#First time I didn’t burn the garlic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

urhoneycombwitch · 5 months ago

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mean mouth

foreword: and if I said Eddie liked when you talked a lil' mean to him. what then. n e ways. just a little exploration of his early-day sub tendencies. I generally write Eddie as older but since this takes place in some nebulous time before s4 u can think whatever u want +18. ‘unnamed freak’ is Jacob. punk band name was not thought of by me but isn’t it great <3

cw: gn!reader w/breasts + V, oral (R receiving), unprotected PiV, soft!dom(ish) R, Eddie subbing from the top 😎, gotta-be-quiet-when-we-fuck trope my beloved

wc: 3.7k

____

The first time it happens, it’s an accident.

Eddie’s a blur of motion in the little trailer kitchen, knocking against your knees where you’re propped up on the counter (not entirely helpful but, in his words, ‘much-needed eye candy for the chef’), closing cupboards with a bang and talking animatedly over the hiss of onions cooking.

Your boy is loud, always has been, and tonight is no different- he’s crowing and cackling, recounting a particularly genius foible that he’d orchestrated during last night’s campaign, wooden spoon dipping in and out of heated pots over the stove like some crazed frizzy-haired potions master.

“And then.” He punctuates with a jab of the spoon towards you, a long drip of spaghetti sauce narrowly missing your leg- you flinch and squeak in alarm, but Eddie just grins wildly, eager to get to the punchline. “Red rolls a natural. Fucking. Twenty.”

“Holy shit!” Your smile is wide, natural and easy for him- Eddie’s excitement is infectious.

“I know!” Eddie spins back to the stove, plunking the wooden spoon back into the simmering sauce before opening the oven. Heat from the broiler rises in a mouth-watering cloud of herby smell, and Eddie reaches for the metal sheet of garlic bread, still talking. “Couldn’t fuckin’ believe it. And then I- shit!”

You don’t put the pieces together until Eddie’s spinning away from the open oven, whole body moving with the force of his hand being shaken in the air- he’d touched the roiling-hot metal with his bare hand.

“Oh, shit, babe-” Sliding from the counter, you nudge the oven door closed with a foot, reaching out to assess the damage- but Eddie’s a whirlwind, jumping up and down, swinging his injured hand around in jerky movements, howling in pain.

It’s kind of freaking you out, ‘cuz you can’t tell if he’s playing up or if he’s actually got a third-degree burn. The voice that comes out of you is commanding, one that you rarely use, firm and louder than his hollering.

“Eddie, for fuck’s sake- stand up and let me see it.”

That seems to do the trick. Eddie’s eyes snap to you, pausing mid-hop, and you take advantage of his semi-stillness to snatch his wrist and drag him towards the sink. The water runs cool and you turn his palm over in both of yours, breathing a sigh of relief when the pink welt across the bridge of his hand doesn’t have any blisters.

“Under the water,” you instruct, pushing at his silver-link braceleted wrist until he gets the memo, letting the flow from the tap ease the burn.

Eddie hisses through his teeth, and then goes quiet for the first time in ages.

There’s a few moments of this strained silence as you watch his hand carefully, color leaching back into his palm until you notice Eddie’s looking at you sideways.

Your shoulders hunch in a bit, arms crossed over your chest as you take a step back, misinterpreting his look as wounded. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just-”

“Hey, whoa, no-” Eddie’s hand automatically reaches for you, dripping water on the floor until he remembers his injury with a wince and plunges it back under the tap. “You don’t have to apologize for that. At all. Um.”

His left hand, the uninjured one, braces against the linoleum, ringed knuckles creaking as he shifts his stance. He sounds uncomfortable, and you’re about to start apologizing again until he lifts his head, eyes twinkling- “You were so bossy. It was totally hot.”

A shocked laugh burbles out of you, unsure if he’s joking or not- when he shifts his weight again, your gaze flickers down to the zipper of his dark jeans- he’s fully hard.

“Oh my god.” Split between amusement and mortification, adrenaline from seeing him get hurt fizzing through your veins, you laugh again- this time, sardonic, into your hands, shaking your head. “Jesus christ, Eddie.”

“Can’t help it.” He’s close to whining, hips pressing flush into the cabinet, partly to relieve the ache in his groin and partly to toy with you. “Goddamn. Sound so sexy when you tell me what to do-”

There’s a teatowel hanging from a nearby rack; you snatch it up and whip it at Eddie’s shoulder, playful and irritated as you snap, “Shut up.”

“Oh, yeah, just like that, baby-” Eddie’s fake sultry voice earns him another towel-whip, this time at his neck- he squawks, ducking to avoid another blow while still keeping his hand under the water.

“Ridiculous. You’re ridiculous,” you announce with finality, slinging the towel over your shoulder and turning on your heel. “I’m gonna get the burn cream. Try not to cum or die while I’m gone.”

His bright laughter follows you all the way down the hall.

___

The next time it happens, it’s sort-of on purpose.

Eddie’s glowing with a post-show rush- a local business convention meant Corroded Coffin got to play for a nearly-packed room. Nevermind the fact that their Bruce Springsteen cover was the one bringing in the most applause; Eddie’s always been able to feed off the energy of a crowd, and tonight was a riotous success.

The Hideout is loud but your boy is louder, as per usual. There’s sweat curling the baby hairs at his temples, bright spots of flushed pink in his cheeks from the round of whiskey you’d bought the band as a congrats.

He’s making a toast to his laughing bandmates, to beautiful you, to any nearby drunk who will listen, proclaiming his lust for life with one boot on the well-worn table in noble pose.

“And to Bev, the best of us-” Eddie tips his half-empty glass towards the nearby bar, shouting over the din of the jukebox and lively chatter, “-may your sharp-tongued wit live on!”

Bev pauses service to flip him off, and Eddie collapses back into the comfort of your arm over the booth’s top, grinning when the band trio of Jeff, Gareth, and Jacob nearly fall out of their chairs with laughter.

It’s always hot to see Eddie in his element, and tonight’s not an exception. He turns to lean into you, looking down the slope of his pretty nose like he knows why you’re staring.

A charming wink precedes, “Come here often?” but his flirting is interrupted when Jeff gets up for another round and bumps the table- whiskey sloshes over the side of Eddie’s cup and coats his hand in stickiness.

He swears viciously, yanking out his bandanna to wipe at the mess while you laugh over the rim of your own glass at him. “Real smooth, babe. Good thing you killed it on stage, otherwise I might not take you home.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, inhaling for another cheesy line to wow you with when his gaze flicks past you and his face falls.

Across the table, Jacob mutters, “Oh, shit,” and Gareth glowers.

Following their eyelines, you look over your shoulder to see Nico Hawley, frontrunner of Hawkin’s own punk band (the Scumshots), enter through the front door in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

When you turn back to Eddie, he’s already twisting the damp bandanna around his rings. The usual softness of his doe-brown eyes are now flint-sharp, and with a rush of panic, you remember the last time Eddie and Nico ran into each other; the night had ended with you back at the trailer, holding a cold pack to Eddie’s split lip, which he’d received from engaging in what he referred to as “friendly fisticuffs”.

There was nothing friendly about the way Eddie stood, then, to his full height, dark and imposing with his big mane of hair and leather jacket. The other Corroded boys won’t start any shit themselves, but will absolutely back Eddie up (fearless leader, resident shit-starter, instigator extraordinaire).

Time’s running out for you to get a handle on the situation, Eddie already moving to slide past you out of the booth when you snag his left jacket sleeve in a tight grip.

The first yank you give stops him in his tracks; the second, more intentional tug gets his face level with yours, Eddie’s hardened stare giving way to confusion as you pull him into your space.

In that same authoritative tone, you pin Eddie in place with a fistful of leather and command, low, right in his ear to be heard above the bar noise, “Don’t. Sit down and be good.”

At first, you’re not sure it worked, because Eddie’s just staring at you- slightly slack-jawed, pretty pink o mouth as his gaze flickers to your lips, back up to lock in your gaze again.

And then, by some miracle, Eddie obeys. Like a well-trained, marvelously-behaved dog. He’s back in his seat with a jolt to the booth, hand curling around his whiskey again.

Curls spill and shift around jacketed shoulders as he shoots the rest of the glass, adam’s apple bobbing, other hand slipping to cup your thigh hidden from view. “It’s not worth it,” he announces to the rest of the group, sounding strained, staring at the bottom of his empty glass, knuckles white with force.

Jake sighs, relieved, but Gareth scoffs, tipping the neck of his beer across the table to point, goading Eddie with “Since when have you been the one to take orders?”

“Shut up,” Eddie shoots back, blood returning and redistributing enough from where it had all rushed south, enough to defend you and himself against his drunk bandmate. “We’re already on Hop’s shit list, asshole, can’t be catching any more charges for stupid fuckin’ bar fights.”

Nico had disappeared into the throng of people at the bar while your group has been arguing- probably for the best that he’s out of eyesight. Unperturbed by Gareth’s comment (he likes you fine, he’s just grumpy from the alcohol and itching for a fight), you sip your drink and give him a shameless wink.

Underneath the tabletop, Eddie’s palm flattens over your jeans, fingers dipping to toy with the denim seam hugging the fatty plush part of your inner thigh. You shift your hips, subtly, feeling flush with heat and power. Just a couple of words and you have him eating out of your goddamn hand.

Jeff returns, setting a handful of beers in the middle of the table. “Saw that shitstain Hawley at the bar. What’d I miss here?”

Gareth swoops in with accusatory explanation, seizing another bottle out of Jeff’s hands. “What you missed is Eddie’s balls on a leash-”

“Jealous you don’t have someone at home to tie you up, Emerson?” Eddie’s dig comes swiftly, lips quirked in a smile around the rim of his drink.

There’s a raucous burst of laughter, Gareth’s curly mop of hair gets ruffled playfully, and everyone eases back into celebration, all while Eddie’s thumb edges closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.

___

The next time, though? Totally on purpose.

There’s a sliver of gold from the hallway light spilling under Eddie’s closed door, left on in case Jeff or Gareth needed to use the bathroom during the night.

And despite the fact that two of his bandmates are passed out on the couch and floor just a short walk away, Eddie’s hands are exploring the length of your body under the sheets like he’s got plans to map you with his tongue.

“We- ah- can’t.” Your whispering scold is interrupted with a sharp gasp when Eddie nips at your neck. “No fooling around. Not when we have guests.”

His left hand drips over the swell of your breast, squeezing and kneading, your nipples perking to attention (traitors) underneath the bra you haven’t yet had the chance to take off.

Eddie adopts your quiet tone as he speaks between kisses that trail further down your body, not outright ignoring your weak protests but not doing much to combat them, either. “Mmm. Got me so worked up. Been driving me crazy since the bar, y’know that? ‘S cruel, baby, can’t just talk mean and expect me not to act on it.”

“Wasn’t mean,” you counter, hands shifting automatically to wind through the soft locks of hair tickling at your stomach as Eddie continues his path downwards. “Didn’t wanna have to patch up a split lip. Had to make you behave somehow.”

The vibrating groan Eddie gives against the soft skin of your stomach tickles; when you squirm, shushing him again, his hands slide to your hips, pinning you in place.

Nose to your navel, warm breath fanning across the strip of skin just above the band of your panties, Eddie sounds strung-out already, close to begging. “Please, baby. I’ll be good. Make it so good for you. I’ll be quiet-”

His head snaps up at your sudden gasping laugh, chin perched on your tummy as he scoffs. “What, you don’t think I can keep quiet?”

“Eddie Munson, you couldn’t be quiet to save your life.” Your hands migrate to his cheeks, squishing them together fondly as he grins around your touch, his thumbs working circles at your bare hips.

“Ye of little faith.” In the dim light of the room, Eddie’s teeth are a flash of white before his mouth dips to press against the wet patch at your underwear.

“Fucking… shit-!” The expletives fly out harshly, only because you weren’t expecting the wet stripe of his tongue against your clothed folds. Head dropping back to the comfort of your pillow, you get one hand in Eddie’s hair again, the other finding its way to twist at the sheets.

You can feel his smile, equal parts smug and sympathetic as he coos saccharine to your inner thigh- “Now, now, angel. Gotta be quiet.”

Not willing to lose the fight, you focus on clamping your mouth shut, eyes closed in concentration- even as Eddie slides your underwear down and off, a quick flash of blue fabric before it’s swallowed by the floor’s darkness. Even as he seals his lips over your clit, sucking hard like he’s been deprived of your taste for too long.

When his tongue breaches your entrance, a soft gasp escapes, one that has your head turning sideways to grab some pillow with your teeth.

Eddie brings the wetness from your entrance up again, spreading it over your pulsing clit, nerve endings fizzing bright and hot in your stomach from the attention.

On instinct, your right leg kicks out, jolting with the spasm of pleasure- Eddie’s quick, though, taking advantage of the movement to find a new hold at the back of your thigh; rings biting cold, he pushes until you bend for him, your knee now pressed towards your chest.

“Gonna make it so good for you.” Eddie’s mumbling pussy-drunk rambles into your cunt that’s now on display, dragging his nose through the slick that weeps out of you, all for him- “So wet for me, angel. Fuck’s sake. This all for me?”

As if he doesn’t know. The hand that isn’t busy holding you open trails up your thigh, middle finger teasing at your entrance before slipping inside, no resistance thanks to the river of slick that rushes to greet it.

There’s a soft squelching noise as Eddie adds a second, curling them up, stroking against that tender gummy spot that always skyrockets your pulse.

The noise is almost enough to give you pause; feeling wild and flush with heat, your hand tightens in the crown of Eddie’s hair, eyes popping open as you prop yourself up on an elbow to give a strangled hiss of warning through your teeth.

Eddie senses your unease, pulls his fingers and mouth out and off (a travesty), softening the blow by giving a placating kiss to the top of your mound. “Shhh, sweetheart. S’okay. You hear that?”

Past the noise of nighttime crickets from the nearby cracked window, past the hum of the kitchen, you hear it as Eddie crawls back up- distant, tandem snores from the boys in the living room.

“They sleep like the dead. Like rocks,” Eddie promises, settling his weight into his hands planted on either side of your head, hair creating a curtain around your faces as he leans in. “So we can get our rocks off.”

“That was awful.” You kiss him anyways. He tastes like you, earthy and warm and wet, saliva mixed with your arousal as the kiss turns sloppy.

Eddie rocks his hips forwards, the friction from the fabric of his boxers making you both gasp into each other’s mouths. He’s achingly hard, cock leaking and smearing precum through the cotton; there’s a hurried, manic shift as you both work to strip the last pieces of clothing from yourselves, his boxers and your bra following your underwear from earlier into the dark of the room.

And then Eddie is sliding his cock through the folds of your pussy, slicking up the sizable length as much as he can before the tip nudges at your entrance; Eddie’s arms tremble with effort as yours wrap around his shoulders, soothing with a kiss to his cheek- “Lotta talk about keeping quiet, Munson. That’s all it was? Just talk?”

Now that his mouth isn’t intent on making you fall apart anymore, you’ve got some breathing room to tease. To be the one to work him up. Tucking a curly lock of hair behind his ear, your fingers trace adoringly over his temple before sliding to grip the back of his neck. “Gonna prove me wrong, hotshot?”

With this new proximity, you can see Eddie’s eyes- fixed intently on yours, black pupils nearly eclipsing the soft amber of his irises. He looks slightly feral, sweat sticking his bangs in place, lips parted, spots of pink staining his cheeks.

As if he doesn’t trust himself to speak, Eddie’s near-silent as he slides himself in to the hilt, jaw dropping as the warmth from your walls encompasses him completely.

The chained guitar pick around his neck tickles between the valley of your breasts. He pants, chest heaving, not daring to move yet; your breath stutters. You can feel him in your throat.

“So big,” you murmur, an honest reaction but one that has Eddie’s brows drawing together, a little whine escaping as his hips jerk forward, reflexive to your words.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

Eddie’s voice, strained though it may be, is on its way to regular volume. At the back of his neck, your hand flexes, a warning as he begins to rock steadily into your tight heat.

“Gotta be good.” Biting back your own groan, you sling your leg over his waist. At this angle, you can press your heel to the dip of his lower back. “Be good and quiet for me and I’ll let you come in my p-”

His hips snap forward, audibly, subsequent wet noise obscene, filling the room. Eddie moans into the curve of your neck before your sentence is even fully formed- “Jesus, baby. Oh my god. Can’t say stuff like that, gonna come too quick-”

His cock fits along the contours of your cunt like you were made for him, ridged tip dragging against that same sensitive spot of your front wall with each pull and thrust.

Eddie’s forehead thunks into yours as he rolls it back and forth, mindlessly. All the tease has melted out of his voice: it’s been replaced with a lust-filled rasp, rock-salt and deep.

Your voice, however, is all tease, still hushed but laced with mischief despite your mounting pleasure. “Yeah? Gonna come in my pussy?”

It’s almost not fair and you almost feel bad, seeing the way Eddie fights to make his gasp silent as the channels of your cunt clench in answer to his fucked-out expression. With his next thrust, Eddie loses the battle- a hoarse, blissful moan much too loud spills over and out into the quiet room.

Moving quick, your hand slips from the back of Eddie’s neck to his mouth, palm flat over the plush of his lips.. The commanding tone comes easy this time (with practice, you’ll surely be a natural).

“Eddie. Be. Quiet.”

Usually, Eddie’s got stamina enough to prioritize your pleasure, making sure you’re taken care of at least twice before he even thinks of himself. Tonight, though, he’s already been straining in his jeans for hours, unbearably turned on from your earlier sharp words, pushing the limits of desperation.

Your words, once again, do the trick. Eddie’s cock pulses, and he comes hard, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your hand, chorus of whimpers successfully dampened. His dark brows knit together, eyes pinched shut, nostrils flaring with each stilted breath.

He’s so fucking hot when he comes, hair a riot around stormcloud eyes that open to take you in. Even prettier when he’s coming down, leaning into your hand for support before you take it away, guiding and encouraging him to lay down.

Eddie collapses, carefully enough that it doesn’t jostle you, but still with his full weight. The crown of his head radiates heat against your chin.

His arms wrap solidly around your middle as he whispers (he’s learning) in croaky fragments, “Jesus fucking H. I think you just broke my brain. Smashed it into a million little pieces. Never come so hard in my life. I’m in love with you.”

The laugh you give him is quiet but golden, the rise and fall of your chest causing his head to bounce a bit (but Eddie could die happy between your breasts so he doesn’t mind). “See? It’s worth it to listen to me, sometimes.”

“You’re so smart. Gonna do whatever you say, forever and ever. Cart-blank.” And then he’s pushing up onto his elbows, keeping his face level with your left breast so he can suck your nipple into his mouth, gently worrying his teeth over the peaked bud.

Previously tangled in the sheets, your hand flies up to grab his shoulder, nails digging in. “Fuck. Fuck, Eddie. That’s good. And- ah- it’s ‘carte blanche’.”

He leaves the comfort of your breast with a sigh. “Whatever you say, princess. Gonna let me fuck you some more? Your turn to be the loud one.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut

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satori-runa · 24 days ago

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—Sweet as you

Summary: You and Captain Curly share a meal, despite your irritation regards the device that bakes your food.

Tags: Established Relationship, fluff, before the crash

Words: 0,8k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

No matter how many times you stand in the kitchen, Curly would always be amused by the sheer expression of despair on your face. He couldn't lie, it was extremely cute for him to see your brows furrow in irritation and your nose scuffing up slightly.

“You can't tell me that is cooking.” You mumbles, glancing at the device on the counter and the two packs of different ingredients in your hand. “This is more like…dark forbidden witchcraft.”

Being stuck in space, between all these stars, means that there is no fresh food, shops, or delivery services. The crew was certainly stuck with the device that mixes packs to make dishes. And as a former self-claimed chef, you hated it. This wasn’t cooking, and it never would be.

“Food is food.” The Captain chuckled quietly, bringing some tone into his usually exhausted voice. “As long as it works and we don't starve.” He took the packs gently out of your hands and placed them onto their respective spots in the cooking device, watching it close and make some bread.

“Told you, evil witchcraft.” You sighed, crossing your arms as you watched the machine whirr to life, producing something that only barely resembled real food. “I miss actual cooking.” You muttered, leaning against the counter. “You know, where you chop vegetables, sauté things, maybe burn a little garlic by accident.”

Curly smiled, stepping closer to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “I know,” he said softly, his voice less teasing now. “And I miss seeing you in your element, making something real. But hey, when we get out of here, I might see what I can do to improve this experience for you. Who knows, maybe we can get an actual freezer to store products and a stove.” His eyes softened as he looked at you, the exhaustion of space life momentarily lifting.

You looked up at him, your frustration melting a little under his gentle gaze. “You promise?”

He chuckled, a hand resting lightly on your waist. “Of course. You’re going to make us a feast as soon as we’re planet-side again.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “I’ll hold you to that.” The warmth of his body against yours was comforting, and you moved your hands to hold him closer.

Curly pressed a light kiss to your forehead, his hand brushing through your hair. “In the meantime, we’ve got witchcraft bread.” He grinned, reaching for the freshly made loaf. “And the company isn’t so bad either.”

You smiled, resting your head against his chest. “I guess I can live with that.”

You settled at the small table with Curly, the freshly made bread, and some packets of synthetic jam between you. Despite your earlier complaints, the warmth of the meal and the quiet intimacy of the moment made it feel… different. Better. Curly tore off a piece of bread and handed it to you, his eyes soft as he watched you.

You hesitated at first, taking a small bite, expecting the usual bland taste. But somehow, with Curly sitting across from you, smiling like that, it didn’t seem so bad. The bread was warm, and the sweetness of the jam clung to your tongue in a way that felt almost comforting.

“You’re enjoying it.” Curly said, his lips shifting into a grin as he watched your expression soften.

“Maybe just a little.” You admitted, taking another bite. “But it’s definitely not because of the bread.” You smiled at him, feeling the warmth of the moment wrap around you like a blanket.

Curly chuckled, taking a bite himself. But when you noticed a few crumbs clinging to his lips, you reached out instinctively. “You’ve got something…” You murmured, brushing the crumbs off the corner of his mouth with your thumb. His lips quirked at your touch, eyes twinkling.

Before you could pull your hand back, Curly gently caught your wrist, holding it in place. His gaze locked with yours for a moment, soft and teasing, before he slowly leaned forward. His lips pressed against your fingers, and he licked a bit of jam that had smeared onto your skin, his eyes never leaving yours.

A warm flush spread across your cheeks as his lips lingered, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. “Tastes better this way.” He murmured with a playful smile.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, heart fluttering at the way he looked at you, so full of affection. “You’re impossible.” You whispered, feeling the closeness between you like a steady heartbeat.

“Maybe.” He said, still holding your hand gently in his, “But I make the jam taste sweeter, don’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile never faded as you leaned closer, resting your forehead against his. “Yeah, you do.” You whispered, feeling the warmth of him giving you comfort.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing x you #captain curly #captain curly x you #captain curly x reader #curly x reader #curly x you #⊹₊⟡⋆satori.speaks #⊹₊⟡⋆writings

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irndad · 1 year ago

Note

Hi hun! I just love love love your pieces <3

As for Carmy prompts - could we have some hurt to comfort when Carmen doesn't show up for a date? It's ok if you dont wanna do it or i requested incorrectly, but if you do, i cant wait to read!!!!! Thank you so much mwah mwah mwah

I’m not thaaaaaat sure how I feel about this and it’s so long but your request was so sweet I had to!!! Ily <3333

wc:1.1k

There’s so fucking much in his ear. Fak’s screaming whatever bullshit he’s sure will help absolutely nothing, Richie’s harassing Sydney and Tina’s trying to keep them all in line and will of that goddamn chaos, he shouldn’t be able to make out anything.

Prepping this whole thing, the opening, Richie biting his head off for fucking sending him to the best kitchen in the city- it’s all a bit fucking much.

He barely hears the door open (she has a key, because of course she does) and he doesn’t even look over his shoulder as he calls out her name.

“Hey, baby,” he yells back towards the entrance. It feels good, chopping the vegetables. It’s actually one of her favorite dishes that he’s making, and something inside him preens that he gets to feed her tonight. Everything feels illustrious under her gaze. He remembers the first time he’d cooked for her, how her watchful gaze felt a bit like sunlight; equal parts burning and doused in light.

She’d said she liked his hands, then. Said he looked pretty with a knife and a cutting board. “Will you try this sauce for me?”

He hears her heels click, the soft thud of her purse landing on the couch. It’s a slow saunter she does to him, but he’s razor focused- what does it need, garlic? Oregano?

It only breaks when he sees her. And she looks gorgeous. Wearing a black dress with a cowl neck, shimmery eyeshadow that catches and dances in the low light of the kitchen, a crimson lipstick neatly applied to her beautiful pout.

She smells like vanilla, and Carmen has the privilege of knowing what real, rich, Madagascar vanilla smells like. He’d loved the scent so much that he’d bought her a perfume made from it, and there’s a warmth blooming in his chest when he realizes that she’s wearing it.

Wordlessly, she opens her mouth and leans forward to try the sauce covered wooden spoon he’d raised to her lips.

Even when she’s in front of him, he can’t believe she’s someone he knows. That she’s wasting her time with someone like him.

“Jesus Christ you look beautiful,” he says without thinking, and he kisses her quick. It’s true. She’s a vision, plucked out of an old movie shot on grainy film, warm to the touch film.

He abandons the spoon and the sauce without much fanfare, a rough, calloused hand meeting her soft warm cheek.

“Thanks, Carmen.” she says, but her doe-eyes deny the joy she typically exudes in his presence. It’s his proudest achievement, how she glows around him. She’s tight lipped, smile betraying her words.

“What’s wrong? Is it the sauce? I know it’s a mess in here, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d see it-“

“No! No, seriously, it’s okay, honey.” She tries to insist but it really doesn’t work. He moves the pot off the burner and twists himself completely to face her, placing a gentle hand at the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. He tries not to let it sting, how she stiffens for a moment before softening again.

“What happened?” He asks again.

“It’s the first,” she says, a rueful grin on her pretty lips, before gesturing down at her outfit, and oh.

The dinner. The fucking dinner that he’d promised her. His sweet girl, who waited up every night, who dutifully tasted every recipe, who soothed him on nights where nightmares stole his sleep-

“Fuck,” he says, more to himself than her, but god, he can’t stop looking at her, “Fuck! God, I’m such an asshole, I’m so sorry-“ he insists, suddenly so grateful that she’s letting him touch her, even more aware of every point of contact with the sudden fear that it could escape in a moment’s notice.

“Y’know, Carm, if you could’ve just told me that would’ve been one thing? But I left the reservation, and this was the one night we both had off!”

“I know, baby, fuck, I forgot-“

She backs away from him, and there’s a sick feeling in his stomach. Sitting on the chair he keeps by the stove (he put it there for her, because she loved watching him) she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“It’s just not fair, Carm. To either of us. If you don’t have time for this-“

“I have time for this! I have time. Don’t say things like that.”

“Carmy, I’m not trying to hurt you. You know that’s the last thing I want.”

And it is. It’s the last thing she wants, and Carmen fucking knows it. Knows that three months in he’s supposed to have brought her flowers and taken her out and done more than cook for her and spend hours in his shitty apartment, and lately she’s been asking if he has time for being in a relationship.

And maybe he doesn’t, but fuck it if he doesn’t feel like he can breathe around her. This was the point of the dinner- take her out, be a boyfriend. Have her wait a little while on him. Show her he’s worth it.

Instead he fucking missed it, stayed home and made sauce no one would even eat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing her hand and lacing it through his own. It always shocks him, how it fits his own. “Okay? I’m so, so fuckin’ sorry. Tell me what I can do. Tell me, cos I’ll do just about fuckin’ anything to get you to stop saying shit like that.”

Her voice comes out small.

“I was alone, Carm. They kept trying to take my order and you weren’t there, and eventually I had to leave.“

She looks up at him, eyes sparkling and kind and Carmen. She looks beautiful, and if he wasn’t with her, he’d see her in the street and hate whatever fuck was lucky enough to be who she got dressed up for.

“I am so, so sorry. It’s just with the stove, and Fak, and Richie fucking calling me to bitch me out every thirty seconds,” she reaches her delicate fingers to brush his cheek with concern, “I should’ve remembered. It’s just about the only thing this week worth remembering. And you look…stunning, I should’ve been there. I should’ve. Please.”

Her expression softens and he loves the sight of her, warm and kind and lovely in both form and temperance. She’s so patient with him, responds with kindness- a gift.

She brushes her soft lips on his cheek and he tries to savor the sensation, note how warm and wonderful it is to have her form pressed against his, how her arms knot themselves around his waist.

“I know you’re stressed, babe,” she murmurs against his cheek, eyes shut, “tell you what. Why don’t you make me something better than what that place could’ve, huh?”

After he kisses her for so long that excess is no longer the right terminology, he makes her the best pasta she’s ever had in her goddamn life.

It’s better this way, anyway. She’s gorgeous in a way that’s just his to look at tonight.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x You #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto imagine #the bear #the bear x reader

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andvys · 5 months ago

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter nineteen ⭐︎ For you, I would ruin myself, a million little times

Warnings: angst, mentions of unrequited love, mentions of loss, insecurities, allusions to depression, mentions of cheating (jancy), sad memories, fluff at the end (with Steve, yes)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You take a painful road down memory lane and it makes you question everything.

Word count: 10.4k+

⭐︎ as always a special shoutout to @hellfire--cult thanks for plotting and writing with me hehe

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

“Are you ready to tell me or not?”

You look up from your plate, still chewing on the pasta that Eddie had cooked, you put down the fork and reach for your pepsi as you look at Max who stares at you with a tilted head, a knowing smile resting on her face.

You shake your head and furrow your brows at the girl, glancing at Eddie who looks just as confused as you do.

“Tell you what?”

Max picks up her garlic bread and shrugs, “about you and Steve and how you’ve been sneaking around behind everyone’s backs,” she says nonchalantly before she takes a bite.

You nearly choke on your drink, eyes growing wide, matching the ones of Eddie who seems to be just as surprised as you are, he even stopped eating.

You blink, trying to process her words.

“W-What?” Is all that you can say as you stare at the redhead, like a deer caught in headlights and with a pounding heart.

“You know, at first I thought Lucas was crazy for teasing Steve about you and making all those comments about how perfect you two are for each other, especially because Steve always seemed just as annoyed with you as you with him but then he suddenly had different reactions whenever Lucas said something about you and I noticed how red his cheeks got every time he looked at you all lovey dovey,” she holds her finger up, eyes growing wide as she pointing at you to stay quiet, “and then… and then! You both started disappearing at the same time and started whispering to each other, sitting next to each other when it’s something you wouldn’t have done before, not to mention the secret hand holding,” Max laughs, shaking her head at you.

Your eyes widen at her ‘lovey dovey’ comment, hope that has been rising in you more and more, burning warmly in your chest but Steve doesn’t look at you that way, does he?

Eddie stares at her, feeling impressed by her observations.

Just like him, you feel impressed too, shocked and a little nervous but not scared the way you would feel if it were anyone else but her. She can keep a secret and she is like a sister to you – and unfortunately, sisters always know everything and uncover secrets without a struggle.

“I don’t know how the others haven’t figured it out yet, you two are so obvious,” she snorts, picking up her fork again, she stabs her pasta onto it, “just as obvious as my mom and your uncle,” she says to Eddie who shrugs and nods in agreement, “I mean… does anyone actually believe that he’s fixing our fence? The fence is fine! … They go to Enzo’s like every Friday night, by the way.”

Eddie chuckles and takes a bite of his food, “it’s only a matter of time until you and your mom move in with us.”

You expect Max to roll her eyes at him but instead she smirks, “yeah, hope you’re ready to become my personal driver.”

“Am I not your personal driver already?” Eddie snorts. “I mean, you even got two personal drivers, didn’t you both go shopping this morning?” He asks, pointing between you.

“Yes we did, and we were very successful,” Max nods.

You aren’t surprised about Susan and Wayne, they’re truly very obvious and now you can’t help but wonder if you and Steve are the same, with the exception that you two aren’t dating… sadly.

Max looks away from Eddie, returning her gaze back to you, “so when were you gonna tell me that you and Steve are a couple?”

Eddie coughs, glancing at you sideways as he grimaces when he sees your falling expression.

“They’re not a couple,” Eddie says for you, noticing the way your eyes sadden and your lips curl downwards at his words.

Max furrows her brows, tilting her head at you and giving Eddie a look of confusion.

“What–”

“Yeah, Steve and I are not… dating.”

The past few weeks have felt like it though, it felt like there was something more between you and him, and after finding out that you have been the only girl for him these past few months, it started feeling even more like it.

Max stares at you now, eyebrows pulling up and eyes flashing with even more confusion, “but… huh?”

“They’re just having… uh… fun, Red,” Eddie chuckles awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck as he leans back in his seat, “you know… adult fun.”

You roll your eyes at his choice of words, just the way she does before she gives him a deadpan look.

“I’m not five, Eddie! I know what they’re doing but that makes no sense!”

“What doesn’t make sense?” You ask and reach for your drink again.

She looks down bewildered, dropping her fork and waving with her hands as she points at you, “Billy had fun and you know how much fun he had!”

You chuckle and nod.

“But he never held hands with those girls or looked at them like… like he was in love or something! He had fun and then he moved on to… the next… fun. It’s different with you and Steve though!”

A sigh falls from your lips and your shoulders slump as you lean back.

Yeah, of course it’s different with you and Steve, the difference between Billy’s fun and your fun is that he never loved any of the girls he had been with, you on the other hand, are sickly and madly in love with the guy you are having ‘fun’ with and you are pretty certain that Steve doesn’t feel the same, no matter what anyone says.

Eddie glances at you, waiting for you to say something, to tell her the truth because he knows you will, you don’t seem to feel the need to hide from Max, knowing she won’t run off to her friends and tell them all about it and risking it reaching Steve, Max isn’t like that, especially not when it comes to you.

“It’s not, Max…” You sigh, looking down at your hands.

She raises her eyebrows again, squinting her eyes at you.

“So… you’re saying it’s actually just fun?” She asks like she almost wants to chuckle in amusement.

You sigh again and raise your head again, rolling your eyes, “well… yeah… no, I– fuck… no, no it’s not just fun… not for me.”

Eddie looks at you sadly, sighing too.

“And Steve?”

You shrug, despite the hope in you, you don’t know what he feels, if he even feels anything for you.

“It’s just… fun… for him?” You mumble, flinching at your own words.

“Uh… is it?” Max mumbles, not looking or sounding convinced.

“It’s what he said,” Eddie shrugs, rolling his eyes when he thinks back to the night he confronted you both, “and he seemed pretty set on it, he said it just that and nothing more when I found out about it.”

“Mhm.” You nod, hiding your face as you tilt your head down again, not wanting to show more feelings than necessary. “Can we talk about something else now, please?”

Eddie nods, “sure–”

“No,” Max shakes her head, “I wanna talk about this!”

“My relationship with Steve isn’t appropriate to discuss with a teenager–”

“Oh, so there is a relationship,” Max interrupts you, giving you a smug smirk.

“No, there isn’t, you know what I mean!”

She chuckles and crosses her arms over her chest, continuing to stare at you.

“So… Do you love him then?”

Your eyeroll is enough of an answer to that question.

“I knew it,” she murmurs under her breath, “and what about him, you think he doesn’t feel the same?” She asks, thinking that her own question sounds absurd, she saw the way Steve looked at you, multiple times already.

“I know he doesn’t,” you shrug.

“Why not?”

“Because he hated me, Max–”

“Yeah, he obviously hated you so so much, that’s why you’re holding hands now and kissing every time you think no one’s watching! I don’t know about you but I wouldn’t hold hands and kiss my enemy… oh! Or look at them with lovesick smiles and everything!”

You sigh again, tilting your head back as you look up at the ceiling.

This isn’t good for you, it really isn’t, you don’t need to be fed with more delusions.

“I think he feels the same, it’s pretty clear!”

“If it’s so clear then why isn’t it being talked about?” Eddie retorts, not feeling convinced of Max’s words, “why didn’t he say anything to change their relationship yet? I mean, he had no issue talking to his ex-girlfriend about his feelings for her when he knew she was with someone else! Oh and by the way, Nancy cheated on him and left him for someone else and he still confessed his feelings for her again… years later, he knew he would look like an absolute fool – which he did but that didn’t stop him! So what should stop him now, hm? He’s got nothing to lose with her!” Eddie points at you, “she never hurt him, she has no one else that he has to compete against, she fucking loves him! So him confessing his feelings for her wouldn’t ruin anything like it would have with Nancy or Jonathan if they reacted badly to his stupid confession!”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, ignoring the stinging in your heart.

You knew all about his love confession to Nancy – their conversation in the RV was only the first step towards it. You remember the jealousy you felt when he told her about his dream, about the kids and the future he always wished for, you knew who he saw by his side when he talked about it all. To find out that he confessed his love to her in the Upside Down made you feel even worse, especially when you were still recovering from all your injuries. Robin rambled away about it and told you every detail, you didn’t even ask for.

Eddie’s words make your heart ache yet again, you know he is right, but they kill your hope a little and you are holding onto it so tightly.

Max, on the other hand, refuses to agree with him, she squints her eyes at him, leaning closer to the table, “maybe he is scared, Eddie? Have you thought of that? I mean, the whole thing with Nancy was… a heat of the moment kind of thing, there was literally nothing between them but there is something between them!” She argues, pointing at you.

“I have thought about it,” Eddie nods, “but if I feel like I might lose someone I love for not saying anything to them, I damn right would do something!”

“I love him, Eddie,” you mumble, your cheeks heating up at your vulnerable confession in front of Max, “but I never plan on telling him how I feel, so…”

Max groans at your words and rolls her eyes, “two idiots, I swear to god, I bet Steve is feeling and saying the same shit to whoever else knows.”

“Robin,” Eddie nods at her.

Robin, yeah.

Robin who is suddenly not as fond of you as she was before, rolling her eyes and scoffing at you every chance she gets, irritating you a little more every time you’re around her now. You considered her a close friend before she suddenly turned on you and started acting weirdly towards you. You don’t know what her deal is but you suspect that she minds your presence around her best friend, fearing that you might ‘steal’ him from her because he is spending less time with her and more with you – as though she wasn’t the first to ditch him to be with Vickie.

“Great!” Max shrugs, “then why don’t you talk to her, try to get information out of her… since you two are accomplices?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head quickly, turning to Eddie in panic, “please don’t! Don’t talk to Robin, Eddie! She’s gonna tell Steve and if he doesn’t feel the same then…”

Eddie shakes his head at you, not needing you to finish the sentence. He reaches his hand out to you and squeezes your shoulder reassuringly, “I won’t, don’t worry,” he sighs, looking at you with sympathy in his eyes. He knows how deep your feelings are for Steve, how much you love him and how long you have loved him for already and now that you somewhat have him, you try to do everything to keep him, even when you are breaking your own heart in the process.

He isn’t fond of this affair because he has an idea of how it will end and he fears that day, knowing what it will do to you but he can’t do anything to change it, he can’t save you from heartbreak, knowing it will happen sooner or later.

You slump back in your seat, feeling pathetic for feeling this way, for holding on so desperately when there is only a small chance that there might be something and even that chance isn’t enough for you to go and find out the truth, not even when hope lingers in you after all the sweet moments you had with him.

Max looks at you in a way her brother once did, when he found out the truth and realized just how deep your feelings were, back then already.

You remember how the look in his eyes went from shock to confusion to sadness and sympathy.

And you remember how awkward and embarrassed you had felt that night.

It was raining outside, the windows were fogged and the smell of sex lingered in the room, you never knew what people meant by it when they mentioned that smell until that night. Your forehead was coated with sweat, your cheeks were glowing and feeling hot, your skin smelled like him, like his cologne and his aftershave, and your body felt different, not in a bad way, just in a foreign one.

You held the sheets tightly against your chest and looked out the window, watching as the rain paddled down the glass, a smile tugged at your lips and your chest wasn’t filled with sadness for once.

“Hey,” Billy said and pulled your attention back to him, “give me a smile.”

You turned your head to look at him, a giggle fell from your lips when you noticed the polaroid camera in his hands, his eyes were squinted and a smirk lingered on his face.

“Seriously?”

He took a picture of you before you reached forward and swatted the camera out of your face.

Billy leaned back from you and held the camera away so you couldn’t reach it, he laughed at the bashful expression on your face.

“Need a picture of your special first time,” he joked and laughed again when you rolled your eyes at him and blushed.

He took the picture out and started shaking it for reveal. He leaned back against your pillows and reached for his beer, drinking it while staring at you.

“Well, we are not doing that again,” he said and you knew that it would’ve offended many other girls, but not you, because you felt the same.

“Yeah, it didn’t feel right, did it?” You scrunched your nose.

“Not at all,” Billy laughed before his face grew serious as his eyes roamed your face, “do you feel alright?” He asked in concern because he noticed how distant you looked, like your mind was somewhere else or with someone else.

He straightened up and furrowed his brows at you, “who are you thinking about?”

You felt caught and you felt ashamed.

You never admitted your feelings for Steve to anyone, they didn’t even make sense so how could you even begin to describe them?

You looked down and closed your eyes, you pulled your brows together as though in pain and it only made him more curious.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?” Billy asked and dropped the polaroid camera and the picture on the mattress beside him. He placed the beer back on the nightstand and grabbed his pack of cigarettes instead, “is he ugly?”

His question made you snort, you opened your eyes again and looked at his serious face.

“No, he is not ugly, not in the slightest.”

His lips curled downwards for a moment as he nodded, “do I know him?” He asked before he placed a cigarette between his lips.

You only gave him a look and that was enough to confirm his question.

He hummed and kept staring at you with a curious look on his face, he lit up his cigarette and threw the lighter on the nightstand, taking a long drag before he blew the smoke out.

“I do, huh?” He chuckled and squinted his eyes at you, “are you gonna tell me or are you gonna let me guess?”

You smirked and shrugged at him, you held the blanket tighter against your chest and reached for the camera beside him, “guess, Billy,” you teased him as though your heart didn’t start pounding from all the nervousness inside of you.

“Jesus,” he sighed in annoyance, “is he popular or a loser?”

You shrugged and squinted your eye as you brought the camera up to your face and wasted no second to take a picture of him too, he didn’t seem to mind, not like you did.

He started saying names, random names of guys you weren’t even sure went to Hawkins High. You kept shaking your head and saying no, you felt surprised that Steve’s name hadn't left his lips yet.

“Huh, it’s not the drug dealer is it? What’s his name again?”

“Uh… You mean Eddie?”

He nodded and pointed his finger at you, “yeah, him.”

You shook your head, “no, he’s cute but no, he’s not really my type,” you mumbled and sighed, “probably would’ve been better if it was someone like him, he’s nice, at least.”

He hummed and stared at you, he fell quiet for a while and his face grew serious after a few minutes, then his eyes widened and he cursed under his breath.

“Fuck… girl, please don’t tell me that it’s King Steve.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and your face started burning beneath his gaze, you couldn’t stand to look into his eyes any longer so you broke eye contact and looked down at your hands in your covered lap.

“Shit…” He sighed and slumped back, looking at you in disbelief, like you had fallen in love with his arch nemesis.

“I know,” you mumbled in annoyance because you knew what he was about to say, “you don’t have to tell me how stupid I am, I already know that.”

Billy stayed quiet for a moment and stared at the pained expression on your face. Yeah, he was about to say something stupid about Steve, about his stupid hair and your feelings for him but when he looked closer – and he knew you pretty well at that point, he could see just how much pain lingered behind your eyes, how glassy they got and how your bottom lip wobbled just the slightest bit.

He was never the best with words and he certainly was never someone to give comfort, he didn’t even know how to, no one ever comforted him, only you did.

He bit his tongue and swallowed the bitter words that were about to leave his lips.

He opened his mouth but shut it again when he saw you wiping away a tear.

Billy sighed and ran a hand through his mullet, he pinched the bridge of his nose and rolled his eyes at the thought of the jock.

“It’s pretty serious isn’t it?”

You only nodded and said nothing.

“So… you’re like in love with him or some shit?”

“I guess so,” you whispered even though you knew for certain. “Feels like it’s tearing my heart apart or something every time I see him, every time he says something dumb to me.”

“How…?” He asked and sighed again, “shit, I knew you liked him, you wouldn’t have defended him every chance you got but I thought you were just being nice to that fucker… Jesus…”

You shook your head again and slowly looked up at your best friend, “I can’t give you an answer, Billy. I don’t know how it happened, it just… happened. That’s gonna sound so cheesy but… when I first saw him I just… I felt safe and comfortable… happy. He smiled at me when he passed me in the hallway and I just – I don’t know, I can’t explain this feeling and it doesn’t matter anyways, he turned out to be a dick who hates my guts so… I’ll get over these feelings someday.”

Billy didn’t believe your words and you didn’t either.

You have loved him at first sight and that never changed or lessened, your feelings kept getting worse and worse and it made no sense because he kept treating you badly.

You were infatuated with him, bewitched.

You expected Billy to judge you but he didn’t, you thought he would say bad things about Steve but he never did, at least not when it came to you and your feelings for him.

If anything, Billy encouraged you to act on your feelings, to get closer to him, to make a move and try.

And you did, but it only made everything worse.

And now, you stare at his sister and watch as she tries to do the same.

It went sideways the first time and you fear that it won’t go any different this time – yes, things have changed, you and Steve are something now, something you would have never seen coming a year before, especially after what happened when you did try to make a move on him. You just can not find it in yourself to even try, to gather all your confidence and use the sliver of hope to confess to him in hopes that he could feel the same, that you could be something more than what you are now.

You can feel that things have shifted into a different direction, the softness in his eyes, his gentle touches and acts of affection are proof of that and still, you fear rejection and losing this because this thing between you is just too fragile, too easy to break and ruin.

It’s not long ago that Steve couldn’t even bare to look at you without rolling his eyes or scoffing some cold words at you and you try not to think of them, to leave things in the past, to not go over his hurtful words again and again but something inside of you seems to manifest all the saddening and painful words your poor heart was attacked with in the past and you can’t fight off those memories, you try to but you can’t and it saddens you even more because the past few weeks with Steve, have been nothing but heavenly to you.

You woke up in his arms every morning, he held you through the night, woke you with kisses and cooked you breakfast, he held your hand and treated you as if you were his, like you were his girlfriend and he your boyfriend – you got a taste of something you always craved and longed for and that should bring you peace, it really should but he is showing you, giving you something that you know he will take away again when the time comes.

When you step into your house after dropping Max off at El’s, you make your way up to your bedroom and open your closet, looking for something comfortable to change into, when the navy blue color flashes in your peripheral vision. You grab a pair of your sleeping shorts and a random shirt of Steve’s, trying to ignore the dress that practically stares at you, forcing you to recall one of your worst memories.

You clutch your clean clothes to your chest and take a look at the pretty sundress you bought at the GAP store when Starcourt mall was still intact. You reach out to touch it, pinching the thin material between your thumb and your pointer finger, a sad smile tugs at your lip when you think back to the day you bought it – just to look pretty for him.

Your best friend kept encouraging you, filling you with hope that you could have a chance with Steve, that he wouldn’t say no to you if you tried to make a move, if you tried to ask him out, if you went after your feelings. Week after week had passed and Billy forced confidence onto you and pushed you towards a guy he didn’t even like.

You kept denying his words, you knew you had no chance with him, not even after you graduated from high school, not even after Steve had changed and his mean words became less harsh.

And yet, a part of you listened to Billy, that naive and hopeful part of you that really wanted her crush to like her back and give her the chance she always wanted.

You bought a pretty dress, you got your hair done and did your makeup, lighter and girlier than usual, you put on your favorite perfume and jewelry and you decided to give it a try – you shouldn’t have, you should’ve listened to your brain and not your heart.

The mall was bustling with people, kids were running around the water fountain, a group of young girls rushed past you, giggling in excitement as they carried their many shopping bags, you were standing in front of Scoops Ahoy, with your cheeks burning and your heart racing.

In all honesty, you had no idea what you were doing, you came up with no plan before you came here, you just woke up that morning and decided that Billy was right, that you could take a chance and go after what you wanted – you had nothing to lose, except for your dignity. Besides, you were no longer in school, if things went wrong, you could easily avoid him.

You had taken a look inside, only a few teenagers sat by the window, it wasn’t crowded, not in the slightest. You saw him, he was standing behind the counter with his back turned to you as he was talking to his co-worker who spoke to him through the small window between them.

Your heart skipped a beat when he turned to the side, a smile lingered on his face as he nodded along to the music that played on the radio.

You could have still turned back, you could have still left without being seen, without having made a fool of yourself. But you didn’t, you didn’t turn around, you didn’t change your mind, you walked into your own demise.

You took a deep breath and walked up to the counter, you twisted the ring on your finger and focused on him. He looked so good, even in his silly uniform, he looked so pretty. His sailor hat was laying on the counter and he was twisting the ice cream scooper in his hand, he only turned around when his co-worker, Robin, nudged her chin at you before she turned her back to him and disappeared further into the room.

You blinked and breathed heavily as you realized that you didn’t even know what to say, you didn’t prepare for this, you were never good with words or conversing with boys, you didn’t know how to flirt – well, you did, Billy taught you, but you had never used your newly learned skill before.

And when Steve turned around to face, it was too late to think of what to say, anyways.

“Ahoy–” his cheerful words cut short and the smile on his face fell when he saw you, “oh, it’s you.”

That should have been enough to change your mind, to make you turn back and run the other way.

“Hi Steve.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped and he slid his scooper back into place, he put his hands on the counter and sighed.

“Blondie,” he nodded.

You were too nervous to see the way he looked at you, the way his eyes roamed your face and your styled hair, your glowing skin and your pretty dress, the way his cheeks changed color as he kept staring at you.

“What can I get for you?” He asked and cleared his throat as he gestured to the many ice cream flavors.

You shifted and tilted your head to the side, your hair fell from your shoulder and down your back. He looked again, at your exposed skin, at the dainty chain around your neck.

“I uh… I’m… I don’t know yet,” you stuttered and felt yourself growing more nervous than before.

Steve sighed and looked away from you, “of course,” he murmured under his breath.

Your cheeks burned hotly, your eyes felt heavy and you looked down as you already felt the regret rushing through your body. You wanted to say something, anything, but all your words were caught in your throat, everything you would’ve said if he liked you a little more were stuck and frozen.

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath, you looked at his face and wondered why you even let Billy encourage you and talk you into doing this. The few ‘nice’ interactions you had with Steve meant nothing. The smile he wore on his lips before could never be directed at you, the soft look in his hazel eyes disappeared the moment he saw you, the tone in his voice changed in an instant.

“How are you…?” You asked, cringing at yourself, at the question, at the shakiness in your voice.

He looked back at you and raised his eyebrows, an unamused chuckle fell from his lips.

“What do you want?” He asked and shrugged at you, “we’re out of high school, we don’t have to see each other anymore and I know you’re not here for ice cream, you usually don’t have an issue making a decision, so why are you here, Blondie?”

You could not help but draw back as a cold shudder ran down your spine, you blinked and looked down.

You missed the look of guilt that flashed in his eyes when he watched you step back and you closed your eyes for a moment, your brows scrunched together as though in pain.

He was always this way, you knew what you were stepping into, you knew how he would react and you couldn’t blame him, you weren’t exactly nice to him in school and snapped back at him every time he threw a rude comment at you.

You swallowed and took a deep breath, you looked back up at him, at the hazel eyes you always loved so much.

Steve huffed and he took a deep breath, he stared at you intensely and you didn’t know what it meant, a part of you thought that it was his hatred, the other was foolishly hopeful.

“Yeah… I know but I just… I thought that maybe we could,” you paused as your heart felt as though it was about to tear from your chest any moment. He looked at you so intensely, he made you feel so small beneath his gaze.

“We could what?” He asked a little too harshly and made you cower back.

“This was a bad idea,” you whispered to yourself and took another step back, “I’m sorry I just…”

“What’s up with you?” Steve mumbled and furrowed his brows at you, confused at the side of you he never met before. “Did you miss being annoying so much that you had to come bother me at work, Blondie?”

You heard the teasing in his voice, you saw the sliver of amusement in his eyes but you really only focused on the way your heart clenched in pain and how regret took on full control.

You rolled your eyes, not at him but at yourself, at your foolishness.

Of course he doesn’t want to see you, why would he?

He never liked you and he certainly wouldn’t start now, he would probably laugh into your face if you asked for what you came for – a date.

Your cheeks were nearly hurting from all the blushing, your heart was skipping and pounding, your hands felt clammy. You never felt the need to cry in front of him, you never felt vulnerable around him because your walls were always high up and guarded by a second layer, now you came without protection and decided to let yourself be vulnerable for once, only to feel like breaking down from the embarrassment that was gnawing at you.

“Cat got your tongue? That’s new…” He chuckled and stared you down still, eyebrows still furrowed and lips pursed. His hardened expression fell a little and something else took over, something you couldn’t read. “Did someone stand you up?”

Steve wasn’t used to your silence so you weren’t surprised about the confusion on his face. You looked at him again and caught him eyeing you up and down, his eyes lingered on your dress for longer than necessary.

His question went unanswered and he grew frustrated with you.

“Can’t blame them if they did,” he mumbled, throwing daggers at your heart.

That stung.

Normally his words would’ve angered you and you would’ve shot back straight away, despite your feelings for him, you wouldn’t have kept quiet or struggled to say something back but not today, today you let him hurt you – deep down you knew this would happen, this was always how you interacted, he said something mean and then you would too. His words were nothing new and yet they cut deep.

You swallowed hard and dug your nails into your palms, your breathing quickened and you knew you had to get out of here but something kept you standing, you felt as though you were frozen.

Steve coughed awkwardly and looked away for a moment, he grabbed his scooper again, “so… wanna eat your feelings or what?” He asked and pointed at the many flavors, eyes back on you.

“No–”

“Hi, Steve!”

You nearly flinched at the high pitched voice and had to hold back the eyeroll when you saw the girl next to you, who didn’t bother to hide the dirty looks she gave you before she returned her attention back to him, flashing him a sickly sweet smile that made his eyes light up.

The girl used to be on the cheer team, very popular and gossipy, unkind and one of the most unpleasant people you have met – and she usually spends her Saturday nights in Billy’s sheets.

Steve’s eyes were no longer on you, instead they were stuck on the pretty girl beside you, he eyed her up and down, not with distaste or annoyance but with interest and a smirk on his lips.

“Hey, how are you?” He asked and leaned against the counter, a flirty look crossed his face, “you look amazing, Olivia.”

She giggled and twirled her hair around her finger, she licked her lips as she eyed him like she was hungry.

“So do you.”

Steve smirked at her and chuckled softly.

At that point, you didn’t know what you felt because your sadness ran so deep, you didn’t have it in yourself to feel jealous anymore.

You just felt like a fool.

And you felt angry, at yourself and at him for being so horrible to you. Olivia’s giggles did nothing to make you feel less horrible, like nails on chalkboard her voice was irritating you in the worst way possible, so before leaving, you turned towards her and when she met your gaze with a fake smile, you matched the look on her face.

“Wouldn’t waste your time here, Olivia,” you said her name, mockingly and looked her up and down, not feeling jealous over the ugly sandals or the green skirt she was wearing. “He only flirts to pass time. Besides, isn’t that your boyfriend waiting for you?” You asked and tilted your head at the guy in front of the store, he was already glaring at Steve.

Olivia clenched her jaw and glared at you, huffing in annoyance which gave you a little satisfaction.

“Better not leave him waiting or someone might tell him what or who you do every Saturday night.”

Her pale face grew even… paler and you couldn’t even bite back the smirk, despite the blow that was just delivered to your heart.

Steve raised his eyebrows as he looked between you, he saw the way you blinked, fastly, he saw how glassy your eyes were despite the look on your face.

You turned back to him and looked at him with a straight face, “you usually don’t mind sharing your girls though, do you? So… go nuts,” you shrugged before you turned around and walked away from him, not planning to look back.

You should have, you should have looked back because then you would’ve seen the guilt in his eyes, the regret that crossed his features, the tension that slipped off his shoulders and the disinterest that took over for the girl in front of him. The sadness that flashed in his eyes for missing an opportunity, for letting you go like this.

But you didn’t, you kept going and you rushed back out into the bustling mall, you blinked away the tears and made your way back home. You tore the dress off your skin the moment you stepped into your room.

And you never wore it again.

You roll your eyes at yourself for feeling pain for the girl you were a year before, for still hurting because of the things he said to you, for the way he looked at you, for the way he flirted with a different girl in front of you.

The past doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t matter, especially not now, not anymore – not after what you have gone through together, not after he changed, not after he started treating you differently, not after all the nights and mornings you have spent with each other, not after all the gentle touches, not after the way he kissed you and held you close that one night, not after he called you late at night just to hear your voice.

He is different now, you are different now, you aren’t the teenagers you were a year back.

The past shouldn’t hurt.

You slam the closet door shut and walk out of your room and into the bathroom, you start the shower, letting the water warm up while you take off your clothes. You feel frustration bubbling inside of you, the conversation with Max and her encouraging words triggered all the memories that you refused to think about in these past few months.

The day at Scoops Ahoy made you sad and angry, it made you want to never see him again, you avoided the mall after that day and you didn’t see much of him after. You hated yourself for hoping, for going after your feelings, for believing that you could have a chance after Billy’s encouragement – Billy who pushed you away only a week later, with harsh words and a mean look on his face, he pushed you away when you needed him the most and you felt alone again, so alone. At that time, you didn’t understand why he did it, why he didn’t want you in his life anymore, you didn’t know that he was just trying to protect you from the upside down, from himself.

And then he died and you lost yourself completely.

You drowned your sorrows in alcohol and kissed the lips of strangers, you let them touch you in hopes that you would feel something, you woke up in their beds and hated yourself after because no matter how good they were to you, how nice the conversations went, how much they made you laugh, how nice they made you feel, they couldn’t make you forget about the friend you lost, they couldn’t make you forget about him, they couldn’t give you what you wanted, what you needed, what you longed for.

You searched for glimpses of Steve in every man you kissed and you hated yourself for it because you wondered why you even felt that way for someone who couldn’t even stand you, who hated you with all his being.

What made you fall in love with him?

What tied you to him the way it did?

Because he never gave you a reason to fall in love with him back then, he treated you unkindly from the moment you met and yet you couldn’t help your feelings, you couldn’t help but adore him, you couldn’t help but admire him.

You even felt your own heart break when you found out about what Nancy did to him, how she broke his heart so carelessly, how she cheated on him with her friend.

And you felt it break even more when he still wanted her, even after everything she did to him, he loved hard, just like you did, like you do. No matter what she did to him, he still loved her.

And now, you can’t help but ask yourself the question that you have always avoided.

Does he still have feelings for her?

You wonder if he still wants her, if he still wishes for a future with her, if she is still the one he craves by his side.

He doesn’t look at her the way he used to, not anymore, he doesn’t seem sad around her the way he did after she rejected him and yet, you still wonder, if you are just someone he passes time with while he hopes that she might change her mind in the future. If you are the person he finds comfort in because he can feel that you love him the way she never did.

Are you the replacement? The filler?

You feel yourself crashing, the water feels hot on your skin but you feel the shudder running down your spine, the goosebumps that rise on your skin make you shiver, your throat tightens and your eyes blur with tears as your heart clenches in your chest.

You wipe your tears in anger even though your whole face is wet from the water pouring down on you, you turn off the water and open the curtain in anger, you reach for your towel and wrap it around your body.

You wipe the fog off the mirror and look at your reflection, at the marks on your neck, at the tears running down your cheeks.

Are you stupid for crying when you knew exactly what you were signing up for?

You always knew what this was to him and you were satisfied with it because you just wanted him, no matter how, you wanted him and you got him.

But you can’t stop your heart from aching because somehow, you fell even harder for him and you can’t stop from hurting when you think about what you are to him and what you might never be.

Just sex.

A friend… nothing more than a friend, that’s what he said, you are just a friend.

The confidence that only started growing inside of you not too long ago begins to crumble and you don’t know how to stop it from falling apart.

You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and the thoughts that drive you mad. You take a look around, at the things he left in your bathroom, his toothbrush next to yours, his body wash and shampoo in your shower, his Farrah Fawcett hairspray that no one can know about.

Would all this be here if you didn’t mean something to him?

Would he have made space in one of his drawers just for your stuff if this meant nothing?

Would he have let you in if he still wanted someone else?

Does he even still want someone else?

You huff in annoyance for letting yourself fall into this spiral of overthinking. You feel as though all these questions come to haunt you for pushing them away all these weeks and now you feel a headache coming and you grow irritated with yourself and with your insecurities.

You shut them down as best as you can and busy yourself with other things, you moisturize your skin and blow dry your hair. You put on your fresh clothes and comb through your hair before you leave the bathroom, it’s much darker in the hallway than expected, the grayish clouds hide the sun and the sound of thunder rumbles in the far distance, drops of rain already paint your windows.

Goosebumps rise on your skin and an unsettling feeling sinks into the pit of your stomach. You feel the cold wind on your exposed skin from the open window in your bedroom, you make your way inside, pushing the blowing curtains away as you reach forward to shut the window.

Lightning surges through the sky, deep purple colors flash in the darkening clouds far away. You would’ve felt your heart dropping by now if you didn’t notice the burgundy car parked in your driveway, the door opens and he steps out, a second later, a brown paper bag in his hand and something tucked beneath his arm, he shuts the door and locks it, wasting no time to find shelter under the roof on your porch as it starts raining harder.

Instead of dropping, your heart skips a beat, forgetting all about the pain it just felt from the saddening thoughts in your mind.

Through all your overthinking and pondering, you forgot that he was coming over.

You shut the window and rush downstairs, opening the door as he rings the doorbell for a second time. A frown lingers on his face but it disappears when his eyes lock with yours as soon as you open the door and a smile tugs at his lips instead.

“Hey Blondie,” he breathes and rushes inside when you step aside to let him in, “looks like the end of the world out there.”

“Hi…”

You close the door and lock it before you turn around to face him.

Steve kicks off his shoes and throws the movie tapes that were tucked beneath his arm on the counter where you keep your keys and sunglasses, he puts his keys into the little bowl and then he steps towards you and reaches for your hand, he pulls you towards him and takes you by surprise when he leans down and smacks his lips against yours, kissing you shortly. Greeting you with a kiss, something he had never done before.

Your eyes widen a little and your throat tightens for a different reason now, you stare at him, unable to hide the surprised look on your face.

And Steve, he furrows his brows and his smile falls a little, not because of your widened eyes but because of the glassiness in them, he frowns as worry swirls in his chest.

“Hey,” he murmurs and lets go of your hand to cup the side of your face, letting his thumb linger on your cheek, “is everything okay?”

You blink.

Your heart jumps at his action, at the question, at the concern in his soft brown eyes. You breathe in deeply, you open and close your mouth a few times, unable to find the right words.

You didn’t cry all that much, it’s not so visible on your face, is it?

“Did something happen?” He asks, a little softer this time.

You shake your head, “n-no, I’m fine, just tired, I’m probably coming down with something…” You lie.

“In the summer?”

You force a smile and look down, shrugging, “guess I’m not that strong…”

“Well, then let me take care of you,” he whispers and caresses your cheek.

You wonder if he knows what he does to you with such words and actions, you sometimes wish he knew that your heart leaps every time he does such things, maybe then he would take pity on you and not fill you with so much hope, even in your worst moments.

You nod at him and let him take your hand back in his, he gives you a sweet smile that nearly makes you crumble.

“So how was your day?” Steve asks as he tugs you along with him and leads you into your kitchen.

You swallow the lump in your throat and shrug, “good, I went shopping with Max and then we ate lunch with Eddie.”

Steve smiles at that, he places the brown paper bag on the kitchen table and turns to face you.

The soft look in his eyes and the smile on his lips makes you feel guilty for the thoughts that rushed through your mind just moments before. This side of him is the only one you have known in the past few weeks, the gentle and sweet side you never thought you’d ever get to see.

“I got us dinner, burgers and fries but I got the fancy ones from Enzo’s,” he chuckles and lets go of your hand, stepping away from you and towards the sink. “Did you find anything?” He asks as he runs the water and uses the hand soap you always leave in your kitchen to wash his hands.

You furrow your brows at his question, feeling a little lost and confused.

“Hm?”

“When you went shopping.”

“Oh.” You nod your head, you went back to the jewelry store to look for new rings and the necklace you fell in love with but it was already gone, it would’ve looked pretty with the dress you picked out for Joyce’s and Hopper’s wedding. “Yeah, I finally got a dress for the wedding… oh and shoes… and makeup.”

Steve smiles fondly when he turns back to you, “what color is your dress?”

“Uh, it’s black,” you say and walk over to the fridge to grab a drink for you both, “sounds boring, right? But it’s really pretty and I got some pink heels to go with it.”

“It doesn’t sound boring,” he shakes his head at you and carries two plates to the kitchen table, “besides, you look gorgeous in anything.”

You freeze.

Your eyes grow wide and your cheeks start burning.

Gorgeous?

He surely never called you that before, especially not after greeting you with a kiss on your lips.

“T-Thanks, Steve.”

He hums in response and you look back at him to see him placing the food on the plates, putting more fries on yours than on his. His brows are pulled together in concentration, his lips pressed together, his hair looks a little messed up from the wind but he looks so cute like this.

And you can’t help but think of how intimate this all is, him kissing you after walking in, him asking you about your day and the color of your dress, him plating your dinner.

You can’t help but hate yourself for all the overthinking and reminiscing of the things that happened in the past.

You close the fridge with a sigh and make your way back to the table, placing the coke in front of his plate.

“Thanks, Honey.”

You give him a smile and sit down across from him, looking down at the delicious food in front of you, “I’m horrible, you always cook for us or order something and I never do anything.”

Steve shakes his head, glaring at you, “you’re not horrible and that’s not true, you cooked breakfast and dinner before.”

You pop open your soda can, “yeah, I made french toast and sandwiches.”

“Yeah and it was amazing, now shut up and eat your dinner, kid,” he says playfully, his eyes glinting with amusement when you laugh.

You push your hair out of your face and pick up the burger, unaware of the fond smile that tugs at his lips as he watches you take a bite. His eyes roam your face, your eyes are a little red and he can’t help but think that you lied to him about feeling sick, you look fine, you just look a little… sad and it makes him feel upset because he knows that you won’t talk about it, especially not with him but he wants to be there for you, he wants to give you a shoulder to cry on, to lean on, he wants to give you comfort.

He looks down at the shirt on your body and when he recognizes it, his eyes lighten up and warmth blooms in his chest, it’s his shirt.

He bites back the smile as he looks down and starts eating too, welcoming the comfortable silence between you as the rain paddles down the windows, the thunder still crashing somewhere, far away.

You flinch every time a loud crash booms through the sky, it’s nothing new to him, he noticed it the very first time it happened. Every time the sky turns a little darker and the wind picks up, you fidget and get anxious. He wonders if it’s a fear you have taken with you from the upside down or if it is something that accompanied you before, he never dared to ask before.

Every time he showed up during a storm, your eyes were filled with fear and your hands were shaking. You would relax and calm down a few minutes after his arrival, his presence seems comforting to you and it’s why he rushes to get to you every time he sees the dark clouds and hears the thunder.

“Hey Blondie?”

You look up at him through your lashes and raise your eyebrows, “yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

You put down your burger and reach for your drink, nodding at him.

“Have you always been afraid of storms?”

You seem to be taken aback as you stare at him and blink, not moving or saying anything just yet and he fears that he crossed a line.

“I just, I noticed that you flinch at every crash.”

You always tried to hide your reactions, not wanting to seem scared or weak, and usually no one ever noticed things about you that you didn’t want them to see but Steve seems to see right through you.

His hazel eyes aren’t filled with judgment or amusement, just with curiosity and… a hint of concern?

You take a sip of your drink and sit back, relaxing your shoulders as you look into his eyes.

“Yeah, I just, I guess it got stuck with me from when I was a kid,” you chuckle and roll your eyes, “I know, embarrassing right?”

He shakes his head and frowns, “no, not at all.”

“Honestly, it wasn’t even that bad when I was a kid, it got worse when I was a teen. My parents would go on these business trips sometimes and trusted my sister to look after me but she used those opportunities to go hang out with friends or go to parties or whatever else she was doing,” you explain, not looking away from him, “and I hated being alone, it probably didn’t help that I watched horror movies every time I was alone.”

Steve chuckles at that, though he can’t help but feel sad for you.

His parents left too, hell, they still do. To know that you were in a similar situation as him when you were younger fills him with regret, knowing that he could have been there for you and you for him, if he just wasn’t such a dick to you.

“I just always got so anxious whenever I heard the howling wind and the loud thunder, it felt like the fear paralyzed me in a way… I don’t know, does that even make sense?”

Steve nods, “yeah, yeah it makes sense.”

But now he wonders how the hell you jumped into the water to save him, after everything that you had been told about the upside down, about the storms, about the monsters, you still jumped into the water when he was pulled under. You knew what was waiting for you on the other side and you still did it.

“B-But how… I… the upside down was filled with storms?”

You would’ve jumped into a hurricane if it meant saving his life.

“I wasn’t going to prioritize my fears over your life, Steve.”

Steve feels a little stunned, he knows how paralyzing fears can get, how they can hold you back from everything, but you, you didn’t care about your fears, about yourself, knowing that it could’ve ended badly for you down there, you cared more for him than you did for yourself, even when he was nothing but an asshole to you who treated you like shit.

If he knew you, the real you, he wouldn’t have been so harsh to you, he wouldn’t have been so… cold. He would have never said a single bad word to you but he thought you were cruel and he thought you hated him so he gave you a side of him that didn’t even exist, it was an act, nothing more, nothing less and he regrets it more than anything.

He regrets every word he said to you before this. And he feels as though he doesn’t deserve this, you, not even in this way, not after everything he said to you and about you.

He wants nothing more than to take it all back, to make it up to you.

And as you sit there in front of him, with red rimmed eyes that prove that you have cried before he came here, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms and apologize, over and over again.

But instead of doing that and risking making you uncomfortable, he slides his plate closer to you and changes seats so he is right next to you, he ignores the confused look you give him and the question you were gonna ask before he grabs your face and kisses you, making you gasp in surprise.

You melt into the kiss quickly, despite the confusion that lingers in you. You place your palm on the side of his neck and kiss him back softly.

And just like that, your worries and your anxious thoughts fade away into nothing, his touch, his kisses, he makes you forget about all the sadness that gnawed at you before, for a moment, they don’t matter and they won’t be back till later.

For a moment, you’re allowed to feel hopeful and confident again.

When his hand finds your waist and his lips move slowly and softly with yours, when he hums into the kiss and pulls you closer, when he makes you feel special.

Steve’s eyelashes flutter when he pulls away and opens his eyes again, smiling softly as he pecks your lips once more before he moves back, like he didn’t just steal your breath and made your heart pound wildly.

“What was that for?” You breathe.

“To calm you down from the storm,” he shrugs, chuckling at his own words.

“Why do you think a kiss would calm me down?”

“I don’t know, I read it in a magazine,” he lies and looks down at his food with rosy cheeks and a sheepish smile.

A giggle falls from your lips.

“Right,” he nods and points a finger at you, still smiling, “it’s scientifically proven that kisses help with the distraction.”

“Mhmm,” you hum and nod, “right, totally yeah.”

Instead of tears, you’re biting back a smile now, falling right back into the state you are always in when you’re around him – into bliss.

You continue eating and you ask him about his day, you push your plate towards him, sharing your fries with him once he practically inhales the ones on his plate. He keeps on talking, the whole time you sit at the kitchen table you ate your meals alone at, he tells you all the gossip he’s heard from Robin, keeping you entertained and making you giggle, making you forget about the raging storm behind you or the pain you felt before, he makes you forget about everything.

And you thought this would be like any other night you spent with him.

But it wasn’t.

Steve didn’t sleep with you that night, and you didn’t initiate it either. The storm was at full blast over your house, and Steve made sure to have the TV at full volume when watching the movies he stole. He mentioned Keith was busy trying to talk to a female customer and he didn’t even look at Steve when he shoved them down his shirt.

You laughed with him, giggled, and – are you the replacement? Are you really? Or are you actually in his heart?

The past tells you that you are the filler for the holes in his heart, but the present– the present tells you otherwise. It tells you that there might be a chance. His smile tells you that he likes spending time with you. The frown over his eyes when something happens to you tells you he is worried for you. The way he is possessive over you tells you that he considers you his.

Is it foolish to believe in the present? Is it foolish to simply forget about the past? Is it foolish you cannot and won’t let go of him? Is it foolish to simply love him, with no reason at all?

And you just know… that Billy never once said it was.

Billy who wouldn’t want you to give up. Billy who wouldn’t want you to go back into the past. Billy who would want you to keep living in the present. Billy who would still encourage you if he were here. Billy who helped you pick that dress at the GAP to shoot your shot that day at Scoops.

Billy never gave up on your love for Steve.

You shouldn’t either.

And you won’t.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars @moon-flowerrs

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #dwoht — chapter nineteen #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst

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justbreakonme · 1 year ago

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Signs of Change

Whumpee didn’t like it, when the seasons started to change. It still made him uneasy, knowing just how cold the nights could get and just how precarious his position could be. He was only safe as long as he was good, and the outdoors had no mercy.

But Caretaker did.

“Hey, Whumpee, why don’t you come in here? It’s warmer, since the stove’s going.” Caretaker’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he obeyed.

When he rounded the corner into the kitchen, the warmth enveloped him immediately. There was a large, silver soup pot boiling away on the stove, and the smell of onion and garlic and herbs and all sorts of things instantly made his mouth water.

“It needs to simmer for a bit longer, I think. Do you want to come sit with me?”

Whumpee nodded, and took a seat where he always did, across from Caretaker at the old wooden table.

“Not a talking day, huh?”

He shook his head, rubbing a fist in a circle over his chest.

Sorry.

“It’s fine, you’re good. I just like to check-in so I know.”

Whumpee couldn’t ever explain why sometimes words just, failed him. But, after his old owner, after being silent for so long, he sometimes felt…stuck.

“Do you feel like playing cards? I think we have enough time for a round of war…”

Whumpee nodded, dutifully turning to grab the cards from the little shelf in the corner. He liked cards. War was the first game they had played together, back when he’d first been bought rescued.

Caretaker had made it very clear that he wasn’t owned, anymore.

But he hoped maybe, maybe if he was really, really good, he could be. He had tried, once, to ask what he could do, if anything, to earn being owned again, but, the words had died in his mouth and he’d gone silent for days.

He understood why they didn’t want to own him, he wasn’t really worth very much. But, sometimes, he let himself believe that between him trying his very hardest and Caretakers inexplicable mercy, there might be a chance. Someday.

Caretaker handed him a stack of cards, and he brought the tips of his fingers to his chin, hand open and palm towards himself, then moved his hand out in front of him, almost in a swinging motion.

Thank you.

“You’re welcome.” Caretaker smiles as they play their first card, and he follows suit.

The game goes by quickly, and soon, the oven timer went off, making them both jump.

“Here, we’ll just scoot these over a bit and we can play while we eat. Would you grab the spoons?”

He nodded, carefully moving his pile of cards to the side and heading for the silverware drawer.

As Caretaker ladled out the soup, he placed a spoon at each of their spots, then, unsure if he should sit or wait for the next task, he hovered between the drawer and the table, wringing his hands.

As they turned to grab the bowls, they noticed his hesitation. “Go ahead and sit, I’ll bring the bowls over.”

Another tap-then-outward gesture of thanks, and he sat back down, watching as they carefully ladled out two bowls of steaming soup.

Carefully, they carried one bowl at a time to the table, oven mitts on.

“Ooh- don’t try to hold it, it’s super hot.” Caretaker dodged where Whumpee had tried to help set the bowl down, instead opting to set it down on the edge and scoot it over so it didn’t spill.

He rubbed his fist over his chest in a circle again, more frantic this time.

Sorry, sorry!

“You’re good, I just didn’t want you to burn yourself,” they returned to the table with their own bowl, tossing the oven mitts onto the spare chair after settling in, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

He tried to mimic Caretaker, who was blowing gently on their soup, but the lump in his throat got in the way.

He wished, as he often did, that he could speak without speaking, in more ways than literally. He wished he could make them know things.

If he was patient and waited for his voice to return, or if he went to get one of the whiteboards Caretaker kept laying around for him, he could tell him that he would do anything for them. That they had his loyalty and devotion, his mind, body, and soul.

But he couldn’t make them know it the way he did. It snuck up on him, in moments like these, then hit like a tsunami.

His stillness must have caught their attention because they looked up. “You okay?”

He nodded, swallowing hard and smiling, then gave a timid thumbs up.

You don’t own me, but, I belong to you.

They grinned, giving him a thumbs up back, and another tsunami took his breath away.

But, that was fine. He’d let the soup cool on its own, and they would play cards, and for the first time in a very long while, he was able to forget the changing seasons and the morning frost.

It couldn’t touch him here.

Caretaker wouldn’t let it.

#non verbal whumpee #occasionally non verbal whumpee #???#if there’s a better tag please let me know #whump #whump writing #caretaker #whumpee #comfort #whump scenario #pet whump #deconditioning #whump comfort #whumpee wanting to be owned #rescue

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futfemfantasies · 1 year ago

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Personal Chef ~ Fridolina Rolfö x reader

Prompt 25. Reader cooking for _______ for the first time and it’s really good.

I kinda changed it but enjoy this cute Rolfo fluff :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Juggling the shopping bags in your arms, the key finally turns and the door to Frido's apartment opens. When you two got close at Barca before you started dating, you swapped spare keys in case anything happened to the other person. That was now working in your favour as you are planning to surprise your girlfriend of a year.

Since your love had to stay back at training for media duties, you jumped at the chance. Setting the wide variety of food on the bench, you start to get out the utensils and equipment you need. You start by cutting an onion, and that was your first mistake. The waterworks began and you started chopping anywhere, not caring about the size of the pieces. You fry that off with some garlic, creating a wonderful aroma throughout the apartment.

Meanwhile, Frido opens her front door and instantly is hit with the garlic-onion combo. She stands their confused for a moment, trying to remember if she cooked before leaving this morning. Kicking off her trainers and throwing her bag down, she rounds the corner to see you at the stove. Frido sneaks up behind you and wraps her arms tightly around your waist, causing you to slightly jump. Light kisses are left on your cheek trailing down to your neck, causing your breath to hike.

"What a beautiful sight to see when I come home"

"I wanted to surprise you with dinner, since we haven't spent time together except at Barca"

Frido kisses you quickly as you were still cooking and she didn't want anything to burn.

"Can I help with anything älskling?"

"Just sit there and look pretty"

Frido frowns but follows your orders. 20 minutes later, the creamy chicken and rice dish is complete. You take both plates to the table and Frido pulls out your chair. A kiss on the cheek as a thank you and you both start dinner. Conversation topics get thrown about including the upcoming international break that sees you back home to Australia and Frido to Sweden.

"Babe this dish is to die for, I could marry you!"

You start coughing loudly as you both have talked about what the future holds. You just didn’t know Frido was ready now. All you know is that you want Frido with you. Frido gets up and comforts you until you settle down.

"Y-you want to marry me?"

"I have darling, ever since I met you"

Frido takes your hand and pulls you over to the couch where you both cuddle into each other. Since Frido is behind you, you look up to her and kiss her jaw ever so gently.

"I can't wait to marry you mi amor"

#womens soccer #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso imagines #fcb femeni #fridolina rolfo x reader

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teaaleefs · 1 year ago

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Second Best - K. Bakugou

word count: 1746

pairing: 3rdyear!Bakugou x nb!reader

cw and notes: might be ooc because i’ve literally never written this guy before Hurt/Comfort, Cussing it’s bakugou idk what you expected. Soft bakugou, Hopefully i did it right tho- comparing yourself to others, jealousy, envy, low self esteem, pet names (baby), unedited asf good luck reading it because i certainly didn't, good ending :)

synopsis: you can't stop comparing yourself to your boyfriend and one day it just gets to you

Always second best. That’s what you were.

Second best to Katsuki since… Well, always. Your boyfriend always strove to be number one, always strove for perfection in everything. He was number one in class, the most promising student in class 1-A despite his rough and brash personality. But even then, he was the best at everything. Even things you told yourself you were good at.

Cooking? He could make your mom’s recipe almost exactly the same way she did, always fine tuning the details. But you? You always changed something up, always forgot a step. Too much salt, too little garlic, not enough pepper, forgot the vegetables… and despite being with him for some time - for nearly 3 years now - during your time in UA, you grew almost resentful.

At first you felt guilty, because why would you ever compare yourself to him? Why should you be upset that he’s doing well for himself? But the thought that you were always falling behind, always miles behind and him miles ahead, it bubbled up jealousy. You never acknowledged it when you were around him. You always acted normal, acted the same. Had your usual spats and squabbles with him, had your small dates with him and exchanged vulnerable words. But the feeling kept gnawing at you. Especially during finals, always during finals or big exams. You both would work your asses off. Hell, he even helped you to study the majority of the time.

Still, everytime you found that he was just better. Better at everything. Better with his quirk, better at studying, better at retaining information, better at testing, better at cooking your mother’s damn soup, better at planning dates, taking you out, getting gifts, better, better, better.

It left you upset late at night most times. Whenever you weren’t sleeping in his room your mind would whir with ways for you to improve - for you to catch up. And even when you were sleeping in his room, when he was already asleep you would still find yourself comparing and comparing and wishing you could just be better at one thing. Anything, just one thing.

Sometimes it made heat rise to your face when you would have these thoughts while looking over his sleeping form. His chest rose and fell with soft breaths while your eyes stung and burned and you tried to blink back your jealousy. Usually blinking them back and telling yourself to get over it did the trick. But one night it just didn’t. And you ended up wiping your eyes and turning away from him, settling into the pillow beneath your head and forcing yourself to fall asleep.

But this night wasn’t like the others and no matter what you just couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. Your eyes kept flooding full of tears just for you to keep wiping them away, just for you to keep quietly sniffling and hiccupping and for your mind to keep milling over your jealousy and underlying disappointment with yourself because it honestly wasn’t fair! You were trying just as hard as he was, but he was always more driven, always more something and tonight you couldn’t take it anymore.

He heard you before he saw you. Back turned to him, quiet sniffles filling the otherwise silent room save for the sound of the fan. Scooting closer to you, he wrapped his arms around your waist. He knew better than to ask - he knew you weren’t the type to say it outright.

“Oi, what’s wrong with you?” He asked anyway, his gruff voice having gone soft. It didn’t hold its usual snark or aggression, only a hint of the underlying concern he actually felt. When you didn’t answer, he sighed and held you tighter, letting his forehead rest against your shoulder.

You could feel light kisses brushing against your skin, murmured words of comfort that he normally wouldn’t utter. See, he was even better than you at comforting his loved ones. All you usually managed was an ‘it’ll be okay’ or a hug, feeling too awkward when it came to making others feel better. Your throat tightened as did your chest, the heel of your palms pressing against your eyes as you tried to will yourself to stop crying over nothing. To stop being a baby and a jealous little shit. There was no reason to cry from an outside standpoint. But here you were, silently balling your eyes out for no reason (that’s what you thought Katsuki might be thinking at least).

“It’s not fair.” You managed to choke out, words mumbled and muffled between a sharp intake of air.

His hands rubbed soothing circles against your skin, his hold on you never faltering, but his lips stopped their soft brushes against your shoulder. “What’s not fair?”

You fell silent again. Should you tell him? But that would be selfish, what if it caused him problems? No, realistically, he would hold back for no one. Not even you. but what if he decided that you were being dramatic? What if this lead to one of your usual tiffs over nothing? What if you really were just being a crybaby? What if, what if, what if he’s too good for you?

One of his hands abandoned your waist in favor of caressing your hair, rough fingers running through the strands all the way down, down, down to your neck and then back up again to the top in a calming fluid motion. “Breathe, baby. I can feel you tensing up.” He murmured against your ear, his rough voice growing increasingly softer.

You stiffened for a moment. You hadn’t even realized you were taking in shallow breaths, but now you were hyper aware of your breathing and how tight your chest felt. Nodding to show that you heard him, you drank in slow, deep breaths, holding them for a few seconds before releasing them.

You could hear him shifting behind you, both of his hands moving to cup your face. You could sense him hovering over you even as your hands stayed pressed to your eyes. You could feel the feather light kiss he pressed to your cheek and how quietly he asked you to move your hands. When you didn’t immediately comply, he gently encased his hands around your wrists, pulling your hands away himself.

Through bleary and wet eyes, you could make out the crease between his brows, his expression hardened into displeasure as he released your wrists. His displeasure wasn’t directed at you - never at you when you were like this.

He brushed the corner of your eyes free of tears with each thumb before pulling away. Settling back onto the bed and laying on his side, his warm hand brushed from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you towards his chest. You let out a breath before you finally let yourself cry without holding it back; without the sniffling and bit back and choked sobs.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He asked as he held you tight, chin resting atop your head.

You swallowed thickly, not wanting to tell him that you were crying because of him. It wouldn’t be fair and you had convinced yourself you were being childish. He let silence fall between you two, not wanting to push anymore when it was obvious that you weren’t going to say.

But that was fine. He was fine with just holding you tight and grazing his lips on your forehead. He held you for a while after that, murmuring sweet words into your ear, rubbing your back and hair and telling you that everything was okay, meanwhile you just couldn’t stop for the life of you comparing and wondering about how he’d react if you told him why you were crying.

Until eventually, you broke it down to him, blubbered and mumbled and choked words of explanation finally tumbling from your trembling lips. You told him about your jealousy, about the comparisons, how you felt he was miles ahead and you constantly fighting for a way to at least catch up. How he was just better, how you thought you were being silly and dramatic and that “there was no reason” for you to be crying like this - breaking down over this. How he felt out of your league, how he was just too good for you. But as soon as he heard you tell him all that he fell silent and that made your stomach drop. Was he silently agreeing with you? Did he also think you were being a crybaby? Childish? Dramatic–

He held you so tight you thought your bones might break. His head buried in the space between your neck and shoulder, he scolded you.

“Don’t fucking say shit like that.” He rasped, voice barely above a whisper, “There’s no way I’m out of your league. If I was, I wouldn't have dated you in the first place.” His words were honest and straightforward, blunt but needed. “Baby, you’re fine the way you are. Stop comparing yourself to me, it’s unfair to yourself.” He said before pressing the softest kiss to the corner of your eye, kissing away your plump tears. “We’re different people, of course things are gonna come differently to each of us.” He soothed as he pulled away to kiss the corner of your other eye. “There’s a lot of shit that you're better at than me, so give yourself some credit, baby.”

You managed a few soft noises of acknowledgement and muffled “okay’s”, taking in a few heaving breaths as you worked to calm down. He didn’t stop holding you, he didn’t stop muttering comforts to try and quiet your tears, didn’t stop telling you all the ways you had one upped him, even in the smallest of ways. He tried to show you that you had your own accomplishments, that even he couldn’t do it all - and that was the thing absolutely hated to admit, but he did it for you.

He didn’t stop holding you, his calloused fingers tracing soft patterns against your arm, not even as your breathing regulated and you sniffed here and there. Not even when you fell asleep against his chest, your fingers clutching onto his shirt in an attempt to keep him there. Not that he was moving anytime soon. He didn’t even let you go when he fell asleep too, his arms falling slack around you, but still there. Still resting against your waist, his legs tangled with yours and his face buried against your shoulder.

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psychedelic-ink · 2 years ago

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𝐑𝐮𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 3.4k

chapter summary: You have dinner with Joel and Sarah. Tommy has a preposition that starts the process of healing.

warnings: mostly fluff with a hint of hurt/comfort, mentions of grief

a/n: I should've just called this chapter "I wanna hangout with the millers" Also thank you to all who showed interest in the series, I'm really excited about this one 💜

Chapter One || Chapter Three

Joel sits at the head of the table. There’s a navy blue napkin between his fingers, his eyes continuously darting to the kitchen. The napkin is subjected to his fidgeting, twisted, tugged, and torn, the remnants scattering across the table like confetti. You can’t stop staring. Your own fingers, too, betray your nerves, as you nervously trace the contours of the fork, its smooth surface a pleasant chill against your burning fingertips.

The only noise that occupies the silence is the clatter of dishes and the sizzling of meat. Your eyes move from Joel’s fingers to Sarah in the kitchen. Your gaze drifts from Joel's fingers to Sarah in the kitchen, where she hums a melody unknown to you, her head bobbing in time with the tune, her wild curls escaping the confines of her hair tie. She seems at peace. Which is in complete contrast to what you and Joel are feeling right now.

It's a mystery to you, this strange dynamic between you and Joel. You're neighbors, you see his brother and daughter nearly every day, yet when the two of you are alone together, which is a rarity in itself, words seem to fail you both, as if they've become adversaries instead of a means of communication. It leaves you to question why it is that you both seem to struggle when in each other's presence.

Taking a deep breath, the lingering garlic and tomato scent filling your lungs, you call out to her, “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“I’m sure,” she answers without looking up. “I’m almost done anyway. Just soaking the buns in the sauce,”

Buns…in the sauce?

When you turn to Joel, he’s already looking at you. His lips turn up, arms crossing over his broad chest. He beats you to it before you can voice out the question echoing in your head, “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

The effect his voice has on you is instant. It’s playful, soft, a barely there cool wave of the sea. A ghost of a shiver licks your spine, forcing you to sit straighter. You both relax and tense that you’re finally talking. You swallow, look down at your plate, then wet your lips.

“As long as there aren’t any mushrooms we’re good,”

He cocks an eyebrow and scratches his beard, “Now, what kinda person doesn’t like mushrooms?”

You blow a raspberry into the air which makes him grin. With a dramatic flail, you raise your hands to the air and tilt your head back. “Everywhere I go it’s the same. When will this judgment end?” You call out to an invisible god.

Joel laughs.

He laughs.

And it feels so fucking good to hear the sound. You’re pretty sure this is the first time he openly laughed next to you. Not a polite giggle, or a stifled chuckle. But a full-on, chest-vibrating laugh. It feels good. Sure maybe you didn’t paint anything today, again, but you made the neighbor that you thought hated you laugh. If that isn’t a win you don’t know what is. Your own smile blossoms on your lips. It’s a small one. However, you think it sends the point across that you’re happy to be here.

His hands fall to his thighs, hidden underneath the tablecloth. “Maybe me and Tommy can change your mind. Our grilled mushrooms are to die for,”

“Good luck with that,” you tease. “I’ve been hating them since the day I was born,”

As soon as you finish, Sarah places a large plate of burgers down the middle. They aren’t really big, maybe a bit bigger than your hand. Just like Sarah said, they’re covered in sauce. But the smell is to die for; meaty, garlicky with a hint of spice. She plops down to the spot right across from you.

“Hating what?” she asks as Joel reaches out and places two burgers on her plate then two on yours. He takes four. “Because if it’s fish I agree,”

“Fish?” you balk at her. “You don’t like fish?”

Joel snorts, “Don’t act like her’s is sacrilegious when you don’t like mushrooms,”

Sarah’s eyes go wide, eyebrows reaching all the way to her hairline, “You don’t like mushrooms?”

“Okay, I did not come here to be judged for my food dislikes,” you silence them both with a light-hearted click of your tongue. Father and daughter look at each other, smiling. “So what are we eating?”

“Wet burgers,” Sarah perks with excitement. “The buns are dipped in a garlicky tomato sauce and there’s just a beef patty in the middle. They’re really good.”

Joel nods and picks up a burger with one hand. He addresses you without looking, “I wasn’t sure about it either, but the darn things actually taste decent,”

“You should never doubt my cooking skills,” Sarah answers and stick her tongue out. You let out a hushed giggle.

“Darlin’ I pick out eggshells from my breakfast every mornin’”

“The eggs you buy are faulty.”

“You guys should join me for breakfast,” you cut in, raising the burger to your lips. Red sauce stains your fingers tips. “I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes,”

You don’t look, but you feel Joel’s eyes on you. The small hairs scattered over your arms raise, heat building under your skin. Ignoring it, you take a big bite of your burger.

You’re mad that it tastes so good—good enough that you moan, very loudly, and follow it up with another bite without even properly swallowing the first.

“Told you,” Joel grunts.

Sarah’s eyes sparkle. It’s such a beautiful display of emotion. The eyebrows move first, lifting at the same time her lips start to stretch from side to side. The happiness always hits the eyes last. It’s also the place where emotion lingers the most. Long after it drains away from the rest of the features.

The happiness that Sarah feels is so vivid there that it almost sparks something within you. A faint image of a girl appears in your mind. A girl similar to Sarah sitting in front of a window closed in with climbing roses, only bits of light shining over her skin—

The image fades as quickly as it appeared. You chew thoughtfully, a sting settling behind your eyelids.

“You like it?” she asks. You nod and she turns to Joel with a smug grin. “See, people like what I cook. I should be a chef,”

“I never said the burgers taste bad.”

You chuckle, taking another bite.

“Cut the girl some slack. It’s harder to function in the mornings.”

Despite your protests, Joel is set on walking you home.

You tell him that it’s only two steps away, he doesn’t listen and shakes his head, “If it’s such a short distance it shouldn’t be a problem to walk it with you.”

You’re holding the doggy bag Sarah prepared for you. It rustles in the wind, the burgers still radiating a bit of heat, it makes your skin come alive where it brushes against. The pleasant conversation that seemed to flow effortlessly with Sarah present is nowhere to be found. You dared to open your mouth a total of two times but not a single syllable followed through.

So instead of forcing it, you focus on the pleasant ambiance; the soft wind that feels like velvet on your skin, the soft blades of grass that tickle your bare ankles, and the moon that pours from the heavens. All of it combined to form the perfect night.

You cheat a glance at Joel, his hands are in his pockets, one cheek hallowed out, a clear sign that he’s gnawing at it from the inside. He’s a perfect canvas for the raining moonlight. Dark hair, dark eyebrows, dark eyes. His skin glows in a hue that you can only describe as angelic, the fading scars more vivid in color.

You stare longer than you realize. He steals a glance and clears his throat.

You notice that he’d stopped walking, and your body had too, just by instinct.

“We’re here,” he says, voice thick with an emotion you can’t place.

“So we are,” you answer dumbly, forcing your eyes to move to the door. Recollection hits when you see the two chairs on the porch. You turn back to Joel. “Do you want to sit with me for a while?”

He blinks, brows pinching together in confusion. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh no, sorry I should’ve made that clear. I just remembered that when I first moved in I asked if I could ask you questions about my grandfather then never did,” your eyes drop to the ground. Your chest feels tight and uncomfortable. “I guess I never had the chance to ask you before. But we don’t have to now.”

Joel isn’t the type of man to feel regret. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling it right this second.

His hand touches your shoulder. A brush of fingertips that takes you by surprise and makes you flinch. Joel recoils quickly, fingers curling into his palm as he pulls away.

“We can sit,” he says. “I have time.”

You observe the stars and the moon. Something you used to do frequently with your grandfather whenever you stayed over.

Something must be wrong with you because you don't remember the last time.

You take a series of deep breaths. Collecting your thoughts and preparing yourself to ask Joel what you wanted to ask. You know what your first question is going to be. It scares you to actually go through with it. The minutes tick by. The night grows darker, the stars brighter. But he doesn’t rush you. He doesn’t say a word. He looks up to the sky with you, dark brown flicking from star to star. When you look at him you can see the sky directly reflected in his eyes. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Was he happy?” you finally ask. Your voice sounds scratchy to your own ears. Joel leans back into his chair, fingertips digging into his palm enough so that he feels the sting of blunt nails. He swallows thickly before turning to you.

“He was,” he answers. “He talked an awful lot about you and your brother. He was proud of you,”

You laugh at that, it’s a sudden voice that booms from your chest. Unexpected, and jarring in the silence of the night, “Not so much my brother?”

“Let’s say he ain’t a fan of the choices he made. Not a fan of the military that one,” a small smile peeks underneath his mustache. “He did still love him though. You can tell him that if he asks,”

You nod, eyes once again tracing over every star in the sky, “Noted.”

Comfortable silence envelopes you both. Joel makes no move to get up and return home. His words had doused the fear that lingered deep in your heart.

He was happy. In his last days, he was still talking, complaining about your brother, and saying that he was proud of you. You’re sure you have more questions but all of them seem to slip your mind for now. He was happy. That’s all you need to know.

“Hey,” you hear him call out, voice a rough whisper. “Are you okay?”

Without looking away from the sky, you raise your hand to your face, fingertips touching the wet streaks going down your cheeks. Your hand drops to your mouth, the salt stings your chapped lips. You close your eyes and take deep breaths. You should be done crying.

But then why is your throat swelling? The simple act of breathing becomes harder and harder.

When you open your eyes he’s there, kneeling, one leg tucked under him with the other firm on the ground. His fingers brush a line down your forearms, goosebumps rising in their wake.

“Do you need me to get you anything?” he asks, his eyes looking rounder than ever. “We can talk about it if you need to darlin’. All I want you to do is say something to me so you calm down okay?”

You nod, and his fingers tighten around your wrist, “Words. Please.”

“I’m—I’m good,” your voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. You wet your lips and try again. “I’m good. Sorry, I was actually happy. I don’t know what came over me,”

“You’re still grievin’. And I doubt anyone with a heart would expect you to apologize for that. Do you need anythin’?”

You shake your head and Joel stands up, the warmth of his hand going away with him. There’s a brief pause where you don’t know what to do. Your eyes are still wet. Chest tight. You follow the way he moves; taking a step back and rubbing the corner of his jaw with the pad of his thumb. The sudden mood change disorientates you. He’s anxious. The hand that touched you, twitching like it’s been burned.

“I think you need some sleep,” he says, taking a step down backward. “If anythin’ happens call me—or Tommy,”

Tommy.

The uttered name feels like a slap to the face, a rekindling of a feeling that makes you feel small. A complete mess.

Of course, Joel doesn’t want to deal with all your shit. He’s just being nice that’s all. He already has his fair share of baggage, he doesn’t need yours to stack over it as well. You understand. And to a degree you’re grateful. It had been a lovely evening, one that would make you smile upon remembering. In the end, he’s giving you the comfort of knowing that you can call him—as a last resort.

Standing up, you smile. He’s about to hug you good night, you can tell by the way his body leans forward, arms starting to stretch from both sides. But you stop him by extending a quick hand.

“Goodnight,” you say. His eyes drop to your hand, confusion stirs in his eyes. A soft sigh part his lips and he closes his eyes, taking your hand into his.

“Goodnight, neighbor.”

You stand behind the counter, wiping down the counters with a damp rag as the last of the customers filter out of the shop. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the air, mixing with the scent of baked goods from earlier in the day.

Beside you, Olivia moves with an easy grace as she washes the final dishes of the night. Her hair, thinly braided and made into two separate low ponytails, falls in loose waves around her shoulders. Her dark skin glows in the dim light of the shop, and her hazel eyes sparkle with amusement as she catches your eye.

“You have someone waiting for you,”

Your brows furrow as you follow her gaze. There’s a matte grey truck out and inside you see Tommy, thumbs impatiently drumming against the steering wheel. You hold your gaze, he peers inside the coffee shop, he waves and you wave back, then you hold one finger up signaling him that he’ll have to wait a bit.

“You should go,” Olivia says. “I’ll close up,”

You raise an eyebrow, not really willing to leave your only friend alone to clean up after you, “You sure?”

“Yeah yeah,” he waves you off, glossy lips stretching into a full grin. “Tell your boyfriend I say hi,”

“Liv…he’s not my boyfriend,” you shake your head but you’re smiling. “He’s a friend. A good one,”

Olivia pouts and you let out a laugh as you untie your apron. “Why not? He’s cute,”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t—Also we’re still on for Saturday right?”

“You know it, babe.”

You head to the back of the shop to grab your bag. As you sling it over your shoulder, you make your way back to the front of the shop and bid Olivia farewell. Tomorrow is your day off so you’ll be seeing her Saturday. She waves to you and Tommy, who—in a state of slight confusion—waves back.

Outside, the warmth of the night envelops you, and you can feel sweat beads starting to form on your skin. You make your way over to Tommy's truck and he greets you with a grin as he leans over and opens the door for you.

“How was your day?” he asks, turning the key and filling the inside with a familiar hum. “I’ll save you the trouble of asking mine; It was shit and I don’t wanna talk about it. I just need food—you good for some fried chicken?”

“If you wanted me not to ask about it you shouldn’t have phrased it like that,” you grin, playfully punching his shoulder. “So what happened?”

Tommy sighs. He flattens his palm against the steering wheel and makes a turn. “Let’s just say that I fell into some very questionable fluids and Joel has pictures,” before you can say anything he adds. “Chicken?”

“Chicken sounds good,” you grin, turning your eyes ahead. “And I can’t wait to see those pictures,”

“Please don’t.”

You notice that something is off by the way Tommy’s fingers curl around the steering wheel. The truck shakes as you wait at a red light. Your eyes are fixated on it, burning your irises. “Are you okay?” he blurts, prompting you to pull away from the red light. A circle of blue forms right in the middle of your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Joel said that you cried last night. I probably shouldn’t say anythin’ but he mentioned it to me in good faith. And I’m worried,”

You internally coil into yourself. Your stomach rolls, hands on your lap forming tight fists. “You don’t need to be—”

The truck starts to move again and he raises a hand, silencing you. “I’m just tryin’ to say I might have an idea that might help. If you’re willing,”

“And what’s that?” you hate how closed off you sound but you can’t help it.

“You need to change the house up a bit,” he answers, he’s talking like he always does but for some reason it feels like he’s mocking you instead. “And I know that’s hard to hear, so, how about we start from a room? Just one room that’s all yours, new paint, new furniture, new things. I’ll help you build it,”

“I don’t want to trouble you,”

“If it was gonna be trouble I wouldn’t have offered it,” he scoffs, his eyes flitting between you and the road. “I’m off tomorrow so I can come by then. Sounds good?”

A soft smile breaches your lips, “Sounds great.”

Joel can’t stop thinking about her.

Her smile, her laughter. The feel of her skin under his fingertips. The way she looked at the stars. How the night sky came alive in her eyes. None of it he can ever forget. Her voice cracked when she spoke, her eyes sparkled under the white moon. It all felt like a movie to him. The tears. The heavy breathing. He calmed her down. She actually listened and allowed him to help.

His life wasn’t a movie though. Some stories didn’t have a happy ending—Some relationships are never meant to last— not even begin. His happy ending was Sarah. The moment she was born his life became a bright light that continuously blinds him.

She’ll have her happy ending too. Just not with him. Someone else, maybe his brother. At least he would still have you close then. He could still see you.

He wanted to hug her. Wrap his arms around her as an unrealistic promise to never let go. But she didn’t want that. He blamed the fact that she was still emotional, too raw to be touched. Some part of him wanted to believe that. He didn’t want to feel hurt by the offered handshake.

Joel swallows down the disappointment. A thick knot in his throat. He grabs his jacket. He’s about to leave and invite her over for dinner again when he hears Tommy’s truck pulling in.

He really shouldn’t but he goes to look out the window. She jumps out of the truck, almost tripping. Tommy’s laughter follows and he offers her his arm. She takes it, the two of them walking to the door. The sight angers him but he’s not sure why. A warm, boiling feeling rolling in his gut. It makes him feel dirty almost. As if he’d betrayed his brother. He hasn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Joel feels helpless as he hangs his coat back, heading to the living room. He falls to the couch, a heave to his chest.

Joel needs to stop thinking about her.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x ofc #joel miller #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #hbo the last of us #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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cobaltperun · 10 months ago

Text

Woe out the Storm (4) - Back in Black

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 3.6k

-I got nine lives, cat's eyes, abusin' every one of them and running wild-

Thing failed to find out who was the one disguising as Rowan, he did his best, but the imposter slipped into the crowd and Thing lost sight of them. So, you were kind of back to square one since Rowan was officially gone and the shapeshifter didn’t need to pretend they were him anymore. You could argue your situation got even worse, as you didn’t know who you could trust. Well, that hardly bothered Wednesday, because, as she said, she trusted no one anyway.

Well, that one stung.

That night you came back to your room to find Enid kneeling on the floor with her fists balled up and hitting the bed, sobbing hysterically. “Enid?! What happened?!” you ran up to her, You’ve never seen her this upset unless it had something to do with her mother. Even that was back when you met her! After the first Parents weekend she had!

“My life is over, Y/N!” she wailed as she turned and more or less just rammed into you with how hard she threw herself into your arms.

You gasped, the air knocked out of you, but you managed to rub circles into her back, hoping to soothe her at least a bit as her tears stained your shirt. You weren’t entirely comfortable with people crying on you, but you figured it would be fine. “We’ll figure things out, okay?”

It was terrifying how fast she flipped the switch and looked at you, hopeful and happy all of a sudden. Enid flipping between moods like that usually meant trouble for you. It made you dread her next words. “You’ll take Yoko’s place?! Thank you, Y/N!” she threw her arms around your neck and hugged you tightly. “You’re the best!”

You froze completely. Yoko’s place? The Poe Cup? The canoe race? The lake?! “No! Nope! No way! None of that!” you abruptly pushed Enid away and took several steps back. You were met with Enid’s eyes, all big, expressive and filled with tears, complete with a pout on her face. “None of those puppy eyes either! They won’t work on me on this!” you cried out pointed a finger at her, firmly maintain your position on this as your heart hammered against your chest at the mere thought of being close to that much water.

She bowed down her head and clasped her hands together. “Please! Y/N, my whole life depends on this!”

You blinked several times, unable to believe what you were hearing. “And my life depends on not doing it!” you exclaimed incredulously.

“Please?” she tried with extra puppy eyes, batting her eyelashes and damn near making crocodile tears fall from her eyes.

“Enid there’s water involved! Sorry I don’t feel like drowning!” you were not budging on this, no way. Not worth dying for. You were terrified of huge bodies of water, well, any water scared you, but anything even ten times as small as the lake was the stuff of nightmares!

Enid looked up, genuine tears once again filling her eyes. “You won’t drown!” Enid at least had the dignity to pause for a second before saying that. “No one drowned in the Poe Cup!”

“I will! I can’t swim!” you exclaimed just as the window opened and Wednesday came in. How did she even climb up to the window in the first place?

“Wednesday, help me convince her!” Enid searched for back up in the last person you figured she would. “She needs to take Yoko’s place!”

You covered your eyes with your left hand and groaned. Enid should have known better.

“Why?” Wednesday asked. She was actually humoring Enid’s request? Well, that was unexpected.

“Yoko had a garlic bread incident at the dinner, she had a major allergic reaction which means she’s out of the Poe Cup! And I don’t have a co-pilot because Y/N won’t take her place!” Enid declared accusingly pointing a finger at you.

“Of course I won’t! I can’t swim!” you repeated as you threw your hands down in frustration. This was pointless, you were not going to participate, and thus you were already turning around and making your way to your part of the room. You weren’t about to argue about this.

“You can’t swim?” Wednesday asked clearly puzzled by the lack of such a basic skill.

You turned back to look at her and just shrugged. “I feel excruciating pain and light up like a Christmas tree when too much rain falls on me. The hell do you think happens if I fall into a lake?” you nodded, seeing Wednesday piece it together. “Exactly. Look, if the only way I’m getting somewhere is by a boat, I’m not getting there, I don’t care if someone is about to kill everyone I care about, if I have to risk falling into any body of water they are on their own! It’s their fault for getting caught in the first place!” were you being way too dramatic? Absolutely. Were you serious? One hundred percent. Nothing could make you approach any bigger body of water. Especially not a school competition.

“Y/N!” Enid whined, desperately trying to fill up the co-pilot position on her team.

You turned to her and pointed a finger at her. “No, you hear me? It’s a simple two letter word. No!”

“Can’t you just zap to the shore if we start sinking?” was Enid actually trying to tell you a cup was the most important thing at the moment?

You felt your eye twitching you were going to get a headache at this rate, and all because Enid was being unreasonable about this. “I’m not even going to entertain that thought,” even if you weren’t scared of water there would be no containing the burst of lightning that would happen if you fell into the water. How couldn’t Enid see that your canoe sinking meant not only you drowning but likely her and everyone else in the water close to you?

“You and I are going to take her down tomorrow,” Wednesday suddenly said and while you were genuinely surprised you looked at the goth girl like she was your very own savior.

Besides, between you and Wednesday, all of you knew who was a better option for a no rules race against Bianca. Especially since Wednesday had a personal vendetta to settle.

“Wait, you’re joining the Black Cats?” Enid was just as surprised as you were. She got way to close into Wednesday’s personal space, prompting the girl to back away a step. “You’re willing to do that? For me?”

“I want to humiliate Bianca so badly that the bitter taste of defeat burns in her throat,” Wednesday said with a sense of finality you haven’t heard from her before.

“Somehow I’m not surprised,” you commented evenly, even if you were incredibly happy Enid would stop trying to get you to join the team.

“Yeah, but mostly you’re doing it because we’re friends, right?” Enid kind of got the wrong idea.

“Just let her have this,” you said to Wednesday and she glared at you. Well, at least it was just a regular glare and not a death glare.

Wednesday turned around, probably uncomfortable due to Enid’s infamous puppy eyes. “Tell me how she keeps winning,”

“It’s a real brain cramp. The past two years no other boat has made it across and back without sinking,” and Enid still wanted you in the boat. Despite knowing that. And knowing how you were with water.

“Sounds like sabotage,” Wednesday noticed, which granted, wasn’t a difficult conclusion to reach.

That got Enid thinking. “There are no rules in the Poe Cup, and she is a siren, which makes her master of the water.”

“Then we just need to beat her at her own game,” Wednesday decided.

Maybe you’d actually watch this time. In a tree, at least two hundred feet away from the lake. Away from all the water.

~X~

And you did watch, from the exact position you thought you would.

“Y/N! Come on! At least cheer from the stands!” Enid yelled up at you.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree Enid! This is as close as I’ll approach the lake!” you yelled back from your spot up in the tree. You had everything you needed, binoculars to watch the race, and a tiny version of the Black Cats’ flag stuck in the branch you were sitting on. As far as you were concerned this, roughly two hundred feet from the lake, was as close as you’d come.

You couldn’t exactly see it, but you were sure a Enid’s eye twitched at your behavior. “You’re being irrational!”

You were also safe from the water. “Exactly! Now let me be!” oh you understood full well just how irrational you were being. Understanding and acting in a way that would change that were, however, two entirely different things.

Enid groaned, threw her arms up in the air in frustration and stomped back to her team. You watched as the teams got into their boats and you felt nothing but dread at the mere thought of being in one of those. Water beneath you, water all around you and the boat very likely to be sunken the only thing keeping you alive. Well, you were sure Wednesday figured out a way to win, but if it was you you’d be a panicking mess that would barely be able to row.

You watched the race, flinching when an axe swung over Enid and Wednesday’s heads. Yup. Forget drowning, you’d be decapitated from how much you’d be panicking right there. You wouldn’t even have the mental capacity to duck.

That would be an embarrassing way to die.

Every time a boat sunk, regardless of who it belonged to, you looked away. Finally, after what felt like eternity, the only ones left were Enid and Wednesday’s team and Bianca’s team. You bit your lower lip as something seemed to push their boat away from Bianca’s. Enid would never forgive herself if she lost this close to victory and, somehow, you figured Wednesday wouldn’t be much different. Especially after what she said last night and the way Bianca defeated her in fencing in her first week here.

Somehow the pushing stopped, probably something Thing did because no one on the team moved and the Black Cats managed to catch up and make Bianca’s boat sink, thus, with being the only ones left, there was no doubt who won. “Hell yeah!” you cheered, pumping your fists up in the air so hard you nearly fell off the branch.

~X~

Somehow you couldn’t say you were surprised that almost the entire school cheered for Ophelia Hall’s victory. Well, from what you could see it was more for Bianca’s loss, but still, you doubted Enid, who was soaking up all the attention and smiling back at the students, was complaining.

Wednesday didn’t look so pleased. In fact, she looked like she was in an ever worse mood than she usually was. She looked uncomfortable actually, now that you took a closer look. Finally, it looked like she reached the breaking point and left the crowd.

You gave her a minute and then went after her. You could understand on some level that she felt uncomfortable given the situation. You didn’t expect to find her sitting on the ground, leaning back against the Edgar Allan Poe’s statue. She looked a bit distraught, and you realized just how uncomfortable she was with everyone looking and smiling at her. She needed to get away from the crowd and for a moment you considered leaving her alone, but she likely already noticed you, so there was no going back.

“Overwhelmed?” you approached her carefully, ready to leave at the smallest sign she didn’t want you there.

“Unsettled,” she corrected you and opened her eyes to look at you, but otherwise didn’t show any negative reactions to your presence. You still let your eyes turn red to make it clear it really was you.

You nodded at that, smiling just a bit at her and motioning to a spot half a dozen feet away from her. “Do you mind if I sit with you? I’ll leave if you do, you just need to say a word.”

Wednesday watched you for a few moments. “I don’t mind,” she eventually replied, so you sat there, as silent as she was. Maybe it was because she didn’t mind you were a raiju, or maybe there was just something about her, but you felt at peace around Wednesday. There was just something predictable about her. Well, maybe predictable wasn’t the right word, but there were patterns in her behavior, she was cold, but she was honest, when you interacted with Wednesday you knew exactly what not to expect and that was enough. Maybe it was the way everything about her contrasted everything about your powers. Loud to her quiet. Brief bursts of energy to her consistent and constant flow. Bright to her dark. Destruction to her creation.

Wednesday looked up and suddenly seemed to shift all of her attention to the statue. “Y/N,” she spoke your name and you just realized that this was the first time you heard her say your name. You actually liked how she said it.

“Hmm?” you tilted your head to the side, waiting for her to explain what she noticed.

“What are you doing down here?” Enid burst the bubble you two created as well as prevented Wednesday from telling you what she found.

“Hiding. People keep randomly smiling at me. It’s unsettling,” Wednesday explained as she got up and you took that as your cue to get up as well.

“It’s called having your moment! You took down Bianca Barclay, try to enjoy it,” Enid led the two of you back to the pentagon wrongly named Quad. “The girls wanna know if you wanna hang out later. Oh, come on, it won’t kill you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Wednesday replied after a brief thought.

“Great!” Enid went back to other girls from Ophelia Hall.

“So, what did you see?” you finally asked, bringing focus back to the moment before Enid showed up.

“I’ll tell you later,” Wednesday decided when she noticed Weems approaching the two of you.

~X~

That later didn’t quite come, at least not before you fell asleep, completely unaware of Wednesday's plans for that night. You were a light sleeper, you had to be, otherwise you could risk not noticing rain or storm until it was too late. So, when you heard the window opening your eyes snapped open and you carefully took the covers off. A brief look around the part of the room you could see made you notice Wednesday wasn’t in her bed. “Wednesday?” you called out, loud enough for her to hear if she was the one that came in, but not loud enough to wake Enid up.

The silence followed by footsteps heading toward Wednesday’s deck was all the answer you needed. With a sigh you pushed your body off the bed and changed into a red T-shirt and black trousers, there was no way Wednesday would take you seriously in pajamas, even if they weren’t nearly as colorful as Enid’s.

The first thing you noticed when you rounded the corner was the book she opened on her table. “Is that the book you were looking for?” you walked over to the table and, mostly instinctively placed a hand on the back of Wednesday’s chair as you leaned forward to look at it.

“Yes,” Wednesday replied, for now not reacting to your proximity. You weren’t touching her, so maybe this was fine. She flipped the pages until she reached a half ripped picture and set the half she took from Rowan next to it.

“Crackstone?” you couldn’t help but recognize the man on the picture.

“You know who this is?” Wednesday immediately turned to you and you took a step back, realizing now just how close the two of you were.

You went and leaned back against the wall next to her desk. “You don’t live in Jericho for four years and somehow avoid learning about him. Jericho’s founding father, from what I heard he despised outcasts. Nearly wiped them out four centuries ago,” you explained, but it didn’t make sense. How was a man that lived all that time ago related to Wednesday?

“How do I learn more about him?” Wednesday asked, for a moment you felt nervous at having all of her attention on you.

“Uh, The Pilgrim World might be a good start,” you figured. “Just find a way to get volunteer work over there and I guess you’re all set. I’ll trade with you if I get it and you don’t. Though, knowing Weems neither of us are getting it.”

“Why?” there was that small head tilt again.

“She’ll probably want to keep me close, so I don’t get into trouble again this year and I don’t think she’d put you in The Pilgrim World, in case you end up causing trouble,” you grinned a bit, but there was a good chance Enid would get it, so not all hopes were lost. “Now, how about you tell me why you didn’t bring me along?”

Wednesday looked down at the picture. “This doesn’t concern you,” she stated evenly.

You rolled your eyes. “Like hell it doesn’t. Someone killed Rowan, who tried to kill you, and you are my roommate, you might need a lightning beast as back up against oversized Gollum,” you replied, resisting the urge to cross your arms and take a more defensive stance.

“I don’t intend to rely on you,” okay, that stung, why did she have to be this stubbornly independent to the point of wanting to do everything by herself?

“Why not?” you still asked, wondering if you could have a proper conversation with Wednesday about the topic.

“Man can will nothing unless he has first understood that he must count on no one but himself; that he is alone, abandoned on earth in the midst of his infinite responsibilities, without help, with no other aim than the one he sets himself, with no other destiny than the one he forges for himself on this earth,” your eyes widened as she said that, as if reciting her own personal rules in life.

You grinned widely, recognizing the quote. “Yet he sounds almost entirely different when talking about love,” the stoic mask broke for a few moments as Wednesday, surprised at your words, actually blinked a few times, averting her gaze from you. “It's quite an undertaking to start loving somebody. You have to have energy, generosity, blindness. There is even a moment right at the start where you have to jump across an abyss: if you think about it you don't do it,” you fired back with a quote, one that she clearly recognized.

“Such sentiments fit my parents, not me,” Wednesday looked you in the eyes, fierce, a cold flame burning within them.

“No, I guess it doesn’t. Which one does then? Aside from the one you just quoted at me?” you knew you were pushing, but the hint of intrigue and wonder in her eyes made you keep doing it. Made you push until you pushed too far, regardless of where that might lead you.

“Hell is other people,” a simple, short quote, and you had to admit it told you a lot about Wednesday, probably more than she dared to realize.

“Ah, I see,” you nodded, smiling right at her. “I'm going to smile, and my smile will sink down into your pupils, and heaven knows what it will become,” once again she avoided your gaze. “We’re saying the same thing, just with different words. I think there’s a lot of beauty in that,” you didn’t dare phrase it as a question, you just glanced outside the window before looking at Thing. He seemed uncertain of what he was witnessing at the moment. Was it a side of Wednesday he didn’t get to see often? If so, you felt a sense of pride at that.

“Perhaps,” Wednesday agreed after some silence. “I prefer to stay away from that phrasing,” there was something different in her eyes at the moment. Was the fact you went and repeatedly quoted Sartre back at her that impactful?

“Of course. You are you, nothing else would fit,” you dared to take a step closer to her, leaning against the side of her table. “Say, Wednesday,” you motioned toward the picture with your head. “What kind of life will begin on the other side of this?” you asked her.

“Bold of you to assume this will qualify as despair,” she retorted, showing once again just how well she knew Sartre. ‘Life begins on the other side of despair,’ Sartre once said and that picture looked like despair to you. A desperate situation where the fate of the entire school, filled with werewolves, sirens, gorgons, vampires, a school that had you, a raiju, still rested on the back of one girl that wasn’t a part of any of those groups.

You looked her in the eyes, losing every sense of time, it could have been a minute, or an hour. You didn’t know how drowning felt, but somehow you decided you were drowning in her eyes. In those black, emotionless eyes… Somehow, during that night, you felt as if something shifted just slightly between the two of you.

And you weren’t sure either of you realized it.

A/N: So, between being sick at the moment and my free time significantly dropping soon enough I'll try to get chapter 5 in a few days and after that, the story will have to slow down a bit. I'll try to get a chapter out once a week, but there's no way I'll be able to repeat the Lost update pace. Thanks for reading, see you next time!

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

#wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

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aestheticaltcow · 9 months ago

Note

i saw you’re open to requests right now, and i love how you write carmy!! i was wondering if you could do anything about him teaching r how to cook? helping them with a recipe? i love ur work!!🫶

Stop you're gonna make me blush 😭

But, yes, I take requests. I took some creative liberties with this one, but I like how it turned out.

The Bear Masterlist

Soft jazz filled Carmy’s cozy apartment as the two of you stood in the kitchen. Carmy was next to you, trying to make sense of your Dad’s sloppy cursive writing. “I - this man… what the fuck does he mean by light brown chicken?” he mumbled, getting more confused by the second. “And to think the three Michelin star chef can’t figure out what this is BUT had the gull to taunt his non-three Michelin star chef partner for being confused.” Carmy rolled his eyes at your rebuttal and playfully nudged you, “Shut up baby.” you laughed and handed him the card. “They never taught us about ‘Daddy soup’ in culinary school.” you shrugged and took another sip of broth, gagging at the taste. “I don’t know how I fucked up that soup so bad.” Carmy laughed. “Describe it to me- I will figure it out.”

With the recent passing of your father, you’d found yourself desperate to find a way to connect to him, hence the need for ‘Daddy soup’ growing up; whenever it was cold out or whenever you or your siblings were upset, he’d make ‘Daddy soup’ it was the cure to everything. You attempted to explain it to Carmy, “It was chicken? Maybe turkey? There was carrot… celery? I don’t know- it just tasted like love.”

Carmy spent weeks cross-referencing cookbooks and online recipes. He made stock after stock after stock. He called both of your sisters to get a new perspective on what he should do. After weeks of eating only soup for lunch and dinner, Carmy thought he’d figured it out. “Hey, you doin’ anythin’ tonight?” Carmy asked when you answered the phone, “What you cookin’ me?” “Don’t make me say it…” Carmy awkwardly chuckled, “I’ll come over at 7.”

“Okay, can you chop these for me while I shred this duck,” Carmy explained, handing you one of his knives. “Be careful, Syd, and I sharpened our knives last night.” you shot him a confused look, “The fattiness of the duck was what my first and fourth attempts were missing- it’ll be good, I promise.” You shot Carmy a quizzical look but started chopping onions and carrots as he’d instructed. He helped you cook the garlic, making sure it didn’t burn this time around.

“Okay. Try it.” Carmy said, biting the inside of his cheek. As you brought a spoon up to your lips, he swallowed nervously. He stared at you intensely as you tasted the soup. You licked your lips and took another spoonful from the pot. You stood there momentarily and thought, “Well, it’s not Daddy soup but Carmy soup.” Carmy frowned at your criteria, “I thought I had it-” “Carmy, I don’t think anyone can recreate my Dad’s soup, but this is delicious and tastes like love. Thank you.”

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto fan fiction #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #the bear request #aestheticaltcow #aestheticaltcow request box

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violetlunette · 3 months ago

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Father Isn’t a Vampire!

Summary: Silver and Lilia have some musing after Lilia is accused of being a vampire.

Trigger Warning:

*Temporary Child Death

~Start~

Silver puffed out a breath of annoyance.

“I can’t believe they all went this fair,” he grumbled, pushing his slivery bangs back. “Even Sebek got involved.” Lilia gave a goodhearted chuckle.

“Kufufu! I’m actually flattered that they felt they needed to go so far!” Silver frown deepened at his father’s amusement.

“Please don’t take this so lightly. They almost stabbed you,” he said, a flash to his gaze and growl to his tone. “All because they believed you were were a vampire!” Lilia’s smile had a strange aspect to it as he thought.

Vampires; Demons of the night created long ago during times of famine, pestilence, and war. Who created them, few could say for sure. The Fae say it was humans who messed with dark arts they couldn’t handle and vice versa.

Wherever they came from, it was agreed that vampires were monsters. Vile things resurrected from the dead, who could only continue their unholy life by stealing it from the living.

Once upon a time they ravaged the world, devouring people like livestock until the Diurnal released the power of the Firebird to burn them all away, allowing the world to be reborn from the ashes and prosper once more.

Since then the dark creatures that nearly wiped out the world had fallen to myth, remembered only in stories.

“Well--I’ll admit that they were a bit extreme,” he conceded with a hum. It wasn’t long before he perked up again. “But it all ended well! And it’s not like they’ll be trying again.” Silver didn’t argue with that.

Aside from the verbal lashing he himself gave them, Lilia had “playful” trounced all of them, thinking they were playing some sort of game. When it was all over, they were all limping away.

“Even so, the fact they tried in the first place…” Silver interrupted himself with an exasperated breath.

To be fair, his father did seem to have some vampiric traits.

Lilia had an intense aversion to the sun, which contributed to his lily pale skin. His eyes could be seen as cat-like as well, due to the silted pupil and red color that was commonly attributed to the mythical being. He even had long fangs that poked over his lip, giving him his kitten-like smile.

There were also smaller things, such as the fact his motif seemed to be bats, he liked to fly and often appeared out of no where by hanging upside down. On top of that, he happened to like tomato and other red juices which were commonly associated with vampires.

However, as Silver had tried to explain to everyone, that was just because Lilia was a nocturnal fae of bat bloodline, not because he was a vampire.

‘It’s one thing for the rest of them to get paranoid, but Sebek--’ Silver nearly stumbled as something squished under his foot.

It was one of the many garlic cloves scattered around the area. The others brought enough to fill the Monstro lounge to protect themselves.

Silver’s nose scrunched as a strong scent filled his senses. The smell was overwhelming and he swayed on his feet.

“Silver?” Silver caught himself as his father’s worried tone reached his ears.

“Ah, sorry. It’s just-- the garlic is really intense,” he apologized. Silver had a very acute sense of smell which had more drawbacks than benefits. Garlic especially bothered him. For some reason, he couldn’t even go near them when they were in blossom form.

Lilia nodded in understanding as he stepped over.

“Why don’t you head up to bed? You’ve had just as long a day as myself.”

“Ah, but…”

“It’s fine! Besides, you’re allergic to all this stuff.” Unfortunately, he had a point. Not only did Silver have an aversion to garlic, but the metal he shared a name with burned his skin so he couldn’t touch the crosses, nor the stakes of yew wood without breaking into hives.

Silver dropped his head.

“Sorry…” Lilia waved the apology away.

“I already told you it’s fine. And I can use the garlic in my next dish.” Silver gulped at the thought.

“Father, please no,” he begged, dreading what horrible thing the other might make with those bulbs he was shoving into his coat pocket.

Silver ran a hand over his dark pink skin, burnt by the sun yet again. Lilia wasn’t the only one sensitive to the sun. In fact Silver was more affected by it than any of his nocturnal friends. Not a day went by where he wasn’t burned by the ball of light, despite the fact he used a special lotion to protect himself. Even the expensive ointment Vil offered didn’t appear to work.

As he was unable to help, and could feel a sleep spell coming on, Silver excused himself to his dorm room.

As soon as he entered, he was met with the familiar scent of dirt. Silver let out a breath as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Father…” ‘Did he sneak in here again?’ Lilia had a firm belief that a certain type of dirt would help Silver and allow him to rest. Silver had insisted time and again he didn’t need it and often threw it away. However, Lilia always managed to sneak a pile back under.

“I’m just trying to look out for my child,” he would say in the cutest tone with the most fragile expression when Silver called him on it, making the teen unable to refused.

‘It’s not that I don’t appreciate the thought, but I’m not a child. He doesn’t have to do thing like this for me.’ He even had Silver’s bed brought from home so he would “sleep better.”

Speaking of the bed, Silver never noticed how odd he piece of furniture was until he arrived at Night Raven. It didn’t look like the school beds and was often compared to a coffin by the others. It even had a lid and was lined with silk, which was dirtied from the dirt shoved beneath the cushions.

Being too tired from today to deal with his father’s eccentricities Silver just took a tired breath and climbed into the bed. He would vacuum up the dirt again tomorrow. Still, he had to admit that he rested with the scent of the earth in his senses...

~*~

Lilia cleaned up the mess the children made with practiced movements from when Silver and Sebek were children.

‘Those kids really did their research,’ he thought with a mix of pride—and worry. Because it was him, it all turned out alright.

‘But if it was Silver…’ Lilia bit his pale lip.

He should told him. He should have told him a long time ago, but how could he? How could Lilia tell Silver that he was a vampire?

Especially when Lilia was the one who turned him into one.

~*~

It was a dark and stormy night.

The wind howled like wolves and thunder roared like lions as Zeus threw his bolts across the sky.

‘Where is he?’ Lilia had wondered, pushing his damp hair aside as rain and hail fell in torrents, soaking the earth below. He tried to fly as the mud kept trying to pull him in, but the heavy water kept pushing down. By this point he was soaked.

His skin was bright blue and his teeth clattered as ice filled his veins. But he couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t go back. Not without Silver.

It had been such a small thing; Silver asked why their ears were different and Lilia thought it would be good to use the opportunity to tell him the truth. He must have said something wrong. To run out on a blistery wet night like this--

Lightning clashed at the same time he called Silver’s name, the blast drowning out his desperate cry.

‘What if I can’t find him? What if--’ The world twisted around him and he had to swallow the nausea that filled his stomach and crawled up his throat.

“No, I can’t think like that,” he told himself in a whisper. If he allowed such thoughts, they would paralyze him and then his Silver really would be lost.

He continued on until a something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. It was a piece of cloth snagged on a branch, waving in the wind like a flag. Lilia recognized the fabric. It was from a shirt Lilia bought for Silver while on his travels. Upon closer inspection he noticed the bushed looked messed up, as if something charged through them.

Terror and dread filled Lilia as he floated over them.

On the other side was a cliff’s edge. And at the bottom--

“SILVER!!” The storm illuminated the form of a boy lying like broken doll, his limbs askew.

Lilia was at his side in an instant, as white and transparent as spirit.

“No, no, no, please no.” The fae whimpered as he lifted the child out of the mud and into his arms. As he held him Lilia shook, his finger grasping him desperately. He pressed his ear to Silver’s chest, and held his breath.

There was no sound.

“No…” Lilia couldn’t believe what happened. That his precious little boy was-- “No!!”

The anguish Lilia had felt resided in his heart to this day. It tore him apart like a beast, burning his eyes and throat as cried into the night begging for heaven or even hell to given his son back to him.

‘Even if it’s as a monster, I just--’ That was when the idea came to him.

Lilia recalled a book. It came his mind as he thought of the last memory Lilia had of Silver before he disappeared outside. Silver was reading a book. It was one Malleus had found while exploring some old ruins. He had gifted it to Lilia because of the bat on the cover. It was a book on vampires. More importantly, how they--

Lilia scooped Silver’s bod—Silver into his arms, jaw locked in determination as he teleported home.

He held Silver close as he searched through the shelves for the tome he was looking for. Eventually, he found it. Using his magic, he had the book float and open. He scanned the pages, his throat holding his breath as tight as he held Silver.

At last he found it; the vampire creation spell.

‘This--!’ Lilia wasn’t sure f the spell would save the child, or condemn him. All he knew was that he had to try.

Otherwise...

~*~

In the present, Lilia smiled solemnly at the memory.

Not one person would ever believe he succeeded in his desperate act. After all, Silver was the most unvampiric person one could imagine.

His skin wasn’t pale as it was often burn pink under the sun. He didn’t turn into a bat, though he could turn into mist easily. He didn’t even seem to have fangs at first glance. (Lilia learned over time that Silver did have them, they were just dull and retractable.)

Most of all, it was nearly impossible to get the boy to drink blood,

When Lilia first resurrected Silver, he was worried the boy would turn into a blood thirsty beast as the legends said. But it was just the opposite.

Silver absolutely refused to drink blood from the source, forcing Lilia to get creative. Lilia had tried slipping some in his meals, but somehow Silver would sniff it out. He eventually learned that the stubborn boy would only eat the meals if they had blood of those he wasn’t acquainted with. The bat fae had to have liquid imported or collect some on his travels.

Lilia sighed. He was aware that he should have told Silver the truth, but he worried.

In the past, Silver was so upset just to hear that they weren��t related that he ran into a dangerous storm and off a cliff. How would he react to finding out he died and was resurrected as a vampire, one of the most feared creatures in Twisted Wonderland’s history?

On top of that, if anyone found then that soft heart of his precious child would have a stake in it.

Lilia stared at the yew in his hand as he pressed his lips into a thin line, which then curved into a smile.

‘So, everyone thinks I’m the vampire, hm?’ “Kufufu, that could be fun.” As long as it kept others from discovering the truth.

Especially Silver.

~end~

A/n:

*Haven’t decided whether this should be a series or not. Tell ya what, if this gets ten comments before next Sunday (8/11/2024) I’ll take a stab at it.

*Speaking of stab, I'll let ya'll guess the brave fool who attempted to stake our Lilia.

*I feel that this scenario would make a decent plot for comedy shoujo series, where the protagonist's family tries to hide the fact she’s a vampire while her friends believe her goth dad is a vampire. And of course, the lead is obviously dating a vampire hunter with a tragic backstory while the childhood friend and a vampire prince are in love with her. Ah well; maybe someday.

*Fun fact; despite what popular myths say, it’s actually garlic blossoms that are supposed to chase vampires away not the garlic bulbs. I just wasn’t going to pass up a joke, no matter how small.

#mine #twst #twisted wonderland #twst silver #silver twst #lilia vanrouge #silver vanrouge #silver twisted wonderland #lilia twst #twst lilia #twistedwonderland #disney twst #diasomnia #twst au #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #Father is not a vampire!

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happy-beeeps · 5 months ago

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Domesticity

Summary: a slice of life moment of a very anxious Gale, and a very relaxed reader!

Pairing: gale x drow!tav (gn i thiiiiiiiink?)

warnings: mention of alcohol, suggestive content but no smut

a/n: posting this in the airport I have no shame!!!! this is based on my current playthrough with my drow paladin. so there are some references to drow and tav finding a found family within Minthara, but it's not really a fleshed out oc!

Cooking doesn’t come quite as naturally to you as you’d hoped. It’s a complex balance of flavor—spice and savory and salty and sweet—that challenges the palate you’ve grown accustomed to in Menzobarrenzen and your time in exile. Still, you move slowly, carefully, over the faded recipe card, make precise cuts to the carrots in front of you.

There’s a movement in the counter, and your wine glass is moved closer to you. “One for the pot, one for the cook. Or so the saying goes.” Tara hums, curling up on the edge of the counter. You can’t imagine Gale would say anything, so you don’t bother asking her to move away from the cooking.

“If I want to have any hope of this turning out, I’m going to need to slow down.”

She tuts in response, kicking her legs out long and rolling onto her back.

“Why is this so hard?”

“What, cooking?”

“Yes!” You toss the carrots into the steaming pot, and move to toss in the onions and garlic nearby. “He makes everything look so effortless.”

“Funny enough, I seem to recall him saying something similar when he attempted to wield your greatsword.” She moves off the counter with ease, “perhaps that’s what makes the two of you work so well.”

You’re so wrapped up in your cooking that you don’t head the door open, and don’t sense the heavy weight moving across the wooden floor until his hands are on you, wrapping around your waist. You’re carefully moving the dish onto two plates, and nearly drop the spoon in surprise. “You should be grateful this isn’t a dagger,” you mumble against his neck as places his chin on your shoulder.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I’ve taken a calculated guess that you wouldn’t be wielding a weapon in our kitchen at this hour.”

“Then you don’t know me at all.”

“On the contrary, but perhaps we could get reacquainted.” He moves to pepper soft kisses along your jawline, but pauses at the realization of what’s in front of him. “Is that…”

“Your mother’s shepards pie?” You’re blushing now when he turns to you. “I wanted to surprise you, you’ve been so busy with grading.”

“Well, color me surprised.” He moves to grab both plates and begins setting your table. “Sit down, let me get your glass.”

“Only if you have one too.”

He smiles and grabs another glass, along with the bottle before settling in front of you. You try to contain your excitement when he moves to take his first bite, trying to nonchalantly watch him out of the corner of your eye. His eyes light up, and his gaze rockets to yours. “How did you get this? It’s perfect.”

“It’s not a far walk to your mothers,” you pause to take a sip of your wine, a delightful red decidedly nicer than the bottle you had been sipping from earlier. Sneaky. “I’ve been going by on my slower days for tea.”

“You’ve been spending time at my mother’s?” It’s not an accusatory question, on the contrary, his eyes glow with warmth at the thought.

“She’s sweet, and it’s nice to spend time with family, and I told her I wanted to surprise you.”

He’s quiet at first, simply smiling at his plate and eating. After a moment, he speaks up. “Family, yes?”

Your cheeks burn with color at your minor slip. “I mean, in a sense-“

“And in the literal skin enough.” He reaches across the table to gently graze the top of your hand, hesitating on the knuckle above your ring finger.

Dinner passes in relative simplicity afterwards, casual conversation about his classes, your work at the temple.

“While on the topic of families, I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you who I saw today.”

Your eyebrow quirks up in response, “Oh?”

“Your sister is in town.”

“Minthara?” Your brows furrow, “I didn’t know she was headed this way, are there cultists in Waterdeep?”

“Hardly, she’s heading back to Baldur’s Gate, something to do with Nine Fingers. I told her to tell you more tomorrow. She’s found company for the evening.”

“Sounds like Minty,” you smile at the thought of your pseudo-sister. “I’m happy to see her tomorrow, but I’m not heading to Baldur’s Gate with her.”

He blinks in surprise, “You’re not?”

“Do you want me to go?”

“I just assumed you’d be interested. It’s been quite a moment since you’ve done a daring rescue, some savvy swashbuckling.”

You snort at the word choice, “Swashbuckling is more Astarion’s style. Besides, I’m busy with my work here, and then we’d be apart. You can’t leave in the middle of the semester.”

“You bring up a valid roadblock, my love.” He smiles at the end of his thought, but there’s an uncertainty in his eyes that doesn’t miss you.

You’re on your back, clad in nothing but one of Gale’s impossible comfortable tunics. He’s beside you of course, reclining beside you on the plush blanket laid out on the terrace of his study. His hands twirl above you, and lights dance overhead. You’re mesmerized by him, by even the smallest of spells that hardly take any effort. You burrow deeper into his side, transfixed by the colors moving overhead.

He moves after a moment, propping himself on his elbow. “Can I confess something to you?”

“Of course,” you move to cradle his cheek in your hand, rolling on to your side to face him. “What is it?”

“I’ve been feeling… a flavor of insecurity as of late. At first, I couldn’t believe my good graces, to not only survive our encounter with the brain, but to bring you home to Waterdeep, to see you in my tower. It’s still surreal. A student, however, noticed you in the market recently, and asked what it was like to live with a great warrior like you, and I realized I’d neglected that. You are a great warrior, you’re an excellent paladin, I’ve watched you slay more enemies and heal me more times than I can count. And then I saw Minthara, all disheveled, hair messy, but happy. I’m worried I’m keeping you trapped in this tower, not unlike how I felt when I encountered my orb. You know you’re always free to go, frolick the sword coast and slay enemies the whole way down, correct?”

The honesty of his confession catches you by surprise for a moment. You haven’t the words to reassure him, you’re not sure you could string them together if you tried. Instead you kiss him, leaning forward and cupping his cheek. He leans in hungrily, interpreting your gesture as your answer. His lips are soft against yours, the taste of wine making you drunk with anticipation as you pull back.

“When I became a paladin, it was because I wanted my people, Seldarine, Lolth sworn, just drow in general to be respected by surface dwellers. I do too. My oath to bring balance and light, not to slaughter every prejudiced person on the sword coast. I can fulfill my oath with the work I do here, at the temple in Waterdeep, with you, and frankly, you’re selling yourself short as a wizard, you’re quite the catch,” his hand slides down your back and you feel yourself being tugged closer, “Where Minthara, gods bless her, needs blood and sex to satisfy her, I can get by with a good wine and a dinner with you.”

He kissed you again, quickly, and pulls his hand away to smooth your cheek, “Well, perhaps we don’t need to count out sex as satisfaction just yet,” his hand rubs slow circles along your back as he pulls you in closer, “after all, I am quite the accomplished wizard.”

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #gale x reader #bg3 gale x tav #bg3 gale x reader #bg3 fic

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shovelbug · 1 year ago

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You lived a relatively quiet life. You were never one for the luxury so many Fontainians seemed to favor, but you were fine with that. You lived in a small apartment complex, and it was more than enough for you. Not much of a view, but you make do. You kept to yourself occupied with your hobbies. It wasn’t glamorous, but you were happy.

But even you knew about the recent trial of the Hydro Archon and her subsequent retirement from her position. You felt a great grief for all the woman had been through, and you held even more respect for her, perhaps even more so than before the trial.

So it was simultaneously no surprise and a great shock that Lady Furina, of all people, was your new neighbor.

It made sense, you figured. You would want a quiet life and a place to rest after all that, too. So, with that in mind, you resolved to treat her kindly, but no differently from how you would anyone else. She had enough of being put on a pedestal for one lifetime, you thought.

The day she moved in, she had very little in terms of luggage, but you offered to bring her bags up regardless. She seemed like she was ready to insist otherwise, but she didn’t actually refuse and allowed your help with a simple “Thank you.”

She sounded tired, you noticed. But also, more genuine.

You didn’t interact with her much other than that, save for when you used the fire hydrant in the hall to spray down her kitchen afyer she burned her macaroni. Despite her embarrassment, you said nothing of the incident and occasionally exchanged polite hello’s and good mornings whenever you happened to pass each other by.

It seemed wrong to judge the (former?) god of justice. More than that, you felt she was really just starting her life for the first time, as ironic as that sounded. She was stumbling, unsure, like a baby deer on its legs. But she was still trying, and kept getting back up. There was something to be admired in that.

After some time, you noticed how she seemed to pretty much only make macaroni. Now, you were no stranger to safe or comfort foods and often would make the same things yourself when you were lacking energy, but even that got tiresome after a while. So, when you were making yourself dinner one day, you found yourself making an extra portion. You put the lasagna and a few slices of the garlic baguette into a container and covered it, before taking it and peering into the hall.

Quiet, as usual. You padded along the corridor to her apartment’s doorstep, before leaving it with a quick knock and hurrying back to your own apartment.

You hoped, in some small way, Furina would find joy in the gesture.

a/n: hi so uhhh this is basically like. Furina moves into her little apartment and you’re her neighbor who is like i’ll just treat her like a normal person but also i am mildly Concerned. i haven’t finished her story quest so apologies if this is weird or something this is just a brain worm i had. might continue it idk! anyways i love her

k thanks for reading love you bye

#genshin impact x reader #gi x reader #furina x reader #furina x male reader #furina x gn reader #hydro archon x reader #focalors x reader #fontaine x reader #altair speaks #also i wrote this on mobile and copy pasted it from therre #so apologies if the format is kinda wonky

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theswordwrites · 16 days ago

Text

PART FOUR (the alchemy)

Juniper and Aemond go on their first date.

tw: literally nothing. low-key fluff.

word count: 3.1k

Ten minutes into dinner, Juniper Greyson had a realization.

She hadn’t been on a date in a long time.

Like, years.

Oliver had been… fine, she supposed. But their “dates” always involved the greasy pizza place across from his apartment— where the lighting was too bright, and the chairs wobbled like sad, forgotten carnival rides. He never picked her up, never held the door open, and he certainly never did anything that made her feel like someone worth dressing up for.

Aemond, on the other hand, had done all of that.

(Okay, technically, his driver had picked her up—but he’d been polite, and the car smelled like leather and money, which, honestly, counted.)

Now she was sitting across from Aemond Targaryen—a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a luxury magazine spread. Charcoal-gray pants, crisp white button-up rolled to his elbows, the muscles in his forearms catching her eye for far too long. She kept sneaking glances, hoping he wouldn’t notice. His hair was just a little messy, like he’d spent the whole day running his fingers through it, and the sight made her throat go dry.

He was handsome—obnoxiously so. That was her first mistake. Realizing it.

Her second mistake was lingering on the thought. She cleared her throat, as if that would somehow chase it away.

The restaurant was elegant, bathed in warm, golden light that softened every shadow, casting a refined glow over everything. Chandeliers hung like delicate sculptures, and each table held a single votive candle, its flame flickering quietly in the subdued atmosphere. The air was thick with the scent of truffle oil and roasted garlic, while the gentle murmur of conversation and faint strains of jazz from a live pianist drifted through the room.

Aemond, meanwhile, seemed perfectly at ease, thumbing through the menu like this was just another night.

Without looking up, he broke the silence. “So… what do people usually talk about on these things? The weather?”

June let out an involuntary huff of a laugh, the sound louder than she intended.

“Oh, yeah. Small talk is definitely still in fashion,” she quipped, a bit too fast. Her voice pitched higher than usual, and she cringed internally.

June felt her palms sweating, fingers fiddling with the napkin in her lap. As Aemond smoothly gestured for the waiter, ordering in a low, confident voice, she realized she hadn’t even looked at the menu. When it was her turn to speak, she felt the pressure of his eyes on her.

"Uh, I’ll have the… pasta?" she stammered, feeling ridiculous the second the words left her mouth. The waiter didn’t even blink, but Aemond smiled—soft, like he didn’t mind her awkwardness.

"The one the chef took off the menu last month, with the capers.” He said to the waiter, leaning back in his chair, perfectly at ease. "It’s one of their best dishes."

June gave a small nod, her heart hammering as she forced a smile. Of course he was calm. And of course he knew the chef. He probably did this kind of thing all the time. Meanwhile, she was struggling to keep her voice steady, hoping her nerves didn’t show as much as she feared.

Aemond’s lips twitched, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Tell me about yourself.”

He glanced up from his glass, peering through his lashes in a way that felt unfairly intentional. June’s heart did a weird little stutter, and she scrambled to find something—anything—normal to say.

“Uh…” She stalled, feeling her brain short-circuit. “I grew up in the North. I moved here for school and, um, after I finished my first degree, I decided to stay for my PhD.”

She finished with a tight smile, hoping that would be enough. Aemond gave her a look—just the slightest raise of his brow. Not unkind, but definitely a little amused. It was the kind of look that said, That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?

June’s cheeks burned under his gaze.

“Okay, uh… I have a cat,” she added, grasping at straws. “Her name’s Florence, but I just call her Flo. She’s orange. And, um… perfect.” She winced as soon as the words left her mouth. Perfect? Why had she said perfect?

Aemond nodded, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Cats usually are.”

June bit the inside of her cheek, desperate to keep herself from spiraling further into awkwardness.

“What about your family?” Aemond asked, smoothly shifting the conversation.

“Oh.” She exhaled, grateful for the change of topic, but the question wasn’t exactly easy to answer.

“It’s just my mom now. She’s great. A little… overbearing sometimes.” She tried to keep her tone light, but the word now hung in the air between them, too heavy to ignore.

Aemond’s gaze flickered with something—understanding, maybe—but he didn’t press.

“Do you get to see her often?”

“Often enough,” June replied, forcing a smile. “I try to go home every few months. And she visits in the summer. It’s… nice.”

Her hands twisted in her lap beneath the table and her fingers fiddling with the hem of her napkin, mustering the courage to ask, “What about your family?

Aemond’s lips curled slightly. “Why don’t you tell me more about your mother first?”

June blinked, thrown off for a second. “I already told you about her.”

He raised a brow. “I want details. What does she think about Flo?”

June laughed, feeling the tension dissolve just a little. “Oh, she adores Flo. Sometimes I think she likes her more than me. She sends me little care packages with toys and treats. I think she really just wants grandchildren.”

She didn’t miss the way he steered the conversation back to her, avoiding the topic of his family completely. But, he hadn’t pressed her earlier, so she wouldn’t either.

Another waiter came with wine, pouring it into both of their cups quietly. June noticed how the young man's eyes darted between Aemond and her—surely recognizing them.

After the waiter turned away, Aemond continued with his questions. “Is that something you want? Kids?”

The question hit her like a stray gust of wind—unexpected and weirdly personal. She almost choked on her sip but managed to swallow it down, wide-eyed.

“Uh…” She wiped the corner of her mouth with her napkin, stalling for time. “That’s… kind of a big question for a first date.

Aemond gave a small, nonchalant shrug, as if he’d asked her opinion on the weather. “Maybe. But it’s a valid one.”

“Sure,” she said, dragging the word out. “But most people ease into that kind of thing.”

He leaned back, his expression calm but curious, like he wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily.

June fumbled for a response. “I mean, I think I do. Someday. Probably. If the circumstances were right.”

Aemond’s gaze sharpened slightly, though his tone remained measured. “And what would ‘right circumstances’ look like?”

Oh my god, June thought, why is this happening right now?

“I don’t know.” She tried to laugh, but it came out more like a nervous puff of air. “A stable job. A house that isn’t held together by duct tape. A partner who can… I don’t know, keep a plant alive?”

Aemond smirked at that. “So, not high standards then.”

June rolled her eyes. “Hey, keeping a plant alive is harder than it sounds.”

Aemond gave a soft hum, as if he were filing that away for later. “I’ve always thought about it,” he said, his voice quieter this time.

June blinked. “Really?”

He nodded, swirling his glass of wine absently. “Not often. But… it crosses my mind every now and then.”

She tilted her head. “What, like having a bunch of kids running around?”

Aemond’s lips quirked in a dry half-smile. “Not exactly. Just one, maybe two.” He paused, glancing down at his wine for a beat before adding, “I’d want to do it better than it was done for me.”

That last sentence hung in the air between them, heavier than June had expected. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry,” Aemond muttered, shifting in his seat as if he’d given away more than he intended. “That was probably… too much.”

“No, it’s okay.” June shook her head quickly. “I get it. Kind of.” She fiddled with the stem of her glass. “I think that’s why it’s hard for me to picture it. I mean… what if you screw it up, right?”

Aemond met her gaze again, and there was a flicker of understanding in his eye—something unspoken but mutual.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but thoughtful, almost heavy with things neither of them knew how to say.

Then, because June could never leave well enough alone, she blurted, “So, what’s your hypothetical kid’s name?”

Aemond gave her a look—half amused, half exasperated. “Seriously?”

She grinned, the awkwardness lifting just slightly. “Yeah. You brought it up, so now you have to answer.”

Aemond exhaled a laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “I have no idea.”

“C’mon,” June pressed. “First thing that comes to mind.”

“…Eleanor,” he said dryly.

June softened at that. “That’s quite endearing.”

Aemond rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. “What about you, then? What would your kid be named?”

“Hmm.” She tapped her chin theatrically. “I think… something ridiculous. Like Augustus. Or Clementine.”

Aemond shook his head, lips curving into a reluctant smile. “Your poor child.”

June grinned, feeling a little more at ease now, like they’d stumbled into something unexpectedly comfortable.

“Hey,” she said playfully. “If I ever have a Clementine, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”

Aemond raised his glass in a mock toast. “I’ll hold you to that.”

June could have sighed in relief. This wasn’t as difficult as she had anticipated. She didn’t have to fake her smiles or laughter—those were genuine. The banter was enjoyable, even fun.

Their food arrived soon after, and they continued their conversation. The dish Aemond had chosen for her was perfect, and she could see the smug satisfaction on his face. She lit up at his questions about her dissertation, eagerly explaining the intricacies of the depiction of women in early Westerosi art. They discovered they shared a taste for classic literature and poetry. She opted not to mention her recent binge on fantasy novels so steamy they made her sweat.

Aemond laughed softly at her jokes, and though it was a quiet sound, it felt like a victory.

The evening slipped away faster than June expected. She watched as Aemond finished signing the check with a flourish, his movements practiced and efficient, and she tried to ignore the strange twist in her stomach at the sight.

As they left the restaurant, Aemond smoothly extended his arm to her. It was such a gentlemanly gesture, so perfectly fitting for someone like him. June hesitated, staring at his arm as if it were an alien concept, before awkwardly looping hers through it.

He glanced down at her, a small smile playing on his lips. "You don’t have to act like I’m a stranger," he teased lightly. "I don’t bite."

She laughed nervously, her pulse racing at the warmth of his arm beneath her hand. "Sorry, I just… I’m not used to this," she admitted.

"Used to what?" he asked, his voice smooth and calm.

“Being wined and dined.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice so no one else would hear.

He simply smiled down at her. “Well, you might have to get used to those things. In fact, I believe you are contractually obligated.”

She just hummed as he opened the car door for her, before sliding in after her.

The ride home was quiet at first. The sleek, black leather interior of the car smelled faintly of cedar and the warm, lingering cologne Aemond wore, which only served to keep her uncomfortably aware of his presence beside her. Her fingers toyed with her purse strap, the weight of the night pressing down on her in a way she couldn’t quite shake.

She quietly asked, “Do you think there are any cameras?”

Aemond shook his head, “No. Criston and his team came through before we did. And there won’t be any photos from the restaurant either. Maybe a gossip blog will pick up a tip, but no photo evidence.”

“This was more for us—” He said, gazing down at her, “To get to know one another. Get more comfortable. I don’t want to throw you in the deep end.”

The words and give you another chance to pull out of the deal were left unsaid.

June found it endearing and it wasn’t the first time that night. She glanced out the window, the city lights casting a soft, golden glow over the street as they drove through the heart of the city. Even through the glass, she could feel the faint thrum of the music spilling out from late-night bars and restaurants, laughter and voices blending into an ambient hum. But here, in the car, everything was calm and still, broken only by the quiet hum of the engine.

As if sensing her thoughts, Aemond finally spoke. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

The question was simple enough, but there was something in his tone—a genuine curiosity that made her feel oddly vulnerable. She could feel his gaze on her, gentle yet piercing, and she forced herself to look over at him.

“Yes,” she replied softly, offering him a small, honest smile. “It was… different.”

He tilted his head, an amused glint in his eye. “Different, how?”

She laughed, feeling the tension in her chest ease just a little. “In a good way. Just… different from what I’m used to.”

Aemond gave a slight nod, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of satisfaction in his expression, as if her answer meant more to him than he let on. The shadows of the city lights flickered across his face, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw and the way his eyes seemed to soften when he looked at her.

It felt like they were the only two people in the world, isolated in this small bubble of warmth and quiet, shielded from the bustling world outside. The quiet intimacy of it made her heart race in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

“What did you expect?” he asked, his voice low and steady, almost a whisper in the dim light.

She shrugged, glancing down at her hands. “I don’t know. It’s… hard to explain.” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I guess I didn’t expect it to feel… easy.”

He raised an eyebrow, an unreadable expression on his face. “Easy?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like… even though we don’t know each other that well, it wasn’t… uncomfortable.”

She felt her cheeks heat up, and she quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush of color creeping up her neck. But Aemond, of course, noticed everything.

“It doesn’t have to be uncomfortable,” he murmured, his tone soft, almost reassuring. There was a gentleness in his voice that caught her off guard, like he was offering her something—some small reassurance she hadn’t even realized she wanted.

They fell into silence again, the quiet hum of the engine filling the space between them. Outside, the cityscape shifted, the bright lights of downtown fading into quieter, dimly-lit streets as they neared her apartment. She watched the familiar landmarks pass by, feeling the weight of reality settle back in as the night slowly came to an end. But she couldn’t shake the strange, lingering warmth that had taken root in her chest, an unfamiliar sensation that left her feeling both vulnerable and strangely alive.

As the car pulled to a stop, June found herself glancing at her building, the familiar red door standing out against the muted colors of the night. Aemond was already out of the car, and when he opened her door, offering his hand, she felt that warm jolt of surprise again, like the evening itself had granted her permission to lean just a bit closer.

“Let me walk you up,” he said, his voice soft but steady. There was something almost old-fashioned in the gesture, and she smiled, falling into step beside him as they walked toward her door. They moved slowly, their steps echoing in the quiet street. The air between them was charged with an unspoken tension, each step bringing them closer to a goodbye she suddenly felt reluctant to say. She’d barely registered that they were standing in front of her door before she looked up at him, taking in the sharp lines of his face, softened by the night.

“Would you…” she hesitated, hearing the words form before she could reconsider. “Would you like to come in? I could introduce you to Flo. She’s probably waiting by the door.”

For a brief second, Aemond didn’t answer, and she could almost imagine a yes, imagine what it would feel like to sit across from him, this time in her space. But then his gaze softened, and he shook his head, just slightly.

“I’d like that,” he said, his tone quiet, almost regretful. “But I should head back to the office. Still have work waiting for me.”

It was the kind of gentle refusal that reminded her, as gently as possible, of what this really was. The warmth she’d felt was quickly cooling, and she managed a nod, forcing her disappointment to stay below the surface.

“Oh—of course,” she said, straightening. “Maybe next time.” She offered a small, polite smile, the one she used when she needed to keep her guard up, and he gave a faint nod, his face unreadable once more. She half-expected him to just turn and go, but he surprised her, leaning in slightly, his voice lowering.

“Goodnight, June,” he said, his words lingering in the stillness between them. “I’ll see you soon.”

With a final, fleeting glance, he turned, his footsteps quiet as he disappeared back into the night. She watched him go, feeling the chill of the evening creep in around her, the gentle reminder of boundaries settling back into place. As she turned her key in the lock, stepping into her empty apartment, she could feel herself slipping back into the reality of the arrangement.

The evening felt like a dream that had ended too soon, leaving her alone with the quiet and the small ache of what was almost—almost—something more.

this is an insanely late update, midterms kicked my ass! i had fun playing with their conversation and I hope you had fun reading! lmk your thoughts!

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #modern!aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond x reader #theswordwrites

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