#but I have to sit here and write about the fourth of July
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Me realising I have to actually write my whole fic and not just little paragraphs in between with no context: Fuck
#I have everything planned out#but the first part is SO BORING UGH#i just want to dissect their relationship and professional lives#and write about their parallels and how they grow and change over the span of their time together#but I have to sit here and write about the fourth of July#i say this like i didnt plan out that scene and CHOOSE to write it#still#not liking it#However this is my attempt at starting a fic and actually finishing it#said fic just so happens to be long as shit and spans roughly 30-ish years#I do this to myself#and then have to audacity to complain#top gun#top gun maverick#top gun 1986#yes I know I'm writing fic for a military propaganda movie when I hate the military#and America#*sigh*#the things you give up for a hyperfixation#fanfiction#fanfic
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before we shatter â jjk [one]
genre : established relationship, idol!jungkook
word count : 6k
summary : dating an idol is fun, they said. having a family with one is fun, they said. Until you're falling face forward because of your reality. A reality where Jungkook dreams of a future and a reality where your own future is collapsed.
chapter warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature content, fluff, so much angst, smut, talks of infertility, clit sucking, fingering, Jungkook worships her, dirty talk, doggy style, reader is in so much pain i love her sm, fall vibes <33, gift giving as a love language, pussy slapping with his d, big dick energy, jungkook is desperate. that's about it please mention if i missed anything.
read part two here
a/n : based on this ask so thank you anon for coming forward and giving me a chance to write this. i also wanna mention that im no doctor so please forgive me if i didn't do the topic of infertility justice. the second part gives more clarity in their case so please be kind to wait. enjoy and im v v grateful for you. you're so loved.
When you were a child, barely five, an orange butterfly came flying outside your front door. Your mom told you about it since she saw it first causing your entire face to instantly light up like the fourth of july.
An inexplicable joy filled your whole body making your day ten times better, not that you were having a bad one. A five year old canât have a bad day whatsoever.
After you were done chasing it around, secretly hoping that it would land on your nose just the way they show on television, you had to let it go and head back inside.Â
Oddly enough the next morning you saw it again, this time it was not flapping its wings like it had last night, instead it was sitting on the window beside the door. Quiet and still.Â
You, ever so curious, had to ask your mom about it. âIt might find comfort there,â she said.Â
Up until you met your boyfriend you had spent the majority of your time wondering where your comfort place is, what is that one place where you can just be yourself and not pretend to be some stoic woman. A place which lets you cry whenever you want but also replaces those tears with wide smiles and loud giggles.Â
Turns out, itâs your boyfriendâs arms.Â
Itâs true. Jungkook with his kind, sparkly bambi eyes and bunny smile stole your damn heart a few years ago and is not willing to give it back. Although you canât complain, in a world where people canât seem to find the one for themselves, the angels up there granted you a guy every inch a gentleman. Safe to say itâs not one like one of those titular relationships you've come across.Â
Heâs your solace, a roof where you can safely just about exist.Â
He heals you.
Dating an Idol comes with several perks, the biggest one of those being dealing with the huge amount of selective criticism. You feel hurt, of course, but when youâre with Jungkook, they are nothing but words behind a pixel. A pain that only lasts momentarily.Â
This pain though, is not as mundane. This one is making your stomach twist in apprehension. Youâve lost the count of how many deep breaths youâve taken.
âIâm afraid this is a case of infertility miss _____â the doctor says, earning your attention.
Youâre not able to form a word, however that does nothing to stop your subconscious mind from screaming, I knew it.
Being stupid enough to think you were well prepared to hear her say this, you mustered up the courage to enter the four walled white space which, at that time, didnât feel as narrow as it does now. Itâs almost as if itâs closing up on you.
Only after you sat before the woman in white coat and bad news, did you realize how gut wrenching this actually feels.
You face her with a weak smile, one that doesnât actually reach your eyes, âAre- are you sure youâre not mistaken?âÂ
Dr. Ana leans forward, resting her forearms on the table. The move itself tells you more than you need to. âMiss _____, I know itâll be hard for you to come to terms with this but I suggest you try. I would also like to tell you, and I hope Iâm not overstepping, but you can always go with adoption. The options are endless.âÂ
Your throat feels awfully dry and you gulp. âThank you uh, can I ask you for a favor?âÂ
âAnythingâ
âIf you happen to cross paths with Jungkook, please donât mention anything about this to him.âÂ
Dr. Ana flashes you a kind smile, âOf course not ____. Itâs your personal matter. I wouldnât dare.âÂ
âThanks a lot.âÂ
With one last nod you excuse yourself from her office. Your phone buzzes inside your pocket and you take it out, seeing Jungkookâs number stare up at you.Â
âHeyâÂ
âHey, my love. Are you busy?â His voice nearly brings tears to your eyes. It also brings up a question. Will he act the same towards you after you tell him where you are and what you just heard? Will his voice be filled with the same amount of excitement and affection for you?Â
âNo, honey. Iâm actually at my sisterâs place. She was craving some alone time with her husband and asked me to babysit Cocoâ
You can visualise him awing already. Jungkook has grown attached to your sisterâs daughter a little too much. His bond with Coco is just so bright it makes you wonder if they happened to be an actual father and daughter duo in the past life. Theyâre both full of beans and itâs a delight to see them both together.Â
He chimes, âAh my little Coco bean. Is she near? Let me hear my angel.âÂ
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to come up with any transitory excuse that doesnât make you run for the hills. âSheâs sleeping right now. Made me work for it but I managed to settle her downâÂ
Jungkook moans from the other side of the line and you mentally curse yourself. Not only are you lying through your teeth but also using your innocent niece as a pawn. From the day you began dating Jungkook, youâve not looked at any other man. For the first time now, you have this nagging feeling as though youâre cheating on him.Â
âWell, alright next time then. When are you coming back home?âÂ
âAs soon as they do. Do you miss me already?â I tease.
âPfft me and miss you? ImpossibleâÂ
You gasp, the audacity of this boy. âHow rude!!â
Your goofy boyfriend dares to chuckle, âI carry you with me everywhere I go, love. Itâs hard to miss someone whoâs this close to you every time of the day.âÂ
It doesnât take you long to grasp what he is referring to. The heart shaped bracelet rests proudly on his wrists and the man had refused to take it off ever since you gifted it to him. A sense of longing already creeps up in your heart, twisting it until you run out of breath.Â
Your chest expands as you fill it with much needed air, âListen, honey Iâll give you a call soon yeah? I think Coco has woken up and I must go check if she needs something,â you fake a chuckle, âYou know how she gets when sheâs irritatedâÂ
âOh yes of course. Promise to give me a call soon?âÂ
This time the smile on your face is genuine, âI promiseâÂ
âGive Coco a kiss for me. I love you.âÂ
âI love you.âÂ
Thereâs a heavy weight on your chest as soon as you hang up the call. Maybe it has always been there. So, for a couple of minutes you just stand there in the hallway of the hospital taking in the sterile smell and worrisome patients, praying that the highest power up there gives you one last chance so you could try and fix whatâs been ruined.
The commotion around you does nothing to overtake the voices in your head and sadness fires through you as you feel like youâre burning your boats. Despite all of that, you pray for one last time, this time for again being strong enough to let go.Â
Let go of your happiness.
Let go of your salvation.
Let go of your comfort.
Let go of Jungkook.
Ëŕ¨ŕ§â・Ë
You click the door shut behind you, hanging the coat on the rack. Youâre not even done turning around when a muscular arm wraps around your abdomen and youâre pulled back against a taut chest.Â
âI missed youâ his voice is muffled against your jumper.
You run your palms over Jungkookâs forearm, stopping to interlace your fingers with his.The way his hands fit with yours is adorable to you as if they were made to do so. The bracelet on his wrist is cool against your skin and you smile. âYou know whatâs funny? This guy I talked to earlier said itâs impossible for him to miss meâÂ
He rests his chin on top of your shoulders, cheeks warm against yours. He has grown out a stubble which makes him look manlier for some reason and you canât stop caressing it with your fingers whenever you cup his face.
âYouâre talking to other guys?â If you hadnât known Jungkook better than himself, you would have missed the pout of his lips when he said that.Â
You turn your face and place a sloppy kiss on his cheekbones, âOnly my favourite guy in the whole world.âÂ
He breaks out in a toothy grin and holds your gaze. âYouâre my favourite girl too but I think you already know that.âÂ
You nod but the pang of guilt is still lingering in your heart. âStill love hearing it.âÂ
Jungkook releases you from his embrace and walks back, rounding the kitchen counter until heâs holding up a large bowl. âReady for our fall ritual?âÂ
Jungkook and you have been using your mumâs recipe to bake chocolate chip cookies every fall and while you enjoy baking with him, the thing that you take the most pleasure from is his face when he munches on the first cookie.
Itâs one of your favorite sights ever. It takes quite a bit of effort to bake them but hell if you wouldnât do it all over again just to see him close his eyes and moan like it is the best thing since sliced bread.Â
You join him behind the counter and look around. From the way the batter has already been prepared you suppose heâs been at it for a while. There are some chocochips in a small bowl across from you with some cranberries next to them because he knows you like them in your cookies.Â
âYou donât ever forget about the cranberries, do you?âÂ
âNope. Theyâre your favourite plus if you eat well, I can eat you wellâ ouch,â he jumps, âWhat was that for?âÂ
You offer him a glare which does nothing to stop the smile threatening to break out of your lips, âBehaveâÂ
His face inches closer to yours, âNow honey donât be acting like I didnât give you the best orgasm this morningâÂ
Oh well, how can you forget about that? Ninety nine percent of the time you love waking up in his arms while heâs the big spoon but thereâs that one percent where he wakes you up with his head between your legs, sometimes with his face under your shirt sucking on your nipples. Indissoluble passion within him. His ability to satisfy you with his mouth alone needs to be studied because god if you donât crave more and more.Â
You blink, once twice thrice, âYouâre incorrigibleâÂ
He lets out a cackle at your flustered face as you wonder when you will stop blushing like a fool around him. Itâs been years and he still makes you feel like youâre wrapped up in a ball of jitters. Jungkook leans back and straightens up. He plucks the apron from the counter before coming up behind you. âHold your hair up for meâ He demands.Â
You grab a fistful of your hair and lift them up as he settles it on your neck before tying the knot at your back. With one last kiss on the back of your neck he joins you.Â
âHow long has it been since you began making this?âÂ
âNot long ago. Thought Iâd wait for you to come back home and then continueâ
You watch him add the chocochips into the dough. His tattoos are barely visible behind the cozy sweater heâs wearing. At the risk of sounding like a hypocrite, Jungkook with his perfect physique and gorgeous face looks good in everything, more so naked, but nothing triggers your cuteness aggression more than him wearing a fluffy knitted sweater, believe it or not. One which you knitted at that.
He pulls your attention away pausing your little drooling session, âHowâs Coco bean doing?âÂ
A sudden urge of getting close to him creeps up and you sneak between the counter and him, hugging him as you nuzzle your face in his chest. He smells like cinnamon. He places a gentle kiss on the crown of your head before resting his chin there.Â
âYou smell so goodâÂ
âThanks and sheâs as chaotic as ever. Nailea bought the cutest pair of pyjamas for her,â you look up at him, âShe looked like a loaf of bread when they made her wear it.âÂ
âNo way. Should we buy her another one of those?â he pulls back, barely able to hide the excitement on his face.
âYouâre gonna spoil herâÂ
âDamn right I will and if you call this spoiling, wait till I get one of those made by me.âÂ
There it is.Â
If Jungkook wasnât so fond of children, would it have been easier for you to cope? You do realize that youâre a stoneâs throw away from losing him for once and for all. In the old days you heard somewhere that it takes a strong man to save to save himself and a great man to save another.
You want to be that brave person who saves him from lifelong loathing and regret towards you.
This turning point in your life gives you two options, one where you can hang by a thread and bite your tongue while you continue your life with him, another where you set him free. The latter one wins and you, however, lose.Â
âHey you went silent there. You okay?â He cups your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheekbones so gently you try not to cry.Â
You nod and flash him a smile. Or at least you try to smile and detach yourself from him. âPerfect. Letâs get those cookies baking shall we?âÂ
Jungkook keeps looking at you with an expression which tells you heâs trying to search for something, but you try not to give anything away. Yet.
He gives you a look, his eyes sparkling under the low light in the room,
âWait here for a second iâll be right backâÂ
âWhere are you goi-â
âJust a second. Donât moveâ His voice trails off as he goes further into the bedroom. A minute later when he comes back, thereâs nothing different about him except the sneaky smile on his face. He walks towards you and grabs you by the waist as he sits you on the counter. Your hands instantly clutch his shoulders for support.Â
âWhat is happening, baby?â You mumble, clearly in a fog.Â
He says nothing as he gets down on his knees. Taking a hold of your right leg, he places it on his thigh. You swallow.
He looks up, clashing his eyes with yours, âYou ask too many questions, do you know that?âÂ
Seconds later heâs taking something out of his jogger pocket and a cool sensation brushes your skin. You peek down, curiosity finally killing the cat as you see a silver anklet adorned by a pink stone in the middle of it embraced around your ankles.Â
His name is a whisper on your lips, âJungkookâ Â
He gets up, facing you as he stands. But not before pecking the anklet as well as your skin. His face which earlier was eerie, now entirely soft.Â
âMom sent this for you.âÂ
You donât hold back tears this time, letting them run free. You glance at the jewellery again as it shines under the light of the kitchen lamp. The pink stone glares at you as if it knows youâre not worthy of such a valuable item.Â
âItâs beautifulâ
He gently wipes the tears away,
âItâs just the beginning, love. Iâm not gonna stop until I see a band wrapped around your finger. I feel too lonely being the only one there.âÂ
You playfully smack him on the chest, a giggle slipping free. With a tired shake of your head you admit, âThis is overwhelmingâÂ
âWhat is?â he asks,
âAll of this,â you keep your gaze on him, sniffing as you continue,âYour little acts of service, your love, your presence and now this gift. I feel like Iâm taking too much not giving enoughâÂ
Your throat feels too tight, as if someone is just cutting off your air supply when you should be feeling free in his arms.Â
Jungkookâs eyebrows tense as he reaches for you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear he tries to reassure you, âDonât say that. I hate when you question your worth,â he pecks the back of your hands, âThese hands feed me, hold me when I need them to, give me warmth, gentle touchesâ,
His lips find both of your eyes next as you close them, feeling his soft lips on them,
âThese eyes tear up with happiness every time you listen to me in the studioâ,
Your ears follow next, âThese ears tolerate my snoringâ,
Then your lips, âAnd this mouth, my favourite, whispers âi love youâ to me every morning, leaves kisses on my skin, screams my name and most importantly, forms the loveliest smile when I make you happy.â His eyes are oh so gentle as he says this.Â
Youâre about to respond when his phone buzzes on the counter next to you. Your heart stops. Fuck is it Dr. Ana?
To your surprise, itâs Jiminâs number on the screen.
âPick it up, honey. It might be important.âÂ
His thumb presses on the red button as he declines the call, âIâll talk to him later. My girlfriend comes first.âÂ
Neither of you say a word as the room gets filled with a comfortable silence. The cookies are long forgotten, your eyes doing all the talking. Even if you try your hardest youâre not sure you can say anything which is remotely justifiable of what he just said to you.
Jungkook is so much more than meets the eye, heâs vulnerable, heâs empathetic, heâs loving. His eyes shine the brightest when heâs happy about something and youâre so full of contempt about the fact that eventually you will be the one to snatch away that shine. This hornetâs nest is going to ruin me, ruin him.Â
âI wanna kiss you so badâ He whispers, leaning closer but you stop him with your palms on his chest.
âWait, I-I want to talk about somethingâÂ
His voice is downright pleading when he says, âLater baby. Iâm fucking gonna die if I donât take that mouth right now. Please?â his breath touches your bare lips.Â
Feeling a flutter in your chest you nod and he leans towards you, hand cupping your lower jaw as he touches his lips to yours. Softly at first, then his pace quickens. Your hands grab his sweater as you pull him even closer, deepening the kiss. His moan echoes followed by your own as you both lose yourselves in each other. You let go of every menacing thought and just focus on the taste of his lips.Â
He pulls back slightly, taking a deep breath as he fills his chest with air. Those beautiful lips are pink and swollen from the heated kiss you just shared with him. Getting rid of the sweater, he tosses it aside as his eyes sparkle with amusement.
Without wasting any time he begins nibbling at your neck, slightly biting onto it as your hands run over his back. Heâs so beautiful it takes your breath away. Not to toot your own horn but you have the most gorgeous boyfriend and youâre not ashamed to show him off.Â
His lips ghost over your nipples from over your high neck top and you groan.
âJungkook, pleaseâÂ
He pulls back with a smug look on his face, âPlease what ____?âÂ
âPlease fuck me. I need your cock so bad.âÂ
âYeah? Is that what my girl wants?âÂ
At this point your body is thrumming with anticipation and desire as you watch him move his hands closer to the waistband of your pants. His hands pause when they meet the lace material, his pupils dilate.Â
He smiles, âItâs the one I gifted you. Were you hoping for this huh?âÂ
Your lips stretch into a smile. You hadnât particularly hoped for this, no, because your relationship with him is not just based on physical pleasures. You guys have sex of course, but itâs not the prominent part of the bond you share. Itâs more than that. The lace lingerie set was gifted to you by Jungkook on a random day. It was one of those quote unquote just because gifts.Â
âWhat do you think?â you ask, giving him a quick kiss.Â
He grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you there for a moment before leaning back and looking straight into your eyes. âI think you should lose it or else Iâll ruin itâÂ
You gasp, swatting him on the bicep. âDonât you dare. Itâs my favourite pairâ Â
Without preamble he picks you off the counter making you wrap your legs around his waist. You both are so close it takes your breath away. Chest to chest, groin to groin, face to face with lips inches away from each otherâs as you share a breath.Â
He walks into your shared bedroom as you clash your lips against his, pulling his lower one between yours, earning a groan out of him. You both are downright feral, letting your hands run over every area of each otherâs body. Jungkookâs hands grabbing your ass, yours pulling on his hair lightly before trailing down his chest, pausing on his pecs.Â
When you reach your bedroom, he sits himself down with you on top of his lap. Your hips move forward and you hiss as your still jean clad pussy brushes his cock. Heâs so hard you wonder if heâs close to coming already.Â
Rough hands scrape over your back, hips, down your thigh before they finally settle on either side of your waist, gipping them tightly but also with a hint of gentleness. One thing you admire about your man is that he doesnât treat you like a fragile woman, he knows youâre strong and youâll not break if heâs rough with you.Â
Jungkook pulls back from your lips.âFuck honey, youâre such a goddess. Look at this body. I still canât believe I get to call you mineâÂ
You shake your head, totally under his spell. âIâm the lucky one here, baby. You have no idea how lucky I am.âÂ
His hand brushes over your ass before he dips it inside your pants, reaching your already soaked pussy as he pushes a finger inside you. This earns a whimper from you as you tip your head back.Â
âThatâs where youâre wrong, ____. Want me to show you how lucky I am?â He takes the finger out before pumping it back again. You moan as his other hand gips the nape of your neck and he brings his mouth to your neck, biting on it.Â
âOh my godâ you cry, seeing him suck the finger clean and face forming an expression filled with the deepest level of satisfaction as he closes his eyes.Â
Setting his eyes back on you, he sighs, âThis isnât my first time tasting you, honey. But it gets better every fucking time and I find myself craving you an unhealthy amount, you know that? Do you know how crazy I am for you? Could eat you out everyday and wouldnât need anything else to feel full.â His words send a shiver down your spine. âYouâre my favorite meal.âÂ
He pushes three fingers back inside with a slight force and you let out a scream, arching your back. He takes one nipple into his mouth and gives it a long suck, letting it go with a loud pop.Â
âOh yes, just like that. Suck it again, babyâ You beg and he does exactly that as he takes the other sensitive bud into his mouth.Â
Youâre not sure if you have been this vocal about your needs with anyone before him. Not that you dated a lot, for a person whoâs a hopeless romantic to the core youâve always found yourself waiting for the right one. Additionally, you believed your body to be as sacred as a temple. Surely there had to be a guy somewhere who would treat it as such.
Then, enters Jungkook who not only was out of your league metaphorically but literally. He lived miles away from your place so there was not a chance you could have let anything take place between the both of you. But as they always say, the heart wants what it wants. To put it briefly, there was chemistry, a connection you didnât want to lose.
Strong fingers pump into you. In and out, in and out. âYouâre so wet. What do you say? Should I lick you clean?âÂ
âYes, ah oh my goodness thatâs sooo goodâ you toss your head back, slowly grinding against his hands.Â
He wraps an arm around your waist, lifts you off his lap and tosses you back on the bed. Keeping his eyes still locked with yours he gets rid of his jogger, letting his cock spring free.
It bobs and you lick your lips, already wanting to take it into your mouth but you know for a fact that he wouldnât let you do that, not because he doesnât want you to but because he wants to give you the highest amount of pleasure first. As he always does.Â
Jungkook lets out a shaky sigh as gives his cock a pull, his eyes running over your whole body. Up and down then back at your face again. Youâre still not fully bare in front of him while heâs standing there, all in his glory.Â
âLose the pantsâ he commands.Â
You immediately slide out of them and toss them on the floor somewhere. He grabs you by the hips, jerking you to the edge of the bed as he sinks down on his knees. Spreading your legs wider he releases a breath. Warmth touches your wet pussy and you prop yourself up by the elbows to look at him.Â
You need to look at him if you want to stay sane, have to feel him with you here. Shivers run through you even by the thought of not being able to feel him and this ever again. This might as well be your last day on this god awful planet from the way the ache in your chest keeps on increasing. It makes a home there, not letting you entirely forget about the eventualities.Â
âGod youâre dripping, honeyâÂ
âFor youâ you admit.
Hot and wet kisses are left to the inside of your thigh and your hands find the back of his head as you grip it lightly.Â
His head lifts up, his eyes finding yours, âDonât hold back,____. Grip it as tightly as you want to. I donât want any hesitations because when I fuck you, Iâm not going to be holding back. You hear me?âÂ
A desperate moan leaves you, and he rewards you by kissing your pussy. Keeping his eyes on you, he doesnât give you a chance to whine out your needs before his tongue is licking a single line up your clit.
He moans and gently tugs on your clit. âSuch a perfect cuntâÂ
You push his head against your pussy and rock forward, chasing your orgasm.Â
âFeels so good, feels so perfect, babyâ you murmur.
Just when youâre starting to feel the climax incoming, when Jungkook suddenly grabs you by the waist and flips you, so heâs lying down and youâre on top. Then, he grabs you by the back of your neck, pulling you for a heated kiss.Â
He pulls back, âSit on my face, my queenâÂ
Your eyes widen and you hesitate, but you donât want to. You wanna let go, knowing youâre lucky enough to get something like this in this lifetime, so you give in. He hoists you up by the hips, positions you over his face and pulls you down. His warm breath feels like a soft whisper against your pussy.Â
You cry out in pleasure as soon as his tongue dives deep inside you, squeezing your tits in your hands. Grinding against his face, you close your eyes and just⌠feel. Feel the heat, feel the emotions, feel the intimacy, feel the ache in your chest.
A thought crosses your head and you wonder if youâre doing something wrong, something selfish. Touching him like this and getting consumed by him feels like youâre doing nothing but ruining him.Â
He sucks on your clit with sheer eagerness and desire, pulling you further down so youâre putting your weight on his face. Concern perks up and you look down, trying not to crush him but it seems like he couldnât care less.Â
âLet go, honey. Just focus on my mouth.âÂ
Let go. God, how bad you hate those words. They feel like acid in your ears.Â
âKeep going, Jungkook. Donât you dare stopâ you cry out.Â
Soon enough youâre aching your back, cunt pulsing against his lips as you come. He swallows every single drop as if heâd die if he doesnât and leaves you in awe. You slump, letting your body relax.
Much to your amusement, he doesnât give you enough time to relax before heâs turning you over until youâre on your knees. Hot passionate kisses are placed on your sweaty back, pulling a gasp from you.Â
âWhat a fucking sight. I wish you could see how stunning you look right now and itâs all because of me, isnât it? This glistening back, this wet cunt,â he strokes a finger down your pussy, âItâs all because of me and you dare to call yourself lucky?âÂ
You catch a sight of him stroking himself over your shoulders and your breath quickens.Â
His abs are glistening with sweat and his chin still has your cum on it.Â
He smirks, âLike what you see, honeyâÂ
âYouâre beautifulâÂ
His eyes soften, letting his hands drop from his angry and already leaking with precum cock, he grabs either side of your hips and lines himself against your needy pussy. You let your head drop on the mattress and clench your fist, preparing yourself for him. He gives your cunt a slight slap with his cock before filling you in, groaning as he goes deeper.
You moan, âFuck baby. Thatâs so deep.âÂ
âYouâre so warm, honey. You feel like homeâ he thrusts again.Â
His hands grip yours, and he covers your body with his own, still thrusting inside with rough movements. His chest feels warm and safe against your back as it fills you with a deep sense of safety, protection and love.
You match every thrust of his with your own, moving your hips backwards. Your tits are getting equal attention from him as he pinches the two sensitive buds between his fingers.Â
You both chase your high with you screaming out his name and him whispering yours like a prayer. He gives in one last thrust before heâs coming inside you, his teeth biting on your shoulder. Youâre following him soon as you grip the bed sheet tighter in your fist, moaning as you come.Â
Before you collapse, he pulls you upright and lets his cock slide out of you. His fingers push his cum inside your throbbing cunt, making your stomach twist in pain.
You murmur. âI love youâÂ
His lips stretch into one of those lazy smiles you love so much. âI love you too, my precious girl. Now, do you wanna sleep or go make those cookies?â a sloppy kiss is pressed on your forehead.Â
Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you pull him on top of you, âShould we save those for later? I really wanna cuddleâÂ
He presses a soft kiss on the tip of your button nose, âSure. Let me clean you up first. You donât have to move an inch, just relax.âÂ
Minutes later heâs coming back with a bottle of water and a bowl of marshmallows. You bite back a chuckle when you look at his face. Thereâs such a deep crease between his eyebrows youâd think heâs trying to win a game of uno or something.Â
But itâs short lived when he places the items on the nightstand and gazes at you, his eyes having the same funny look they had earlier in the kitchen.You try to summon your most unbothered and good natured grin but it doesnât do shit to stop the electricity from running through your blood.Â
âWhy are you looking at me like that?â you ask, biting your lip.
An uncertain laugh slips out of him, âI donât know. Iâm- God, I really donât know but I have this weird feeling that something is not right.â He begins cleaning you up but you canât shake the feeling of nervousness and anxiety away.Â
You know for a fact that heâs right. Something is not right, in fact nothing is right.Â
He peeks at you from between your legs, âHey, what is it that you wanted to talk about?âÂ
The air whooshes out of your lungs. Should you come clean? Is it the right time?Â
You huff a tight laugh. âItâs nothing actually. Can we talk about it later?âÂ
When heâs done cleaning you up he places a small kiss on both your knees and stands up. Offering you a nod, he says, âWhenever you feel like it. Iâm not going anywhereâÂ
Yet. Heâs not going anywhere yet.Â
You grin, âI wouldnât let youâÂ
He lets a laugh slip out as he walks inside the bathroom. Then, he comes back, settles himself beside you and brings you closer by wrapping his arm around your waist. His feet find yours as he touches the anklet with them.Â
âLetâs sleep. Iâll be here when you wake upâ he promises.Â
Morning comes quickly as the sun casts its glow on your sleepy yet excited eyes. Holding out a hand, you try searching for your boyfriend next to you, but a slight sting arises in your heart when heâs not there. You open your eyes, adjusting to the sunlight.Â
Although, you hoped you did not wake up, you hoped death consumed you in your sleep because the person across from you is a total stranger. A stranger whose eyes are misty and mouth is pulled down in deep frown, a sunflower bouquet in one hand and the other one holding a blue file so tightly you can see his knuckles turning white.
Jungkook holds out the file to you, âHow long were you planning to hide this from me,____?âÂ
For the first time in your life, you hate your name. You hate how bitter it sounds coming from his mouth like this.It has always been â____, youâre my everything,â âI love you,____â, â_____, you mean the world to meâ.
Acid bubbles in your stomach at his words, and you canât help but sob. You wonder if the butterfly was preparing you for this day. If she could talk, what would she have said to you?Â
The words that leave him next might as well be daggers in your chest, "Tell me, honey. Is it the important thing you wanted to talk about but held back just to get a good fuck out of me?"
@fluttershy-vanilla @theyysam37 love you pookies. enjoy <3
#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#bts#jungkook scenario#jungkook smut#jungkook scenarios#jungkook x you#bts x reader#jungkook imagine#bts scenario#bts fanfic#bts scenarios#bts smut#bts jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook drabble#jungkook series#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook oneshot#fluff
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Choices
Jack Hughes x fem!reader
summary: jack proves that he will always choose reader, no matter what anyone has to say
notes: so, the first part of this is literally my favorite thing iâve ever written. the ending? meh. i donât hate it, but i definitely think it could have been done better, i just struggle so hard with endings đ. i also lowkey donât like the title, but literally couldnât think of a different one. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! đŤśđź
can be read as a part 2 to this fic, but can also be read by itself
request: Could you write something with Jack getting defensive/choosing her? Maybe he gets cornered by an ex flame or someone about what makes reader so special to get him to commit to a serious relationship when he didn't with her
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âAre you sure I donât need to dress up tonight? I know you said theyâre just some old family friends, but I want to make a good impression,â you question Jack, standing in front of the full-length mirror propped against the wall.
Youâre wearing a pale, yellow sundress with daisies imprinted all across the fabric. Jack insisted the Lawsons were just old friends of the family, having owned the house down the street since he was just a kid.
Since meeting Jackâs family last year, youâve been his plus one to every single trip heâs made home. At thanksgiving he brought you home for a quick, two day trip to meet his grandparents and a few pairs of aunts and uncles, before having to fly out again because of his game schedule. Around Christmas the two of you split your time, spending the actual holiday with your family, then flying to meet Jackâs family for New Yearâs activities, where you met several cousins and old school friends of Jackâs.
This year, youâre celebrating the Fourth of July in Michigan, finally getting to experience the infamous Hughes lake house. Jack was able to convince you to spend an entire month here at the large house, telling you the trip was for the Fourth festivities, but suggesting you leave a few weeks beforehand, wanting you to get the full lake house experience.
You had spent your days switching between joining his family on the large pontoon boat sitting at the end of their dock and going out on adventures with Jack alone on the pair of Jet skis Quinn had bought after his first paycheck came in during his rookie year. A few nights a week, Jack would tell you to put on something nice, showing you around the small town a few miles away from the house, taking you to each of his favorite childhood spots for dinner.
One night he had told you to put on the nicest dress you brought, then proceeded to take you to an old, beach themed bar. He sat across from you at the high top table in a collared shirt and khakis, the rest of the patrons around you in their bathing suit cover ups or shorts and t-shirts.
You scolded him, telling him you two looked like fools in there, all dressed up to eat fried seafood. He laughed, telling you the only fool in the room was him, because he was âfoolishly and wholly in love with you.â You rolled your eyes at his mushy-ness, a blush making its way to your cheeks at the same time.
That memory, however, is the reason you no longer trust Jack when he tells you to either dress up or dress down for dinners. Including tonight.
âI promise, you donât have to dress up. You could wear your bathing suit for all I care,â he calls out from the bathroom where heâs âfixingâ his hair, which usually means brushing it and then ruffling it around with his hands. âI mean, mom might not be too happy if youâre sitting at the dinner table in just a bikini, but Iâd sure enjoy the show.â
You scoff at his words, turning to go and stand in the doorway of the ensuite, crossing your arms.
âIâm being serious, J. I want to make a good impression on these people. Theyâre really good friends of your parents. Your mom was telling me how you all used to spend almost the entire summer together, constantly over at one anotherâs houses for dinner and fire talks,â you remember how excited Ellen was to be having her friends over for dinner tonight, claiming she hadnât seen them in years because of how busy their lives had gotten.
Ellen also mentioned they had a daughter around your and Jackâs age who was in with her parents for the summer. Her name is Sarah and sheâs a department director of some big advertisement company in New York. She stopped coming around as often around the same time Jack got drafted to the Devils, according to Ellen. Her job being too demanding for her to make the trip every summer.
You were excited to meet yet another person that knew Jack as a kid. You were hoping to rope a few stories out of her over the course of dinner, wanting to know as much as you can about Jackâs childhood from those around him. Sometimes you really hate the fact that you havenât known Jack his whole life. You count yourself one of the luckiest people alive to be able to share his life with him now, but youâre always picturing him growing up, wanting to know every detail of what makes Jack, Jack.
Quinn and Luke are always eager to tell you anything you want to know about Jack, from the time he wanted to be âTP manâ for Halloween and proceeded to wrap his entire body in toilet paper, wearing the empty rolls on his hands, to the time he wanted to ask his eighth-grade crush out on a date, but instead blurted out that he had to go home to massage their dadâs feet.
You always enjoyed hearing stories about him from people that werenât his mischievous brothers, though. Like when his grandma told you about the time she got home to see that Jack had rearranged her kitchen cabinets, placing everything he saw her use on a regular basis closer to where she could reach it after watching her drop her favorite mug while trying to put it away on the second highest shelf that morning. Or when his best friend from high school told you about the time Jack gave him a ride home from practice, stopping in to say hello to his parents when Jack heard his little sister crying in her room because she couldnât figure out her math homework. Jack stayed over for nearly two hours to help the little girl with her multiplication table and gave her words of encouragement the entire time.
You knew Jack was someone special, his calming energy easing your nerves from the first time you ever spoke to him. Hearing the stories that confirm heâs been this way his whole life, from the people that have known him far longer than you, though, makes you burst with so much love for the man you think your heart might actually explode one day.
âAnd Iâm being serious, Sunshine, what youâre wearing is fine and wonât change the fact that theyâre going to absolutely love you, just like everyone else does,â Jack walks over to stand in front of you.
You uncross your arms, letting them fall to your sides. Jack reaches down and takes each one of your hands into his, stepping forward slightly.
âI justâŚI care about how the people that know you view me. Itâs important to me that the people important to you know that I love you, not that Iâm just trying to ride on the back of some hot shot hockey player,â you whisper, referencing a blog post you were sent by one of your coworkers back in Jersey, asking if the girl in the picture was, in fact, you sitting on Jackâs lap in a crowded bar you went to for a post-game celebration.
The post talked about how you had been seen with Jack at a few games and were seen leaving several bars with him over the course of a few weeks early into your relationship. The blog site was a silly, hockey gossip blog, more concerned about who the players were sleeping with than any of the games themselves, but the accusation made your heart sink nonetheless. You knew you were with Jack for no reason other than you love him and he makes you feel safe, comfortable, and loved. Jack knows youâre not with him for his money, and anyone close to him knows youâre not with him for his money or fame.
He could quit hockey tomorrow and it wouldnât change even an ounce of your feelings towards him. With or without hockey, heâs still your Jack. The Jack that makes you honey lavender tea every night because he knows it helps you sleep. The Jack that somehow manages to bring you flowers after every home game, no matter how late it is. The Jack that insisted you move in with him after your lease ended because his apartment is closer to your new job, but really because he was tired of not coming home to you every night. The Jack that showed up to your graduation this spring, bringing nearly his whole team and his family, the group cheering so loud when you walked across the stage everyone in attendance laughed, the person handing you your diploma commenting âsounds like you have a few fans out there.â
Even though you know that Jack knows, and his family knows, each time you meet someone new from his life, you feel the need to prove yourself. Itâs part of the reason you were so anxious to meet his parents all those months ago. You worry that each person you meet has seen or read an article like the one you were sent. You worry theyâll think youâre not right for Jack, or that youâre only with him to get a taste of the popularity and lifestyle that comes along with his job. All you want is to show them how much you love him for him, and how you never want to leave his side.
Jack looks down at you, bringing your joined hands up to his mouth, pulling them together and kissing your knuckles.
âI promise you, no one here thinks that,â he starts, his words oozing with sincerity. âThere is not a single person that matters to me in my life more than you. And absolutely no oneâs opinion of you matters to me other than your own. Do you think youâre with me for the wrong reasons?â He asks you, waiting for you to answer him.
You shake your head no, breaking his eye contact.
âHey, look at me,â he squeezes your hands that are still resting near his mouth, bringing your eyes back to his. âThen absolutely nothing else matters, okay? I know who you are, and you know who you are. Last time I checked, weâre the only two in this relationship, so thatâs the only two people Iâll ever be looking to for opinions concerning my choices in this relationship, got it?â
You nod, a little embarrassed you were ever worried in the first place after his small speech, but still needing the hear his words nonetheless.
Youâre still looking up at him, opening your mouth to tell him how much you love him when your stomach growls between the two of you, loud enough you nearly jump back.
Jackâs eyes flicker down to your stomach and back up to your eyes, the amusement in them making the blue shade shine even brighter.
âOn that note, letâs go get you something to eat,â he chuckles, kissing your forehead before dropping one of your hands, the other still intwined with yours, pulling you out of the room behind him.
Jack led you down to the kitchen, digging around in the fridge to sneak you a snack before everyone sat down for dinner, knowing the meal wouldnât be ready for at least another hour.
After he was satisfied that you werenât going to starve, thanks to the small bowl of fruit he found, the two of you walked out to the back deck, joining everyone else.
The Lawsons had already arrived, Jim and Ellen standing on the other side of the large deck, conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Lawson separately.
Mrs. Lawson is a short, slim woman. Her hair is flawlessly styled into a âlooks lazy but really took an hourâ up do, wearing a light purple, short sleeve pleated dress that fell just above her ankles, a simple pair of sandals on her feet.
Her husband is a tall man with salt and pepper hair, wearing a matching polo shirt and khaki shorts, a pair of Hey Dude brand shoes on his feet.
As soon as the two of you walked out onto the porch, Ellen was immediately halting her conversation to introduce you to the guests.
âOh! There they are! Arenât they just dolls? Look at them!â she gushed, walking over to greet the two of you.
You smile warmly at her, your relationship with Jackâs mom almost as dear to you as your relationship with your own. The two of you were able to sit and talk with one another during the hockey game her and Jim had come into town for the first time you met them. You both were invested in the game itself, considering all three Hughes boys were on the ice that night, but the intermissions were full of conversations and stories. You left the rink that night feeling like you had gained another mother, exchanging numbers with Ellen and promising to keep in touch. You now have weekly phone calls with Ellen, her interest in your life and well being matching that of her interest in her sonâs.
âMom, we literally saw you an hour ago on the boat, calm down,â Jack tells her, earning soft smack to his chest from you.
âDonât be a grump, Jack. Sheâs telling us how good we look and you choose now to suddenly act like you donât love being told you look pretty,â you scold.
Jack looks down at you with his mouth slightly open, putting on his best fake offended face.
âSee, I told you she keeps him in check for me. Now I donât have to carry the burden all by myself anymore,â Ellen tells Mrs. Lawson, earning a laugh from the woman standing just behind her.
You and Jack continue to have a small stare down until he conceded, choosing to flash a smile at you instead, sticking his tongue out like a child and earning a small giggle from you.
âY/N, this is Deborah, but we all call her Deb. Deb, this is Y/N, my new baby girl,â Ellen breaks up yours and Jackâs moment, introducing you to Mrs. Lawson.
âHi, itâs so nice to meet you Mrs. Lawson,â you say, removing your hand from Jackâs so you could step forward and give a small, greeting hug to the woman in front of you.
âOh honey, Mrs. Lawson was my mother-in-law, please, call me Deb,â she tells you as she pulls back from the hug.
âOkay, Deb is it,â you laugh, stepping back beside Jack.
âCâmere, I need a hug from you too, Jack,â she motions Jack over to her, your boyfriend walking over to give her a slightly longer hug than you shared with her. âMy, youâve grown up, havenât you? Last time I saw you, you were just getting ready to declare yourself draft eligible. Now look at you, the real deal.â
Jack blushes as he steps back towards you, knowing how shy he gets when complimented.
He may be cocky on the ice and in interviews, but youâve learned that when it comes to the people that are close to him, Jack is extremely humble. He turns a light shade of pink any time you compliment how well he played after a game, or when his mom calls to tell him she watched his game on tv and cheered so loud she woke their cat up anytime he scored a goal.
âJust enjoy playing the game, is all,â he slips his hand back into yours. You give it a light squeeze.
âRon, quit talking golf and get over here! Come say hi to Jack and his girlfriend!â Deb turns and shouts to her husband behind her. Both Mr. Lawson and Jim leave their spot by the heating grill and walk over to join your small group.
âJack, how are ya, boy?â Mr. Lawson walks up, pulling Jack from your hold, bringing him in by his arm for what you call a âguyâ hug, each having one arm slug over the otherâs shoulders, their clasped hands trapped between their chests.
âGetting by alright. Happy to have a bit of a break. Couldnât wait to show Y/N here the ways of the lake house,â Jack motions to where you stand slightly behind him.
âOh gosh, where are my manners. Hi, sweetheart, Iâm Ron,â Mr. Lawson sticks his hand out towards you, shaking it softly.
âHi, Jackâs told me a lot about you two. Itâs nice to meet you, Mr. Lawsonâ you reference both of the Lawsons, repeating part of your greeting to Deb.
âOh, no, Mr. Lawson is my father, Iâm just Ron, dear,â he mirrors his wifeâs earlier statement, stepping over to place his arm around her waist.
You chat with the couple a bit longer, noticing after a few minutes that Quinn and Luke are nowhere to be found. Neither was their daughter Ellen had mentioned earlier.
âNot to interrupt, but where are Quinn and Luke?â you ask just as Ellen finishes telling Ron and Deb about a recent cruise her and Jim had been on.
âOh, they took Sarah out for a spin on the boat before dinner. She said she missed the water, so away they went,â Deb explains, looking over to Jack. âSheâs so excited to see you again, Jack. She always talks about wanting to get across the bridge to see a game, but you know her, a workaholic and all.â
You sense a slight rigidness in Jackâs body language at the mention of Sarah. He responds with a simple âYeah, thatâs a shame,â not offering any other words about the mystery girl.
You were confused. You had thought Ellen said the boys were friends with Sarah growing up. Why did Jack tense up when she was mentioned? Had there been some sort of falling out? Was he not excited to see her? He hadnât mentioned anything when you brought her up earlier, causing you to assume he just didnât know much about her, having lost contact after they both were busy and didnât have as much time to spend at the lake anymore.
As soon as Jack had finished speaking, you heard loud laughter coming from the long deck at the end of the houseâs yard, seeing three figures quickly approaching the porch you were standing on.
âSee, told you I could still beat you, just like when I was a kid!â you hear an unfamiliar voice call out, footsteps coming up the wooden stairs leading to the porch.
âNot fair, you didnât tell me it was a race until you were already at the end of the deck,â you recognize the voice this time, Luke uttering his words between fast breaths.
As you look towards the stairs, you see one of the most beautiful women youâve ever seen in your life step onto the porch.
She had jet black hair that fell to her mid back, perfectly pin straight. She had the greenest eyes you think youâd ever seen, and her tan skin was a shade that people usually had to be photoshopped to achieve. She was wearing a sundress similar to yours, but hers was a baby blue color, complementing her skin tone and hair perfectly. It fell right at her mid-thigh, and had a floral print running across the fabric.
âHey, everyone. Hope we didnât miss dinner,â she said, waltzing over to the wet bar to grab a bottle of water as Luke and Quinn make their way up the stairs, coming to stand a few feet from you and Jack.
âOh, not even close, honey. Youâre just in time. Your dad and Jim were just about to put the chicken on the grill,â Deb tells her daughter, beaming at her.
She walks over to join everyone, not stopping until sheâs stood right in front of Jack.
âOh, Jacky! Iâve missed you so much! Itâs been so long!â she wraps him in a hug. His arms stay pinned to his sides, his body going rigid with discomfort. You notice the looks from Quinn and Luke, confused at their wide eyes.
He coughs, causing her to detach herself from his body, but not removing her hand from his shoulders.
âWell, that hockey training sure has been good to you, hasnât it Jacky,â she continues, squeezing his biceps with a smirk before dropping her hands, completely ignoring you.
The second her hands leave his body, Jack is stepping back over to you, placing his hand on your waist.
âUhh, Sarah, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, Sarah,â Jack says, squeezing you to his side.
âOh! Youâre the new girlfriend my mom was telling me about. How sweet!â she coos, placing her hand on her chest. âJack, sheâs so pretty. But, what happened to Macey? You know, the one with the pretty blonde hair? Oh, and the absolute insane body. Seriously, I need her personal trainerâs number,â she asks, looking around at everyone.
You think about your brunette hair and know exactly what sheâs trying to do.
âNot in the picture anymore. Didnât really like the fact that she kept sticking her tongue down some Philly playerâs throat when she came to visit me during an away game,â Jack spat out, grinding his teeth.
âWhat a shame. I liked her,â Sarah waved it off, making a small pout with her lips. âBut, Iâm sure youâre great too!â she added as an after thought, flashing the fakest smile youâve ever seen.
You feel a presence step up behind you, Quinn slyly whispering âex-girlfriendâ in your ear, suddenly making Jackâs body language and her backhanded warmth towards you make sense.
âOkay, well, time to go get the food on the grill. Food will be ready in around thirty,â Jim claps his hands together, sensing the need to break up the awkward moment.
âOh great, Iâm absolutely starving,â Sarah exaggerates her last word, turning and walking towards the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen.
You stand there, not knowing how to process what just happened, Jackâs grip on you as tight as ever. You look over to Ellen, who gives you a sympathetic look.
âOh, my sweet girl,â Deb sighs and shakes her head in amusement, completely oblivious to her daughterâs fake niceness and obvious flirting with Jack. âSheâs something else, isnât she? Such a little firecracker,â she reflects, nothing but adoration in her tone and on her face.
âYeah, one that backfires into the innocent bystanders,â Quinn mumbles under his breath, earning a snort from Luke. Ellen shoots them a glare, darting her eyes towards Deb to see if she heard, but the older woman was still staring adoringly at her daughter in the kitchen through the glass doors.
Thirty minutes later, just like Jim announced, everyone was sat at the large outdoor table, food covering the large surface.
The food was amazing, the bowl of fruit from earlier long gone as you sat down to fill your plate, wanting seconds of almost everything.
âJack, will you hand me the potato salad, I swear, I canât get enough of it,â you ask your boyfriend whoâs sitting to your right.
He reaches over and grabs the bowl, scooping a spoonful on to your plate for you. âThat good? Or you want more?â
âNo, thatâs good. Gotta save room for dessert,â you tell him, picking up your fork to dig in.
Jack places his hand on your thigh, smiling over at the little happy dance you do when you scoop the potato salad into your mouth.
âOh, Iâm so full,â you hear Sarah say, raising her voice to make sure the whole table hears her. âI wish I could be like you, Y/N, Iâd love to have seconds, but I just cannot hold another bite, Iâm already so bloated as it is,â she places her hands over her stomach to emphasize. âYouâre so lucky youâve already snagged a man and donât have to worry about watching what you eat anymore.â
You stop mid-chew, her words sinking in.
You look around the table, everyone looking at you. Deb and Ron are smiling at you, not at all reacting to their daughterâs words, likely not even understanding the connotation of what she just said. Ellen and Jim are looking at Sarah, their eyebrows raised in shock. Quinn is glaring at her while Lukeâs mouth is dropped open.
Jackâs hand is digging into your thigh, his other hand closed, clenches in a tight fist on the tablet next to his glass of water.
You finish chewing your food and swallow thickly, placing your fork down and sliding your plate away from you.
âOh, no, donât stop on my account. Iâd kill to be able to be as comfortable as you are. Not having to worry about impressing anyone anymore, just being able to know youâre loved, no matter what you look like,â she continues, taking a sip of her water to hide her smirk.
You bow your head, your face a shade of red you can physically feel, refusing to meet anyoneâs eye.
Luke coughs, a faint âbitchâ heard by your ears.
âOkay, I think itâs time we clear the table for dessert, shall we,â Ellen pipes up, her own smile strained.
âGreat idea, let me help you,â Deb, either still oblivious or intentionally ignoring the hurtful nature of her daughterâs words, starts to stand.
âNo, I got it,â Jack surprises you by standing, taking everyoneâs plates and quickly stomping off of the porch.
You could feel the anger radiating off of him when Sarah was talking, probably choosing to leave the area before he said something he would regret.
âHere, let me help, too,â Sarah stands, taking a few food dishes in her hands and stepping inside behind Jack before anyone could protest.
The table is silent after she leaves. You sit there, debating on just sliding out of your seat and under the table, wanting to hide. Luke, who was sitting next to you, brings his hand over to rest on your shoulder, trying to provide some comfort.
You look over at him to see a concerned look as he mouths a silent âYou okay?â, nodding your head yes, despite the heavy feeling in your stomach.
You look up again, straight at Sarahâs parents, wondering how they can be so ignorant about their daughterâs malicious words.
You meet Ellenâs eye, seeing a sad, pleading look, begging you to forgive her with her expression. You give her a small smile, shaking your head to tell her itâs alright.
Ron is the one to finally break the silence, looking around at everyone with a genuine smile, once again proving your suspicion theyâre unaware of the shift in atmosphere.
âEllen, please tell me you made your famous cheesecake. Itâs been too long since Iâve had a slice,â he speaks, unable to read the room.
Ellen partakes in empty small talk with Deb and Ron about how she makes her cheesecake when you decided you need to go check on Jack.
âIâll be right back. Iâm gonna go help Jack,â you say flatly, standing from your seat and all but running inside, the urge to walk over and shake the Lawsons while shouting âyour daughterâs a bitch!â in their face your cue to leave the table.
You enter the kitchen, seeing the dishes both Sarah and Jack brought in littering the counter, but neither one of them was to be found in the spacious area.
You walk through the house, calling out Jackâs name softly as you pass the stairs, making your way to the small sitting room at the front of the house.
âJack, I donât get it. What does she have that I donât? What about her makes her any better than me?â you hear the sound of Sarahâs voice coming from the foyer.
âWhat the hell do you mean? Everything! She has everything you donât!â you hear Jack exclaim, stopping in your tracks.
Were they talking about you?
âJack, we were good together! We had fun. I donât understand why you ended things between us. Hell, I took a job in New York because you said you were probably going to New Jersey to play. We could have been the new it couple of New Jersey!â it was Sarahâs turn to raise her voice.
Jack shakes his head, a dry laugh making its way out of his mouth. âWhat part of I didnât want to donât you understand?â Jack spits out. âYou had fun. You chose to move to New York. You thought were good together. There was never any we in any of that.â
You can practically see the veins popping out on Jackâs forehead through his tone, even though they were out of view.
âAll you ever cared about when we were together was the fact that I was about to play professional hockey. You didnât care about me, you just cared about what I could offer you!â he shouts again. âThe fact you just admitted you cared more about being the âitâ couple more than you cared about wanting to be with me proves it.â
âWell, sue me for wanting to live the life of the rich and famous,â Sarah says, scoffing.
âSee, thatâs what Iâm talking about,â Jack huffs out. âY/N doesnât care about living the life of the rich and famous. She just wants me. She wants Jack, not âJack Hughes, star forward, number one overall draft pickâ,â he puts on his announcer voice.
âAll my life, people have only ever cared about how well I played hockey. Every coach, every teammate, every girl. They all saw me as a hockey player. They wanted me on their team, or in their bed, because they wanted what came with me: attention and popularity,â Your heart breaks at Jackâs voice, never having heard him sound so deflated before.
âHell, you introduced me to people as a future professional hockey player before you ever introduced me to them as your boyfriend,â he continues. âWith Y/N, thatâs far from the most interesting thing about me. When she first introduced me to her family, she told them I was her best friendâs brother,â he refers back to the first time you took him home to meet your family, the subject of hockey not coming up until your dad asked if he liked sports, only to berate him for not being a football player. Later that night he asked him how hockey worked. Your dad has never missed a Devils game since, either in person or on tv.
âHer favorite fun fact to tell people about me isnât a stat, or how many hat tricks Iâve scored,â he keeps going. âItâs that I love to sing Shakira when Iâm in the shower. Or that Iâm the only other person other than her dad that has ever made her laugh so hard water has come out of her nose,â Jack lightly laughs.
âHey, Y/N, everything okay-â you hear Quinnâs voice rounding the corner.
Cutting him off with a âshhhâ you place your finger on your mouth to tell him, and Luke who trails behind him, to be quiet, pointing to the sitting room where Jack and Sarah are arguing.
âSo, yeah, I would say Iâm sorry you didnât get what you wanted out of me, but Iâm not. Iâm not sorry that I broke things off with you. Iâm not sorry that I found someone that actually loves me for who I am. And Iâm not sorry that I brought the woman that I plan on marrying here with me, and you just so happened to be here too,â Jack tells her, his voice still holding a slight trace of anger.
âI am sorry that I never told my parents what really went down between us, telling them we just agreed it would be too hard and we needed to go back to being friends, because maybe they wouldnât have invited you over tonight. I am sorry that I didnât take Y/N out for dinner, trying to avoid whatâs happening right now. I am sorry that you canât begin to fathom someone can see through your forced smiles and backhanded comments, seeing how cold and rotten you really are on the inside. And I am sorry that your poor, sweet parents were given such a malicious bitch as a daughter,â He finishes.
âYou know, my mom said Ellen told her you showed her a ring, but I thought it was just a gift. Youâre really going to propose to her?â Sarah asks, annoyance clear in her voice, spitting out her last word with unmistakeable disgust.
âOf course itâs true. Bought the ring months ago, been carrying it around with me every since. Showed mom the night she met her, told her I was serious about her and that sheâs the one. I think part of me knew that from the moment I met her,â you hear Jack say, hearing the tenderness in his voice when the subject turns to you.
Your head whips over to Luke and Quinn, your eyes wide and your mouth handing open. The panicked look on their faces is all the confirmation you need to know that you heard Jack right. He bought you a ring. He bought you a ring and showed his mom. He bought you a ring and showed his mom and was going to propose to you.
Before you know what youâre doing, your body is leading you to the entryway where your boyfriend is arguing with his ex-girlfriend.
âY/N, no, wait,â Quinn tries to stop you, but itâs too late.
âYou bought me a ring?â you ask as you enter the room, seeing Jack and Sarah standing several feet apart from each other.
âOh, great, the woman of the hour,â Sarah rolls her eyes at you, throwing her arms up and letting them fall to her side.
You shoot her a glare, not at all concerned about her comments from earlier anymore.
You turn your head to Jack, whoâs face looked as panicked at Luke and Quinnâs.
âJack, you said you bought me a ring. Is that true?â you ask him, begging him to answer you.
Jack gulps, nodding his head yes.
âRightâŚâ is all you can say, trying to digest whatâs happening.
You look back and forth between Jack and Sarah, your gaze finally landing on the unimpressed one of Sarah.
âListen, I donât care what happened between you and Jack however many years ago, but I donât appreciate you coming to his familyâs house and acting like a nasty bitch to me because you got dumped and Iâm the one getting the ring,â you tell her, earning a shocked scoff from her. âSo, if you donât mind, Iâd appreciate it if you took your nasty attitude and sad insecurities out of this house and elsewhere. I have something I need to discuss with the man that chose me .â
You hear the faint snorts of Quinn and Luke behind you, while Jackâs face moves from panicked to shocked as he looks between the two of you.
âGod, you donât have to ask me twice. All of this melodrama is giving me a headache. Youâre not worth this. I can get any guy from the Knicks roster, I donât need to waste my time on hockey players anymore,â Sarah says before she storms out of the room.
You watch her go, giving her a sweet smile and a wave on her way out.
âThat wasâŚthe hottest thing Iâve ever seen you do,â Jack tells you, walking over to where you stood.
You roll your eyes at him, hitting him in the chest once he gets close enough to you.
âOw! What was that for?â Jack asks you, rubbing where you thumped him
âFor not telling me that Sarah was your ex-girlfriend when I was telling you how excited I was to meet her earlierâ you exclaim while looking up at him, poking him in the chest with each word
âI didnât want you to feel like you had anything to be worried about and get even more in your head about this dinner,â he tells you, grabbing your finger and pushing your hand down to your side.
âYeah, well a lot of good that did,â you roll your eyes, bringing your hand up to softly smack his chest again.
âGod, woman, stop hitting me!â Jack yelps again. âWhat the hell was that one for?â
âFor buying me a ring only a few months into our relationship! And then for not telling me you were going to propose, you idiot!â you exclaim, throwing your arms around.
âWell, I donât know if you know this or not, but most proposals are usually a surprise,â he tells you, grabbing your arms and holding them apart, preventing you from hitting him again.
âStill. Why would you buy it so soon into us dating, Jack? What if you ended up hating me once we hit six months, or you found out I snored and decided you didnât want to share a bed with me for the rest of your life?â you ask him, earning a laugh from your boyfriend.
âI knew that you were it from the moment I met you. Thereâs absolutely no chance of me ever getting sick of you, or hating you,â Jack tells you honestly, the intensity behind his eyes causing you to believe his words. âAlso, you do snore, and I think itâs cute, donât worry.â
You try to hit his chest again, but your arms are still being held by his hands.
âSo, is this a good time for me to say I never really liked Sarah,â Luke chimes in, reminding you that him and Quinn are standing in the entrance of the room.
âLuke, youâre such an idiot,â Quinn tells him, flicking him on the back of his curly head.
âWhat? Itâs true. I liked Y/N the second I met her, but Sarah was always just a bitch,â Luke rubs the back of his head as he speaks. âWhy do you think Quinn and I took one for the team and took the wicked witch out on the boat so we could keep her out of your hair for as long as possible?â
âThanks, Luke,â you chuckle, shaking your head.
âWell, I guess itâs time to tell mom that she knows youâre proposing,â Quinn says, looking towards Jack.
âOh, no, no one is going to know that she knows. I had this whole thing planned out, and Iâm not letting Y/N ruin her own proposal,â Jack says, finally letting go of your hands.
âDo I at least get to see the ring?â you ask him, hopeful.
âNope,â Jack shakes his head, popping the âpâ.
You huff, crossing your arms and looking at him with a pout, until you remember his words from a few minutes before.
âWait, you told Sarah you carry the ring with you everywhere, does that mean itâs here? In this house?â Jackâs face falls, eyes looking anywhere but your own.
âNoâŚâ
Your face lights up, looking towards the stairs before back at Jack, turning and making a run for your room.
âOh no, you donât!â he runs after you, catching up to you in no time.
He grabs you by your torso and swings you around, sitting you back at the bottom of the stairs as he guards them.
âNot fair, your stupid hockey speed and reflexes can shove it,â you pout again.
As you stand at the bottom of the stairs, Quinn and Luke watch the two of you, admiring how perfect the two of you are for each other.
Luke thinks back to when he decided to introduce you to his older brother, knowing he made the right decision, the two of you bringing out the best versions of the other.
And when he stands, hidden with his family as he watches his brother get down on one knee, proposing to the girl that stood at the bottom of the stairs, demanding to see her ring, he knew sneaking into Jackâs room and moving the ring to his own room was the right move, the shock on your face worth the two week long silent treatment you gave him when you found out what he had done.
#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes x you#jack hughes one shot#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes fanfic#jack hughes fanfiction#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes#new jersey devils#nhl#hockey#nhl blurb#nhl fanfic#nhl oneshot#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl players#nhl hockey#nhledit#nhl x reader#hockey fic#hockey imagine#hockey smut#hughes brothers#jh86
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hii can i have a kuroo x fem reader who is sick pls??
in kuroo's care
wc: 0.7k content warning: fluff, kuroo x reader who's sick, not proofread, my shitty writing
note: YOU FREAKING GET ME. SICK READER X KUROO WHO TAKES CARE OF YOU UGGHHHHH HE'S SO HUSBAND. HOPEFULLY U ENJOYYYY THIS SHORT SCENARIO !!!!
ŕ Ëâ,.
Waking up later than usual, your mind was so hazed and scrambled. Your forehead felt like a hot firework about to be released in the sky in the smelting humid air on the Fourth of July. Mustering all your strength to shuffle your head to turn to your left. Kuroo wasnât at your side in bed with you, heâd already left for work as he usually leaves earlier than you. You groan, feeling horribly cold as you quiver under your warm covers.Â
Occupied with promoting volleyball across the nation, Kuroo gets a phonecall from your workplace. Heâs been informed as your emergency contact, and learns that you didnât show up to work today. Kuroo furrows his brows in suspicion from hearing your work tell him about your unexplained absence. Ending the call, getting up from where he sat. Kuroo hurriedly grabs his blazer that was hanging on the back of his desk chair and calls off the rest of his day for work to see you.
Youâre laying in bed eyes shut, soundly snoozing until you heard your bedroom door open with a slight clunk. Holding his blazer over his right shoulder, his heart sinks at the sight of you laying in bed with the covers wrapped around you. Youâre overheating and struggling to breathe through your stuffed nosed. Rushing towards your side, Kurooâs hand is feeling the warm temperature all over your face.Â
âKuroo⌠is that you?â Shifting your heavy head your hoarse low voice muttered out. Through your eyelashes you see Kuroo with an expression of worry spread across his face. Youâre trying your best to keep your gaze on him as heâs feeling the heat emit from your face.
âYes, Iâm here. Why didnât you tell me youâre sick?â Looking into your eyes, whispering to prevent your head from throbbing. âHold on, let me get you a wet washcloth really quick.â
Nodding your head before he heads to the bathroom. Your eyes droop, letting your drowsiness consume you. Hearing his steps grow louder in your direction, you feel a cool dampness press against your forehead and a large hand caress your furiously warm cheek. Seeing him in the corner of your vision you avert your gaze to see what he has to say.
âIâm gonna head out to get you some medical rememdies to make you feel better, mâkay? Donât move, Iâll be back.â Heâs stepping back, grabbing his wallet out from his pants pocket. Kuroo slips on his blazer, making adjustments as he swiftly strides out of the bedroom.
At the corner of your house, Kurooâs looking at the medicine and health aisle. He picks up what he believes would be the best remedies to fight back against your cold. Reading all the colored labels that say things that best fits the description of the state youâre currently bedridden in. Scanning and paying for the items, Kuroo dashes back home knowing your sickness wouldnât get any better if he walked.
Back in your bedroom, he switched out your current washcloth for a cooler one, freshly dipped and wrang out for your warm forehead. Pulling a chair to sit next to you, heâs put all of the remedies on your side table.
Spoon in hand, pouring the thick liquid that takes shape of the utensil. In your deep slumber, you feel a cold metal prob against the opening of your mouth. You fight back against your eyes, peeking at him through your heavy eyelids, Kurooâs spoonfeeding you some bright blue cough syrup that tasted like mint.
âSay, âAhhâ and take this medicine will you? You wonât get any better if you donât open up.â Kurooâs soft silky voice cooes at you. Parting open your lips, the minty syrup enters your mouth which you swallow down feeling the cool mint drip down your throat. Putting the spoon down, heâs observing you with his mouth curved into a gentle smile. âRest up, before dinner. Iâm gonna cook you a nice warm soup to eat.â Kuroo fluffs your pillow at the sides and tucks you into bed, one last glance at you before turning off the lights to let you recover.
masterlist here
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu time skip#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu kuroo#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsuro x reader#kuroo testuro#kuroo fluff#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo tetsuro x you#kuroo tetsurĹ#kuro tetsuro#kuroo tetsuro fluff#kuroo tetsuro imagine#kuroo imagines#kuroo scenarios#kuroo x you
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Once More to See You - DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader No Outbreak AU
Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.
Summary: Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.
Word count: 2.5K
Warnings: POSSIBLY DUBCON as reader has been drinking (also tagged), P in V sex, ANGST, smut, secret relationship, praise kink, dirty talk, cream pie, heartbreak, Joel is kind of a dick, dbf!joel, au!joel, no outbreak!joel. Legal age gap (reader is early 20s, and Joel is 56). No use of Y/N. Mood board for aesthetics only; reader's features aren't specified other than Joel can pick them up.
A/N: Posting this a day late as I literally only started writing it yesterday out of nowhere. Enjoy!
Joel's annual fourth of July party was in full swing. Children were running around with sparklers, families were gathered around picnic tables laden with food, and the air was filled with music. Tommy was in control of the music, so of course, AC/DC and Lynard Skynrd had been playing all day. The smell of grilling burgers and hot dogs wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of freshly mowed grass and the tang of chlorine from the pool.
You spotted Joel near the grill, expertly flipping burgers and chatting animatedly with your dad. You felt a flutter of excitement, eager to see him after your lastâŚhangout. As you approached, he glanced your way but quickly looked away, focusing intently on the food.
"Hey, Joel," you called out, trying to sound casual despite the nervous anticipation in your voice.
"Hey," he replied, not meeting your eyes, his tone brisk. He immediately turned to your dad, asking about the game they were planning to watch tomorrow.
You hovered nearby, hoping for a chance to talk, but every time you tried to engage him, he found a way to sidestep your attempts. First, he asked another guest to grab more buns from the kitchen. Then, he excused himself to check on the drinks. Each time you approached, he either walked away or started a conversation with someone else.
Determined not to give up, you followed him to the drinks table, where he was refilling the coolers with ice and beverages. "Joel, can we talk for a minute?" you asked, keeping your voice low.
"I'm busy right now," he said curtly, not even glancing up. He continued to work, his movements tense and hurried.
Your frustration grew as the party continued. You watched him from across the yard, perched on a bench gripping your solo cup tightly as he laughed and chatted with everyone else while avoiding you like the plague. You noticed the way he stiffened whenever you were nearby, how he seemed to find any excuse to move away from you.
âHey, loner,â your friend Kayleigh slid in next to you, nudging your side. You didnât answer.
âUm⌠youâŚoka-.â
âNot right now, Kay,â you answer abruptly, standing up to get yourself another drink. You downed it in one to try and quell the unease sitting in your stomach. Although it just made you feel even more sick. Something was up.
The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow and someone had started setting up fireworks for later. Joel had just left the grill, heading toward the house with a tray of empty dishes. This was your chance. With a few more drinks in your system, you'd found the courage to quickly follow him, catching up as he reached the back door.
"Joel, we need to talk. Now," you said firmly, grabbing his arm to stop him.
He looked around, clearly uncomfortable, his eyes darting to make sure no one was watching. "Not here," he muttered.
You tailed him into the kitchen.
He began absent-mindedly washing up some dishes with his back to you.
"Alright, whatâs going on? Why have you been ignoring me all day?" you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest trying to sound confident.
âHow much have you had to drink?â He said, ignoring your question.
âNot a lot,â you retorted, heat rising up your body.
âThatâs a fuckinâ lie,â he scoffed in his southern drawl.
âOh, so I'm the bad person now, huh?â You replied a little too loudly. âIâm just some silly little girl who doesnât know anything, running around after you, wondering when you might fuck me next!â
Joel threw a dish into the sink with a loud clatter, making you jump. He turned to face you, his eyes flashing. "You think this is easy for me?" he hissed, keeping his voice low but intense.
Before you could respond, the kitchen door swung open.
"Hey, you two!" Tommy greeted cheerfully, oblivious to the tension. "Just grabbing another drink. Everything okay in here?"
"Yeah, just fine," Joel replied dryly, turning away from you to look out at the yard.
Tommy lingered momentarily, grabbing a drink from the fridge and chatting casually about the party. âWeâre settinâ the fireworks off soon,â he said smugly with a toothy grin.
âOh, great.â You feigned excitement, trying to act normal, but your heart pounded.
The moment he was gone, Joel turned to you, his eyes fixed. "We can't do this here," he said through gritted teeth.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "Then where? When? You can't just avoid me forever, Joel."
Joel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Fine. Upstairs. Now." Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed toward the stairs, tugging you along by your arm.
You struggled to keep up with him as his heavy boots marched up the stairs; the drink made coordinating your feet very difficult.
Joel turned to face you once you were in his all-to-familiar bedroom with the door closed behind you.
âThis needs to stop,â he said sternly.
Your heart dropped at his words. "Stop what? Us?"
"Yes. Us. Itâs wrong, and itâs only goinâ to end badly. For both of us." He placed his hands on his hips.
"But we make each other happy. Isnât that enough?" You said franticly.
"Itâs not that simple," his voice strained. "Your dad⌠if he ever found out⌠it would be such a mess.â
You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. "But he doesnât have to find out. Weâve been so careful. Please, JoelâŚI love you,â you sobbed as he pulled you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly as your fingers twisted in his plaid shirt. The warmth radiating from his body seeped into your bones like a cruel comfort.
"Shhh, I know, baby, itâs okay." Joel hushed, stroking your hair. âIt's just so complicated.â
âI donât careâ you pulled back, searching his eyes for any sign that he might change his mind. But all you saw was resignation.
"Please," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Don't do this."
He cupped your face in his hands. âYou deserve better than this. Better than sneakinâ around and hidinâ. You deserve someone who can give you everything.â
"But I don't want anyone else," you cried, tears streaming down your face. God, you probably looked like a blabbering mess. "I want you."
Joel closed his eyes, pain etched into his features. "And I want you, too. More than you know. But this... it ain't right, darlinâ,â and there is was; his velvet drawl reeling you in again. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, and something inside you snapped. The finality of his touch felt like a betrayal. You shoved him back with all your strength, your hands shaking with anger and hurt.
"Don't you dare!" You shouted, your voice trembling with rage. "Don't you fucking dare tell me what's right for me. You don't get to decide that."
Joel just stood there and took it.
âI wish I never fucking met you,â you muttered.
You pushed him again, harder this time. "I wish I never fucking met you!â You repeated.
Joel's expression hardened, and in an instant, he grabbed your arms, backing you up against the wall with a force that knocked the breath out of you. Your eyes were wide as his burned into you, and for a moment, you were actually scared of him. But before you could protest, he was unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. He roughly hiked up your sundress and lifted you up by the backs of your thighs.
"This is what you want?" Joel growled, his voice low and intense. "One last time, huh?"
"Joel, please...", you gasped.
Your heart raced as his lips sloppily crashed against yours. It was intoxicating; you could smell his cologne and the beer on his breath as you wrapped yourself around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to lose yourself in him. One last time.
The room spun around you, the noise from the party outside fading into oblivion as he slipped your panties to the side and entered you all at once. You took a sharp breath at the sudden stretch you were unprepared for. His movements were driven by a desperate need, forcing himself into you with a mixture of pain and pleasure as you clung to him like your life depended on it. The boom of fireworks outside was the only momentary glitter of light as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs and ass; youâd hoped to find bruises there in the morning. A flash of red, then white, then blue lit up the right side of his face."You drive me fuckinâ crazy," he leaned in to mutter against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. "I can't stop thinkinâ âbout you."
"Th-then⌠d-don't," you struggled to get your words out as he knocked the air out of you. âJ-just b-be with me..."
âAaah, fuck, whoâs got good pussy baby?â Joel growled, his voice low and rough.
"I... I do," you gasped, barely able to breathe as he thrust brutally against your cervix, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.
"Say it again," he demanded, his pace relentless. "Say it again, baby. I need to hear it."
"I do! " You screamed, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths. "I-Iâve got good pussy, Joel. Itâs all y-yours!â
"Dirty fuckinâ girl,â he spat. "Screwing your daddy's best friend." He whispered, raw and guttural, sending shivers through you. You could see the intensity in his eyes, his primal need for you. You started to be able to take him more easily as you became wet with arousal. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with equal fervour, every part of you alight with pleasure. Joelâs hands gripped you tighter, holding you in place as he pounded into you."UghâŚyes, Joel,â you moaned, nails clawing at his salt-and-pepper locks to pull his lips to yours. âl love it w-when you f-fuck me.â
âHmm, always feel so good, baby,â he pants, as his cock relentlessly slides in and out of your puffy lips. Each thrust hit that sweet spot deep within you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.
âThatâs it, baby, itâs okay, just cum for me, cum all over this cock.â
Your body trembled as you cried out his name, your pleasure shattering through you in waves. You closed your eyes tight, feeling yourself gripping every inch of him as you dug your fingers into his shoulders. Joel held you through it, his strong arms keeping you secured against him and the wall as you came apart.
He followed soon after, his release a powerful, shuddering thing that left him collapsing onto you. He emptied every last bit of him into you with a growl. Â You pushed his hair back from his sweaty forehead before he buried his face into the crook of your neck, panting for breath. He pulled out of you with a groan, releasing your legs and letting your feet find the ground again. You shuffled awkwardly, rearranging your underwear and smoothing out your dress. Joel looked away, avoiding your eyes as he did his jeans and belt back up. The silence between you was thick and heavy.
"Is this really it, then?" you asked quietly, your voice trembling as you struggled to keep your composure.
Joel sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "It has to be. We can't keep doinâ this."
You felt a surge of anger rise in your chest. "So that's it? You just use me one last time and then throw me away?"
He finally met your gaze. "Itâs not like that. I never wanted it to end this way.â
You shook your head, tears streaming down your face.
"But we canât keep playinâ childish fuckinâ games, and youâre too naive to see the damage this could cause.â
"Donât you dare put this all on me," you snapped, your voice rising. "Youâre the one who started this.â
Joel took a step back. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I canât see you again,â he said coldly.
You turned away, your heart shattering with every word he said. You couldnât bear to look at him any longer. "Fuck you, Joel,â you spat, storming toward the door. You yanked it open and stepped into the hallway.
Downstairs, the sounds of the party continued but it all sounded like you were underwater.
You moved quickly to the front door and stepped out into the night, the cool air hitting your tear-streaked face. You hugged your arms and walked quickly. The air smelt like sulphur as fireworks illuminated the sky. You didnât stop until you reached home.
The house was eerily quiet. Too quiet.
Your heart felt like it was being crushed in a vise, each breath harder to draw than the last. You could barely see through the blur of tears as you climbed the stairs, having to use your hands to steady yourself.
You reached your room and slammed the door shut, leaning against it for support. Your legs trembled, and you slid down until you was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest. You clenched your fists, trying to push down the sobs, threatening to break free. You had known the risks, known how wrong it was, but you hadn't been able to help yourself.
Fucking your dadâs best friend, what did you expect; thought youâd live happily ever after with a white picket fence?
Maybe Joel was right. Maybe you were too naĂŻve. You were fucking crazy to think this could have ended any other way.
But no one made you feel like Joel did. No one felt like Joel did. It was electric. The way he touched you, the way he made you feel alive, cherished, and understood, no one had ever come close. Joel was everything you had ever wanted and more. But now, it was all over.
A soft knock on your door. "Sweetie, can we talk?" Your dadâs voice was gentle, but you couldn't face him.
"Go away," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper.
âWondered where you were. Youâre missing the fireworks, honey.â
"Please, just leave me alone."
âHm, Joel did say you weren't feelinâ well, had too much to drink?â
How so desperately you wanted to tell your dad everything just to relieve some of the weight off of your shoulders, but how could you? How could you tell him, oh, by the way, I've been fucking your best friend behind your back for months, buts heâs just ended things and torn my heart into a million pieces? I know exactly just how many kisses fit between his eyes? I know the face he makes when he cums, and I think I can actually feel his cum leaking out of me right now?
divider credit to @kthice
*title inspired by "Once More to See You" by Mitski
#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x female reader#dbf!joel#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller one shot#tlou fanfiction#hbo joel miller#no outbreak!joel miller#tlou#tw dubcon#Joel miller
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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 22
Warnings: none. mostly fluff. slight jealousy.
Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader , Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Summary: The summer days get hotter and your feelings confuse you more and more. A day at the lake might make things better.. or worse.
Word count: 4.7k
A/N: So, I really really struggled with this chapter and spent more time rewriting it than actually writing it. I'm sorry if it seems a little scattered and rushed, I promise the next one will be better. @hellfire--cult thank you as always, you were such a big help, you always are but especially with this chapter so thank you, love
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Steve never thought that he would end up here. Working at some ice cream shop with a girl who despised him for the first few weeks. He couldnât blame her. Robin is your friend, she knows what he did to you and itâs not just that. Up until this spring, he didnât even really know who she was, she was just someone he passed by in school and didnât even bother to glance at or even acknowledge.
Now that he got to know her a little, he couldnât help but take a liking towards her. She may be snappy at times but she is.. cool. He likes her. Not in the way he liked Nancy or you. But, in a way he shouldâve liked Nancy â just as a friend.Â
He calls her friend. Robin refuses to call him that.Â
She likes to pretend that they are enemies but really, they finally get along after weeks of bickering at Scoops Ahoy. After a little incident that got them locked up in the storage room for a whole night, they got even closer â who knew that weed and a little heart to heart would get them to like each other?
Robin looks at Steve differently now, her looks arenât filled with hate or annoyance anymore â well, she still rolls her eyes and makes fun of him but itâs not the same anymore.Â
Sometimes when youâre around, she gives him pitiful looks. He canât stand it. He doesnât want or even deserve pity, not from her, not from anyone.
She is looking at him with that look right now.Â
He sighs, trying to give her somewhat of a smile before he looks down at the red solo cup in his hand. Your giggles make his heart flutter and hurt at the same time. You are sitting on one of the logs around the fire, with Eddie. His jacket is wrapped around your shoulders, your legs are thrown over his thigh, you are practically sitting on his lap. You are nodding along to something heâs saying.Â
You two are in your own little world, ignoring the rest of the people around you. Itâs hard to tell what the two of you are. Every day, he wonders if you have made that move yet. The one he made with you back when you went from friends to something more.Â
People are celebrating the fourth of July with a bonfire party at Lovers Lake, just like every year. In all the previous years before this one, you were by his side, giggling at something he would say, wearing his jacket, sitting on his lap.Â
Now you sit there with Eddie.Â
And it all feels so wrong, you shouldnât be there with Eddie.Â
You belong with him.Â
âAre you okay?âÂ
Robinâs voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he looks at her, nodding.Â
She tilts her head, giving him another pitiful look.Â
âYouâre not drunk, are you?âÂ
He shakes his head, chuckling softly, âno, whenever I get drunk or high I end up doing or saying something stupid.âÂ
She chuckles, though, itâs more of a sad chuckle. When they got stuck in the storage room, Steve opened up about a lot of things â things that he would have never talked about had he been sober.Â
He let her have a look inside.Â
Robin didnât think that she would ever understand Steve and why he left you. But, she understands him now, a little.Â
He was scared of how much he loved you.Â
âDo you wanna go home?âÂ
âNah, Iâm your ride, remember?âÂ
She pats his back, giving him a smile, âthatâs right, dude. You should go and have some fun.â
He snorts, shaking his head. He glances at you, not expecting to see you looking at him â staring at him. He canât read the look in your eyes but he can see the smile that tugs at your lips. You raise your hand, waving at him, shyly. Â
His eyes light up, his lips twitch.Â
Robin notices the look on his face, the happiness that takes over in an instant. She follows his gaze.Â
âDo you wanna go talk to her?â Robin asks, nudging his shoulder.
He looks at you with softened eyes. His shoulders fall when you break eye contact, turning away from him to face Eddie again.Â
âNo,â he whispers.Â
âWhy not?â Robin asks, knowing that he wants to talk to you.
âSheâs with Eddie.â
âSo? You talk to her every time they come to Scoops together.â
âThatâs different.â
âHow so?â
Steve nudges his chin towards you, âlook at them.â
Robin sighs, looking over at you and Eddie. His arm is now wrapped around your shoulder, he is smiling as you whisper something in his ear.Â
âI wonât interrupt that.â
She knows how Steve feels about you, she knows how Eddie feels about you but, what she doesnât know is how you feel about them or how you feel in general. You donât talk about your feelings, you donât know how to, every time you did try to talk about them with her, you fell into a ramble, mixing up words, stringing together sentences that would make no sense, confusing both her and yourself.Â
It wasnât always like this.Â
You used to be able to talk about your feelings. You never rambled or broke down in the middle of a sentence and she felt like you were getting better after each conversation you had.Â
Then, you went on that date with Ray and everything went downhill after that.Â
You spent so much time trying to get over the pain that Steve had caused you. You got stronger and more confident. And it seemed as though you got â or, started to get over him. It took months to get up and all it took was a night to fall back down.Â
She sighs.Â
âI get it, Steve.â
-
âCareful.â
âI am careful!âÂ
âNo, youâre not! Youâve been on this ladder unsupervised.âÂ
âSo?â
âSo? Youâre a clutz!âÂ
You roll your eyes, snorting at his words.Â
âNo, Iâm not, Eddie.âÂ
You finish taping the new Metallica poster to the wall, glancing down at him, âalright, give me the next one, please?âÂ
Eddie chuckles, he lets go of the ladder and leans down, reaching for the last poster in the box. He unrolls it and his eyes widen.Â
âHoly shit, thatâs a new Iron Maiden poster!â He gasps, staring up at you with big eyes.Â
You giggle, nodding, âI âaccidentallyâ ordered two.â
He furrows his brows.Â
âGot one extra for you.â
His eyes light up and a smile appears on his face.
âNo fucking way!â
You laugh at his little outburst.Â
âItâs in the breakroom, Iâll get it after I put this one up,â you say, pointing to the poster in his hand.Â
âYouâre the best, did I ever tell you that? In case I havenât, youâre the best, sweetheart!âÂ
He holds it out for you, grinning at you as your eyes meet.Â
You shake your head in amusement, giggling, âI think you are the best but thanks.â
He grabs the ladder again, eying you with a smile on his face.Â
To know that you thought of him while making orders for the store, to know that you got something for him, something that he didnât even ask for, makes him so happy.Â
âSo, what are we doing tonight?â You ask.Â
He watches the way you furrow your brows as you tape the poster right next to the Metallica one. You bite your lip, focusing on getting it even.Â
âUh, Iâm not sure, what do you feel like doing?âÂ
âDinner and a movie night?â You suggest, âHeather is throwing a party but I donât feel like going.âÂ
âMe neither.âÂ
âSo, dinner and movies it is.âÂ
âSounds perfect to me, babâ s-sweetheart,â he clears his throat.Â
Baby. He wanted to call you baby.Â
Your cheeks heat up. You dare to glance at him, finding him looking completely flustered. His eyes are closed, his brows are knit together and his cheeks glow red. Cute. You have to suppress a giggle.Â
âAlright, all done!â You clap your hands together after finishing hanging up the last poster. You grab the tape and the scissors, handing them to Eddie before you make your way down the ladder.Â
âCareful,â he teases you.Â
You only roll your eyes in response. You jump on the ground, looking up at him with a proud smile, âsee? Not a clutz.âÂ
You shouldnât have spoken too soon. The moment you take a step forward, you trip over the open box on the ground, stumbling forward. His hands land on your waist.
Your hands fall to his chest, your knee buckles but you donât fall, he holds you tightly.Â
âNot a clutz, huh?â He chuckles as he looks down at you.Â
âThat was an accident,â you pout, looking up into his eyes.Â
You furrow your brows, his racing heart that you feel beneath your touch pulls your attention to his chest and for the first time, you notice how much bigger he actually is, how much taller he is.Â
How did you not notice before?
âHey guys!âÂ
Robinâs panicked voice causes the both of you to flinch. You both turn to look at her, frowning in confusion when you see the way she looks between you both.Â
You slowly step away from Eddie.Â
Why is she looking at you like that? Nothing happened.
âHey,â you smile as you lean down, picking up the empty box.Â
Eddie gives Robin a questioning look, tilting his head to the side.Â
Her eyes are wide and sheâs smiling, nervously.Â
What the hell is she so nervous about?
A moment later, Steve walks into the store. Oh, right. Her new best friend, the one who gets jealous at every interaction he sees between you and him. Eddie rolls his eyes, not at him but at Robin and how protective she is of his feelings.
âOh hey,â Steve mumbles, turning to look at Robin in surprise, âyou come here on your day off?âÂ
She nods, stepping further into the store, âyep.â
âBuying new records for the car you donât have?â He teases, smirking.Â
âHa ha,â she rolls her eyes.Â
He chuckles and finally turns to face you.Â
âHey.â
You smile at him, âhi.â
Steve glances at Eddie who turns away, pretending to look around.
âSo uh, what are you two doing here?â You ask, chuckling.Â
Robin raises her brows, pointing at Eddie, âwhatâs he doing here?â
You walk behind the counter, putting the box down. You reach for the drink on the counter, lifting it up, âhe brought me coffee and lunch.â
Robin nods, tilting her head, she smiles at Eddie, âyouâre such a sweet friend, Eddie.â
He rolls his eyes at her, mumbling something under his breath before he turns away again.Â
âI uhâ I wanted to ask if you wanted to spend lunch break with me but, I see you got something already,â Steve mumbles, running his fingers through his hair as he looks down.Â
âOh, maybe next time?â You ask, trying to give him a smile.
âMaybe next timeâ sounds like a nicer version of âno, thank you.â
Steve knew that it was a mistake to come here and ask you to spend time with him, alone. But, he wanted to try.Â
âW-We can go out for lunch together⌠on Monday?â You offer.Â
His eyes light up and he looks up from the counter, he nods with a smile on his face.Â
âIâd love to.â
He smiles at you and you smile at him. Neither of you notice the annoyed look on Eddieâs face.Â
âAnd I wanted to ask if you wanna go to the lake tomorrow? You, me, Chrissy,â Robin smiles, âand your two uhââ she stops herself from saying what she actually wants to say as she gestures to Steve and Eddie, âbuddies.âÂ
Steve squints his eyes at her, âbuddies?â He whispers.Â
âItâs supposed to get super hot tomorrow,â Robin says, ignoring Steve and Eddieâs glare.Â
âUhâ sure, why not,â you shrug, âEddie, do you wanna go?â
âYeah, sure.â
You lift your brows, giving her a smile, âgreat.â
She lifts her hands, giving you two thumbs up, âgreat,â she grins, nudging Steveâs shoulder.
-
You should have known that Robin and Chrissy wouldnât be here on time â poor Steve is probably in his car waiting for them. A part of you is relieved that Eddie didnât have to pick them up though, you would still be waiting for them.Â
You and Eddie are sitting on a large picnic blanket, looking at the water as you both snack on the grapes you brought. You are still in your sundress but the longer you sit out in the sun, the more you feel like ripping it off and jumping into the cold water.Â
There arenât many people around, a few kids with their parents, some teenagers you recognize from school but you and Eddie chose to sit away from everyone else.Â
You are both quiet, enjoying each otherâs company in silence as you wait for the others.
âThey are taking so long,â you whine.
âI know,â Eddie chuckles.Â
You glance at him, he stretches his legs out and leans back, looking at you with a smile on his face.Â
âDo you wanna go swimming?â
You bite your lip, looking him up and down. You take your sunglasses off and put them on your bag.Â
âIf you come with me,â you say, giving him a sweet smile.Â
âDo you think Iâll let you swim alone? There could be monsters and shit, I gotta protect you.âÂ
You laugh, shaking your head.Â
âMonsters in Lovers Lake? The only monsters I see are those teenage boys â hold on, is that Carver?â You ask, scrunching your face up in disgust as you point at the blond who just jumped into the water, âyou might be right, there are monsters.â
Eddie chuckles, âyeah, thatâs a real monster.âÂ
You start to unbutton your dress.Â
Eddie gets up, reaching for the hem of his shirt, he pulls it over his head, throwing it on the ground, it lands with a soft thud beside you. You look at the shirt as you push the dress down to your waist, looking up at Eddie.Â
You have seen him shirtless before, countless times, actually. He is actually one of the only men you had seen shirtless â one was Steve, another one was Billy, but only because he walks around shirtless whenever he gets the chance to. Besides, he was never one that you had been attracted to. So, Billy doesnât count.Â
But you look at Eddie.
His body, his skin, his scent, different from the one you already know, the skin you traced. The freckles that are not on his skin, yet it is covered in tattoos. No sun kissed skin, yet still beautiful in its paleness. No brown luscious hair, but a messy mop of dark curls that still fall beautifully on his shoulders. Both beautiful, both different. But why are you even comparing?
âReady to go?âÂ
You snap out of your thoughts, nodding.Â
Sighing, you look down and finish taking your dress off. You press your lips together as you adjust your top.Â
You hear the sharp breath he takes, the curse word that fell from his lips, the one he tried to cover with a cough.Â
âI-Is t-that a new one?â He stutters, trying to rip his gaze away from your chest as he points to your swimsuit.Â
You feel amused by the stutter, by the blush on his cheeks and the shakiness in his voice.Â
âYes,â you giggle.Â
Eddie stares at you, at your body, at your soft skin that he is dying to touch. Your eyes that shine beneath the sunlight, the cherry red swimsuit that is hugging your body so perfectly. The way you look up at him with big eyes, parted and glossy lips. You look so gorgeous.Â
âI love it.â
Your eyes widen and you are once again blushing.Â
âThank you, Eddie.â
He looks at you, not hungrily, not in a way others have wanted you before. He looks at you like you are the most precious thing in the world.
You push yourself up, leaning closer to him, you give him a teasing smile.Â
âIâll race you to the water.â And with that, you run off, giggling when you hear him cursing.Â
âHey! Thatâs not fair!âÂ
You squeal in surprise when he catches up with you quickly, he wraps his arms around your waist, picking you up and running into the water with you. He laughs at the squeal that falls from your lips again when the cold water touches your skin.Â
âGot you,â he whispers in your ear as he holds you tightly, sinking in the water with you.Â
âItâs so cold!â You gasp, holding his forearm tightly.Â
âWanna dive, sweetheart?â He teases.Â
âNo!â You squeal as he takes you deeper into the water.Â
He chuckles when you push his hands off, putting some distance between you before you turn around to face him.Â
âYou wanna fight me?â You splash water his way.Â
âOh,â he chuckles, shaking his head, âyou wanna play that game?â He asks, splashing water back at you.Â
You nod as you walk back, suddenly feeling nervous when an evil smirk appears on his face.Â
âHow about you play the helpless victim?âÂ
âAnd you play the big bad monster?âÂ
He suddenly jumps forward, reaching for you but you quickly pull back, trying to run in the water.
âNo!âÂ
You hear his dark chuckle behind you, âwe didnât even get started!âÂ
âYouâre an evil water monater!â You giggle as you take a look at him, watching the way the few wet strands of his cling to his cheeks.Â
His eyes light up with amusement, âthe evil water monster is gonna get the pretty human.âÂ
Your giggle makes his heart flutter and his smile widens when you squeal again as his fingers brush against your wrist.Â
âI almost got you!âÂ
âLeave me alone!â You laugh, making the mistake of running into the other direction, giving him the chance to grab you. His hands grab your waist and he pulls you against him, your back is now flush against his bare chest. His fingers digging into your sides as he starts to tickle you.Â
âH-Hey!â You laugh, throwing your head back, ât-thatâs not f-fair,â you giggle, gripping his wrists but he is stronger than you. âE-Eddie!âÂ
âEddie!â He mocks, laughing.Â
You push him back, hard enough for him to lose balance and as he falls, he takes you with him, wrapping his arms around you, you both fall into the water, laughing together as you fall against his chest.
The water sloshes around you. You are both giggling as you help each other up, holding each other's hands. He pulls you into him causing you to stumble forward a little. Your free hand falls against his wet chest as his falls to your waist.Â
âHi,â you chuckle.Â
âHey,â he smiles, moving his hand up to tuck the wet strands of your hair behind your ear. Â
You look at his chest, eyeing his tattoos for a moment and then, you look up, eyes drifting to his lips.Â
His brows knit together. He watches the way you look at him. His breathing stutters when your eyes continue to stare at his lips. But you are confused and completely lost. Why? What are you thinking about?
You pull away from him when you catch yourself thinking of something that shouldnât even cross your mind.Â
Why did you even think about it?Â
Why did you have to get so close to him?
Wasnât the kiss with Steve enough?Â
Why are you trying to ruin another friendship?
You already lost Steve, you donât want to lose Eddie too.
âHey guys!âÂ
Both you and Eddie look up to find Robin running into the water, grinning at the both of you.Â
âHey!âÂ
The smile on your face is fake, Eddie can see it.Â
âTook you long enough, Buckley,â Eddie chuckles.Â
âYeah, I uhâ we stopped by the store, got some snacks,â she says with a shaky voice as she gets into the cold water.Â
âHey guys!â Chrissy yells from the spot you and Eddie picked, waving at the two of you. She sits down on the pink towel she just put on the grass next to yours.Â
âHi!â You smile, waving back at her.Â
Judging by the tanning oil in her hand, you already know that she wonât be joining you in the water.Â
Finally, you look at Steve, who seems unaware of what just almost happened. He takes his shirt off and runs his hand through his hair as he stands there in just his swim trunks, looking like some model that just walked out of a magazine. Your eyes widen as you stare at his chest.Â
Since when does he have chest hair?Â
He used to hate it and always shaved it when you were still together.Â
You stare at it without meaning to, your eyes roam his body. He changed a little, his arms are more muscular than before, his shoulders are a little broader. His hair is longer too.Â
When he looks up, you turn away, not wanting to be caught staring.Â
âRobin, can I talk to you for a moment?â Eddie asks with pleading eyes.Â
âYeah sure.â
You watch as they both step away, leaving you standing by yourself for a moment. Good, you need it. You look around, deciding to go swimming without them. You take a deep breath and walk deeper into the water, letting the coldness envelope your body. You close your eyes and you start swimming.Â
As you swim further away from the shore, the voices and the laughter from the people get lost in the distance. You hear the water sloshing, your breathing and your beating heart.Â
You stop swimming and tilt your head back, stretching your arms out as you lay on your back, letting your body float.Â
You try to not think. You try to not feel. You try to just be here and enjoy this. You enjoy the cold feeling on your skin beneath the water, the warm feeling of the sun shining down on your face.Â
For a moment, itâs so quiet out here, itâs almost eerie.
You think about the joke Eddie made. Monsters in Lovers Lake. Now that youâre out here by yourself, you canât help but think about it. Maybe there is something in the deep end.
Something could just snatch you up and pull you down. You definitely watch too many horror movies.Â
âYouâre too far out.â
Your heart leaps to your throat and you open your eyes, gasping as you clutch your chest.
âYou scared me!âÂ
Steveâs lips part, his brows furrow. You place your hand on your chest, trying to calm your breathing. He canât help but laugh as he takes in the terrified look on your face.Â
âIâm sorry,â he whispers, swimming closer to you, âdid you think about that weird lake monster that you were so afraid of when you were a kid?âÂ
âHuh â oh! O-Oh, you remember that?â You laugh.Â
He nods, âyeah, you only talked about it like every day.âÂ
You snort, rolling your eyes.Â
âI wasnât thinking about that monster.âÂ
âA different one then?âÂ
âMaybe.âÂ
He laughs, âstill scared of monsters that donât exist, I see.âÂ
âHey, you never know, something could just emerge from the water.â You swim towards him, getting closer and closer. His cheeks are a little red, water drips down from his hair, single droplets rolling down his cheeks and his lips.Â
âAnd what, snatch me up?â He chuckles, licking his lips.Â
âMhmm, maybe monsters love guys with uh that,â you giggle, pointing to his chest, âI thought you hated chest hair, Stevie.â
You always told him to stop shaving it, you always wanted to see what it would look like on him.
His cheeks heat up and he doesnât know whether itâs because of your words, the nickname or the closeness of your body.Â
âIâm trying new things,â he shrugs.Â
New things. He is trying new things. He tried new things when he dated girls before you, new hairstyles, new clothes, new music. He only ever tried new things when he was interested in someone and thought that he had to change â be better, look better.Â
âL-Like what?â
Your eyes flash with something that he struggles to read. Â
âFor girls you mean?â You ask before he can even respond to your first question. You remember what Robin told you the first time you visited them at Scoops Ahoy. âA-Are youâ do you have someone?â You ask before you can even stop those words from spilling.Â
âWhat?â He asks, shaking his head at you.Â
âNothing,â you mumble, âforget it.â Why do you even care?Â
This is none of your business. He can do whatever he wants. He can flirt as much as he wants. He can go on dates. He can have flings. He can have girlfriends.Â
You tear your eyes away from him, desperately wanting to get away when you feel your cheeks heating up but just as youâre about to swim back, you notice how loose your bikini top is suddenly feeling. You raise your hand, placing it on your chest, âshit,â you mumble when you realize that the knot came undone.Â
âW-Whatâs wrong?â Steve asks as he snaps out of his thoughts.Â
âM-My stupid bikini â the knotââ
He realizes what happened when he notices your hand on your chest as you keep your other arm stretched out so you stay afloat.Â
âCan you help me?â You ask with big eyes.Â
His heart melts at the tone in your voice and the look in your eyes.Â
âOf course,â he whispers, swimming towards you.
This isnât ideal but, he touched you before, he had seen you naked before, it wonât be weird or foreign for him to do it.Â
He swims behind you and he stares at your bare back for a moment, swallowing nervously. He takes in a shaky breath and reaches out to gather your wet hair, he brushes it to the side.Â
A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his touch for the first time again. His calloused fingers touching your bare skin. You press your lips together, and close your eyes.Â
He moves closer than he has to, he canât help it. He reaches for the strings of your top and he starts tying the knot, slowly. He can feel the goosebumps on your skin and he canât help but wonder if itâs because of the cold water or if itâs because of his touch â he hopes that itâs because of his touch.Â
He looks at your soft skin, wondering what it would be like to feel it on his again. He wonders what it would feel like to touch you, to have your body pressed against his. He looks at your shoulder, wishing that he could lean down and press his lips against it, pressing kisses up to your neck. His heart flutters just at the thought of it.Â
He is close, so close.Â
His fingers brush against your spine and your breath hitches in your throat. He heard it.Â
His touch feels so different from the way it used to feel. Itâs soft, gentle. Something that it never used to be. He is careful with you, he never was, not when you were still his.Â
You wonder if he ever thought that you looked beautiful.Â
You wonder if he ever craved you the way you craved him after he left.Â
Your heart starts racing the longer you feel his hands on your skin. Hands that used to be so rough on your body are now so light and caring, it makes you nervous. His hands feel familiar yet so strange and foreign.Â
Is he touching someone else with those hands now?
âThereâs no one else.â He says as though he could read your mind.
For a moment, you stop breathing.
âThereâs only one girl for me,â he whispers as he puts his hand on your shoulder, turning you around carefully so he can see you, so he can look into your eyes.Â
He felt the way you reacted to his touch. He heard the sadness and the jealousy in your voice when you had asked him those questions. He can see the look in your eyes.Â
There is still a chance.Â
There is still a chance, right?
next chapter
-
tagging friends and mutuals
@mysticmunson @taintedcigs @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpses @corrodedseraphine @succubusmunson @trashmouth-richie @take-everything-you-can @xxhellfirebunnyxx @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @nemesis729 @chrissymjstan
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington angst#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fluff#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson angst#eddie munson imagine
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Again - Colby B.
Warnings: somewhat public sex, drunk sex, best friends, fingering, cunnilingus, praise kink, oral!fem recieving, slight hair pulling, lmk if i missed one!
AN: this is my veryyy first time writing, so i apologize if itâs no good! and it was so rushed because I had no idea what to write.
ŕŠâŠâ§âË
It was a fourth of July party your friend group was throwing. Sweaty bodies dancing against each other as loud music played. Fireworks could be heard at times. You bump into multiple bodies on your way to the kitchen to receive something stronger to drink. For some people with good money, the drinks sure were cheap. They spent money on different items for the party, yet they couldnât buy drinks that didnât taste like shit.
Grabbing a red solo cup, you clambered up the counter top carelessly. You stand on top of the counter and open up a cabinet. As you took out a bottle of vodka and poured it into your cup, you heard a deep chuckle drowned by music come from behind.
âRisking your life for some vodka is kind of crazy, donât you think?â was heard behind you. Slowly pulling the cup away from your lips, that also covered half your eyesight, Colby was seen. He was leaning against the door frame. Fidgeting with his rings as his gaze was locked on yours.
You playfully role your eyes at him and take another sip, âItâsâlikeâa 3ft fall, I think iâll be fine.â Colby roles his eyes back, walking towards you. He looks up and lends you a hand, helping you down from the counter. The loud music smothered both your voices. His body stirred adjacent to you, he peered inside the cup and raised his eyebrows slightly. Something you wouldnât have noticed if his face wasnât so close to yours. âProblem?â You asked him. His eyes shifted to yours. He tilted his head slightly and mumbled a quick no.
Colby was one of your best friends. Though one time.. one time.. there was a moment between you guys. A moment where you two shared a kiss. Neither of you were sure how you got in that position, but it was something that was never spoken about. It was left to linger in the air between you. You canât lie, it was something that never ever left your mind. A memory that was engraved in your brain. It replayed over and over again every time you saw him.
Now here you were again. Drunk and not thinking straight. He was right in front of you, also drunk. His face so close to yours, you can practically feel him breathing. Suddenly, his face seemed to start getting closer.
Both your lips connected. Again. His lips were as soft as last time. But the kiss was more hot. More desperate. Colby reached down to the back of your thighs and lifted you to sit on the counter. His lips moving down to kiss your jaw, down to your neck.
âDo you know what you do to me? Do you know how many goddamn times iâve thought about that kiss? Youâre so fucking perfect.â His voice was muffled by your neck, as well as the music. He created a few purple marks.
You let out a small laugh, âYou think I havenât?â He started kissing up your jaw again, then back to your lips. His hips rolled against yours as he took a hold of your thighs to bring you to the edge of the counter, closer to him. Your tongues danced together. He slipped a hand underneath your dress, on your bare thigh, and let it linger for a moment. Silently asking for consent. When you didnât say anything, he was quick to lift your dress up to your waist.
At that moment, both of you had completely forgotten you wereâtechnicallyâin public. You guys were in the kitchen, the galley kitchen where no one was allowed, but still. Anyone couldâve walked in at any given time.
He slipped off your underwear as he sunk to his knees. Taking a look at your, already wet, cunt.
âJesus. Could you get any more perfect?â With that, he let his head dip forward and suck on your clit. His arms wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place.
âOh fuck..â You let out quietly as your back arched slightly. Hand flying to his hair as the other kept you steady on the counter. His tongue going all over your pussy. Making sure every inch was getting the attention it deserved. Licking and sucking. He let his right hand move from your thigh. Two of his fingers teased your entrance, slowly making their way inside of you. He groaned lowly as he started sucking and licking your clit. His fingers began pumping into you.
You moaned louder. Not caring about anything else; the music was too loud anyway. Your back arched and thighs shook. You started to feel that familiar knot. Colby knew that too. So he started speeding up. He looked up at you, mumbling praises as if you could hear them.
âCum for me, Sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for me. All over my face,â He said, loud enough for you to hear. It brought you over the edge. He quickly removed his fingers, that way he could taste all of you. He let you ride your high before getting up and putting his fingers in your mouth. Eyes staring at you with lust as you tasted yourself.
Heâs starting to believe he has never been that hard before.
His fingers slip out of your mouth and kissed you again. Your hands fly to unbutton his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. You break the kiss. As much as you try not to, you stared. Questioning if it would even go all the way in before it started to hurt. He grabbed your face and lifted it up.
âBe a good girl,â He said before giving you a kiss and teasing your entrance once again. This time, with his tip. Your small whine was music to his ears. He slowly thrusted inside you, letting you get used to his size. You werenât sure you ever would be. âYouâre so tight,â He groaned.
When you gave him an affirmative small nod, he thrusted slowly again and again. He took his time with you. Until he didnât. He started rocking his hips faster. Neither of you bothered hiding your moans as he fucked you. You clawed at his back, and he clawed your hips. You were more than sure there would be bruises tomorrow.
His rhythm continued even when he was close. His fingers making small circles on your clit so you could come faster, but your previous actions had gotten that covered already.
You began to feel it again. Colby kept his pace, muttering sweet nothings into your ear. One of his hands tangled up in your hair, pulling your head back so he could kiss you as he brought both of you closer to euphoria.
âSo fucking close, baby,â He groaned into your mouth. âI know you are too. Cum for me again.â After a few more thrusts, you were once again, brought to exhilaration. You arched your back into him, moaning his name loudly.
Colby groaned loudly into your ear as he coated your walls. His hips started to falter. After riding it out, he stopped. Slowly pulling out of you, he grabbed a napkin to help clean you up. He put your underwear back on and pulled your dress down. When he finished helping you, he tidied himself up as well.
âYouâre so amazing, you know that?â He whispered loud enough so you could hear. âYou did so good, Sweetheart.â His lips connected to yours once again. You couldnât help but let out a small laugh and âthank youâ.
âMaybe we should go⌠before they realize the party animal is gone.â He said as he helped you off the counter once again and his eyebrows wiggled slightly towards you.
ŕŠâŠâ§âË
#sam and colby#colby brock#tumblr#colby brock is so fine#sam golbach#ghost hunting#colby x reader#colby brock x reader#colby brock x y/n#colby brock x you#colby brock x oc#sam and colby fanfiction#sam and colby fics#colby brock fic#colby brock smut#colby brock smut fanfic#sam golbach fanfic#katrina stuart#jake webber#sam and colby smut#sam and colby fanfic#sam golback x reader#tumblog#iâm tired#this is my first time writing pls be nice#colby brock fluff
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Hi! Please take your time with everything's that's going on for you at the moment and if you don't want to write this that's absolutely fine!!
Today marks the 1 year anniversary of me getting out of an abusive relationship that lasted 6 years so it's been ups and downs today with celebrating and grief. If it's okay, can you maybe write a Buck fic where he's there for the reader (his girlfriend) whose in a similar situation? I've spent the day binge watching MOTA and I just want a cuddle from Buck aha
I completely get it if you don't want to write this because I know its pretty heavy stuff and I hope everything gets better for you soon! Enjoy that bottle of wine!!!
hi, darling! thank you for your request and I'm terribly sorry you had to wait so long because I have just checked and you sent it to me in the beginning of April 𤧠it is a quite heavy topic indeed and I hope I did it justice... Buck and Reader are married here but she had a husband before â I thought this sort of situation would suit this time period the most đ
my requests are currently closed đ
đťââď¸
Buckâs day started as usual â getting ready for work in the morning as he shaved his face, combed his hair and put the clothes on that you had ironed for him on the evening before. He walked downstairs to have breakfast and spotted a plate of scrambled eggs with bacon and a toast already waiting for him with a cup of coffee. He smiled to himself and approached you standing by the window to give you a kiss on the cheek before sitting down by the table to eat. From the corner of his eye he noticed that you were quite nostalgic and sad this morning but he didnât want to push you into telling him what was wrong because perhaps the answer was ânothingâ and you were just tired.
However, you were unusually quiet, staring out of the window with a cup of your own coffee in your hand as you watched the birds outside on the treeâs benches but the beverage was long forgotten in your hand. Buck hadnât seen you sipping on it at all and he was sure it was cold now.
âIs everything alright, love?â He asked as he raised his eyebrows at you.
âYeah, yeah,â you nodded your head with a shy smile but the look you gave him was brief and unusually unfocused as if you were trying to avoid his gaze.
Buck decided not to push you, especially now when he was before work. He decided to ask you more in the evening if your mood would still be so odd. However, when he was finishing his scrambled eggs, you suddenly opened your mouth again.
âYou know, todayâs the day⌠Itâs the anniversary of my divorce with⌠With him,â you sighed and finally took a sip of your cold coffee.
Buckâs shoulders stiffened at those words. He had no idea about the anniversary taking place today out of all days and every mention of your ex-husband felt like a punch in the guts. Not because he was jealous or something â he had no reasons to be and he knew that â but because he was aware what that man had been like and how he had been treating you.
You had been already divorced when you had met Buck and some people had been warning him about getting into a relationship with a woman âwith the pastâ but Buck had known better. He had known you and he had known âyour pastâ from you. He couldnât blame you for falling in love and he couldnât blame you for leaving a man like that son of a bitch. He hadnât known how to appreciate a woman like you, he had been taking advantage of your love and devotion.
Buck was not like that. He was patient with you, he was understanding, he was protective. He had promised to take care of you, to help you heal as you were helping him to heal after the war. It was a peaceful and cosy marriage that had lasted about a year now but he knew that the demons of your past would sometimes show up. Just like his did â they liked to come back in sudden anxiety attacks or unreasonable fear of loud things like the fireworks on the Fourth of July. They liked to come back in dreams, too â nightmares, actually.
You always knew how to comfort him, how to calm him down, to make him feel safe again. But now he felt awkward and helpless when it was his time to do the same for you. He didnât know how to react properly. Should he congratulate you? Or tell you to forget about it? Both options seemed kind of wrong.
âI see,â he only cleared his throat awkwardly before taking the last sip of coffee and standing up to approach you. He kissed your cheek again and rubbed your shoulder in a comforting manner. âI gotta go now⌠Do you want to go out somewhere nice in the evening?â He furrowed his brow. âLike a restaurant? You wouldnât have to cook today.â
âIâŚâ You hesitated. âI donât know. It would feel like celebrating and even though I have reasons to⌠I donât want to think of him at all. I want this day to be normal,â you looked at him and he nodded before pecking your lips and wishing you a good day as he left for work.
However, he knew that it was easier said than done. You would still think of your ex-husband all day long. It was inevitable and only natural. Buck felt bad for you and on his way back from work he stopped by the store and contemplated on getting you flowers. Once again he had a dilemma because it would be a nice gesture that would make you smile but on the other hand it would feel like a symbol of congratulations and a celebration. You wanted this day to be usual but you were unusually sad and quiet so he wanted to bring a smile to your faceâŚ
Walking back to the storeâs entrance door, frustrated, he walked past the alley with the toys and then he stopped at the sight of an adorable teddy bear as he suddenly got an idea. He bought it and took it home, a little nervous of how you would react.
In the meantime, you were growing impatient because he was late and the dinner was getting cold. Staring out of the window, you finally spotted your husbandâs car and you went to the hall to greet him.
âYouâre late!â You pointed out and Buck smiled at you.
âIâm sorry. I stopped by the store,â he leaned in to kiss your cheek and handed you a teddy bear.
âWhat is it?â You furrowed your brows at the soft toy in your hands. âItâs adorable but⌠Why?â
âI was thinking⌠I mean, it reminded me of you because itâs adorable, letâs start with that,â Buck chuckled. âBut also, I thought⌠I want you to have it so heâs watching over you when Iâm out at work or something, you know. And when youâre sad, you can look at him and smile, yeah?â He scratched himself behind his neck awkwardly.
Your heart swelled in your chest at his words as the corners of your eyes pricked with tears. Despite your words from the morning that you didnât want to think of your abusive ex-husband, he had been occupying your thoughts all day long. And you wished you had asked Buck to call his work and tell them he was sick, just to stay with you. But you would feel guilty if you did that. So, you spent most of the day dwelling on the past and trying to fight back the bad memories. And now, your husbandâs sweet gesture meant the world to you.
You wiped your wet cheeks and threw your arms around his neck to hold him close.
âThank youâŚâ You whispered. âThank you so much, I love you.â
âI love you, too, sweetheart. The most in the whole world,â Buck rubbed your back and kissed your temple.
âGo wash your hands and eat dinner now because itâs getting cold,â you took a step back and caressed his hair to fix the reckless hair strand.
You went to the kitchen, too and you sat the teddy bear on the window sill by the kitchen sink. He would watch over you every day as you cooked, baked or washed the dishes. You couldnât stop smiling widely at it and Buckâs heart was growing in his chest out of happiness at the sight.
Sometimes he fantasised about finding your ex-husband â wherever he was now â and teaching him a lesson or two. Not even about killing him, no; dying would be too easy for that bastard. But he knew it was not worth it. He knew you wanted to let go of the past and your ex-husband was not worth going to jail for either. But seeing you, Buck couldnât believe that someone had wanted to hurt something so lovely and pure. He just couldnât comprehend how anyone could want to cause pain to his wife.
When he was done with his dinner, he washed the dishes in silence, not even letting you know that he had already finished because youâd insist on cleaning since he was âtired after workâ. He didnât want to interrupt you reading a magazine in the living room, so he washed the dishes himself and only then he joined you on the sofa.
âYouâre done now, baby?â You looked up at him and put the magazine away to stand up.
âStay,â Buck put his hand on your thigh. âIâve already washed the dishes.â
âOh, baby, you shouldnât have! Youâre so tired after work,â you pointed out with a pout.
âIâm completely fine,â he chuckled. âCome here,â he invited you to sit on his lap, so you happily did as you crossed your hands behind his neck and he pulled you closer. âAre you happy, darling?â He asked, more seriously now.
The question left you speechless for a moment but you knew where he was coming from. The bittersweet anniversary of your divorce had been occupying his mind as well for the whole day â not only yours.
âI am,â you nodded your head and bit on your lower lip. âThe happiest,â you assured him. âBeing your wife makes me feel happy, safe, proud and fulfilled. And I would tell you if something was wrong. Like we have promised each other to be honest and open,â you caressed his hair and leaned in to rub your nose with his. âAnd one day Iâm going to have more wedding anniversaries with you than I have ever had with him and Iâm going to forget his face and his voice completely and I canât wait for that day. But perhaps I had to survive him to be able to meet you,â you shrugged your arms. âAnd just because of that, I canât regret anything from my past because everything has been leading me to you.â
Buck only nodded at that before joining your lips together in a sweet kiss. He knew what you were talking about because he would go to ten more wars and survive ten more captive camps if it meant that he would end up as your husband.
MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST
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hiii!! i love your writing, and do you think you could do one where american!reader and logan gang up on reader, but then logan "accidentally" reveals reader's crush on oscar? tysmmm <33
The Backfire
Pairing - Best Friend Logan x American!Reader x Crush!Oscar
Warnings - Fluff
Summary - Logan and y/n play pranks on their friend Oscar all the time, until one prank backfires and secrets get spilledâŚ
a/n - Letâs get it. Also donât ask questions about the half-assed pranks.
The three of you have been best friends for years, itâs no surprise really, after all youâve been racing against each other since F4, growing up in a racing community surrounded by teens; pranks are not a rarity. From small things like changing the color of someone's shampoo to making a sponge look like a brownie and giving it to Oscar after a race win.
Fast forward to the present day where you are all in F1. You couldnât really understand why it upset you so much when Oscar started to ignore you after played a harmless little prank on him, like youâve been doing for years. So what does any rational person do? They go to their best friend and bombarded them with questions. Barging your way into Loganâs driverâs room, you bang on the door until he finally answers. âYes y/n? To what do I owe the pleasure?â he says in a posh voice. âCut the crap Logan, I need to figure something out and I need your helpâ you say voice teetering on edge. He moves aside and lets you in the room, where you both sit on the couch and try to figure out whatâs going on.
âI donât know whatâs wrong with me Logan, itâs like all of a sudden after the prank he started being dry and blunt towards me. And normally Iâd just brush it off but this time it just feels different? Like my heart hurts.â You breathe out. Logan just sits there like your own personal therapist, listening to you basically confess that you have different feelings towards Oscar now. âI get like tingles when he walks by or looks at meâ you state as you notice Logan starting to drift off, âLOGAN WAKE UP!â you yell. He just looks over to you and says âI know whatâs wrong y/nâ desperate for an answer you gesture with your hands for him to get on with it.
âYou my dearest friend, have a crush on Oscarâ He lightly teases. âI most certainly do-my god maybe I do, please donât tell him!â you begged Logan. He pretended to zip his lips shut and threw you the imaginary key, like he previously just did with Oscar moments before you came in.
Oscar and Logan
âMate I canât even talk to her anymore, itâs like Iâm scared Iâll say something stupid and sheâll want nothing to do with me. You have to promise me you wonât say anythingâ Oscar begged his best friend. âOscar, would I honestly do that to you? Hell the two of you have been making googly eyes at each other for years. You have my word, lips are sealedâ Logan stated simply.
The both of you were trying to figure out a way of getting Oscar to talk to you again, you decide that maybe Logan needs to pull a prank on Oscar in hopes that he will complain to you about the shared American. Which all leads up to this master prank that you two Americans were up to, something you and Logan both missed about home was the firework shows that would be on display for the Fourth of July. Since you canât just set off fireworks because you were pretty sure that it was illegal, you decided on a glitter box. The whole idea of the box was that you would disguise it like a gift from Logan, and put it in his driverâs room and wait for him to open it after the race, then poof glitter everywhere.
In hindsight sending in Logan was probably not the best idea, seeing as the two of them were still on good terms and can get distracted and lose track of time. So here you were, waiting for Logan and hopefully Oscar in your driverâs room. You start to grow bored and decide to shut your eyes. Unbeknownst to you, something major was just shared to someone special.
Logan placed the glitter box in Oscarâs driverâs room, and attempted to sneak out but was unsuccessful. âWhat are you doing here?â Oscar says with his hands on his hips. Logan whipped his head around so fast he thought he had given himself whiplash. Stuttering out some lame excuse about leaving a gift for his best friend. Oscar not believing it for one second gave him two options, the first one being tell him what he was really doing here or open the box to prove that it indeed is just a gift and not a prank.
Logan knowing what would happen if he opened the box, and knowing what would potentially happen if he told the truth, he decided to do the right thing. âOk ok I confess, y/n and I decided to pull a prank on you with a glitter box, because she wants you to talk to her and sheâs sad that you are ignoring herâ he manages to spill out. âThereâs more to that Logan, you and I both know it, she wouldnât just be upset if I didnât text her because we are busyâ Oscar said knowingly. âUh, I, god, sheâs going to murder meâ Oscar just looked at him to continue. âShe might, maybe, most definitely has a crush on you. She told me like 10 mins after you left the other dayâ. Oscar, too stunned to speak, just left and practically sprinted to your driverâs room.Â
You wake up to someone calling your phone, and someone banging at your door? Seeing you have 10 missed calls and 7 texts from Logan, you immediately open the door thinking Logan would be standing there. Instead, you were met with a face you knew and missed all too well, âOsc- Oscar, what are you doing here?â you say shocked. âIs it true y/n? Please tell me what Logan said is trueââ he panted out because he ran all the way from McLaren to Williams. âWhatâs true? What are you on about?â you say seriously confused. âThat you like me too, and like more than just a friend. Because let me tell you, itâs been killing me for years to not be able to say anything to you about itâ Oscar pleaded. Torn between what you feel from wanting to strangle your fellow American, to wanting to just kiss Oscar, you decide to grab Oscarâs hands and hold them while you tell him the truth âYes, itâs true Oscarâ. Happy with the confession he picks you up in a hug and says âWell I guess I need to take this pretty girl out on a date hm?â You blush at the compliment. âI suppose so Piastriâ you giggle. âAbout damn time, you two,â says Logan from behind Oscar. You shoot daggers at him and then he backs off, âSo tomorrow at 7pm?â Oscar asks you, to which you nod âIâll see you tomorrow then,â you say and then peck his cheek.
#formula 1#formula one#logan sargeant#f1 fanfic#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#logan sargent x yn#logan sargent fluff
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Napoleonville [Chapter 4: The House Of Glass]
Series Summary:Â The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.
Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, koi fish, smoking, drinking, drugs, kids, parenthood, Willis Warning, impractical architecture, angst, Adventures With Aegon, historical topics including war and discrimination, let's all give a nice warm welcome to Christabel! đĽł
Word Count:Â 7.4k.
Link to chapter list (and all my writing):Â HERE.
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Itâs dawn, but youâve already been up for hours. The sky turns from indigo to embers to flames to a cool, cloudless blue; mourning doves coo, goldfinches chirp, swamp rabbits gnaw on blades of grass glittering with dewdrops like diamonds. As the vanilla bean cake bakes in the oven, you go to Cadiâs room, sit on the edge of her bed, lay a hand lightly on the indistinct knoll that is your daughter curled up beneath her Rambo-themed blanket.
You murmur as she stirs awake: âBonjour, ma cherie.â
Cadi rolls over, blinking groggily. You donât call her this often. Itâs something you picked up from Willis when you were married. You have a visionâsudden, jarring, though not entirely unwelcomeâof him pacing back and forth with Cadi in his arms, one month old, 1 a.m., Willis humming some Cajun folk song to lull her to sleep. âMom? Whatâs wrong?â
âNothingâs wrong. I called Cascade Stables, thereâs a spot reserved for you.â
âWhat? Really?!â Her face glows, Christmas lights, the Fourth of July. âBut you saidâŚhowâŚ?â
You canât take the credit. You wonât give it to Willis if itâs unearned. âActually, Aemond offered to pay. So you donât need to worry about anything. The house is fine, the car is fine. No need to sacrifice your birthday presents.â
Cadi sits upright and ponders you, enigmatic childish confusion. âMomâŚis Aemond your boyfriend?â
Well, honey, at first he was just some stranger from a kinky personal ad and then he was a delicious distraction and now I fear I might be starting to want more from him, something not so temporary, something forbidden. But I donât know who he is. âI donât think itâs quite that serious yet,â you say instead. âWould you like for him to be around more?â
She shrugs, and you recognize it not as true reluctance but rather as feigned, self-preserving indifference. âYeah. I mean, I guess so. Heâs okay.â Then she adds: âWhat happened to his face?â
âI honestly donât know. He doesnât like to talk about it.â
âMaybe he was in a war,â Cadi says, glancing down at her Rambo blanket, Sylvester Stallone armed and stern and shirtless.
âUm, yeah, maybe.â
âCan I have cake for breakfast?â
âNo, you cannot,â you say, smiling. âBut you can have some of Amirâs leftover jambalaya thatâs still in the fridge.â
âFine.â
âGet up. Get ready. Amir should be here soon, once he can watch the cakes Iâll drive you to school.â
âIf you let me stay home, I could help you bake.â
âYou definitely wouldnât help. Youâd just spend eight hours playing that Nintendo.â
Cadi grins. âProbably.â Then she rolls out of bed and shuffles towards the kitchen over the creaking, sinking floor.
~~~~~~~~~~
âOh, what the fuck,â you hiss to yourself as you park behind Willisâ sheriffâs vehicleâa Plymouth Gran Furyâwhich just so happens to be towing a 20-foot jon boat. You step outside into glaring 90-degree sunshine, slam the door of your Chevy Celebrity, and jog into the Assumption Parish Sheriffâs Office. You are carrying a white bakery box full of cherry cobbler muffins.
âHey sugar,â Willis drawls when he sees you. The holding cells are empty; the electric fans are whirring. Heather Locklear is simpering from where her poster is taped to the wall.
You throw the bakery box down onto his paper-strewn desk. âWhat the hell is that outside?â
âMy new boat,â Willis says proudly. âPicked it up first thing this morning.â
âSo you can get a new boat, but Cadi canât go to horse camp?â
He throws his arms wide, exasperated. Men love to make a habit out of being exasperated by things that should be obvious. âSheâs gonna get way more outta that boat than from spendinâ a week brushinâ horses! Weâll be fishinâ in it together âtil she starts poppinâ out her own babies. If Lake Verret ainât a puddle of oil by then. You know Iâve had three deputies resign in the past ten days? Three! Iâm bleeding manpower. I canât compete. With overtime, they can make twice as much workinâ security on the rigs.â
âI thought you voted for Reagan and his energy independence.â
âYeah, but I donât want them drillinâ in my neighborhood.â He flips open the box, grabs a muffin, and takes a huge, messy bite. Crumbs go flying everywhere.
âWell, Cadi is going to get to brush those horses after all,â you tell Willis. âSheâll be gone from June 24th to July 1st. Just so you know.â
His forehead crinkles as he chews. âWhereâd you dig up a spare $300?â
He gave me $400, actually. âA friend offered to pay. Kind of embarrassing that they stepped up instead of you.â
Willis ignores this jab. It is uncharacteristically combative of you; but youâre hot, youâre exhausted, you have a splitting headache, you still have four cakes to finish before noon tomorrow. Sweat rolls in beads down the slope of your neck, the curve of your back. It will evaporate once youâre back outside again, once the sun bakes it off you like nightmares fade in daylight. âA friend, huh?â Willis is more fascinated than annoyed. He gnaws on his muffin, contemplating you. âThe only friend I know of is Amir the Queer, and he ainât got nothinâ.â
He does; heâs just squirreling it all away for San Franscisco. âDonât call him that. Donât be a neanderthal.â
Willisâ thoughts are elsewhere. If not Amir, then who? Who? He asks, smirking: âYou got a petit ami, sugar?â
A boyfriend, he means, a beau, a lover, a partner, a suitor. Do I? âNo,â you decide. âNo, heâs just a regular friend. Really.â
Willis chomps on his cherry cobbler muffin. His smirk stretches into a grin. âSure he is.â
âOkay. You called and asked for muffins, and the muffins have been delivered. Now I gotta go. I have a hell of an order to finish for tomorrow. Which reminds meâŚâ You take the folded piece of yellow legal pad paper out of your shorts pocket and open it to read the address of the Targaryen residence. âWhere is 1066 Loch Raven Terrace? Iâve never heard of it.â
âOh, thatâs in a brand new development, real highfalutin, mansions and all. Thatâs where the Jade Dragon folks are livinâ. You gotta go way down 401 towards Lake Verret. Turn onto Owlet, then Egret, then Loch Raven.â
You snatch a blue pen out of the mug on his deskâWorldâs Best Cop, it saysâto scribble the directions down on your paper. âGreat. Thanks. Whyâd they name it that? We donât even have ravens in Louisiana.â
âMaybe they got âem back in England and the Rockefellers want to feel right at home.â
You nod. This makes sense; this is a sufficiently egotistical explanation. You check the clock on the wall; itâs almost time to get Cadi from school. âYouâre picking up Cadi tomorrow morning?â
âYeah. âRound 8:00, as usual.â
âSounds good. Iâll see you then.â
Willis asks longingly, looking nowhere in particular: âRemember when we were gonna go to Mexico for our anniversary?â
âYeah. And I remember when we didnât.â
He shrugs, perhaps regretful, mourning some hypothetical versions of yourselves. âI got busy. I got lazy.â
âWe would have ended up in the same place, Willis. It just might have taken longer.â
âSure,â he mutters, but he doesnât sound like he believes it. Heâs reaching for his second muffin as you push through the glass door and step out into the sweltering afternoon sunlight.
Twenty minutes later, youâre rolling into your driveway: windows down, cicadas screeching, a flock of pelicans flapping by overhead, Cadi singing along to Jump by Van Halen. But when you cut the engine, you catch a glimpse of something strange in your rearview mirror. You have a visitor. Heâs coasting down the driveway in his red Audi Quattro, displacing a grey wave of gravel. You and Cadi climb out of your Celebrity to greet him.
âAemond?â you say, hands on your hips, a growing involuntary smile. You werenât supposed to see him until Saturday night, until your talk about the future, a future you both disavowed before starting to get a taste for it. âWhat are you doing here?!â
âI only have a minute.â When he emerges from the Quattro, heâs dragging his neon teal duffle bag.
Cadi gasps. âMore Nintendo games?!â
Aemond chuckles and shakes his head. âSorry, not quite.â
Cadi groans dramatically and sprints off into the house, probably to devour an ungodly amount of baked goods.
âDonât eat the Capân Crunch Treats!â you shout after her. âTheyâre for a customer!â
Aemond strolls over to you, wearing jeans, a white tank top, and his Adidas sneakers. His ever-present Marlboro jacket has been forgotten. His hair is a mess, heâs touching his chin restlessly; he really does look like heâs in a rush. âHey,â he says softly, returning your smile.
You point to his duffle bag. âSo youâre not here to tie me up.â
âRegrettably, no.â
âCadi was really, really happy this morning to learn that you paid for horse camp.â
âIâm glad. Please donât mention it again.â Aemond glances to his right and spies the alligator sunbathing a few yards away, a deep swampy green and fast asleep. âOh, fuck!â He grabs your arm, pulls you to him, walks with you briskly towards the house. âYou need to get that thing turned into a purse or shoes or something.â
You laugh. âShe wonât go after you. She knows youâre bigger than she is.â
âIâm not going to take your word for it.â
In the living room, Aemond tosses his duffle bag on the couch, unzips it, and lifts out a Nikon F3 digital camera. Amir peeks out of the kitchen, flour and powdered sugar dusting his palms, his forearms, his cheeks. âWhat theâŚ?â
âI need a white wall,â Aemond says distractedly, peering around. The living room walls are pink, the kitchen is mint green, Cadiâs room is yellow, the bathroom is a pale blue. Cadi watches as he darts around the small house, sitting at the kitchen counter and chomping on a ginger molasses cookie. Then Aemond snaps his fingers, remembering. He turns to you. âYour bedroom has white walls.â
âAnd of course he knows all about your bedroom,â Amir says.
âCome with me,â Aemond orders you.
âOkayâŚ?â
âCadi too.â
You and Cadi follow Aemond into the bedroom, Amir trotting close behind to satisfy his curiosity. Aemond shows Cadi where to stand against the wall, in a spot where the lighting is good, no shadows, no cracks in the paint, no paintings or photographs. He raises the Nikon and gazes through the viewfinder with his right eye.
âAlright, here we goâŚjust from the shoulders upâŚyeah, look at me straight-on, just like thatâŚbig smile, one two three!â He takes a picture; you can hear the click. âBeautiful! Youâre Cindy Crawford! Naomi Campbell! Linda Evangelista! Letâs go againâŚâ
Cadi giggles as she poses: a few respectable smiles, a few silly faces, a few where Aemond asks her to act serious. Cadi says, with an exaggerated grimace: âLook, Iâm Mom when Daddy tries to talk to her.â Amir guffaws from the doorway.
âYour turn,â Aemond tells you, waving you over. Aemond directs you like heâs looking for excuses to touch your shoulders, your waist, your face, making minute adjustments that canât really matter. Youâre good at the serious faces, but heâs not satisfied with your smile. âNo, a real one. A real smile!â
âI am really smiling!â you protest.
Aemond lowers the camera and raises an eyebrow at you. âYou can do better. Iâve seen it.â
And suddenly, effortlessly, youâre beaming.
âThere you go,â Aemond says in approval, and snaps a few frames. âDone.â
âWhat do you need pictures of us for?â
âJust a little project Iâm working on,â Aemond says, evasive. He ventures back to the living room without further explanation.
As Aemond zips the Nikon into his duffle bag, you go to the kitchen to see how far Amir has gotten with the Targaryensâ engagement party order. In a dozen different icing colors, heâs painted wildflowersâyour favorite since you were Cadiâs ageâall over the white buttercream frosting of the vanilla bean cake. You wrap an arm around his waist, rest your head against his chest. âYouâre Picasso.â
âIâm a sad, single, four-eyes twink who lives with his Grandma.â
âYouâre the love of my life.â
He laughs and smacks a noisy kiss onto your cheek. Aemond watches, amused, thoughtful. He has that same look he had when he walked in on Cadi and Amir dancing to Kyrie, like someone studying a work of art in a museum, something beautiful but arcane, crafted by a foreign stranger whoâs been dead for centuries. You start chopping pecans for the hummingbird cake.
âOkay,â Aemond announces with a heavy sigh. âI gotta run.â
âAlready?â Cadi says, more disappointed than sheâs trying to let on.
âHeâs a very busy man,â you tell her. âHeâs an engineer. And a historian, too.â
âJust an engineer,â Aemond says, startled.
âOnly a historian would think to quiz me about Napoleon to see if I was worthy of his time.â
âYou should know something about the man your town was named after.â Aemond leans in closeâsmoke and cologne, sun and saltâand growls into your ear: âBye, Cupcake. Taste you later.â
âBye.â And you watch him leave with his neon teal duffle bag slung over one shoulder, so preoccupied you completely forget about the pecans. Your knife rests on the cutting board, your thoughts are tangled up in what you and Aemond need to talk about tomorrow. I want more than something casual. I do, I really do.
Amir whips you with a dishtowel. âHo, weâve got cakes to bake! Letâs go, letâs go!â And then he asks more sympathetically as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose: âHowâs your headache?â
âOh,â you say, only realizing it when he asked. âItâs gone now.â
~~~~~~~~~~
The driveway is long and meandering, brand new but meant to look old, cobblestones lined with meticulously manicured hedges and beasts carved out of marble: bears, dolphins, horses, dragons. On the shores of Lake Verret, out of sight of the rigs and surrounded by towering gnarled southern live oaks older than the United States, you find the Targaryen family residenceâmanor? estate? chateau?âand park your Chevy Celebrity amidst a sea of Lexuses, Audis, Porsches, Cadillacs, and Alfa Romeos. There are willowy whooping cranes tiptoeing their way across the lawn. A blue merle Great Dane, gigantic and glaring menacingly, lurks behind the white columns of the wraparound front porch.
âThat is not a house,â Amir says, gazing up at it through the windshield. âThat is a castle.â
âThat is where weâre going to make a lot of money if we can impress the Rockefellers.â
âWhoo hoo!â he cheers, climbing out of the car. âSan Fran, I hope youâre ready for me!â
Youâre dragging the coolers out of the back seat when you are descended upon by a herd of servants, dressed in black so as not to distract from the festivities, so they can fade into the backdrop, so they can become invisible. You and Amir have missed the memo. Your sundress is from Kmart: white with pink zinnias, a cheap and unextraordinary flower for an undistinguished woman from an anonymous town in one of the most impoverished states in the nation. Amir is wearing neon orange shorts and a (very tight) t-shirt from Queen��s Magic Tour that he found at a yard sale.
âThese are the cakes?â the head butler asks impatiently, a grim-faced man with salt and pepper hair and spotless white gloves.
âYeah, that box has the coconut cake, and that one has the key lime, and there are the Capân Crunch Treats, andâŚhey! Wait!â You watch helplessly as the fleet of servants ferry the boxes up the porch steps and into the house. You and Amir stare at each other as you stand abandoned on the cobblestones. âWhat do we do now?â
âDo we justâŚleaveâŚ?!â
âYou made it!â Alicent cries, sailing out of the doorway and swathed in a flowing cream-colored gown. Her large dark eyes are bright and ever-shifting, almost manic; sunlight shimmers on her auburn hair. There is music pouring out behind her, thudding but indistinct, rumbling bass, heady guitar strums. âCome inside. You simply must come in.â
âOh, we couldnât impose!â Amir says, already inching towards the house.
âIâll hear no more of that. You rescued me in my hour of need and I shall not forget it.â Alicent beckons you closer. Her smile is broad and radiant but tight, like sheâs having to remember to keep it that way, like her muscles are beginning to ache. âEnjoy some hors dâoeuvres, at least. We have shrimp cocktail, miniature quiches, vol-au-vents, clams casino, Swedish meatballs, little smokies, deviled eggs with paprika, and lots of champagne! Quickly now. There are some people Iâd like you to meet.â
Amir glances back at you as you follow him up the porch steps. âPeople, huh?â
The Great Dane stalks over to you, sniffs, growls deep and low. You freeze, not wanting to provoke it. Its eyesâmuddy greenish-brown and swimming with a cunning hostilityâremind you of an alligatorâs, not the five-footer that idles on your lawn but one of the true monsters of the bayou, old and grizzled and always hungry.
âVhagar, no!â Alicent scolds, pushing the beastâs massive muzzle away. You imagine it chomping on her hand until itâs gone: one bite, two bites, nothing left but gristle and blood. âNo! Bad dog! Go away, go!â The Great Dane reluctantly retreats, glowering from behind a column. âIâm so sorry about that. Iâm utterly mortified. Sheâs terribly unfriendly, but she doesnât bite. Usually.â
âItâs fine!â you say, heart still racing.
âShe belongs to my son. My childrenâŚtheir obsessions confound me. But as mothers, weâre powerless to stop them, arenât we?â
âI suppose so,â you reply, thinking of Cadiâs wildness, willfulness; though trying to change her would feel wrong.
âNow I certainly owe you a glass of champagne,â Alicent says, billowing like a cloud into the house, her gold heels clicking on the marble floor.
You pass through the doorway and into a vast, crowded foyer, all white and gold: a massive crystalline chandelier, oriental vases and sculptures of men you donât recognize, paintings on the wall, servants flitting around with trays of hors dâoeuvres. On one table is a tower of champagne glasses, each with a single red cherry marooned inside. Guests mingle in their sport coats and suits and taffeta and sequins, and oddly, none of them are talking about the couple whose engagement is being celebrated. They talk instead about ski trips, polo matches, oil futures, the Soviets, the Saudis, the godawful humidity in this misfortunate corner of the world that they canât wait to leave. There are stained glass windows everywhere, scenes of suns, stars, sunflowers, dragonflies, lemon trees, sand on beaches. Itâs cold, extremely cold, frigid drafts gushing from the air conditioning vents. A Dire Straits song pours not from a Panasonic boombox but from a stereo system with a pair of speakers as tall as you are, Sultans Of Swing. There is a baffling dual chorus clanging around in your skull: Nobody needs this. Iâll never be able to give my daughter anything like this.
Amir whistles as he peers around, eyes wide behind his tortoiseshell glasses. âThis place must cost a fortune to cool.â
âI Teleftaia Epithymia.â Alicent struggles with the pronunciation; she speaks slowly, effortfully. âItâs what my husband named the house. What we named the house, I mean. Itâs Greek for The Last Desire. As in, no one could possibly want anything more than what this home can offer. Isnât that poetic? Iâve fallen quite in love with it.â Still, there is that slight nervousness to everything she does, that over-eagerness to please, that restless rushing fidgeting. She wears large gold teardrop earrings that she keeps touching. âWe knew weâd have to build something here for the new project on the lake. My son is overseeing it, and heâll have to spend the next year here, at least. Itâs a big step for him. Itâs the first drilling operation heâs been given command of. And heââ
âAlicent!â A man comes striding through the crowd. He has shoulder-length pale blonde hair and is wearing a black pinstripe suit, a business suit, authoritative but not joyful. He doesnât notice you or Amir. You donât exist to him yet. âWhere the hell is the ice sculpture? You said there would be an ice sculpture.â
âItâs on its way, darling. I already called.â
âIt should be here now!â
âViserys, please.â Alicentâs voice is low, embarrassed. âThe driver got lost, you know our address is new. They stopped at a payphone and rang us and I straightened it out. Theyâll arrive any minute.â
âThey better,â the man grumbles. âItâs her familyâs crest, for Christâs sake. We need that ice dragon.â
âThis is my husband,â Alicent tells you and Amir, forced smile, pleading eyes, trying to pivot. âViserys, do you remember the wonderful people I told you about? From Hummingbird Bakery?â
âBakery?â He seems to have only a vague recollection and even less interest. His gaze is already wandering to other guests. He flashes a grin and waves at a few middle-aged men in grey suits.
âThey saved me. They were able to bake us six beautiful cakes with only two daysâ notice.â
âAnd Capân Crunch Treats,â Amir adds.
Now Viserys Targaryen does turn his attention to you, and his forehead knits into perturbed wrinkles. His cool blue eyes skate over your Kmart dress, your forearms still dotted with flour and frosting, your cheap pink flats with bows on the front. âItâs a pleasure.â Then he looks to Amirâorange shorts, too-tight shirt that stops at his navel, dogwood flower in his hairâand seems to startle a little. âAlicent, you didnât mentionâŚuhâŚheâsâŚoh well. Too late now. It canât be helped.â
You and Amir share a glance, polite smiles pasted on your faces. Alicent is abjectly horrified. âViserys, heâs extremely professional.â
âThere are the Lannisters. I must be off.â And the Targaryen family patriarch unceremoniously departs. You and Amir pretend to admire the stained glass windows. Alicent picks at the beds of her fingernails, her rings jangling against each other, her eyes misty.
Criston appears out of nowhere, wearing a white suit with a zebra print shirt underneath. Today his single earring is silver to match. He glides a hand around Alicentâs waist and leans in so close that his nose brushes her fiery hair. âWhat? What do you need?â
âThe ice sculpture peopleââ
âIâll wait outside for them,â Criston says, and departs as swiftly as he arrived.
âPlease allow me to give you a quick tour of the house,â Alicent says, recovering somewhat. âIâm so grateful for your help. And things keep happening that only make me feel more indebted.â Then she hands each of you a flute of champagne, spins on her heels, and leads you out of the foyer.
Each room is a different color. The living room is red, furniture of lush velvet and Italian leather, bookshelves tall enough to need ladders, a brick fireplace that theyâll never use. Through a pair of French doors you can glimpse a garden and a pool with a water slide. The dining room is a cheerful butter yellow. The kitchen is teal, and like all the rest of the house has stained glass windows to match; these are shaped like a cathedralâs and run all the way up to the ceiling. Servants have arrayed your cakes on the counter, each with a label handwritten in cursive and a set of knives to cut it with. A plate of Capân Crunch Treats has been tucked away back by the stove like something theyâre a little ashamed of.
Everywhere she goes, Alicent introduces you and Amir to the guests she crosses paths with. âHave you met these heavenly people from Hummingbird Bakery yet? Yes, theyâre local, true Louisianans! I see youâve already helped yourself to a slice of the key lime cake. Isnât it just fantastic?! And a gorgeous shade of green! Itâs so peculiar, you wonât believe what this sweetheart has living in her yard, a real-life alligatorâŚâ
You whisper to Amir: âAre we her pet poor people?â
âYou might be. Iâm proudly undomesticated.â
âChristabel!â Alicent shouts jubilantly as the girl scrolls into the kitchen. âThere you are, dear! Come see your cakes.â
Christabel complies, shy but agreeable, peeking out from under a shock of feathery blonde bangs. She wears gleaming diamond earrings and a very bridal white one-shoulder dress, showing quite a bit of skin; you notice that some of the other guests milling about the kitchen cast her judgmental smirks. Christabel asks Alicent, as if sheâs afraid of the answer: âHeâs not here yet?â
âYou know how busy heâs been,â Alicent says, apologetic. You think, remembering the drunk man from the holding cell: Yeah, busy committing misdemeanors. âThose rigsâŚthe S&P 500âŚanyway, heâll be home before you know it. In the meantime, let me get you a piece of cake. Youâre disappearing, love.â
Christabel skims a palm down the front of her dress self-consciously. âAlright. Just a tiny one.â Then she acknowledges you and Amir. âYou must be the masterminds then. Alicent told me all about you.â
Amir says: âAbout our excellent service and reasonable prices?â
âYes.â Christabel isnât skittish like Alicent, but thereâs a sort of pensiveness to her, an impression that she is eternally woolgathering. Now she looks at you in particular with a small, warm smile. âAnd about how beautiful you are.â
Amir laughs at your stunned expression. Me? Beautiful? And the only other person to call you that in years has been Aemond, tangled up with you on your bed in your falling-down house, and you arenât sure if that counts. âOh, um, thank you,â you manage. âI really like your dress.â
âReally? I fear people think itâs tooâŚrevealing. I liked it fine this morning when I put it on. I didnât have any notion it might not be suitable. Now Iâm feeling like an idiot.â
âNo, itâs so nice!â you say, pained for her, one misfit recognizing another. âI never would have thought there was anything wrong with it.â
Alicent gets a plate from the pile on the counter. âWhat flavor would you like, Christabel?â
âWhatever this one is.â She points to the vanilla bean cake, adorned with Amirâs frosting flowers. âIsnât it stunning, with all the colors?â
âAmir is the artist,â you say. âI love wildflowers.â
Alicent asks: âDid you have them at your wedding?â
No one bothered. No one remembered. âI wanted to.â
âWouldnât that be lovely, Christabel?â Alicent passes her a slice of vanilla bean cake. âWildflowers? It would be different. Everyone has roses or lilies or something. But wildflowers? I canât recall ever going to a wedding with wildflowers. Especially if youâre going to get married here. It would fit with the scenery. This place is so exotic, so untamed!â
Christabel nods, taking nibbles of her cake. âWow, this is delicious! Yes, wildflowers. We could use them for the bouquet, and the corsagesâŚâ
âNow we just need a venue.â Alicent sighs. âWeâve had such a terrible time trying to find a good place. Somewhere historic, but not rundown or unsavory. I mean, you canât get married on an old plantation or something. Bloody hell. How tone-deaf would that be?â
âVery tone-deaf,â Amir concurs.
âThereâs a church across the lake in Belle River that you might like,â you say. âThe Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens. Itâs a historic site, I believe. Itâs not very big, but it would make for nice pictures.â
âThereâs an idea!â Alicent chirps, then she is stricken as a woman walks into the kitchen. Her fair hair is tied up in a messy bun. She wears a white t-shirt stained with dirt, denim overalls, and Converse Chucks. There is a bluish-green chameleon perched on her shoulder, goggling at everyone with its rotating, conical eyes. âHelaena, put your dress on.â
âDreamfyre doesnât like the silk. She wonât sit on my shoulder if Iâm wearing it.â
âHelaena, itâs a lizard.â Alicent is exasperated. âGo upstairs, stick it back in its cage, and put your dress on, now.â
âFine,â Helaena mumbles before wandering off.
âOh, is that the ice sculpture?!â Alicent cries, peeking out into the foyer through the kitchen doorway. âAt last! If youâll excuse meâŚâ She scurries off to attend to it, Christabel trailing her like a shadow.
You put your empty champagne flute in the sink. âI need to go find a bathroom.â
âI need some shrimp cocktail,â Amir replies. âDo you think I should try to explain the evils of gentrification to people?â
You giggle. âYeah, definitely. Start with Viserys.â You part ways, Amir headed towards the foyer, you journeying down a mysterious hallway that adjoins the kitchen. The walls are flame orange and decorated with portraits of grave blonde people, each with an outlandish name etched into the plaque beneath its likeness: Baelon, Alyssa, Jaehaerys, Alysanne, Aenys, another Alyssa, Aegon, Rhaenys, Visenya. âThis family is so fucking weird,â you mutter to yourself as you continue down the hall.
You find a bathroom, but thereâs already a hoard of glamorous, ornamented women waiting outside of it. Theyâre chattering about which is the superior place to take a holiday, the Canary Islands or the south of France. They stare at you like youâre vermin, a nutria or a raccoon. You keep moving.
At the top of a spiral staircase, you find another hallway. The first door you try is a home movie theater complete with a popcorn machine, neon signage, several rows of seating and a plethora of bean bag chairs. Behind the second door is a bedroom, but itâs not unoccupied. You are greeted by the sight of the man who must be the groom. He looks much like he did when he was detained in a holding cell of the Assumption Parish Sheriffâs Office: slicked-back hair, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, flushed cheeks, tiny shorts, flip flops. Heâs hunched over a desk with three lines of white powder on it. Thereâs an HP computerâsomething youâve never seen in person beforeâin one corner of the room, a television and collection of hundreds of VHS tapes in the other. His walls are black and cluttered with posters of punk rock bands, the Ramones, the Clash, the Misfits, Minor Threat, Social Distortion, Bad Religion. His Akai stereo is blaring Fight For Your Right by the Beastie Boys.
âWhat?â the man says agitatedly. Thereâs powder on his fingers and his nose. âWhat? What? Who are you? What do you want?â
âUm, sorry, I was justâŚuhâŚâ Thereâs some kind of rodent running around on his unmade bed. Its fur is a sandy yellow color, its body freakishly long and four legs stumpy. What the fuck. âI was looking for a bathroom.â
He blinks, muddled recollection. âYouâre the cake lady.â
âYeah.â
âWhat are you doing here?â
âDelivering cakes.â
âOh. Right.â He points directly across the hall. âThereâs a bathroom.â
âOkay, great, thanks.â He starts snorting another line before youâve even shut the door.
You spend a minute or two in the Targaryensâ lilac-colored bathroom, paintings of the night sky hung on the wallsâcomets, moons, stars, galaxiesâand amethyst geodes on the sink, a stained glass window with a scene of a lavender field. By the time you navigate back down to the kitchen, the man is there. Heâs eating a Capân Crunch Treat, cocaine still streaked across his pink face and caught in his wisp of a mustache.
âYou did this,â he says. âI know you did. Itâs too good to be anyone but you.â
With his hand thatâs not holding the Capân Crunch Treat, heâs cradling the lean rodent against his bare chest like an infant. âWhat is that? A weasel?â
âItâs a ferret. His name is Sunfyre.â The man nods to a photograph pinned to the refrigerator with magnets shaped like miniature oil rigs. There are two people in the frame, a woman and a girl, their cheeks squished together as they laugh on a pink sand beach of some topical island youâll never visit. âThatâs my dadâs first wife.â
âHeâs divorced?â
âWidowed. She died in a car accident.��� He taps on the girl in the picture, perhaps Cadiâs age. âThatâs my half-sister Rhaenyra. Sheâs an Olympic fencer. She lives in the Lake District and fucks our uncle.â
You shake your head. You must have misheard him. âShe what?â
âYeah, I know how it sounds. Iâm not kidding. She lives in a castle and fucks our uncle and has kids with him. Fucking sick, man. And Iâm the screwup? Because I like coke and strippers? Iâm supposed to feel bad about that? Bite me, Viserys.â He grabs a second Capân Crunch Treat and gestures for you to follow him into the foyer. âCome on. You need some champagne.â
You chuckle. Mental or not, thereâs something likeable about himâŚthough you canât say you envy Christabel. To be married to someone like this man must be hellish. Now, to be married to someone like Aemond⌠âIâve already had a glass.â
âOkay, well I need some champagne, and I donât want to go out there alone.â His flip flops slap noisily against the marble floor as he plods out of the kitchen. He looks back to see if youâre following, and then you hurry after him. The heir to the Jade Dragon fortune weaves through the crowd, ignoring everyone and being ignored in return. In the packed foyer, he plucks a flute of champagne from the tower and chugs it. He eats the cherry and holds up the stem. âYou know how to tie these with your tongue?â
âNo, I definitely do not.â
âI do,â he announces proudly. He shoves the stem in his mouth, wiggles it around for a while, accidentally swallows it and has to hack it back up. He spits the cherry stem onto the pristine white floor, attracting a few grimaces. âWait. Wait. Let me try again.â He reaches for another glass of champagne. The opening notes of Asiaâs Heat Of The Moment boom from the speakers.
You give him a sympathetic smile. âPre-wedding jitters?â
He snorts. âIâm not the one getting married.â
âWait, youâre not?â
He cackles, like itâs the most ridiculous thing heâs ever heard. âI already have a wife. Stephanie, sheâs a princess from Monaco. Right now sheâs in Ibiza or something. I havenât seen her since New Yearâs. This New Yearâs? Last New Yearâs? Iâm not sure. Maybe it was the Grand Prix. I remember a lot of confetti.â
You gape at him. âSo whoâs getting married?â
âMy brother Aemond.â
âWho?!â
He points with his Capân Crunch Treat. Across the foyer by the front door, Aemond is grinning and accepting congratulations from a gaggle of men in suits: black, grey, navy, tan. Aemond himself is wearing emerald green, dark and luxurious and striking and expensive, because heâs a Targaryen whoâs marrying a noblewoman and heâs an oil tycoon and a millionaire and he is most certainly not single and not looking to change that.
âYou fucking liar,â you hiss.
The man with the coke in his mustache peers over at you. âHuh?â
You canât tear your eyes away from Aemond. You feel scarlet rage soaking into you drip by drip, you feel the blood turning hot beneath your skin. You shouldnât be this upset over a man you barely know, you donât understand why you are. Except part of you does, and itâs heartbreaking, and itâs humiliating beyond words. Of course heâs marrying someone like Christabel. Of course heâd never choose me.
Aemond bids farewell to his well-wishers, and as he turns away from them his right eye catches on you. From across the room, his face shifts from disbelief to astonishment to horror. His jaw drops open. The flute of champagne heâd been clasping shatters against the marble floor. Immediately, a flock of servants materialize to clean up the mess. You flee from the foyer to the living room, through the French doors, into the garden. Itâs midday and hot as hell, humid, swampy, suffocating to the British aristocrats that fill the house. You donât see anyone else outside. You run past the swimming pool and through cobblestone trails bordered by blue cardinal flowers, orange coneflowers, coral honeysuckle, resurrection ferns, maypops, white sage, firewheels, magnolias, cinnamon ferns. You stop at the edge of a fish pond larger than your kitchen and glare down into the water, trying not to let tears blur your vision as glimmers of scalesâred, orange, black, white, goldâdart beneath the transparent rippling water.
I have to go back inside. I canât leave without Amir. I canât leave without formally saying goodbye to Alicent and thanking her for her hospitality and licking the boots of these people so theyâll throw just enough cash at me to keep a roof over my daughterâs head.
You hear hurried footsteps; Aemond appears on the cobblestones. Heâs found you, but thatâs as far ahead as heâs planned. He holds his hands open, not knowing what to say.
âYou told me you didnât have a girlfriend.â
âSheâs not my girlfriend.â
âSheâs your fiancĂŠe, thatâs worse, donât you get how thatâs worse?!â
âOkay, this looks bad, but itâs not what you thinkââ
âYouâre marrying her, right?â you demand, and he hesitates. âRight?!â
âYes,â Aemond admits, and it feels like knuckles to your stomach.
âThen youâre a liar and a cheater.â
âItâs notâŚitâsâŚâ He gestures frantically, not knowing how to explain, how to translate it into words youâll understand. âThereâs not an expectation of fidelity.â
âDoes Christabel know that?â
âThatâs the thing, thatâs what you donât get, itâs not like that between us. We donât discuss it, weâre notâŚâ More vague, frenzied gestures. âWeâre notâŚumâŚâ He groans, rubbing his scarred forehead. âWeâre not fucking. At all. Nothing close to it. Itâs not a physical relationship yet.â
âBut she doesnât know about me.â
âNo, God no, of course not.â
âSo she thinks youâreâŚabstinentâŚ?â
He sighs, defeated. âI donât know. I donât really care, honestly.â
âWhy arenât you sleeping with her?â
âBecause we canât until weâre married.â
âIâm sorry, are you Pilgrims?! Are you time travelers from the 1400s?!â
âItâs her familyâs standards,â Aemond says. âItâs not uncommon for women of herâŚstatus.â
âGirl,â you pitch at him. âSheâs a girl. How old is she? Eighteen?â
âNineteen.â
Youâre furious that she exists; youâre furious on her behalf. âAnd sheâs planning her fairytale wedding while you collect local women to act out your kinky fantasies with.â
âOne woman,â Aemond says softly.
âWhat?â
âThereâs one woman currently. Just you.â
You shake your head, swiping enraged tears from your cheeks. âWhy are you marrying her?â
âItâs sort of anâŚarranged thing.â
You stare at him. âSomeone set you up?â
âMy father knows her father. They think itâs a good match. Her family needs money, my father wants ties to the nobility. Sheâs one of probably five people on this planet that he would approve of. And she seems enthusiastic about it, so itâs happening.â
âAemond, that is an insanely bad idea.â
âI have to do it.â
âYouâre marrying her because your dad told you to?!â You explode. âAre you serious?! Everyone with the sole exception of Amir told me to stay with Willis, my friends, my family, my neighbors, my bakery customers, the checkout ladies at the Piggly Wiggly, my goddamn mailman, my father was in the hospital dying of lung cancer saying that his last wish was for me to never get divorced, and I still went through with it because I knew it was the right thing to do and no one was going to stop me!â
âI donât want to talk about Willis,â Aemond snaps.
âWell, heâs kind of an inescapable aspect of my existence, so if I can get over it Iâm sure you can too.â
âI hate that guy,â Aemond seethes, and you have no idea how to respond. You gaze down into the pond and watch scales and fins and tails fly like bullets beneath the surface.
âThose are the biggest goldfish Iâve ever seen in my life.â
âTheyâre koi,â Aemond scoffs.
âOh, is that what they teach people about at Imperial College in London? Fancy fucking fish?â
âDonât be a bitch to me, justâŚjust give me a second, I didnât think I was going to have this conversation until tonight, this is not how I wanted it to go.â
You say quietly, betrayed: âYouâre a robber baron.â
âWhat? Like Vanderbilt or Rockefeller, that kind of robber baron, thatâs who you think I am?!â
âThatâs who you are! You hoard and exploit and use and pollute and destroy! I donât destroy things, I create them!â
âYou bake cupcakes!â
âAnd I donât hurt anyone by doing it!â
âYou are so goddamn delusional, you are completely insaneââ
You start counting out crimes on your fingers. âI donât kill people, I donât endanger the Earth, I didnât irrevocably screw up Ketchikan, Alaskaââ
âSo Iâm terrible because I want to bring jobs to your pathetic, dead-end town?! Because I want there to be a few less pregnant teenagers and more high school diplomas? That makes me a war criminal, that puts me right up there with Jaruzelski or Pinochet?!â He realizes what heâs said when he sees the wounded fury unfold on your face. âOh fuck. Come on, I didnât mean you.â
âNo, you just meant people who are exactly like me in every way.â
âYou know what? I take it back,â Aemond says, knife-sharp, wrathful. âI did mean you. Because you are wasting your life here, and youâre too stubborn or too scared or too much of both to recognize an opportunity to have something more. Donât you think you deserve better? Donât you think your kid deserves better?â
âI built something here, I made a future for myself and my daughter here, and youâre going to work our people to death and poison the lake and then pack up and leave when it all goes wrong because thatâs what oil tycoons do! The opportunity is for you, not us! More mansions, more champagne, more coke, more demented pets!â
âThen leave! Get in your car and drive back to your sad, structurally unsound house and live happily ever after with whatever braindead barbarian you marry next.â
âI will,â you pitch back. âEnjoy being married to your marquess.â
âSheâs not a marquess. Her dad is the marquess. She wonât inherit the title until he dies.â
âEnjoy being married to your future marquess, you pretentious prick.â
âWomen canât be marquesses. They can only be marchionesses.â
âYeah, youâre so smart. Iâm really impressed. At least I donât have to tie people to beds to delude myself into thinking I have some semblance of control over my life.â
You storm through the garden and back into the house as Aemond watches you, violently disappointed. You yank open one of the French doors and slip into the midst of the festivities. Illustrious guests are still mingling, toasting, boasting, scrutinizing you skeptically when they notice you at all. In the archway between the living room and the foyer, Amir joins you, sipping a flute of champagne.
âHey, ho! Did you get lost? Did you find the cellar where they keep the bodies of their political enemies?â He has eaten so many hors dâoeuvres heâs basically waddling. âYou look stressed. How about a nice shrimp cocktail?â He follows your eyeline to where Aemond is trying to sneak covertly into the living room through the French doors. Christabel intercepts him, relieved that heâs finally arrived, beaming, sparkling, entirely unaware of any conflict. Aemond conjures up a smile, fond yet guarded. She doesnât touch him, and he doesnât touch her either. He clasps his hands behind his back instead. âIs thatâŚ?!â
âYeah.â
âAnd heâsâŚ?!â
âYeah.â
âOh,â Amir says. âOh.â He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his dark eyes wide and shellshocked. âWe should have made him buy all of us Nintendos and a week at horse camp.â
âI want to go home.â
âYou got it, let me just grab a few more of those Swedish meatballsââ
âAmir,â you say, tears brimming in your eyes. âI really want to go home.â
âOkay, okay.â He slings an arm around your shoulder, smacks a kiss against your temple, walks with you towards the front door. âThen letâs go home.â
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen x you
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training season
kerry von erich x afab!reader | 3.4k | 18+ minors dni | honestly zero plot to be found, just smut because why not!
i don't think it's an overstatement to say this is incredibly overdue đ¤Śđťââď¸ i started writing it in..march i want to say, and then hit a bit of a mental health slump but here we are in july, surviving if not thriving â¨ď¸ this story is based on this request from the most patient angel in the universe, love of my life, @thecapricunt1616 do yourself a favour and scoot on over to discover the best blog in existence đŤśđťđđź enjoy!
đĽ
âHe's here again.â
âWho?â
âYour not-so-secret admirer.â
You rolled your eyes with a smile, not looking across the room. It was the third or fourth time that week that some of your fellow team USA athletes just happened to be in the same gymnasium as you. Sure, their disciplines were based outdoors, but you were all happy to keep up the charade that they were there for moral support. Not to watch you and the other gymnasts walk around in flimsy practice leotards, absolutely not. Like you and the girls never went to watch the guys strut around in their flimsy vests, you were just there for moral support. Â
When it was your turn on the mat, you took your time unzipping your hoodie, carefully folding it and setting it aside as you felt eyes on you. When you walked over to the corner of the mat, you gave a slight glance across the room, checking who was sitting in the stands. Of course Kerry was there, you would have been disappointed if he wasn't.Â
You always pushed yourself to be the best, but knowing he was watching you always pushed you harder, made you add a little extra flair to your routine as you moved across the floor with ease, throwing yourself into your practice.Â
After you'd finished and had rejoined the girls, you found Kerry still watching you when the next girl went to practice, looking away after giving him a smile and trying not to feel too smug to have his attention.Â
It wasn't like he didn't have yours, you supposed. You just enjoyed keeping him on a hook.Â
Of course, you and the girls just happened to be going for a walk around the training grounds later that afternoon when Kerry and his teammates were out for practice. It was a beautiful afternoon and you were just enjoying the weather while you had some free time.
While some of the girls stopped to properly watch the guys training, you linked arms with your bestie on the team and kept walking, giving the occasional glance over your shoulder before looking away and bursting into a fit of laughter about how teenage it all was.Â
Still, teenage or not..it worked.
As you were rounding a lap of the training grounds, you spotted Kerry walking over to you and had your bestie giving you some excuse or the other before she went to join the other girls/spectators. You didn't mind having an audience, after all it was girls you'd known for along time and you'd been in the group watching on enough times.
âHey,â Kerry grinned as he approached you, his hoodie draped over his shoulder. âwhat brings you out here?â
âThis weather, obviously,â You grinned, unzipping your hoodie a little. âIt felt criminal to be inside any longer.â
âFair enough,â Kerry nodded, smirking a little as he glanced over to the girls, huddled together and giggling as they all pretended the grass was suddenly fascinating.Â
âHow are you feeling about next week?â
âLike the gold is already around my neck,â You shrugged with a smile, folding your arms as Kerry looked back at you. âwhat about you? Feeling confident?â
âAbsolutely,â He grinned, gesturing to himself. âYou saw me out there, I got this.â
âWho says I saw you?â You rolled your eyes with a grin. âI was taking a walk, I don't have time to watch you.â
âRight, that walk all around here..where I just happen to be,â Kerry raised a brow. âThere's no shame checking me out, I'll take the support.â
You laughed and shook your head,adjusting your arms to sit tighter under your chest. âCan I borrow some of that confidence for my routine?â
âLike you need it,â Kerry rolled his eyes playfully. âYou were great out there. Couldn't keep my eyes off you.â
âYou're welcome,â You grinned, taking a step closer. âHappy to provide you with some free entertainment.â
âOh yeah?â Kerry stepped closer too, the distance between you now minimal. âMaybe I can repay the favor.â
âHow do you plan to do that?â You asked, looking up at Kerry under your lashes with a grin. âI'm not easily impressed.â
âThen let me try,â Kerry winked, taking a slight step back. âCome by tonight. We're having a party. You can show me some of those moves of yours up close.â
âI'll think about it,â You shrugged, unable to stop the smile on your face.Â
âI know you will,â Kerry grinned. âJust try and think about the party too. Be great to see you.â
You did think about it, and you knew you and the girls would absolutely end up at the party but you weren't going to make that known. It was the same with all the Olympic village parties, you and the girls would show up fashionably late, looking drop dead gorgeous and have the best time.Â
Kerry's party wouldn't be any exception. Music blasted while you and the girls got ready, drinks flowing as you all perfected yourselves. Technically the athletes weren't supposed to have parties, to drink or smoke or eat burgers or in some people's cases work their way through the countries of the world person by person. But once you all brought home medals, the coaches were willing to look the other way now and then.
You were feeling pretty buzzed when you got to the party, which had spilled out from the apartments onto the grounds. Music was blasting, drinks were flowing, a cup being handed to you as soon as you arrived. You took your besties hand and twirled her around before doing a lap of the party. You waved to some of your fellow team USA athletes, keeping an eye out for Kerry. When you spotted him, you and your bestie kept yourselves within his eyeline, dancing to the music.
It didn't take long until you felt a hand on your back, giving your bestie a grin as you rolled your eyes playfully. You turned around and smiled as you spotted Kerry, resting your hand on your hip.
âFound me then?â
âYou're hard to miss when you're looking like this,â Kerry grinned, eyeing you up and down. âGot all eyes on you when you're looking so good.â
âOh yeah?â You grinned, raising a brow before looking back to your bestie. She took your empty cup before telling you she'd get you another drink, giving you a wink before walking away.
âSeems weird,â You looked back at Kerry, touching the sleeve of his t-shirt. âSeeing you so covered up. I'm used to you in your vests.â
Kerry laughed before taking a sip of his drink, his eyes focused on you. You knew the black mini wrap dress you'd thrown in your suitcase at the last minute was a good idea.Â
âIs that your way of saying you prefer me half naked?â Kerry teased.
âAbsolutely not,â You raised a brow with a grin. âWhy would I prefer half naked to the whole thing?â
Before he could respond, you held out your hand with a grin, tilting your head slightly.
âCome dance with me.â
âYes ma'am.â
You turned once Kerry's hand was on yours, leading him further into the crowd before turning back and wrapping his arm around you as you swayed against him. He moved his free hand to grip your waist, holding you flush against him. The music felt louder, pounding in your ears as you moved your body to the rhythm.Â
Kerry leaned down to kiss your neck, your head falling back against his shoulder as your hands moved over his, your heart racing as warmth flooded you. For all your teasing and flirtations, you'd never gotten so close to him before, felt all of him pressed against you. Really you cursed yourself for not doing it earlier.
 âDidn't know you knew how to dance,â You grinned, slowly stepping forward before turning in Kerry's arms and wrapping your arms around his neck. âYou got any other hidden talents?â
âPlenty,â Kerry smirked, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. âThough they ain't gotta stay hidden.â
You gently trailed your fingers through Kerry's hair, smirking slightly as you leaned in to whisper in his ear.
âI hope not. Show me what you got.â
As you felt Kerry's hands move down your body to grab your ass and pick you up, you let out a squeak of excitement as you wrapped your legs around his waist.Â
âNo time like the present hm?â Kerry smirked, taking a step forward as you held onto him, giving him directions as best as you could, distracted by the feel of him against your already soaked panties.
You were feeling desperate by the time you reached Kerry's bedroom, weaving through the heated crowd who in a few days wouldn't be smoking, drinking and dry humping on couches, the world watching respectable athletes at the peak of their prowess.
The feeling of a solid door behind your back snapped you from your thoughts, you met Kerry's eyes and moved your hands to touch his neck.
âCome on then,â You murmured with a grin. âwhip out your talents.â
Kerry laughed before he leaned in to kiss you, to your unexpected surprise. You had often thought about how it might feel, knowing it was inevitable. It turned out to be better than you could have ever imagined. He tasted like beer and a hint of cigarettes, his lips soft against yours. His hands were still gripping your ass, and you didn't object to it when his fingers found the waistband of your panties.Â
âPut me down, I'll take them off,â You groaned into the kiss, your hands moving to grip Kerry's curls. âruined anyway.â
After a moment, Kerry slowly set you down, and you broke the kiss just long enough to reach under your dress before Kerry's arm touched yours.
âNo,â He met your eyes before glancing down, his hand moving down your arm to slip under your dress and touch your wrist. âLet me.â
You managed a nod, watching Kerry sink to his knees before you. He slowly reached under your dress, fingers digging into the waistband of your panties. He tugged them down slowly, his eyes held on yours.Â
âFuck,â You murmured softly as you noticed the size of the wet spot on your panties, now pooled at your feet.
âNot a bad start,â Kerry grinned as he looked down and reached for the hem of your dress. âBut you can do better. Get this off for me, will you?â
You took a breath as you reached for the hem of your dress, your fingers brushing against Kerry's. It took some serious self control to slowly peel your dress up over your head and not just rip it away. When you were left standing in just your bra, your heart raced as you met Kerry's eyes, a smirk on his face.
âGood girl,â He murmured softly, his hands moving along your thighs. âSo obedient, ain't you?â
As much as you wanted to give a sassy little retort, you found yourself distracted by some primal part of your mind for a moment, lifting your leg up slowly and draping it over Kerry's shoulder. You smirked slightly as you noticed he was caught off guard, tilting your head slightly.Â
âWaiting for someone to wave you in?â You teased, reaching for your bra strap and slowly tugging it down your shoulder.
âDon't be a brat,â Kerry grinned, hooking his arm around your leg as he leaned in and placed a soft kiss to your wet center. You closed your eyes as he slowly locked a stripe up to your clit, your heart racing. Your hand moved to grip his hair, a gasp escaping you as you felt Kerry's hand grip your thigh.
As he slowly licked along your wet folds, you tried to steady your breathing, opening your eyes and glancing down. The sight of Kerry buried between your legs had you weak, gripping his hair tighter as he moved his free hand between your legs. The pads of his fingers brushed over your entrance, the teasing getting to you.Â
âGotta be patient, darlinââ Kerry murmured against you, lapping at your clit as you let out a moan. You wished you hadn't waited so damn long to get him between your legs, but you were determined to make up for lost time.
Kerry's fingers sweeping over your entrance drew back your attention, your high feeling closer as he slowly pushed a digit into you.
âFuck,â You groaned, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. You gripped Kerry's hair as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, your heart racing as you felt the high closing in on you.Â
You weren't sure if you screamed or if the sound caught in your throat when you came, the feeling of it hit you harder than you expected and had you seeing stars. It took a moment to register Kerry standing up and holding your waist, your body slowly coming back down to earth.
You took a breath as you met his eyes, knowing he'd give you anything in the world in that moment if you asked.
âKiss me,â You murmured softly, reaching for the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer until his lips were against yours. You could taste yourself on his lips, addicted to it immediately. You grabbed at the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and letting out a gasp when he pulled back. His shirt was on the floor in a flash, and you watched as he began removing the rest of his clothes. When he was down to his boxers, he reached for the waistband before pausing and looking at you with a smirk.Â
âNot gonna be the only naked one,â He grinned, gesturing to your bra, just about still on you. âFair is fair.â
âThen come even the playing field,â You teased, toying with the strap of your bra and letting out an excited shriek when Kerry was on you in a heartbeat. He kissed your neck as his arms weapon around you, his fingers making swift work of ridding you of your bra. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting out a soft breath as he pulled back to look at you.
âFeeling okay?â He asked, eyes searching yours.
âBetter than okay,â You grinned, leaning in to kiss him. His arms wrapped around your waist before he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. âAs long as you keep doing what you're doing.â
âOh yeah?â Kerry murmured against your lips, smirking as he walked over to the neatly made bed and promptly tossed you down on it. âYou mean something like that?â
âI suppose so,â You rolled your eyes with a grin as you propped yourself up on your elbows and glanced at the bed.
âWow..I guess these things are a little sturdier than they wanted us to think.â
âI'm happy to test them out,â Kerry grinned, standing at the end of the bed and watching you keenly.
âSee what they're made of.â
You sat up a little, eyeing Kerry with a smirk.
âWe can do that..if you ever take off those damn shorts. Are they glued to you or something?â
âNot necessarily,â Kerry grinned, snapping waistband. âJust like making you wait.â
âKerry Von Erich,â You raised a brow, giving him a pseudo serious look. âyou can either take those shorts off or get the hell out.â
âYou gonna kick me outta my own bedroom?â Kerry teased, stepping closer to the bed. âdoesn't seem fair to me.â
You laid back down on the bed, stretching your arms up for a moment.Â
âDoesn't have to be fair. Your choice, I can always do this without you.â
âWell as much as I would love to see that,â Kerry grinned, his hands moving to his waistband. âIt ain't gonna be necessary. Get on your knees for me like a good girl.â
âYes sir,â You grinned, rolling onto your stomach and slowly drawing your knees up to expose yourself to Kerry. A thrill shot down your spine as you felt the mattress dip, taking a breath as you felt Kerry's hand gently stroke the back of your thigh.
âYou gonna spread these for me?âÂ
You were pretty sure your arousal was dripping onto the bed as you spread your legs wider, your heart racing. What you expected was to feel Kerry's hand grip your waist, feel his throbbing dick tease your entrance, what you didn't expect was to feel his tongue lapping at your wet folds once again.Â
âKerry,â You moaned, clutching at the tightly tucked sheets. âI..â
âWhat's the matter?â Kerry murmured behind you, his hand moving slowly across your thigh, fingers brushing against your hot core. âCat got your tongue?â
âVery funny,â You scoffed, taking a breath as you felt Kerry's hand move between your legs, fingers replacing his tongue. âI'm just wondering if you're going to fuck me or if I need to do it myself.â
âWould you prefer that?â Kerry asked softly, placing a soft kiss to your back as his fingers slowly spread you open.
âI..I'll take what I can get,â You murmured in response, heat riding in your abdomen. âBut I suppose you're the preferable option.â
âLucky me,â Kerry chuckled, slowly easing his fingers from you and patting your raised ass.
âWhat are we waiting for?â
âYou tell me,â You grinned, looking over your shoulder and moving your ass back towards Kerry. âI'm running out of patience here.â
Kerry shook his head with a grin, gently touching your hip as he met your eyes.
âTurn over then. I wanna see your face.â
You felt your heart race at the comment but tried not to let it show, instead giving Kerry a nod before you moved onto your back, taking a breath.Â
âIs this okay?â Kerry asked, the sincerity in his eyes making you smile.Â
âIt could be even better,â You grinned, your arms moving around Kerry's neck. âBut yes, it's okay.â
Kerry grinned at your answer, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that felt like it should have taken place on a beach at sunset and not on a flimsy cardboard bed in the Olympic village but you weren't going to complain.
For all your bravado and teasing, you felt like you and Kerry were teenagers again. You had known each other since you were teenagers, of course. Always had an eye on each other, thought about what it could be like.
And now that it was happening, you felt like it was just as exhilarating and passionate and fun as you imagined it would be. Your legs wrapped around Kerry's waist as he gently moved in you, his lips kissing a trail along your neck.
As much as you would never admit it, you were pleasantly surprised that Kerry took it a little slow at first, getting you used to the feeling. And when you let him know he could take it a little further he didn't hesitate, pushing your legs apart and burying himself deeper, but keeping a slow pace that had you melting into the bed.
When you felt like you were falling closer to the edge, you pushed Kerry onto his back, climbing on top of him and letting out a moan as you let yourself sink down onto him, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling, to feel his hands on your waist, his eyes burning onto you.
You weren't sure how you managed to go so long without giving in when it felt so good, your nails digging into Kerry's chest as you rode him towards your high, the sounds of his moans and cries of your name drawing you closer and closer, you leaned to down to kiss him as you felt the wave build, the most wonderful sensation taking over you before you let a shriek.
Not due to your (impending) orgasm, but rather due to the bed proving itself to be as unstable as intended.Â
You clung to Kerry as the bed crumpled underneath you both, the blankets curling around you. There was silence for a moment before you both erupted into laughter.
âGuess they really are trying to stop us this year,â Kerry grinned, gently stroking your back. âtoo little too late though.â
âOh we're not done yet,â You grinned, carefully getting up before walking over to the wardrobe and leaning against it, giving a light knock on the wood.
âReckon we could break this too?â
âI think we could certainly try,â Kerry grinned, getting up and walking over to you, his arms pulling you close. âwhat have we got to lose?â
#the iron claw#kerry von erich x reader#kerry von erich x you#kerry von erich fic#yes i updated this to reflect the paris olympic bed sitch#đđŤśđťđź
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January prompt: hole
Word count: 404
No warnings apply
Rated G
@steddiemicrofic
Ok YES Iâve done 2 others BUT in my defense. Mickala asked for childhood-friends-to-lovers and I had an Idea, what was I supposed to do? Not write?
âThereâs a hole in your pants.â Eddie looks up at those words to find a boy staring down at him, brows furrowed in concern. âDid you fall?â
He looks back down to the stick in his hand, the scratch marks in the dirt. âNah. Just a hole.â
The boy sits in front of him. âMy mom says holes are unsightly,â he says, carefully pronouncing the last word. âShe always buys me new pants when my old ones are finally comfortable.â
Eddie cocks his head at the boy. âIâve never had new pants.â
âOh.â He sits with that for a minute. âWhere do you get your pants from?â
Eddie shrugs. âMy momma buys âem. But most of the time theyâve already got holes in âem.â
Suddenly the boy grins. âIt would be kinda funny if my mom sold my pants to your mom, huh?â
That gets Eddie to smile. âIt would,â he agrees, and extends an olive branch. âIâm Eddie. Whatâs your name?â
âSteve. Whatâre you doing with the stick?â
Eddie grins at him. âNothing. But thatâs just âcause I didnât have anyone to play with. You wanna play with me, Steve?â
âSure!â He sits up onto his knees, excited. âWhatâre we playing?â
Eddie grins. âWhatever we want. You ever heard of dragons?â
âDragons arenât real.â
âAre too. Iâll show you.â
They play until the end-of-recess bell rings. They find each other the next day, and the day after that, and even the week after that, until summer came and they drifted apart.
Ten years later, after unimaginable horrors and shitty fourth of Julys and getting the crap beat out of him, Steve finds Eddie in a boat shed. âThereâs a hole in your pants,â he says, even though thereâs always a hole in Eddieâs pants. Itâs not so much about lack as it is his personal style. âDid you fall?â
Eddie manages a shaky smile up at Steve. âNah,â he says softly. âJust a hole.â He suddenly smiles bigger. âLooks like youâve got a hole in your own pants, too.â
Steve grins back. âMy mom always said they were unsightly,â he agrees. âI donât think so.â
âMe neither, sweetheart,â Eddie murmurs, accepting the help up just to stand in Steveâs space.
âYou okay?â
Eddie lets out a humorless laugh. âBetter with you here.â
âFlirt.â Steve rolls his eyes, ignores the pink racing up his cheeks. âReady to get out of here?â
âLead the way.â
#steddiemicrofic#steddiemicroficjanuary#January prompt#hole#âŚfor the third time#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#childhood friends to lovers#starambles
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i'd like to know how bi (bisexual or biromantic) paul barras could be said to be.
The best evidence of Barras being attracted to men Iâve found in the hostile pamphlet Les Brigands dĂŠmasquĂŠs, ou MĂŠmoires pour servir Ă l'histoire du temps prĂŠsent, etc (1796) by Auguste Danican. On page 103 of said pamphlet we can read the following:
[Before the revolution] Barras, finding himself without resources, joined all the Greeks, and was himself an excellent Greek (although he understood neither Homer nor Lucian). He was seen a lot at the Hôtel d'Anglais, the usual meeting place for a crowd of swindlers; he lived modestly on a fourth floor, rue Champ-Fleury; went from time to time to core two imperial Êcus, and found himself in terrible distress.
The work Sodome Ă Paris: protohistoire de lâhomosexualitĂŠ masculine fin XVIIIe - milieu XIXe siècle (2009) by Thierry Pastorello, besides bringing up Danican, also mentions that âTalleyrand tells the story of the drowning of Raymond Valz on July 15 1797, Raymond was Barrasâ young lover. Raymond drowned himself under the eyes of Barras who would have shown signs of pain so big that one said he had just lost his mistress.â However, checking what Talleyrand actually writes about this incident in his memoirs, at least I have a hard time reading this as evidence Barras was romantically attracted to Valz, nor can I find the exact formulation that Barras mourned him like a mistress:
Whilst I was engaged in reading I donât recollect what work, two young men came in to ascertain the time by the drawing-room clock, and seeing that it was only half-past three, they said to each other: âWe have to go for a swim.â They had not been gone twenty minutes, when one of them returned asking for help; I ran, with all the persons of the house, to the riverside. Facing the garden, between the high road and the island, the Seine forms a kind of whirlpool in which one of the young men had disappeared. The watermen of the neighbourhood soon rowed to the spot, and two of them most courageously dived to the bottom. However, with all the efforts they made to save the unfortunate fellow proved vain. I went back to the house. The corpse of the young man was only found the next day caught in weeds, at a spot distant more than six hundred yards from the place where he disappeared. The drowned was named Raymond, Lodève was his birthplace. Barras was very fond of him; he had brought him up and, since he had been appointed a Director, he had made him his aide-de-champ. I was alone in the drawing-room, not knowing exactly what to do. Who was to tell Barras the misfortune that had just befallen him? I had never seen the Director. My position was really unpleasant. A carriage drove up. On opening the door, the gardener said: âM. Raymond has just been drowned, yes Citizen Director, he has just been drowned.â Barras crossed the front yard, and rushed upstairs to his room, crying out aloud. After waiting some little time, one of his servants told him I was in the drawing-room. He sent word to excuse his not coming down, and requesting me to sit down to dinner at once. The secretary who accompanied him remained upstairs. Thus, I was alone at Barrasâ table. A quarter of an hour having elapsed, a servant came to request me to go up to the Directorâs room. I felt thankful for his supposing that, under the circumstances, the dinner served to me could have no attraction. I felt quite upset. As I entered his room, he took hold of both my hands and embraced me; he was weeping.
Pastorelloâs work also brings up historian Oliver Blanc, who in Lâamour Ă Paris au temps de Louis XVI(2002) apparently notes âthat in 1793, Barras, finding himself in Draguignan, meets a young barber that he finds to his liking, Victor Grand.â Here we can again return to the original source, which is Barrasâ memoirs (though do enlighten me if thereâs more info on Grand and Valz) and see what he writes about, as he calls him, his aide-de-camp. This is the only interaction described between them that Iâve been able to find:
[After escaping from prison] Victor Grand came in haste to throw his arms about me; it was with pleasure that I once more beheld this young man, who had already won my entire confidence, and was one of the few who never ceased to be worthy of it.Â
Other than that, Pastorello only cites more historians that claim Barras was attracted to men â Michel Larivière who in Homosexuels et bisexuels cĂŠlèbres (1997) ânotes that Barras has the reputation of loving boys,â Michel Missofile who in Le cĹur secret de Talleyrand (1956) notes âthat Barras lived in absence of any female presence with his man of trust François Roland, his piqueur Louis Copillon and his aide-de-camp Raymond Valzâ and claims he was âthis seducer without a mistress, this husband without a home.â On Barrasâ wikipedia we can also read that historian Jacques-Olivier Boudon apparently qualifies Barras as âone of the best-known homosexuals of the timeâ whose âinterest in young men was common knowledge at the timeâ in his Le sexe sous l'Empire (2019). I donât have access to any of these books, so I unfortunately canât check if these people use any more primary sources to argue their case.
In this post @tierseta does however bring attention to a part in FouchĂŠâs memoirs, where he writes Barras had both âcourtiers (a masculine word) and mistressesâ:
The exaggerated disparagement of his behavior and moral principles was precisely what attracted to him a court of swarming schemers (intrigants et intrigantes) and vampires. He was then in rivalry with Carnot, and maintained a favorable public opinion only by the idea that, if need be, he would be seen on horseback, defying, as on the 13th of VendÊmiaire, any hostile attempt; as a matter of fact, he contrasted with [his image of] the Prince of the Republic, occasionally going hunting, having trained dog packs, courtiers and mistresses.
Finally, according to this anon, Barras had sex with and raped both women and men but only felt affection towards the latter group, and also got raped by his father on several occasions as a child. As the best source for this is given Barrasâ biographer Henry Monteagle, whose work unfortunately has never gotten published and is extremely hard to obtain, but Barras apparently also talks about his attraction to men and abuse committed by his father in his memoirs. I have to admit I failed to find anything when searching for the word âfatherâ in the version of the memoirs linked within the post, and I donât have time to read the entire memoirs to check if he says anything about his relation to other men in them (and Iâm probably not the best person to do either since Iâm pretty bad at reading subtext), but there might be something in thereâŚ
#barras#paul barraa#frev#ask#mystericalâŚ#i wonder what these historians that insist so hard that barras was gay base their claims on#bc this was kind of underwhelming in comparison to how widespread that claim actually isâŚ
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Steve is thirteen when they send him off to summer camp for the first time. Itâs not really a summer camp though, itâs a study camp; a glorified summer school â and in Steveâs mind, a punishment specifically for all the kids who get bad grades.
He drags his suitcase into the door of his cabin, and peeks curiously into the other bed there to see who heâs going to be bunking with for the next two months.
What heâs greeted with is a head of long, curly hair, and a set of big, brown eyes perched over a freckled nose.
Steve swallows thickly in shock. The rooms are co-ed?!
Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair, a habit as much as it is an effort to smooth back his humidity-frazzled do, and he straightens his shoulders.
âHi,â He says, extending an open palm. âIâm Steve. And youâreâŚcute.â
Those eyes grow even wider in surprise, but the kid takes his hand and shakes it.
âI really like your hair,â Steve says. âItâs pretty.â
âI, uh - um,â The kid says, throat clearing. âIâm Eddie.â
Steve blinks.
âYouâre -â
Eddie takes in his dumbfounded expression, and he throws his head back in a barking laugh.
âDude! Did you think I was a girl?!â
Steve can feel his cheeks grow warm, and he looks down at his feet, too embarrassed to even make eye contact.
Eddie peers up at him, his mouth still twitching.
âFine, letâs make it even then. I think youâre cute too.â
That gets Steve to look up, and he catches the playful expression on Eddieâs face, unable to help himself from matching it with a hesitant smile.
âSo what are you in here for?â Eddie asks, flopping back on his bed and patting it in signal for Steve to join him.
âUgh,â Steve pouts, his nose wrinkling as he sits down. âEnglish. Writing and spelling sucks, and I hate reading. How about you?â
âMath,â Eddie sighs. âIâd gladly take writing and spelling and reading over numbers that just get all jumbled up and make no sense.â
âWhat!â Steve squawks. âBut math is the easiest! It always stays the same and you follow the same rules for every problem!â
âSay,â Eddie says, mouth quirking up. âSounds like we could help each other out.â
Steve looks down where Eddie has jutted his hand out, a mirror to his own earlier greeting.
âAlright,â Steve agrees, shaking it.
Hand in hand, pack made, seals the fate of two boys stuck in camp that summer. They spend their free time from then on bonding, hard and fast.
Skinned knees and swimming lessons. Shared homework, and Eddie reading aloud from all the books heâd brought with him. Sneaking into the kitchens, when all the counselors are turned in, to steal snacks â sweet and salty treats alike, that they giggle over while they construct pillow forts between their sides of the room.
Eddie shows Steve how to strum a few chords on a beat up acoustic that one of the adults brought with them to play around the campfire, and Steve teaches Eddie how to avoid getting tagged in capture the flag.
They swap clothes when they run out of clean things and donât feel like washing just yet, Steve in Eddieâs flannel one week, and Eddie in Steveâs t-shirts the next.
Steve shows Eddie the best way to capture bugs without hurting them, from butterflies to ants to larger beetles. Eddie shows him the best way to set them loose in other cabins during prank wars.
They take showers at the same time, occupying stalls on opposite sides, both competing to see who can sing the loudest at the top of their lungs while they lather up their hair.
They take canoe trips, with talks of things like birthdays:
âMineâs on the fourth!â
âNo way! Mine is the twenty sixth!â
âThat officially makes July the best month.â
And late night conversations, shared after lights out, two boys tucked into the same bed:
âMy dad doesnât care whether or not I pass next year and get into high school,â Eddie whispers. âI think heâs hoping I drop out so I have to come help him run jobs.â
âMine cares way too much how I do,â Steve whispers back. âEven though he doesnât really care about anything else. I think I could be dying and he would just ask me how my grades are.â
âDads are assholes.â Eddie proclaims, and Steve feels a rush of deja-vu out of nowhere.
âYeah,â he agrees, quietly, his hand slipping into Eddieâs where it rests between their heads. âBut who needs âem? We got each other now.â
âForever,â Eddie says back, squeezing his fingers.
Forever, as it turns out, only lasts the duration of camp. They send each other off with tearful goodbyes, promising theyâll see each other in school, their last year together before Eddie graduates up.
But Steve doesnât see Eddie that year. He tries, again and again, posting himself right beside Eddieâs locker, but the boy never shows himself. If Steve didnât know any better, he would think itâs because heâs avoiding him.
He asks around, and the teachers all confirm heâs in attendance, at least most of the time. They donât share any classes though, so itâs hard to catch him when he appears to be taking no extra-curriculars, doesnât ride the bus, and avoids his locker at all costs. Even lunch he apparently eats in his âsecret spot,â which nobody can really tell him the location of, only that it exists.
But Steveâs not one to ever give up on people, so he tries a different approach. He starts writing notes, scribbles of thoughts on scrap pieces of paper that he shoves between the slats of Eddieâs locker. Notes soon graduate to letters, and Steve flexes all the tips Eddie ever gave him on writing; expressing how much he misses him, and still wants to be his friend.
âIâve never had a friend like you,â He writes. âThe only other friend I have is Tommy H. and mostly Iâm nice to him because sometimes I think if I didnât pretend to be his friend, he might get real mean and nasty. But I miss talking to you. I miss telling you secrets. I miss when it was just the two of us in our cabin. I miss you letting me play with your hair, cause honestly it still is the prettiest.â
Steve doesnât get a reply. He has no way of knowing if Eddie ever got a single thing he wrote, not before the year is up and Eddie is presumably graduated.
The year after Steve spends in a countdown, waiting for the day he gets to the high school. Waiting for a chance to see his friend again, to see if heâs over whatever made him avoid him.
The day rolls around, and Steve sets foot into Hawkins High for the first time, fifteen and just barely grown into his broader shoulders and newly acquired height.
Eddie, on the other hand, is sixteen and still gangly as a newborn colt; all long, skinny legs and knobbly joints, towering over most of the other kids, so Steve spots him easily.
His ears stick off his head like they donât belong there, no longer hidden by a mass of bushy curls. His hair is shorn short, worse even than a military buzz.
âEddie!â Steve calls, excited at the sight of him.
Eddie freezes at the sound of his voice, his head turning slowly until he catches Steve down the other end of the hall.
He runs. Books it to the nearest bathroom at a ridiculous speed, and Steve feels his stomach sink as he follows after him, glancing beneath the stall doors until he spies a pair of worn, red sneakers beneath one.
The bell rings and then itâs just them there, late for class.
âEddie,â Steve says, fighting the hot prick of tears in his eyes. âCan you at least tell me what I did wrong?â
Thereâs a pause, and then the stall swings open slowly.
âItâs not you, Stevie,â Eddieâs voice croaks. âNever you.â
âThen what?â
âI didnât,â Eddie trails off, choked up. âI didnât want you to see me like this.â
Steve doesnât know how to translate that for a solid twenty seconds, an awkward silence as he tries to make sense of it. And then it clicks.
âEddie,â He says softly, âItâs just hair.â
Eddieâs face pinches, and then he crumbles.
Itâs not pretty; itâs loud and itâs snotty, and there are a few sobbed âmissed youâs smeared into Steveâs shirt as Eddie collapses forward, but he doesnât care; not with Eddie in his arms.
âNo one has ever looked at me like you did before,â Eddie heaves between heavy breaths, clutching either sleeve of Steveâs polo. âYou said - my hair - you thought I was pretty. I didnât want that to change. Dad cut it right after I got back and I thoughtâŚI donât know. I didnât want you to see.â
Steve takes a steadying breath and pulls back, just enough that he can take Eddieâs face between both of his hands.
Heâs lost the freckles mostly, but his eyes are just as big as ever, framed with long, dark eyelashes, tears clinging to them.
âDo you think I spent a year cramming notes in your locker because of your hair?â Steve asks.
âUh -â Eddie manages, a little stunned.
âI think,â Steve says, clearing his throat and trying not to sound half as awkward as he feels, âThat your hair doesnât matter, because youâre still pretty.â
Eddieâs eyes refill with fresh tears.
âReally?â
Steve carefully swipes under his eyes with his thumbs.
âMhm. I think - well, maybe not right now, because youâre a little bit gross, but -â He breaks off into a bit of watery laughter, âBut youâre definitely still the prettiest guy Iâve ever seen. Youâve got the cutest eyes in the whole school, and your dad is a fucking asshole for what he did, but it doesnât change that youâre my best friend.â
Eddie hugs him tight, burying his face into the now soaked material of Steveâs shirt, like heâs afraid to ever let go of him again. And maybe Steve cries a little too, over spending the last two years thinking his best friend hated him.
They work together that year to help Eddie get on his own feet making money â dealing â and Eddie makes enough to get out from his fatherâs roof so he can grow his hair out again. His uncle is more than happy to make space for Lilaâs kid, and doubly so just to keep him away from Al.
Steve is there to see every stage of growth, from messy curls to a chin length bob, and just as pleased to tell him that he still likes it every step of the way, no matter how it looks.
~~~~~~~~~
Steve opens his eyes to the sun streaming in, and just like that, the dream is gone. Torn away by the light permeating behind his eyelids, even as he groans and tries to go back to sleep, to chase the world where he and EddieâŚ
Steve pops up, sitting ramrod straight.
Where they had beenâŚwhat? Best friends? Steve doesnât think sending a yearâs worth of locker notes and calling your friend âprettyâ looks so strictly platonic, which only serves to make this new dream even weirder.
Eddie isâŚis his dead friend who was barely even a friend. His fists clench in his bedspread, and he fights against the lump that lodges in his throat as he tries to convince himself of that fact.
But their closeness, the way they had been with each otherâŚit felt so real. It lingers, in a way that leaves Steve short of breath as it collides with reality, this world where Eddie is gone and was never his.
He lays back down, arm extending over the empty space in his bed. His fingers trace the absence of a body that was never there, the phantom feeling of another hand in his wrenching a tight gasp from his lungs.
He wonders what it was he must have done to earn this, that his brain invents new ways to wallow in a misery he should have never known. Itâs the second one now that he's remembered, and he feels daunted by the prospect of what that could mean.
read the fic on ao3
#steddie#steve/eddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie fic#stranger things#st#my writing
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RUNNING UP THAT HILL !
Lucy Gray Baird x fem!reader
Summary: On the faithful day of Reaping Ceremony, you finally became aware of what you've been lacking in your life. Lucy Gray Baird's love. Your one and only childhood friend. You were ready to throw yourself in front of starved wolves for her sake, and you decided to prove it.
Warnings: ANGST / swearing
Word Count: 2.2k
A/n: me trying to write something happy, result:
"and if I only could
i'd make a deal with God
and I'd get Him to swap our places"
- running up that hill by kate bush.
Streets of District 12 was filthy as ever as Y/n and Lucy Gray dragged their feet to The Hub. Tomorrow was the day Reaping was going to happen. Neither of the girls felt any excitement over fourth of july, just like rest of whole twelve districts that were about sacrifice their children to Capitol's psychopathy.
âLucy Gray, you're unusually quite today.â Y/n spoke as she fixed the fruit basket pressed against her side. They were planning to ask Hub if they would let Covey do one last show before reaping, and then make their way to flea market. Maybe they could exchange a piece of clothing for a few strawberries Y/n farmed.
Lucy Gray's face lit up with a smile, Y/n could never differentiate if these smiles were true or not.
âI was thinking of this night's show. I have a song I wish to sing.â That thought made other girl smile. She always loved the infamous Songbirdâs voice and songs.
She ate one of the strawberries from the brown basket. âOh well, I will wait for your song with all ears. However, how do you plan to sing it? You haven't teach us anything about its melody.â Lucy Gray chuckled at her friend's worried tone.
âNo worries, love. I've wrote it over one of our songsâ melody. I think tonight's lyrics fit to it better anyway.â
âI⌠if you say so.â
She could never disobey or say something against her songbirdâs statements. And finally Hub became visible from the distance. Old walls were ready to crumble on its residents but all two girls saw was a roof to gain a few coins.
Lucy Gray held the door open for her since she was clinging into the basket, making sure no strawberries fell out. She nodded her head to her to thank her. Inside was stinking as usual. Smell of mold, poverty and cheap gin. It wasn't like Y/n lived in a clean or new home. However she could never prevent the nausea from rising in her throat every time they entered this place.
Disease and death traveled through the whole Panem without knowing any borders, she didn't have a reason to act wary against The Hub.
Besides the disgusting smell, the place was almost empty. Most of the audience were peacekeepers and they seemed nowhere to be found at this time of day. They were on âdutyâ. More like haunting the poor folk of 12. Y/n thought of it.
Conversations were always made by Lucy Gray, no one could resist the sweet way of the words spilling from her lips. âHi! How have you been, Ben?â She spring on her heels while talking, her alluring personality ready to charm its flies.
Bartender's tense shoulders relaxed when her image entered his vision. âHi, Lucy Gray. I assume you are here to ask if Covey can perform tonight.â Lucy Gray nodded slowly, she jumped to sit on a chair, her legs swung around since they couldn't reach to sub board of the wooden chair.
âAlways a smart one. Yes, I was going to ask if we can perform one last time before Reaping.â Ben sighed while rubbing the dirty cloth to an old striated glass. âI guess you can do it, tomorrow ainâ the brightest day for us after all.â She added a hint of sorrow to her smile.
âBut we must make the most of the lifes we have, mustn't we?â He nodded to approve her statement. âAs much as we can in this shitty district.â
After some chit-chat talk, they left Hub with the guarantee of a few coins to throw in their pockets that night. Y/n watched Lucy Gray's happy expression, the way she spinned around herself, her colorful dressâ long skirt flying around. She loved to admire anything Songbird did.
Flea market wasn't too crowded either. Mourn of unknown loses was already hunting people of District 12. Two or three stalls of clothing seemed to be present. A woman from last week was absent. Poor lady, perhaps she died because God knows what kind of disease or she fell in hands of a peacekeeper.
Y/n intertwined her fingers with Lucy Gray's, moving as close as possible was safer in a place like this. To be honest, staying together was the best choice in all places of 12.
A man with a women's clothing stall caught her eyes. His face was tired and sick, probably had the flu. âLook, maybe we can exchange these strawberries with a pair of shoes. Maude Ivory was sad about Peacekeepers tearing her sandals.â Lucy Gray nodded and followed her lead.
Y/n harshly put the basket in front of the man, leaving a tough first impression was important if they wanted to have a fair exchange.
âAh, famous doves of Covey. What do you have for me?â She could smell of starvation from his breath even at this distance. All she needed to do was to push him a bit.
âA basket of fresh, clean strawberries.â She arched her eyebrow in a daring manner. âDo you really think a basket of fruit can buy clothes?â Man raised his chin. He was stubborn, but could never be as much as Y/n.
âOkay, listen the deal old man. You give us these shoes.â She pointed to an old, worn pair of shoes. âAnd I leave all of these tasty things at your stall. âkay? And if you don't, I can go to another stall.â He looked at the basket then at her face. His mouth was salivating for a taste of anything, and giving away the shoes seemed to be a good option.
âTake the shoes.â
Y/n took a deep breath as relief filled her veins. She emptied the whole basket to an old bag man owned and placed the shoes inside it. Exchange was fair, he wasn't going to die from starvation and Maude Ivory was going to get a pair of wearable shoes.
âDonât you think you've been hard on him?â Lucy Gray mumbled while her index finger lovingly caressed the fabric of the shoe. They would fit the little girl just fine. âBeing nice doesn't grant us any living in District 12.â Y/n shrugged and dismissed her question.
All members of Covey were exhausted from last nightâ performance, which led them to hardly wake up for Reaping. Their house was already hot from weather outside, shattering walls were making it worse by letting the fresh sunlight in.
Y/n, as always, was first to wake up. Even on an effing day like this. A few more hours of sleep wasn't even a choice given the fact Peacekeepers would drag them out to watch Reaping or, to be reaped.
She groaned with ache coursing through her bones, makeshift bed cracked under her weight. Slipping her shoes to her feet, she looked around to check other Covey members. None seemed to have a peaceful slumber, Lucy Gray was sweating, Maude Ivory was panting heavily, Barb Azure's eyebrows were furrowed. The expected disaster made everyone uneasy inside.
She took off her pajamas, her hands extending to the shirt and skirt she wore yesterday. âWhy don't you wear something colorful, love?â Her head practically snapped to the direction the voice came from. Lucy Gray's eyes were closed, yet a subtle smile sat on her sweaty features.
âGood morning.â Y/n murmured as she stood up from her bed. She considered her options. The most fancy thing she owned outside of a few stage clothes was a faded purple dress with flower-covered frills on its skirts. Her hand hesitated when it reached the folded fabric. She got this at the insistence of Lucy Gray and Barb Azure for three coins in the flea market last year. For special days.
What could be more special than the day she would be presumably sent to death in her life?
Accompanied by an ache in her heart for dirting the dress with memories of such a melancholic day, she pulled it over her head, messing up her already disheveled hair more. Stained mirror was reflecting a seventeen year old girl's ruined beauty, face worn by living difficulties.
Two lean arms sneaked around her waist, securing her against the girl behind her. Lucy Gray pressed her chin to her shoulder, observing their imagines from mirror. âYou're beautiful.â She whispered, as if possibility of anyone else stealing her compliment to Y/n scared her.
âSo are you.â She whispered back, unconsciously closing her eyes and leaning to her touch. Silence was comforting, almost like an inaudible lullaby singing to two awake girlsâ ears. âI have a dreadful feeling about this day inside me, something is gnawing at me.â Lucy Gray chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind the ear of the girl in front of her.
âNow don't make such a long face, be positive. Death isn't an end, remember?â At her light words, Y/n turned around with her arms still wrapped around her waist. She cupped her face, looking at her beautiful brown eyes. Maybe they could swallow her, so she would never leave her.
âNo, Lu. You don't get it. Something bad is about to happen. I feel it, you know I always feel it.â Lucy Gray's eyes widened at her hurried sentences. The worst case in a Reaping day would be reaped as their district's tribute. Everyday was a survival struggle in District 12, but being thrown to arena? Now that would be a different story.
With their fingers locked to each other, Y/n dragged her after herself to the little place where they grew strawberries to exchange or sell. âI know that you have no will to trust anyone after Billy Taupe, but just⌠just hear me out.â Brunette furrowed her eyebrows, she wasn't stupid, guessing where the conversation was about to go wasn't hard. But did it matter at this point?
âI am listening, Y/n.â
âWhat are you two doing there?â Maude Ivory's childish voice interrupted her before she can speak. And that killed her last piece of courage to confess her feelings for Lucy Gray.
âNothing, honey. We were just chatting.â She quickly smiled and turned her attention to little girl, she was wearing the pair of shoes they got for her yesterday. âAre they comfortable?â Little girl stared down at her shoes. âYeap. They're so easy to wear! Thank you.â
Her lips pulled themselves into a forced smile. The girl was as naive as a child in districts could be. Perhaps it was because rest of the Covey sought their best to raise their youngest as pure as possible.
People were gathering in front of the stage one by one. Between age 12-18, kids were separated to groups. Covey made their way to their groups. As always, Reaping day was hot and everyone was sweating under cruel sun and stress.
First to go was female tribute. For male tribute, she wasn't worried at all. Clerk Clementine was old enough to be excluded from Reaping.
But what about us?
âLucy Gray Baird!â
She could swear her heart missed a beat, maybe a few beats, when she heard the name. Out of instinct her eyes found Lucy Gray. It looked like she was ready to put on a show one last time.
Lucy Gray began to walk towards the stage.
âI volunteer!â
A desperate voice erupted from between waiting kids. Y/n threw herself in front of Lucy Gray, eyes filled with terror and tears. âI volunteer as tribute!â Brunette extended to hold her hand with shock. âLove, what the hell are you doing?â Girl in front of her turned to look at her with guilt.
Before any word being shared, a peacekeeper caught Y/n's arm, dragging the girl to stage. Lucy Gray tried to run, only to be thrown to ground by another peacekeeper. Even while walking to death, they couldn't take their eyes from each other.
âNo, no, no. I am chosen. You chose me! Give her back!â Maude Ivory wrapped her arms around her as Barb Azure pressed her head to her chest so she couldn't see Y/n.
She stepped on the stage in front of pitying eyes. After all, what kind of moron would throw herself into a lion's den for whatever reason?
Mayor looked at her with grand disgust, as if girl interrupted something she wasnât supposed to. âDistrict 12's female tribute, Y/n L/n.â
She didn't even bother to listen who was chosen as male tribute. Whoever it was, he was going to walk to death with twenty two other tributes.
Whole time she watched the rest of the Covey. They all looked disheveled with one of them being sent to Games.
She didn't even get to confess to her, kiss her, embrace her one last time. Like all District 12 kids before her, she was going to turn into a drop of blood to write Capitol's pages of history. She remembered the hide and seek game the played when they were children.
âYou can't catch me, Lucy Gray!â
She kept her head high, this wasn't a display of pitiful love. That was a worthy sacrifice to keep her darling alive. Everything was worth it to Lucy Gray.
âYou can't catch me anymore, Lucy Gray.â
She whispered, knowing Lucy Gray won't ever hear her again.
Š2024 earthpleasures do not repost, copy, translate, modify
#lucy gray baird#lucy gray x reader#lucy gray my beloved#lucy gray baird x reader#hgg#hunger games#tbosas#angst#hunger games x reader
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strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader
during - part five
series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3
and then it all comes crashing down.
a/n: outbreak day! plus the time leading up. I couldnât bring myself to write joelâs side of the tragedy, but here we are. the start of âduringâ. potentially a little bit of canon-divergence from here until the âafterâ, but Iâm trying to stick with that information we have, while filling in the gaps for readerâs story. (âafterâ will be when they leave boston with ellie)
word count: 4.4k
warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, fluff, a super brief mention of 9/11, this is definitely not as sad as part four but itâs also involves outbreak day so thereâs that, canon-typical violence, death, yes I am turning reader into a badass and I will not apologize.
â¨follow @friskito-library and turn on notifications for updates on new works/chaptersâ¨
You never really stop thinking about him. And he never really stops being apart of your life, not truly.
Heâs the first person you call, when the Towers fall in New York, not a week after youâve started your internship. You see it on television, standing in line to get your boss his daily latte, and you pull out your cell phone without a second thought, dialling Joelâs number. âHave you seen the news?â
A freak snowstorm stops you from getting home for Christmas that year; the airport is a disaster to get through after everything thatâs happened, so you take a few days off to drive it instead, but you canât even get out of the state, let alone across the country. So your holidays that year are spent with local friends youâve made at work, calling your family on Christmas Day and New Yearâs.
You try to call Joel on New Yearâs, to wish him a good year as the clock strikes twelve, but the call goes to voicemail, and your friends are counting down the ball drop as you ramble into the phone.
Hey, itâs me! Just calling to say Happy New Year, hope youâre having a good night. And hope I get to see more of you in 2002. That year sounds so funny, doesnât it? Talk to you soon, Joel Miller. Bye.
You almost say it, the words creeping up the back of your throat. The missing him hasnât abated, even with the time and the distance. You sleep in one of the flannel shirts youâd stolen every night, and youâll admit that you cried a little when you had to wash them, realizing that it would wash the scent of him away almost completely.
The phone calls get more sporadic, and you donât blame him. Thereâs only an hour time difference between Texas and Massachusetts, but it feels like much more. Youâre off-kilter from one another, always seeming to catch each otherâs voicemail instead of the real person.
You manage to make it home for the Fourth of July the following summer, your internship having turned into a real job, but a real job thatâs kept you busier than ever for the first half of the year. Your boss is, blessedly, understanding, and lets you take two weeks to go back to Austin.
He meets you at the airport, your name scrawled on a piece of paper, a bouquet of daisies in his grip, and you nearly burst into tears right there in the terminal. Your entire two weeks is filled with him, though you try to split your time between the Millerâs house and your own, letting your sister talk your ear off more than she already does on the phone, taking a few afternoons to help your dad around the hardware store. But almost every night finds you in Joelâs bed.
You all go to the park for fireworks on the Fourth. Your parents are re-introduced to Joel, though youâre both adamantly just calling each other âgood friendsâ â which earns you an eye roll from your sister. Sarah runs around the field with the other kids, waving sparklers and giggling like mad. You stick close to Joel, the three of you sitting on a blanket in the grass, and you watch the firework together, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm swung around your waist. Sarahâs too preoccupied with the firework display to notice.
When you get home the next morning, your sister hands you a polaroid, the words July 4th 2002 written in sharpie along the border. Itâs you and Joel, backlit, your head on his shoulder as a gigantic white firework explodes in the night sky. You donât know what to say.
âI know you never wanted to leave him,â she says, and you nearly burst into tears as you hug her.
Itâs another tearful goodbye when your two weeks are up, and youâre a fool to think itâd be any easier than the first time. You say goodbye to your parents first, and Joel picks you up in his truck, taking you to the airport. He kisses you deeply outside, burying his hands in your hair and squeezing you tight before letting you go.
And always the same farewell, the same thing he said when you first left, the same thing heâs said at the end of every phone call.
âTake care of yourself, baby.â
+
You meet Dean through a friend of a friend.
Itâs almost Christmas, 2002, and you havenât been home since July. Your phone calls with Joel have dwindled to almost non-existent; you just donât have the time. Work is busy, to the point where you find yourself still sat at your desk until nearly midnight some nights. And youâre still missing each other, voicemails left occasionally, the missed calls stacking up through the week until itâs the weekend and you feel too tired to put yourself through the heartbreak of hearing his voice.
Hey, darlinâ, itâs me. I keep missinâ ya, I guess. Hope youâre doinâ okay. Donât work too hard, yeah? Been thinking about you a lot and I justâŚTake care of yourself.
It felt like a goodbye. Standing in your kitchen, takeout spread out on your counter, chopsticks in hand. He hadnât said it, not specifically. There was no I canât do this anymore, no this hurts too much, doesnât it hurt you too? But it still felt like a finality, of sorts.
You took the takeout to bed with a bottle of wine.
That weekend, your friends drag you out to some party. A housewarming thing for someone you donât know, a fancy loft on the other side of the city. Itâs as good a reason as any to get out of your head, throwing on a new dress and a bit of makeup. You do shots in your apartment before piling into a cab, tipsy by the time you get to the party. Thereâs lots of faces you donât know, your friends pulling you through the crowds, one of them grinning at you.
âYou have to meet Dean.â
Heâs tall. Sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes and heâs a lawyer. He laughs at your jokes and gets you another drink when you finish your first. Heâs from Boston; a pure-bred, he tells you, and chuckles when you ask to see his pedigree.
You wake up in his bed the next day, your dress and shoes scattered on the floor of his stupidly nice apartment, head throbbing with a hangover, guilt bubbling up on your tongue like bile. Dean makes you coffee and calls you a cab, gives you a business card with his number on it. âGod, this feels like a business deal,â he says, shaking his head, nearly taking the card back. âI can find a takeout menu or something, write my number on that instead.â
âNo, this is good,â you laugh, and the guilt mixes with something strangely giddy when he kisses you goodbye.
When you get home, you wrap yourself in the flannel youâd taken from Joel, and weep. Part of you whispers that you shouldnât feel guilty, that Joelâs all the way across the country, that you two arenât technically together to begin with, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest.
Your friend calls in the early afternoon, and when she hears the crack in your voice, sheâs on your doorstep not thirty minutes later. You spill your guts â recount the story of you and Joel, show her the polaroid from the Fourth of July, tell her everything, until youâre crying on your couch again.
âHoney, maybe you should talk to him,â she tells you, and you know sheâs right, but the idea of talking to Joel just makes your chest hurt more. âThis isnât good for either of you, holding on like this when you canât be together. Talk to him.â
Joel beats you to the punch, calling you shortly after your friend has left. âHey, finally got you instead of your voicemail.â
âHah, yeah,â you reply, sinking a little deeper into the couch. âSorry I keep missing you.â
âSâokay,â he mumbles, and it only hurts more when you can almost see him in your head, sitting on his couch or at the edge of his bed, rubbing at the back of his neck. âEverything okay?â
âYeah, yeah, everythingâs fine,â you lie, wiping the wet from your cheeks. âJust busy lately, yâknow?â
âYeah,â he agrees, then pauses. âYou sure youâre okay?â
You inhale deeply, feeling the air rattle its way through your lungs. âJoel, I met someone.â
Itâs a long moment, before he says anything, so long you think youâve lost him for a second, that he hung up. But then, âThatâs good.â
âIs it?â
âNo,â he says instantly, and you both let out watery laughs. âNo, but itâŚIt is good. Youâre all the way out there and Iâm here andâŚMissinâ you, not havinâ you around, it hurts, yâknow?â
âI do,â you agree, biting into your lower lip when it wobbles. âI miss you too, Joel, itâs justââ
âI know, baby,â he replies, and the tone in his voice makes your eyes slip shut, tears pouring down your cheeks. âI gotta go, I promised Sarah movie night. WeâllâŚ.weâll talk soon, alright?â A pause. âTake care of yourself.â
The line goes dead for real then, and you launch your phone across the room, groaning when it lands on the carpet and doesnât smash to pieces. You bury yourself in the pillows on the couch, and just cry.
Dean calls the following week, and asks you out to dinner. Dinner evolves into more than that, more dates and more conversation. He works two blocks down from you, and brings you coffee every morning on his way to his office. He takes you to museums and art galleries and introduces you to his friends. Itâs easy to fall for him, and you let yourself do it. He kisses you at midnight on New Yearâs, whispers that 2003 is going to be the best year of your lives.
You have no idea how wrong he will turn out to be.
+
Itâs September 26th, 2003. Itâs your twenty-fifth birthday.
It starts out like a normal day; as normal as it can be, lately. Youâve made a point to ignore the news as best you can, letting Dean recap it for you when he gets home each day, filling you in on the water cooler talk that you only half listen to.
Deanâs up and gone when you wake up, but thereâs a birthday card beside your pillow, a cartoon cake with a silly face. Youâre another year older⌠And the inside reads: and other year cuter! Happy Birthday! Itâs cheesy and you scoff out a laugh, getting up and going about your morning routine. A fire truck screams down the road when you walk out of the building, cop cars trailing after it, but you think nothing of it; sirens are a common occurrence in the city.
Itâs a short walk from your apartment â the apartment you now share with Dean, the pair of you having relocated somewhere that was closer to both your jobs â to work, and you stop by your favourite coffee shop, only slightly disappointed when they donât have the raspberry scones you like. âItâs a supply chain thing,â the girl behind the counter tells you with a shrug. âThey havenât been able to get ingredients in for weeks. Iâm just glad we have coffee.â
âThat makes two of us,â you agree, taking your cup with a nod. âHave a good day!â
âYou, too!â
Thereâs a big bouquet of roses waiting on your desk, the card signed with Deanâs name, and the other girls ooh and ahh at the arrangement. One of them asks you if you think heâll propose, and you have to resist the urge to sprint in the opposite direction.
Dean calls on your lunch break, tells you heâs already pre-ordered from your favourite Thai place, and itâll be waiting for you when you get home from your post-work drinks with your friends. When he tells you he loves you, it still makes your chest ache, just a touch.
You still think about Joel. Itâs hard not to. After that last call, when you told him youâd met Dean, you called back a few days later, unable to stop yourself. There were apologies, from both him and you, and the conversation ended with a promise that youâd still stay in touch, that it would still be friendly between you, and that maybe someday could be an option, if the time was right, but you wouldnât stand in each otherâs way.
So youâve stayed in touch. The phone calls are still more sporadic than anything, but itâs always nice to hear his voice, and he always has a joke to crack. And, consistent Joel Miller, at the end of every phone call: âTake care of yourself, darlinâ.â
You get a surprising amount of work done that day, your friends appearing at five oâclock on the dot and dragging you away from your computer. You let them buy you happy hour drinks and put a Birthday Princess tiara on your head, laugh your way through the evening until itâs almost nine. You thank you friends and leave the bar, and think as you walk past one of the little corner store grocery shops that you could really use a chocolate bar.
Youâre walking down the toiletries aisle, the basket hanging from your elbow filled with not just chocolate, but a few other things you couldnât resist, when your phone rings, an Austin area code flashing on the screen.
âI didnât know today was your birthday,â Joel says by way of hello, and you giggle. âHow have I known you this long and not known that you and I have the same birthday?â
âYou never asked,â you answer, reaching for a tissue box with a fun pattern, âand it never came up, really. Wait, todayâs your birthday too?â
âThirty-six and still breathinâ,â he confirms, and you canât help the grin that spreads across your face. âI stopped by the hardware store today for a few things, your dad told me.â
âAhh.â Your parents had called you just before youâd left for work. âThat store must be so boring without me in it.â
âIt really is,â Joel agrees, and then his voice drops. âNo one around to make out with in the aisles.â A beat, and then. âSorry.â
âDonât be,â you say quickly, shaking your head even though you know he canât see it, the memory of being pressed between the shelves of paint cans and Joel Miller making your face heat. âItâs a good memory.â
âIt is,â he agrees, making a little humming noise. âSo, boyfriend got big plans for you tonight?â
âThai food and a movie,â you tell him, grabbing a bottle of toilet cleaner. âJust left the bar, had some drinks with my work friends. Never really been a big birthday person, yâknow?â
âYouâre preaching to the choir, darlinâ.â
âWhat about you, Joel Miller?â you ask, heading down the next aisle. A lot of the shelves are empty, and it makes your brow furrow. âWhat big birthday plans do you have this evening?â
âHah, none,â he replies. âWorking a double with Tommy, just took a break now. Told Sarah Iâd be home by nine, but I donât know if thatâll work out. They gave us the wrong size for the headers andâŚâ He trails off. âThat doesnât mean anything to you, does it?â
âIâd listen to you read the phone book,â you joke. âAt least get yourself a cake? Something like that? If Iâd known we shared the same birthday I would have had my sister bring something over for you.â
âSarah made me breakfast, got me out of bed on time. Thatâs all I need, really.â
âIs it?â
You donât mean the question to sound as heavy as it does, and silence hangs between you for a long moment before you stutter out an apology. Joelâs quick to change the subject.
âBoyfriend is still your boyfriend, right? No ring on your finger yet?â
âYou know, youâre the second person to bring that up today,â you say, heading down the next aisle. Itâs just as empty as the one before, and your confusion deepens. âYou want the truth?â
âGenerally.â
âIf he asked, I donât think Iâd say yes.â Heat rises in your face, and you stutter again. âIâm sorry, I donât know why Iâm telling you this.â
âYou can tell me anything,â he replies, and thereâs a softness in his tone that you recognize, making warmth spread through your chest. âIâm always here for you, darlinâ. I know things are different now, but Iâm still here.â
âI appreciate that.â
You hear Tommyâs voice in the background, and Joel curses under his breath. âI gotta go. Enjoy your night. Happy Birthday.â
âYou, too. Happy Birthday, Joel,â you reply, a smile in your voice, and then the line clicks off.
You loop through the rest of the aisles, sliding your phone back into your pocket. When you ask the cashier about the empty shelves, you get the same answer youâd gotten at the coffee shop. âSupply chain issues.â
The apartment is quiet when you get inside, tossing your keys into the bowl beside the door. The Thai food is sitting on the counter, as promised, and you set your grocery bags down beside it, stealing a few noodles before calling for Dean. âHoney, Iâm home!â
Thereâs no response, and you assume he must be in the shower, so you pad down the hall. The bedroom light is off, moonlight flooding through the window, and as you step into the doorway, you see him, standing there, facing the window. His hands are at his sides, and as you watch, his hand twitches, the movement making your brow furrow.
âDean?â you call, taking a half-step forward. In an instant, something feels wrong, and worry rises in your chest, makes your heart racket against your ribs. âBabe, whatâs going on?â
He turns then, so fast you canât even blink before it happens. And he justâŚstares. Thereâs no light in his eyes, just a dead look that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You say his name again, the worry seeping into your voice, and then he snarls.
âFuck.â
You donât understand whatâs happening, but your body seems to react of itâs own accord. Dean lunges toward you, an inhuman sound falling out of him, and your eyes skirt around, looking for something to protect yourself with as he scrambles over the bed, limbs flailing, those dead eyes boring into you. Your hand flashes out, curling around the leather-wrapped handle of the baseball bat, and as youâre knocked to the ground, you use it as a barrier, shoving the metal against his chest.
His face is all wrong. Itâs not just the dead eyes; his teeth are yellowed and his gums blackened as he snaps at you, trying to claw at you. White marks have risen all over his face, spreading out like a map beneath his skin.
What the fuck is going on?
You manage to plant your foot on his chest, and shove with all your might, yelling as the movement makes your knees twinge. He doesnât go far, but itâs enough to get him off of you, and you scramble backwards, throwing the door shut as you run for the kitchen, the bat held tightly in your grasp. Heart racing, you find the biggest knife you can in the kitchen, sucking down hurried breaths. Youâre in shock.
Thereâs a flash of red outside the balcony door, and you turn to see flames explode from the building across from yours. On the streets below, cars start to crash into each other, the sound of sirens twice as loud. You can hear people screaming, even through the glass.
A loud bang pulls you back into the apartment, and you turn just as Dean comes sprinting down the hall, losing his balance and skidding across the carpet. You throw the kitchen knife as he lunges for you, but it misses, the blade bouncing off his chest and sliding beneath the coffee table. A guttural growl echoes through the apartment, and when he leaps at you, you swing.
Your first hit smacks his shoulder. It doesnât do much, but he lets out a pained yowl and when you swing again, thereâs a sickening crack. He swipes at you, lunging again as you stumble backwards through the living room, the couch toppling over as you both fall onto it. His fingers dig into your shoulder and you scream, pain radiating through your arm, but you tighten your grip on the bat and ram the end of it into his face.
Another growl, another swing. You manage to get to your feet, blood pouring down your arm, painting your blouse crimson, and you put the kitchen island between you and him, moving quickly, keeping the bat held high.
When he jumps again, you swing. Hard. The bat connects with his temple, his neck cracking loudly as his head snaps to the side, and he slumps to the ground, blood pouring from his mouth. The metal rings as you drop the bat, collapsing onto the kitchen floor a moment later, blinding grabbing for one of the dishrags hanging from the stove, covering your shoulder with it and clamping your hand over the wound.
Why is this happening?
Youâre not quite sure how long youâre sat there, curled against the cabinets. The bleeding on your shoulder slows, but doesnât stop completely, and youâre starting to feel lightheaded. Not just the blood loss, you know, but the shock. Deanâs body has stopped twitching, but thereâs something seeping out of his mouth, curling across the tile. When you spot the movement, youâre on your feet in a second, blinking past the momentary wooziness, grabbing the bat again.
When you click on the television, a loud beep echoes, nothing but a black screen, and you try to change the channel, but itâs the same on every one. Finally, the beep ends, and a robotic voice takes its place.
âŚindoors. Law enforcement and emergency services are in the area and will be in contact with further instructions. Stay indoorsâŚ
Over and over again.
Your arm is pulsing, the rag on your shoulder wet with blood. You need to clean it, you think. You need some water, you need toâ
The phone starts ringing. Your phone. Cell phone. Where you left it, in your purse. Your purse is by the door, across the apartment. You have to walk around Dean to get there, and you go slow, your eyes glued to his unmoving form. The bat is still in your hand, the end of it dragging over the carpet as you walk towards the door. Another metallic noise when it hits hardwood.
Your eyes are still on Dean as you dig in your purse, on the thing still coming out of his mouth, crawling along the grout lines in the tile. Out, out, out, you need to get out, you need to get away, you need toâ
Your fingers close around your cell. Hit the button, bring it to your ear.
âAre you safe?â Joel barks, and you nearly drop the phone, the sound of his voice slamming you back into your head, your breath hitching so hard you almost choke. âBaby, where are you?â
âHome,â you cry, leaning against the wall, gripping the bat so hard your knuckles hurt. âI-I got home and Dean, he justâŚheâŚIâŚâ You wheeze, your breath not enough, your head feeling lighter, your vision spotting with black. âHeâs dead. Iâm bleeding.â
âItâs everywhere,â he says, his voice low, and he keeps talking, but you donât think heâs talking to you. You space out, your gaze glued to the body on your floor, until Joel says your name. âWhy are you bleeding? What happened?â
âHeâŚâ you trail off, your eyes focusing on Deanâs bloody knuckles, limp on the kitchen floor. âHe grabbed me, heâŚhe was trying to bite me.â
âDid he?â
âNo,â you say, your voice sounding a bit more sure. You shake your head, pressing your palm against your shoulder. The pain spikes, but it helps, clears your head a bit. âItâs a scratch. Deep.â
âYou need to clean it, you hear me?â Joel says. âPatch yourself up, baby, all right? You have a first aid kit?â
You drop the bat, pressing the back of your hand against your forehead. Youâre shaking. âIn the bathroom.â
âGood, go, do it now. Iâm not hanging up until you do.â
You reach for the bat again, use it as a prop to get back to your feet. You cast Deanâs still form one more glance before retreating down the hallway. Heâd burst through the bedroom door, and wood splinters cover the floor, the door still half on its hinge, split down the middle.
âJoel, why is this happening?â you ask, your voice climbing, fear taking over. You get into the bathroom, momentarily shaken by your appearance in the mirror. Your hair wild, the blood smeared along your chest and neck, your stained and torn blouse. âWhat is happening?â
âI donât know,â he replies, and the thread of fear in his voice makes tears spring in your eyes. âBut I want you to listen to me, okay? You patch yourself up, you grab what you can, and you run. You understand? Get in your car and get out of the city, as fast as you can. You donât wait, you donât stop for anyone, and you just keep going.â
You nod for a moment before you realize he canât see you. âOkay. What do IâŚ?â
âIâll find you, baby,â he says, and the surety in his voice makes everything in you ache. âIâm gonna find you, you hear me? Just get out of Boston and I swear to you, Iâmââ
Static. Dead air. Gone.
âJoel? No, come back, Joel, pleaseââ You stare at the phone, try to redial the number, hit the button over and over and over and over. No signal, the screen informs you.
Nothing. Nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat, the rapid pulse against your ribs, the breaths that seem to rattle through your lungs. Outside of that, silence.
You slam the phone down, slam your hands against the bathroom sink.
âJoel!â
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