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dearly-somber · 2 months ago

Text

get high | h.it

-> pairing. it-boy!intak x female reader

-> genre. high school!au, acquaintances-to-???, pwp plot what plot (this fic is vibes only)

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 2190

-> warnings. weed, making out, kind of dub-cony ngl 😭, suggestive ending

-> a/n. I’ve never smoked weed before, so if anything’s inaccurate feel free to edumacate me🤡👍🏻 Also: I have nothing against weed or the people who smoke it as long as it’s done responsibly and in a safe environment 😌

-> collection. misc

-> started. Mar. 19th, 2024 @ 22:40

-> fin. Sun., Oct. 20th, 2024 @ 22:48

-> edited. Tues., Oct. 22nd, 2024 @ 13:20

-> divider credit. @xxbimbobunnyxx

You‘ve never understood the “hype” around weed.

Granted, you’d grown up in a very anti-drug household, so you went into high school with the mindset that whatever long term negative effects occurred after smoking weed would far outweigh the momentary high you’d heard people talk about on so many occasions.

Except, you’d never expected yourself to acquaint yourself with Hwang Intak: one of the most popular kids in senior year, Intak was well-known for his chill house-parties and phenomenal dance skills—a total catch and in with the so called “it-group”, he wasn’t someone you saw yourself ever interacting with, let alone befriending.

That was, of course, before you realized you shared nearly half your classes with him.

You weren’t very popular—sure, people knew you (it was impossible not to when you’d befriended a hoard of social butterflies and were known at least visually for your intimidating, no-nonsense RBF), but you’d never truly made friends with any of the kids higher up in the social hierarchy than “is friends with popular kids but isn’t actually popular themselves”.

So imagine your surprise when, on a seemingly random Tuesday morning during one of your double accounting periods, Hwang Intak strolled up to your desk with a friendly smile on his face, his voice light and airy as he asked, “You’re Y/N, right?”

From there, you’d started talking more and more, until one day he cornered you on your way to your locker after your sixth period, leaning against the wall as he spoke.

“You free this weekend?” he asked.

You raised your brow skeptically, looking warily over your shoulder at people making grouchy faces at having to step around you to get to where they needed to go. “I don’t think so, why?”

He grabbed your forearm and pulled you into his bubble and out of the way of the bustling student body.

You gulped up at him, cursing the heat you felt crawling up your throat at the closeness between you.

“I’m having a small get together with some friends to celebrate my birthday,” he said, putting his hands in his pocket as he tilted his head against the brick wall next to you. “I was wondering if you’d wanna join.”

Your eyes widened. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Uhm… I mean, I—yeah, sure, I’ll be there,” you coughed, thanking the heavens above he seemed not to be focusing on your neck; you could feel how hot you’d gotten without needing to check first.

“Cool,” he said. “I’ll see you this weekend.” He smiled charmingly and began walking towards the staircase (where you belatedly realized a group of his friends were waiting for him), but panicked a little realizing you had no idea where to meet him.

“Intak!”

He turned around with a hum, his eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

You cleared your throat, rocking on the balls of your feet. “Where are we meeting?”

“Ah,” he laughed, walking back to you with a grin so captivating you were surprised your mouth wasn’t hanging open. “You have a pen?”

“A—uh, yeah, hold on, lemme just” —you dug around in your bag for your pencil case before pulling out a black pen and handing it to him, perplexed.

Your eyes widened when he reached once again for your forearm, ducking his head as he shook the pen out and began writing what you assumed was his number on your exposed skin, drawing a weirdly symmetrical, grinning heart with little devil-horns and a tail at the end.

“There we go,” he said, tucking the pen into your emblem pocket with a boyish grin.

He laughed at your bewildered expression as he backtracked toward his friends, the look he gave you sending a hoard of butterflies loose in the pit of your stomach. “See you soon, Y/N! I’ll text you the details!”

“I, uh” —you pinched yourself— “yeah, okay!”

Now, you’re probably wondering—what does any of that have to do with weed?

Well… maybe it’s easier to just show you.

“Y/NNNN!” Intak grinned at you from his couch, shamelessly eyeing you up and down as you walked sheepishly into his living room.

You waved awkwardly, feeling heat creep up the column of your throat when he giggled and waved back, a dumb grin on his face.

You fiddled with the hem of your white skirt, tugging the sleeves of your black Kuromi sweater over your fingers as one of Intak’s older friends, Choi Jiung, ushered you to sit between Intak’s legs.

“So…” You cleared your throat, crossing your spread legs at the ankles so you didn’t have to worry about accidentally exposing anything you didn’t want exposed. You forced a relaxed smile. “What are we doing?”

Jiung laughed good-naturedly, pulling a girl you didn’t recognize into his lap. “We’re smoking,” he said with a smile, his eyebrows furrowing in curiosity as he asked, “Have you smoked before?”

You hummed uncertainly, fiddling with your fingers—the heat of Intak’s legs against your arms was making it incredibly difficult to think. “No, I don’t really smoke…”

The girl in Jiung’s lap’s eyes widened. “What? Never?”

You shook your head.

“Not even once?”

“No,” you whispered, resisting the sudden urge to spring up and dash for the door.

“Ash,” Intak reprimanded, shifting in his seat.

Just as you were about to turn your head to look at him, his breath hit the back of your ear, his hands on your shoulders and a smile in his voice.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he assured you. “It’ll help you relax, though.”

He massaged your shoulders to emphasize his point and you tried very hard not to squeak in surprise.

Since when was Hwang Intak so good with his hands?

“You wan’ a hit?” Jiung offered, holding a joint out to you with wide eyes and raised brows; weirdly innocent-looking considering the situation you were in.

You swallowed a lump in your throat.

On the one hand, you were kind of scared. What if all those things your parents had said were true? That one hit meant you’d be a goner forever and start doing hardcore drugs because you’d started with the “Gateway”? That if you started now you’d become immediately enslaved to the high and never recover?

But, despite those worries, despite those fears…

Intak hadn’t stopped massaging your shoulders—rather, he’d dragged his hand to the base of your neck, gently pressing his forefinger against your pulse-point before sliding it down to brush across your exposed collarbone.

Thank the heavens he chose not to comment on the shiver that shot up your spine, but it was clear in the little huff of air behind you that he found your reaction amusing.

Really, you were curious. And maybe you wanted to impress him.

Just a little bit.

So you nodded, smiling awkwardy as Ash—Jiung’s girlfriend(?)—whooped and clapped with an obnoxious laugh of encouragement.

You took the already-lit joint from Jiung, holding it between your pointer finger and thumb, inspecting it.

Intak giggled, “Just put it to your lips and pull.” His chest expanded with the amount of air he sucked in through his teeth, letting out an exhale with an exaggerated grunt of relief.

You nodded uncertainly, releasing a nervous breath before bringing the joint up to your lips.

“There we go,” he whispered next to your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder as his hands ran up and down your arms; bold from the cannabis or because you were in his house, you didn’t know.

Not that you really cared, anyway.

You mimicked Intak’s movements and set the roll down in a coughing fit, waving your hand in front of your face like it’d stave off the aching burn traveling from the back of your throat all the way through to your lungs.

It took a couple of seconds for you to stop coughing, looking around the room with your hand fisted in front of your mouth and tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

You met the expectant eyes of Ash and Jiung—and then you… laughed. And you laughed a little more, and some more, until you were giggling dumbly because why were they looking at you like that!

“Atta girl!” Jiung hooted, leaning far back into his chair before taking another hit from his own blunt.

“How d’you feel?” Intak asked, his eyes lighting up when you turned your head to look at him proper. His pupils were visibly dilated, sucking you in a little like a black hole.

You grinned, leaning back against his knee.

“I feel good,” you slurred, letting your eyes roam his face and grinning when he seemed to smile brighter because of it. “Really good,” you admit.

“Yeah?” Intak said, licking his lips. “Calmer?”

“Mmm…” You dragged your lower lip between your teeth and indulged in the wonderful cartwheel your stomach did as Intak watched the motion with rapt attention.

“Now,” Ash clapped her hands together, wiggling her eyebrows with a devilish smirk. “Let’s play truth or dare.”

“Y/N!” Ash yelled, completely indifferent to Jiung’s lips attached to her neck, “truth or dare?”

You hummed playfully, still leaned back against Intak’s leg.

You’d mellowed out considerably since you had your first pull around twenty minutes ago—you were leaning against Intak like it was normal and the hand he was running through your hair didn’t even make you bat an eye.

“Dare,” you said with a grin, light and happy and relaxed—more relaxed than you’d been during summer break!

Ash grinned mischievously, bringing a hand up to pull at Jiung’s hair, looking at him over her shoulder with a vicious smile. “I dare you to kiss Intak.”

“That’s boring,” Jiung panted, his cheeks tinged pink as he licked his lips and watched Ash with a furrowed brow, head tilted back with her firm grip in his hair.

She rolled her eyes, but turned to you and said, “Fine. I dare you to kiss Intak’s tongue.”

You licked your lips with an excited giggled, using Intak’s knees to push yourself up before turning around to smile at him with a happy sway in your step.

Intak watched you with a lazy grin as you walked between his legs, setting your hands beside his waist and leaning forward at a 90° angle to connect your mouths in an easy kiss.

“Yah!” Ash laughed, the sound breaking the two of you apart. “That’s not his tongue!”

You giggled and waved her off, looking down at Intak with hooded eyes.

“Stick your tongue out,” you ordered, staring at his mouth like a starved animal.

Intak grinned, watching you like a puppy watches his owner as he obediently stuck his tongue out, leaning cockily back into the couch.

With a surprising ease, you leant down and touched your lips to his tongue, so intrigued by the feel of it you gave it a little kitten lick of your own.

Intak groaned as he grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you in for a very heated kiss, sticking his tongue in your mouth and tilting his head for better access.

You were on cloud nine and vaguely floaty, setting your hands on his upper thighs to keep yourself from wobbling over.

You only pulled away after Jiung let out a low whistle, Intak, lips red and swollen with a possessive hand on the nape of your neck and a hungry, nearly insatiable look in his eyes.

“Well, shit,” Ash laughed, leaning back against Jiung’s shoulder. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Y/Nie.”

You licked your lips as Intak leant up to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lip, a confused noise leaving you when he suddenly pushed himself to standing.

You felt a little flip in the pit of your stomach at how tall he suddenly felt now that you weren’t towering over him, biting on your lip as he grabbed your hand.

“Let’s go to my room, hm?” he asked, not really waiting for an answer as he lead you to the stairs. “Get some privacy.”

You waved to Jiung and Ash (though neither of them waved back because they’d opted to start sucking each other’s faces off), watching with a growing fire the way Intak’s back muscles moved when he walked.

“You’re a good kisser,” you complimented as he lead you upstairs, laughing when he brought you into his room. He shut but did not lock the door behind him.

“Yeah?” he smirked. “How good?

“Very,” you assured, eagerly standing on the tips of your toes and wrapping your arms around his shoulders so you could keep kissing him.

“Mmm,” he hummed against your lips, guiding you back until the two of you were laying flat on the edge of his bed, his hands running up to trace the bare skin under your shirt. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

You nipped his lip, sighing into his mouth when he gave your waist a little squeeze. “I’m a little out of practice,” you panted.

He chuckled, pulling away to give you a devilish smirk. “We can practice.”

And so practice you did.

#p1harmony x reader #p1h x reader #hwang intak x reader #p1h intak #p1harmony intak #kpop fanfic #kpop fic #kpop fanfiction #kpop ff #kpop x reader #ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanfic #ff #fic #ao3 fic #p1h fic #p1harmony fic

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years ago

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My Future in You | 2.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, enemies to lovers kinda thing, mentions of pregnancy / birth complications, mentions of not eating frequently, lack of hunger

…

The drive home in silence just gives Bradley’s anger time to multiply, growing until he’s so restless that his car door is open before the engine is even off. He slams it behind him, knuckles white around the strap of his bag as he walks around to the front door. That slams too.

It startles you, making you flinch and almost drop the mug in your hand. The now lukewarm coffee that you’ve been trying to sip at for an hour spills down onto the white of your sweater. It’s just a small mark, easy enough to ignore.

His brows knit together slightly as he catches sight of your face from the other end of your open living space. The whole way here, it had felt like he practically had steam coming out of his ears. His palms are still reddish and warm from how tightly he was grabbing the wheel. But, he sees it in the way you’re looking at him and knows that his thing — all of the anger, resentment, blinding rage that Mav brings up in him — it doesn’t matter.

Immediately, he lets his bag, and everything that seeing Mav had just stirred up within him, go.

“What’s wrong?” He’s already rushing forwards, heading for you.

You had promised yourself that you wouldn’t do this and that you wouldn’t freak him out by crying. It just happens. A soft, heartbroken squeak as he reaches you and you throw yourself against his chest.

“Did something happen at the appointment?” He breathes out, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing.

“It’s — it’s not that bad, but he…” You have to pull back and force yourself to breathe to even attempt at the words. “He’s smaller than he should be, and the doctor gave me this pamphlet, and I’ve just been freaking out all day.”

Bradley secures you against him with one arm and turns his attention to the little orange leaflet on the counter with a smiling baby girl with glasses on the front of it. He presses his lips softly to the top of your head. With his free hand, he cautiously opens up the front page.

Your hands curl into the fabric of his khakis, breathing him in, pulling him closer to you. It takes him a few moments, to read what it says and to process it. He never once lets you go.

Just giving a small shake of his head, he exhales and squeezes you closer. “Okay. What did the doctor say we need to do?”

“I need to go for a blood test on Friday and another ultrasound on Tuesday. She said that I should be eating healthy, and more frequently, um — eight hours of sleep, rest. If it’s fetal growth restriction then he could have issues during birth or even after.”

Bradley cups your face in his hands and nods slowly. You can feel his heartbeat in his chest and it just doesn’t make sense that he’s able to appear so calm when you know that he isn’t.

“Okay,” He nods, his voice low. “Alright. When was the last time you ate?”

“I had a sandwich for lunch but I just don’t feel hungry, I’ve been crying all day.” You mumble out as he presses closer to you, smoothing a large palm down your back. You nuzzle your cheek against his shirt, exhaling slowly.

Both of you stand in the kitchen, holding each other close, shit scared of what this means. This future that you have committed absolutely everything to, this little thing that you’re so ready to love, and the fear that there could be absolutely no way of protecting it.

Bradley closes his eyes and turns his face towards yours, hugging you closer. His memories of his dad are fuzzy. His memories of his mother back then are fuzzy too. He doesn’t remember her crying much. He remembers them laughing a lot. Standing here, he wishes he had at least one clear memory left — just so that he’d know what to do now.

Most people probably get to share these worries with their parents, to ask them these questions. You’ve just got each other.

He doesn’t know what to do. The silence is setting in and the orange on that pamphlet feels like it’s becoming more obnoxious by the second.

“Well, I’ll cook tonight, and I’ll be really offended if you don’t finish what I make you.” It’s half playful, he presses his lips to your cheek and pulls back to look at you, fingers trembling against your sides, “It’s just been a stressful couple of months, you just need to relax these last few weeks. ‘M gonna take care of you.”

Crowded against the kitchen counter, you take a few seconds to just be held by him, tucking yourself back in against his chest.

You imagine your mother, probably staring at those six missed calls and feeling smug with herself — knowing that you’d have come crawling back for help eventually. You’re an idiot for thinking that she would’ve been able to help. You tug Bradley closer and press your face into his shoulder. Maybe she’s not really doing that. Maybe she’s sitting there and wondering if she should call you back. Either way, it doesn’t matter.

Everything you’ve given up and gone through, this new family that you’ve scraped together, it’s all that you need.

“You wanna come to the store with me or you wanna take a nap?” Bradley asks you, smoothing his hands down along your middle.

Your answer is immediate, filling the air before silence has a chance to set in.

“I don’t want to be on my own.” You admit, exhaling softly into the warmth of his chest. Bradley nods and kisses your temple. He keeps it to himself that he’s pleased with your answer. After the mood he was in and the day that you’ve had, he just wants you where he can see you.

So, the two of you take your car. It’s easier to get into than trying to haul yourself up into the bronco these days. It’s more of a family car. It’s crazy, actually, how much you’re starting to look like a family. Him, in his uniform and an arm draped around you, your hand resting on your swollen stomach.

He drives with his hand on your thigh, your arm looped through his. Then, once you’re in the store, he pushes the cart with you at his side.

“I could ask you what you want, or I could surprise you. What are you two in the mood for?” Bradley asks, leaning down to kiss the top of your head as you hug his arm.

“I’m not hungry, I don’t know.” You shake your head softly.

“Surprise it is.” Bradley decides, taking his arm out from the loop you’re holding it in and draping it around your shoulders instead. He pulls you in against his side and presses his palm over both of your eyes, covering your vision with a sudden darkness.

“Bradley, I’m seriously going to fall break my face!” You gasp, grabbing at his hand. You don’t even notice it. He beams with pride as you smile, finally.

He nudges you in front of him, between him and the cart, laughing softly as he guides you forwards, blind. “Have a little faith in me, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Just can’t risk you seeing my ingredients and ruining my surprise.”

“You’re an idiot,” You giggle, grabbing tightly onto the cart to steady yourself. He grins, kissing your cheek. “I’m so scared right now.”

“Scared? — C’mon, Mama, you’ve gotta start trusting me. I’ve got you.” Bradley teases, pressing his mouth to you jaw, pressing his chest into your back and making your laugh harder. He slows you, then stops. “Stay there, I’m grabbing something. Don’t open your eyes.”

Your heart flutters as his hands briefly leave you. There’s a chill in the supermarket without his body crowding around you to keep you warm. He’s back quickly anyway, something clatters into the cart.

“What a beautiful family you are!” The voice is soft, pleasant sounding. An older lady. You peek one eye open and find her beaming at you from a few feet away.

“Thank you.” Bradley answers, surging with pride as he puts a polite amount of space between you and him, still close enough to keep you bracketed between him and the cart.

“You’ll do just fine, making each other laugh like that,” Her eyes as crinkling at the corners, a smile spreading across her aged face. She looks fondly between the two of you, then nods. “Congratulations on the little one. How lovely. Your first?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Bradley answers. You almost sigh in relief that he’s not choosing now to try to make funny jokes.

“How lucky they will be, to have parents so in love.” She smiles. Bradley’s hand covers yours over the top of the cart, knitting his fingers through yours. Neither one of you says a word, at first. You’ve not said that yet. Technically, you’ve only been together for a few weeks. “You two have a lovely day.”

“You too, thank you.” Bradley remains polite, smiling at her softly. She looks the two of you over, fondly, almost reminiscent, and then she walks away.

Bradley catches you off guard, tearing you back away from your own thoughts as he covers your eyes once more. His lips press to your earlobe as he growls playfully, “You better not have checked out my ingredients, Seresin.”

“You’re paranoid.” You tell him, blinded under his palm, grinning dumbly as you let him guide you forwards again.

He hums playfully, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck, “Mm, I just know what Seresins are like.”

“Your baby’s going to be one,” You point out. He chuckled behind you. “You’re gonna be outnumbered.”

He uses his hold on your face to turn your head, leaning over your shoulder and kissing your lips. “Can’t wait.”

So, like the love-sick fool that you are, you let him lead you blindly around the grocery store, whispering jokes into your ear and planting playful kisses onto your neck. Your heart’s swollen and you’re so confused about how it could ever have been hurt by this same person.

Finally, after making you promise not to look several times, he uncovers your eyes and hands you the keys. Your feet are sore and there’s no point waiting in the checkout line with him. He watches you waddle out of the store with a dumb grin on his face.

It makes him want to grin as big as he can, watching the changes that come with your pregnancy. Not being able to tie your shoe laces anymore, knocking things off of the bathroom counter with your belly — waddling is a new one. It’s a special type of adorable, he’s certain that he’ll never grow tired of seeing it.

Loading your items onto the checkout, he pulls his phone from his pocket and waits, unaware of the eyes on him.

It was made abundantly clear earlier, that Bradley had no desire to speak to Maverick. He had turned, looked, and swiftly walked away. That familiar red flush covering his face and neck. He’s had that since he was in diapers, blushing a deep shade of pink whenever he was upset about something.

But now, for Maverick to be standing in a grocery store, staring at the kid that he hasn’t seen in almost two years, for the second time in the same day — it feels like fate.

He drops his items down onto a random shelf and silently walks towards the checkout as Bradley loads his groceries back into the cart.

“Bradley?”

Bradley looks up, finding Pete staring at him again. His face goes blank, and he straightens up like a cat raising its heckles. Pete doesn’t move. Bradley turns swiftly and walks out of the store without a word.

You get out of the car as you see him coming, your smile fading slightly as you notice the look on his face. That hardened, terracotta flushed look.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, let’s just go home.” Bradley practically tears open the trunk. Your brows draw together as you watch him load the groceries into it.

There’s a feeling, something in your peripheral that makes you turn your head. There’s a man standing by the edge of the parking lot, the colour drained from his face, staring right at you.

Pete’s head spins, heat flooding his nerves.

Looking at Bradley already feels like he’s got to be eye-to-eye with a ghost. Now, he’s standing there and suddenly it’s the summer of 1984, and his best friend’s about to have a kid. The picture’s fuzzy now, as it sits in Pete’s wallet, but it’s clear as day in his mind. Goose and Carole on the end of the Santa Monica boardwalk. She’s so pregnant that she could barely walk, but she was beaming — she had demanded to go to the beach that day.

He studies the crystal clear image before him now. Bradley in his khakis from work. The pregnant girl who’s smile has just faded, staring back at him.

Bradley takes one look at your face and then turns, following your gaze.

“Do you know that guy?” You ask gently, glancing up at Bradley.

“Wait in the car for me.” He answers you, slamming the trunk shut and turning. His pace is purposeful, storming across the parking lot until he’s almost nose-to-nose with Pete.

“What do you want?” Bradley spits.

“You… You’re having a kid?” Pete breathes out, confused, shaking his head. The reality of it hasn’t quite set in yet.

“I said: what do you want?” The same angry kid as he knew before stands in front of him again. Pete shakes his head again.

“You’re not ready to be a parent.”

“Just like I wasn’t ready to be a pilot?” Bradley answers back. You watch from beside the car as he steps closer to the older man, squaring his shoulders like he’s about to hit him.

“Think about your future! I mean — have you even thought this throu—“

“Don’t talk to me about my future after what you did.” He barks, loud enough for you to hear finally, eyes ablaze, shoulders squared. Maverick always forgets how much Bradley has grown. He looks up slightly as Bradley walks closer to him.

Maverick looks now to you, with one hand on your stomach and a confused look on your face.

“This isn’t what I wanted for you.” Maverick admits quietly. He’s not sure what makes him say it, it’s already too late, you look pretty far along. But, he says it anyway. When it comes to Bradley, there’s this intense need to do the right thing that usually propels him into doing the wrong thing.

“I didn’t mean — I shouldn’t have —“ Maverick stutters, shaking his head. It always ends like this. He always does the wrong thing. He sees the worry in your eyes. He always upsets Bradley without meaning to. “I’m sorry. Can we talk about this?”

“I don’t give a shit what you want, Mav,” Bradley shakes his head, disbelief. He stops walking finally and points a finger into Pete’s chest, deadly serious — less emotional than last time. “Stay the fuck away from me, stay the fuck away from my family.”

Blue eyes widened, serious, Maverick stares back at the boy before him. Bradley’s always had a temper, that’s nothing new. The sincerity in his tone is. He’s serious about you, it seems.

“Bradley?”

Both of them turn their heads to look at you at the same time. You swallow. His mouth sets into a hard line and it almost makes you wince. You’ve seen this before; it almost always winds up with you getting hurt.

It’s growing colder now that the sun has set. After the day you’ve had, you miss the days when you could take a hot bath. Going home and crawling under your covers would be enough at this point.

“I’m serious,” Bradley says slowly, giving his uncle a quick once over, and then taking a step back with a shake of his head. “You will never be family to me. Leave me alone.”

Without giving the man who had raised him time to argue, Bradley turns and walks back to the car, grinding his jaw.

“Who was that?” You frown.

“Come on,” Bradley sighs, shaking his head as he tugs open the passenger side door and motions for you to get in. “I’ll tell you later. I just want to go.”

You’ve seen Bradley angry — you’ve seen him being an asshole just for the sake of it. This isn’t that. You’ve never seen him rattled like this. So, you get in the car and you let him take you home, pretending not to see the way that the dark haired man watches you car pull out of the lot.

You let him cook for you and tell you about his week. You eat everything he makes you and he grins, proud of himself. After that, he insists that you spend the rest of the evening in bed. So, you do.

You spend it laying sideways with your head resting on his stomach and your legs dangling over the edge, his fingers toying with stands of your hair.

“So, who was that guy?” You ask finally.

And so, he tells you about Pete Mitchell for the first time. The man who raised him. Uncle Pete who let him stay up late and eat pizza, who came over on the days that Bradley’s mom just couldn’t stop crying. Uncle Pete who sometimes forgot that he promised to come to baseball games or pissed off an admiral and wound up in the middle of the ocean for a couple of months, so couldn’t come to that birthday party anymore.

The let downs and the wonderful memories weigh each other out. For every upside, there’s a downside with Maverick. And then it gets to Bradley’s senior year of high school, when Mav betrayed him. They hadn’t spoken since, other than at Carole’s funeral, briefly. That had gone worse than today had.

You squeeze his hand softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Bradley says quietly. He smooths his hand down across my stomach. “I’m sorry that I did that in front of you. I’ve been trying to—“

You turn your head, pressing your lips gently to his knuckles. “I know.”

He exhales slowly. You know exactly how hard he had been trying for you.

“I love you.” You decide finally, leaning your head back so that you can look at him. Bradley raises his eyebrows. He’s had a couple of girls say it to him before, he’s never felt inclined to say it back. He would’ve never told them about Maverick, about his mother. He wouldn’t have ever been lying here with them, like this.

“I love you too.” He takes his hand away from your hair and strokes it along your jaw instead. You push yourself up, turning slowly towards him, kissing his lips chastely.

“We’re going to be alright. Right?” You ask quietly, resting your hand against his bare chest. His eyes soften just slightly as he gives you a calm nod.

…

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#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw au #my future in you #MFIY

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jessicaloons · 3 months ago

Text

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince:

Chapter 1

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Miss Americana

May 2019:

"And you’re sure you can handle it? I mean working here and college?" Peter Hastings was a nice, middle aged man, looking for a new nanny for his 6 year old son, Gabriel.

"I’ll wake him up at 7:15. Make breakfast and get him ready for school, drop him off at 8:30 and go to my classes. At 3 I’ll pick him up. Help him with his homework. Soccer on Monday and Wednesday. Piano lesson on Tuesday. Prepare dinner. Make him bed ready and then you’ll take over. Monday till Thursday. Fridays I’ll pick him up at 12. We’re going to the park, museum, zoo whatever. Have lunch and I’ll bring him home by 4, where you take over. And if you need a babysitter on the weekends, you’ll call me." Rachel repeated the schedule Mr. Hastings had presented her with, hoping he would hire her.

"Impressive. Well your report looks great, I understand why you’ve got a scholarship for the MCPHS. I’d say you’ve got the job." Mr. Hastings smiled at the girl.

"Thank you, Sir! Really!"

"Gabriel liked you, you have strong ambitions. I think you’re perfect. Now let’s talk money, shall we?" he clapped his hands and Rachel nodded.

With a full scholarship and a well paid job that still gave her enough time for her studies, she could start saving up money to get the hell out of Woburn, after graduating from college with her nursing degree hopefully.

"I know this was not what you applied for, but I’ll ask anyways, if you say no, you’ll still keep your job starting in fall!" her new boss said and she looked up "My current nanny, well she left, family emergency, so I would need someone from now on, during the summer until you’ll take over at the end of August. I know, you just graduated and probably already planned your summer, but I thought I ask anyways. Again, feel free to say no, the job is yours regardless. It’s only one more month of school and then it’s… well a full day job, I’m off for the entire August, but before that I’m loaded with events here and there…"

"I’ll do it." Rachel said immediately, every reason to leave Woburn earlier was a good reason.

"Yeah? You sure? I mean like I said, you don’t have to!" Mr. Hastings said but the girl shook her head.

"No it’s fine. Really. I have nothing planned. And like this I can get used to Boston."

"You can stay here. Our old nanny has her own studio in the backyard. That way you don’t have to drive every morning from Woburn to here."

"Are you sure? It’s no problem for me to drive!"

"With traffic in the morning you’ll be in the car for an hour or longer. That’s ridiculous. Come on I’ll show you the studio. You could even stay there when you start college. Thinking back to my college times? The dorms weren’t the nicest place to stay." he laughed and got up, leading the young girl outside through the kitchen.

"I mean. I haven’t seen my dorm yet… but from what I’ve heard, yeah, not the nicest place to stay indeed."

The studio was clean and modern. A kitchenette, a table with two chairs. Sofa, TV and a bed. A little bathroom. It was definitely more quiet and private than any dorm at her college.

"Are you sure it’s okay?" the girl asked.

"100%. It’s yours if you want it. Free of charge. You just have to keep it clean yourself. And if you want to bring friends over, just give me a little heads up."

Free of charge. The money she would safe. Only paying the tuition fee. The rest of her scholarship could go into her savings as well. She could leave home earlier than planned. It couldn’t get better than this.

"I guess I’m moving in then."

November 2021:

Rachel always dreaded driving home. The rare occasions over the past 2 years where she had driven home were all proof why it was better to stay away. But something in her father’s voice when he asked her if she would come home for his birthday gave her the chills. When she parked her car in the driveway of her rundown childhood home, she felt the pit in her stomach grow. Calming down her nerves she opened up the door, walking inside. The house smelt rancid. A mix of liquor, smoke and bleach.

"Dad?" the girl walked inside the dark living room when suddenly the light got switched on. She flinched looking at the man sitting in the armchair facing her.

"If it’s not Miss Americana fresh off of college." Tony.

"Where’s my dad?" her voice not as strong as she hoped.

"Come." he got up and dragged her outside with him.

"Stop. Tony! Let go of me!" Rachel tried to get away from him.

"Get in the car. You can do it on your own or I’ll make you." his jaw clenched.

The girl got inside. Shaking.

"Where’s my dad?" she repeated.

"Your dad… he pissed off a lot of people… he was a capo once… but his drinking? Mamma Mia… he became useless the day your mother died… fallen from capo to soldato… and now? A shame really…" he sneered.

"What did he do?" Rachel asked with a shaking voice.

"Oh bella, you know I can’t tell you. Otherwise I’d have to kill you. And I really don’t want to kill such a pretty girl." he laughed and the girl swallowed hard "Just know that he owes a lot of people a lot of money…"

They drove to Winchester and the girl knew immediately where they were going.

"When was the last time you were here? When your mother died?" he asked, although he didn’t sound one bit empathetic "A long time ago… then again, it’s never a good sign if you have to go to Winchester… our family parties are usually held somewhere else…"

The driveway up the hill to the dark manor made Rachel’s insides churn.

"Get out." Tony parked the car and she did as told, following him inside.

"Oh Rachel! Mia bellissima ragazza! Look at you! What a beautiful, beautiful young lady! You should look for a girl like her, Anthony, not the skanks you’re going for." Rosaria Romano pulled Rachel in her arms, before kissing her cheeks "The last time I saw you was before you left for college and now look at you! You’re skinny! Don’t they feed you well at college? All the money they take and then not feeding their students? Che cavolo! You’re staying for dinner! Anthony, tell your father I’m feeding this sweet girl first, before he can talk to her!"

"Mamma! She’s not here to eat!" Tony grabbed the girls arm, but he shrugged away under the cold, hard gaze of his mother. He rolled his eyes, walking away, cursing in Italian.

"Now come, mia ragazza, you can help me with dinner." Rosaria lead her into the kitchen where already a handful of women were cooking away "Here, put that on. We don’t want your beautiful outfit to get stained with pomodori!"

The next hour Rachel cooked together with the ladies, told them about college and how her life was going. She knew all too well that she couldn’t tell them everything. Giving away too much was dangerous, so she lied mostly.

"And what about the boys at college? Someone special there for you?" nonna Viola asked right as Tony came back.

"She’s coming with me now." he grabbed Rachel’s arm, pulling her with him. A muscle ticked at his jaw. His hold on her arm made her whimper in pain.

"Anthony! You hurt her! Stop! Don’t make me swing my mattarello at you!" nonna Viola raised her rolling pin and Anthony let go of the girls arm "There you go, stupido!"

"Come." he glared at the girl who took off the apron, handing it Rosaria.

"When the men have finished whatever their having to talk about now, we’re finishing our conversation, Rachel." she smiled and Rachel nodded.

As she followed Tony down a long, dark hallway the bad feeling she had, since hearing her father’s voice on the phone earlier that day, only intensified.

When they stopped in front of a big oak door Tony pushed Rachel hard against it, caving her in. His nose rubbing down her cheek. His breath reeked of smoke and liquor.

"You won’t like what’s happening next and let me tell you, I understand you. But then again… mhhh look at you." he whispered in her ear, making the girl shudder "My mother wasn’t that wrong, I should go for a girl like you…"

"Anthony?" Don Vito’s cold voice rang out through the door.

"We’re here, papa!" Tony said with a sadistic grin.

"Bring her in then. We have a lot to do."

January 2022:

"Miss Lombardi? Miss Lombardi!" the screeching voice of Professor Cullers made Rachel flinch "Ah great. You are with us again… well, do you know the answer, to Miss Edwards question?"

"I- umm… I don’t. No." the girl looked at her professor "Sorry."

"Maybe stop daydreaming then and start listening to what I’m teaching you."

"Yes, ma’am." she nodded.

The rest of the class Rachel kept writing down everything Professor Cullers said, listening carefully and when the bell rang she was one of the last to leave.

"What’s going on with you?" Stuart asked, waiting at the door for her.

"What do you mean?" they walked side by side to their next course.

"You’re absent. Pretty often. For weeks now…"

"It’s nothing. I’m fine. I promise." Rachel faked a smile and Stuart sighed.

"Ok, cut the crap. What’s going on? Since you left for your father’s birthday a couple of weeks ago, you’re acting strange… what happened at home Rachel?" he looked at her and she took a deep breath, shaking her head.

Stuart was the only friend she made in college, he didn’t talk much, but there was a sense of understanding between the two after she accidentally overheard a conversation between him and a stranger behind the cafeteria one day. Rachel since knew that their backstory was similar and that he broke off all ties to his old life. He would understand her, if she told him what happened. But then again, she knew that she might endanger him if she told him too much.

"How hard was it? Leaving everything behind? Cutting off all ties to your family?" she asked instead and Stuart contemplated his answer for a moment.

"It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. But I had to do it, so I powered through…"

"But I mean… how did you do it? Where did you get your new identity from? What happened to your old one?" the blonde girl pressed.

"I know a guy who knows a guy… but it costs a lot… also, starting a new life somewhere new isn’t for free either."

Rachel thought for a second, all the money she saved from her scholarship so far, because she only had to pay for the tuition fee and work materials. All the money she saved from working for Peter, which she barely had touched. It was a nice little sum and should keep her afloat for a while.

"Why are you asking me all this? What happened?" Stuart asked again and Rachel sighed "You can tell me, Rach. Nothing you can say will scare me away… I know how you grew up… I know how it is… so come on, tell me."

"I need to leave. Like for real… I always planned on moving to Boston after college, but they won’t let me… I only have time after graduation and then my old life will catch up with me again… I will be pulled into this mess that my life is if I don’t run away." Rachel almost whispered and her friend looked at her wide eyed "They wanted me to leave college immediately but I managed to convince them that a nurse with a degree and all qualifications is more helpful, more useful for them, so they agreed, but as soon as I graduate they will take me back to Woburn or rather Winchester… I can’t go back, Stuart…"

"And you shouldn’t have to go back, but Rach this is a dangerous thing to do? Killing off your old self, start a new life… it’s going to cost you more than just money…" Stuart said and Rachel nodded.

"I’m willing to do whatever it takes…" the young girl said determined.

"Then I’ll help you. But it won’t be easy…"

"Everything is better than staying here…"

"I need to make a few calls, then we’ll see." Stuart smiled at her.

"Thanks Stu. You’re a good friend." Rachel squeezed his hand.

"I’m currently your only friend… so that’s that."

"True…"

April 2022:

"Rachel? There’s a letter for you!"

"Thanks, Peter!" the girl took the letter from the counter, while stirring the pasta sauce "Waterman and Krieger? What is that?" she asked when she saw the sender of the letter.

"They’re a law firm. Inheritance law if I’m not mistaken." Peter looked up from his newspaper.

"Inheritance law?" Rachel ripped the envelope open, unfolding the letter. She went silent, staring at the letter, the pasta sauce bubbling.

"Rach? Hey? Rach?" Peter grabbed the sauce pan and shoved it off the stove top "What happened?" he looked at the girl worriedly.

"My- umm… my mom… she left me some money…" Rachel said slowly, looking at Peter "They write that mom set up a trust fund for me before her death. I have access to the money when I turn 21. Which is in three months."

"Oh wow…" Peter squeezed her shoulder "Do you need a moment? I can finish up dinner and I’ll send Gabe to get you when it’s ready?"

"Is that okay?" the brunette asked and he nodded "Thank you."

Back in her studio she looked at the letter and saw that there was also another smaller envelope inside. She knew the handwriting immediately.

My sweet Rachel,

when you read this letter it means I am no longer around to gift you with my last treasure.

Every money I earned from winning beauty pageants and later from working and that wasn’t needed, I put aside for you.

I know you’re a smart girl and every college would offer you a full scholarship, but just to make sure that if not, we have the money.

I never told your dad about this money, I was too afraid that he would use it. Your father is a great man and I love him dearly. But he’s surrounded himself with the wrong people, they poisoned his mind. And over time he had to drink more and more to forget what he had to do daily for Don Vito.

Please don’t tell him about the money. Keep it to yourself. It’s enough for a fresh start, if you know what I mean.

I’m sorry, that I couldn’t be by your side for longer. That I couldn’t give you the home that you deserved.

Promise me to live a good life. Go live your dreams. But please never forget that I love you, my little Miss Americana.

Love always,

Mom

Rachel leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes. When her mother died, she felt lost, didn’t know how to move forward, didn’t know how to continue with her life. Her father lost himself in alcohol, maybe even drugs. He disappeared for days, just to be laid down on the front porch by some of the men he worked with and for Rachel to get him inside, making sure he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit. She knew what he was doing. She knew who he worked for. From the day she was born she was part of a world she never wanted to be in, as she later realised. Movies and pop culture didn’t do this life justice. It wasn’t glorious or mysterious. It was scary and dark. Where other kids her age went to school and made new friends Rachel always had to stick to the kids from the family. To make sure she wouldn’t spill anything about her father’s work. Her mother had to fight hard with her husband to allow her to take Rachel to beauty pageants, after the little girl watched her mother getting dolled up for numerous pageants herself and wanting to be just like her when she was older. Rachel was talented, just like her mother. Her beauty apparent from a young age and it didn’t take long for her to win her first pageant. She loved competing in pageants. But what she loved even more was the time she spent with her mother. She was always so carefree and happy at the contests, a stark contrast to her usually quiet and almost depressed personality at home. She was always trying to not show Rachel how sad and worried she really was, but unfortunately it didn’t work out and Rachel had asked her more than once what was going on and why she was so sad.

"It’s nothing, my little Miss Americana, grown up stuff, nothing to worry about for you, my pretty girl." she had always said, followed by a kiss on Rachel’s forehead and a "I love you, my Rachel."

But with every year she got older she figured out more and more why her mother was so sad. And why the only times she was happy, careless and free, was when they went to pageants together. Because for a short while she could forget in what danger she was living with her daughter. What her husband did for a living. And the fear of the day where she, or worse Rachel, would have to pay the price of her husband’s job.

Ultimately she paid the price. After Rachel won the Miss Teen USA pageant in September 2016, and she had floated on cloud 9, her mother decided she deserved a treat and on the way home from Boston, where the pageant was held, she stopped at a little diner.

Rachel remembered how her mother ordered a strawberry milkshake and fries, she herself got a chocolate milkshake and fries and as soon as their food had arrived her mother looked around, a big grin on her lips before she nodded.

"No one’s watching… go!" she chimed and began dipping her fries into her milkshake.

Rachel laughed but did the same. Her father was always grossed out when his wife and daughter did that, laughing at them for their craziness, saying they better watch out or the food police would arrest them.

They were so happy that evening, her mother saying a million times how proud she was of her and what amazing and exciting times were ahead now for Rachel. But that happiness was gone in an instant when 2 men entered the dinner and her mother’s face turned to stone. She stopped laughing and looked at her daughter, shaking her head. To not draw any attention to them she silently held up her hand when the waitress looked over to them, signalling for her to come over. Paying in silence Rachel’s mother took her by the hand, guiding her outside, back into the car where she locked to doors immediately, starting the engine. She remembered how her mother called her father, telling him that two of Volkov’s men were at the diner. But before she could say anything she looked into the rear view mirror, her face turning pale when she told her husband that they were being followed. It didn’t take long for her mother to speed down the main road leading into Woburn, faster than ever before in her entire life. On speaker Rachel’s father telling her that their men were already on the way. But it was too late. She felt her mother grab onto her hand, clutching it tightly in her own, when the car was hit with something and soared through the air. She closed her eyes, holding onto the grab handle, listening to the sounds around her, when a searing pain shot through her left thigh. The pain was mind numbing and she tried her best to not focus on it. She tried to listen to the sounds around her but after a short while she only heard her own blood rushing into her ears. Then she felt her mother squeezing her hand and she opened her eyes, her first look was on the bright digital watch in the dashboard, then her mother squeezed her hand again and Rachel turned her head a little, looking at her.

"I’m so sorry, my beautiful Rachel. I love you so much." her final words as Rachel later had to find out.

After that night her father was never the same again. After that night Rachel was never the same again. She had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days, the doctors all confident that with the right care the wound on her right thigh, caused by an open break of her femur, would heal without leaving a big scar, so she could still compete in beauty pageants. But to her it didn’t matter. Without her mother she didn’t plan on continuing. And because of her not responding to any of the calls, mails or letters from the Miss Teen USA committee, regarding her upcoming tour through the United States, they stripped her off her title 6 weeks later, appointing her runner up, Caitlyn Summers, as new Miss Teen USA 2016.

Rachel absentmindedly rubbed her thigh, feeling the scarred skin through the thin fabric of her leggings. A reminder of the night that changed her life forever. That destroyed her life forever. She had to blink away tears, wiping her cheeks when Gabe knocked on the door, making her flinch.

"Rach! Dinner is ready!" his happy voice sounded through the door and the young girl cleared her throat.

"I’m coming in a minute Gabe!" she replied and listened to the sound of his steps on the gravel.

Rachel got up and looked into the mirror, wiping away the last remaining tears. It had been a while since she thought back to that night. The memories still too hurtful and real. After a minute of composure she followed Gabe back into the main house trying her best to not show the emotional turmoil she was feeling.

When Rachel went to bed that night she felt exhausted, drained, but also determined. Determined to escape her life in Woburn. Or Winchester. Escape her family. Live a happy life, just like her mother wanted her to. She would honour her mother’s last wish, give her all to do so. No matter what.

Chapter 1 - and that’s it. First chapter done. I tried something new this time, writing this story from a third-person perspective and also switching between Miss Americana/The Heartbreak Prince centred chapters. I hope you like it! Let me know what you think! 🩷💜

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment!

Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

@glitterquadricorn @lottalove4evelyn @janeh22 @itsjustkhaos

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pepsiconcoction · 8 months ago

Note

hi hi, i enjoy reading your content so much that I wanted to make a request! A Lee Know Fluff inspired by this song “Take A Chance With Me” by NIKI. It can literally be a drabble, one shot, series or whatever pleases you! thanks again <3

hi i'm so sorry i disappeared for like, so long? idk honestly, so i have no idea when you posted this, or if you even still want it lol. i finally have some free time AND i'm feeling creative again so that's fun! anyways hope you like this, i did it in like an hour and a half and its barely proofread, i hope u love it tho <3

Take A Chance With Me - Lee Know x Reader

pairing: Lee Know x gn!Reader

tags: non-idol AU, fluff, tiny amount of angst if you squint?, lee know is a goofy guy i guess

wc: 891

Being in love with Minho was hard. Unfortunately, it was a hardship you had been dealing with for a while now. He was everything to you, your best friend, your soulmate even, although he would always say that soulmates don’t actually call each other that.

The moment you finally realised you were in love with Lee Minho, the two of you were nursing hangovers, a bowl of sundaeguk steaming your face. You had both finally graduated from University, the same place you had met almost 4 years ago. He had finally introduced himself to you after sitting next to you every Tuesday at 9am, after the professor had introduced the fact that group work was required for a project. You hadn’t even heard him speak up until that point, you were kinda beginning to think that was a figment of your imagination until he spoke.

A year later he told you that he decided to sit next to you because you were the first person who seemed ‘normal’ when he first entered and looked around the room. This confession, of course, had the two of you in fits of giggles at how neither of you turned out to be normal. You had realised you both shared a passion for dance despite your degree studying computer science and had even attended each other's dance showcases and competitions, watching him dance was like nothing else. The way he moved with such practiced precision was so captivating, that it was almost impossible to ever look away.

Beyond that, he was the kindest person you knew. He cared in ways that you had never expected of him. When your boyfriend cheated on you in the summer between years 2 and 3, he showed up to your apartment with kind words and snacks, and he did your dishes for you and even ironed your shirt for work the next day so that you could cry.

Back to the sundaeguk. It was still steaming.

The glint in his eye as he threw his head back giggling at some stupid joke you made you realise. It made you realise a lot of things actually.

“What happens now?” you ask.

“I don’t know about you but I’m gonna eat this,” he says pointing at his bowl with the chopsticks in his hand.

“No, I mean, now that we’ve graduated.”

He stops mid sausage-to-mouth and blinks at you.

“We get… jobs, I guess.” The sausage reaches his mouth. You laugh. You let the moment pass.

A month later you’re at a party, he asked you to be his plus one to the after-party of one of his dance shows and you’re talking to one of the other members of the choreography team. She tells you how Minho talks about you and has such admiration for you. When Minho waves at you from across the room, she asks you how you’re not dating. You manage to ramble off something about just being close friends but even you don’t fully believe it. You don’t want this night to end the way it always did. He walks you home, you hold his arm, you let go, and you both say good night.

You watch him from across the room, the room blaring with music, the sound of voices almost competing. He’s beautiful, you know that, everyone who has ever met him knows that. He’s talking to a friend, one you vaguely recognise, and you feel a pang in your chest, a feeling of impending doom. There’s a fear in your heart that something will take him from you, a job, a person, you don’t know, but you need him to stay with you. You need him.

You finish the drink in your hand and put the empty glass back on the table. You excuse yourself from the group and walk over to him. He notices you and his smile grows wide.

“Hey! I was just talking about you.” He’s grinning as he says it.

“Only good things I hope.” You raise your eyebrows.

“Of course.”

“Can I talk to you for a second?” you turn a little more serious for a moment. He excuses himself from his friend and the two of you walk outside into the quiet of the night, the cool summer air refreshing.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a hint of concern showing in his eyes.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about things.” you sigh.

“Oh, that’s never good.”

“I was thinking about you, dumbass.” You roll your eyes.

“Okay, now I’m interested,” he smirks.

You pause as you look at him. You spare a moment thinking of what to say, and how he’ll react, will he accept or reject you? You don’t know. The only thing you do know is Lee Minho, you know him as if you are him, as if you’re connected somehow. You feel like this is already written for you.

“I love you,” you say. He blinks.

“I love you too.”

“No, like, I love you Minho. More than just besties.”

“But if we date, who will be my bestie?” Of course, he jokes. Of course, you laugh.

“You’d have to find a new one.” You giggle.

“Well, looks like I’ll have to get started then.” He leans into you. “I wasn’t kidding,” he says in a softer, quieter voice. “I do love you.”

Being in love with Minho was suddenly so easy, but it always was.

taglist: @lethallyprotected @lieslab @jeyelleohe @lilykatelyn-blog @mimiibear @jisungfanpage47 send me an ask if you want to be added!!

#computer science lee know is back #stray kids #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz #stray kids fluff #lee minho #lee know #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #skz minho #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios

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thatlongspringnight · 1 year ago

Text

Seven Days a Week

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook/female reader

Rating: M for mature

Genre: slice of life? Non!idol au

Warnings: Smut, being followed around by Jungkook, mentions of scrapes and bruises, arguing

Summary: Every hour, every minute, every second - Jungkook wants to be with you. This is based loosely off the MV.

Word Count: 2489

Monday

He’s late. You glance down at your phone, woefully free of any texts - any updates from your boyfriend. He’s LATE, and you’re staring down at the half-empty wine glass, the clean table. You can feel the pitying stares from the people around you,

They think you’ve been stood up.

Have you been stood up? That thought hadn’t exactly crossed your mind, at least until now. That was not…sure Jungkook had been busy lately, and he’d missed a few promised chill nights at your apartment. But to stand you up on a real date? At a - a fancy restaurant, that had been on your calendar for over a month -

“Ah, I’m so sorry.” Jungkook’s voice breaks your spiral, at least for a moment. “Gah, I just - I lost track of time.” And he’s there, alright. A suit jacket and black pants paired with….a muscle shirt. You grip the napkin in your lap tightly, trying to temper the absolute incandescent rage building in your chest at how he looks.

Hair still damp with sweat, you know exactly where he’s been.

“And where exactly did you lose track of time, Jungkook-ah.” You ask, watching the way he tenses at your tone.

“Well, I was just…I mean, I was -”

“Boxing, you were boxing, and by the looks of your outfit, you planned it.” And he runs a hand through his hair, making you internally curse at how it falls so nicely, thanks to how damp it is.

“I forgot the shirt.” Jungkook admits. “And I lost track of time. I know, i suck.” “Oh, you more than suck.” You resist the urge to toss your glass of wine onto his stupid white tee. “Jungkook, I can’t keep doing this with you.” And you can see the way it sinks in, the frown on his pretty face.

“What do you mean? I was just a little late -”

“No.” and you hold your phone up, the time flashing. “You were 32 minutes late, Jungkook, and not even dressed for the occasion. You knew this was important to me, but apparently I wasn’t important enough for you to even send me a text saying you’d be running late.” And once you’ve gotten started it's hard to stop. “I am worth more than this, Jungkook. I know it, and so should you.”

“I - I know it.” Jungkook repeats you, sort of. “I know you’re worth more than how today has gone.” “Not just today, I shouldn’t…it shouldn’t cross my mind that you would stand me up, Jungkook! I shouldn’t be having to worry about it, or spend a whole day that was supposed to end in a beautiful, fancy, well-planned date, completely ignored by you. Not a single text!” And you’re on your feet. “So - so you can sit here, by yourself. We’re done. Done done. We are over.”

“Wait -” and he’s grabbing your wrist, on his feet, as you two are now fully making a scene in this restaurant. “Wait, I’m sorry, you can’t - this can’t be the end of us. I can fix this, we can go back to your place and - “ but you’re shaking him off.

“No, no more, I don’t want to see you again.”

Tuesday

“No, no more, I don’t want to see you again.” Prove to be famous last words on your way home from work, the train ride, normally peaceful, disturbed by a familiar warmth sliding into the seat next to you as you try to focus on the book in your hand, the headphones in your ear.

He’s warm, and he’s serious, not saying anything, at least until you huff, closing your book. Then his mouth opens, but before he can say anything, you’re on your feet, flat out ignoring him as you walk to the front of the train car, wondering if he will simply get the hint, but…

But you know him better than that.

“Please.” He asks, so sweetly, his hand reaching for yours, in the divider space between the train cars, rocking gently. “Hear me out, I’m sorry. It's not an excuse but…talk to me.” He sounds so earnest as you glare at him, a look that only makes him smile, like he’s being scolded gently, and not like you broke up with him yesterday.

“No.” You shake his grip off. “No Jungkook, you don’t get to just weasel your way back in after yesterday. I don’t care that you have those sparkly baby doe eyes, it's not going to work. So just - “

The train grinds to a halt as you slide into the next car, it's close enough to your stop that you’re just shrugging it off, walking out with the crowd of people exiting.

He doesn’t follow you, and you don't hear him softly mumble something about how you still think his eyes sparkle, even when you’re mad.

Wednesday

Is nothing sacred? You are watching the torrential downpour outside as the hum of the laundromat helps the thrumming beginnings of a headache. This is YOUR time, your time, as the person who has been nothing but a thorn in your side since Monday evening sits behind you on the counter.

And he’s such a fucking - You groan aloud in frustration, he looks so fucking good you almost want to forgive him on that basis alone, this little dance you two are playing getting old quickly. He’s in those stupid too-ripped jeans and a fucking tank top, with a fucking comfy jacket and its SICK.

It’s sick how much you want to FUCK him, to grab him by his chiseled jaw and kiss him till you’re breathless. To - to ride him on top of the fucking laundry counter till he’s crying. But right now, you’re ignoring him instead, focused on folding your half-dry clothes so you can set them into the hamper you brought them in with.

Broken - the laundromat has sprung a leak, water pouring into the building as you focus on anything but that, but him.

“I can help.” He speaks up, kicking his feet like a little kid, before hopping off the counter. No one is even bothering to glance at the two of you, too busy trying to gather their things. Too busy deciding if the rain outside is worse than the water flowing on the floor.

“I don’t need your help.” you answer, just for him to pull out one of your shirts and start folding. “I said no Jungkook - “ “Let me show you.” His voice is firm, way more than yours. “Let me show you. If you don’t want me to talk, let me show you that I’m sorry.” “Fuck you.” You answer him, snatching the shirt from his hand. “Big talk - “ “It's not talk.” he keeps his cool- sort of. No doubt fueled by your own obvious weakness, the way you can’t stop yourself from brushing your hand against his when you take your shirt back. Of course, this only pisses you off more. “You’re it for me, and I’ll do whatever I have to do - “ He is following you as you hastily shove your clothes into the hamper.

“Really, Jungkook?” And finally, you slam the hamper down onto the counter, turning to face him so you can jab a finger against his chest, so you can shove him back lightly. “Really? Now you’re everywhere I am? Now you’re on time? You’re early? You want to be around me? Where was that energy Monday night?”

“I made a mistake.” He throws his hands up, and it knocks his jacket off his shoulder, exposing a sliver of skin you know would look better if your mouth was against it, leaving darling red marks - the thought sets you on edge. “I made a mistake but it doesn’t mean I didn’t want to be there.” and he’s reaching for you again, just for you to slap his hand away.

“Doesn’t seem like it was a mistake. Doesn’t seem like you wanted to see me at all.” And you make a choice, grabbing your hamper.

“I always want to see you - every hour, every minute, every s-“

Fuck it, you’ll risk the weather. You’d rather get sucked into a tornado than spend another moment with him…because you know you’ll forgive him if you do.

Thursday

“Jungkook.” You’re staring at the yellow sunflowers, looking at the man in front of you with something like frustration - but not quite, especially when he thrusts them into your arms, the sunshine-colored petals almost blinding in their brightness. “Flowers, really?”

“Your favorite.” He clarifies, voice steady like you hadn’t just watched him sprint a block to catch up to you. “I was going to knock on your door but - I mean, I’m lucky I saw you.”

“Lucky?” Your voice is dry. “What does that make me?” But even as you’re talking, you’re clutching the flowers to your chest, idly brushing at the silken spring petals.

“It - it shows you that it’s fate.” Jungkook answers, so damn earnest your heart thumps out of rhythm at his words. “Fate that I was able to see you, and give these to you and say I’m sorry again.” And his eyes…

It’s really unfair how they are so big, so beautiful and soft, and how pretty they look with the sunflowers reflected in them.

Or how he’s smiling at you, like you hold his whole heart in your hands. Which is why you don’t toss the flowers into the street, or make a scene of throwing them to the ground…you just…

“Yaaah, can’t you give it a rest?” Which gets nothing but an adamant refusal from him, a shake of his head that would normally make you laugh.

That you manage to resist laughing at, thank fuck.

“Never.” And you know he means it, even as you roll your eyes, letting your footsteps take you away from him. “Hey! W-wait - you aren’t getting rid of the flowers?” It’s confusion and elation all at once.

And you don’t, in fact. When you finally make it home later you set them up in a pretty vase, letting your gaze drift to them as you think about him.

Fate, huh?

Friday

It’s been raining all day, and instead of soothing you, you feel…antsy, staring at your phone, listening for a knock at the door, pausing to look back at the sunflowers on your table.

Jungkook, you bite your lip, huffing as you look down at your phone again. Even if you don’t have any plans today for him to barge in on….he could certainly send you a text.

As the hours tick by and the storm gets worse, your thoughts shift to worrying that he will come over, that he’ll brave the weather like an idiot just to tell you that he’s sorry, when you already have forgiven him.

Then your phone lights up, a text, and you almost drop it from how quickly you go to look.

“There’s been an accident.” From Seokjin.

Your breath leaves your lungs.

Saturday

“I literally can’t believe you.” You are staring at Jungkook, who looks pitiful. “I thought something had happened! I thought you were hurt!” And sure - maybe there is a scratch on his cheek, a skint knee, but he’s fine.

Thank God he’s fine. You could kiss him on the mouth, just to make sure.

“That’s not my fault!” Jungkook whines “Hyung sent that. I didn’t know - I mean, there was an accident, but I’m fine.”

“You’re fine.” And you find yourself kneeling on the floor by his couch. Pressing a hand gently against his cheek. “You’re fine, but you could have been hurt - I mean you wrecked your bike -“

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Not my bike, I mean, I - I want you to keep worrying about me, but it wasn’t my motorcycle.” And his cheeks are flushed. “Namjoon-Hyung left his bike at my house, his bicycle. So…so I decided to take it back to him, then Jin-Hyung and I were going to uhm…” and the redness has reached his ears. “Okay we were going to think of new ways for me to - to get your attention.”

“I’m going to kill Kim Seokjin.” You mumble and it makes him laugh, his hands coming up to hide his face.

“Yeah be mad at Jin Hyung and not me.” Jungkook answers, a little giggle on his lips. “I - I like that better.”

“Jungkook.” you grab his hand, twining his fingers with yours. “You…you have my attention. No need to get your hyung in it, no need to - to almost break a rib for it either.” “I’d do anything.” He says, squeezing your fingertips. “Anything for you.”

Sunday

“A-ah!” Jungkook’s fingertips are digging into your thighs, your own planted firmly on his shoulders as you rock your hips against his. Damn him, you think, eyes briefly trailing to the vase of sunflowers on the table, then back to him, to his toned chest and the way he is literally fucking you while you’re on top of him.

Bringing you up and down with his strong grip, somehow even making your couch squeak from the effort. “Ngh - y-you feel so good.” He breathes, a steady whimper that makes you feel weak as you find his mouth messily with your own.

“Yeah?” You answer, letting your nails leave crescent moons against his toned skin. “Y-Yeah? So good?” “F-Fuck - “ He whines outright. “Just, I love it when you ride - I love you - “

“Ha-ah ~” You appreciate the moment, also how he slows just a bit, his hand sliding into the space between the two of you to truly show you the depths of his devotion, roughened fingertips making you tense as they rub your clit. “I love you too.” You rub your nose against his cheek, tracing his jaw with your tongue, making him shiver. “Even if - if you’re insufferable. Even if you’re a mess. You’re MY mess.”

“I wanna live i-in this moment.” he groans. “I wanna be like this every day - “ “Fucking me?” You answer, before you leave a sweet little love bite against his pulse point, but his answer is lost against your lips, and long forgotten by the time he sends you over the edge, long forgotten as the condom finds its way to the trash and you find your way into his arms.

You feel satiated, relaxed, glowing even, as you curl against him, forever the big spoon as he grins sweetly at you.

“Do you forgive me?” He murmurs, chasing your lips after you plant a kiss to his forehead.

“What do you think?” You reply, and he giggles, his eyes sparkling in the light.

“I think you kept my flowers.” and now it's your face that feels warm. “I think you wanted to forgive me then.” But all you do is twine your fingers with his, shushing him with another kiss, more than willing to take him up on his offer.

Every hour, every minute, every second - just loving him.

tag list: @hesperantha

@xjoonchildx

@miscelunaaa

@vyduan

@starlostjimin

@minisugakoobies

@sahmfanficbts

@augustbutwinter

@minisugakoobies

@wwilloww

@hobi-gif

#Jungkook fic #jjk fic #bts fic #jungkook seven #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook

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byoldervine · 8 months ago

Note

What's your routine when it comes to writing?

I’m literally just writing everything I can think of because I don’t know if I have a routine exactly but hopefully something here answers your question

My writing goal is 1K words per week, and I’ve been able to keep up with this since the start of this year. It’s not much, but it gives me a minimum amount of consistent progress without burning me out, which is incredibly helpful

I work Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays, so I get most of my writing done outside of that, and then Mondays are usually busy for me so it’s up in the air how much writing I’ll get done that day. For the last few weeks I’ll write a little on Monday, then get the bulk of it done on Thursday and/or Saturday, which leaves Sunday free

I can’t have too many background distractions or I’ll zero in on that even if I’m not interested in it, but I find I work best with quiet background noise of some variety to ensure I’m not understimulated. My favourites tend to be a writing sprint video I love and custom soundpads I’ve made on TableTop Audio, which allows you to easily create soundscapes for whatever setting it is you’re writing about

I like writing on my laptop more than anything, with one tab being my writing and another being my notes. Any tabs that aren’t related to my writing need to be closed or they get too tempting. I cannot use my phone to research in this time or I will definitely get distracted

I work from two locations; in my bed or in the living room set up on the recliner. Both locations involve open curtains and blinds for natural light and a blanket over my lap while I write. I even have a dedicated writing blanket which has largely been taken over by my dogs, who will snuggle up whenever I get it out. I have to frequently stop them from laying their heads on my keyboard and creating shortcuts

If it’s a good motivation day or I’m at a point where I need to write a lot today or I won’t meet my deadlines, I’ll put on the writing sprint video and work within those parameters; 25 minutes writing, 5 minutes taking a break, repeat three more times. This is what got me through NaNoWriMo

Otherwise, I’ll turn on my soundscapes and tell myself I’ll just write for ten minutes and then I can stop if I want to. After ten minutes my brain wants to at least finish the part it’s on, and then I question if I want to keep going. Usually the answer is yes, so I’ll keep going. If I get to a point where my interest is starting to wane, I’ll tell myself to give it another ten minutes, and if I’m still disinterested I quit for the time being

After I’ve finished my weekly goal, I always try to reward myself with a snack or something fun. Lately the desired treat has been chocolate chip muffins

Once I’ve hit the goal and am no longer writing, I tend not to pick it up again until the next week because my brain thinks ‘well anything I write now won’t count to my immediate goals, so why bother?’ even though logically it’ll mean less of these sessions in the future. I do usually get at least 1100 words each week though, and I’d say my average is around 1200-1500, so I’m not too worried about that. I don’t mind so much if this all takes me a long time, it’s all for fun anyway

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serene-sun · 9 months ago

Text

𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖘

Chapter three of my new series 𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝕱𝖚𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝕺𝖋 𝕾𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘

Summary: After a multitude of wrong doings at your catholic church, you and four other nuns are sent on a mysterious transfer to a ministry nobody dares speak of. On behalf of the Count Copia, you are welcomed after a suspenseful journey.

Chapter summary: when you’re assigned to work in the green house, you decide to meet some new ghouls while delivering items with ivy. You learn of how you take vows….and a suggestion is made

warnings: sex talk at the end

a/n: shorter chapter, next chapter will be smut, chapter after that will circle back to chapter two.

It had been five weeks since the arrival of the new sisters of sin. They all had been used to the new life style and the new sceduale.

They would wake up at sunrise to eat breakfast, then pick up any mail from the main office or find out what they would do that day, work or have free time until lunch and have the rest of the day to themeselves. Everything was open all day, and you were welcomed to do chores another time in the day but the morning is preferred. Rituals would be held at sundown, mass was at noon and midnight. On Monday and Fridays they would have mass in the morning too. Midnight mass is required every night for every sibling, ghoul, father and such. Chores would only be on Tuesdays and Thursdays since they have shift changes unless you chose to clock in. The papal offices were always open to everyone, and confessions were from 6am to 7am, 9pm to 10pm.

Newer siblings of sins were started on easier chores until they would be “promoted” to a higher level.

You had been tasked with helping in the greenhouse, the count had suggested it after the report of your…spook…in the hallway. He figured a change of scenery would be best.

All of the ghouls had jobs too, and you found the earth ghouls to simply be more approachable.

It was still very difficult to tell them apart, but their different uniforms helped. Some had full black cloaks, some gargoyle masks, and the recent generation Devil masks with black suits.

The gardens and greenhouses of the ministry were lushly green and most definitely swept away the accusations of the ministry being dark and scary. It still was at times but during the sunny day where the trees created chilled shadows across the tall bushes and floral plants was serene.

This was your second week working in the greenhouse, the head of the gardens being papa emeritus the first. All of the earth ghouls were stationed there too, they were all calm and not bouncing around like some of the other elements.

You hadn’t talked to anyone yet, too scared to say anything. You feared you would mess up and be seen as rude to the papa. Even tho his kindness shined to the other siblings working.

You desperately wanted to be excepted, so you worked on your off days.

“Sorella…can you please harvest some of the Queen Ann?” The first born papa had asked, taking his cane and pushing a little sprouted weed out of the crevice of the humid room.

“Yes, of course your eminence.” You say, bowing in respect despite him telling you there was no need.

You quickly found the plant and noticed it was one of the poisonous ones. You weren’t sure what they needed poison for, but it was none of your business.

You took hold of the stem, grabbing the garden scissors and snipping the plant midway up the stem.

A hand tapped your shoulder and you looked behind, greeted by one of the newer earth ghouls.

“Pardon, I don’t mean to interrupt but I think you need help picking that.” He says, motioning to put the scissors down.

This was one of the very quiet earth ghouls, and his voice was deep and lush just like the grass on a hill. He smelled like lavender and chamomile, you found it relaxing to work beside him.

You nod, “oh…uh…yes…I’ve never harvested this one before.”

“That’s alright, first time for everything right?” He chuckled softly as he steps beside you. “Firstly I don’t think he meant to assign you here, you’ll have to excuse primo, he is elderly and forgets sometimes.” He says as the very tall ghoul grabs the part of the stem that meets with the flowers, he twists it off and placed it into a bowl, “only ghouls work with poisons plants, they can’t make us sick.” He speaks softly

You make a little “oh” sound as you watch, mesmerized by the way he gently does it to each budding. You forget that the ghouls are big bad and scary from this one’s softness.

“Would you like me to clean your shoes.” You panic as memories from that hallway moment flood your mind as you study his horns and nails. You speak wobbly, maybe a fear of ghouls was growing inside.

“Hm? My shoes? They are a bit muddy…but you don’t have to-“ he says before looking at you, he senses the fear, “what’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

“Uh…yes I just…uhm…I’m ok..” you say nervously as you continue looking at his muddy shoes.

The earth ghoul looks at you confused, but the door is swiftly opened up by a water ghoul, “mountain! I need your help, there’s a bird stuck in the bird bath.” They say urgently and out of breath.

The ghouls demeanor is quickly changed to panic as he runs out the doors like someone had died.

You stand there a little frozen as you take a deep breath, it was honestly silly to be scared of such a gentle giant. Perhaps you could tell yourself it’s the height difference.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to ghouls being everywhere.” Another voice says from across the room. You never even noticed them as they stood still, wrapping a chicken wire around a tomato plant that had to drum sticks stuck in the pot keeping it up and sturdy.

“Oh…uhm…I’m sorry..” you say guilt filled as you play with your hands.

This new earth ghoul had black hair and a black tail. “You’re completely ok! I totally get it….when I was first summoned I think I peed myself when I saw the first fire ghoul.” He says with a bashful smile.

You feel a little better now that a joke was made, “yes I…have seen how it can be.”

“The newcomers always fear us at first, but after you get all of the gossip and rumors about us you won’t be scared.” He says as he sets down the pot to the floor.

“Well…perhaps that can be soon…” you softly smile.

“Usually after you make your vows, you can really start to know us, as you start to work closer.” They say, wiping smudged dirt off their mask.

“Yeah…I mean it’s already a little difficult because your all named the same…but it sounds like you all have little names for each other.” You say

“Oh yes! How rude, I didn’t introduce myself.” The earth ghoul said, “we all give each other names, I’m Ivy, that was mountain and that water ghoul was rain. It’s just that imperator that makes you call us nameless ghouls, if you’re out of her sight then you can call us anything.” He says, looking out the window at the water and earth ghoul helping the little bird in the water.

“That actually makes allot of sense, perhaps I’ll have to ask others their names, though I’m a bit scared to approach any other ghouls. You seem to be the calmest of the bunch.”

“I can introduce you, I need to catch up on deliveries since we’re behind. They just summoned a new multi ghoulette for the next era, so everyone’s been a little absent.” He smiles as he starts filling a rolling cart with baskets of fruits and herbs and little notes.

You smile and nod, earth ghouls were just so easy to talk too, “I’d really love that.” You say as you help pack up the large cart.

Ivy strolled along the cart out of the gardens and into the ministry, the first stop was the kitchens.

“Hey fellas! I have your delivery for this week,” he says, greeting the siblings of sin in there who immediately brightened up at his appearance. “Oh Ivy! You’re looking just too dashing today.” One says, clasping her hands as she kisses his cheek. The earth ghoul awkwardly smiles, “well uh same for you Ms.”

Next was the infirmary, a few people were in there having lunch, one or two were sitting on a bed getting a bandage changed. They gave the workers their herbs and plant medicine.

They moved on to the ghoul wing and you started getting fidgety and nervous, but the sun beaming through the big windows made it far far less terrifying than at night.

Ivy opened the door to the ghoul den,this was your first time being in here. It was a very large room with plenty of couches and seating, a dinning table and kitchen as well as a library and some other things.

Ivy started putting away some of the groceries as you stood awkwardly against a counter. There were a few ghouls in the lounge area and you were curious to look as they were maskless.

Ivy looked to you, and noted your curiosity, “that one sleeping with the black swishy hair is iffirt, goldy locks over there is sodo, and the one on the arm chair is aether.” He pointed out the ghouls quietly.

He put a hand on your back and ushered you over with him, “hey guys, this is my new friend, they’ve been working overtime since y’all are lacking.” He joked softly.

You froze, being the center of attention.

Sodo closed his book, “your friends with a virgin?” He asks genuinely as he sniffs the air, pointy ears twitching.

Sodo had long golden hair and redish grey skin. His horns were long and twisty, made of red jasper and his mustache wiggled with his lips as he spoke with an accent, “what’s your sin?”

You don’t exactly know what he means until Ivy says, “they haven’t gotten to the ceremony yet.”

“Ceremony?” You ask Ivy, “yeah….they haven’t told you? When you take your vows you choose a sin to live by. Like lust, envy or wrath.”

“Oh…” you say, “I didn’t know.”

Ifrit rubbed his eye as he woke up, “I’m surprised your still pure, your other little friends you came with lost it already.”

Aether smiled as he saw you, “don’t get cocky just because they were more sinful.” He laughed, “her time is soon either way,”

“What…does that mean??” You ask with a shy swallow.

“Hmm? Well the main part of making your vows is loosing your virginity, you can’t make them if your a virgin, did they not tell you that either?” He says surprised you hadn’t known.

“No.” You answer, “I did not…know.”

“Yeah if you don’t loose it before the vows you usually get to choose someone to take it and if you can’t than the count will take care of it himself and show you a good time back in his chambers.” Sodo said, deviously detailing it to push your buttons, “or…you can go to him and secretly do it…and nobody will ever know..” he smirks, this was a classic ghoulish trick.

It was common sense to most of everyone, except new people, that all rites and rituals are proof watched to be sure it actually happened. Even the most private of affairs of virginity loss in bedrooms must have a whole party witness…

Ifrit covered a smile with his arm, even Aether smirked a little, “yeah…if you don’t want the entire ministry knowing what your pussy tastes like then I recommend holding a private ritual with the count before vows….just to be sure your comfortable.” Ifrit says, voice muffled under his skin.

Aether sighs, “I’m going to check in on something.” He makes an excuse to leave the room.

As he walks out the door you look into the ground as you realize that I would infact be best to hold this private event away from public eyes.

They wouldn’t invite that shadow ghoul to bare witness…right?

#serene sun nocontext #the band ghost #serene sun spice time #ghost band #the band ghost x reader #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls #serene sun writes #ghost band fic #ifrit ghoul x reader #aether x reader #Ivy ghoul #mountain x reader #mountain ghoul fluff

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sugxto · 1 year ago

Text

late night talking

⋆syn: The first time was an accident, the second time a mix-up. The twelfth time was intentional. The hundred and seventh time was a fight, and the three hundred and sixty-first time was the beginning of the end. Counting all the times Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru find their vulnerability and connection together - sometimes in a bed, sometimes elsewhere - during their time at Jujutsu High.

⋆wc: 5.1k

⋆cw: vague mentions of a first time, kissing, canon compliant, mentioned character death.

The first time was an accident, fueled by six straight hours of the PS2 they kept in Geto’s room. They hadn’t even realized it was after three AM until Satoru yawned loud enough for them to check the clock - they laughed, realizing they’d broken their previous streak of four and half hours. It only took Suguru a minute or two to shut down the game and put away the controllers, but by the time he turned around, he found Satoru slumped over on one of his pillows, his dark glasses shifted up to reveal him already sound asleep. Geto sighed, but his body felt so immensely heavy, that waking his friend seemed like a task he couldn’t bring himself to take on. Instead, he grabbed a free pillow, set it on the end of the bed that Gojo hadn’t occupied, and relaxed there as best he could. When he woke the next morning, he found that his friend had slipped out at some point in the night.

The second time was a mix-up. On an overnight mission, they arrived to find their hotel room had been booked with only one bed. Suguru was the first to offer to sleep on the floor, but Satoru called him an idiot. They slept as close to the edges as they could, with pillows in between their bodies.

The third time was a bit of deja vu. After a long night of studying on Satoru’s bed, this time it was Geto whose eyes and body first became too heavy to move when the clock turned to the late hours. When he woke at four am, startled by the unfamiliar sound of someone snoring, he was relieved that the foot on his lap belonged to his best friend. He didn’t bother to move it, and settled back against the wall. He could have left, he thought to himself later that day, but didn’t, and wasn’t quite sure why.

The eighth time wasn’t a bed, but a picnic blanket, after enjoying an impromptu lunch they’d packed after deciding to cut class on a sunny Tuesday. When they woke, Gojo’s arm was around Geto’s shoulder, and Geto’s hand on the other boy’s stomach. Sorrys and ‘s okays were exchanged, before returning to campus for training.

The twelfth time was intentional. Their mission earlier in the day had been surprisingly fraught, the curses catching both of them off guard with abilities beyond which they’d been briefed on. When they had finally been exorcized, the boys were sat on the ground, catching their breath, adrenaline pumping in their veins, laughing in relief and in tandem and -

and then they were kissing. Down the line, neither of them would be able to recall who reached for who first. Suguru’s hand on the back of Satoru’s neck, and Satoru’s on the small of Suguru’s back, pulling him closer. When they finally separated, their breath ragged, Satoru found his friend’s gaze to be a bit too much to bear, and he cast his blue eyes to the ground, where his nails had dug into the dirt.

“What’s wrong?” Suguru whispered, his heart pounding so loudly he hardly heard himself ask the question.

Satoru swallowed, his pulse jumping when Suguru’s thumb moved on his neck. His cheeks felt hot “I, um… I’m sorry.” He tried to chuckle, but it sounded like a sigh. “I guess that was adrenaline.”

He didn’t mean it, not a word.

Suguru brought his other hand to the boy’s cheek, bringing his faraway gaze back to him, back to them. “Satoru…” he whispered again, a small smile on his lips. “I don’t think either of us are sorry for this.”

The journey back to Jujutsu High was quiet, night had fallen, and they already had another mission assigned for the following day. At the dorms, where they usually parted, Suguru gave a quiet, “goodnight,” but a hand on his arm stopped him as he took his next step.

Suguru thought, as he turned back to Satoru, that he’d never seen his friend with such plain vulnerability in his expression. He wondered if his own face had mirrored such a look when their lips had parted earlier.

“Stay,” Satoru said, in a tone so hushed, Suguru would have missed it if he’d not been studying his face.

The other boy’s brow arched. “Satoru-”

“Not, not like that,” he gulped. “Let’s just, stay, together. But properly, for once.” He dropped his hand down his friend's arm, letting it stop in his hand, curling his fingers around his, and both pairs of eyes looked down to where they had connected. “As cheesy as it is, I seem to sleep better when you’re around.”

Suguru let out a small laugh, one of disbelief, of wonder, at his best friend’s hand in his own. The beating of his heart, which had only just gone back to a normal rhythm, was once again hammering rapidly in his chest. He didn’t know when he’d realized it, but nights were easier when the two of them were together. “We have to be up early, Satoru.”

The blue-eyed sorcerer grinned. “I think we can manage.”

They shared the blanket that night, no pillows between them, and when Suguru woke to Gojo’s alarm clock, he hummed in contentment at finding Satoru’s head nestled against his shoulder. Thinking back on it, neither could remember a morning they felt more rested.

The twenty-third time wasn’t planned, but was filled with, “are you sure?” “is this okay?” and their names, said with bated breath.

The hundred and seventh time was emotional, filled with a fight that wasn’t about technique disadvantages or Yaga’s assignments or how a critique from Mei Mei had bruised Gojo’s ego. A fight brought about from, of all people, Shoko, and one she had no idea she had started.

Earlier, after lunch, she’d asked them while they practiced on the track, “So are you two official yet?”

The two boys had stilled, the curse manipulator losing track of the flying curse he had been wrangling, as both of them looked to Shoko, to each other, and back to Shoko.

Regaining himself, snapping the curse out of the sky, Suguru had smiled. “Official? What do you mean?”

“Officially the strongest?!” Gojo said excitedly, standing up straighter and touching his glasses. “Course we are!”

Shoko had sighed. “You know that’s not it, you idiots. The walls are thin, you know. And some of you -” she eyed Satoru, “don’t always check the hallway is clear when you leave in the mornings.”

Which led them to the fight on this night, in Satoru’s room, where the white-haired sorcerer sat at his desk, sulking with his head in his hands, while Suguru paced the small carpet.

“If she’s noticed,” Suguru was saying, his thumb pressed against his forehead, “then our senseis are bound to notice, and that’s where -”

“But there’s nothing to notice, Suguru!”

He stopped, his dark eyes immediately finding blue ones. “What does that mean?”

Satoru sighed, leaning back in the desk chair. “It means there’s nothing to notice, if we are official.”

Suguru sighed, a sigh of sadness, of frustration, of tenderness, of… and he pressed his thumb harder between his eyes, lest a migraine start to take form. “Satoru,” he said, as gently as he could muster, as he had found it took a certain cadence for the other man to receive unhappy news, “we can’t.”

“Why not?”

The sincerity of the question surprised Suguru. “Why not? Well, not everyone’s like Shoko - ambivalent, for one. We’ll have new first years soon, who knows what they’ll be like? And what about Yaga, Gakuganji?”

Satoru groaned and rolled his eyes. “Why should what a bunch of old farts think matter to me? It’s my life, my choices.”

“It could be your career, Satoru.”

He scoffed. “Well, I love you, so. I don’t care about them, or my career.”

Gojo said it so casually, so softly, it took Suguru longer than he would have liked for him to register it. He dropped his hand from his head. “What?”

Satoru felt himself blush, and he looked at the ground, just like he had when they first kissed. “It doesn’t matter to me what anyone else thinks, I guess, cuz I love you.”

“Satoru…” Geto dropped to his knees on the carpet, finding shy eyes cast downward, and brought his hands to cup Satoru’s face. His thumbs ran over his cheekbones, warm from their blush. “Satoru, do you mean it?”

Blue eyes flashed dark, a storm looming. “Huh?! Of course I mean it! And I’ll prove it, if that’s what it takes, to you, to them, I’ll kill them if they -”

“Satoru, Satoru.” He kept up the ministrations of his thumbs on Gojo’s cheeks, soothing the fear, the uncertainty that was arising, without ever raising his voice. “You foolish man. I love you, too.”

They slept with their hands intertwined, a silent promise.

The two-hundred seventy-first time, they were in Okinawa, and it was a couch, Riko and Kuroi in the adjoining suite. Suguru had asked, almost begged, Satoru to sleep just for a little bit, and he reassured the dark-haired sorcerer that he would try. Instead, he remained alert through the late hours, running his hand over Suguru’s legs draped over his lap.

The two-hundred seventy-fourth time, they were different.

Suguru stood outside his partner’s door, and knocked - he hadn’t knocked in almost a year, but they hadn’t seen each other since bringing Riko’s body to the school’s morgue, each spending most of their days giving their reports to the higher-ups, and getting more check-ups from Shoko. Knocking seemed necessary given all they had been through.

The door opened, and a wet-haired Gojo seemed surprised to see the curse manipulator. “Suguru?”

“Hi.” He swallowed, and put his hands in his pockets. “Can I come in?”

Satoru’s brow came together, confused. “Of course.” Suguru hadn’t asked that in… months.

Suguru sat at the end of Gojo’s bed, finding himself riding a line between strain and relief in the sorcerer’s presence. He’d hardly recognized the Satoru that had been carrying Riki’s body, that had asked Suguru if they should kill the Star Religious followers, that had (he’d been briefed on later that night) blown the limbs off Toji Fushiguro with a flick of his finger.

“How are you?” he asked.

Satoru shrugged and flopped his long frame onto the bed next to him. “Eh, don’t know really. The higher ups are driving me insane, yada yada this, yada yada that, wanting to know how my technique works now, and why I didn’t do certain things at the barrier, but -”

“Satoru,” Suguru stopped him, a hand on his leg. “Come on.”

The white haired man sighed, rubbing a hand over his brow. “You mean Riko.”

“I do.”

“What do you want me to say, Suguru?” He sat up, turning away from Geto, hoping any lingering shadows of shame on his face weren’t visible to the man who knew him best.

“That you’ll mourn for her, with me,” murmured Geto. He brought a hand to Satoru’s chin, gently willing him to meet his gaze. “She trusted us, until the end. Trusted you. And I don’t want us to forget her.”

Satoru tsked. “Forget her?” He sighed, a weight leaving his lungs. “I don’t see that happening, Suguru.”

He turned his body towards him, and it was then Suguru finally saw the large, nearly faded pink mark on the right side of Satoru’s neck, extending out of sight past the collar of his tshirt. Suguru gasped, his stomach knotting, only now remembering another part of what he’d been briefed on - revolving around Toji Fushiguro’s Inverted Spear of Heaven.

Without thinking, the fingers that were on Satoru’s chin moved southward to gingerly touch the marks. In the chaos of the last few days - the briefings, interrogations, check ins, disciplines - Suguru had hardly had a moment to remember those few hours where a world without Satoru had been his new reality.

Why am I here? Oh, because I killed Gojo Satoru.

It was like he heard the voice for the first time again as he touched Satoru’s skin, felt the hot anger, the hatred, the loss, all over again, somehow compounded in on itself.

“Satoru…” he managed out, and although he’d said his lover’s name thousands of times before, he wasn’t sure what this time meant.

But Satoru knew.

“Ah, yeah, Shoko says it will be gone soon, but I think it looks kinda badass.” Satoru brought his hand to Suguru’s, bringing the fingers away from the wound and up to his lips, kissing them quickly and smirking as he did so. “I think I might look cool with a scar or two.”

Suguru tried to smile and relaxed into the feel of the small kisses. “I wouldn’t object.” He swallowed a lump in his throat before whispering, “Satoru, I thought I’d lost you.”

“Lost me? Come on,” Satoru grinned. “Aren’t we the strongest?”

They slept extra close, with a window open, Suguru weary of the long, pale mark down the side of Satoru’s body.

The three hundred and sixty-first time was the beginning of the end. When Satoru had been assigned his first solo mission, ignoring Suguru’s concerns (selfish they may have been) that he wasn’t ready yet, still not yet perfected Red. They stood in Suguru’s room, Satoru calling him boring, Suguru calling cocky, until they grew tired of being annoyed with each other. They swore that Gojo would talk to Yaga, that they’d train together more, that their trust would remain.

Suguru didn’t sleep well, and was awake before the alarm.

Just before Satoru left, after they shared a kiss goodbye, he pressed his lips to the top of Geto’s dark head, and whispered, “I’ll be back, Suguru.” A spoken promise, shared for the first time, that they both held to, during the nights when the other side of the bed was empty.

The four hundred and second time was a treat, occurring four months after Satoru’s first solo mission. After that, the missions had never stopped, for either of them, and nights together had become few and far between as the two sorcerers spent more time outside of school than in it.

This mission, however, was the first in months that had requested both special grade men, on an overnight to Osaka. They exorcized the problems they came for in record time, and wasted no time returning to the hotel.

Laying together, twirling a section of Geto’s thick black hair that fell across his stomach, Satoru sighed casually. “I missed you.”

“Hm,” Suguru hummed, his eyes remaining closed, “I missed you, Satoru.” It was his turn to sigh. “I’m sorry they have you doing so much.”

“Ah, it’s not worth talking about.” He wrapped black hair around two of his fingers. “I’m figuring it out.”

Suguru reached a hand up to grab his wrist. “I know. I just, I don’t want you to just become a cog in their machine. You’re better than that.”

This turn of phrase surprised Satoru, and he chuckled. “Course I am.” He kissed the top of Suguru’s head. “Don’t worry about me, yeah?”

Suguru chuckled too, but it didn’t come quite as naturally for him. “I love you, Satoru.”

Geto heard a contented hum from Gojo’s chest before he answered, “And I love you, Suguru.”

Gojo reported to the assistant managers that they needed some more time for the curses, and stayed an additional two nights.

The four hundred and forty-ninth time was hot. Four months after Osaka, their nights were even more infrequent. Summer was here, the sound of cicadas were ever present in their ears even during classes, but they did nothing to drown out the memories of applause that plagued Suguru all hours of the day. He found it loudest in his bed, alone, but now, as Satoru had officially been declared the strongest sorcerer, it was even harder to ignore in the daytime.

Suguru found himself slipping somewhere unknown. Stolen kisses in the gym were sometimes all that kept him afloat.

“Seriously, Suguru, have you lost weight?” Satoru asked when Geto came out of the shower, putting his hair in a bun.

He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “You asked me that earlier.”

“I was sorta joking, but now I’m looking at you…” Suguru heard a shuffle, and then a hand was on his arm. “Hey, what’s up?”

There was concern on his face, and Suguru saw Gojo’s blue, bright eyes searching for something out of place. How would he receive Geto’s worries, he wondered? As his lover? Or as the strongest?

Did he hear it too? Even now, even here?

He kept the smile on his face. “I’m fine, Satoru. Just haven’t had time to do some strength training in a while.”

It was so hot, so sticky that night, they barely touched at all.

The four hundred and fiftieth time was a disaster. Yuki Tsukumo had visited earlier that week, sealing that whatever Suguru path had been wandering down, there was no return from how far he had gone.

He laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to determine what it might mean: a world without non-sorcerers. Without the weak masses they had spent the last three years protecting. Without Toji Fushiguros. Without such threats to Satoru, to their future.

The doorknob rattled, and Gojo tiptoed in with the faint light.

He sat up, not expecting to see him for a few more days. “Satoru?”

“Ah, shit, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he said, putting a bag down and tugging off his shirt.

“No,” he rubbed his eyes, “I’m having trouble sleeping.”

“Ha,” Suguru could hear the smile in his voice, “I can see that. No offense.”

Suguru smiled back. “It’s fine.” He hummed happily, momentarily forgetting Yuki and the monkeys and everything else, as Satoru pulled at the blanket next to him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Satoru sighed, meeting Geto’s lips and letting his shoulders relax from the day’s work. “I got asked if I wanted to stay the night, but I said I’d rather be here if I could. Maybe now we’ll both sleep better.”

And they did, for three hours, until a banging on the door at 4:17am made them wake with a start.

Suguru opened the door to Yaga, a distressed look on his weathered face, and he froze.

“We need Satoru, Suguru,” the older man said, detachment creeping into his voice.

Suguru kept still. “I, I would check -“

“This isn’t the time to play dumb, no one is in trouble, Suguru, but he has a mission.”

Suguru gripped the door, and out of the corner of his eye glimpsed Satoru slip out of bed and reach for the shirt he’d cast onto the floor.

It was happening, a cog in the machine. To his best friend, his love, his everything -

“Yaga, he just got back, he’s barely slept -”

“I appreciate that, but this can’t wait.”

“What can’t possibly wait for him to get just a few more hours of sleep?”

Yaga sighed, deeply. “Haibara has been killed.”

Suguru felt his mouth fall open, his tongue suddenly hit with the taste of something akin to a curse. Wretched. Awful. Sickening.

He felt a presence at his side, a hand on the small of his back. He turned his head to see Satoru’s eyes, almost grey, his white hair disorderly, his jaw clenched.

“How?” Suguru heard him ask, but his voice was miles away, buried under the rapturous roar in his ears, the cicadas from the window, the drum of his heart.

“Nanami is still giving us the details, but it appears to have been misgraded. They couldn’t manage.”

Gojo sighed and muttered a curse under his breath, before fumbling around to grab the bag he had previously dropped by the door. He exhaled, pulling the bag onto his shoulder, and casting a knowing glance at Suguru. “I’ll be back.”

That wasn’t enough for Geto.

“Let me go, too,” he said, turning to Yaga. He had no idea what his own face looked like, but Yaga’s expression softened, seemingly knowing that his request held more than what he let on. “Yaga, I should go too.”

“Suguru, it’s not necessary -”

“This curse has just killed our junior!” he snapped back, indignation creeping into his tone. “How can you say it’s not necessary?”

Yaga shook his head. “We believe that Satoru can -”

“Of course Satoru can,” he spit, and he was only vaguely aware of a hand gripping his shoulder, “but should he do it alone? Or do you just like seeing how much your new pawn can take on, all by himself? How much pain he can -”

“Suguru.”

It was a gentle voice that said his name - a lover’s voice, a friend’s. Satoru’s. It stilled him, made the thunder in his head quiet to a gentle rain, brought him back to his body, where Satoru’s thumb was making circles on his collarbone.

Yaga cleared his throat. “I’ll be at the cars,” he said, shuffling down the hall.

Satoru brought his free hand to Suguru’s that was still clutching the door, pulling it free and letting it rest in his grasp. “Suguru, I’ll be back.”

“You shouldn’t even have to go.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk like this,” Satoru sighed, tucking an errant black hair behind Suguru’s ear. “You said it yourself, it’s killed our junior. I do have to go.”

Brown eyes met blue, and they recognized, without words, a feeling they rarely saw in each other’s expression -

Fear.

Fear, from Satoru, that Suguru was falling somewhere he wouldn’t be able to catch him.

Fear, from Suguru, that Satoru was becoming something Geto wouldn’t be strong enough to protect.

Unless…

A kiss to Suguru’s forehead. One more whispered promise of I’ll be back. Another sleepless night for Suguru, wondering if that was true.

The four hundred and fifty-fourth time, neither of them could have known. Three weeks since Haibara’s death, Suguru seemed to only find the solace of sleep when Gojo was in his bed, for however many hours he could have him. He’d been home for two nights in a row, a rare instance these past summer months, and Geto marveled at the feel of white locks between his fingers and they talked late into the night.

“Have you seen Nanami yet?” he finally asked Satoru, after Gojo had regaled him of a new sweet he’d tried while away. He’d not even returned to the school after Haibara’s mission had been completed before being sent away again.

Satoru’s chest rose and fell. “I did today.” He thought for a moment, feeling Suguru’s fingers on his forehead. “He seems… incredibly dejected.”

Suguru’s brow furrowed. “His friend was just killed, Satoru. Our friend.”

“I know, shit, I know, just,” he sighed again, “dejected at it all. Like he couldn’t give a shit about being a sorcerer anymore.”

The dark haired man shrugged. “I can understand that.”

“How?”

“How? I mean, wouldn’t you be if you were powerless to stop the death of someone you cared about?” He watched Satoru’s eyes, curious about their reaction.

Gojo pondered for a moment, calculating on the ceiling. “I think it would push me to get stronger.”

Suguru’s fingers fell from white hair, and he rolled over onto his back. “Of course it would.”

He didn’t see Satoru’s brows raise at the muttered remark, but he felt the man prop himself up on his elbow to look down at him. “What does that mean?” A beat, and then, “is this about Riko?”

It wasn’t originally, but now that he mentioned it - “No, no, Satoru, I just,” Suguru found himself unable to meet his partners eyes, the eyes that were now constantly searching, always seeing more than should be allowed. “Seeing Haibara, torn open, it reminded me of what he stabbed you, and I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t… I can understand how Nanami feels, because if it’s just going to keep happening, then why keep going? Why keep giving our all to something that isn’t changing?”

A quiet moment, the sounds of the night outside, the rustling of sheets as Satoru shifted his weight. “Suguru, this doesn’t sound like you.”

Didn’t it? Hadn’t these thoughts been clouding his mind, his perception, for months now? Affected how he spoke to Shoko, performed in training sessions? Had they really had so few nights together, that this was the first Satoru had noticed?

He met Gojo’s gaze, the corners of his lips trying to create a semblance of assurance in his smile. “I’m just tired, ‘s all.” He joined Satoru on his elbow, and rested his forehead on his partner’s. “I don’t really sleep when you’re not here, Satoru.”

The sigh that escaped Satoru seemed to be one of relief, and lips found each other in the dark. When they parted, he whispered against Suguru’s mouth, “it’s the same for me.”

They held each other, grasping the familiar, staving off the unknown, if only from the confines of Satoru’s dormitory, if only for the hours when the sun had disappeared.

At eight AM, Suguru rose quietly, dressed, and packed a small bag for a mission to look into the decapitation of a man at a remote village with a long history of disappearances. He glanced at the mess of white hair propped up against two pillows, and wished they were leaving together.

Leaving all of it together.

He gave Satoru’s cheek the softest kiss goodbye, barely getting a hum of acknowledgement back, but he didn’t want to disturb him further, not on one of his scarce days off. Gentler than a whisper, he promised against his skin, I’ll be back, Satoru.

When Satoru allows himself to remember that morning, he hears the remnants of the words, the feel of Suguru’s hair on his cheek that never made it to the bun -

and then he closes his eyes, and tries again to forget.

The first night after the broken promise, Satoru replayed it all. Every mission. Every class. Every kiss. Every curse. Every night. Every touch.

He cursed his Six Eyes for not seeing the path Suguru had found himself on, for not being strong enough to pull him back. He cursed Fushiguro, Yaga, all of them, everyone who had made them spend a second apart from each other. From what had actually mattered.

Sleep didn’t find him, and when the sun crept in over the horizon and into his room, he wiped tears from his white lashes, and reached for his glasses.

The fourth night after the broken promise was an early one, at the insistence of Shoko, because he had punched Nanami. He hadn’t seen his junior much over the last few days, but as the three of them walked through the courtyard on the way to dinner, Nanami had sighed as Shoko caught him up on Geto’s defection.

“I can’t say I blame him,” the boy grumbled, and the words had barely left his mouth before a fist connected with his nose, knocking him against the wall.

Satoru had used his forearm to press the underclassman against the stone, teeth grit, jaw clenched. “What the fuck do you mean by that?!” He barely felt Shoko’s hand on the back of his jacket, feebly trying to pull him away.

Nanami sighed, wiping a trickle of blood away from his nose. “I don’t blame him for walking away, is all, Gojo.” He’d let his weight fall against the wall, shifting his feet. “I don’t think you can either.”

“I can blame him for murdering a whole fucking village! His fucking parents!!” Spit flew out of his mouth as his rage grew, landing on Nanami’s jacket. “I can blame him for saying he’ll rid the world of non-sorcerers! For fucking, fucking leaving without…” his vision went blurry, and the arm on Nanami’s chest fell away, and the floor fell out from under him -

Shoko succeeded in pulling him back by the tail of his jacket, and let his weight fall against her frame.

Lashes dotted with tears, Satoru had resigned to let her lead him back to the dorms.

As Shoko was making her way out, after she’d gotten him settled into his bed that he no longer felt comfortable in, he mumbled, “He promised he’d be back, Shoko.”

The girl sighed, and Satoru could smell the lingering smoke on her breath. (He could smell practically everything now - he could smell shampoo that wasn't his, lingering on the towel by his bed, sweat that didn't belong to him sticking to his sheets. It made him nauseous. It made him ache.) She straightened the pairs of shoes next to his door, not meeting his eyes as she asked, “Do you want to go look for him?”

He’d considered it more than once, wondered if he tried hard enough, he could go back to that sidewalk and follow whatever faint path of residuals he could to wherever the curse user had gone. He thought he’d go back to the village if he had to, start the path from there.

But then he’d remember that Surguru broke his promise. For reasons he couldn’t yet grasp.

If you want to kill me, then kill me. There’s meaning in that, too.

Had there been meaning in them?

He didn’t answer Shoko, and he didn’t sleep, either. That wasn’t a luxury he seemed to have anymore.

The three thousandth, seven hundredth, forty-second night after the broken promise, was spent in the snow. Freshly fallen snow, off a pathway they had found on a bike ride the spring of their first year, and next to a tree where Satoru had carved a small “G.S.” at the base during their second year. Suguru had laughed, joked that it needed a heart around it, but stopped Gojo when he’d seriously started to add it.

Satoru had promised Shoko he would bury Suguru’s body somewhere remote, as quickly and quietly as he could, and somewhere unmarked.

But to him, to them, at least, the tree had significance.

The body - Suguru - in the ground, the dirt laid back over him, Satoru allowed himself to collapse to his knees next to the grave, and place his hand on the mound. “I’m sorry, Suguru.” His breath was visible in the early morning hours, the sky turning a light purple as the sun started to peek through the trees. “I’m sorry.”

He kissed the palm of his left hand and laid it next to his right, on the dirt above where Suguru’s heart rested, as snowflakes fell around his Infinity. Before he rose and made his way back to the school, he whispered one last promise into the morning air:

I’ll be back, Suguru.

#jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satosugu #satosugu fanfic #stsg #geto suguru #gojo satoru

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spadesolace · 1 year ago

Text

love you twice: new jeans

synopsis: it had been almost 2 years since their breakup, haerin and yn had met new people, become newer versions of themselves. the same feelings still linger.

words: 1.8k

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It had been almost 2 years since the best friends had decided to remain friends.

8 months into the break up, YN had already started dating someone new that she was classmates with the year before, Yoo Eunji. At first glance, clearly Eunji had the personality for anyone to fall for her, it was a bonus that she was attractive (according to YN). When asked about their relationship, people assumed that YN made the first move, only to be surprised that Eunji had liked YN for quite some time. This did not go unnoticed to Haerin, she watched her best friend who always had time for her on the weekends slowly spend it with her girlfriend.

“YN, wanna go to the arcade this weekend?” Haerin was hoping you haven’t made plans. She misses her best friend more than anything but it was as if she was slowly drifting away.

“Sorry, Hae. Eunji already asked me to go to the cinema this weekend. How about next week?”

YN kept her word, if she missed out on a hangout with Haerin, she’ll spend it the following weekend. She shouldn’t feel butterflies in her stomach for when her best friend would come over and spend her time with her. She shouldn’t be jealous of Eunji for calling you “hers”, most definitely not. Haerin was left in the state of confusion, clearly YN still knew the way to her heart yet it wasn’t intentional, YN now viewed Haerin as her childhood best friend who was born on the same day but an hour earlier than her, the same girl who had confessed under the cherry blossoms, and the very same person who took her first kiss.

“Haerin, if you’re so bothered with YN having a girlfriend, why not try dating as well?” Danielle was always willing to listen to Haerin rant about YN whenever she would say no to a hangout or if Eunji really wanted to go on a date with her girlfriend. Until that time, nobody knew of their past.

“I don’t know, Dani… YN still tries her best to spend some time with me.”

“There’s a guy in my class that’s been asking me to introduce you, why not start with that?”

That was the start of how Kim Minwon, part of the baseball club, had the looks yet the personality was a bit questionable. Lee YN sure noticed how the boy did not understand the concept of personal space when he was with Haerin, hand around her waist, leaving no space at all. YN shouldn’t feel rage, sadness, and wanting to punch his face when she has Eunji. She shouldn’t feel butterflies in her stomach if Haerin ditches him for her, definitely unacceptable when she has a girlfriend of 4 months.

Haerin let him court her, some feelings were already being developed and she had finally seen YN as her best friend. It took him 3 months only for him to ask the question and Haerin agreeing. The pair was happy for each other in the public eye. If they could put their past relationship behind and move on, that means they could remain best friends. Slowly, the feeling of jealousy and butterflies was bottled up, keeping up the front that they’re only best friends. Going on double dates and yet at the end of each date, they’re together in the comfort of Haerin’s bed, watching a documentary about sharks or frogs, laying down with no space in between. We’re best friends, this is fine.

“Hae, you got any plans after class?” Usually on Tuesdays, Haerin was free, YN was sure of this, because Minwon has practice every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. What threw her off was Eunji answering for Haerin. She likes her girlfriend but it was getting on her nerves how she would try her best to not let you spend your free time with Haerin.

Yes, Eunji has been her girlfriend for almost two years, but Haerin has always been the top priority (with Hyein). All she could do is agree and go on the impromptu date with Eunji, everyone in the group knew there was something going on between YN and Eunji behind closed doors. Asides from being called the power couple, YN being one of the active students in their Science club and running for student council president, while Eunji was a well-known ballerina and straight-A student; something was off.

“Alright, where do you wanna go?” Eunji always picks where and what their date is, if a certain place holds a core memory with Haerin, YN would immediately suggest something else. One time, Eunji wanted to go on an arcade date where YN and Haerin frequently go to, she had suggested a different arcade that was a bit smaller but was still good.

“Dog cafe? I wanna see the corgis again.” There was an unspoken rule about cats between the pair; never mention them especially when YN would space out and look at one siamese cat that looked like Haerin. It was never mentioned why she looked so lost looking at the feline, Eunji assumed she was afraid of cats.

“Come on, if we go now we can catch them before supper.”

Eunji loves holding YN’s hand, it was soft, smooth, and it was the perfect size despite being bigger than hers. She loved the way YN would tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and shyly look away if they made eye contact. Eunji had fallen so deep for YN that even when she clearly sees that YN doesn’t see her the same way as when they started dating, she stayed.

After their first year of being together, Eunji watched as YN slowly drifted her attention back to Haerin, she understood that she was a close family friend, nothing wrong with that. Even when Hyein had admitted to her that she does not feel any sort of connection with her, she didn’t mind. The Lee sisters were close with Haerin, no one could take that spot, it was made aware to her when she was having dinner with the Lee family and Haerin came over as her parents were out of town. Eunji was going to sleepover and there was no spare bedroom as YN’s grandparents were in town to visit the sisters. Hyein was not that comfortable to share a bed with Haerin, so she agreed to go home that night. YN walked her home, held her hand, talked on the way to her house, kissed her good night and thanked her for understanding. Eunji watched as YN walked back home in the dark, hands in her pocket, earphones plugged right away… slowly drifting away. Haerin had taken her spot.

Eunji knew that there was little to no space for her in YN’s heart.

“Look, the corgis just finished their bath. They smell so nice.” Eunji watched her girlfriend play with the dogs, a huge smile on her face as one of them sat on her lap. She missed seeing her like this, carefree and all attention on her. Her lemonade nearly finished along with her dark chocolate chip cookie, where was this version of YN hiding? Somehow she was happier despite her cancelling her supposed plans with Haerin to spend it with her. Nothing made sense anymore, it was as if one day YN wouldn’t care that much and spend her time with Haerin and the following was that she’ll be following Eunji like a lost puppy.

“YN, babe.” The girl hummed as a response, still petting the dog on her lap. “If I asked you to choose between me and Haerin, who would you choose?”

Almost two years of being together, Eunji never asked that. YN assumed that she knew that Haerin has been her top priority along with Hyein, that the comfort of her sister and best friend is what matters. She also knows it's wrong to put Eunji last, second could have been fine but last between the three people she cares for, says a lot.

“What makes you ask that?” YN knows and understands completely why Eunji asked that, she has imagined this scenario multiple times, overthinking and overanalyzing everything. Feelings have been bottled up for so long, she knew she’ll slip someday, she didn’t expect it to be today.

“Your priorities… somehow you put Haerin first almost every single time.”

“She’s my best friend. I see her as family.” Not a complete lie, but YN knew that, Eunji as well.

“Be completely honest with me, YN. When you told me you had an ex, was it her?” Was there a point in lying when her facial expression screams guilty. Eunji finally caught up.

“No.” Haerin was still YN’s number one priority, it was a promise that neither one of them would snitch or admit they were exes. It was between the pair and Hyein.

“YN… to be completely honest, I don’t believe you.” Who would? I clearly lied straight to your face. Haerin is my ex, my first love, I’ll choose her. Why bother asking me this, Eunji?

“Eunji… if you’re jealous of Haerin-”

“I am… it hurts to watch my own girlfriend put her best friend first over me. Be honest, just this once. Was she your ex?”

I want to lie. I don’t need you to know that.

“Haerin is dating Minwon, she’s into guys.”

“We’re not getting anywhere with you deflecting my question.” Eunji, please stop. The last thing I want right now is for you to be hurt.

“It’s between me and her, YN. I can’t always be the second option, the last choice.” Eunji was right, she’s the girlfriend, the first priority should be her and not Haerin. Deep inside, YN wants to lie, she wants to properly love Eunji but how could she?

Eunji isn’t the quiet girl who would always sit next to her. She wasn’t the cat-like girl who had a fascination with frogs and cats. Clearly, she wasn’t the girl who is a part of the dance club and could dance as if her life depended on it. Eunji wasn’t Haerin. She can never be Haerin, and it pains her to admit the truth.

“I’m sorry… it’s just-”

“Haerin is your first love. I understand, although it pains me to say this.” Eyes glossy, trying not to cry, voice hoarse as she tries not to look at YN who had a saddened expression.

“I’m letting you go. I do hope you make a move rather than waiting for a miracle to happen.”

“I’m sorry… and thank you.”

YN walked Eunji back home, holding her hand, it was quiet compared to when she first walked her now ex-girlfriend home. Once they reached the gate, one last kiss; a kiss goodbye mixed with guilt and gratitude. If her heart wasn’t occupied, she would have properly loved Yoo Eunji.

I guess it's time for a new me. A better me… for Kang Haerin.

#newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #newjeans #haerin #kang haerin newjeans #haerin newjeans #haerin imagines #kang haerin x reader #kang haerin #love you twice #lyt!yn

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choicesholidays · 1 year ago

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Choices Holiday’s Festival of Fears Halloween Prompt Event

It's almost October and that means Halloween/Samhain time! In the spirit of Creepy Campfire Tales (Special thanks to the creator of Creepy Campfire Tales, @annabellewynter for her gracious support of this endeavor), Choices Holidays is hosting a creepy prompt event!

Welcome to a month filled with Murderous Mondays, Terrifying Tuesdays, Witchy Wednesdays, Threatening Thursdays, Fiendish Fridays, Sinister Saturdays, and Spine-Chilling Sundays!

Below are a series of quotes, prompts, and memes meant for inspiration, but you are not required to use them. Any scary story will get reblogged and added to the master list. This is open to all choices fandoms.

All creative endeavors are welcomed: Fics, art, edits, mood boards, whatever you’re inspired to create!

The deadline is All Hallows Eve: October 31st, 2023, 11:59 p.m. CST.

Be sure you tag @choicesholidays #choicesholidays, and #festivaloffears for reblogging and inclusion on the master list at the end of the event.

Please feel free to reach out to this blog or @angelasscribbles with any questions, concerns, or suggestions.

Prompts are under the cut.

Quotes for Inspiration:

“The night is dark and full of terrors.” ~Game of Thrones, George R.R. Martin

“Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?” ~ Tim Burton’s Batman (The line belongs to The Joker)

“Quoth the Raven nevermore!” ~The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe

“We all go a little mad sometimes.” ~Psycho (1960)

“Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep.” ~A Nightmare on Elm Street

“I see dead people.” ~The Sixth Sense

Writing Prompts:

The following prompts came from The Write Practice.

Creepy Story Writing Prompts

1. It's late at night, and you hear footsteps in the cellar but you're definitely home alone…or so you thought.

2. You've put that doll in the cabinet, in the closet, in the attic, but no matter where you tuck it, it always shows back up on the sofa. On Halloween night, you find it watching you…

3. A bad-tempered businessman is driving home after a long day of work. He thinks he sees his kids trick-or-treating and stops to pick them up but those aren't costumes.

4. It's Halloween night and you and your friends think it would be fun to visit the local town's annual corn maze. But when you're inside it, someone inside the maze doesn't look like an actor in a costume. And shortly after, your friends start to disappear one by one.

5. You don't believe in the rumors that say a certain scary book is cursed—and that anyone who reads it will meet their maker by the end of the week. So naturally, you read it. And then things start going wrong…

Monster/Ghost Story Writing Prompts

6. A young woman goes to her grandmother's house for tea on Halloween night. They have a wonderful time together, sharing stories, joy, and the best times of family. The next day, the woman learns her grandmother has been dead for a week and no one could get ahold of her to tell her.

7. A little boy is lost in the woods, but at least his faithful dog is with him. As they look for the way out, the dog defends his master against terrifying monsters and animals. But the closer they get to escaping the dark forest, the more apparent it is that they'll need to face the person, or thing, releasing these monsters in the first place.

8. A farmer who dreams of being a scientist experiments on this year's pumpkins, hoping to enlarge them. He has a lot of success, until one of his potions is tampered with, and the cute pumpkin in his patch morphs into a monster that eats anyone who stumbles over its vines.

9. Your girlfriend/boyfriend brings over your favorite treat on Halloween, but when you eat it, you transform into a giant, poisonous snake that kills anyone who touches you. What do you do next?

10. You wake up on Halloween night, look outside your window, and see your sister sleepwalking away from the house. You chase after her but can't catch her until she plunges into a dark lake, where there's a mysterious song that starts to pull you deep below the surface.

Not-So-Spooky Story Writing Prompts

Not all people love scary stories. If this is you but you'd like to try to write a scary story—and have a fun time writing it—try tackling a (not-so) scary story prompt that could turn a potentially scary tale into something that is fun (even funny):

11. You hate clowns, which makes it even worse when your husband secretly decides to hire a clown for you son's birthday party—which just happens to be on Halloween.

12. Aliens have just landed on Earth and boy, did they pick a weird day to come. How do they respond to Halloween, supernatural or otherwise? Do they decide this place is just too bizarre and get the heck out, or do they stick around and join in the fun?

13. On Halloween night, lovers get to come back and spend the evening together one more time. One couple from the Roaring Twenties decides to come back from the grave to help their extreme nerd great-grandchild or the kid will never get married.

14. You decide that this year you're going to crash the ten top costume parties in town—and prank each one while you're at it.

15. A mad scientist determined to destroy the world falls hopelessly in love with a not-so-wicked witch. As hard as he tries, he can't impress her.

Meme Prompts:

#halloween #choicesholidays #festivaloffears #halloween 2023 #halloween prompts #choices fandom #all hallows eve #spooky season #halloween vibes

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blackwolfstabs · 1 year ago

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30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 8

COOKING

Mindy, Chad, and Tara make desserts for Thanksgiving.

“Alright, losers!” Mindy’s dictating voice echoed throughout the apartment from the kitchen. “Thanksgiving’s tomorrow, and Mom’s gonna be here tonight, which means all desserts have to be done before 5:00!”

From the sofa, Chad’s reply came, “Who died and made you the boss?” He didn’t look away from the television screen, caught up in an intense game on the Xbox. Beside him, Tara twisted her face over to where Mindy stood.

“Sam’s down for the count, because she’s still getting over Strep, so that leaves me as the next oldest,” she answered.

“No, it doesn’t. Danny’s older than Sam,” her brother retorted, but Tara cut in.

“But he’s been taking care of her, so he shouldn't be making any of the food.” She then reverted to the older twin, “What are we making?”

“Two things.” Mindy pulled two sheets of paper from the countertop and divided them. “We’ve got banana pudding and pumpkin pie, because Chad’s lactose intolerant.” She glanced over as Tara left the couch to meet her. “I’m thinking 2 people can work on the pudding, while someone else does the pie,” she suggested, then looked past the younger to call her sibling out. “That means get off the Xbox and come help!”

Chad sighed and reluctantly turned off the console. “Is Sam even gonna be able to join us tomorrow?” he asked upon joining them in the kitchen.

It had been 5 days since Sam had woken up in the middle of the night with a fever of 102.6°F and a terribly inflamed throat. Luckily, Tara had still been awake when she had come out of her room, where she checked in on her sister to find her feverish and barely able to talk. Since then, she had been battling fever, body aches, and blistering throat pain on and off, and because Tara was still having classes until the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Danny had offered to let Sam stay with him until she was no longer contagious to avoid her risking catching it.

“Yeah,” Tara replied, “She’s been fever-free for 24 hours, plus Danny said her throat pain is pretty much gone. It’s just her voice that’s still shot and she’s tired. But otherwise, she’s okay.”

Beyond the young couple, Mindy interjected, “But we’ll keep her out until tomorrow to be safe.” A dual nod from the other two had her moving on, “Okay, I’m gonna do the pie, so you two get to work on the pudding. Yeah?”

“Yup,” Tara agreed, while her brother shrugged.

“Sure.”

“Alright! Core Fuckin’ Four, Operation Dessert is a go!”

“It’s not Core Four without Sam!” Chad barked.

However, Tara just waved it off. “She’s here in spirit.” She moved over to the cabinet to grab a large bowl for the pudding mixture. “Besides, even if she was here, she’d probably end up doing it all herself because she’s a control freak.”

Chad thought in silence for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Triple Threat!”

“What?” his girlfriend tilted her head.

His sister shook her head, “Would you give the nicknames a rest?!” She leaned against the counter to set the oven to 425°F.

“Well, we gotta have something, since we can’t be the Core Four right now.”

“Ugh, whatever… Just get going, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Both Chad and Tara jinxed, which stirred up another topic. “Jinx!”

“You owe me,” Tara caught him first, turning back to the bowl she retrieved.

But he had a different opinion. “No, I don’t think so!”

“Yes, you do. Your whole life savings,” she specified.

Now, Mindy jumped in. “Oh, that’s nothing. He’s got, like, two pennies. Maybe.” Her and her twin exchanged a truthful glance, while she undid the wrapping on the pre-made pie crust.

“And that’s a big maybe,” he added.

But Tara just shrugged, not persuaded in the slightest, “Well, you better figure it out, because I’ll be waiting on compensation.” She drug the recipe into her view and read over it. “In the meantime, you can start cutting bananas.” She didn’t look up as she tossed her hand over to where the hand of bananas sat.

“Yeah, make yourself useful.” Mindy pulled out a knife and held it out to him, which he took.

As he passed behind the youngest, Chad didn’t fail to throw a playful jab. “You’re a little low on the vertical spectrum to be giving orders, shorty.” He felt her glare over at him, which made him return a smirk.

“You wanna add more onto your debt?” she challenged.

“Are you gonna give me the Black Friday deal?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then, no thank you.”

“Well, alright then.” As serious as she may have sounded, an amused smile scarred Carpenter’s face as she turned to retrieve ingredients from the fridge.

By the stove, Mindy stepped aside so Chad could get a cutting board. “You know, I cannot look at bananas the same, since we did that one lab in Biology…” She pulled a plastic bowl for herself. “Like, I wouldn’t say it’s weird, but knowing that it has DNA definitely makes it strange to eat now.”

Tara kicked the refrigerator door shut, for she was carrying the milk and small container of Cool Whip. “For real though. But at least for this, they’re mainly drowned in pudding. Plus, there’s Nilla Wafers, which slap hard,” she replied.

The other broke her concentration with a small jump, “Oh, you think normal Nilla Wafers slap? Girl, hold it.” She went to the grocery bags sitting on the dining room table and pulled out 2 boxes of the same brand. “Not only did I get the regular kind…” She came back in to emphatically drop the boxes next to Tara’s workspace. “I got the minis! My thought was to—”

“Put them on top?” Tara finished her sentence. “Yep!”

“Okay, Nilla Minis coming in hot,” she nodded in approval, “I like it.”

“Wait a minute!” Across the kitchen, Chad looked over his shoulder, catching both of their attention. “We should sign our names in the mini wafers!”

Tara picked up the box and shook it a little, “I don’t think we’ll have enough.”

“But we could do our initials,” he suggested, then changed the idea. “Oh, we could do T.T. for Triple Threat!”

Mindy shook her head, “No, we’re not doing that.” Meanwhile, Tara shut her eyes and looked away, looking like she was holding back laughter.

“Why not?”

Then, she spoke. “Because it doesn’t sound like initials!” She giggled, “Say it slowly, and you’ll know what I mean.”

The football player paused in his slicing to think about it. Then, it clicked. “Oh, God, you’re right.”

“Yeah? Got it now?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Mom would kill us, if she saw that we basically put ‘titty’ on a dessert,” his sister put her hands up in an indirect ‘I’m not even gonna bother taking a risk’. While the other two exchanged laughs, she pressed on, moving back to her cooking station. “I mean, if Tara’s are your preferred dessert, that’s your business. But I don’t need it advertised on the table.” At this scandalous remark, Tara exclaimed in surprise, which made her finish with, “You can tell her you're thankful for her rack, when you two are alone.”

“Mindy!” Carpenter’s face went red in embarrassment.

“Mindy, that is so inappropriate, dude…” Chad sided with her.

But she just shook her head and shrugged innocently, “Hey, you set yourself up for that one.” From there, the three trailed off the conversation, Mindy and Tara focusing on mixing up the majority of their ingredients while Chad sliced all the bananas and disposed of the peels and bruised parts.

“Chad, baby, be a dear and put the milk up,” Tara didn’t look up from checking the steps to the recipe again. She held out the carton to him.

Like the gentleman he was, he obeyed in undead chivalry and tossed the empty Cool Whip container into the trash in one trip. “You want me to start making the bottom layer, babe?” he quizzed. “All the bananas are sliced.”

“Yeah, that’d be good.” She retrieved the 9” x 13” tin pan from the edge of the counter and placed it on the other side of her, where he could get to it. “Just do the regular cookies and put a banana on top,” she told him, “Once I finish stirring this, I gotta let it sit for a few minutes and then we can layer.” Handling the whisk that was covered in the sweet mixture, she went to work, not missing the chance to lick the part that had dripped onto her finger.

Chase snaked up beside her with the full cutting board. “I saw that,” he teased, which made her look over at him.

“Mmm,” she flipped her wrist to catch another misplaced smudge. “You jealous?” There was a gleam in her eyes that teased him right back, her signature smirk plain on her face.

“Nope.” He slid his arm around her shoulder to pull her close enough for him to steal a kiss, sneaking his tongue on her bottom lip, where he noticed some of the pudding remained. Once he pulled away, he licked his lips. “Mmm, because you missed a spot,” he chuckled.

Her eyes narrowed to stare him down for a brief second. Then, she grabbed the box of wafers and shoved it into him playfully, “Here. Get to work.” While he obeyed her command, she checked-in over her shoulder. “How’s it looking, Mindy?”

“So far, so good,” the owner of the name answered. “Just need a can opener…” she muttered to herself, then raised her voice again, “Tara, do you and Sam have a can opener?”

Tara glanced in her direction, “Yeah, I thought so. Check the farthest drawer on your left.” When there wasn’t one in there, she paused her mixing and searched a few more drawers. “Uh… Let me call Sam real quick and see if she knows where it is,” she offered and immediately left to do so.

Her phone was charging in her bedroom, so that’s where she dialed. Luckily, there was a quick pick-up on the other line.

“Hello?”

The younger sister was taken aback for a split second at how hoarse Sam sounded, the first part of the greeting barely holding any strength. It was more like a wheeze. “Sorry to make you talk, Sam, but do you know where the can opener is?”

“No, it’s fine. We threw it out, remember? The knob that you turn the can with kept jamming.” She was nearly cut off by a quick bout of coughing that made her pull away from the speaker.

“Shit…” Tara hissed, “Does Danny have one? Do you know?”

“I’ll ask, hold on.”

There was a shuffling noise, before a rough throat-clear came from the recipient.

“Danny!”

God, she sounded like all of her vocal cords had been snipped with scissors. Her throat wasn’t in terrible pain anymore, but it sure did sound like it. Danny must’ve heard her though, because she went on to ask:

“Do you have a can opener? Tara’s asking.” One more quiet moment, and then she returned to the phone. “Yeah, he’s got one. Do you want him to bring it over?”

“No, I’ll come get it,” Tara insisted.

“You know, I’m not contagious anymore and if he was going to get it, he would’ve gotten it by now.”

“I know, and I’m saying I wanna come get it.” She didn’t give any highway option, “I’ll be there in a minute.” She hung up the phone and bolted back out into the living room. “I’m going to go get a can opener from Danny! Be right back!”

“Okay!” Mindy called, while Chad added.

“I’ll time ya!”

She left the apartment and raced down the hall. She always loved running indoors, and because no one was there to tell her ‘No’, she ran the whole way. It felt so much easier than running outside. She didn’t understand why, but she couldn’t really care to know either. Something about it was rebellious but free at the same time.

When she made it to her destination and knocked on the door, it opened fairly quickly. She immediately snatched the tool she had come for without actually acknowledging who held it out to her. However, she didn’t miss the chance to show her gratitude through her panting. “Thank you!” She reversed to continue her run back to where she’d come, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll bring it back at some point!” And that was it.

She made it back, shutting and locking the door, before tearing into the kitchen. “What’s my time?” She stared at Chad, panting.

“Oh, I didn’t time you. I was just playing,” he laughed. But he did credit her as he drew the spoon out of the pudding bowl, “You were pretty quick though.”

Tara let out a recovery sigh, while she rolled her eyes, then made way over to Mindy. “Here you go,” she passed over the can opener.

Mindy took it and immediately put it to use on the canned pumpkin. “Okay, as ironic as this sounds—because of our lives—if there wasn’t a can opener, I was just gonna take a knife to it,” she shared. “Like just stab the shit out of the top.”

“So, what, you’re now the Ghostface of 2024?” Chad teased.

Beside him, Tara started scooping the pudding into the prepared tin pan. “I actually think Mindy would be a pretty successful Ghostface.” She then directed her words towards the female twin, “I mean, you’ve come up with a monologue/game plan/theory for the last two. You could probably outsmart a lot of people.”

“Yeah, but what’s her motive?” Her boyfriend countered.

Now, his sister answered. “Uh, you.”

Carpenter gave a short chuckle. “LOL.” Then she glanced up at Chad, “You’re gonna be the first to die.”

“Okay, well, who’s your accomplice?” was the next challenge. “There’s always two killers.”

“That’s easy,” Mindy brushed it off, “Sam. She’s got a younger sibling that drives her nuts too, so we both have motives.”

“LOL,” her brother re-quoted his girlfriend. “You’re gonna be the first to die,” he continued, prodding Tara in the side.

She jerked her elbow back, nearly spilling the spoonful she was pouring. “Don’t do that, when I’m trying to pour! You’re gonna make me spill it,” she growled.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes!”

Meeks-Martin lightly nudged her as she moved her arm over the pan, “Don’t mess up.”

“Chad!”

“What?” he shrugged innocently, “I just said…” He softly pinched the small slip of skin that showed from the separation of her crop top from her jeans when she reached over, “Don’t mess up.”

Tara threw the spoon down and swiped two fingers along the inside of the bowl. “Stop it!” She flung excess pudding into his face.

Her partner was taken aback by this, flinching backwards as his eyes shut to avoid getting them involved. “What the fuck, Tara?!” He didn’t sound angry though—more like he was in amused disbelief.

Meanwhile, Tara was laughing. “Don’t blame me! You deserved it!” She licked the remaining mess off her fingertips.

Chad wiped his face. “Okay, you know what? Fine!” He grabbed one of the slimy banana slices and threw it at her. It hit her cheekbone and stuck to her hair as she froze in a gasp. “You like that?”

The other combed the morsel out of her hair with one claw-through and chucked it back to him, “You started it!”

“No, you did! Saying I was gonna be the first to die!”

“That’s ‘cause you are!” she fired.

“If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me!” he retaliated.

Mindy turned around. “I’m gonna kill both of you, if you mess up this kitchen!” she barked with the absence of anger as she went on to further joke, “And then Sam’s gonna come home, revive you, and then kill you again.”

Tara just laughed it off and shook her head. “Alright, we really need to get this done.” She used the outside of the spoon to spread the first layer of pudding evenly, before setting the bowl aside. “You can start the next layer, I’m gonna go get the rest of this banana out of my hair.” She playfully glared at her boyfriend as she made her way to the bathroom.

“Good luck!” he called after her.

Once she was gone, Mindy snapped her fingers in accomplishment. “Okay, the pumpkin pie is done,” she announced. “Now, it’s gotta cook for 15 minutes, then we lower the temperature and cook it for another 45.”

“Aight.” Her brother finished up organizing the last row of Nilla Wafers before he added the bananas.

Tara came back a minute later and looked over his work. “Awesome,” she approved. She slid the bowl over to the pan again. “This is gonna be the last layer, so we can put the mini ones on top.” With a nod from him, she began slathering the last of the pudding over the top.

Mindy took the box of regular-sized cookies and leaned against the counter to eat them, while Chad tossed a banana slice up into the air and caught it in his mouth.

It didn’t take long, before the youngest cleared the bowl and pulled it with the spoon over to the sink. “Okay, go crazy,” she gave Chad permission as she rinsed the used tableware. “But no T.T.! Do, literally, anything else.”

He just grinned, while Mindy gestured to the intended box, “You heard the woman.”

As he opened the box and began to place them accordingly, Chad mumbled with a smirk, “But I like the T.T.”

Because its audibly enhanced meaning gave it a new perspective.

this was literally so random. I had no idea what I was doing lol. also, this was more "baking" than "cooking" but they both involve food so idc :D

Hope you enjoyed! ♡ - parker

#scream #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #scream vi #scream v #carpenter sisters #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin #danny brackett #thanksgiving #30 day writing challenge #cooking #AU: All My Heart

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moonchildreads · 2 years ago

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small town

Chapter 15 - Don't You Want Me

IN THIS CHAPTER: Illicit library naps, a sleepover, and Important Questions get asked [7.3k]

WARNINGS: fear of coming out (lighthearted, everything turns out okay), self doubt, bisexuality? idk if that's a warning but if you haven't noticed yet, eddie and dot are both bi lol

A/N: happy pride friends! i swear to god i didn't plan for this chapter to be out and proud in june, i set the outline in stone months ago but i'm taking it as a happy accident. sorry for posting a day late, yesterday was Not Great but we should get back to friday updates this coming week. enjoy <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

You know I can't believe it When I hear that you won't see me

Monday, May 12th - 1986

The rainy spell that haunted Hawkins at all times continued throughout most of the Monday, up until lunch time when it finally relented. The sky was still mostly dark with heavy clouds hiding the sun while the Hellfire seniors stood just outside the cafeteria doors, waiting for Eddie to be done with the conversation he was about to engage in so they could head to their next classes. All four of them - Dottie, Gareth, Donny, and Jeff - were staring pointedly at him as he approached the cheerleaders’ table.

“Got the goods, Cunningham?” Eddie raised his voice to call Chrissy’s attention.

“Yup! Got ‘em right here!” she said, smiling brightly and reaching into her pocket to grab the remaining prom tickets she’d promised to save for him. He gave her the money and she accepted it gracefully, but when he leaned forward to grab the tickets, she snapped her hand back, lifting it over her head. “You better suit up, Munson, or I’ll personally block your way in.”

“We’ll dress up, I promise,” he said, crossing his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“You’re not a Scout, Eddie.”

“You don’t know what I get up to in my free time,” he snatched the tickets from her hand and began walking backwards quickly towards the doors. “See you around, Chris! Have a good day, ladies!”

Not a beat had passed since he’d walked away before Chrissy’s friends surrounded her, gossiping loudly about the situation they’d just witnessed. The Freak talking to their Captain? Who did he think he was?

“Ugh, he’s so… scruffy! Why do you let him talk to you like that?” Libby, a junior tumbler said, crossing her arms and burrowing further into her cheer cardigan.

“What do you mean? He was perfectly polite,” Chrissy defended him. “He just wanted to buy some prom tickets.”

“He shouldn’t be talking to you anyway, you aren’t in charge of selling them,” Melissa, a senior flyer and Chrissy’s second in command, scoffed. “I bet he’s not even gonna go, he probably just wanted an excuse to be near you. God, he’s such a freak.”

“I’m on the Prom Planning Committee, it’s more than okay if people ask me about tickets. And don’t call Eddie a freak anymore. It’s not right,” Chrissy said, stomping away to her next class.

“What the fuck is wrong with her?” Libby turned to look at her senior.

“I don’t know but she thinks she’s hot shit since that Ohio State cheer clinic she went to during Spring Break. I don’t like it,” the flyer replied, but Chrissy never heard her, already busy getting her books out of her locker.

Eddie was pulling out of his driveway to take Dottie home after their usual after school study session when she asked him to drop her off at Gareth’s instead. She mentioned they were having a sleepover at his house so they could work on a Chemistry project that had to be delivered during first period on Tuesday, and that didn’t do anything to calm the little knot Eddie was beginning to recognize as jealousy that formed at the pit of his stomach. The rational part of his brain, the one that knew there was nothing going on between two of his best friends, was at war with the dumb side that wanted to stop the van in the middle of the road and throw a tantrum. He settled on gripping the steering wheel until his fingers hurt when he saw her hug Gareth hello like she hadn’t seen him in years; the younger boy waved at him like Eddie’s heart wasn’t cracking at the slightest hint of being undesirable.

Oblivious to his friend’s feelings, Gareth guided Dottie inside towards his living room where his phone was so she could call her Dad and let him know she'd arrived safely. Once James had been informed of his daughter’s whereabouts, the teens got to work on the coffee table until Gareth’s dad came home from work. Gareth’s mom, Lydia, was a sweet looking woman with bright blue eyes her son had inherited and a big blonde hairdo. She really enjoyed being a hostess, which is why she had gladly slaved herself away in the kitchen all afternoon making a sweet and sour brisket she claimed was her specialty.

"Okay, so we're thinking regular crackers, marshmallows, cereal, toasted bread, untoasted bread, and dry pasta?" Dottie read from their notes.

"We should add something that we know is unhealthy, just to test it out."

"We have marshmallows."

"Yeah, but those are full of air, they'll probably burn really fast. We need something more dense, like… uh…," Gareth thought hard about what they could find in his pantry and still came up with nothing.

"D'you have peanuts? With the shell?"

"Peanuts are unhealthy?"

"I mean, not really, no, but they are, like, high in fat? And I bet the shells burn well."

"Let's do peanuts then," he nodded, jotting it down onto their notebook.

Their last project of the year was free choice, and after perusing a few science magazines in the library, they had settled on building a calorimeter. Truth be told, they should have done it earlier but between Mother’s Day, Hellfire and Dottie spending so much time with Eddie helping him get ready for his exams, Monday night before the project’s due date had to suffice. Gareth had asked his Dad for help to build two calorimeters, which were ready to go on the desk in his bedroom along with the blow-up mattress Dottie would be sleeping on right next to his bed. His Mom had been a little hesitant to let them bunk in the same bedroom, but her son had brought up a good point: his sister, Gretchen, would positively lose her mind if a stranger slept in her bed, so Gareth’s floor was a good compromise as long as they left the door wide open.

When Gareth’s dad, Gavriel, arrived home from a long day at work, dinner was almost ready to be served. Gareth was in the middle of an animated rant, explaining to Dottie about a very special part of their meal he had begged his Mom for to mark the special occasion. He had never really had a sleepover before, and even though they’d be up late into the night working on their project, he was still very excited at the prospect of hanging out with someone he considered one of his closest friends with no time constraints or adult supervision.

“You said you’ve never really tried Jewish food before, so I asked my Mom to make these for you,” Gareth explained, carrying a big plate to the dining table where they usually sat to do homework on Wednesdays, Dottie trailing behind him carrying cutlery and bread.

“They look like hash browns,” she said, peering at the mystery food.

“They are better than hash browns. These are called latkes. My Mom only makes them during Hanukkah, but honestly, I’d eat them every day if I could.”

“Didn’t know you did Hanukkah,” Dottie frowned. “Didn’t you say you went to your Grandparents’ for Christmas last year?”

“Yeah, we do both! And neither, now that I think about it,” he frowned too, like he was just realizing something about his own traditions. “We’re not really religious, I mean… We celebrate, but it’s more about family and getting together. We mix both sides.”

Gavriel was Jewish and Lydia was not, which in turn made their children half-Jewish. This was something Gareth’s friends were aware of, but didn’t entirely understand since they never really talked about what it meant. This, coupled with the fact that the youngest Coleman hadn’t really had close friends until he reached high school and joined Hellfire, led to his now very apparent enthusiasm while showing Dottie everything that made him… well, him. He didn’t consider himself spiritual in the broad sense of the word, but being Jewish was one of the only things he had always known about himself, the part of his identity that no matter what happened would always be his and he was proud of who he was.

Dottie sat at the dinner table with Gareth and his parents to share a lovely meal together and wondered for the millionth time in her life what it would be like to have siblings. She knew her friend and Gretchen, his older sister, hardly saw eye to eye: she was outgoing, sporty, had a lot of friends and a loving boyfriend, and Gareth was nerdy, shy, and obsessed with horror movies to a degree people that didn’t know him too well found off putting. Despite these differences though, it was clear from the way Gareth spoke about his sister that he would gladly walk through literal fire for her, even though he was the first one to chew her out every time she came home and left enough hair to make a wig on their shower wall. He put two latkes on Dottie’s plate, one with applesauce on top, the other one with sour cream and waited for her verdict, big blue eyes shining with excitement.

“Which one’s your fave?” Dottie asked him, holding the one with sour cream like Lydia was doing across from her.

“I’m not gonna tell you, you can’t be biased,” Gareth scoffed, fork halfway to his mouth full of decadent meat. “Gotta form your own opinion.”

“I’m gonna try them both, I just wanted to know which one you liked more,” she defended herself before trying a bit without any sauce first, just to get a feel of the texture. “Okay, yeah, I see what you meant now. These are better than hash browns.”

“Told ya,” he grinned. “Now try it with the sour cream.”

“Gareth, don’t be pushy,” Gavriel warned, but there was no need, she was already on her second bite.

Gareth waited with bated breath as she switched to her other latke, this one with applesauce. He watched her chew, her face giving away nothing while she wiped her hand on a napkin. A few moments of silence went by, both Lydia and Gavriel looking at each other with curious eyes, their son’s eyebrows going higher each second that ticked by. He had never been particularly patient, and Dottie was making him sweat for her review.

“So?” he asked, leaning towards her. “Which one’s better?”

“Are you gonna throw me out if I don’t agree with you?”

“Dot.”

“Sour cream’s better,” she said, and he groaned loudly. “It’s not that applesauce is bad, I just liked the other one more! The chives in the cream make it feel special. Thank you for making these for us, Mrs. Coleman, they are great.”

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me, sweetie!” said Lydia, beaming at the praise. “I like them with chives better too.”

“You are both so wrong,” Gareth said, looking at his father for support. “Tell them they’re wrong, Dad.”

“I like them with both sauces,” Gavriel declared before kissing Lydia’s cheek. “Your mother is a great cook, just eat and be grateful.”

“Ugh. Got no allies in this house.”

“Finish your dinner, Gare, it’s getting cold,” Lydia said, knowing better than anyone else how dramatic her son could be.

As the dinner progressed and his parents chatted with Dottie, eager to know more about her, Gareth couldn’t help but notice just how different it was to have a female best friend than to only have multiple sweaty metalheads around all the time. He loved Jeff, Donny, and Eddie, and he was pretty confident that he would go to war for them if they ever needed him to, but there was a soft quality to his friendship with Dot he had never really experienced before, not even with his sister. He felt less pressure to be traditionally boyish, could have longer, deeper talks and not have to worry about anyone making fun of his feelings when they overwhelmed or confused him. And truthfully, it wasn’t that he couldn’t be 100% himself with the boys, but having a girl in their tight-knit group had meant they were now a lot more careful about how they approached certain topics, or how they behaved in general.

No more farting around in each other’s faces when they got into the van or pausing to stare at boobs during Fast Times at Ridgemont High - they were much more in tune with each other now, noticing the little things they would have easily disregarded before, like Jeff’s apprehension towards the big brother he had once looked up to and tried to emulate, or Donny’s budding excitement at the thought of joining his family’s business after graduation. Or perhaps it hadn’t been Dottie at all who had changed the dynamic of their group, and they had simply, well, grown up. Graduation was just a month away, after all.

After dinner, Gareth’s parents retreated to their living room to relax after a long day while the teens gathered their supplies and slipped outside to the garage to do the practical portion of their project. Gavriel had spent a couple of hours on Saturday helping his son build all the necessary parts for two homemade bomb calorimeters; mainly they had just drilled holes into cans and hoped things would fit in once assembled. Once everything was in place, they got to work with the ease of two people who had been lab partners for a while and knew exactly what their tasks were: Dottie was in charge of the charts and Gareth of the equations. They were both equally excited about the burning though.

“God, this smells like a s’more,” he groaned, the barely there fire under their can of water consuming a marshmallow.

“I don’t like s’mores,” she said, jotting something down on their chart.

“You are so weird.”

They were both sitting in the driveway in front of the garage, the pavement under their jeans a little bit chilly from the day’s overcast sky. They had already burned the bread (toasted and untoasted), cereal, and dry pasta, and were now moving onto the remaining foods, the sickly sweet marshmallow scent mixing with the smoke in the night air.

“So…,” Gareth began, measuring the temperature of the water in the can.

“So?”

“Heard Eddie got you a ticket for prom.”

“Yeah,” she said, nonchalantly. “We got into an argument last week and he wanted to make it up to me.”

“Are you two going together now?”

“No, we’re still going as a group. He just did something nice for me.”

“Sure,” he smirked. “Something nice. Absolutely not strange at all.”

“Just spit it out, G, what do you actually want to ask?” Dottie turned to him with a tired expression.

“What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing!” she said, a little bit too defensively, which made him lift an eyebrow in response. “Nothing is going on, I promise. We’re just friends.”

“Dot, come on,” he shook his head, big curls swaying back and forth. “Are you seriously telling me that you two aren’t swapping spit during your dates? He bought you a prom ticket, he takes you to dinner all the time, he might as well have fucking tattooed your name on his left tit.”

“Okay, first of all, ew. Swapping spit, really? God have mercy on however kisses you,” she ducked to avoid a marshmallow to her head. “Second, we don’t go on dates. We get together to study and sometimes we eat together, that’s it. Nothing inappropriate has ever happened, so knock it off, okay?”

Gareth saw her jaw clench and decided to drop the subject entirely, switching topics to their current assignment and the different smells certain charred food reminded him of. They completed their work quickly and efficiently, packing up for the night before retreating to the safety of his bedroom. He offered her his shower and Dottie accepted it gladly, desperate for a few minutes alone to clear her head. He fished out clean towels from the hallway storage cupboard, and sent her on her merry way to the Jack and Jill he shared with his sister, wondering if maybe he’d mistaken the signals he’d gotten from watching two of his best friends interact with each other.

Dottie was spiraling. There was no other way to describe what she was doing while staring at the big bottle of hair conditioner in Gareth and Gretchen’s shared bathroom. The water was scalding, leaving her skin pink and her fingers pruny but she didn’t attempt to move from under the stream for several seconds. Had she really been that obvious? Could people tell that she liked Eddie? Could he tell? What if he didn’t know, but found out and was disgusted about it? She’d shared so much of her past lately, what if he used it as a weapon to hurt her? Oh, but Eddie wasn’t like that. He could be mean when he wanted to, but never to his friends, or at least not intentionally. He could be harsh sometimes, but he didn’t mean to hurt anyone. And besides, he’d offered up his life story to her too so that meant he trusted her. But what if he started hating her? What if he hated that he’d confided in her while she was secretly harboring this big ass crush that seemed to grow every day and left her breathless every time their hands touched? What if -

“Dot? You okay in there?” Gareth’s voice cut straight through the madness swirling inside her head.

“Y-yeah! I’ll be out in a sec!”

“Okay! You want egg cream?”

“What?” she turned off the water and wrapped herself in a fluffy baby pink towel, padding closer to the door.

“Egg cream, it’s like an ice cream float but with no ice cream. Like foamy chocolate milk. You wanna try it?”

“Uh, okay. Sure!”

She could hear him walking away towards the kitchen, socks cushioning his steps, and quickly changed into her pajamas trying to come back down to the present. Gareth had always been incredibly nice to her, and she considered themselves to be pretty close. She thought of all the boys as her best friends, but Gareth and her had immediately clicked in a way that was different than with the rest of them. Jeff was very much an equal, a calming presence, the friend she turned to when she was nervous and needed advice, and he sought her out for comfort as well, their relationship shaped around a sort of gentle give and take. On the other hand, Donny was the big brother she’d never had, guiding her in D&D when she felt particularly lost, sharing music with her, and helping her become more confident in her own skin. She’d return his affections with endless enthusiasm and curiosity, their friendship based on mutual admiration and genuine fondness. And Gareth… Gareth was the rambunctious twin she’d always dreamed of. They bickered incessantly, she’d steal his sweatshirts and then let him copy off her homework, and he’d threaten to burp in her face only to then steer her away from bullies in the hallways. Out of all their friends, he was the most likely to give her his real opinion on something without filtering it, and that’s why when she hung up the towel to dry, she decided he deserved to know the truth.

“Hey,” he said, looking up from the glass he was pouring chocolate syrup into. “You can have that one, I didn’t make you a big one in case you didn’t like it.”

“Thanks,” Dottie smiled lightly, and he smiled back. “What did you say this was called? Creamed egg?”

“Egg cream,” Gareth snorted. “It’s chocolate milk, but with seltzer. It sounds crazy but it’s really good, I promise.”

Dottie took a small sip and scrunched her face instantly making him laugh. With a confused expression, she went in for a second sip, and then a third one. She wiped the foam from her upper lip and set the cup down.

“It’s not gross, but it’s not good either.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda weird, right? That’s why I like it. It’s better with Fox’s U-Bet, but I only have Hershey’s,” he said, before taking a big gulp and downing half his glass in one go. “Ready for bed?”

“Can we take down your Freddy Krueger poster? It gives me the creeps.”

“You’re such a baby,” he teased her, but he was already on his way to his bedroom to unpin it from his wall.

They settled in for the night after brushing their teeth while sharing the sink, playfully bumping each other with their elbows for more space. Gareth not only took his Freddy Krueger poster down, but also his Night of the Living Dead and The Evil Dead posters while Dottie fluffed her pillow, the air mattress bouncing softly every time she moved. They lay in the dark for a few minutes, moonlight barely giving shape to the bumps in the bedroom before she turned to him.

"G?" Dottie whispered, not wanting to wake him up if he'd already fallen asleep.

"Yeah?"

"If I tell you a secret, you promise not to tell anyone? Not even the guys?"

"Of course," the sheets shifted against his legs as he rolled onto his side and she saw his hand extend until it was right next to her. "Pinky swear."

She lifted her own hand up and linked pinkies with him, shaking on it once. He stayed on his side, squinting in the darkness to see her profile but she never spoke. He thought she'd maybe dozed off, but the blow-up mattress began crackling when she turned on her side to look at him. A car sped down the street illuminating the room and both teens stared at each other until the lights dimmed again. Gareth could tell, if only for a brief moment, that she was terrified of what was stuck in her throat.

"Do you… do you wanna, like, come up here?" he asked, thinking of how he used to climb into his sister's bed when he had nightmares as a kid. Gretchen would always protest against it, but when he woke up in her arms after the sun had gone up, he knew she didn't really mind that much.

"Yeah. Yes, thank you. Just for a bit, though."

"Just for a bit," he repeated, moving back towards the wall and leaving space for her to crawl under his covers.

They lay on their sides sharing a pillow, their heads so close they could have smelled each others’ minty breaths if they just inched forward a bit more. By all means, the situation should have been extremely weird, but it wasn't. There was no rush, no expectations, just two friends waiting until one of them was brave enough to spill some truth into the midnight. Only mild nervousness at the conversation that was about to unfold could be found on Gareth's bed at that moment.

"I think I like Eddie," Dottie said, breaking the silence and bracing for an impact that never came.

"You think you like Eddie?"

"I… no. No, I know I like him. I like Eddie."

"Okay. And he doesn't know?"

"I haven't told him, so I hope not."

"And you don't know if he likes you back?"

"I was kinda hoping you'd help me out on that."

"Well," Gareth began. "Not sure I can. I've known him for years and he just doesn't talk about that stuff with us. Not since Polly Sue at least."

"Polly Sue?"

"This girl he liked back when we first met him. They were in junior year, I think they sat together in class. He asked her to prom and she laughed at him in front of everyone," he explained. "It was really bad. Her friends made fun of him for like a whole week."

"That's horrible."

"He never talked about girls again after that. I know he's kissed some after gigs but it hasn't happened in months."

"Maybe he found someone he likes?" she said, chest seizing at the thought.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. He's literally spending all his free time with you, so you must be doing something right. I bet he likes you too, but he’s too awkward to say it."

"Yeah? You think so?"

"Yeah! Come on, he'd be a dumbass if he didn't like you back. You're great!"

"You have to say that, you're my best friend," she nudged his leg with hers.

"As your best friend I have to also tell you that you're a freak for not liking latkes with applesauce."

"You're the freak, you sleep with socks on."

Both teens giggled at the absurdity of their fight, Gareth swinging a leg over her hip while she gave him a hug with her left arm only, the right one tucked under her head. He hugged her back, also with one arm, his chin barely touching her forehead.

"You know, if you really want to know, you could just ask him," he suggested.

"I can't walk up to him and go "hey Eddie! Do you like me? Oh, why am I asking you say? Don't worry about it, just curious!". Like, I'd literally rather fucking fall into the quarry."

"I'm not saying you should ask him like that, smartass. You could just ask him if he likes anyone, it’s a friendly question."

"And if he says he does and it's not me?"

"Then you know and you can move on. But honestly, I don't think you should worry. He got you a ticket for prom, he's getting all his grades up for you. I think you're good. Just, keep going like that, y'know? Show him what he’s getting with you if he grows some balls."

"You're really smart sometimes, you know that?" she teased, but her voice was full of fondness.

"Eh, I have my moments," he grinned.

They chatted for another hour, gossiping about things they'd heard in the hallways and making plans for the summer after graduation, the places they wanted to see, the food they wanted to try, the people they wanted to meet. Dottie slipped back into her mattress when the yawns became frequent, sheets cold but heart warm with the knowledge that if everything failed, she'd always could count on Gareth to be her best cheerleader.

Tuesday, May 13th - 1986

If Eddie thought dropping Dottie off at Gareth’s the previous night was bad for his blood pressure, he had no way of preparing himself for the absolute shock it was to see them hanging onto each other near Jeff’s locker where all his friends were congregating before their third period. Gareth was barely awake, clinging to Dottie to keep himself upright despite his head lolling onto hers every few seconds. Dottie looked equally sleepy but seemed to be less in danger of falling to the floor, shoulder tucked under his armpit and locking her body in place. All of that would have been enough to give Eddie a heart attack, but the fact that she was wearing Gareth’s oversized Van Halen sweatshirt tucked into her overalls had his brain firing in wild directions.

"Hey, man," Donny said, standing next to Jeff.

"Hey. You two good?" he asked the tired duo.

"Hi, Ed," Dottie smiled at him sleepily, and Eddie felt his insides turn to mush. "We got an A+."

"First A+ I've gotten since middle school," Gareth muttered, eyes closed but with a satisfied grin on his lips.

"Probably the last one too," Jeff teased, making the curly haired boy blindly lunge at him.

The sudden movement dislodged Dottie’s comfy stand, making her wobble against Eddie's side, left hand coming up to clutch the front of his shirt softly. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders to help stabilize her, but truth be told, he just wanted to hold her and it seemed like a good enough excuse. She didn’t seem to mind, letting herself relax into his soft embrace.

"Sorry," she said, stifling a yawn. "We stayed up really late last night, I'm exhausted."

"I can see that. You wanna skip Calc and take a nap in my van?"

"We can't skip Calc, finals are in a couple of weeks."

"Princess, you're dead on your feet right now."

"We aren't skipping Calc," she said firmly. "I'll nap in the library during fourth."

"Okay," he chuckled. "I'll wake you up for lunch."

Eddie didn't have the heart to wake her up after she fell asleep. Once fourth period started and they were free to study wherever they wanted, he dragged her towards a dark-ish corner at the back of the library and worked on his drawing portfolio quietly while she snoozed on the carpeted floor, her head resting on his lap. She slept straight through fourth period and lunch, and he made no attempts to rouse her from her slumber before the bell rang signaling the start of the last period and the end to their shared classes for the day. He walked her to her Home Economics classroom where Donny was waiting to fully wake her up with a bone-crunching hug, and hurried towards the Biology class he shared with Jeff who asked about their absence at the lunch table with a worried expression.

By the time they all reconvened in the parking lot at the end of the day, she was looking much more alive and he was hungry as hell. They didn’t stop to get snacks as they so often did, choosing instead to share Dottie’s BLT and chips she’d packed for lunch and the brownies she’d made during Home Ec on their drive to the trailer. She didn’t even wipe his tepid bottle of water before taking her own sip, and he hung onto that detail for far longer than he should have. Who could care about her wearing Gareth’s clothes when she lifted a bit of sandwich to his mouth while his hands were busy switching gears and pulling into a turn?

Wayne, as always, was happy to see her and gave her a big hug when they walked into the trailer. Dottie offered the last piece of brownie to him and Eddie could have sworn the old man thought about bringing out adoption papers right there and then. He left them to chat while he rearranged the mess in his bedroom and then the two teens retreated to the dry comfort of his bed, looming clouds threatening to rain again after it had drizzled all morning. Nobody had told Dottie the midwest was this goddamn rainy before she’d made the big move, but she’d much preferred it to how hot she knew summer was going to get as the days went by. She finished her homework for the day quickly and Eddie let her wander around his room while he steadily worked on his, Biology textbook open next to his knee.

When he was on his last question, he noticed she seemed to be bouncing with energy, keeping herself busy by rearranging his tape collection again. He snapped his textbook shut with enough force for her to jolt her head up, and as soon as he’d cleared his bed from any stray papers, she jumped on it, kneeling in front of his crossed legs with shifty eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Okay, spill. You look like Gareth when he overhears something juicy in the hallway,” Eddie said, leaning back onto the wall behind his bed and crossing his arms.

“Speaking of Gareth,” she began, and Eddie waited patiently. “We were talking about prom last night, and, well, it doesn’t really matter, but I was just wondering if you… because we’re all going together as a group, right? But you got me my ticket and I didn’t want things to be awkward if you did so I thought-”

“Princess, I’m so lost right now.”

“Right. Sorry,” she said sheepishly. She took a deep breath while she rearranged her legs to sit criss-cross in front of him. “I was just wondering if there was someone you liked, you know? At school? Because you got me my ticket and I’m really grateful, but I don’t want to ruin things for you if you want to get a date or something.”

“Did Gareth tell you I liked someone?” he narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“No! No, I asked him about- I can pay you back if you want,” she wrung her hands on her lap.

“You don’t have to pay me back,” he said, sitting up. “I don’t… there isn’t anyone I want to take to prom. I want to go with you. And, y’know, the guys. Hellfire Class of ‘86 and all that, right?”

“Yeah, no, I just thought…,” she chewed on her lower lip, not knowing where to take the conversation. “It’s okay if you wanna go with someone else.”

“Do you want to go with someone else?” Eddie asked, wary.

“I wanna go with you,” she said, and looked up at him suddenly. “Hellfire Class of ‘86, l-like you said.”

“Okay,” he said, untangling her wrung fingers and pulling one hand into his. “Good. Nothing’s changing then. You don’t have to pay me back.”

“Okay,” she repeated. “Good.”

Eddie pulled her by her hand until she fell forward into him, legs tangled on top of his blanket and arms around hers. Where were these questions coming from? Had Gareth mentioned something to make her doubt that he wanted nothing more than to take her to prom? He couldn’t wait until the moment he got to sit next to her in his van with her fancy dress on and a love stricken smile on his face. Dottie settled comfortably on his chest, the side of her nose pressed to his sternum, cheek squished against the soft cotton of his shirt. He wondered if she felt it too, that inexplicable pull between them, that overwhelming need to be close, to feel the heat coming off from each other’s skin.

One time very early into their friendship, Mike had mentioned that it was strange how touchy they both were with one another considering they hadn’t known each other for long. Eddie was someone who never hesitated to pull a friend into his arms, always play fighting with the boys, not entirely understanding what the phrase “personal space” meant. He was loud and boisterous, and he was equally showy in his affections regardless who was on the receiving end: Eddie Munson didn’t half ass anything - anything that mattered to him, anyways. Dottie on the other hand was much more reserved, but still didn’t shy away from physical contact. She was always letting her head fall into someone’s shoulder, consistently linking her arm with her friends’ while they walked through hallways, giving everyone strawberry chapstick kisses on their cheeks as a goodbye. But even after Dustin had pointed all of this out to Mike and everyone had agreed with his assessment and dropped the subject, Eddie had never stopped thinking about it.

In more recent times, he’d begun hoping that maybe all the work he was putting in was actually coming to fruition. He still had a long way to go in his eyes, but he couldn’t complain about the fact that he was currently holding the girl he was secretly in love with while laying on his bed, in the room she had helped clean, with his tummy full of the food she’d prepared. Would it really be too much of a sin to push things further a little bit? To start figuring out where he stood compared to everyone else in her life?

“What about you?” Eddie asked, hand coming up to brush her broken curls out of her face.

“Hm?”

“Do you like someone at school?”

“Not really, no,” she muttered, and he could feel her heart rate pick up under his own chest.

“What about Gareth?”

“Ew,” she said instantly, making him snort. “I love him, but I don’t like him like that. He’s like… Like an annoying brother. Did you know he snores?”

“Be glad all he did was snore. I’ve heard him fart in his sleep and it’s not pretty,” she chuckled. “Be honest now though,” he paused dramatically. “Do I snore?”

“You don’t snore,” she lifted her head, chin hovering where her cheek had been. “Do I?”

“Yeah. Thought we were gonna get kicked out of the library today, it was like an earthquake,” he said, making her gasp and slap his side. “No, you don’t snore, darling. You slept like a baby.”

“What about you though?”

“Do I sleep like a baby?”

“No - Do you like someone?”

“Not really,” now it was his turn for his heart rate to pick up. He hoped she couldn’t feel it under her hands that were now between her chin and his chest.

“What about Chrissy?”

“What about her?” he was confused.

“Dunno. The guys said you weren’t friends until recently and I just wondered. She’s pretty.”

“I suppose so, yeah,” Eddie thought about Chrissy for a bit. He did think she was pretty, but in the same way he thought a sunset was pretty. Nice to look at, pleasant to be around, but not particularly breathtaking. Not to him at least. He hoped Jason Carver thought Chrissy was as stunning as the way he thought Dottie with her wild hair lying on top of him right now was. She deserved that kind of adoration. “I don’t really see her that way. She’s a good friend, though. I told her she should talk to you, I think you’d get along.”

“Why?”

“Why I think you’d get along?” he asked for confirmation, Dottie nodded. Because I’m in love with you and she’s gonna be my maid of honor slash best woman slash whatever that shit’s called at our wedding. “You’re in World History together, right? You’re both sweet, and kind, and caring. And you both like Elton John. And Queen!”

“Everyone likes Queen.”

“Yeah, but not everyone has their records. I don’t. You could talk about that with her, she owns all of them. She says her Dad always gets a new one for her when he’s on a work trip.”

“You really are good friends with her, huh?”

“Like you and Gareth,” he said, wanting to make it clear his eyes were not wandering. He didn’t need Dottie thinking he wasn’t interested in her. “Well, maybe without the sleepovers.”

“Isn’t it dumb though?” Dottie said, furrowing her brow in mild irritation. “How people just assume that if you’re friends with someone of the opposite sex you must be into them?”

“I mean, sometimes friends like each other.”

“Sure, yeah, but not all friends do. Like, no one thinks you and Jeff are dating and I’ve seen you two almost kiss sharing a mic. If you did that with Chrissy, people would think there’s something going on.”

“Dot, you know exactly why people think that,” he lifted an eyebrow. “Fuck Reagan, remember?”

Dottie sat up immediately, looking very rigid. He took his time sitting up too, but took it as a win when she grabbed his hand and began playing with his rings. It almost looked like she was preparing herself to drop a bomb on him, and he couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t necessary. He knew what she was gonna say before she even opened her mouth, because whatever she looked like right now, was exactly how Eddie looked like a few years back when Wayne found a very special magazine he’d bought in Indy hidden underneath his bed amongst all the other ones he didn’t care to put away properly most of the time.

“Eddie, there’s… there’s something you should-”

“I know,” he said, thumb ghosting along hers. “Me too.”

“You too?” she said, confusion and hope mixing in her eyes. He nodded.

“Darling, you love Rocky Horror. That’s kind of a dead giveaway.”

“I like musicals,” she tried to pull back her hand but he held on.

“You do. But we both know it’s not Rocky and Brad you’re into when you watch it.”

“And,” Dottie swallowed a big lump in her throat before continuing. “-that’s okay with you?”

“Why would I care? It’s not like I watched it for Janet,” he revealed, a knowing smile on his face.

“So you like… boys?” she asked, wanting to turn all the cards on the table upright.

“And girls,” he said, her eyes snapping back to his. “And you like girls?”

“And boys. Like you.”

“Like me.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds before she let out an airy laugh, like she had been holding it for a while. Eddie wondered if he was the first person she’d ever told this to. Maybe someday he’d tell her that Wayne wouldn’t care either, and when it happened, she’d tell him that her Auntie Rachel didn’t mind as well, but for now, this shared secret would stay between the four walls of Eddie’s bedroom that no longer smelled like mold or vinegar. It smelled like home.

“Have you…,” Dottie began, not knowing how to ask. He picked up on what she meant instantly.

“Yeah. A couple of times at The Hideout. The guys don’t know though.”

“Do you think they’d have a problem with it?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think I’m ready to find out yet,” he said honestly. She nodded in agreement. “Have you?”

“Just one time. A kiss at a party. We were playing Truth or Dare.”

“Real steamy,” he joked, and she pushed him lightly.

“I was fifteen, okay? It was enough to send me into cardiac arrest.”

“I bet. I thought I was having a weird trip my first time. Didn’t help that we definitely smoked some strange shit before.”

“I feel silly now,” she admitted. “I thought you’d be upset.”

“Come here.”

He opened his arms and she crawled between his legs, squeezing his middle. He rocked them both side to side for a bit to make her giggle and loosen up. Eddie had a good feeling about where they were headed after this and let himself enjoy it, knowing that the knot in his stomach he’d identified as jealousy had begun unraveling. She didn’t like anyone at school and now she knew that he didn’t either. This was good. Things could grow on fertile ground, and he was doing a damn good job at prepping the soil. It was time, he felt, to turn up the heat.

“Hey,” he said, and she hummed in acknowledgement, not lifting her head from his shoulder. “So, you know my birthday is this week, right? Jeff was telling me today that we could have a movie night in his basement. You game?”

“On Thursday?”

“I was thinking on Friday after Hellfire. And on Thursday you can come over and we can, like, hang out? Wayne said he’s gonna get a cake, and I’d kinda really like to spend the day with you both. Nothing big. We can still do homework and stuff, I mean, I’m only halfway done with my portfolio and-”

“I’d love to come. Count me in, birthday boy.”

“Great. I’ll tell Wayne later.”

Later that night, when Dottie was tucked into her own bed after two long days filled with very interesting conversations, she pondered on Gareth’s words. Show him what he’s getting with you if he grows some balls, he had said. Just before she fell asleep, a sudden thought entered her brain and stuck to the front pushing away everything else. Maybe I am the one that needs to grow some balls.

taglist (comment below or shoot me a dm if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean

#bunny writes #small town fic #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x ofc #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things 4 #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #chrissy cunningham #joseph quinn #baby's first fic

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