispered, “I like it too.”
He was silent for a moment, his hands gently tracing circles along my back, and then he spoke, his voice full of nostalgia. “Remember when you were pregnant?” he said softly. “I loved having my hands on your belly. I still do it out of reflex sometimes, but there’s nothing there now... just your washboard abs.”
“Oh my god, Van,” I laughed, nudging him playfully. “I don’t have washboard abs. But yeah... I miss it too. I miss how you’d hold my belly, like you were already protecting her before she even got here.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You were so beautiful then, you know? You still are, but there was something about seeing you carrying our little one. Made me feel... complete.”
“I remember you were a walking hardness back then,” I teased, raising an eyebrow as I glanced at him with a playful grin.
He smirked, his fingers gently tracing the curve of my waist. “Yeah, well, can you blame me? You were a very sexy pregnant lady,” he replied, his voice full of admiration.
I couldn’t help but laugh, my heart swelling with warmth at his words. “I’m glad you think so.”
He leaned in, brushing his lips against my forehead before pulling back slightly to meet my eyes. “It’s true, love. You’ve always been beautiful. Not just then, but now. Always.”
I felt my chest tighten in the best way, a smile tugging at my lips. “You’re just saying that to get me in bed,” I teased, my voice light but full of affection.
He grinned, his gaze turning a little more intense as he moved closer. “Maybe,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “but what if I really mean it?”
I couldn’t help myself, the playful challenge in my voice bubbling up. “Wanna show me if you still mean that?”
Van’s eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief, and I could feel the tension shift between us, the air thick with unspoken words. He leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that was soft at first, but quickly deepened, the heat building between us.
The kiss was a reminder of everything we shared, of the connection that had always been there, even in the quiet moments, even in the messiness of life. It wasn’t just about the attraction, it was about us, and what we had built together.
When we finally pulled back, breathless and smiling, he rested his forehead against mine, his voice hushed and sincere. “I’ve always meant it, love. Every word.”
Van's grin widened, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Do you think we have time for one more round?" he teased, leaning in until his lips were just a breath away from mine. "Maybe we can make it to five?"
I laughed, the sound bubbling out of me despite the blush creeping up my neck. "Jesus Christ," I muttered, swatting at his chest, though I couldn’t stop smiling. "Maybe if you take your time with me, then I can keep up."
His eyebrows shot up, that playful spark lighting up his face. "Take my time, huh? Oh, I can definitely do that." He moved in closer, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to my neck, trailing his lips in a way that made my breath hitch. "But you might regret asking for that, love. I’m very thorough."
As Van grabbed me by the waist, settling me on top of him, I gasped softly. He didn’t give me time to process before his lips captured mine in a heated kiss, making my body melt against him.
"You feel so good, love. Fuck, you smell like heaven," he murmured, his voice low and rough against my ear.
"You feel good too," I whispered, my hands sliding along his back, feeling every flex and shift of his muscles.
Van let out a soft groan, his lips brushing over my neck. "Not good, baby. Perfect. You're perfect."
I closed my eyes, letting his words settle over me like a warm blanket Just as I was finally relaxing into him, my phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, breaking the moment.
"Love," he groaned, his head tipping back in frustration. "Are you kidding me right now?"
I winced apologetically. "I’m sorry, baby. I only get notifications for Anya’s school and..." I glanced at the screen, "your mom." I held it up for him to see.
He let out a long, dramatic sigh, his head falling back against the pillow in defeat as I grabbed the phone.
"Hi, Mary! Everything okay?" I said, trying to sound cheerful.
"Just fine, love!" Mary’s voice was warm and cheerful. "I was just wondering if you could come pick up Anya a little earlier today. We’re heading to church."
"Oh... right," I stammered, realizing I’d forgotten today was Sunday. "She usually goes on Fridays, so I thought we’d pick her up at noon like always."
"Don’t worry, love, she’s already eaten. She’s just waiting for you two."
"Okay, thank you, Mary. We’ll be there in a second."
I hung up and looked at Van, who was staring at me like his entire morning had just been stolen. "No way this is happening," he groaned.
"Welcome to parenthood, rockstar," I teased, sliding off him and grabbing my clothes. "Now get dressed. We’ve got a little one to pick up."
Van groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes like the weight of the world had just crushed him. "Parenthood sucks sometimes, you know that?"
I laughed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and pulling it on. "Yeah? Tell that to the little girl who worships the ground you walk on."
He peeked at me from under his arm, his lips curving into a lopsided grin. "Alright, you win. But I was really looking forward to more of this." He gestured lazily at the bed, his voice dipping into that teasing, sultry tone that always made my stomach flip.
I leaned over him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "You’ll live, Dad. Anya comes first."
"Always," he said, his voice softening as he sat up, reaching for his sweatpants. "But you’re not off the hook. Tonight, you’re all mine."
I smirked, walking to the closet to grab something for myself. "We’ll see about that."
He laughed, the sound warm and rich as he threw on a hoodie and ruffled his already messy hair. "Oh, we’ll definitely see."
As we headed out the door, Van grabbed the car keys, twirling them around his finger. "Think she’s gonna make me play tea party again?"
"She’s been talking about a dance recital all week, so brace yourself," I said, biting back a grin.
He groaned, but there was no mistaking the sparkle in his eyes. "Parenthood, huh? It’s not so bad when it comes with you two."
I rolled my eyes, but my heart swelled as we climbed into the car. "Alright, let’s go rescue our little ballerina."
We drove to pick up Anya from her grandparents' house. As soon as she spotted us, her face lit up, and she ran over, wrapping her little arms around me.
“Hi, baby! Did you have fun?” I asked, holding her close.
“Yeah!” she said brightly, but then her expression shifted to one of tired determination. “But I wanna go home now.”
I smiled and smoothed down her hair. “I know, baby. We are heading home.”
Anya glanced between Van and me, her curious little mind already working. “Mommy, what did you and Daddy do when I wasn’t there?”
Van and I exchanged a quick, wide-eyed look, and I had to fight to keep from bursting into laughter. I bit my lip, trying to compose myself, while Van did the same, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle his amusement.
I quickly cleared my throat, forcing a casual smile. “Well, sweetie,” I began, choosing my words carefully, “Mommy and Daddy did a lot of grown-up stuff. We cleaned the house, made breakfast, and even took a little nap.”
Van nodded, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tried to keep a straight face. “Yep, lots of napping,” he added with a playful grin, trying not to laugh.
Anya eyed us suspiciously, her small eyebrows furrowing. “You sure you didn’t do anything else?” she pressed.
I swallowed my laughter and nodded solemnly. “Absolutely sure,” I promised. “Just boring grown-up things, nothing exciting.”
Seemingly satisfied, Anya let out a little sigh and clutched her favorite Barbie. “Okay. But I still wanna go home now.”
Van reached over, gently squeezing her hand. “Home it is, princess,” he said warmly, his voice full of love.
As we buckled Anya into her car seat and began the drive back, I caught Van’s eye. We both broke into quiet, knowing smiles, a silent understanding passing between us. Moments like these, full of laughter and love, made everything feel perfectly right.
The drive back home felt warm and familiar, the afternoon sun casting golden rays through the windows. Anya chatted away in the back seat, telling us all about the games she played and the snacks she had with her grandparents. Her excitement made me smile, and I couldn’t help but glance at Van, who was listening intently, nodding along and responding with genuine interest.
When we finally pulled into the driveway, Anya unbuckled herself eagerly. “Home!” she cheered, bouncing in her seat.
Van and I got out and helped her with her things, her little arms clutching her favorite toys as we made our way inside. Once we stepped through the door, Anya took off, scattering her belongings across the living room, and I sighed with a playful roll of my eyes.
“Well, there goes the clean house,” I joked, nudging Van.
He chuckled, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “It was spotless for a whole two hours. That’s a new record,” he teased.
I leaned into him, feeling his warmth and the familiar sense of belonging. “I’ll take it,” I replied, a soft smile on my lips. Being home with my family, chaos and all, was exactly where I wanted to be.
As the night settled in, I tucked Anya into her bed, smoothing out her blankets while Van sat beside me, his presence comforting and familiar. Anya looked up at me with her big, curious eyes, and I knew the question she’d asked before still lingered in her mind.
“Anya,” I began gently, brushing a stray curl from her forehead, “remember how you asked Mommy about marriage?”
Her eyes lit up with recognition. “Yes, Mommy! Are you gonna marry Daddy?” she asked eagerly.
I couldn’t help but smile at her innocence. “Well... maybe someday, sweetie,” I said, my voice soft. “But what I want you to know is that me and your Daddy love each other very much. I don’t want you to think anything different just because we didn’t have a wedding, okay?”
Anya seemed to think about that for a moment, her small brows knitting together. “But why didn’t you?”
I shared a glance with Van, who gave me a reassuring smile. “Well, honey,” I continued, “your Daddy was always traveling with his music, and I wanted to focus on my job. We just never really found the right time for that.”
Anya nodded slowly, trying to piece it together. “So... you didn’t have time?”
“Exactly,” Van chimed in, his voice warm and steady. “But that doesn’t change how much we love each other—or you.”
Anya seemed satisfied with that answer, her little face relaxing into a sleepy smile. “Okay, Mommy. I love you and Daddy too.”
I leaned down to kiss her forehead, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. “We love you more than anything, baby girl. Sweet dreams.”
Van and I watched her eyes flutter closed, her small hand clutching her favorite stuffed animal. As we tiptoed out of the room, Van reached for my hand, lacing his fingers with mine.
“You handled that beautifully,” he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple.
I squeezed his hand, my heart full. “We make a pretty good team,” I whispered back, feeling the kind of contentment that made everything in the world feel right.
As we settled into bed, Van pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me and his body pressing gently against mine. I felt his lips brush my neck, warm and teasing, and I let out a sigh.
“Come on, Van…” I warned, trying to sound stern, though the laughter in my voice probably gave me away.
“What?” he murmured innocently, his lips still grazing my skin. “We’re just cuddling.”
“Then why are you kissing my neck?” I challenged, my voice softening despite myself.
He chuckled, the deep sound vibrating against my shoulder. “Are kisses not allowed during cuddles?”
“Not your wet sensual kisses,” I shot back, trying not to shiver as he nuzzled closer.
“My what?” he said, breaking into laughter. “Seriously?”
I turned to face him, trying to keep my resolve. “Van, we can’t... not when Anya’s home.”
"I know, baby, I'm sorry. I'm just... not used to this," he murmured, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
"Yeah? Bet you're used to fucking anyone you want, anytime, being as loud as you can," I teased, the pang of jealousy tightening in my chest.
He shot me a look, half-amused, half-serious. "Hey! I don't want to fuck anyone but you. And honestly, I'm just thinking about us right now."
I smiled, but couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. "Yeah well…we were loud teenagers."
I couldn’t help but grin at the memory, feeling a mix of amusement and jealousy that had settled in my chest. “Yeah, loud and wild,” He teased with a playful glint in his eyes.
“I honestly don’t know how we lasted that long.”
Van smirked, leaning in close as if to kiss me, but instead, his lips hovered near mine. “You think you could handle that again?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.
The memories of our reckless passion, our intense nights together, flickered in my mind, and a wave of desire rushed through me. I pushed it down quickly, trying to keep the moment light. “Sometimes we'd go for hour-long sessions,” I said, keeping the teasing going. “Your face would get all red, and you’d look at me like you were pissed off, trying to focus not to finish the minute you got inside me. I couldn't help but laugh.”
Van’s eyes sparkled with amusement, though there was a hint of something else—something deeper. “Okay, stop it!” he laughed, rolling his eyes, but I could see the playful challenge in them. “You're really not gonna let me forget that, are you?”
I shook my head, smiling wide. “Not a chance. It’s too good of a memory to forget.”
Van smirked, a playful glint in his eyes as he teased me. "Yeah, well, I guess you prefer my pissed-off face to Lorenzo bursting in five minutes, huh?"
I groaned, rolling my eyes, feeling a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Van! I can't believe you!” I shot back, pushing him lightly.
He chuckled, his hands still holding me close as he leaned in to kiss my forehead. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t come at me with teasing if you can't handle it, my love," he teased again, his voice low and playful.
"You should be glad I'm in love with you," I said, rolling my eyes, feeling the warmth of his gaze on me.
Van smirked, his eyes narrowing playfully. "What was that? Say it again," he teased, his voice low and full of intent.
I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head. "You're so cocky," I said, trying to push him off, but he just pulled me closer.
"I’ve been waiting for years, love," he said, his tone shifting, becoming more serious. There was a depth to his words that made my heart skip.
I turned to face him directly, my voice softening. "I know… I’m in love with you. I’ve always been," I confessed, the words slipping out like they were meant to be said, as if they were always waiting for this moment.
Van’s expression softened, his eyes glistening with emotion. "Me too, baby," he whispered, his voice trembling just a little. "Never stopped loving you, even for a second." His gaze fell to the ring on his finger, a reminder of how long he’d held onto this love.
I felt my heart swell, the weight of everything we’d been through, the years, the struggles, all of it coming together in this quiet moment. "I’m so glad we finally got here," I murmured, touching the ring, feeling the connection between us deepen.
He nodded, his lips brushing against my forehead as he pulled me closer. "Yeah, me too. I’d wait my whole life for you, (Y/N)”
I smiled at his words, kissing his lips softly as I settled more comfortably into the pillows. Van pulled the covers behind my back, tucking me in gently, then adjusted my pajama bottoms with a careful, loving touch.
"Love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead, his voice full of warmth and tenderness.
I held onto his hand, the comfort of his presence wrapping around me like a blanket. As I drifted off to sleep, I felt a deep sense of peace, knowing that no matter what came next, we were in this together. My last thought before sleep took over was how lucky I was to have him by my side.
I woke up the next day at the usual time, slipping into my workout routine without hesitation. Van, as usual, had decided to join in, though his version of “joining” was moving from our bed to the couch, where he promptly fell back asleep. I couldn’t help but find it cute how he still wanted to be near me, even if he wasn’t exactly putting in the same effort.
After finishing my set, I walked over to him, leaning down to squeeze his shoulder gently. “Morning, Dad,” I said with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to his arm. He stirred slightly, groaning as he blinked his eyes open.
“Can you please get Anya ready while I take a shower?” I asked, trying not to laugh at the sight of him still half asleep.
Van mumbled something incoherent, but I could see him slowly nodding. “Yeah, yeah... just a minute,” he murmured, still fighting to wake up. I gave him one last kiss on the cheek before heading toward the bathroom, smiling at the thought of us juggling parenthood together, even in our sleepy haze.
When I finally finished up, the house felt unusually quiet. I walked into the living room and froze for a moment at the sight before me—Anya, already in her school clothes, sitting peacefully next to Van, who was still napping on the couch. They both had their mouths open in the exact same way, and it made me smile. Sometimes, I forgot just how much of Van was still in her. It was almost surreal how much they resembled each other.
I shook my head, chuckling softly as I walked over to them. “Okay, okay. Nap time is over,” I teased gently, my voice light but affectionate. I turned to Anya. “Say goodbye to daddy, Any.” I said with a playful grin.
“Bye, princess,” Van mumbled sleepily, his voice thick with drowsiness as he reached up to pat Anya’s head. “Daddy loves you.”
Anya smiled, her face lighting up despite the grogginess. “Love you, Daddy,” she whispered, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the couch to grab her bag.
I couldn't help but smile at the sweetness of the moment, watching them share that simple, loving exchange.
“Bye, my love.” I leaned in, giving Van a soft kiss on the lips, savoring the quiet moment. Just as I pulled away, Anya groaned loudly from the doorway.
"Ew, mommy!" she said, making a face.
Van and I both laughed, the sound of our shared amusement filling the room. "I think she’s not a fan of the public displays of affection," Van teased, ruffling Anya's hair.
"Definitely not," I replied with a grin, my heart light as I watched the two of them interact. It was moments like these that made everything feel right.
“I’m going to the studio today, by the way,” Van said casually as I grabbed my purse.
“Oh, that’s amazing, love! Do you need me to pick you up? Because Anya has ballet—”
“It’s all good, love,” he interrupted, smiling. “I’ll just call an Uber, and then you can swing by before you pick her up.”
“Alright. Love you.”
“Love you too,” he replied, leaning in to give me a quick kiss before I headed out.
As we got into the car, Anya’s sleepiness slowly faded, and she started her usual round of questions.
“Mommy, why did you kiss daddy on the mouth?”
I glanced at her before responding, trying to keep it simple. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s just... a thing grownups do when they really like each other.”
“Why only grownups do it?”
“Well, baby, because kids have other ways to show they like each other. You can hug, play together, and be friends,” I explained, smiling softly.
“So when you’re grown up, you can kiss your friends on the mouth?” she asked, her little brow furrowing in curiosity.
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Well, not exactly that, love,” I said, trying to clarify. “Your daddy and I are... married practically. We’re way past the friends stage.”
Anya thought for a moment, then asked, “Have you ever kissed someone else, or only dad?”
I hesitated, the lie slipping out easily. “Only dad, baby.” I said, smiling reassuringly at her.
“You really like daddy, mommy?” Anya asked, her big eyes looking up at me with innocence.
I smiled softly. “Yes, Any, of course. I love him.”
Anya’s expression shifted, a frown starting to form. “Then why didn’t he live with us before?”
The question hit me a little harder than I expected, and I felt the weight of it. My heart sank as I thought of Van and I could feel her eyes searching for answers, wanting to understand.
“Anya, baby, sometimes grownups make mistakes, and sometimes things don’t happen the way we want them to. But your daddy and I... we’ve always loved each other. We just needed time to figure things out,” I said, my voice soft but steady.
She was quiet for a moment, processing my words.
“Does that mean he’s not going to leave me again?” she asked, her voice small but hopeful.
I reached over, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, giving her a warm smile. “No, sweetheart, he’s not.”
“I’m happy daddy’s with us, mommy. I like it when we’re all together,” Anya said, her voice filled with pure joy.
I smiled at her, feeling a warmth in my chest. “I know, love. Mommy’s happy too. You and daddy are my favorite people in the whole world.”
“You two are my favorite people too! And Bernie! And Taylor, and Grandma, and Grandpa, and Ms. Pat,” Anya said with a grin.
Then she started rattling off an entire list of people she liked, her little voice bubbling with excitement. I couldn’t help but chuckle as she went on, her enthusiasm lighting up the car.
“Alright, sweetheart, is there anyone not on your list?” I teased gently, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.
She paused dramatically, her finger tapping her chin. “Hmm…nope!”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Good to know you love everybody, baby.”
I said goodbye to Anya and headed to my office, ready to tackle the day. The morning flew by as I worked through my to-do list, managing to clear most of my tasks before lunchtime.
As I sat down to eat with the girls, my phone buzzed with a message from Van:
At the studio, love you xx.
I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.
“Uh-oh,” Martha said, noticing my expression. “Look at her! That’s the kind of grin you only get when Prince Charming texts you. How’s your muscle-man doing?”
“Oh…” I hesitated, glancing down at my plate. “Sorry guys, I forgot to tell you but..Lorenzo and I… we’re not together anymore.”
“What?” they all exclaimed, their voices overlapping in disbelief.
“Yeah,” I nodded, trying to keep my tone light. “It’s been over for a few months now. I just wasn’t ready for a relationship with him—not with Anya still so young and trying to figure everything out. It didn’t feel right. That’s why he’s been…well, gone.”
Jayda reached over, running her fingers gently through my hair in a comforting gesture. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Listen, I’m sure you’re doing the absolute best for your little one, but don’t forget—you deserve some happiness too.”
“But I am!” I said quickly, looking around at their sympathetic faces. “I am happy… truly.”
Jayda gave me a knowing smile but didn’t push. “As long as you’re sure, sweetheart.”
Martha shook her head, leaning back in her chair. “Well, I don’t know how you do it. Balancing everything while looking that good and staying positive? You’re making us all look bad.”
The table chuckled, and I laughed along, grateful for their support despite the awkward topic.
“Wait, so if it’s not Lorenzo…” Martha leaned forward, her voice full of curiosity. “Then who’s got you grinning like that?”
"Just someone special," I said, trying to keep my voice casual as I took a sip of water.
The table went silent for a beat, and then Jayda gasped dramatically. "Oh my God, there’s someone else!"
Martha nearly choked on her coffee. "Wait, wait, wait. You mean to tell us there’s a new guy?”
I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks as they all leaned in, eager for details. "It’s not like that," I said quickly. "He’s not exactly... new."
Jayda squinted at me suspiciously. “Not new? So, what, you’ve been hiding this from us? Spill. Who is he?"
I shrugged, trying to play it off. "It’s… complicated. But he’s special. That’s all you need to know for now."
Martha groaned, throwing her hands in the air. "Oh, come on, (Y/N). You’re killing us here!"
Before I could answer, another coworker chimed in. “Girl, if my man could get me smiling like that, I’d be posting it all over social media. Don’t be shy—tell us who it is!”
“Fine, fine,” I relented, laughing. “He’s… someone I’ve known for a long time. He’s kind, he makes me laugh, and he’s great with Anya.”
Jayda’s jaw dropped. “Great with Anya? Oh, this is serious. When do we meet him?”
"Never, if you keep grilling me like this," I teased, shaking my head.
Martha leaned forward, smirking. "Well, whoever he is, he better treat you like the queen you are. Or else he’ll have to deal with us."
I smiled softly, thinking of Van. "Don’t worry. He already does."
“Well, you seem happy,” one of them said with a warm smile. “That’s what matters.”
“Thanks,” I replied, feeling the warmth of their support.
As I glanced back at my phone, it buzzed again with another message from Van:
“Thinking about you. Can’t wait to see you later, love.“
I bit my lip to stifle the grin, but the girls noticed anyway.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Martha teased. “She’s gone! That man’s got her wrapped around his finger!”
“Oh my God,” I said, shaking my head. “You guys are ridiculous. Let me eat my lunch in peace!”
“Honestly, (Y/N), you’re living the life,” Jayda said, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “You know what they say, right? Never marry, and you’ll never leave the honeymoon phase. Bet you two get into it every night, huh?”
“Jayda!” I exclaimed, absolutely mortified as the rest of the table burst out laughing.
“Girl, don’t be shy,” she teased, waving me off. “We’ve known each other for almost ten years. You can’t expect us to believe there isn’t some serious heat between you and that man.” She said pointing at my phone.
I buried my face in my hands. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m just saying,” Jayda continued. “You’re lucky. You’re young, single. And I? I can’t even remember what making love to my husband feels like.”
“Oh, please,” Martha chimed in, rolling her eyes. “The worst is when you *do* have sex, and they just lie and say they enjoyed it—but you know they just wanted it to be over.”
"Let me tell you something, girlie," Jayda said, leaning back in her chair with an exaggerated sigh. "Once you start living together, the magic dies. They start to hate you."
"Wow, okay… that's a lot," I said, blinking at the bluntness of her words.
Jayda waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just saying, enjoy the fun while it lasts because—"
"—men are gonna be men," Martha chimed in, nodding along. "They always are. And you should know that by now, (Y/N). I mean, honestly, where’s Anya’s father?"
That caught me off guard. "I… well, he’s… he’s actually in the picture now," I said firmly, straightening in my seat.
Their expressions shifted, clearly surprised. Jayda leaned in a bit. "Wait, really? I thought he only saw Anya every now and then. You never talk about him.”
I hesitated, then smiled softly. "Yeah, he’s here. He’s… he’s very much here."
Martha raised an eyebrow. "So, what’s the deal, then? If he’s around, why isn’t he more—"
I cut her off gently. "It’s complicated, okay? But he’s a good dad, and we’re figuring things out together. It’s not perfect, but it’s… ours."
Jayda gave me a knowing look and squeezed my arm. "That’s all that matters, honey. If it works for you and Anya, that’s what counts."
I smiled, the warmth of it cutting through the conversation’s weight. "We’re doing just fine," I said, more to myself than anyone else.
Martha’s eyes softened. "Well, good. Because you and that little girl deserve the world."
After my shift, Anya had ballet class, and getting her quiet and still so I could do her hair was always a bit of a challenge. As I gently applied some gel to tame her soft curls, she winced and scrunched up her face.
"I don’t like it, Mommy!" she complained, her voice small and upset. "Why do we have to use it?"
I sighed softly, brushing a few stray strands back into place. "Love, it’s just to keep your hair neat so it doesn’t fall into your face while you’re dancing," I explained patiently.
"But I don’t like it! It’s sticky and yucky," she protested, her eyes pleading.
"I know, Any," I said, crouching down to meet her eyes. "Mommy will find a different gel for next time, I promise. But it’s almost time for class now. Can you help Mommy out just for today, please?"
Anya pouted, her lips curving downward in a way that tugged at my heart. But after a moment of consideration, she nodded reluctantly. "Okay… but only for today," she said, crossing her arms.
A smile broke out on my face, and I kissed her forehead. "Thank you, sweetheart. You’re the best," I said, feeling grateful for her tiny compromise.
She sighed dramatically but let me finish, and soon enough, we were ready to head out the door, both of us a little more at ease.
Once Anya was ready, she slipped into her little ballet flats, still grumbling about the gel but holding onto my hand as we walked out the door. The evening air was crisp, and the leaves crunched under our feet as we made our way to the car.
"Can we get ice cream after ballet class?" Anya asked, her mood already lifting with the promise of a treat.
I glanced down at her, her hopeful eyes making it hard to say no. "If you work hard in class and listen to your teacher, we can," I said with a smile.
Her face lit up, and she bounced a little, her excitement overflowing. "I promise I’ll be the best listener ever, Mommy!"
I chuckled as I helped her into her car seat, buckling her in securely. "That's my girl," I said, closing the door and taking a moment to breathe before getting into the driver’s seat. As we drove, I couldn’t help but think about how the little moments, like these, made all the chaos and sleepless nights worth it.
By the time we arrived at the dance studio, Anya was practically vibrating with excitement. I watched her run inside, her tiny form dwarfed by her ballet bag, and felt my heart swell.
Just then, my phone buzzed with a text from Van.
How’s my favorite dancer and her mom doing?
We’re good. She’s determined to earn some post-ballet ice cream, and I’m just trying to keep up.
Sounds like I’m missing out. he replied, followed by a heart emoji.
I smiled at the screen, feeling a warmth settle over me. Even in the busiest, most stressful days, moments like these with Van and Anya reminded me how lucky I was.
As I started the car, I glanced at Anya through the rearview mirror. "Any, do you like taking ballet?" I asked, curious about how she really felt about the classes.
She paused for a moment, thinking. "Sometimes," she admitted, swinging her feet back and forth. "I like wearing the tutu and dancing with my friends, but I don’t like it when my feet hurt or when I can’t get the moves right."
I nodded, understanding her mixed feelings. "It's okay to feel that way, love. Ballet can be really tough, but I'm so proud of you for trying your best," I said, giving her an encouraging smile.
She grinned back at me, her eyes lighting up. "Thanks, Mommy. I wanna get better so I can be a ballerina princess!"
I laughed. "I think you'd make the perfect ballerina princess," I said, and Anya giggled, her laughter filling the car as we headed toward the studio. Moments like this, hearing her dreams and worries, made every hectic morning feel worthwhile.
When I left Anya at her class, I headed over to pick up Van at the studio. As he walked toward the car, guitar case slung over his shoulder, a smile spread across his face.
"Hey, you," I said, unlocking the door for him.
"Hey, baby," he replied, leaning in to kiss my cheek softly as he climbed into the passenger seat. His familiar scent of cologne and the faint smell of his guitar callouses filled the space. He closed the door and set his guitar down carefully, turning to look at me with a warm expression.
I reached over to brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. "How was the session?"
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Productive. Andy had some wild ideas, but I think we got something good. How’s Anya?"
"Her usual sassy self," I said, laughing. "I had to bribe her into sitting still for her hair, but she’s excited for ballet. It's adorable but exhausting."
Van chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sounds about right. You’re incredible, you know that?"
I felt my heart warm at his words, and I reached over to squeeze his hand. "Thanks, but you might have to deal with her post-class energy today. Think you're up for the challenge?"
He grinned, lifting our joined hands to kiss my knuckles. "Always."
I smiled, feeling a calm sort of joy settle over me as I pulled the car into gear, ready to take on the rest of the day together.
Autumn had been strangely humid up to now, September had been warm and a little claustrophobic, but with October had come a sudden chill. One which had crept in over the course of the evening and left me caught off guard without a coat as I walked home from work.
It was late, too late to be out on my own but the streets were lit and it was a busy night so I wasn't worried. Still, I didn't dawdle on the dark edges of town. I pulled my cardigan tighter around my waist and kept my head down, walking quickly, eyes on my feet and on my breath which condensed in white whispy clouds when it hit the cold night.
There was a fine mist in the air, thin rain, the kind you only really seem to get in the north of England, and it stung my cheeks whenever the wind picked up.
It wasn't the night to be walking in but I didn't have a choice. I'd not passed my driving test and the bus routes near my flat left a lot to be desired. It was a fifteen minute walk from the bus stop to my flat and that was if you were being quick about it.
I shivered as I stopped at the traffic lights. From the bottom of the hill I could see the warm glow of lights in each of the bars, could hear the rabble falling in and out of smoking areas, different songs leaking through open doors and clashing in the middle of the road. The little streams of rainwater running down the middle of the road caught the light from the traffic and the tarmac glistened in pretty shades of red amber and green and had it not been for the cold pinching my nose and stinging my hands I'd have stopped a little longer to admire the scene.
As it was however I was freezing, tired and growing more inpatient by the second. All I wanted was to be home, in my bed, warm and dry and drifting off to sleep.
So I stepped out into the road before the red man had swapped out, I only checked for traffic coming from my right, and when I heard the beeping of someone's horn it was already too late.
Time didn't slow but I did. I froze, my mind blacking out at the sight of the four by four skidding to a halt, travelling too fast to slow before it hit me. I heard someone screaming behind me from the pavement, a woman who sounded like her blood had curdled. Sounded like she'd just watched a girl die.
But she hadn't because somehow it hadn't hit me.
One second I was frozen, gazing at a set of headlights speeding towards me, the next I felt the air knocked out of me, my body flung across the street, my fall to the floor cushioned by someone else.
Someone who lay beneath me just as breathless as I was. Their groaned out "fuck," airy and distant.
I didn't move straight away, too starry eyed and startled to realise that I could move.
"Meadow..." Weezed the lad underneath me, their arm which had been wrapped around my waist loosening so that I might sit up and free their crushed ribs.
I recognised their voice before I recognised the name they'd choked out but when I did my brow knitted in confusion.
How could they possibly know who I was. They'd thrown themselves across the street out of nowhere, they couldn't possibly have known who they were saving before they'd done it.
"Fuckin hell Med," they groaned, their voice tight and breathy as they pushed themselves up, "no one ever teach you the highway code... Them stop look an listen hedgehogs retire before you started school or what..."
When he pushed himself up I realised just who it was who had saved me. My heart dropping to my stomach at the sight of Johnny Bond. One of my "uncles" best friends...
"Were you following me?" I snapped, not surprised by my realisation, nor when rather than deny the obvious truth he just laughed my horror off and shook his head.
"Saved your life Med, now usually.." he said lowering his voice, one arm around my shoulder as he steered me away from the crowd of gawping onlookers, "usually when someone saves your life like, common courtesys to say thank you..."
"You were following me..." I said again, not about to thank him for something he shouldn't have been there to do.
"Aye and it's a good thing too ain't it or you'd be sorry as a pancake splattered across the main road..."
"I told Van to stop spying on me..."
"Ain't spying..."
"Is spying." I growled hands shoved in my pockets not bothering to try and escape his arm around my shoulders, knowing he was only steering me in the direction I was going anyway. To The Angel, my uncles bar at the top of the hill with its halo of neon held above it by two rust iron bars.
I sang there every Thursday and Friday night as per an agreement made between my "uncle" Van and my dad when my dad was still alive and Van had intended to keep him that way. The agreement had been that our family would always work for his, and when my father had been alive that had meant as a soldier, as cannon fodder for whatever malicious scheme Van had planned. Now I was the only member of my family capable of "working" but I was a girl and so the only real use Van had for me was entertainment. So I sang in his bar every weekend and I let him show me off to anyone he thought he could impress with me. Be it my talents or my pretty face.
I resented him for it and I spent my weekends miserable but I did it because it kept my mother safe, looked after, fed and off the streets.
She'd lost everything when my dad had died, Van had taken everything to pay my father's debts until I was the only asset left.
So I'd all but accepted that I'd be doing this for as long as I could and that when I stopped being useful I'd have to find some other way to look after her.
"So.." Johnny trailed, whistling his S to try and cut through my irritation as we walked up the hill towards The Angel. When I didn't say anything he nudged me in the ribs, "how was work?"
"Hard," I said giving nothing away, starring straight ahead and hoping he would leave it at that. I'd always made it clear that singing in the bars was as close to them as I got. Beyond my duty to Van I wanted nothing else to do with any of them. I'd long since learnt however that my wants meant nothing to that man. For example this wasn't the first time I'd caught Johnny Bond spying on me.
"Oh come on treacle don't give us that face..." He chuckled seemingly not understanding the temper on me. The sulk his face had plunged me into.
"I told Van to stop spying on me Johnny and now you're fuckin followin me home from work!" I snapped shoving my hands in the pockets of my hoodie. Still I didn't bother trying to speed up or shrug him off, I knew there was no point arguing with my uncles friends.
"Ah come on ducklin..." he said, his relentless smile effervescent, "you don't get angry wi' your uncle Johnny..." And unfortunately for me he was right. Of all my uncles friends it was my "uncle" Johnny I was most forgiving of. That was probably why Van had tasked him with spying on me. "An anyway it ain't spyin, it's protection..."
"And if I turn down your protection who is it thats gonna start threatening me eh? Me uncle Larry?" I asked with a childishly bitchy smile.
"Don't be like that Meadow," he warned, his tone friendly enough, the look in his eyes just serious enough to remind me who I was and who I worked for. The choices I really had, how few.
"Oh come on uncle Johnny you don't get mad at your little ducklin" I narrowed my eyes at him, the sweet smile I gave him a saccharine threat.
"No," he said, the arm around my shoulder tucking me into his side a little closer, "luckily for you, I don't..." But when he kept me tucked into his side as we walked I knew he wasn't finished, that this argument was going to carry on until I relented and gave in.
"Been a year now Johnny, whoever killed me dad hasn't even tried to come for me and me mam..."
"As long as you work for Van," he cut me off, "there'll be a price on your head... And Meadow doll between you and me eh, your dad pissed off a lot of people in his life..."
"But that ain't got owt do with me." I crossed my arms over my chest stubbornly, stopping where I stood outside the side door to the Angel. Behind the door I could hear music playing, could hear the rumble of the regulars chat getting louder by the second.
When I stepped up to the microphone I'd hush the whole room, but for as long as I remained outside arguing with Johnny they'd carry on shouting over one another and the songs playing from the jukebox.
"That don't stop vengeful men and you know it love," he said lighting s cigarette and nodding to the door. "Go on inside it's cold, left you a little present in the back room..." He said with a soft smile, blowing his cigarette smoke up to the sky so as not to let me breath it in. A courtesy which was unnecessary because I'd smoked my way through work that day anyway, uncle Johnny just didn't know it.
"A gift?" I raised my brow cynically, knowing I was being cold and a little unfair. Johnny had always been soft on me and the odd gift left in the back room, or on my doorstep wasn't exactly unusual.
So I left him behind to smoke his cigarette and shiver in the evenings cold, his breath rising before him like dry ice.
Inside the bar it was warm and dark, the condensation on the windows catching the red and blue of the fairy lights strung up in the windows. I shrugged my hoodie off as I moved between the lazily discarded furniture which littered the back room. I noted with a smirk the chair whose arm I'd watched get snapped off the weekend before. A drunken brawl had broken out over a spilt pint and a game of darts and when Johnny had stepped in to diffuse the situation he'd drawn blood with the broken arm he'd dug into the neck of the man who'd kicked off.
He hadn't done any real damage though, Johnny was always careful. Far more careful than any of the other men I spent my weekends with at The Angel.
I smirked as I walked my fingers along the splintered wood, remembering how Johnny had turned back to me where I stood behind the bar, how he'd bowed down elegantly to me and blessed me to "sing him out."
Ever the comedian, the eccentric, and always so charming when it came to me.
That was when I saw the "gift" he'd left hanging from the mirror on the wall. I couldn't help but smirk and roll my eyes at the floor length deep blue velvet dress he'd left for me to wear that evening. The set of black balled slippers I wore every week left neatly for me too. However if I'd thought the dress was the gift I was sorely mistaken.
"Fuck sake John," I smirked sighing as I reached to take the dress down from the hanger. It was ever so soft between my fingers as I held it, admiring the rich night sky shade of blue. It would suit me perfectly, I'd look, as Johnny often told me, divine.
I shimmied out of my jeans and studied myself in the mirror. The outline of my tired working girls body making me feel completely unworthy of the luxury Johnny was always showering me with.
I had a bruise on my waist from having been kicked by a patient at the hospital where I worked two days ago and all my muscles ached when I tried to bend or stretch. It spread across my abdomen like an ugly purple flower, yellowing at the edges turning that sickly shade of green which bruises so often fade to.
"Oh well," I sighed softly to myself as I stepped into the dress and closed my eyes.
When the back door opened I didn't flinch because I knew it would be Johnny and when I felt warm fingers on my lower back I let John examine the damage.
"This from work or do I need to pay someone a visit tonight ducklin?" He asked, his voice soft and low, full of a concern so genuine that for a moment it was easy to forgive him for having followed me there and back again.
"It's from work Johnny don't worry about it..." I shook my head stepping out of the hold his hand on my waist had me cupped in gently.
"Get a new job and maybe I won't," he said with a smirk, turning me around to look at him, holding my chin between his fingers before patting my cheek. "Such a canny lass."
"What's all this for Johnny?" I asked checking my face in the mirror and looking for the lipstick I left in the drawer,"Van trying to impress someone tonight or?"
"That hurts Meadow," he frowned reaching his hand into his jacket pocket, taking out a little red box, "you know I don't buy you presents for anythin like that.."
"Then why?" I turned back to him with a frown, a frown which only etched deeper when he told me to turn back around.
"Cause," he shrugged brushing my hair from my neck as he spoke. His fingers moved lightly over my skin, just cool enough to leave goosebumps, "I think the prettiest girl in the world deserves the prettiest things..." he sneered sarcastically at me in the mirror before placing a silver choker around my neck, fastening the clasp delicately.
"Johnny no!" I gasped starring back at my reflection in awe, my hand hovering above my heart in shock, "I can't accept this..." I said gazing back at what was the most beautiful piece of jewellery I'd ever seen.
"Ahh come on now ducklin it ain't that bad is it?"
"Is it..." I trailed off catching my bottom lip between my teeth, hesitating to ask him because it felt rude, "is it stolen?"
His crooked smile lingered then, a chuckle escaping him only cut off when he saw the seriousness in my eyes as I hesitated to brush my fingers over the diamonds which studded the silver stems entwined around my neck.
"No doll," he said brushing my hair away from my cheek, his breath warm as it fanned over my jaw.
He was stood so close to me then that I was sure I could feel his heart beating just behind mine. The delicate way he held me with his arms around my waist, his cheek skimming my cheek, making it hard for me to think straight.
"Then why..." I started, my voice barely a trembling whisper. I was stunned, I couldn't take my eyes off the glistening jewels, the tiny flowers and silver leaves which now adorned my neck.
"It looks like a meadow don't you agree?" He asked letting his own fingers dance over the glittering stones, the celestial meadow he'd given to me.
"Uhuh," I said though his answer really wasn't sufficient to stop my clouded thoughts.
"Well then," he said with a small smirk, stepping away from me leaving me suddenly aware of the chill in the room, "I think that answers your question ducklin,"
"Believe me Johnny it does not..."
"Well that's a shame doll," he said offering me a lazy smile as he gestured to the door which lead onto the stage, "because your adoring fans await and the hour grows later by the second..."
I followed his gaze to the clock on the wall and sighed because he was right and I knew there was no more time left to waist together in the back room. I had a job to do after all and even if Van wasn't trying to impress anyone in particular this evening he wouldn't be impressed if I walked onto that stage late.
"I'll have a drink sent up to you," he said pulling me into a lazy hug, kissing my cheek before I pulled away and turned my back on him. I only hesitated for a moment before turning back to catch one last glance at the only friendly sight I'd see for the rest of the evening.
"Uncle Johnny..." I said, my voice surprising me when it shook, it's softness surprising him too so that he turned to me with a small frown. I left us lingering in silence for a second, my voice catching in my throat, a sudden emotion creeping up on me. One which I couldn't quite place.
"Yeah doll?"
"It's beautiful... Thank you..."
"Like I said..." He shrugged stepping into the open back doorway, sending me a wink, one final soft touch.
Then he left me alone to walk out onto the stage. One last breath, one last moment of peace before I had to become someone else. An ice cold, celestial girl. An angel with an angels voice. Pristine...
But it was easier to pretend when I was decorated with Johnny's gifts and as I stepped up to the microphone and the room bristled with expectation, I felt all the more grateful for his kindness. Because every set of eyes in the room had turned to me. I couldn't see them because the lights were so bright but I could feel them. So many sets of eyes watching me. All those people awaiting my first song.
I didn't usually get stage fright, I wasn't generally a nervous girl, but that night something felt different.
That night for the first night since I'd started working those long evenings at The Angel, I felt watched.
I just didn't realise why until it was much too late.
"Yeah?" You hum softly, testing him, lips hovering near his neck as you gently tug his head back. "You like that?"
Words: 4.3k // Single Dad Van // hair pulling
Kinktober Masterlist Main Masterlist
It wasn't something that you'd planned to do, it was just an impulse that came over you one evening. A chance you took that paid off. You and Van were cuddled up on the sofa together flicking through Netflix, relishing each other's company, enjoying the sensation of just being close. It had become a regular occurrence since you'd settled into your blossoming relationship, as soon as the kids had drifted off to sleep after their bedtime stories you two retreated to the sofa.
Over a short space of time platonic cuddles had escalated into tender touches and heated kisses, and now here you were again on a random weeknight, snuggling into his body heat, your head resting against his chest, bodies closely entwined.
"D'ya wanna watch something else?" He murmurs quietly, the hand that was resting on your waist moving away to reach for the tv remote. "Just say if ya do, I'm not really fussed about what we watch... and you don't seem to be paying much attention to this."
Truth be told, you've not taken in a moment of what's happening on the tv, you've been too busy watching him. I mean, how could you not? He's absolutely breath-taking in the gentle glow emanating from the screen, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, the soft constellation of freckles that fall across the bridge of his nose, the sharp line of his jaw that you're dying to stretch up and run your lips down. He almost looks too good to be real in the soft lighting, and the thought makes your chest ache, a longing that's mirrored in the heat blooming between your legs. You'd be pressing them together if you weren't lying with one hooked over Van's thigh, your bodies flush against each other, your combined body heat as rousing as it is comforting.
"Is it really that obvious I'm not properly watching?" You giggle coyly, embarrassed that you've been caught out, a little shy around him still.
"Well, you've been staring at me for like the last ten minutes," he chuckles, tilting his head down towards you with a soft smirk. "Was starting to get paranoid. Thought maybe I had something on my face."
Your cheeks warm as you consider whether to confess, giving in when you see the glow of affection in his eyes.
"It's not that. I was just... thinking actually..."
"Oh yeah? What about?"
You pause, shifting against him, your breath catching as you feel the outline of his body pressing against your hip through his sweatpants. The hand that's been curled around his shoulder instinctively moves up to brush back a stray lock of hair that's fallen across his brow.
"About you... about us..."
You let the word linger between you, the weight of it humming like a secret you'd finally acknowledged, the air charged with promise.
"Is that so?"
"Uh-huh... was thinking about doing this..."
You let your fingers comb through his hair, the strands slipping softly between your fingers, your nails gently raking over his scalp. His eyes flicker shut at your touch, luxuriating in the feeling, and you carefully watch his face, every minute detail laid bare so close like this.
"God, that feels so nice love... you know I love it when you do that."
His voice is soft but the hitch in his breath gives him away. Your pulse skips a beat. It's the way he says it, warm and dreamy with a hint of something needier. You bury your hand deeper, winding your knuckles around the soft waves, curling your grip just that little bit tighter.
The thought comes to you in a rush. What if you just... tugged it slightly? Just a little. Not enough for it to hurt, just enough for him to feel it... really feel it... that delicious kind of ache that makes you arch your neck and feel wanted... needed... owned... you just don't know whether he'll be down for it or not.
"Mmm... that feels amazing... uhhhh..."
Fuck... he doesn't just like it... he loves it. Your chest tightens at his words, the needy strain of his voice. His lashes flutter, a tiny groan escaping his lips that reverberates deep down in your core.
"Yeah?" You hum softly, testing him, lips hovering near his neck as you gently tug his head back. "You like that?"
"You've no idea," he says, voice rough, his body pressing harder into yours as if he's craving more contact. "Could let you do this to me all night... it feels good... really good."
So you don't stop. Emboldened by the blissed out curve of his lips and the way he leans into your touch you work your fingers deeper still, guided by the way his breathing roughens, fanning warm across your chest.
You pull harder this time, enough to make him suck in a breath. His eyes flick open to lock on to yours and they're darker than you've ever seen them, a little wild. For a moment you panic... freezing dread tipping over you like ice water. Have you gone too far? Have you hurt him?
But then his lips part, and instead of pushing you away he lets out a low, broken moan that vibrates against your skin. His fingers clutch around your hip-bone, gripping you tighter as he pushes his pelvis against you.
"Shit love... you're full of surprises tonight... but I like it."
The wildness in his eyes intensifies and you give his hair another purposeful tug, maintaining the pressure. This time he lets out a full-on pornographic moan, burying his face into your neck as you let out a soft giggle, full of breathless excitement at this new-found revelation which is sending exhilarating sparks of arousal racing through your veins.
"Shhh! Oh my god you need to be quiet!" You gasp, your laughter hushed. "The kids... what if they hear? What if they wake up?"
"Right now I don't care," he chuckles gruffly, breathing heavy and ragged as he begins to rain hot, wet kisses all over your neck. "Just don't stop... please... whatever you do, don't stop."
And who are you to deny him when he begs so sweetly? You hum softly, winding your fingers around his locks and giving another tug, the kind you know will make his scalp tingle. He groans in response, his head pulled back by the pressure you're exerting, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy with arousal. He looks divine.
"Babe... I hope you realise I'm finding it really hard keeping it together here," he says, head tipping forward so he can mouth at the tender flesh of your throat. "It's fucking crazy what you do to me... but I think you already knew that."
You're not even sure that he's fully conscious of his actions in the moment, his hips appearing to take on a mind of their own as he begins to grinds himself lightly against your leg. You can distinctly feel him through the thin material of his sweats, the thick, rigid length of him sliding temptingly against your thigh. It's intoxicating... how quickly you've got him riled up, how a few well-placed touches have got him melting under your touch. It makes you feel powerful and desired, spurring you on.
"I really didn't know if you'd like it..." you whisper, your own voice shaky, tight with need.
Your body's a mass of seething desire and you so desperately want to abandon your inhibitions but you're conscious of his children sleeping soundly upstairs. Are you taking things too far? Is it too risky? Maybe you should wait until you have the house to yourselves. You can't quite bring yourself to stop though. Despite your concerns you're still wondering how far you can take this, whether you need to slow it down and keep it PG 13 or whether you can ramp up the temperature to boiling point... really give him something to whimper about. You've been wondering how his gorgeous face might look when he's falling apart for you... what sort of pretty sounds you could draw from him when your hand's wrapped tightly around his cock. The delicious thought lights a fire in your already overheated core and you know there's no putting it out. You roll your hips upwards to bump against his, your free hand splayed over his chest to feel his heartbeat thundering wildly under your palm.
"I think it's pretty obvious how much I like it, don't you?" He says, and before you can reply his lips crash against yours, warm and insistent, stealing the breath from your lungs.
It's different to the nights when the kisses you shared on this very sofa were soft and tender, both of you tentative at the start of your fledgling relationship. In contrast this is pure hunger with an edge of urgency that you've never felt from him before. Wet, sloppy, desperate kisses that shiver you through. Hips rocking in a rhythmic wave against you, a steady grind that floods your lower body with heat. He groans into your mouth, body shifting over yours to press you hard against the sofa cushions. His hands grip your waist, then brush your sides before slipping under the hem of your t-shirt to trail softly over your ribs. His touch is impatient, like he can't decide where to focus on next. Like he can't get enough of you.
"Don't think I've ever needed anyone the way I need you right now," he breathes, confirming your thoughts, the throaty rasp in his voice sending sparks skittering up your spine.
"What... is it... that you need?" You utter in between kisses, your heart pounding wildly. "Tell me what you want."
Of course you know damn well what it is but you want to hear him say it, you want to hear the hunger and the strain in his voice, you want to hear him beg.
"You," he replies without hesitation. "All of you... fuck... the things you do to me babe... been dreaming about this since we first met... every fucking night if ya must know."
His hand slides down to squeeze your thigh, grabbing handfuls of flesh as he hoists your leg up higher, pulling you flush against him. The action makes you gasp, the stiffness of his arousal pressing right against your core, the heat of him searing your skin even through layers of clothing. Your fingers tighten instinctively in his hair, forcing another sinful groan from his lips that you eagerly swallow down.
"But what about the kids?" You worry, breaking away to catch your breath, your chest heaving beneath him. "We really shouldn't..."
"We can be quiet," he insists, and then his lips curl into a grin full of mischief. "Although if ya keep pulling my hair like that I can't promise anything!"
You have to bite down on your lip to stifle the giggle that bubbles up in your throat. "Think I might have unlocked one of your secret kinks."
"I don't know what it is," he grins back, "all I do know is if you carry on doing it I'm not gonna be able to hold back from doing all those filthy things I've been dreaming about."
Your heart races. "Maybe that was the plan all along," you smirk.
And then his mouth is on yours again, ever fiercer and hungrier than before, his kisses all tongue and teeth and hot panted breath. Every roll of his body presses his hard length against your clothed core and the friction's bordering on unbearable now, wetness flooding between your thighs and soaking your panties through. A needy whimper escapes you and the sound fuels his need even more, hips rocking harder, desperate movements like he couldn't control himself even if he wanted to.
"God I need you love, need you so fucking bad..." he whines into your mouth. "You got so me hard already."
Your heart thuds at his desperation, the needy tone in his voice and his dirty admission giving you the green light to satisfy the urges that are clamouring inside your head.
Your hand finally leaves his hair, trailing down the line of his jaw and then further down, over the plane of his chest and his ribs, further still until you come to a stop, teasingly brushing the waistband of his sweats. His breathing stutters and his whole body goes taut. You smile to yourself at his reaction, drawing out the tension as you tuck your fingers just barely inside, gently tugging at the soft fabric, wide-eyes meeting his in a look that says... can I?
"Please," is all he can manage, the feverish look in his eyes making you burn.
"Is this what you want huh?" You whisper quietly, looking right back, boldly maintaining his dark-eyed gaze as you let your fingers dip below the waistband to lightly graze the elastic of his boxers with a lone fingertip. His cock's straining against the thin material and his thighs are trembling.
"Fuck yes," he replies quickly, all breathy and broken, half ruined before you've even touched him. "Please don't make me beg love. I'll go and wake up the whole house if ya do!"
You have to press your lips together to smother the giggle that tries to break free, not wanting to detract from the heat of the moment. You've never seen him like this before, so thoroughly undone and achingly desperate. You're burning with anticipation for the moment you get to witness him unraveling before your eyes and you don't want anything to dampen it, you want to heighten and savour every second, draw it out until he's a whimpering moaning mess.
You slide your hand further down, cupping him through his boxers and he lets out a sudden sharp gasp, hips shunting forward to meet your touch.
"Christ..." he mutters, his whole body wracked with shudder after shudder as you start to palm him teasingly through the fabric. The blissful friction draws a strangled groan from his throat and you have to stop to remind him...
"Van... you gotta be quiet."
"Am trying love," he breathes, pressing his forehead into the crook of your neck, panting already. "It's just... uhhh... it's been a while... and it feels too fucking good... I can't help it."
Your hands are on the move again, fingers deftly hooking under the waistband of his boxers to drag them down over his slim hips. His cock springs free and you sigh as you wrap your fingers around his shaft, feeling the solid thickness of him. He's heavy in your palm and your mind races as you imagine how he'd feel pushing inside you, his hips clashing against yours roughly as he fills you up so good. Your pussy clenches, full of need, your hips tilting to find friction against his thigh. Maybe he's not the only one in danger of losing control.
You feel his teeth on your shoulder, grazing at first but then digging in hard enough to leave marks, a feeble attempt to stifle his sounds as you start to stroke his cock. It feels like he's close already, body as taut as a coiled spring, half formed moans and choked whimpers panted hotly against your skin.
His hands are no longer careful as his restraint crumbles completely, sliding up your t-shirt to knead at your tits through the lace of your bra one moment, fumbling clumsily with the catch at the back the next. He gives in with a rush of muttered expletives, pulling the cups down instead to let the soft flesh spill over, thumbing your nipples into stiff peaks until you're gasping softly and grinding against his leg.
"Now who's the one making a noise?" He teases, and you can hear the smirk in his voice, his breath fevered against your neck.
"Didn't realise it was a competition," you huff out a laugh, gripping him a little tighter and increasing your efforts, tugging him faster and firmer in tune with his ragged breaths. You pause every other stroke to slide your thumb over the sensitive head of his dick just to feel his whole body shudder.
"There is no competition babe, you're fucking killing me," he gasps, hips rocking mindlessly in tune with the pumping of your hand, chasing the friction like a man possessed, like he needs it to breathe. "I gotta have you... I need to feel you... please... I can't hold on any longer."
The heat between your thighs is scorching watching him like this, feeling him hot and sticky and pulsing in your hand. You're on the verge of unravelling yourself so his words hit you like a sudden rush, breaking through every inhibition. "I want you too... god I want you so bad."
In an instant he's tugging at your shirt, pulling it up and over your head to toss it down carelessly on to the floor. You go to rise up but he pushes you back down against the cushions, lips trailing over every bit of bare skin he uncovers like he means to claim you. You have to bite down on your lip to keep quiet as his tongue laves over your nipples, sucking each one into his mouth and flicking his tongue around the hardened bud until you're arching your body up to him, impatient for more.
"You're perfect," he breathes, shaky hands fumbling with the fly of your shorts. "So fucking perfect... don't know how I got so lucky."
"I feel the same," you say, dizzy with need and affection, lifting your hips to assist him as he drags your shorts down over your hips. Any concerns about getting caught have vanished, but you still recognise the need to be quiet, both of you working together in frantic silence to shed clothing until you're lying there breathless, half-naked bodies pressed flush together. Van hovers above you, propped up between your spread thighs, gazing down on you like you're the most desirable thing he's ever laid eyes on.
"Are you really sure you wanna do this... here and now... with me?"
You tilt your face up to his, heart hammering in your chest, your crushing need for him in that moment making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. You know enough though. This isn't just a casual hook-up or a fleeting physical release, it's a new chapter of both of your lives, the start of something more. You're standing on the edge of a precipice and there's nowhere else you'd rather be. You want to fall and you want to take him with you.
"Yes... I want you... I want all of you... right now."
You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him tight against you, the hard heat of him pressing right where you need it the most. He groans low in his throat, the head of his cock sliding against your slickness and you reach around to guide him, your head lolling back as he pushes himself inside you inch by delicious inch.
"Oh love... you feel so..." he trails off, lost for words as his eyes flutter shut, his jaw clenching up tight as he tries to stop from groaning out loud. He buries his face in your neck instead, pressing himself into you in one smooth thrust, muttering curses against your skin like a filthy prayer. "You feel unreal... so good... so fucking good..."
The feeling of fullness is overwhelming, every nerve ending sparking as he drags his hips back to buck into you again. You clench around him, fingernails digging into his shoulder, legs tightening around his hips to pull him deeper still. As if he could ever be close enough.
"Oh my god," you gasp, trying to suppress a moan as you feel his hand snake down between your bodies to locate your sweet spot, not being able to contain it when his finger sweeps across it just right, the blissful sensation making you quake.
"Right there?" He asks, honing in on your sensitivity, the blissful friction on your clit sending you spiralling.
"Yes, uhhh yes, don't stop," you whimper in reply, reaching up again to weave your hand through his hair, gripping it just short of the roots. You're delighted and awed at your new-found discovery and you're eager to exploit it as often as you can. You give a handful of his hair a deliberate pull and his reaction is instantaneous, a throaty moan escaping his lips before he can even think about trying to stifle it. You catch it with your mouth, swallowing it down with a heated kiss as his hips buck even harder into yours.
"Fuck... if ya keep doing that I'm not gonna last," he chokes out but you don't heed his warning and you don't reply, you simply let your hands do the talking, delivering another firm tug that drags his head back. "Jesus Y/N," he pants roughly, voice wrecked as the pleasurable pressure consumes him. He looks ruined, pupils dark and blown, kiss-slicked lips pulled in between his teeth as he tries with all his might to hold on.
"I can't... I can't love... shit..."
His words are broken, every syllable cracked open with raw pleasure and exertion, his orgasm threatening to break the surface so much quicker than he was intending, reckless and unstoppable.
You don't care though, your own peak building hard and fast. Every buck of his hips has you trembling, hips snapping together in a rhythm dictated by the desperate need thrumming through you both. The sofa rocks and creaks beneath you, your muffled whimpers mingling with his low groans and you know you're being far too loud but you can't stop now, you're both so close, the air between you hot and heavy, stifling.
You feel him stiffen, thrusting into you one final time, a drawn out guttural growl escaping before he buries his face in the crook of your neck to smother it. The sensation of him spilling into you combined with the sight and sound of him losing every ounce of his control sends you hurtling over the edge moments later, a soft, shuddering moan tumbling from your lips as you pull him as close as you can.
You cling together in the aftermath, your breathing heavy and ragged, bodies still fused in the most intimate way, neither one of you wanting to let go.
"God, that was... amazing... wow," he murmurs, his voice awed and a little shaky, like he's just awoken from a dream that's far too good to be real.
You laugh softly, feeling just as wonderstruck.
"Really amazing... but damn... that escalated quickly!" Your hands are still buried in his hair but your touch is gentle now, soothing with a gentle caress. "Not that I'm complaining!" You add quickly as his head quickly raises up, a cloud of caution flickering across his features.
"Are you sure love? We're not moving too fast? I hope you don't feel like I'm pressuring you into doing stuff too quick?"
You can't help the wide smile that spreads at his words, the fact that his concerns are completely misplaced. After all, you were the primary instigator once you'd discovered exactly which buttons to push. You're still buzzing from your discovery, wondering what other hidden turn-ons you might uncover as your relationship progresses, eager to explore.
"You don't need to worry," you reassure him, tilting your face to his to press a sweet kiss to his lips. "I wanted it... I wanted you..." you pause, trying to find the right words, your mind still hazy, thoughts full of him. "Seeing you like that though... it was... uhhh... intense."
You giggle quietly and he laughs too, a slight shake of his head like he's still trying to process the last fifteen minutes.
"That's one way to put it! Shit, that was fucking wild. I never even realised the effect having my hair pulled like that would have. It's insane."
He's softening inside you now, his release warm and sticky, coating your thighs as he shunts his hips backwards to pull out. There's a few moments of awkward fumbling where you both scramble to rearrange clothing, then you're settling back down on the sofa still pressed tightly together, a calm kind of intimacy falling over you both.
"So... you definitely liked it?" You ask, sliding your hand into his, fingers entwining as you pull his hand into your lap.
"I think I liked it a little too much," he says with a grin, eyes glinting. "I'm pretty sure that much was obvious!"
You both laugh, and you nuzzle into his side. "Oh, I noticed," you tease, nudging him lightly. "And I think I might have enjoyed it a little too much as well."
His eyebrows raise up, "oh yeah?"
"Oh yeah... those little growls you made when I tugged it just right? Yeah, I'm not gonna forget that sound in a hurry."
That makes him smirk, satisfaction shining through as he's reminded of the effect he has on you, the precious knowledge stoking warmth and longing in his chest.
"It's good to know I made an impression," he smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. "And thankfully... I don't think we woke the kids up," he adds, his tone full of relief.
Both of you freeze for a moment, faces upturned towards the ceiling as he mutes the background murmur coming from the tv. You both listen carefully for the sounds of small footsteps but thankfully the house is pin-drop quiet.
"Phew," you breathe, laughing softly. "That's a bonus."
"I'd say it's more like a bloody miracle with how loud we were!"
You can't resist a teasing jab, enjoying the playful connection you two share. "Errr... don't you mean how loud you were? I've always thought your singing was pretty Van, but I gotta say... your moans are even better."
He chuckles, pulling you closer until you're snug against him. "Glad to be of service love."
You both stay like that, bodies pressed tightly together, a comforting warmth settling over you full of unspoken promises of more to come.
“Love you baby," he whispered softly, the sound barely more than a breath in the quiet of your bedroom
Words: 3.8k // Van McCann // somnophilia (it’s all consensual!) from this request x
Kinktober Masterlist Main Masterlist
Van had never been the best at sleeping soundly, his brain ceaselessly ticking over with a million thoughts instead of winding down, his body wired and thrumming with energy whilst it should have been resting. He'd once told you that he'd only started sleeping better since you'd started staying over, that the feel of your warm body pressed up against his at night gave him that grounding comfort that allowed him to drift off peacefully and get a much needed full night's sleep.
And he hadn't been lying. It was the truth. This was during the winter though, when your favoured night-time attire consisted of those soft, fleecy pyjamas you loved to lounge around in, the sleeves too long and the legs of the bottoms pooling at your feet. And those damn fluffy socks. He used to tease you that you were nesh, that you looked like a life-sized teddy bear bundled up all warm and cosy and cute on chilly nights. But now the days were steadily lengthening as winter gave way to spring, the chill fading from the air and the temperatures rising.
And as it got warmer, you started sleeping in less and less.
First came the shorts. Cool and practical for you for warmer nights but frustratingly distracting for him, your bare legs brushing up soft and tempting against his whilst you tossed and turned to get comfortable in bed. Then it was the tiny cami tops with the delicate lacy straps that always slipped down your shoulders as you slept, exposing more bare skin.
The restless nights came back.
There were nights he lay awake listening to the soft sound of your breathing, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the velvet smoothness of your skin glowing in the silvery moonlight that spilled in through the curtains. Those were the good nights, the ones he could steer his thoughts down a more wholesome path, admiring your beauty before drifting off into a fitful slumber, but other nights... just like tonight... were pure torture.
He'd come back from a show late, buzzing with energy but sneaking in quietly nevertheless, trying his hardest not to disturb you. You always told him that you didn't mind, that you actually wanted him to wake you, eager to welcome him home and feel the real solid warmth of him in your arms after missing him so much. He felt guilty though, especially seeing you like this, sleeping so soundly, your hair spread out on the pillow, the covers strewn aside, your limbs spread out all graceful and serene. You were a vision.
He stood there for a long moment, admiring your sleeping form. You looked so beautiful and it took his breath away, your expression peaceful and your exposed skin so silky and soft, just begging to be kissed and caressed. Yearning sparked in his chest at the thought, drawing a quiet sigh of longing from his lips.
Even when he was away on tour, his mind lingered at home. Quiet nights in hotels or on the tour bus he'd bring up a picture of you on his phone, recalling the shape and feel of your body beneath his, the glaze of lust in your eyes, the little gasps you made when he slipped a finger between your slick folds. He'd always thought his vivid imagination was a blessing, but it sometimes felt like a curse when you were miles apart.
But you weren't miles apart now. You were right there.
He shifted his weight as he felt a stirring down low in his body, toeing off his boots and unbuttoning his shirt, eyes fixed on you the whole time, waiting for a tell-tale movement or a murmur that might signal you awakening. Maybe he should reach out and touch you, run his fingers lightly down the length of your arm, rouse you gently with a few strategically placed kisses.
God, he'd missed you. Your smile, your laugh, the sound of his name on your lips, the way you fit so perfectly in his arms... the sweet sounds you made when he sank into you, the way you clung to him, murmuring soft "I love yous" into the skin of his neck.
His yearning only grew stronger as he tugged off his jeans and socks, hovering at the very edge of the bed, caught in indecision. You let out a breathy murmur and his breath caught, hopeful that you might be stirring. He lingered there, wrestling with the urge to reach out.
But no... oh no... it wasn't gonna happen. He wasn't about to wake you just for his own selfish desires, much as he craved to slip into bed and rouse you, roll you over and fuck into you slow and sweet and deep.
You lay on one side with your body curved inwards, the sleeping position you always adopted when you were curled up in his arms as the little spoon. The empty space beside you belonged to him and it looked achingly bare right now.
He was careful as he grasped hold of the corner of the duvet, gently moving it aside so he could slide in beside you. The bed dipped down under his weight and you murmured quietly again, but you didn't roll over and you didn't wake. He lay very still for a moment until your breathing settled, then he carefully scooted himself across the bed until he felt his body butt up gently against yours.
Even though you were fast asleep it was like you instinctively knew he was there. You shifted to settle closer, your body nestling into his, the curve of your spine moulding perfectly against the length of his body like you were made to fit there.
"Love you baby," he whispered softly, the sound barely more than a breath in the quiet of your bedroom.
Being so close to you after weeks apart made it hit home even harder how much he'd missed you. He let out a quiet sigh of contentment, trying his hardest to focus on simply enjoying the warmth that seeped through the flimsy fabric of what little you were wearing. The way you nestled so snuggly into him like you belonged there. But as the minutes ticked by his thoughts started to stray farther and farther from the simple comfort of just being close to you, drifting towards much less innocent paths.
And he tried, he really did, but as he lay there listening to the gentle rhythm of your breathing, he became acutely aware of the soft sensual sighs that slipped from your lips every other breath. The way the curve of your ass brushed up against his crotch as your hips shifted subtly. He raised his head slightly and saw one of your hands clutching at the bed-sheets, twisting them into a fist.
He tried to reason that it was nothing, that you were just dreaming... but then his mind really started to wander.
What... or rather who might you be dreaming about?
Fragments of a conversation you'd had a few weeks prior flitted through his brain. You'd asked him what he wanted for his upcoming birthday and his cheeky reply was to be woken up with a blow job. How you'd laughed and blushed, the conversation taking a naughty turn. He pictured the scene now, how you'd lowered your lashes and fixed him with a coy smile as you'd hesitantly admitted a secret fantasy of yours... that you'd had an extremely dirty dream about him the night before and it was so vivid and so real that you thought you might actually open your eyes to find him nestled there between your thighs... and how disappointed you were when you came to and he wasn't. How the notion that he might desire you so badly that he couldn't wait to put his hands on you even when you were sleeping turned you on so much. That he could take you whenever he wanted... that you were all his... any time, any place.
Now he'd recalled the conversation he couldn't get it out of his head, your sleepy sighs increasing in volume as you stirred against him, pushing back to lightly grind against his pelvis.
"What you dreaming about darlin'? You dreaming about me?"
He leant in to press a featherlight kiss to the top of your shoulder, pausing a second as you let out the softest breathy moan as if in reply.
The sound made his stomach tighten and his cock stir in his boxers, his own hips instinctively pressing forward against the swell of your ass. You pushed back, pressing into him a little firmer.
"Fuck," he muttered, the friction riling him up even more, his pulse starting to thunder under his skin at the thought of acting out the fantasy that you'd discussed.
Would you remain soft and pliant if he rolled you on to your back right now? Would you squirm and sigh as he dragged those tiny shorts down over your hips? Would you spread your legs for him? Would you be wet?
"Mmm..." you sighed, followed by a breathy little gasp that travelled straight down to his stiffening dick. There was no mistaking it now, your hips shifting in shallow but purposeful waves to rub against him, your breathing deepening as whatever filthy dream you were having began to manifest itself physically.
He couldn't hold back any longer.
With the utmost care he reached up to let the very tips of his fingers trail gently over the skin of your shoulder, tracing soft patterns that travelled slowly downwards, over your shoulder blades, the curve of your spine, your waist. He let his hand rest there for a moment, fingers toying with the narrow waistband of your shorts, soaking up the warmth and softness of the skin underneath.
"So pretty... and all for me," he murmured, shifting so he could slide a hand on to your hips and pull you gently and carefully on to your back.
You offered no resistance, settling against the soft mattress, spread out so prettily for him. In this position he could see your face in the dim light, the faint crease between your brows as though you were concentrating on something in your dream, your lips parting slightly as another soft sigh slipped free.
He hovered over you for a moment to admire you before dipping down to press a whisper of a kiss to your cheek, then he softly trailed his lips down your jaw, nose nudging gently at that sensitive spot just below your ear. You shifted on the bed, head pressing back into the pillow, the rise and fall of your chest more pronounced as the physical sensations started to trickle into your dream world.
"Don't worry love, 'm gonna take care of you. Gonna do all those dirty things that you've been dreaming about."
He whispered the filthy promise directly into your ear, lips lightly brushing the shell, making you shiver. If you were this sensitive just from his barely-there touches how would you react when he really got to work between your thighs?
The anticipation was killing him but he didn't want to rush, he wanted to draw this out and take his time. Build up your pleasure nice and slow until you were teetering right there on the edge, dangle you there so that when you came round you'd fall apart for him in an all-encompassing rush that left you ragged and gasping and breathless.
He was painstakingly careful as he moved slowly down your body, a tender kiss here, a delicate brush of his lips there, no part you left unappreciated. He lingered where the lace trim of your top stretched over your chest, teasing the sensitive buds of your nipples through the thin fabric until they pebbled into hard little peaks and you were squirming restlessly on the bed.
Still you didn't wake.
Further down over your ribs, the soft flesh of your tummy where your top had ridden up, the dip of your hips just peeking out from the waistband of your shorts. Every inch of you was beautiful and he didn't want to miss any of it.
Your legs were already spread, nudged gently apart, and he knelt in between them, hands trembling slightly as he hooked his fingertips under the waistband of your shorts. As he started to ease them down over your hips you wriggled lightly against the mattress, hips adjusting as if to help him. He smirked at the faint sleepy smile that tugged at the corners of your lips.
"Such a good girl for me," he said quietly, voice low and rough with an unmistakable edge of desire.
You were wearing a pair of plain cotton panties decorated with a small bow, a stark contrast to the intricate lacy lingerie you wore when you were dressed to seduce. For some reason the plain simplicity of the underwear turned him on all the more. There was something so sweet and unassuming about you as you lay there so peaceful and serene, the image at complete odds with the filthy thoughts that rampaged through his brain.
He sank down on to the bed on his front, carefully easing your legs wider apart, propping himself up on his elbows. You shivered as he ran the tips of his fingers gently up and down the soft skin of your inner thighs, your hips twitching with longing.
"Gonna make you feel so good," he whispered, breathing in the heady warmth and scent of you as he pressed his mouth to the thin cotton of your panties, mouthing tender kisses to your clit.
A small whimper drifted down from above and he smirked against your heat. You were such a needy girl, even in sleep, and he loved that fact. He loved how responsive you were, how your body reacted to him with just the barest of touches.
He briefly wondered whether he could make you come just like this, but the thought faded as fast as it appeared. He needed more, he needed to taste you. He needed to feel your slickness on his tongue and hear your soft moans and sighs as you squirmed and clamped your thighs tight around his head.
Any notions of taking his time with you fast disintegrated as he carefully slipped his fingers under the elastic of your panties and peeled the already damp fabric down your legs.
Fuck... you were perfect, the sight that greeted him making him groan under his breath. You were already soaked, your arousal glistening in the dim light, making his cock swell and his mouth water. The urge to taste you was overwhelming and he couldn't hold back another second, leaning in to drag his tongue through your slick folds. Soft and wet as he parted you.
Above him, the shift in your breathing was immediate, a sharp inhale followed by a long, shuddering exhale. Your body arched, spine bowing off the bed as you pressed yourself against his eager mouth, unconsciously seeking more of the sensation.
"So good for me love," he murmured against your skin, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your sensitive clit. He reached up, hands curving around the back of your thighs to ease them even further part, opening you up.
He was fully hard now, the thick, throbbing length of him straining at his boxers. The friction was bordering on unbearable, a torturous reminder of exactly how much he needed you, and he ground his hips into mattress, desperate to relieve the ache. It wasn't nearly enough but the temporary relief allowed him to focus his attention back on you, just as you deserved.
As his tongue flicked over your clit in messy circles he reached up to run a finger down the length of your slit, relishing how wet you were just from your dream. He caressed you briefly, circling your entrance, pressure teasing and light until your hips bucked, chasing his touch.
"Oh, you want more do ya?" he breathed as he pressed first one finger then two slowly inside, sinking them down to the knuckle, working you open slow and careful as you whimpered softly from the stretch.
God, he loved the way you clenched around him, hot and wet and tight, your velvety walls sucking him in.
"Mmm... Van," you murmured groggily, your head lolling from side to side on the pillow, not quite awake but stirring. Suspended in the hazy realm between sleep and wakefulness, your body impatient for more.
The sound of his name spilling from your lips so sensual and breathy spurred him on and he flattened his tongue against your clit, laving in firm, wet strokes, fingers crooking to stroke that soft spot inside. There was no teasing now, no pace, just his insatiable hunger and the desperate need to get you off, to feel you pulsing hot and slick on his tongue.
"Fuck... that's it... come for me love... I wanna feel it."
He groaned into your wetness and the vibrations travelled straight through your core. You couldn't help but wantonly cant your hips upwards, seeking more contact, more friction, more of him. He pressed deeper, tongue flicking harder, no longer mindful of staying quiet, the knowledge that you were on the cusp of waking spurring him on.
And all of a sudden it was too much, the overwhelming, visceral sensations finally dragging you from sleep, your whole body spasming as a shudder coursed through you.
Your eyes fluttered open in a dazed blur, confusion disorienting you for the briefest moment as you tried to make sense of where you were and what was happening and whether the blissful feeling between your legs that was so intoxicatingly familiar was real or part of your dream.
Then you saw him. Hair mussed, lips glossy and ripe, eyes blown with lust as he peered up at you from his spot between your spread thighs.
You didn't even pause to catch a breath, too caught up in ecstasy, drowning in it, surrendering yourself up.
"More... please," you gasped, voice rough with sleep, cracking on a plea. "Just like that, ohhhh... don't stop, I'm gonna..."
You trailed off as his lips returned, one hand firm on your hip to pin you down, the other spreading you wide. He didn't hold back, pressing you firm against the mattress, working you over until you were right on the trembling edge.
"You gonna come all over my mouth, yeah?" he said, almost a growl before he dived back in, tongue laving at your slick folds.
And you couldn't help but give him exactly what he wanted.
You came hard, cunt clenching around his fingers, white hot pleasure shooting through every nerve. Your hands shot to his hair, digging deep, twisting the strands until they pulled tight on his scalp. He hissed in response, only lapping at you harder, determined to wring every drop of your pleasure.
"Fuck... oh my god... it's too much... shit..."
Your body went taut then instantly slack and you sank into the mattress, little tears pin-pricking your vision. A ragged moan burst from you, almost bordering on a wail.
For a moment you were floating, untethered and boneless, pulse thundering in your ears, heart racing, breathing coming in ragged little bursts. The sheets felt damp and twisted beneath you and you stared up at the ceiling, wide-eyed, trying to process what just happened, trying to separate the dream from reality.
A warm chuckle drifted up and you felt the gentle brush of lips, ticklish on your inner thighs, warm hands smoothing down over your hips. The sensations grounded you, leaving no room for doubt that you were now awake, and that Van was there, that he'd snuck in and roused you in the most delicious way just like you'd been fantasising about.
"Missed you love," he murmured, voice quiet, a note of uncertainty creeping in as you felt him shift on the bed. "Was that... okay... I mean... did you..."
He trailed off as he pressed a few sweet kisses to your heated skin, no longer seeking but soothing, the brush of day-old stubble scratching softly.
Your lips twitched into a smile, small at first but steadily growing until you were grinning up at the ceiling, warmth glowing between your thighs but also blooming bright in your chest.
"C'mere... come up... I wanna see you..."
You reached for him, fingers sliding over warm skin, lightly digging into his shoulders as you urged him upwards. He rose up eagerly, pushing himself up until he was hovering over you, his weight settling warm and heavy against you, arms bracketing you in on either side of your head.
You were still reeling, floating in your post-orgasm haze whilst you caught your breath, marvelling that your dream... quite literally... came true.
Fragments of it came to you, drifting like gossamer threads through your mind, already fading in that way that dreams do, but you remembered enough. Enough to make heat rise to your cheeks and your thighs clench, your smile a little coy as you looked up at him.
"I loved it," you said softly, fingers dancing up and down his back, drawing fond little shapes. "And I love you... god I missed you so much." Your voice wavered slightly with the relief and emotion of it. "I'm really glad you're back."
He beamed at you, that full, slightly crooked smile of his that you loved so much, and you just looked at each other for a moment before he dipped his head to scatter soft kisses over your lips, your cheeks, the very tip of your nose. You giggled, hands drifting down to his waist, his hips, lightly squeezing handfuls of his ass.
That made him smirk but even so, there was still hesitance when he spoke, a note of caution creeping in.
"And being woken up like that? You sure it was okay? 'Cause you looked so peaceful lying there when I first got back..."
The look you gave him left no room for doubt.
"Okay?" You laughed, thrill still lingering as you recalled the moment of realisation, how the sensations were even more intense pulled straight from your dream. "It was more than okay. In fact... you can go away more often if that's what I'm gonna get every time you come back!"
His smirk widened, a playful light glowing in his eyes.
"And the dream... you wanna tell me all about it? In detail... I’m very curious…”
Your cheeks warmed even more and you squirmed beneath him, suddenly all too aware of the weight of his body pressing down on you, the thick rigid length of him pressing insistently against your inner thigh.
You swallowed hard, eyes flicking away briefly only to return to his a moment later, a small breathy laugh escaping.
"Well... I don't really remember that much now... you know what it's like with dreams..." you paused, a hand moving to tangle in the soft hair at the nape of his neck."I think you're gonna have to help me remember..."
Sorry it took me a while anon, hope you like it xxx
Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist
He didn't think he could ever feel lonely in New York, the city that never sleeps. Yet he felt it tonight sitting on his hotel room bed with only his acoustic guitar for company.
It had been another whirlwind day of interviews and appearances, topped off with an energetic adrenaline-fused gig at Webster Hall. The band were riding high, selling out shows, turning industry heads, amassing a huge following... the sky was the limit. Sweat and smoke still clung to his clothes and his hair, screams and cheers echoed in his ears and tiredness tugged at his eyelids... but he knew that he wouldn't sleep. He never could easily at the best of times and especially not in unfamiliar hotel rooms. He never could settle. Not without her.
He wondered what she was doing now, whether she was thinking about him too. New York was five hours behind so she'd likely still be awake.
He closed his eyes and tipped his head back to rest on the wall behind him, concentrating on summoning up memories of her. Her laugh, her voice, her scent, the comforting feel of her arms wrapped around his waist as they lay in bed, her slight frame pressed up flush against his in the wee small hours of the night. Her feet were always cold and he always grumbled when she rolled over and took the duvet with her. He smiled to himself as he imagined hovering over her, picturing her sulky pout and bed-tousled hair spread out on the pillow as she looked up at him, all sleepy-eyed and soft and pretty. The memories were vivid and they should have been soothing but they only served to make the hollow ache in his chest even more pronounced than ever.
You know when you're gone I struggle at night...
He sighed, reaching for his phone and scrolling for her contact, placing the call. She picked up straight away, her greeting quiet but keen sounding, just like she'd been waiting for him to call.
"Hey, it's good to hear from you."
"It's good to hear your voice."
"It's late," her tone was laced with concern. "Really late... don't you ever sleep? You'll be dead beat tomorrow."
"I can't," he admitted, putting the phone on speaker so he could more easily cradle his guitar. "You know how I struggle when you're not with me. Can't seem to switch off. Can't settle. If you were here with me I'd sleep better."
A quiet giggle down the line. "If I were there with you we wouldn't be sleeping at all and you know it."
"Don't put those ideas in my head babe, that's just cruel when you're thousands of miles away."
He laughed softly, tiredness scratching at his throat, his fingers absentmindedly strumming a chord. Despite the exhaustion weighing down his limbs there was a restlessness thrumming beneath his skin, an itch begging to be scratched. It often stirred in quiet moments like this, a desire to write, to create, to turn the tangle of emotions in his head into something real. A melody and lyrics that would convey the weight of his feelings better than simple words ever could.
"You call that cruel?" She huffed, interrupting his thoughts. "How about you not contacting me for three whole days when you first left for the States? Now that was cruel."
"My phone was fucked, just like I said!" He protested, guilt gnawing at the pit of his belly. "I wouldn't ignore you on purpose love, you know I'd never do that."
"More like you'd just not sorted out roaming on your phone. You're bloody useless with technology, always have been."
There was no hint of accusation in her tone despite her words, more teasing amusement. And she was right, he was old school through and through, his head too caught up in fanciful dreams of playing stadiums and travelling the world to pay much mind to the ordinary mundane things like the settings on his phone.
He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, guilty as charged. You know I'm hopeless with all that. I can barely remember to charge the damn phone let alone sort out international roaming. That's like some serious rocket-science level technical shit. It's well beyond me."
She giggled, warm and comforting, causing any guilt he'd felt at not calling to dissipate in an instant.
"You're lucky you're pretty to look at," she said with a playful lilt. "And an insanely talented song-writer."
"And I'm lucky that you think I am," he replied, his grin stretching wide. "Seriously though, it was horrible not being able to talk to you, felt like part of me was missing. I'd walk off stage buzzing after a show and all I'd wanna do was talk to you. Tell you about how amazing it was. Have you lecturing me about taking a shower 'cause I'd been sweating so bad."
"You do sweat a silly amount on stage, I swear you must leave puddles all over the place," she teased.
"Next you'll be saying I'm not even house-trained yet!"
He plucked a few random notes, closing his eyes as he felt that stirring again, an unfamiliar melody winding its way through his thoughts like smoke on a breeze.
"All jokes aside it is hard," she said, voice growing more solemn. "I'd never begrudge you touring of course, I know how much it means to you and I know how much you love it and need it, but I miss you so goddamn much. Sometimes it's so bad it's like a physical ache. Feel like one of those 1940s wives with a husband who's gone off to fight a war, sitting here all lonely waiting for a letter... or a call in our case."
Her words conjured up an image that fired a spark in his brain and he jolted, quickly hunching forward over the guitar, his fingers curling tight around the frets.
"I'm craving your calls like a soldier's wife... I wanna bring you home myself... I wanna bring you home myself...."
The words spilled from him unbidden, his fingers picking out a gentle melody as he sang, his eyes shut tight, a warmth blooming his chest at the thought of their reunion once the tour was over.
She let out an exhale, curious wonder in her voice as she spoke. "That sounded beautiful... are you... writing... right now?"
"I'm not sure," he murmured, shifting the guitar in his lap, rolling out a crick in his neck. "I feel like there's something there, a verse, a chorus, maybe even a whole song. It's been in the back of my head since we got here but I can't seem to pin it down. It's been haunting me."
"That's not like you at all. Usually lyrics just tumble out of you. I swear it takes you longer to finish a cigarette than write a tune."
"This one's different," he said, voice low and thoughtful. "Feels like I'm having to chase it. It's not some meaningless rambling about getting drunk or having a smoke or falling out with the manager this time. It means something, it feels more intimate..." he paused, trying to transform his racing thoughts into words. "It's about us, about how much I miss you when you're not around. How it feels to be so far away from the only thing in this life that keeps me grounded... and it's definitely going on the album."
There was a beat of silence and he imagined her sitting up straight, pressing the phone tight to her ear like that would make the physical distance between them somehow closer.
"You're writing a song for the album... about me?"
"Babe, I've got a whole notebook of 'em right here, it's not gonna be the only one, I can tell you that for sure. Gonna dedicate the whole thing to you, and this is only the start."
"Shit," she breathed out, her voice cracking. "You really mean it?"
"Every word love... it's all for you. These songs, the band, the touring, the sleepless nights... it's all for you... well for us. It's for our future together."
She was quiet for a moment, like she was absorbing the weight of his words, then she let out a breathy laugh, a little giddy, overwhelmed.
"You've got our future all worked out then, huh? You must have been giving it a lot of thought."
Emotion was thick in her voice, that unmistakeable wobble that always gave her away when she was trying hard not to cry. It made his own throat feel tight.
"You know me, always looking ahead, always dreaming big. Been thinking about you and me, big house on the coast, one of those big fancy kitchens you love, a couple of dogs, maybe a few baby McCanns running around..."
"Woah... slow down!" She cut him off, her laughter bright and infectious, filling the distance between them. "We've only been together for six months and you already have me carrying your children. What's next? A diamond ring?"
He laughed too, embarrassed that he'd let his thoughts run away with him. He couldn't help it though, she'd always had that effect on him. Hell, he'd practically been writing his wedding vows the night their eyes had first met across a crowded bar. She was addicting in the best possible way.
"I'm just putting it out into the universe, that's all," he said, lightly with a hint of sincerity he hoped she'd not miss. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna be waiting there on one knee when you meet me at Heathrow next week or anything like that, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't see this as a long-term thing. I can't help it, it's just where my thoughts end up going when I think of us. It just feels... natural... like it's meant to be. Whenever I think about my future you're in it... always."
There was silence again but it wasn't awkward, it was charged. It felt full of the possibility of something that made him feel simultaneously exhilarated but terrified in equal measures, like he was putting his heart on the line, casting it out on a hook to see if he'd land his prize catch. He just hoped she felt the same.
Finally, she spoke, a quiet strength in her voice like she meant every word. "You're in mine too. I never said it before but since we're being so open with each other then what the hell. I've actually been thinking about it too... a lot. Wondering what the future holds, hoping we'll stand the test of time."
"We will," his answer was immediate and definite, his confidence bolstered by her admission. "When the band take off and our debut album goes platinum I want you there by my side through all of it."
She blew out a breath. "Platinum, eh?"
"You can count on it."
"We'd better make this song a good one then..."
He blinked, surprised, his fingers stilling on the frets. "We?"
"Yeah... we," she echoed. "Isn't that what we're doing? Writing it together?"
Her voice was tentative, nervous sounding like she wasn't sure how he'd react. He'd told her before that song-writing was something he only did solo, but this was different, just like he'd said. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do in that moment than write a song with the woman he loved... not that he'd told her that yet, despite the talk of children and wedding bells. A grin spread across his face, slow and genuine, his heart swelling as he plucked out a few soft notes.
"I guess we are writing it together... so, come on then, what would you add? What do you miss about me when I'm away? What drives you mad when we're apart?"
"You drive me mad full stop!" She shot back, sniggering. "And you didn't ask but I'll tell you what I don't miss... your untidy clutter all over my flat, and the way you bring home every cough and cold from the tour bus. I swear I get sick every single time you come back. You can keep your germs to yourself in future, thank you very much."
He chuckled, loud and hearty, loving the cheeky banter they shared. "There was me trying to be generous as well... and if we're gonna go down that route then we need a line about how you hog the bedsheets... and steal all my jumpers... and snore like an old man. That's definitely going in!"
"Me? Snore? That's slander!" She gasped, feigning offence, then her voice turned softer as their laughter finally died away. "You know what I do miss though? You camping out on my sofa with that old beat-up guitar of yours, wasting whole weekends talking about chord progressions and bridges like they're the most important things in the world."
He smiled as he let his fingers brush gently over the strings. "They are important love."
But she wasn't finished, her voice hushing to a secretive whisper just for him. "I miss showering with you too... and I miss your lips... miss you kissing me all over."
"There you go again with your one track mind! Let's keep this PG!”
She giggled again, full of mischief. "I'm sorry if I sound sordid. I can't help it, I just miss you too much."
He smirked to himself. ‘I'm sorry if I sound sordid’... that was a great line... he'd have to remember that one. God how he wished he could be there with her right now, doing all those things she missed.
"Don't apologise babe, please. Trust me, we're gonna be catching up on all this lost time as soon as I get back."
"Promise?"
"I promise... and I think I have this song all worked out now, thanks to you."
"Really? Just from this silly conversation?"
She sounded eager with a hint of disbelief, and he could almost see her in his mind's eye at that very moment. She'd be propped up on her bed amongst her fluffy pillows, phone cradled between her shoulder and ear, lips curled into that gorgeous smile she always wore when she got excited about something.
"Yeah, and it's not silly, not at all. It's what a true love song should be. It's not polished and it's not perfect. It should be messy, raw, real..."
"Scruffy?" she offered hopefully.
"Yes, that's exactly it. It should be scruffy. 'Scruffy love songs'. I love it..." His voice caught a little. "Just like I love you."
There was another pause, even longer this time, but he didn't feel nervous. Not now. He could feel her there on the other end of the line, missing him, yearning for him, incomplete without him just like he felt when they were apart.
"I love you too," she said, barely above a whisper.
For a moment, there was no distance between them, no time zones, no missed calls, no vast ocean or lonely hotel room beds.
He shifted his guitar more comfortably in his lap, his fingers finding the strings with ease now, no longer chasing the melody but letting it flow through him. He started to hum a line, then sang softly, the notes echoing around the room...
Just a little blurb from this request // 1.5k words 💗
CATB Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist
"What?" You murmur, voice groggy with sleep as you crack open your eyes to catch your boyfriend gazing lovingly at you, big dopey grin stretched wide on his lips.
It's a Sunday morning, and the realisation on waking that you don't have anything to do today or anyone to see sets off a bloom of lazy contentment humming in your chest. You stretch out your limbs, bare feet tangling with Van's in the rumpled sheets.
"I'm just looking at my gorgeous girlfriend," he mumbles back, reaching to pull the covers away from your face so he can see you more clearly. "Thinking how cute you look right now... no, not just cute.... beautiful actually."
"And how long you been lying there watching me for?" You giggle with a hint of mock suspicion, not acknowledging his compliment even though the dusting of pink that warms your cheeks gives away your delight. "You always do this... watch me when I'm sleeping... it's kinda creepy you know."
"Well I guess that makes me a creep then!" He grins, pushing himself up so he's resting on an elbow to look down on you.
He's shirtless, shaggy mousy brown hair tousled by sleep, an adoring little smile playing on his lips as he reaches over to gently brush his knuckles down your jaw. "Just can't help myself. Feel like I gotta pinch myself sometimes when I wake up and see you lying there next to me."
"Oh would you just stop!" You laugh, your cheeks warming even more as you make a grab for the corner of the duvet to raise it up over your face once more.
Van has other ideas though, not letting you shy away from his praise, grasping the material and pulling it firmly away.
"Nuh-uh... no hiding babe," he scolds you playfully. "Let me see that pretty face."
"But I've literally just woken up," you groan, secretly loving the adoration he heaps on even though you find it hard to believe he can appreciate your beauty first thing in the morning. You don't have a stitch of make up on and your face is surely pillow-creased, and even worse there's a slight sour tang lingering in your mouth that makes you wince and pull back as he leans in for a kiss.
"Ughhh noooo," you whine, a hand on his chest to deter him. "I've got the worst morning breath, honestly it's evil. There's no way I'm kissing you... not 'till I've brushed my teeth."
Van chuckles, eyes glowing with amusement at your resistance, in no way deterred. "It's okay love, I already brushed mine, we can just share toothpaste."
"Eewww no!" You giggle, horrified but simultaneously wondering how on earth you're going to resist when he looks at you like that, like you're the centre of his whole world. "I mean it, it's gross. Let me just get up and..."
Your words are cut off as you go to push yourself up and Van counters you, rolling over and crushing his body on top of yours, the warm, heavy weight of him pressing you into the mattress. He reaches for your hands, lacing his fingers through yours and pushing them up gently over your head. You let him, biting back your smile as you fake a sulky pout.
"Va-an," you whine a soft protest.
"Where d'ya think you're going hmmm? You're not trying to escape me are ya?"
He smirks at you playfully with a hint of mischief that makes your belly flip. You laugh, your breath catching a little at the feel of his body pressing into yours just so, warm, solid, completely irresistible. He's not playing fair and he knows it.
"Oh, so I'm your prisoner now am I? You're not gonna let me get up?"
"Uh-huh... just gonna keep you here in our bed... forever... so I can kiss you whenever I like."
The fluttery feeling in your gut intensifies. You giggle, wriggling slightly beneath him, fingers twitching in his hold but making no real effort to pull away. "Sounds like torture... however am I gonna cope?"
He doesn't reply, just grins down on you like there's nowhere else he'd rather be. Then, without warning, he dips his head and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before drawing back to gaze down on you again.
"Mmm... my beautiful girl..." he murmurs dreamily.
You let out a small amused huff, about to respond but before you can get a word out he kisses the very tip of your nose, making you laugh even more. Then it's your left cheek, followed by the other, then another soft kiss pressed to your chin. Small, sweet, gentle kisses peppered to every inch of your face... everywhere apart from your lips.
"Oh, so you are heeding my warning after all then?" You smile, basking in his adoring attention, thinking you probably could stay like this forever, just the two of you, shut away from the world.
"Nah, not at all," he mutters in between scattering ticklish kisses down your jawline. "I'm just saving the best 'till last, that's all. Taking my time with you…”
You're utterly helpless, trapped under his body and the intoxicating weight of his affection, giggling softly as he continues his gentle assault of kisses. He moves to just below your ear next, that little patch of sensitive skin that always makes you shiver. He lingers there momentarily, teeth lightly grazing your pulse point, his lips curving into a smile against your skin when your body reacts exactly like he's expecting it to.
"I haven’t even got to my favourite part yet..." he breathes against your skin.
You sigh in contentment, eyelids fluttered shut, ready to give into the blissful feeling he evokes in you as his lips brush over your neck, but suddenly he stops. Your eyes blink open in an instant to find him hovering just inches away, ocean eyes drinking all of you in, his gold pendant dangling in the small space between you.
"I love you babe," he whispers quietly, like the sweetest secret just for you. "All of you… every tiny little part of you..." he pauses, lips curling into a mischievous smirk "even your evil morning breath!"
"Fuck off!" You giggle breathily, bucking your body slightly beneath him, feigning an attempt to escape. "I told you I wanted to get up and brush my teeth but you won't let me!"
"Am only joking love," he chuckles back an assurance. "You always taste so sweet, even first thing in the morning. Promise."
Then his grin starts to fade as his eyes flick between yours and your lips, a heavy, hushed kind of intimacy falling over you both. Your lips part instinctively in anticipation, all protests quickly forgotten.
He leans in slow, pressing those perfectly soft lips against yours and you feel yourself melting into the pillow. You're surrounded by his scent and his warmth, your lips moulding together like they were meant to be. His kisses are always heavenly but there's just something about this morning that makes you feel like you're on another plane entirely.
He kisses you slowly, languidly and unhurried, like you have all the time in the world. There's no urgency, just the blissful feel of his plush lips moving against yours as you fall into that familiar rhythm that floods your body with heat and makes your heart stutter in your chest. It's all about sensation, the slight scratch of his stubble against your skin, the warm wetness of his tongue as it slides against yours, the needy little sighs that slip from both of you as the kiss deepens.
You reach up to bury your hands in his hair, winding it through your fingers and tugging gently at the roots the way you know he likes it. He groans low in his throat, an involuntary reaction, and you smile against his lips. You both know each other's bodies so well, every little trick to make each other melt, every secret button to push. He pushes his pelvis into yours and you grind up against him, craving more contact. Craving him.
It's intoxicating, how all-consuming he is and how perfectly natural that feeling is. The way you know the feeling is wholly reciprocated makes your heart sing.
When you naturally break away to catch your breath you remain close, your breathing uneven and your pulse racing, your chest heaving beneath his. His nose bumps gently against yours as he dips down to give you yet another kiss, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he raises his head.
"Still in a rush to get up and brush your teeth?" He grins, voice low and teasing.
You laugh, a little breathlessly. "Just shut up and get back down here will you?”
“Oh, you want more do ya?”
“Always.”
The rest of the morning stretches on around you whilst you remain wrapped up in one other, the sun high in the sky and your bedroom walls painted gold by the time you finally come up for air. And yet there’s still no need to rush. No need to get up and face the world. Not when you’ve got everything that you need right here.
Finally got around to writing this anon, sorry I completely went off track but how could I not include Van’s pretty eyelashes! Sorry if it’s crap, I wrote it super-quick this morning xxx
If there was one thing that annoyed you about Van, it was his inability to occupy himself quietly whilst waiting for you to get ready to go out. Patience was never his strong point, nor was entertaining himself, you often used to compare him to an impatient child the way he'd fuss and fidget, constantly querying, "are you nearly ready yet love?" or "c'mon babe... you're taking forever!"
On this particular occasion he was leaning against the door frame of your bedroom, sighing loudly and a touch dramatically, waiting for you to do your makeup. You'd already told him several times you'd be a while but even so he insisted on skulking around, like his mere presence lingering there might encourage you to get ready faster. It wouldn't. If anything it rubbed up against your stubborn streak, causing you to deliberately take your time with your routine.
You'd just dabbed on your foundation, using a sponge to make sure it was blended in when your eyes caught Van's in the vanity table mirror. He wasn't standing there scrolling through his phone or looking past you out the window, he was watching you. You raised your eyebrows at him in the reflection.
"You know, standing there staring at me isn't gonna make me go any quicker, I already told you about three times I'm gonna take a while getting ready. You should go and find something to do."
His lips pull into a faintly sulky pout. "But I have found something to do."
You twist around in your seat. "Oh really?"
He nods, gesturing towards you. "Yeah, I'm watching you do your face. It's quite interesting actually."
You can't help but smile at that, turning back to the mirror to carry on.
"Well, if you're gonna watch me, come and sit down on the bed or something. You're making me feel weird just standing there behind me. It's making me feel on edge."
He needs little encouragement, clambering up on to the bed and sitting cross-legged, leaning in to get a better look. His expression's full of curiosity when you glance at him in the mirror.
"What're you doing now love? What's that for?"
You hesitate, wondering for a fleeting second whether he's taking the piss asking questions but when you turn to look at him he seems genuinely interested, eyes fixed on the small sponge in your hand as you hold it up.
"It's a beauty blender," you explain. "I use it to apply my base."
"Base?" He frowns lightly and you laugh softly.
"Yeah, foundation... it's basically like a base layer for your makeup, it evens everything out so then you can put the rest on."
He nods, eyes darting to the surface of the table where you've got all your products and brushes laid out, scanning everything with keen interest.
"You've got loads of stuff. You really gonna slap all that lot on your face?"
"Yeah I am, but there's a technique to it," you laugh, picking up your concealer. "You make it sound like I'm just gonna haphazardly shovel it on with a trowel or something!" You pause, turning to look at him again, puckering up your lips in an exaggerated pout, batting your eyelashes comically. "You gotta trust the process. I always look gorgeous, don't I?"
He grins, an enthusiastic nod of his head. "Babe, you're naturally pretty... you don't need all that, honestly. You're just as beautiful without it... stunning in fact."
You break out into a grin. You might think he had an ulterior motive, complimenting you to hurry you along, but that's not his style at all. He's never been one to hold back when it comes to saying exactly what he thinks and compliments slip out of him easily, like they're simply observations he sees little point in keeping to himself.
"It's not all about needing it," you tell him, reaching for a brush. "It just gives me confidence, that's all."
He hums thoughtfully, then you see him leaning over to reach for your make up bag which he immediately pulls on to his lap and starts rooting through.
"So, what you got in ‘ere then?"
You chuckle to yourself, turning back to the mirror to focus on the task in hand when Van's voice sounds out, loud and high-pitched, wrenching your attention straight back to him.
"What the fuck's this?"
You turn to see him holding up your eyelash curlers, his face twisted into a look of confusion and horror. You immediately burst out laughing.
"They're eyelash curlers... oh my god you should see your face!"
"What... you actually put your eyelashes in this?" He grimaces, opening and closing them a few times, holding them at arm's length like they might come alive and bite him any second. "Looks like some kind of medieval torture device!"
"They're completely harmless," you giggle, reaching over to take them out of his hands, indicating the curved part of the curlers with your finger. "You just clamp this little bit over..."
"Clamp it?" Van cuts in, shaking his head, laughing too now. "No... no way... nuh-huh... looks like that thing they use to clamp that guy's eyes open in Clockwork Orange or summat."
"You're so dramatic," you laugh. "Honestly they're amazing, they make even the shortest, straightest lashes look longer and lifted."
He grins back at you, blinking slowly... his ridiculously long lashes dusting his cheeks... and an idea sparks. You hold up the curlers, adopting a thoughtful tone as you smile sweetly at him.
"Now take your lashes for example, most girls would kill for ones that long... and they've got an amazing natural curl... these'd probably work even better on you than they do on me..."
His eyes narrow immediately in suspicion.
"No... no way babe... I know that look. You can keep those things away from me."
"Oh come on," you plead, getting to your feet so you're looming over him, eyelash curlers in hand. "I just wanna see how they'd look."
You've always thought his lashes were pretty. Long and dark and naturally curved, perfect in the frustratingly annoying way that some guy's seemed to be. It was honestly unfair how some were blessed with the longest, most luscious lashes whilst girls had to resort to curlers and layers of mascara to get the same effect.
"What if it rips 'em out?" He frets, his cautious expression making you laugh again.
"It's not gonna rip them out! I'll be gentle I swear. Don't you trust me?"
He hesitates, eyes darting between yours and the curlers whilst you fix him with wide, pleading eyes... "please... pretty please... you won't feel a thing..."
You see him visibly soften but he's still uncertain sounding when he sighs "oh bloody hell go on then... I can tell I'm not gonna hear the end of it 'till I give in."
"Yes!" You whisper under your breath, giggling when he looks up at you with an amused, slightly bewildered expression at your obvious excitement.
"Well? I've always wanted to give you a makeover!" You grin, stepping closer, laughing as he leans back away from you.
"I didn't agree to that... just the lashes okay?"
"Okay, okay, just the lashes... for now..." you lean over him, one hand curling around his jaw to tilt his face up. "Now close your eyes a little... not all the way... just a little... that's it..."
He obediently follows your instructions and you smile to yourself as you look down on him. He looks so cute sitting there waiting, quiet for once as he finally relaxes into the idea. He's still shifting slightly where he sits though, always one to fidget.
"Hold still," you murmur, bringing the curlers close to his eye.
"I am still!"
"You're flinching!"
"You're literally sticking metal near my eyeballs, it's survival instinct to flinch!"
You shake your head, tutting playfully. "Drama queen."
He settles down then, allowing you to carefully clamp his eyelashes on one side. You wait for a few seconds then release it, smiling at the results.
"Looking good..."
"Yeah?"
"Mmm... very pretty."
He smirks at that, staying perfectly still this time until you've done the other eye. His lashes look even more striking than normal, framing his pretty blue eyes perfectly. You step back, passing him a small handheld mirror.
"There... that wasn't too painful was it?"
"Well... I'm still alive I guess," he chuckles.
He's quiet as he studies his reflection, tipping his head from side to side to, tilting the mirror to check all angles. Finally he blows out a quiet breath, quite obviously impressed.
"Wow... they do look long, don't they?"
"Like a baby giraffe," you giggle. He grins up at you.
You're having the time of your life. You've always wanted to give your boyfriend a makeover but he's always fobbed you off when you've hinted at it before. Now he's sitting here so agreeable you're wondering what else you can get away with. You reach into your make-up bag, fingers searching until they curl around a tube of mascara.
"How about some mascara?" You say, holding up the tube and waggling it in his face.
"Babe... no," he groans, scrunching up his face, but you're already twisting off the lid, giving him puppy dog eyes as you hold out the wand.
"Just a touch," you pout, voice soft and hopeful. "It'll finish off the look... make your lashes even more luscious..."
He looks up at you, unsure but clearly wavering, close to giving in.
"Go on..." you urge, gently coaxing. "Don't tell me you've never seen the fan comments online about your eyes... this'll make them even more striking."
That works. He lets out a sigh even though he's smiling.
"Fine... go on then... but you're stopping at mascara. I don't want lippy too."
You huff out a laugh at the mental image that conjures up, leaning in to applying a light coat, stifling a giggle at the look of intense concentration on his face as he tries his hardest not to blink.
When you're done you lean back to assess your handiwork and you can't help but grin widely in appreciation. His lashes look even longer and fuller now, framing his pretty eyes perfectly.
"The fans'd go feral if they could see you right now," you tease and he smirks up at you, reaching for the mirror, eager to see.
For a moment he's quiet, expression thoughtful as he inspects the results, turning his head slowly from left to right then back again. You wait with baited breath, arms folded across your chest.
“You’d better not tell the lads about this,” he says, eyes widening as he finally wrenches his gaze away from the mirror to see you lifting your phone to point it at his face, finger hovering over the record button.
“But you look beautiful darling,” you tease.
“Don’t you dare,” he warns but he’s laughing, reaching out like he’s making to swipe the phone from your hands, grabbing you instead and dragging you down on to the bed.
You collapse into a heap on top of him, dissolving into fits of squeals and laughter when he rolls you over until he’s hovering over you, pinning you down and mercilessly tickling your ribs. You just tease him even harder about being careful not to smudge his make-up.
