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baronessvonglitter · 7 months ago

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America's Favorite Pastime

dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 2.3K

Summary: your dad invites his best friend Joel over to watch the baseball game, with no clue that Joel's been sneaking around with you. Being a feisty little brat, you make a risky move while the three of you watch the game.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (Joel is mid forties, reader is late teens or early twenties), secret relationship, fingering, hand jobs on the sly, basically getting away with smutty stuff while your dad's nearby

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"Your Uncle Joel's comin' by for a bit, gonna watch the ballgame," your dad tells you one warm June evening. Uncle Joel.. you keep your smirk to yourself as you think on the nickname you've known your dad's best friend by all these years. It's especially inappropriate now that you've been hooking up with him since spring break.

And right on time, Joel shows up at your door, jeans snug in all the right places, a heather-gray shirt clinging to his chest, drawing your eyes to the biceps peeking out from beneath his sleeves. There's a few salt and pepper streaks at his temples and in his beard, which when you've pointed out to him, he's laughed off. His eyes dilate at the sight of you, giving you a once-over before he fixes his expression to be one of sociability. "Hey darlin', where's your dad?" he drawls.

"He's on the warpath, can't find batteries to replace the ones in the remote." You let him in, noting the way he brushes against you casually, as if on accident. His hand gently cups your ass, a quick feel before you settle into your roles as family friends. "I'm used to seeing you come through the back door.. or through my window," you murmur, watching his eyes darken with lustful remembrance. "Dad, Uncle Joel's here!" you shout upstairs.

"Damn it, I gotta find some more batteries," Ray calls out from the second floor. "Make yourself at home, buddy!"

Joel chuckles softly at Ray's outburst, his eyes twinkling with playful amusement, and he turns to you with a mischievous smirk. "Looks like we've got a little privacy for a minute, darlin'," he murmurs huskily, his hands sliding down to your hips.

Your panties are already damp at the feel of his large hands on you, fingers playing at the smooth skin between the bottom of your shirt and the top of your shorts. You reach up and run your tongue along the seam of his lips while you put his hand down the front of your jean shorts.

Joel's eyes darken with desire as you guide his hand, his own breath hitching with pleasure at the feel of your warm, wet flesh. "Jesus, Little Miss Eager.. darlin', you're gonna get us caught," he mutters gruffly, his voice husky with need.

"That's part of the thrill," you whisper as he presses you against the back of the sofa. His fingers slide over your slick folds, teasing you, daring you to cry out or whimper.

He grunts softly as his fingers circle your clit, wishing he was nibbling on it the way you love. "What's wrong? Didn't get enough last night? Drivin' me crazy, even with your daddy right upstairs," he whispers back, his voice taut with desire. "Does your daddy know how dirty you are?"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," you reply, breathing rapidly at the feel of his invading fingers.

His fingers explore you, teasing you enough without actually giving in to what you want. "You naughty little thing," he whispers against your ear. "You like takin' the risk, don't you? Lettin' me touch you like this even though your daddy could walk in."

"I am naughty.. your naughty little girl.. your naughty little dirty girl.." your voice breaks, gasping.

Joel grunts softly. "Damn right you are," he growls hungrily, his fingers delving further inside you, curling to find the spot that drives you wild.

"Yes! Yes!" You gasp as quiet as you can, one hand supporting you on the sofa and the other digging your nails into his shoulder. Joel's thumb brushes over your clit in a daring response as his eyes gleam with excitement. "Oh you like that, darlin', don't you?"

"Joel you're gonna make me come.." you tell him, your voice dripping with desperation, the pleasure uncoiling in the pit of your stomach, waiting to be released.

His fingers move faster, generating more friction with your touch. "You gonna come for me right now, with your daddy in the next room?" His voice is taunting and seductive, a dare in and of itself.

"Yes.. yes.. yes!" you squeak out as you come hard around his fingers.

Joel whispers praises against your ear as your pussy grips his fingers, drenching them in your sweet juices. "That's it, darlin', give it to me.. just like that.. good girl," he whispers. "You're so damn beautiful when you come for me like that." His voice is low, husky, full of admiration, and his eyes are full of love and desire.

You whisper his name as you come down, enjoying the little aftershocks of pleasure.

Ray's voice booms out from above. "Hey, what's that noise down there?"

Joel curses under his breath, quickly removing his hand from your shorts, his body tensing as he listens out for Ray's next move.

"We're looking for the batteries, Daddy!" You call back upstairs, taking Joel's wet fingers and licking your juice off them.

Your dad grunts a reply upstairs.

"You little vixen," Joel grins, a lustful expression on his face as he watches you lick his fingers.

"But you like me this way."

"Oh I do. I like you like this way too much, but right now I have to put some space between us before you dad comes down or he's definitely gonna see somethin' he doesn't wanna see."

You pout but he's right. "Don't worry," he mutters, "we'll make up for lost time later. I promise." He goes to wash up quickly, wishing he could keep your scent on his hands.

Your legs are still shaking but you get some beers and soda from the fridge and help Joel set up. Your dad soon comes back down with fresh batteries. "I think we missed the first inning, but that's okay," he replaces the batteries and sits down next to you on the sofa, Joel on your other side. Joel's expression is schooled into neutral politeness as he cracks open a cold one and watches the game. You purposely keep your eyes off him, because honestly if he looks your way you're a goner. The TV generates a soft glow in the relative darkness of the living room.

Sipping your diet soda, you lean against your dad to get comfortable while he explains the rules, even though you've seen a thousand baseball games before. You smile and kiss his cheek as you rest your head on his shoulder, forever his little girl, until someone else comes to take you away. Joel uses his peripheral vision to watch you, comparing your affection for your father with the licentiousness Joel himself has brought out in you.

After feeling Joel's eyes burn a hole through you, you at last give him some attention. "Uncle Joel, who do you think's gonna win? The Rangers or the Red Sox?"

"I'm gonna say the Rangers, sugar. They got a lot of momentum this season, and their batting has been pretty impressive." He takes a sip of his beer, watching you with an appreciative gaze.

"I don't know.. their best pitcher is out for the rest of the season, and they can't hit for shit when they're playing away games." You stick your tongue out at him in a playful ,manner and all he can think of is where he wants that tongue later.

Joel grins at your sharp observation, impressed by your knowledge of the team. "Well damn, darlin'. Sounds like you know your baseball better than I do. I guess we'll just have to see who's right in the end, won't we?"

You chuckle, giving him a flirtatious look as you rise from your seat. "We'll see. Let me get y'all some more beer." You pick up his and your dad's empty beers and take them to the trash.

His eyes don't follow you but his mind is filled with you.. "Damn, she's somethin' else," he mutters.

"You say something?" Ray asks, eyes on the game.

Joel snaps to attention, his heart racing as he realizes he spoke out loud. "Oh, uh.. just sayin' how that third baseman has a hole in his fuckin' glove," he corrects himself.

"They shouldn't have traded for that guy from Detroit. Ridiculous move," Ray shakes his head.

Joel's relieved the conversation is smooth. "Yeah, definitely a tough trade. They really need a consistent lineup."

You return to the living room with ice cold beers. "Here you go, fellas."

Joel's fingers brush against yours a brief moment as you give him his drink. "Thanks, darlin'." His eyes lock with yours before he quickly turns his attention back to the game.

You sit between him and your dad again, pretending to be absorbed in the game. Every now and then your arms or thighs graze one another's. The tension is palpable until, in the semi-darkness of your living room, you place your hand on Joel's thigh, moving upwards to cup his crotch as you innocently turn to your dad to ask him about the game.

Joel clenches his jaw, keeping a vigilant watch on the TV, barely cognizant of the conversation you and your dad are having.

"What's that honey?" your dad asks. "Oh, it's an automatic double when the ball gets hit against the far wall," he explains.

"Hmm, I see.." you continue to caress Joel on the sly, just out of sight of your dad.

Joel shifts in his seat a bit, his face a study in nonchalance. "Yeah, hitting is all about precision and strategy," he chimes in.

"And the bat?" Your caress is bolder, palming his semi-erection while he can't do anything about it. "Does the bat have anything to do with it?"

Joel clears his throat gruffly, soothing the roughness you've created in his voice. "Oh, the bat is absolutely essential.. the right bat can make all the difference in the world.. especially when you've got the right swing." His eyes gleam with unspoken hunger as he holds your gaze, the double entendre obvious.

"Daddy, you played ball with Uncle Joel in high school.. what was his swing like?"

Ray glances up, a nostalgic smile on his face as he recalls the memory. "Oh, your Uncle Joel was a hell of a batter," he grins, shaking his head with admiration. "He had a natural talent for it, a natural sense of timing and coordination. He could knock the ball out of the park with one swing. His whole body would snap into it with this powerful, fluid motion, and you just knew it was gonna be a home run."

"Sounds like nothing's changed," you whisper to Joel, smirking as you watch him writhing under your touch. Taking it up a notch you unbutton his jeans dip your hand inside, finding him growing harder, cock poking through the hole in his boxers. His eyes flutter shut.

You brush your thumb over the tip of his cock and he swallows hard, his features taut with struggling to control himself. "You're toyin' with me, darlin', and you damn well know it," he whispers lightly to you. "Don't make me do somethin' I'll regret in front of your daddy."

"I'll call your bluff." With that, you stroke him faster, turning up the volume with the remote to cover your sounds. Joel's body jerks, his low growl turning into a stifled moan of pleasure. "Damn it, darlin', you're gonna make me lose it," he says through gritted teeth.

"You all right there, man?" Ray asks, eyes glued to the game.

Joel tries to maintain his composure, clearing his throat before answering your dad. "Yeah, I'm fine.. just a lot of excitement in the game," he adds with a strained laugh.

"Shit yeah. This guy scores, the Rangers win." Ray shakes his head and swigs his beer.

Joel takes the opportunity to look down at you, his eyes dark with warning. He shakes his head silently for you to stop teasing before he loses control, but you're having too much fun with this. A slight raise of your brow, your tongue wets your lips and you whisper, "Come for me."

His body tenses at your whispered command, and he does his best to restrain the deep, guttural moan that tries to escape his lips. His hips jerk once against your touch as he spills his release inside his jeans. Luckily, Joel's groans are covered by your dad's shouts of victory as his favorite team wins. Ray leaps from the couch, oblivious to the both of you.

Meanwhile Joel's body is still vibrating with the intensity of his orgasm. He closes his eyes, trying to gather his wits and collect himself before anyone can notice the dampness in his jeans. When he opens his eyes again his gaze lands on you and his stare reads sultry. "You're gonna pay for that, darlin'."

You're shocked at yourself, at what you've caused, but the surge of power is delicious. You remove your hand from his pants and, eyes on him, lick up his cum from your palm. Joel's breath catches in his throat at your bold and suggestive move. He growls softly under his breath, his eyes glued to yours as he silently communicates just how much trouble you're in with him.

"I'm gonna go out and get some more beer," your dad announces, collecting his wallet and keys. "Joel, you okay here? I'm just goin' around the corner."

Joel's in no position to get up without it being evident that's he's come in his pants. "I'm good here," he says mildly, forcing a smile.

"I'll take good care of Uncle Joel," you tell your dad, your smile holding the tiniest bit of mischief. You share a glance with Joel, who for a millisecond looks like he would fuck you on the couch the instant your dad leaves.

"It's no problem, Ray," he assures your dad. "Y'know you can trust me."

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

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amphitriteswife · 3 months ago

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Foolish love

Pairing: Jonggun x reader

Source: Lookism

Summary: visiting Jonggun in jail

Genre: angsty. Sort of fluff idk tbh

Warmings: it sucks ass and its short but uhh its one of my 101838227 concepts about him

‘I love you.’ Jonggun sighed as he heard the words leave your mouth. His hands were finally free of those annoying handcuffs. His body still healing from injuries and damage he took during the many fights he experienced some days ago. Most of them were patched up or in bandages, the only one being visible was the bruising near his right eye. Really, your words made him tired, but to you it was different. Your words were full of emotion, they were genuine. Something Jonggun knew himself. Yet he still thought it was foolish. Love is foolish.

Jonggun already saw how Love made one of his pupils blind, he was talking about Eli Jang. Someone he favored for a long time over Johan or Samuel. Eli had the motivation, the talent, the strength to walk in the footsteps Jonggun had. Yet he threw it all away for a woman. And look where it got him. Eli experienced even more problems, questioning his own morals, all for the sake of his family and daughter. One can understand why, one can sympathize, and one can relate. Yet Jonggun still never understood why he would throw it all away. How foolish of him.

Just as how he thought that Eli’s love for Heather is foolish. He considers your love for him foolish. Something you shouldn’t have for him. Something you never should’ve had since the beginning. What he wanted was someone who could kill him. Someone that could handle him in a fight. Admiration. Motivation. Money. Will power. When he met you, you had it all. You still do. You put up a fight he never experienced. He didn’t have to fight so many others to get to the main point. It wasn’t a fights based on purposes or goals. Just seeing who was stronger. Who could really tear off one’s skin. Who had more experience. Who had more power. Who had more stamina. Both of you didn’t get to lose, nor win as the fight was broken up. But it didn’t go to waste either. No matter where you went or what you did. Jonggun saw pleasure in chasing you and taking every opportunity to test you once again. And every time he looked even more unhinged, even Goo admitted that he found him creepy sometimes.

The open mouthed smile. The white ray of teeth. The salvia still hanging off it. And every time he was in UI state, which made him look even more demonic. Jonggun was a devil who had good morals. Sometimes. Yet did a lot of questionable things. He was crazy, yet that’s the sole purpose of why you found him attractive. Isn’t it weird? How do did you ever come to love someone like him?

‘You’re foolish.’ Is what he said. He didn’t even sound angry. Nor sad. Nor disappointed. It was just a deadpanned sentence. It didn’t hold any meaning. Any emotion. Nothing at all. It sucked. It really did. It’s not like you wanted to love him either. His piercing eyes that most found chilling were beautiful to you. The creepiness of them always made you very intrigued. Even now, when you’re pouring your heart out, he’s uninterested. Perhaps a cold prison does really fit him. But the same could be said to you, you met him there exactly 3 years ago after all. Together with Charles, a man who was just a cleaner of the prison who caused all this mess. Even to you it was all vague and unclear, the only reason you ever went along with Charles was for Jonggun. It was all for him. Everything was.

‘You suck... If it was up to me, i could do anything for you.’ You told him bluntly. It made him raise an eyebrow. He never noticed how attached you were to him. Perhaps he never noticed it all. Why did it even matter? It’s not like you ever wanted something with him to begin with. It’s not something you expected. He’s a loyal person, just not a romantic. But that’s enough. Because although his loyalty laid with Charles, yours laid with him. It’s funny isn’t it? He called you a fool, yet he’s the foolish one for not noticing how the two of you were so similar…yet so different. Seeing him against the other side of the glass in a dark blue uniform. It brought back lots of memories. Yet this time you felt much more saddend. You weren’t in love with him. But you loved him. You wanted him to be happy. To finally be free from Charles, yet when it happend it wasn’t what you thought it would be…how disappointing.

Jonggun on the other hand laughed a little at your sentence when he thought about it. You would do everything for him? How loyal. But truly, that’s not something he wanted. He wanted to be left alone, he declined your offer to see him many times, every time he didn’t even mention why. What an ass. Sometimes he didn’t even show up. Even now when you’re in front of him, pleading and confused. Tears streaming down your face, begging him to at least let you help him. He still only apologized for making you cry without giving you an answer to anything. He always left you in the dark, only telling things that seemed necessary. He could only just stare at you from the other side of the glass with hand pressed against yours, just the thick glass in between both the hands. He only told you some words you couldn’t even understand. Something you still don’t get. Not why. Not when. Not how. But you’ll still follow them anyway. He knows it and so do you. No matter what jonggun says. You’ll always follow them. Just like how he followed Charles

‘Wait for me.’

Those are the only 3 words he told you before leaving on his own regard, he still had time left. Even the guards were confused. But it’s Jonggun. He’s never one to speak much about his feelings or emotions anyway…so once again you’re left in the darknwith unanswered questions and uncertain feelings. What a jerk…a jerk you cared about.

Thank yall for readin :P 🩵🤍

#lookism x reader #lookism #lookism jonggun #lookism gun #jonggun park #jonggun #jonggun park x reader #park jonggun #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #webtoon #manhwa

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bakerolivia · 2 years ago

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PANIC ( 2018 )

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littlemissmentallyunstable · 16 days ago

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title: end of my world

pairing: jameson x reader (love) & nash x reader (platonic)

synopsis: everything goes wrong in an instant. and just like that your entire life is flipped upside down

warnings: blood, hospitals, car crash

a/n: thank you for reading 🤍🤍

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee e @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket t @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @eternal--dream

It was all a game. Just a harmless game.

Engines revved and wheels spun. The lights were bright and the smash was deafening.

It wasn’t meant to end like that.

I felt the impact of the crash. Heard his bones crunch. Saw the blood rolling down his face.

It was all a laugh. Being impulsive was for more entertaining than being responsible. I needed to stop thinking about the real world, I needed to be with him, I needed to feel free. I didn’t want to weight of a responsibility or the heaviness of my problems. I wanted to be stressless for once.

The ambulance sirens whirred and everything blurred around me. The people, their faces, their questions, everything but Jameson. All that I could see clearly was Jameson.

We were young and in love. Two idiots craving a buzz of adrenaline, something tingling through their bones. I’m not a reckless girl. Jameson is the reckless one in our relationship, he’s the cliff diver, the car crasher, the paraglider. Me? I’m the girl that sits at home and reads, cries at cheesy romcoms and plaits her hair just to redo it again later. I’m not dangerous, I’m not impulsive, I don’t do things I shouldn’t. Not until I did.

They wheeled him in on a hospital bed like he was in some medical drama, yelling commands, pressing emergency buttons. My legs were compelled to follow, magnetically attracted to him. He couldn’t die. Not here, not now, not like this.

It was all a mess of flashing lights and screams. I needed at least break. I wanted to be reckless knowing he would follow, but he didn’t immediately. He warned me, tried to stop me even. But I manipulated him with glossy doe eyes and a crack in my voice.

Arms interlocked around me, yanking me backwards as I yelled and screamed. Only his name. Jameson. Jameson. Jameson. I tried to get through but what was one injured girl against three doctors. Tears pummelled down my cheeks and I sobbed until my throat was so raw and numb that it didn’t work anymore.

I stare. He’s in a hospital bed and it’s all my fault. His lips are parted only just breathing. His eyes are shut, long eyelashes brushing against his upper cheek. His skin looks like porcelain, a sickening still, pale, perfect white.

He looks like he’s dead. I feel weak at the thought. He’s just lying there, unmoving, cold and I can’t do anything about it. Hopelessness digs sticky fingers through my chest to squeeze what’s left of its nemesis out of my heart.

They checked my reflexes, if my pupils still dilated, stitched together my few open wounds, x-rayed parts of me but everything was fine. Every test, every result, everything was fine. Jameson was anything but. The whole time I just felt nothing inside, my chest was empty, my body was hollow.

If I could trade myself for him I would in an instant. If I could reverse this fates out come. If I could change this. If, if, if… ‘if’ isn’t real. This is real. My love, my heart, my other half dying in a hospital bed, his Hawthorne smirk robbed from his sweet lips. The sweet lips that I’d tasted just hours ago. The sugary aftertaste still lingers but now it burns. Like a corrosive acid attacking my mouth.

He held me by the waist, his fingers so tentatively that it felt like I was delicate. He held my tear stained face in his hands, ignoring as more tears ran down my face dampening his gentle touch. He didn’t care that I was crying, he just kept kissing me. He could taste my thick, hot, salty tears on his tongue. Then we started the drive, that long and fateful drive. He didn’t know how much comfort that brought me, his lips on mine. He didn’t know that it might’ve been the last time out lips touched.

They’ve tried to rip me from his side since too many times, the doctors I mean, but I never budge. Since I was allowed back to see him they won’t dare come close. I don’t know what day it is, I don’t know how long I’ve been here and even though I’ve been told to eat or shower, I can’t will myself to move. I’m not hungry, I don’t care that be I’m dirty, because I feel numb. The world is a void of emptiness, a sea of nothingness.

Until the voices start. They begin as a quiet hum, a distorted melody in my brain. They’re ignorable, easy to get rid of. That’s before they get loud. With each dynamic louder they become harder and harder to control. The voices scream in my ears making my head pound.

You did this

It’s all your fault

How could you

You killed him

You’re worthless

Why didn’t you die

If he dies it’s your fault

Look what he sacrificed for you and what did you give him in return

You’ve never deserved him

You’re a murderer

Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.

In a torrent of dark voice swarm around me. I feel dizzy with it all, some weight growing deep in my chest, heavy like lead. I try to breathe, I try to gain control, I try to look at Jameson but it’s all getting too much. I can’t hear, I can’t see, I can’t speak.

Someone’s hand in on my shoulder. I look up, my vision slowly unbluring. Nash.

“Hey kid,” his voice is soft. He’s being careful around me like he’s treading on eggshells.

“Hey,” I manage to croak through my aching throat.

“Come on,” he sighs offering an arm, “you need to take a break.”

“No,” the word is sharp and hard and it silently echoes off of all of the surrounding walls of white. I am not going anywhere. My mind is set.

“Sorry kid,” he says calmly, “but this isn’t a request.”

He lightly puts a hand on my shoulder and I almost get emotional. I am craving human touch but need to deprive myself of it, because if I let it in I’ll fall apart.

“Don’t touch me,” I snap venom in my voice.

Nash looks at me, I can feel his gaze on my face, even though my eyes are pinned to Jameson’s sickly pale figure, “he’s going to be okay.”

“We don’t know that,” I hiss.

“The best doctors in the country have said so,” he reminds me, a gentleness in his voice I don’t deserve.

“Oh and they’re devoid of human error?” I scoff.

His eyes soften, “this isn’t healthy.”

“I don’t care,” I respond, still not meeting his eyes worried the spirals of hazel would send me into a state of dizzy tears.

“It’s not your fault.”

My lips part and I look up at him, “what?”

“It’s not your fault, kid,” Nash tells me, the tenderness in my voice making my bones throb.

I bite my lip to try and stop the tears as I shake my head, “it is,” I say, “I nearly killed him Nash.”

“You didn’t,” he soothes, “it’s not your fault.”

“I told him we should go,” I choke out, ugly fat tears running down my face, “I suggested it and-“

“Look at me,” he says firmly, gripping my shoulders with a familiar touch, “it’s not your fault.”

“It is, you don’t understand-“

“No, look into my eyes kid, okay,” he says, “this is not your fault.”

The words take a second to seep in. But once they do I lose it. I collapse into Nash in sobbing heap. The heaviness on my chest is too much, the air is suffocating me, the guilt is eating me alive, the worry is poisoning my body, the sadness is wracking my brain. I sob louder and harder the more I think about it.

Nash holds me tightly, he’s arms are strong and steady. He’s not letting go until I need him to, he makes as much clear. Somehow I feel like I’m a child again, curled up in his arms, only this time the nightmare is a reality.

He repeats a sentence over and over, whispering it comfortingly into my ear, “it’s not your fault. You’re okay. I’ve got you. It’s not your fault.”

I pull away snivelling, wiping my damp face with the back of my hand.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Nash says slowly, when I am calmer, “we’re going to go to the cafeteria-“

I begin to object.

“I’m not taking no for an answer, sorry kid,” he replies with an older brother sort of look that tells me to not mess with him, “I don’t put my foot down often but now is one of those times where I have to. Jamie wouldn’t want you doing this to yourself.”

“I know.”

My voice is so small and vulnerable I don’t think I even recognise it.

“So we’re getting something to eat and then we’ll come straight back,” he explains, “I promise.”

“Yeah okay,” I nod slowly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Nash tells me, a warmth spreading across my heart, “everything will be okay.”

I nod shakily as he takes his hand and wipes the last of my tears away.

“Come on, let’s go,” he offers a hand to hold but I don’t take it straight away.

“Okay,” I agree slowly, “just one minute,”

He nods. He knows what I need, he understands. He silently leaves the room but I know he’s stood outside waiting for me.

I look back a Jameson, my eyes grazing over every inch of him. I wish he would open his eyes, I’d kill to see that vibrant green again. I push the hair out of his face gently and readjust his covers. When I sit back down I take his hand into mine and trace it, he used to love it when I did this. I kiss his split knuckles, each and every one then stand up to leave.

As I turn back one last time, what feels like a miracle occurs. I watch as Jameson’s eyes flutter open. My heart leaps in my chest and I feel so many things all at once. I want to scream and laugh and cry and break down but I stay calm, carefully approaching him.

“Hi Jamie,” I whisper, my eyes rimmed thick with joyous tears.

He stares at me blankly, his eyebrows pinching together in a soft confusion.

“Who are you?”

My whole life comes to a crashing halt before my eyes and my heart stops beating.

#bella writes 🤍#the inheritance games #tig #i love jameson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne x reader #jameson winchester hawthorne #jameson x reader #jameson hawthorne #nash tgg #nash tig #nash hawthorne x reader #nash hawthorne x you #nash hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the grandest game #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #the hawthorne brothers #jennifer lynn barnes

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andvys · 1 year ago

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 16

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, mentions of drugs and alcohol, a painful flashback, mean!Steve

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler, Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: As you get closer and closer to your birthday, you are taken back to a painful day.

Word count: 6k+

A/N: @mysticmunson & @hellfire--cult thank you for listening to my rambles and helping me with ideas and inspiring me more and more to write this fic 🤍

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In the months after Steve had left you, you had never felt as miserable as you do now, which is surprising, considering how happy you were in the past few weeks before you had gone on that stupid date with Ray. Not only did that night trigger every bad memory, every negative feeling that you have pushed away for months, you had also made it worse by calling him.

You shouldn’t have called him, you wouldn’t be dealing with all these messed up feelings now if you had just stayed at Rick’s place and waited for Eddie to come back out of the house instead of running off and calling your ex boyfriend.

You shouldn’t have gone to see him on Sunday when you finished your shift at the record store, you should have just gone home but your stupid heart led you there to make it hurt even more when you saw him with her, how gentle he was with her, how happy he looked with her.

You feel as though you are back to square one.

Seeing them together shouldn’t be this hurtful, you should be used to it by now but your feelings are just so hard to ignore. Seeing the way he treated her reminded you of the way he never treated you – only in the first few weeks of your relationship was he this gentle and sweet with you.

When his gentle touches turned into rough ones and the softness in his eyes disappeared, you knew that something had changed, but you were so in love with him, you didn’t care how badly he treated you when he stopped being the Steve you once knew.

You stare at the pages in your book with a blank expression on your face. You are not reading, you are not taking notes, you are not focusing the way you should be. No, your mind is too busy recalling every painful moment that you have had with him.

Heather puts her notebook down, throwing her pencil on the bed, she lets out a groan as she stretches her arms out. Chrissy glances at her as she tears her eyes away from her book. While you and Heather study for finals, she is catching up on her favorite novel, her finals aren’t until next year as she had to repeat second grade after she had gotten sick and missed too many school days.

Heather looks at you, a frown appears on her face when she notices the expression on your face.

“Y/n?”

You blink, furrowing your brows as you look up at your friend, “yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

No.

You shrug and close your book, “yeah, why?”

Heather isn’t convinced and neither is Chrissy who watches you with worried eyes. She had noticed that something is off with you, after spring break, something had changed and you are now more distant than before and it’s not just that, you are also very quiet. Just like you were after your breakup with Steve.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Heather says.

You feel bad for lying to them, for not telling them things that you would have told them a few months back, but you still aren’t the only one who keeps secrets.

Without thinking, you push your sleeves up, accidentally revealing the fading bruises around your wrists. Heather notices them right away, her eyes widen and a gasp falls from her lips. Chrissy furrows her brows at her friend before she notices what she is looking at, she places the book down and straightens up to see what had shocked her friend so much.

When you see the confused and shocked look on Chrissy’s face, you realize your mistake and quickly push your sleeves back down, as though it will reverse your mistake.

“What the fuck?”

“W-What is that, what happened?” Chrissy asks, worriedly.

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing, you shake your head.

“Nothing happened,” you mumble and get up from your bed after pushing the books off of your lap. You leave your room, desperately wanting to escape this situation but of course they follow you, calling out your name bewildered.

“That’s not nothing, y/n!” Heather says angrily as she follows you downstairs.

“I fell,” you mumble, coming up with the weakest lie ever.

Heather snorts in disbelief, “and I’m supposed to believe that?” She asks, almost yelling. You don’t take her anger to heart, you know that she is worried.

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “Heather,” she mumbles, trying to calm her down.

You turn on the lights in the kitchen, blinking rapidly as you feel tears of frustration building up. You try to distract yourself by reaching for the newspaper on the counter, a flyer from some pizza place at the new mall is laying on top of it.

“A-Are you guys hungry?” You ask, without looking up, “I haven’t eaten all day, I’m starving. We could order a pizza, there’s a new place, Surfer Boy–”

“Y/n,” Chrissy says, quietly as she walks towards you with a look of concern in her eyes.

“We could order different kinds,” you say, still hoping to be able to change the subject of the conversation despite knowing that it’s a lost cause.

Heather crosses her arms over her chest, her brows are knitted as she looks you up and down.

“What happened?” She asks again.

Chrissy turns around to send her a warning look, shaking her head.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” Chrissy says as she places her hand on top of yours, trying to give you reassurance.

You narrow your eyes, trying to hide your tears as you give her a small smile.

“You always tell us everything, y/n,” Heather says and for the first time you hear sadness in her voice, sadness and concern. “Since when do you keep secrets?”

Her question irritates you and it sparks the anger inside of you. You snap your head up and look at her with raised brows, “I don’t know, you tell me.”

She looks a little taken aback at your words, surprised even. Though, her eyes flash with guilt. She doesn’t say anything this time, neither does Chrissy and when you look back at her to see her avoiding your eyes, you can’t even help but scoff.

“What are you guys not telling me?” You finally ask the question that’s been on your mind for months now, “what are you hiding?”

Chrissy mumbles your name with a pleading voice, her cheeks glow red, she looks embarrassed.

“You do know that you’re doing the same shit that Steve did to me, right?”

Heather can’t even look into your eyes anymore, she looks down.

“He did that too, he kept secrets, he didn’t talk to me, he didn’t tell me anything, he kept lying to me a-and then it all got too much and he spilled everything to me the moment he had one too many drinks – is that what it takes for you to be honest with me? D-Drinks? Do you need to get drunk too to tell me that you don’t want to be my friend anymore?”

Both of them raise their heads to look at you, shocked and confused as though they can’t believe that you would think that of them.

“What!?” Heather asks, raising her voice, “you think we don’t want to be your friends anymore? What the hell, y/n? You are the one who pushed us away!”

“Because you are both keeping secrets! You whisper behind my back! You don’t tell me shit anymore! What do you expect me to do? To sit there and wait for you to leave the way everyone else does?” Your voice breaks and once again, your tears spill. You can only huff in annoyance when you feel your wet cheeks, “for fucks sake,” you whisper as you wipe away the tears in anger.

Chrissy looks down, she had never felt this guilty before. She knows it’s because of her. The secrets and the whispers. It’s her fault that you feel like they don’t want you but she is scared, so scared to lose you if you find out the truth but right here is where she realizes that she will lose you either way.

Heather’s eyes soften and she looks at you with a frown.

You step away from Chrissy and turn away from them, you place your hands on the counter and look out the window.

“We are not leaving you, y/n,” Heather says, walking towards you, “we would never leave you, you’re our best friend.”

You try not to show how bitter you are, how angry and hurt you still are.

“Doesn’t feel like it, Heather.”

“But she’s right,” Chrissy says with a shaky voice, “we would never leave you.”

You are so sick of the tears, of the pain, of all of this.

Heather and Chrissy share a look and you watch them with narrowed eyes.

You wipe the fresh tears with your sleeves and turn around, leaning against the counter as you look at the blonde, who stares at you with nothing but fear in her eyes and suddenly, you feel guilty for the outburst you just had.

“I’m sorry,” Heather whispers as she reaches for your hand, “I’m sorry we made you feel that way but you are still our best friend, even when we’re not yours anymore.”

“Yeah, Eddie stole that title,” Chrissy mumbles, rolling her eyes when she says his name. She leans against the counter beside you and looks at you with an apologetic look in her eyes and the guilt. The guilt is not very hard to miss.

You know that she is hiding something, something that Heather knows about, something that she doesn’t want you to know. It hurts, she used to tell you everything, now Heather is the only one she confides in and as hurtful as it is, you have to respect that.

“You are still my best friends too,” you murmur and lower your head to hide the pain, “I’m sorry for getting so mad.”

Heather sighs, she rolls her eyes at her own outburst, “I’m sorry too, you don’t have to tell us what happened but just know that we are here for you.”

“Yeah,” Chrissy whispers as she once again reaches for your hand, this time, you squeeze her hand back.

You know that they want to know what happened or better yet, who happened. You don’t want to talk about Ray or the date and the awful things that happened, least of all what happened afterwards when you decided to call him.

“I went on a date with Ray.” You say after a beat of silence.

Their eyes widen with both shock and confusion.

Chrissy opens and closes her mouth, no words come out.

“Ray Parker?” Heather asks, still confused. She saw you with him, at the bonfire party but she didn’t think anything of it.

You nod, clenching your jaw.

“Yeah.”

You feel a shiver running down your spine when you think about that night.

“Turned out that he never wanted to go on a date with me, he just wanted to fuck. I-I didn’t want to, I didn’t even want to go on a date with him, I don’t know what I was thinking,” you ramble as you quickly want to close the subject again, “H-He was very persistent and he kept trying but I pushed him away, nothing happened, luckily.”

Chrissy holds her hand in front of her mouth and Heather looks at you in disbelief.

They see the fear in your eyes and how shaken up you still are.

“What the fuck,” she mumbles, angrily. “He did that to you?” She asks, pointing to your wrists.

“Yeah but it’s okay, it’s–”

“It’s not okay! I’m gonna cut his dick off!” She says, throwing her hands up, “and his balls too!”

“Count me in,” Chrissy says with an angry frown in her soft features. “I hate men!”

You can’t help but snort as you bury your face in your hands.

“This is not funny, y/n!” Heather says, nudging your shoulder, “why do you always go for the worst guys?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble.

Heather is seething and so is Chrissy, that’s why you didn’t want them to know. It’s bad enough that the others know that Eddie and Steve went after him, that they risked getting in trouble with the cops.

Heather keeps mumbling curse words under her breath, while Chrissy tries to make sure that you are feeling okay.

“Do you know where he lives?” Heather asks, “did you go to the cops?”

You shake your head. You don’t want to know where he lives, you don’t want to go to the cops. His wealthy parents won’t let anything happen to their precious son besides, you hope that he learned his lesson after what Eddie and Steve did to him.

Heather and Chrissy might think that it’s Ray who causes you to feel this way, it’s not. It’s Steve, it’s always Steve who is on your mind. It's him who is making you feel like you are not okay because he is once again, haunting you in your memories, in your dreams, in everything.

He is haunting you.

Heather keeps asking questions and it’s starting to make you feel sick.

You close your eyes when you suddenly feel lightheaded, you pinch the bridge of your nose and take deep breaths.

“Can we please just not talk about this?” You ask, interrupting Heather’s ramble, “I-I don’t want to think about it anymore. Besides, it’s been taken care of,” you mumble the last part.

“Wait what?”

“What do you mean?” Chrissy asks, “what’s been taken care of?”

“Eddie and Steve, t-they went after him.”

Chrissy stares with wide eyes and Heather looks at you, confused.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Eddie and Steve?”

You nod.

“I’ll tell you everything but can we first order some food?”

Chrissy notices the pale look on your face, the shakiness in your hands, the tired look in your eyes. She knows. Her eyes meet Heather’s, she nudges her head, raising her brows.

“Yes, of course,” Heather says, reaching for the flyer you looked at earlier, “let me guess, you want pineapple pizza.”

“No way,” you snort, “I only eat it when I’m high.”

“Which happens like three times a week nowadays,” Chrissy jokes.

“What can I say, my weed man is really good.”

Heather laughs, “a very bad influence,” she points out with a smile on her face, “I’ll go order the pizza,” she says before she walks out of the kitchen.

You clear your throat and turn to Chrissy, who is already watching you. There is still concern in her eyes and you desperately want her to stop worrying.

“Chris,” you mumble as you grip her hand tighter, “don’t worry about me.”

She frowns at your words, how can she not worry about you?

“You thought that we don’t want to be your friends anymore.”

“It’s okay, it was a misunderstanding–”

“I will– we will always want you to be our friend,” she says, “it’s always been the three of us, y/n.”

You smile, sadly.

“A-And, I just want you to know that it’s not about our friendship with you or anything.”

“What do you mean?”

She swallows nervously and she runs her fingers through her blonde hair, looking at anything but you, she blushes and it makes you wonder.

“I-I just, Heather isn’t hiding anything from you. T-There’s something that I can’t tell you yet but I will,” she says, looking at the floor, “when I’m ready, okay?”

She is scared of losing you, scared of pushing you away with whatever she is dealing with.

You nod, “of course.”

You are worried about her, about what she’s keeping from you, about what she is so nervous about. You take both of her hands in yours and step closer to her.

“Hey,” you whisper, “can you look at me?”

She raises her head a little, looking at you through her bangs.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me, you don’t have to be scared,” you say, rubbing your circles on her skin, “I’m here and I’ll always be here, no matter what, okay?”

She nods, a smile tugs at her lips.

“I didn’t mean to get so angry, I’m sorry.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I understand it.”

“But we’re okay, right?” You ask.

She nods, eyeing your face with a sad look in her eyes, “of course, we’re okay.”

“Good.”

“Good,” she repeats your words with a smile.

“Hey guys, some guy named Argyle was on the phone! Never heard that name before,” Heather says, laughing from the living room, “he sounded cute.”

You and Chrissy look at each other with furrowed brows before you burst into giggles.

The bruises have faded away, your skin looks healed again, you can finally wear skirts and t-shirts after weeks of hiding in sweaters and jeans. The weather is warm, the sun is shining and the flowers adorn the pretty fields of Hawkins, finally. It’s nearing the end of April and you’re getting closer and closer to exams and the final day of school. You can’t wait to get out of here.

You are staring out the window, watching the white clouds move in the blue sky, you drown out the voices in the classroom, the laughter of Tommy and Carol as they gossip, as always.

The past few weeks haven’t been easy on you, you have been trying to avoid him but everywhere you go, you see him, it reminds you of the way things were after he dumped you. Only this time, he tries, he really tries to sneak his way back into your life, you don’t let him – you want to but you don’t let him. Yet, you can’t help but love every little moment you have with him – passing by him in the hallway, seeing the way his eyes light up when you flash him a small smile, you don’t let it confuse you but, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach either.

You will forever regret the date and the call. That night changed everything. You were okay, you were okay without him. You were sure that you had moved on. You were sure that you did not want him anymore. You were so damn sure. Yet, here you are, unable to stop thinking about Steve Harrington.

Someone places their books on the table, picking the seat next to you. You don’t turn around to face whoever it is, not caring. But, when you smell his cologne, you tense up and your heart skips, you don’t need to look at him to have all these feelings rushing through you.

You look away from the window, you lean back and finally turn to look at him. He looks good, the way he always does. He is wearing a black sweater, his sleeves are pulled up, you notice a silver bracelet around his wrist, you haven’t seen before. His knuckles are healed, no bruises litter his skin any longer but there’s a scar that hasn’t been there before. You wonder what he told her when he sported the bruises on his knuckles and on his temple.

He doesn’t say anything, he just flashes you a small smile and looks away when the teacher walks in.

Why does he sit here? Why next to you?

You force yourself to look away too. You hate the beating of your heart. You hate the way you feel when you smell his cologne, the stupid smell of Farrah Fawcett spray, you hate the way it feels to be so close to him.

You try to focus on class, you try to write down notes, you try to think about anything but him beside you.

Steve has other plans though when he slides his notebook over to you after scribbling something on the blank page.

You turn to look at him with a questioning gaze but he is not looking at you, he is looking at the blackboard, pretending to listen to Mrs Jones.

You look down at the notebook.

‘Hi’. He wrote with a smile next to it.

You can’t help but snort quietly.

He smiles to himself, narrowing his eyes to look at you.

You take your pen, shaking your head as you write a ‘hey’ before you slide it back to him.

He glances at the teacher before he begins writing. Mrs Jones isn’t paying attention to you, the elderly woman is too busy writing on the blackboard as she taps her heel against the ground.

You bounce your knee, pressing your lips together as you look at anything but him. You dig your nails into your palms as you wait in anticipation. When he slides the notebook back to you, you glance at him for a moment before you look down.

‘How are you?’

You wonder if it is a conversation starter or a genuine question but, when you find him looking at you with a soft eyes, you have your answer.

‘I’m good, you?’

Steve knows it is a lie.

‘I’m okay. Can you believe that we’re graduating soon?’

You smile at him and shake your head.

‘No. Are you still becoming a basketball star?’ You write down.

You watch the way he shakes his head with a blush on his cheeks. He leans down, putting his hand on the table as he writes.

'Not good enough to be a basketball star.’

You raise your brows in question, pressing your lips together.

What happened to his confidence? You wonder.

‘You were always good enough, Steve.’

Steve stares at your words for a long moment, his brows knit together and for a second, he lets the sadness take over. He never felt good enough.

‘Not for this. Are you still becoming a stripper?’

When you read the question, a giggle bursts from your lips before you can stop it. You always used to joke about it, telling him that you would become the best stripper in town.

There is not a single strip club in Hawkins.

You clasp your hand over your mouth and your eyes widen when you realize how loud your giggle was. Everyone is now looking at you.

Steve presses his lips together, trying not to laugh.

“Is there anything you want to share with the class?” Mrs Jones asks, raising her brows at you as she stands there with her hand on her hip.

You shake your head.

Steve snorts a little when he glances at you, you are staring wide eyed at the teacher with a blush on your cheeks. Cute.

You kick his foot under the table and he has to hide his face behind his head when he laughs quietly.

“Pay attention!” Mrs Jones says, pointing at you with her finger.

You nod, “yes ma’am.”

She glares at you before she turns away.

“Asshole,” you whisper to Steve before you reach for your pen again, ignoring the prying eyes of some of the cheerleaders and of course, Tommy and Carol, you don’t have to turn around to know that they are staring.

‘No, I want to be a groupie now.’

Steve shakes his head, of course, you would say that.

He changes the topic, though it’s a mistake, a very big mistake.

Steve doesn’t know that you are haunted by memories of him.

Your birthday is soon, any plans?’

You are already struggling. Why did he have to bring this up? Why did he have to remind you of your last birthday? Why?

You stare at the words on the paper for what feels like forever. You hate your birthday, especially the last birthday.

You remember the way you felt that day, you remember the way you waited for him, thinking that he would surprise you. You didn’t want a party, you didn’t even want a cake but Heather and Chrissy had still made one for you, they spent the afternoon with you, they gave you presents, ate cake with you and offered to take you out to dinner but you said no, because you knew that he would take you out for dinner and surprise you with the locket you have told him so many times about. The locket you had seen when you passed by the little jewelry store, he was with you, he saw the way your eyes lit up when you laid eyes on it for the first time, he knew you wanted it and you thought, you really thought that he would get you the necklace. You could have bought it yourself with the credit card your dad gave you before he left but you wanted it to be something special.

Steve did not take you out for dinner that night, in fact, he didn’t spend the night with you, at all.

You want to cry just thinking about it.

You waited and waited, you sat by your window and looked out, waiting for him to finally arrive. You put on the pretty sundress that you had bought when you went shopping with Chrissy. You did your makeup and your hair the way he always liked it.

With your hands in your lap and excitement still lingering on your face, you waited.

Your eyes lit up when you saw his car pulling up to your driveway, you jumped up and rushed over to the mirror, taking one last look at yourself before you rushed down the stairs with a smile on your face.

You opened the door just as he was about to unlock it with the keys you gave him.

“Hi!” You said, unable to fight the smile off your face.

Steve was holding a small box in his hands, you thought you knew what was in there.

“Hey babe,” he said but his voice did not match your excitement.

He walked in and closed the door, handing you the box. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “happy birthday,” he said with a smile that could only be described as forced.

Your own smile began to fade a little when you noticed the disinterested look on his face, you looked down at the little box. Did he give you what you wished for? You had wondered.

“What took you so long?” You asked as you looked at the clock, it was 7pm. “I’ve been waiting for you, Stevie.”

“I was getting ready for the party.”

You furrowed your brows and looked at him in confusion as you could already feel your heart dropping.

“What party?” You mumbled, “I-I told you that I don’t want–”

“No, I know.” He said, “I know you didn’t want to throw a party, I mean Tina’s party.”

You couldn’t believe him. He knew, he knew you did not want that. He knew you wanted to spend the night alone, with him.

“I-I thought we could do something else, it’s my birthday, Steve.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, happy birthday,” he said with fake enthusiasm in his voice, “now let’s go celebrate it.”

Your shoulders slumped, you opened your mouth to speak but quickly closed it again. You stared at him in disbelief as your eyes began to well up with tears.

“But, I thought we could go out for dinner.”

He scrunched his face up, snorting, “what are we forty?” He said, “come on, get your stuff, we’re leaving.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head as you looked at him with sad eyes and a pout that always pulled at your lips, naturally.

He huffed.

“Man, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” You said with a small voice, frowning.

“Like that,” he mumbled, pointing at your frown, “that’s fucked up.”

You wanted to cry, you wanted to run upstairs and crawl under the sheets, you wanted to escape this.

“W-Well, you can go to that stupid party. I’m not going.” You pushed the box back in his hands and brushed past him, walking up the stairs as you began to remove the clips in your hair.

“Babe!” He groaned.

“You can go, Steve. I’m not feeling well anyways,” you lied and continued your way up the stairs, still hoping that he would follow you, that he would change his mind and apologize, that he would take you in his arms and kiss you, that he would take you out to dinner, that he would kiss you under the stars and put the necklace around your neck but he never did.

Just as you walked into your room, you heard the front door shutting and his car starting just moments later.

Despite how he had acted before, you didn’t expect him to leave, but he did. He left and you spent the evening alone with a bottle of Whiskey your dad left behind, you drank and you cried, missing the boy who used to protect you, who used to love you. You stayed in your dress and listened to David Bowie and then, four hours later, he came back but you wish he never did.

The memory of that night still hurts, it all hurts.

‘No, you know I don’t celebrate my birthday.’ You write down in bitterness.

Steve looks guilty, he feels awful for what he did on your last birthday. If he could turn back time and change it, he would.

You can’t help but look at him, and you see it, you see the guilt and the sadness and the anger he feels for himself but it does nothing to ease your pain. It still hurts so much.

‘Can I come over, the night before?’

It’s a tradition you have had since you were children. He would always sneak into your room and give you his presents at midnight. He didn’t do it last year. Why now? You are no longer friends, you are no longer a couple, you are not even acquaintances at this point.

Are you a fool for saying ‘yes’? Maybe. Do you care? No. Apparently, he still has you wrapped around his finger.

He smiles at you and closes the notebook when the bell rings. You wonder if he will throw the page away or if he will keep it. You would. You hate how giddy he still makes you feel, you hate the butterflies that still flutter in your stomach, why won’t they die?

You leave the classroom together but neither of you say anything, you just glance at each other before you go separate ways, he flashes you one last smile – his is certainly much brighter than yours, yours is still etched with pain.

You make your way towards your locker to retrieve your backpack and your jacket. Out of the corner of your eye, you see someone moving towards you and when you turn your head, you see that it’s Chrissy.

A smile tugs at your lips.

She looks determined, her eyes are set on you, she isn’t smiling and as she gets closer, you notice how nervous she looks.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” you smile, “what’s up?” You ask, curiously when she still refuses to smile.

Her hands are pressed together and she looks at you with uncertainty in her eyes. She fidgets with her shaky hands.

“I-I’m ready to talk.”

You did not expect to hear that from her. It’s been weeks since she admitted to keeping something from you and not once did you pressure her to talk, you did try to reassure her that nothing could drive you away from her but she still needed time.

“You are?” You ask, looking around the crowded hallways.

She nods, licking her lips as she stares at you.

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s get out of here.” You reach for your backpack and pull the strap over your shoulder before you reach for her hand, “come on.”

You can feel how nervous she is, how clammy her hand is, how shaky it is as she grips yours tightly. It makes you a little anxious. What could possibly make her this nervous?

You leave the school and walk towards your car.

“Do you wanna go to my place?” You ask.

She shakes her head, looking down as she lets go of your hand to walk to the passenger side.

“Okay, uh, the lookout?” You ask.

“Y-Yeah.”

You nod and unlock your car, you throw your backpack in the backseat and reach for the sunglasses in your glove compartment. You glance at her, noticing how nervous she still is as she bounces her knee.

“Chris, don’t be so nervous,” you say, trying to reassure her, “if you wanna talk about your position on the cheer squad, you can absolutely have my spot as the captain,” you joke but she doesn’t laugh, she only cracks a small smile.

You figure that nothing you will say will make her any less nervous, the only thing that will help is talk about whatever is laying heavy on her heart. So, you start the car and you turn on some music, hoping that it will calm her down. You drive to the lookout, you always used to go together. Back when you had only gotten your driver license, you, Chrissy and Heather would always come up here and have a little picnic, you would take pictures of each other with your dad’s polaroid camera.

You miss those days. The simpler days.

You both get out and sit on the hood of your car, looking down at the small town you live in. From up here, it looks so much smaller than it actually is.

“I– I don’t know how to tell you,” she starts after a long few minutes of silence.

“What are you afraid of?” You ask as your take your hand in yours.

She blinks. The wind blows through her hair and she looks down to avoid your eyes.

“That you won’t be my friend anymore.”

“Chrissy,” you whisper, holding her hand tighter, “we’ve been friends since we were little kids, what makes you think that I’d stop being your friend?”

She shrugs.

“You and I, we're best friends for the rest of our lives.”

She rolls her eyes, “except you got Eddie now.”

“Eddie isn’t a girl though, I still need my girl best friends – hey, are you jealous of Eddie, is that it?” You chuckle.

Her eyes widen and she tenses up, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Her cheeks take the color of your red skirt and your smile falls as you stare at her reaction in surprise.

“I-I, no! I’m not–” She stutters and her voice gets high pitched.

“Wait, y-you don’t like Eddie do you?” You frown.

She almost looks taken aback by your question and she draws back, scrunching her face up as she shakes her head, “what!? No!”

Your shoulders slump in relief.

Her reaction is almost comical, if the circumstances were different, you would probably laugh at the twisted mouth and the disapproving look in her eyes.

“I don’t like him,” she says, shaking her head, “I don’t like people like him.”

“Oh,” you frown. Is that it? Is that what she is keeping from you? She doesn’t like Eddie? She doesn’t like your best friend? She doesn’t like his reputation and your reputation?

“N-No!” She huffs, rolling her eyes at her choice of words, “I don’t mean it like that, I don’t mean him in general, I-I mean – fuck.” Her shoulders slump and she closes her eyes when she feels the tears welling up. “I don’t like men – I don’t, I’m not into them! I like girls,” she says, quietly.

Oh.

Your lips part in surprise and your eyes widen but you finally relax and the tension in your body leaves. You were so worried about all the possibilities of what she could be hiding from you, out of all of them, you did not expect this.

She is shaking even more now and you hold her hand tighter in response.

“Chrissy,” you whisper and scoot closer to her.

When she hears your soft voice and feels your even softer touch, she manages to open her eyes again and looks at you through her tears.

“You scared me to death!” You mumble before you pull her into a hug, squeezing her tightly. “I thought you were hiding something bad!”

You hear her sniffle first and then her sigh of relief as she melts into your touch and hugs you back.

“I-I, you’re not, you don’t think it’s weird?”

You scrunch your face up and frown, “why would I think that it’s weird?” You mumble, still hugging her.

“‘Cause some people think it’s weird.”

“Fuck them,” you whisper, rubbing her back and squeezing her tightly before you pull away from her. You look at her soft features and smile, “I’m sorry you were so scared to tell me but I hope you know that I would never judge you, you’re my best friend and I’m proud of you.”

Her eyes light up and she smiles, “you are?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling.

She presses her hand to her chest as she sighs in relief again, closing her eyes.

“So, who’s the lucky girl?”

And just like that, her smile fades away again and she looks at you with the same sad eyes you saw one too many times already. This time, it doesn’t take you long to put two and two together, the signs were always there but as always, you were too blind to see them, just like you had been blind to so many other things in your life.

She was always protective of you, more so than Heather was. She was always a little giddy around you, nervous and shy. She was always more affectionate with you than anyone else.

And then you remember Carol’s words, what she said – or tried to say about Chrissy before Heather intervened.

God, you feel like a fool.

Life passes by you and you don’t even notice. Where is your mind at all the time?

Chrissy’s eyes are filled with sadness and the same fear as before, she doesn’t need to say it out loud for you to know. The look on her face confirms it all.

“Oh Chrissy.”

“I-It’s okay, y/n,” she whispers, “please don’t pity me, it’s just, it will pass.”

You tilt your head, you can’t help but look at her with the same look that lingers in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and look down at her hand.

“No, I’ll be fine, really,” she says, “just promise me that nothing will change?”

Your chest aches and it hurts to know that she is hurting because of you.

“Because that’s all that matters to me, that you are still my friend.”

“I am,” you reassure her again, “I promise.”

She nods at you, not letting her tears spill. She smiles at you again before she scoots closer to you.

“Thank you.”

You shake your head and wrap your arm around her shoulder as she leans her head on your shoulder.

“No, thank you for trusting me,” you whisper, “and for everything.”

She smiles up at you when you fix the green bow in her hair and run your fingers through her ponytail.

As the silence takes over and you both listen to birds chirping and the wind that rustles the leaves on the trees, you hold onto each other a little more tightly when she finally relaxes, knowing that she will always have you, no matter what.

And you feel the tension leaving when you realize that you had nothing to fear when it came to her and Heather.

“Hey, you know what?”

“Hmm?”

“I saw Heather making out with Billy in his car.”

“No way!” You gasp, laughing.

“Yeah! And then she acted like nothing happened!”

You giggle, cupping your hand over your mouth.

“Apparently they were high. She bought weed from that pizza guy.”

“What was his name again?” You ask, laughing.

“Uh, something weird–” she mumbles with a concentrated look on her face.

“Ar– Argyle!” You exclaim.

“Yes, Argyle!”

next chapter

tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @taintedcigs @hellfire--cult @screammunson @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @nemesis729 @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfiregirlxx @somethingvicked @chrissymjstan

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #eddie munson x reader

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