#fic: cruel summer

[laracrofted]

rip cruel summer bradley, you would’ve loved murder on the dancefloor by sophie ellis-bextor

[ilysource]

CRUEL SUMMER:

❛ she looks just like a dream, the prettiest girl i've ever seen ❜

. . . jj maybank && shelly acosta

credits: [ jj maybank, style, psd ]

[juliaswickcrs]

BOOK POSTER :: CRUEL SUMMER ( tsitp s1 - ?? )

Susannah Fisher, Laurel Conklin, and Rebecca St. James had been best friends for years, so when they all got pregnant at the same time it almost felt like fate. Each two kids, all around the same age. Almost like it was meant to be. Este, her sister, and her mom had been going to Cousins for years. It was where her fondest memories had been made. It was where she and Belly became best friends, where she had her first kiss, and most importantly, where she, Belly, and Jere had all made a promise. That no matter how old they got, nothing between them would change. And then the Summer of '22 changes everything. It's the first year at Cousins without her dad, and this time Este has secrets of her own. Including a relationship she hasn't told anyone about, not even her mom and sister. Not even her best friend. But while for Belly Conklin, this summer was the summer she turned pretty, for Este St. James, this summer was just cruel.

tag list: @bisexualterror​ @foxesandmagic​ @iron-parkr​ @jvstjewels​ @camiemendess@a-song-of-quill-and-feather​ @arrthurpendragon​ @villain-connoisseur​ @starcrossedjedis​ @drbobbimorse​ @noratilney​ @stanshollaand​ @kingsmakers​ @elmunson​ @darth-caillic @mystic-scripture@aliverse​ @misshiraeth98​ @chrissymunson​ @asirensrage​ @eddiemunscns

[dunbonnets]

✧. ┊ Cruel Summer, a Bridgerton fanfic written by Bee

For as long as any of them can remember, the Bridgertons and the Cartwrights have had a bitter rivalry. One that started with their great-grandfathers, no one can quite remember why or how such a rivalry happened. Even now, almost 100 years later, the Bridgertons and the Cartwrights still hold that rivalry.

Like the other Bridgertons, Miriam was well aware of her family's age-old rivalry with their neighbors. When the Cartwright's eldest son begins courting her, she's initially against it, as is the rest of her family. There's something so captivating about Cassian Cartwright, and Miriam is suddenly unable to stay away from him. Her eyes are always looking for him in the sea of people at every ball, she is always hoping he is amongst the callers come to see her.

Cassian Cartwright did not intend to fall in love with Miriam Bridgerton. It was supposed to start out as harmless fun for him and his brothers, getting the young Bridgerton girl to fall in love with him. Infuriating the Bridgertons by courting one of their own was funny to the Cartwright brothers, and by the end of the season, he would leave Miriam Bridgerton with a broken-heart and even more desirable to other suitors.

But when he suddenly has competition for Miriam's heart, he finds himself taking such a task more serious than he intended.

edited by dunbonnets | jan. 2023

[peachysunrize]

IM ALREADY LOVING THIS AAAAAA

I can smell the angst from a mile away AND IM READY FOR IT!!!!

Cruel Summer (01/10)

Sunset's Bay

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: There are two sides to the city of Sunset's Bay, the rich who live in 'Crown's' and the poor who live in 'Black Waves'. What happens when a rich guy and a poor girl meet and inevitably fall in love? In the city where they live and with their status, that can't be possible.

words: 5.8k

I wasn't sure about posting this but if you like the story I will continue with it, it all depends on how you receive it😬

in case you like it, I want to advance that the story will be a kind of forbidden love by the fact of rich and poor hehe and I have a lot prepared, basically everything is already written, I just need to structure it in a better way

this has only been an introduction to the world of Sunset's Bay, so I hope you enjoy it and the warnings will be added as I post the chapters if you like it🤗

so enjoy!

Sunset's Bay.

The hidden but mostly inhabited beach on the California Coast, with golden and white sands that slide into crystal clear waters of such a deep blue that it seems infinite.

According to Google, it is one of the most beautiful beaches in Northern California and where teenagers living in surrounding cities yearn to come every time a new summer begins.

Sunset and sunrise on these waters are beautiful, as they transform the horizon into a palette of vibrant colors, from warm shades of gold and pink to soft purple and the deep blue of night.

Every summer, the beach comes alive with exciting surfing tournaments, as well as Sunset's Pier, the midpoint of the beach where everyone mingles, transforms into charity events with live music, fireworks and lamp shows that illuminate the night with a mesmerizing light show.

Boat and yacht rides add a touch of sophistication to the coastal scene. This allows tourists to explore the waters beyond the beach, visit small islands up close and enjoy the serenity of the open sea.

But on top of all that, everything is meticulously maintained, most of it, like the clean, spacious beaches, adorned by palm trees swaying gently in the sea breeze.

And your favorite section, the volcanic stone cliffs that are distributed in specific locations on the beach, offering rocky walls as you sit on the seashore behind you and all around, emerging as natural guardians of the beach.

And from their heights, you can take in panoramic views of all the beauty of the landscape, encompassing the vast endless ocean and coastline to the endless horizon.

You always looked forward to coming here as a child when a new term at school ended and your mother was always willing to come and spend the vacations with your relatives, the Blackwoods.

They always welcomed you and your mother and together with your cousin Alysanne, you had an amazing summer.

Ever since you were little, you have always been tattooed with the memory of the sand on your feet, the salt air in your nostrils, the water enveloping you completely and the sun in full sunset caressing your whole face as you watched it on the horizon starting to descend on the shore of the beach with the cliffs behind you.

And now, that's all you know, a life in Sunset's and your frequent days at the beach.

Living with your aunt and uncle and Alysanne in a house big enough to also make room for you on the beach shore, this has been your home for exactly a year now.

And now summer has begun.

"Sam has sent a message."

You raise your gaze to Alysanne as you finish cleaning one of the tables.

"He says to meet him at the beach with the others in the evening. Do you want to go?"

You place a small smile on your lips.

"Sure."

"Table nine!"

You both turn your heads toward your boss, who looks at both of you as if he wants to kill you at any moment, and you quickly rush to serve the food, briefly wiping the sweat from your brow to keep working.

"Hurry up, Blackwood," Mr. Frey tells you reluctantly as you begin to pick up the orders on the tray.

You let out a long breath and glance at the clock briefly before going to serve, realizing that you will have to put up with this for four more hours and for the rest of the summer as well.

Unfortunately you and Alysanne have to work, as it has been for some months now at a seafood restaurant where the 'rich' people from this side of the city come to enjoy the delicious food.

And because of the summer, the work has increased. But that doesn't stop them both from having fun now that summer has begun.

So as soon as you and Alysanne finish your shift, you head home as soon as possible and start getting ready to meet your friends at the beach.

Previously going out and having fun was a problem for Alysanne's parents, your aunt and uncle were not the liberal type, but as soon as you both started working and helping them with the household expenses with what you could, they started to be more permissive and understanding.

And this is your home, the less ostentatious side of the city, but still genuine.

Once you join Sam and all the boys on the beach, you head for the small boat floating near the shore.

It is not a luxurious boat, much less can it be compared to a boat or yacht of the latest model, but it is a modest boat that has seen many summer seasons.

And it has taken them all to many spots on the beach and you have shared many anecdotes on it.

And as the boat glides through the calm waters, you and Alysanne enjoy the laughter and stories shared by the boys from the neighborhood, Sam, Daniel and Chase.

The three of them have been childhood friends of Alysanne's and when you came to live with her officially, she introduced you to them and now you all have formed a group of friends where you enjoy afternoons like these with Sam's boat and where you also go swimming and surfing all together.

The sea breeze caresses your faces and the sun slowly begins to descend as it paints the sky in warm golden tones, until the afternoon turns into night.

And on the beach, with a campfire in the center, the starry sky above and all together in a circle, you start burning marshmallows and drinking beer.

"And tell us..." speaks Daniel, watching you both curiously, "How about the slave life for the rich people?"

You and your cousin let out a small laugh.

"Slaves?" you repeat amused.

"Well yeah, come on, you said your boss... what's his name? Grey? Payne?"

"Frey," Alysanne corrects him.

"Yeah, that," he points to her, "He's a jerk or not?"

"And no concept of patience and prudence," you add.

"I imagine the ones who eat there are worse, no?" asks Chase.

Daniel snaps his fingers at him.

"Lannister?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. Jason Lannister has that vibe."

"I put him in the top one of the most hated, along with the Baratheons. And I have a feeling the Arryns do too, I don't know why," Daniel again looks at you both, "Right?"

"You work for them," Alysanne tells him amused, "Don't you know that?"

"Well, it's not like they can tell me much for cleaning their boats and yachts but... no–they're extremely nice, though..." he holds up his finger with a thoughtful expression, "Though I think there must be something wrong with them."

Alysanne lets out a snort.

"They're rich and live at Crown's, practically owning all the establishments on the beach just like the Lannisters, Baratheons, Tyrells and others leaving nothing for us, the poor ones, because they despise us," she says with an ironic but true tone "Of course there must be something wrong with them."

"One time one of them didn't leave me a tip," you say, remembering, "The Tyrell's."

Sam looks at you amused.

"Tips are not obligatory."

"Oh come on," you retort, with a touch of irony, "They're rich, they can have yachts and mansions, but can't they at least give me a five percent tip?"

"Yet it's not obligatory."

Everyone lets out a laugh.

"Yeah, it's not the nicest place to work and the customers aren't necessarily nice but the pay is good, after all," Alysanne says as she shrugs.

And that's true.

Even though it's not a good work environment, the necessity is what makes you not quit and endure as much as you can. Even though your aunt and uncle are taking care of you and taking responsibility for you, you know you can't continue that way forever.

You want to be independent, pay for your own things, especially you want to pay for college, but to do that, you have to work and now this is the job.

Besides it's useless to find work elsewhere when the owners are still the same; rich and arrogant. And you can't find work on your side of the city because the pay won't be much or maybe they won't even hire because they can't afford it.

But right now, being here enjoying the summer with your friends and your cousin, you allow yourself not to think about it and just continue to criticize the rich people.

And after many cans of beer, Chase picks up his guitar and you all together start singing in the most off-key and horrible way possible, laughing amongst everyone with the jokes filling the air, just like the heat of the flames and the aroma of roasting marshmallows.

"You had a party and didn't invite me!?"

Almost everyone together turns their heads unexpectedly toward the approaching outside voice laden with amusement and mild reproach.

And then they all see Cregan Stark with a huge grin and a bottle of beer in hand.

The guys soon start showing off at the mere sight of him, making jokes and greeting him with great enthusiasm, as Cregan greets them.

And you just watch Alysanne with a sly smile, amused by Cregan's sudden appearance, but of course, she quickly hides all traces of whatever her reaction is to seeing him, adjusting her expression to one of neutrality as she tries to appear disinterested.

But you know.

And you're amused at how she acts as if you don't know her.

Cregan Stark is the spoiled son of one of the wealthiest families in Sunset's, living in one of the most exclusive areas on the Crown's side.

His appearance reflects his status; brand name clothes, really expensive accessories, late model car and an attitude that denotes familiarity with luxury. However, despite his wealth, Cregan has proven to be different from other boys in his social environment.

Although he has access to all the luxuries, he does not carry with him the air of superiority and arrogance that many would expect from someone like him and that those of his class usually display.

In fact, Cregan became friends with Chase, who works for his family in the ports.

And it was Chase who introduced him to the group and although at first no one felt confident with him, Cregan instead of imposing his status, imposed a genuine and friendly demeanor that won the friendship of everyone in the circle.

Later everyone understood that he doesn't really enjoy being with people from the same environment as himself. The wealthy teenagers he usually hung out with, for the most part, were overly judgmental and arrogant.

So thanks to Chase, he found company with all of you, the guys from across the city who don't have a mansion and all the money in the world, but who are genuine and free of pretense.

Despite the looks people give Cregan for not understanding his choice of company, he deliberately ignores them. His parents don't say anything to him either, although he says they clearly prefer that he stop interact with you.

"I am deeply, intensely and extremely offended," he says expressing mock indignation, holding a hand to his chest, watching you incredulously but amused.

"Come on, man, don't get dramatic," Chase tells him giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder.

"Yeah, we're just getting warmed up," Sam encourages him.

"Besides..." says Daniel, in an exaggerated tone, "We can't send messages across the beach, us poor people have to use carrier pigeons like the olden days to get anything to you, but guess what... we're so poor we can't even afford pigeons."

Everyone lets out a laugh, enjoying Daniel's humor in implying the differences between the poor and the rich on the beach.

"Stop, seriously, why didn't you guys tell me you were doing this?" Cregan asks, taking a seat on the logs.

"I heard there's a party on your side of the beach and I figured you'd be heading over there," Chase tells him, "Which you did, didn't you?" he points to the beer in his hand.

He lets out a long breath.

"Yeah but it was pretty fucking boring."

"Boring?" you repeat incredulously, "A party with a DJ, champagne and yachts I highly doubt is boring."

"Well, not that it wasn't fun," he says looking around and observing everyone, "But I wanted this, to be with you guys, the atmosphere."

"And how did you know we were here?" asks Alysanne curious.

"I didn't exactly know," he smiles at her, "So I just decided to come and try my luck."

"Oh man, stop it or you'll make me cry," Daniel jokes, holding a hand to his heart.

"He loves us, doesn't he?" asks Sam, with a smirk.

"Yeah, he definitely loves us."

Everyone laughs and you watch discreetly as he and Alysanne start throwing their little looks at each other.

"Party with DJ and yachts? Man, if I were you, I'd be enjoying that," Sam confesses, shaking his head in a gesture of incomprehension.

"It's not big deal and people are hateful, believe me."

No one argues with him about that but you too sometimes wish you could have fun like that, have the experience of going to a beach party like the rich kids in the movies, just once.

But the time will come, someday, there are still many summers left to enjoy.

The conversation flows as the boys settle around the campfire, the warmth of the fire contrasting with the cool night breeze blowing in from the sea.

The atmosphere is filled with laughter and banter, and the relaxed beach setting becomes the perfect backdrop for a night of genuine camaraderie.

Cregan, with his carefree and genuine attitude, seems to fit right in with all fo you and that he values sincere company over superficial luxury.

And you don't know exactly how much more time passes or how many beers that Daniel brings back the theme of the rich party on the other side of the beach.

"Hey, Cregan," he says, leaning forward with a mischievous expression, "Since you're here, why don't you take us to that party? I'm sure it's not as bad as you say."

Cregan raises an eyebrow, amused but surprised.

"What?"

Something about Daniel's words clicks in everyone's head, even yours, so you quickly exchange glances with Alysanne. And Cregan notices how everyone starts to truly consider it.

"Do you guys really want to go to that party?"

"And why not?" asks Alysanne, with an grin, "I'm sure we can have fun, even if we're not part of the rich circle."

"Yeah, and besides..." adds Sam, with a persuasive tone, "It would be interesting to see what the other side of the city is like from the inside. We've never been to a party like this."

Cregan seems to think about it for a moment, looking at the boys with a mixture of doubt and amusement.

"Seriously you guys are telling me this? The rich haters?"

You shrug.

"The rich hate us too."

"And that's precisely why we want to go," Sam says, gesturing animatedly, "We want to try something different. And who knows, maybe we'll give you a good reason to have a little more fun at that party. Right, Chase?"

Everyone looks at Chase, who shrugs.

"I guess that wouldn't be bad."

"But you haven't thought this through," Cregan insists, "As soon as they see you all, they'll know you're not like them."

Everyone looks at themselves and well... he's right.

The rich, especially those who are the same age as you, have a radar to recognize someone who is just like them... or not.

But you don't blame them, since you have them too, the difference is that you don't make disgusted faces or criticize in whispers as soon as you notice.

You notice your two-piece bikini top is wrinkled and is clearly second hand, besides your worn-out sandals. Alysanne is also in the same condition as you and the boys... well, they're worse.

Sam's shirt is torn, Chase's is torn, and the clothes are visibly secondhand.

"We have better clothes at home," you tell Alysanne and she nods.

"And we take our shirts off and stay in shorts," Daniel says, in solution, "Are we at the beach or not?"

"And if something goes wrong, we can always run out and come back here," Alysanne suggests.

Everyone nods and basically watches Cregan with puppy dog eyes, hopeful that he will take you to his kind of people.

"What do you think, Cregan?"

Cregan is silent for a few seconds, his gaze sweeping over the group around him, analyzing and thinking about all the things that could go wrong. And he doesn't pass up the abandoned cat look that Daniel and Sam throw at him.

And finally, he lets out a laugh and a resigned sigh.

"All right, all right. I'll take you. But if we have a bad time, don't say I didn't warn you."

"That's what I like to hear!" exclaims Sam, raising his arms in victory.

"We won't regret it."

"We may not but the rich will."

"Thanks, Cregan," says Alysanne, patting him on the back.

You frown as you watch her gesture and also notice Cregan's confused look for a moment, but go back to watching the boys.

"Well, then let's go before I change my mind."

You put out the campfire, pick up the trash and with laughter they all very animatedly walk away from your spot on the beach, heading first towards the trash cans and then towards Cregan's car.

"You do know Cregan likes you, don't you?" you say to Alysanne, walking a little further away from the guys.

She gives you an incredulous look.

"What?"

"Oh come on and you like him too, don't deny it."

"Of course I don't."

"Of course you do."

"You're crazy."

"And you won't stand a chance if you keep treating him like just a dude."

"Oh yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

You let out a laugh, understanding that it will be difficult for her to accept and share it with you, so you give her time. The guys behind you laugh too, with the echo fading into the salty air, leaving the sea breeze and the sound of the waves behind.

The difference in locations is completely noticeable.

You leave behind the small wooden houses, the unkempt streets, the establishments where you and your friends can shop, the bicycles and old cars, to move to large neighborhoods with green grass, trees and bushes on every corner with huge luxurious houses, almost mansions with modern cars and expensive decorations.

The guys are excited and so are you, as you have never explored these sections of the beach before, which are completely exclusive and with access for the rich people.

Obviously there are entrances with booths and security guards, so Cregan's appearance alone proves he's a Stark and he's allowed in without objection.

And soon enough, you arrive at the party.

"Oh my goodness, look at this," exclaims Alysanne, wide-eyed as she takes in the scene.

"That's a Prestige F4?" asks Sam in surprise, eyeing the luxurious yacht in the distance.

"Seriously, how much money do these people have?" mutters Daniel, in shock.

"More than you'll ever have," Alysanne tells him with a smirk as you all walk onto the beach illuminated by the party lights.

"You don't know that," Chase replies to her, pretending to be offended, "Maybe someday I'll get rich and buy one of those," he points to the yachts.

"I'm very offended that you didn't invite us to your parties sooner," Daniel says to Cregan, putting a hand to his chest as if he were badly wounded, "How could you hide all this from us?"

"Don't draw too much attention to yourselves, guys," Cregan asks with a mixture of concern and amusement in his voice.

"We won't," says Sam, "We'll just enjoy ourselves apart from the others but inside, you get it?"

The music starts to get louder and soon enough, we are inside the party.

Blue and purple neon lights illuminate the white sand, creating a dazzling contrast against the night sky. Waves break gently on the shore, almost muted by the music vibrating through the air.

There is indeed a DJ from a raised platform and most of the people here dance in the center to the music, some with cocktails in hand, bottles of champagne or recording the moment on their phones.

Near the dock, several luxurious yachts are docked, all decorated with lights flashing to the rhythm of the music. There are people inside them, enjoying the party from right there.

Some people get off the yachts to join the party on the beach, while others stay on board, enjoying the view and the exclusivity it offers.

If not beer, there is a bar offering a variety of exotic drinks and gourmet appetizers, such as sushi, caviar and canapés.

And throughout the party, groups of people are spread out, chatting animatedly, laughing, toasting and dancing. There are also party games, such as beer pong and spin the bottle.

While others gather around improvised campfires farther away near the sea, where the atmosphere is more relaxed, watching the spectacle around them.

The air is permeated with the smell of sea salt mixed with expensive perfumes and the sound of laughter and music all along the beach.

It is a party that clearly reflects the wealth and status of their hosts, as well as the people present; pure spoiled kids with rich parents.

"Are we going to have fun or what!?" exclaims Sam excitedly, fully entering the party and everyone follows.

Chase convinces Cregan to be worrying since most of the people here are in their own world and he doubts drunkenly checking to see if they have the latest model Iphone or what.

And honestly you relax too as everyone here is having fun and you along with Alysanne look more presentable in nice bikinis.

They are second hand still but they are more cared for than the others you have.

Sam quickly orders drinks, surprised and excited to have gotten a bottle of champagne, then Cregan and the others take him and you and Alysanne to a more secluded spot.

You make a space for yourselves on the sand, a bit secluded from everyone, having the view of the huge luxurious houses, the cliffs in the distance and also the illuminated yachts on the dock behind you.

Pretty soon you have your beer and start enjoying yourselves just like everyone else, not worrying too much and just pretending you are one of them all.

Mingling with the rich at Sunset's pier is one thing, since the pier is the center of the entire beach and there are no prejudices there, but now pretending to be one is completely different.

You find yourself watching everyone around you when Alysanne nudges you slightly and points her gaze to a specific spot.

"Look at that."

You follow her gaze and see a group of girls.

"That bracelet is from Pandora, I saw it on Instagram."

From here you can see how their gold and silver necklaces and bracelets sparkle. Also the bikinis they have on are beautiful, certainly brand name. There is also a girl with a Guess bag and they all have the latest Iphone model in their hand.

And you turn to Alysanne with a shrug.

"Why are we judging when it should be the other way around?"

"We're not judging, we're just noticing the differences between girls like them and girls like us."

You both let out a laugh.

"You definitely want that Pandora bracelet, don't you?" you look at her amused.

"And you don't?"

The two of you continue to observe or rather admire all those rich girls who have fancy accessories when suddenly you hear a specific boast behind you.

You turn your head and see the dock, noticing how some impeccably dressed people are boarding one of the larger yachts docked near the shore.

And there they are.

You think as you make out those distinctive black, red and silver hair.

Of course they couldn't miss a party like this, the sons of the most influential families in the city, the Lannister's, Baratheon's and Targaryen's, practically the elite of Sunset's.

You've seen Cerelle, Tyshara and Loreon Lannister before on the Sunset's Pair, their red hair gives away who they are instantly. They always brag about their luxurious yachts, cars, jewelry stores and everything else they own.

Their father, Jason Lannister, has built an empire based on shipbuilding and port development.

From what you understand, his company designs and manufactures some of the most advanced and exclusive ships for the world's elite.

In addition to this, Lannister also owns a network of ports and shipyards on several coasts, allowing him to maintain a steady flow of wealth through port fees and contracts with global corporations.

This influence has given him a prominent place among the city's powerful and his family has inherited not only his fortune, but also his imposing and domineering character.

So it is no surprise that the Lannister's are typical spoiled children with clearly very wealthy parents, as are the others, especially the Baratheon's, Cassandra, Maris and Floris.

Known as much for their tanned skin and peculiar dark hair as for their arrogant attitude, they always seek to be the center of attention at any such social event.

Cassandra, the eldest, has a dominant bearing and never misses an opportunity to show off her status. She is also the best known of the daughters to go out every now and then with a boy from an important family either from the city or abroad.

Next, there is Maris, the quietest of the three and the most reserved, but still, as you have heard, just as spoiled and boastful as her older sister.

And finally, Floris, Cerelle's best friend and supposedly the most arrogant, capricious, shallow and boastful of the three.

She is the one who seems the sweetest at first glance, but her spoiled nature soon becomes evident when something doesn't go her way.

You also know that there are two other children, a daughter and a son, Ellyn and Royce, but apparently Ellyn prefers to stay at home and Royce does not live here.

Her father, Borros Baratheon, is a most important and influential shipping magnate and merchant in the region, known for his connections with outside businessmen.

He owns one of the largest commercial fleets operating along the entire Pacific coast. You don't know exactly what it's about but the guys have talked about how his company specializes in logistics and shipping goods across the ocean or something like that.

And finally, the sons of the most powerful family in the entire city and the entire country, the Targaryen's.

Viserys Targaryen is known as the most powerful man in the entire country and by extension his entire family as well. He owns one of the largest and most influential corporations in the region.

Your uncle Ben always had a kind of admiration for him, though your aunt always expressed her dislike of him, as well as the other families, for simply being other greedy money-rotters who drive up the costs of the city for all that they invest to elevate their status and leave you poor people increasingly difficult to make a living.

You honestly couldn't agree with her more, but the Targaryen's have been forging their main empire here in Sunset's for a very long time now and there is nothing that can really be done about it.

The Targaryen business empire focuses on multiple sectors, but they are best known for owning a very prestigious bank, where they serve wealthy elites and large corporations, as well as financing large scale projects, such as real estate developments, technology or even public infrastructure.

You understand that he has built and manages shopping malls, corporate skyscrapers and exclusive developments in major cities across the country, as well as high profile tourist destinations like Sunset's.

So basically all of them and him especially have total control over the financial resources of the region, as well as infrastructure and development in the most luxurious sectors.

Although Viserys and his wife Alicent are no longer seen as much at events this side of Crown's and on the pier, their influence still shapes everything that happens here.

"Hey."

Sam snaps you out of your thoughts when you feel him tap you on the shoulder and you turn your head towards him, confused and attentive.

"Hm?"

"What are you looking at?" he asks you amused, sitting down next to you and offering you a new bottle of beer.

"Oh, no, nothing, just..." you shake your head, taking the beer and not paying attention to the son's and daughter's of rich parents.

But Sam had followed your gaze before.

"I know, they're beautiful, aren't they?"

You immediately watch him intently.

"Who?"

"The yachts," he tells you as if it's obvious, "Imagine spending a whole weekend on one, just doing this..." he points to the beer and all the partying, "In the middle of the ocean."

You let out a small laugh.

"That's your biggest dream, isn't it?"

"And for the yacht to be mine, obviously," he says excitedly, turning his gaze back to the dock where they all are, "If I used to see them from afar and feel envious, now it's torture to have them so close."

You look to where he sees and he has a very good point. They could live perfectly well on one of those yachts and there would be no problem, which is also one of your dreams.

"Oh, come on Sam," you give him a friendly smack, looking at him again and you notice the gleam of longing in his eyes, "Surely your charm can make a girl from Crown's fall in love with you and let you enjoy the amazing yachts."

He looks at you incredulously.

"A Crown's girl with someone like me? Are you kidding?"

"It's not impossible," you shrug.

"Oh yeah, here at Sunset's everything is impossible if you don't live on this side of town."

And that's another good point and very true.

Daniel joins you and Sam's little group and you stop paying attention the moment you turn your gaze back towards the yachts and them specifically.

This time you focus on the Targaryen's, Helaena, Aegon and Aemond.

Surprisingly, despite being in the top tier of the wealthiest and most powerful family in the entire city and country, compared to the Lannister's, Baratheon's, Tyrell's, Arryn's, Stark's and Greyjoy's, they are not so smug, superficial and arrogant.

Although, come to think of it, the only exception is Aegon.

The eldest of the brothers, he is characteristic of his carefree and arrogant attitude. His life is summed up in parties, girls and excesses. Everyone knows him, he is the soul of the party and drives all the girls crazy.

For him, life is a game where he always wins. Sometimes he seems like the typical privileged son who has never had to strive for anything, but his power lies precisely in that.

Then there is Helaena, the only sister among the Targaryens who has a pleasant and gentle presence.

Although she is rich, the richest of them all and extremely beautiful, she doesn't abuse it, she doesn't show it off, she's not shallow or arrogant, besides she's always looking out for her siblings.

She is the kind of person who doesn't need to shout to be noticed and with just a quiet smile, she earns the respect and admiration of those around her.

You know a little about her as Chase has a little now not so secret crush on her and honestly you don't blame him, she is absolutely beautiful and even kind, which is rare due to her provenance.

And finally there's Aemond, who of all them, he's always been... different.

Where Aegon is shameless and carefree, Aemond is calculating and serious. Always impeccably dressed, with an expression that doesn't say much and keeps him at a safe distance from most.

From what you've heard, he's extremely intelligent, he's also reserved and quiet, the complete opposite of Aegon.

There is also a rumor about him about his left eye, something about an accident as a child and where he apparently wears a prosthetic.

You don't really know much about it or him but he's always been intriguing and mysterious, in a way.

You focus on him specifically, watching him from a distance, curious, as he takes a seat on the deck with an expression you can't read as it doesn't tell you much.

You watch as his short silver hair moves slightly in the wind and breeze, as well as he watches everything around him intently, to again focus on his siblings and Floris.

Floris is his girlfriend, apparently they have been dating for a few months now and have given a lot to talk about since no one expected Aemond to even date anyone.

But there they are.

You watch as Floris approaches him and takes a seat on his lap, looking radiant in a tight dress and a huge smile on her face, but he, on the other hand, remains expressionless.

Floris murmurs something in his ear, to which he responds with a slight smile, but averts his gaze to the horizon. However, she gently takes him by the jaw and leaves a soft kiss on his lips.

They begin to kiss and you look away, trying to refocus on the party and enjoying yourself here with your friends.

However, being here with all these wealthy people, especially the Targaryen's, you can't help but feel that divide about the rich and the poor at Sunset's.

You feel like you live in two different worlds, where they, the rich, live a life completely oblivious to the concerns of the people on the other side of town, in Crown's.

While you and the others work in the restaurants, clean their yachts, boats, houses and make sure their lives are comfortable.

They float above it all, the Targaryen's, Lannister's, Stark's, Baratheon's and so on, attending parties and making decisions that only benefit their own.

But you, the poor, the ones who live in Black Waters have nothing, you don't have the money, the influence or the power. Even the name of your side of town is a mockery to them, the rich, in despising even more the poor who don't have what they have.

But that's the life in Sunset's Bay.

[nottyoursbutmine]

cruel summer | t.n

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff soulmate reader

the one where nott and Y/N never wanted a soulmate. so why can’t they stop thinking about each other after they agree to never talk about it again?

this is my first writing and you can totally tell. it’s super long for no reason so pls be nice. it has 3 OC in hufflepuff. totally wrote this overnight so I rushed the ending can you tell?

cruel summer - taylor swift

—

You’re listening to your best friend, Sophia, as you’re walking towards the Great Hall. For the past two weeks she has been ranting about the same thing, Blaise Zabini, her soulmate.

As she’s going on about the colors of trees, our uniforms, and flowers you can’t help but space off. They met while being paired up during Potions and spoke their first soulmate words to each other. She has always wanted to meet her soulmate and ever since then, she’s been happier than ever.

You have never wanted to meet your soulmate. The thought of being trapped down and having children will not be your future.

“Are you even listening to me?” Sophia asks.

“Oh, um…of course I was, Blaise is perfect, the sky is magical?” You say with uncertainty. You’re arriving at the Great Hall and approach your table to sit down.

She gives you a look and says, “No, you know exactly what I was saying…please Y/N!”

“Can I just ask why is this so important to you? I mean, it’s not as if we would have anything in common. Slytherin do not make friends with Hufflepuffs,” you say with a straight face. Compared to her always happy demeanor, you were the type of girl who looked at the glass half empty. Not to say you weren’t kind to everyone you met, but you were a realist.

“I have been trying to introduce you to Blaises’ friends since we met… please?” As she sits across from you at the table, she gives you her biggest smile, one that you can never say no to.

As you pick at your food, you finally give in. “Okay, fine but we have to invite the rest of the girls.”

She squeals, leans over the table and gives you a hug. You’ve never been one for physical contact but you’ve been friends with Sophia since diapers, so you do your best and pat her back.

-

You’re sitting on your bed with your curtains drawn staring at the words on your wrist, thinking about the power they hold. Your entire future is determined by your first words with a stranger. The words were harsh, feeding into your whole ‘wanting to be alone,’ thing. You wonder what their words say.

Seeing colors is something you have also always wondered about. What are the colors of your eyes and hair? What is the color green and why does it make nature look so beautiful? What about flowers? And the color of your clothes?

However, does spending forever with someone you didn’t get to choose sound worth it? You have heard stories of colors fading for people who have lost their soulmate or chosen to be alone, you wonder if that’s true.

You hear the door burst open and Sophia say, “Okay, get ready everyone! We’re going to the Slytherin common room.”

You pull your curtains back, then look at Violet and Ariana, Violet lets out a small laugh from her bed and says “What?”

“Yup! We are meeting Blaise, Riddle, Nott, Berkshire, and Malfoy in 1 hour,” Sophia says, “so you all better start getting ready.”

You all get up with a groan as you get up and all go into the bathroom to get ready. You decide to put on a warm sweatshirt/sweats set because it’s cold out and blowout your hair. You exit the bathroom and all make your way out of the Hufflepuff house.

Walking to the Slytherin common room seemed faster than it should have been. Sophia talked most of the way, assuring us that this will be fun. She always seemed to be the positive one in our group. She states that the guys are nicer in person and only look scary from afar or something like that.

As you get closer you see Zabini waiting outside. Sophia walked towards Blaise, greeting him with a kiss. “Blaise, these are my friends, Violet, Ariana and Y/N.”

He shakes Violet’s and Ariana’s hand, trying to make a good first impression on his soulmates friends and as he extends his hand towards you and Sophia stops him, “Y/N doesn’t touch.”

You feel your heart get warm, you didn’t know how you were going to get out of that awkward situation. She knows you so well, you just give her a small smile as a thank you.

He just chuckles and says, “Exactly like someone else I know. Okay, c’mon the guys are inside.” As you walk in you can’t help but look around, even though you can’t see colors, the Slytherin common room has always been famously talked about and you wanted to know what the fuss was about.

You see Berkshire sitting on an armchair, reading a book. Malfoy is sitting on the floor with his back to the couch and he’s doing homework on the table. Riddle laying on a couch and Nott laying on the couch across from him talking you think about Herbology.

“Girls, these are the guys, right there is Malfoy. Right there is Riddle, over there is Nott, and there is Berkshire.” Zabini says pointing over at them without looking, without caring. It made you internally laugh.

Your eyes glaze over the boys and you just give them a smile. The girls give the boys their biggest smile and say hello, Ariana even goes as far as to give her famous flirtatious hugs. Not that you are judging, these guys are attractive.

Nott and Riddle sit down on the couches to make room for you girls. You sit next at the end of the couch to the left of Violet, who’s in the middle sitting next to Riddle. Ariana is sitting across from you, to the right of Sophia. Sophia is sitting next to Zabini, who’s finally sitting next to Nott at the very left. Berkshire is hadn’t moved from his place in the arm chair and Malfoy had collected his homework, but was still sitting on the floor.

The usual topics come by, grades, hate for the teachers, holidays, and the usual family drama. “Okay let’s get real, has everyone here met their soulmate?” Ariana asks.

Berkshire begins to rant about his soulmate, one that everyone knew he had. It was nice to hear him say those sweet words about her.

Malfoy rolls his eyes and says, “Doesn’t everyone already know the answer to this question? It’s not as if this school doesn’t spread the word as soon as it happens.”

Riddle laughs looking over at him, “You’re just upset because Granger is mad at you right now.”

“I don’t know why you don’t go apologize to her like I’ve been saying, staying here isn’t going to help her forgive you,” Berkshire says.

“He’s right, you need to man up and go to her dorm,” Nott speaks up, “if you don’t she’ll be pissed forever man.”

Malfoy looks like he wants to kill all his friends as he gets up and storms out of the common room, assumingely on his way to the Gryffindor house.

Malfoy, Berkshire, and Zabini are the only ones in the group who have found their soulmates, leaving Riddle and Nott to find theirs.

As everyone but Nott and you answer the question, the tension shifts. “So Y/L/N, have you found your soulmate?” Riddle asks, a hint of suggestiveness in his voice.

All eyes fall on you, “Um...No, I haven’t, but I don’t want to either, so…” you say trailing off.

“You don’t want to? Sounds familiar. Can we ask why you don’t want to?” He pries while glancing to the side, at something or someone. You’re not sure if you imagine it but everyone leans in closer, except for Nott of course, who’s sitting against the couch, eyes not leaving you.

“Well, let’s just say, I’m not going to let some words, colors, and a stranger determine a future I have already envisioned for myself, one that does not have a soulmate,” you have the straightest face and you’re not sure if it’s just your natural face or if you’re just annoyed by all these questions.

The boys sit in silence as they all give each other looks to your answer, however Nott is just staring at you and for some reason you’re afraid to look his way.

It seems like the night has ended with what you said and you decide you need to leave to room immediately. “Okay well, if that’s all I’m going now…I have to go to the library to finish my homework.”

Violet and Ariana follow you out, Sophia stays behind to spend more time with Zabini. As you’re walking you feel eyes burning into the back of your head.

-

Heading back to your common room from the library alone before curfew was a usual trip for you. The dark, empty corridor never scared you, it actually brought you peace. Ariana was the only one who preferred to study with you, but today she wanted to rest.

Fever dream high in the quiet of the night

While turning a corner you trip over something you don’t see, hands wrap around torso preventing you from falling. You drop your books and loose papers on the ground. You immediately push yourself away from the person holding you up.

It’s so dark out, you can’t see the tall figure, however, as you bend over to pick up everything you dropped, his shoes look expensive.

And so you do what you do best, apologize,“Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Than-”

You feel the person slightly freeze but not enough for you to process it, “My god, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Now it’s your turn to freeze. You’re afraid to look up, you’re afraid to even move. All of a sudden everything is different, you understand what Sophia means when she says the lights are yellow and actually do light up the night. You look at your clothes and see your yellow set. Everything yellow.

You’re not even sure why but you thought you had more time to find them. You’ve collected all your things and you’re still there staring at the ground. How are you supposed to tell this guy you’re not interested?

As you stand up, you stare into the eyes of Theodore Nott and you’re not sure what you feel. His eyes are so brown, his hair is so brown and he looks so attractive in his Slytherin uniform.

You’re both just standing staring at each other and you’re not sure what to say to him. Should you rip the bandaid off?

“Okay so, I don’t want you and you don’t want me, right? Let’s just pretend this never happened,” he has the straightest face ever.

You’re grateful he said it first so you didn’t have to but you’re not sure why you’re heart skipped a beat, almost like his words hurt you. “Okay.”

You’re not sure what else to say and you’re also not sure why your heart is now beating so hard in your chest. The colors don’t even matter anymore, what only matters to you now is that he’s in front of you and that he was just in front of you a few hours earlier, yet you never spoke one word to each other.

You thought the conversation was over, you thought he would walk away. He clears his throat, “Okay well then, let’s shake on it,” he says as he extends his hand out to you without looking away from your eyes.

You look at his hand and in a beat place your hand in his, slowly shaking it. “So we agree to not tell anyone,” looking back in his eyes. Your heart starts beating faster and your mind starts racing. You pull your hand back and say, “Goodbye then,” you walk away and don’t look back.

-

Ariana wakes you up the next morning, saying something about almost being late for breakfast.

As you get up, enter the bathroom to get ready and put your uniform on, you curl your hair and put it in a ponytail with side pieces out.

As you exit the bathroom you see Sophia sitting on her bed. “What do you all say about sitting with Blaise and the boys for breakfast this morning?” she says with a grin.

Ariana claps her hands together, jumping up and down, “That would be so fun. Last night was so fun!” Throughout the night she became good friends with the boys by gossiping about the teachers and student drama in the school.

Violet gives Sophia a small smile, “I think that would be nice.”

All eyes turn to me, I roll eyes in sarcasm, “Okay, let’s just go or all the blueberry muffins will be gone and you know how I feel about that.”

-

You follow Sophia to the Slytherin table and as the boys see you all approach, you see Zabini say something to them, making them scoot over. Sophia casually sits next to Zabini at the end of the table. You sit down first, scooting over for Ariana and Violet. Riddle is to your right, Nott directly across from you, and Violet to your left.

You immediately begin looking around for a blueberry muffin but don’t see one, the only one you see is on Notts plate. So you go for the second best option, banana bread.

“Aw we were too late? I’m sorry hun. Tomorrow will be better,” Sophia says with her positive attitude. You give her a smile and try to not continue the conversation.

“Late for what?” Riddle asks with a mouth full of food.

“Nothi-”

“Y/N loves her blueberry muffin for breakfast,” Violet says as if it’s the biggest secret in the school. You shrug because it’s true, there’s nothing better to start your day off with.

“Here then.” Nott holds out his plate offering you his muffin. The guys give him a look as if he just told them he’s joining the circus.

“No, it’s yours,” you say, giving him the exact same look.

He pushes the plate closer to you, “Take the damn muffin if you’re going to be complaining about it.”

The energy has completely changed, “Woah man, what the hell?” Berkshire says, sitting to Notts left.

Your eyes narrow at him, push the plate away and in your calmest voice say, “I didn’t complain about any damn thing, you’re getting hysterical Nott. Why don’t you calm down?”

And with that, he storms out of the Great Hall leaving his friends to question exactly what happened.

You’re left staring at where he was sitting, hurt in your chest but you both made this decision. And if you bleed he’ll be the last to know.

-

It’s been two weeks since you have found Nott, two weeks since you’ve been trying your best to avoid him, and two weeks since you’ve been failing at it.

You’re sitting in the library with Cedric working on your project. You’ve been working for hours and for hours Nott and Berkshire have been sitting in your line of view doing ‘homework.’ You turn back to Cedric, this grade is more important than some boy.

For some reason, Nott can’t look away from you. His mind is going crazy knowing you’re avoiding him. He’s the one who made this decision, why can’t he get you off his mind?

He thinks about the first words you spoke to each other and regrets being so harsh towards you, he wonders if you hate him for that. He wonders if the words on your skin have taunted you forever and if that’s truly why you don’t want a soulmate.

Colors haven’t faded for him, probably because he keeps following you, trying to be close to you. The color of your hair and eyes, your after school outfits. Your smile and the way you tilt your head back when you laugh. He cannot look away from you.

Berkshire realizes Nott isn’t paying attention to him at all, turning around to see what he’s staring at. “Merlin, is she your soulmate or something?”

Notts heart skips a beat, “What are you talking about? O-Of course she’s not,” trying his best to play it off.

Berkshire gives Nott a look, “You constantly follow her around, you threatened Cedric to not make a move even though he has a soulmate, you always save a blueberry muffin at breakfast in case she sits with us, you always-”

“Are you a detective or something?” Nott says narrowing his eyes.

“Listen, I just think that, if you have something to say…you should say it before it’s too late. I should go, I’m meeting Olivia but…think about it,” he says as he gets up leaving to meet his soulmate, a glint in his eyes.

“Wait,” Nott stops Berkshire, “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I promise.”

As he sits there waiting for you to finish with Cedric, the words Berkshire said can’t leave his mind. Cedric’s soulmate walks up to the table with a smile greeting Y/N, his arrival makes Cedric get up and says goodbye to you.

Nott takes this opportunity to walk up to your table and simply sit down across from you, taking Cedric’s former seat. You simply stare at him, not knowing what to say. His eyes are so brown, his hair looks so soft, and his sweater looks so warm you just want to reach over and feel every part of him.

You’re both staring at each other in silence, both afraid to make the first move, your heart is beating so fast and you can’t think of a single thing to say to him.

He takes a deep breath, looks in your eyes and says, “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me right now but I can’t stop thinking about you and colors are brighter when you’re in the room, I need to see your smile and hear your laugh everyday or else I- I can’t think about anything else and you seem so okay but I-”

To say you’re in shock is an understatement, you’re afraid to open your mouth unsure of what will come out. You reach over the table and hold his hand in an attempt to calm him down, “I’m not okay,” you say looking down at your hands as he starts drawing circles, “I think about you all the time, it’s exhausting.”

“I never thought finding my soulmate would feel like this, I never thought choosing my own path would be the wrong option.” You give him your biggest smile and he stares at you with a glint in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “So, how should we go on about this? Do we tell everyone now?”

You let out a nervous chuckle, “How about we start to get to know each other first?”

“I already know everything about you. You love blueberry muffins, cats, you don’t have a favorite flower because they’re too hard to choose from, you don’t drink your drink until after you finish eating, you hate people who chew with their mouth open, you-”

“Okay! Wow, you really do know me. Have you been purposefully following me?” You say in a teasing tone, your heart warming at the fact that your soulmate knows you, the real you.

You see his cheeks heat up and his head lower, “What? No! Uh-no, I-”

“Nott,” you say pulling your hands back from his, giving him a small smile, “I’m just joking around.”

He grabs your hands back pulling them into his, the warmth of his hands helping with the cold of the library. “It’s Theo.”

Your cheeks warm up, “It’s Y/N.”

-

It’s been a week since the conversation in the library and having a soulmate was better than you have ever heard. Theo and you haven’t gone further than holding hands in secret and sharing pecks on the cheeks and the corner of each other’s mouth. It has been excruciating holding back from kissing him, but you want him to make the first move.

For the past week, you woke up early in the morning to meet with Theo before breakfast. You told your friends you went to the library to get some extra study hours in. For some reason, they never questioned you and you never questioned that.

They don’t know you meet Theo in either The Room of Requirement or an empty classroom and just talk about anything and everything. Before it was blueberry muffins and now this is the best way to start your days.

This morning you’re laying on the couch in the Room of Requirement with him on top of you as you play with his hair in silence. “Can I admit something to you?”

“Of course you can,” you say furrowing your brows.

He looks up, grinning like a devil, causing you to stop playing with his hair. “I tripped you. When we met, I saw you walking, I saw you in your mind and for some reason I just wanted to…touch you. Which I knew I needed to do because I’ve never felt that way. I’ve never wanted to feel someone’s skin against mine. I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you.” His voice getting deeper as he talks and your heart beating faster as the air grows thick with something you’re unfamiliar with.

You can’t look away and your skin is burning. Was it always so hot in here? You don’t know what to say. His eyes are so brown, the brown you love. You only have one thing to say, “Kiss me.”

He doesn’t hesitate, holding himself up with his right hand so you’re laying underneath him. He grabs your jaw with his left hand and immediately places his lips on yours. The kiss starts off gently, with you running your fingers through his hair, as you pull on it he immediately begins deepening the kiss, his left hand now cupping the back of your head pulling on your hair.

-

Typically when walking towards the Great Hall with Theo, you both arrive before anyone and walk to your separate tables, waiting for your friends without suspicion. However this time, with everything that happened, you two were a little late.

You both arrive at the Great Hall and see your friends sitting together, giving you both looks as if they’ve been expecting you. Now your mind is racing with probabilities. Is your shirt ruffled? Is your hair out of place? Are Theo’s buttons unbuttoned? Is Theo’s hair ruffled?

Theo and you sit down seats away from each other as casual as you can as if that would be less suspicious. You serve yourself breakfast, ignoring the silence and obvious topic you’re trying to avoid.

Riddle scoffs, “Okay, I’m tired of this, when are you two going to tell us?” He says looking only at Theo.

“What are you talking about?” Theo says, furrowing his brows feigning confusion.

Ariana speaks up, “Y/N, we really thought you would tell us if anything happened.”

“I understand why you wouldn’t but finding your soulmate is something massive that you needed time to process-”

You cut Sophia off, “Soulmate? So you all know then.”

“We know.” They all say in unison.

“Wait, how? Besides Berkshire who promised not to tell…” Theo said.

“Wait Berkshire figured it out?” You ask.

Berkshire nods his head as he says, “Oh c’mon it was so obvious. He was stalking her, obsessed with blueberry muffins, his mood would change when she was around, he switched seats to be near her, guys around her would suddenly not be-”

Theo narrows his eyes, “Okay, you could’ve stopped a long time ago. We get it.”

You look at your friends, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys, it was all just complicated.”

They all look at each other and Violet smiles, “We get it Y/N, we all noticed you’ve been happier too.”

Ariana adds in a teasing tone, “Plus you two weren’t that secretive walking back to the dorms before curfew. I must say though, you actually looked cute, his arm around your shoulder.”

Your cheeks warm up, the fact that they know and it’s now official, setting in.

You turn to Theo, finding him already staring at you. You immediately give him a smile and look into his eyes, his eyes are so brown, the brown you love. He smiles back and-

“Yuck! You two are disgusting, I’m trying to eat my breakfast here,” Malfoy says.

“Alright Theo, let go,” you say getting up from the table ready to get away, “we’ll see you guys later.”

“Theo?” All the boys say in unison.

Theo intertwines your fingers together, glad he doesn’t have to hide you two anymore. “Just keep walking,” he says. However as he leads you out of the Great Hall you don’t miss the teasing “Aw’s” coming from your friends.

He leads you out of the Great Hall, into an empty classroom. He closes the door after you enter and presses you up against the door. He holds your face in his hand, “Please tell me they didn’t scare you off.”

You tilt your head back while laughing, “Of course not.” You peck his lips and pull back too fast for his liking.

“Good because, for whatever it’s worth…I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?” He says looking down at you with a shy smile.

You wrap your arms around his neck, shaking your head, “I love you,” pulling him down so your lips could meet.

You pull back and stare into his eyes, his brown eyes, the brown you love so much.

—

send any requests you would like thank you

I totally edited this after I posted

I know theo doesn’t have brown eyes btw it’s more of a reader(me) thing thanks

[sabrinasopposite]

cruelest summer ☀️

charlie baker x reader (enemies to lover)

summary of the cruelest summer;

☀️ the baker boys were forced to go to summer camp. charlie knew this tradition would continue, but he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to go. he would have much preferred to stay in midland and and try to work things out with beth. yet tom insisted.

as soon as the baker boys arrived at the summer camp, chaos ensued. it was typical for the bakers' arrival, and charlie had to get things under control — though it was hard to focus with his old childhood crush working at the camp as a counselor. ☀️

"No—end of discussion," Tom said as he walked down the stairs of the big house where the Bakers were currently living. The family had slowly adjusted to their new surroundings in Chicago. It had been difficult for each of the Bakers, but somehow, they made it work. 

Yet for Charlie, it was still hard being so far from Beth. They hadn’t broken up—not yet. 

That’s what Charlie hoped, though Beth seemed to see things differently. It was difficult for both of them, not being able to see each other and share kisses on the lips and cheeks. Now they had to wait until every second weekend just to be together. For Beth, it was tough, but Charlie tried at every opportunity to be in Midland. He loved her dearly, but maybe that wasn’t enough.

“But Dad, I wanted to visit Beth. It doesn’t make sense to go to this stupid camp every year,” Charlie protested as he followed Tom.

“Charlie, I know you’re upset about it, but it’s a tradition. Your grandpa always took me to that camp every summer, and I loved it.”

“You stopped going to that camp when you were 15. I’m 17, and it doesn’t make any sense,” Charlie scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Charlie, it’s not going to change my mind. Now go pack your stuff.” Tom entered the kitchen—or more accurately, the chaos.

“But why are Nigel and Kyle staying home?” Charlie wasn’t about to let that slide. He searched for any excuse not to go to the camp, but it seemed like he was constantly losing the battle.

“Your mother and I thought they’d go next year. They’re still too young for it.” Tom shrugged as he cleaned the mess on the kitchen counters.

“That’s okay? But I have to go? Come on, Dad—”

“Charlie.” Tom’s voice raised a little more than usual, and that’s when Charlie knew there was no changing his mind. Furious, Charlie shook his head and headed to his bedroom to pack.

If it were just one week, Charlie could have dealt with it. But three weeks? That was off-limits. It wasn’t that he hated summer camp—it was fun. When he thought back to previous summers, he remembered being one of the most mischievous kids there. He pulled pranks on the counselors, snuck out to the lake, played truth or dare with the girls, and made out in the tents until a counselor threw water inside. Most importantly, though, he always teased a girl who made his heart race—Y/N Y/L/N.

Y/N and Charlie were the definition of chaos. People said the Bakers were the perfect example of it, but they hadn’t seen Y/N and Charlie together.

Sometimes, Charlie teased Y/N so much that she once stuck a gooey marshmallow in his hair.

Another time, Charlie pushed Y/N into a bush full of bugs.

Then there was the night Y/N snuck into his cabin in the middle of the night and put makeup on his sleeping face.

Or the time when he was dared to kiss Y/N in the tent while she had her eyes closed.

Ever since that summer before high school, they hadn’t seen each other. For some reason, Y/N never returned to camp, and Charlie still thought about that kiss. Maybe it was the reason she never came back.

But she didn’t know it was Charlie—that’s what he told himself.

Henry knocked on Charlie's door and peeked his head inside. "Did you convince Dad?"

"Does it look like it? If I had, I'd already be gone—maybe even throwing a big party," Charlie chuckled, though disappointment tinged his voice.

"Man….I was hoping he’d change his mind this year. I mean, even I get bored," Henry sighed.

"I'm sorry, H, but let’s make the best of it." Charlie walked over and ruffled Henry’s hair affectionately.

☀️

The next day was pure chaos. Everyone was running around the house while Tom packed up all the boys' belongings.

"Jake, you can't take your skateboard with you. You know that," Tom said.

"It's me with the skateboard or nothing," Jake replied, raising both hands in protest. Tom sighed and placed the skateboard in the car.

Charlie adjusted his cap and took one last look at his message to Beth, who still hadn’t replied. She was upset that Charlie couldn’t make it to Midland, and she had every right to be. But at the very least, she could have texted "I love you" back.

Kate walked over to Charlie and patted him on the back. "Are you alright, Charlie?"

"Do I look alright?" he snapped, then sighed. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"I understand you're grumpy about it, but believe me, it’ll be fun! Maybe this time you can join the counselor group instead of pulling pranks on them," Kate suggested, looking at her son, who managed a small smile.

"Don’t worry, Jake has studied my pranks—I’m sure they’ll be fine."

"Please, do me a favor and keep them under control," Kate said, giving Charlie a concerned look. "...I promise."

"Okay, now let’s get to the car. We need to say goodbye to you guys!" Kate smiled. 

The ride to camp wasn’t very long. Tom kept talking about his funny moments at camp to try and keep the boys excited, but they all wore the same uninterested expression—except for Mark, who was thrilled. He loved nature, especially the animals, and he was excited to reunite with his old friends who joined the summer camp every year. The thought of group activities in nature filled him with joy.

Charlie stared out the window, watching as the scenery blurred past. Everything looked the same. He had hoped there might be something different this time, but it was all exactly as he remembered—the same trees, the same signs, the same winding road to the camp.

By the time they arrived, it was 3 p.m. Tom had been chatting the whole time with Derek, the camp’s owner. They had met at the camp when they were younger, and now Derek was running the place.

The boys grabbed their bags from the car. The camp buzzed with energy as kids and counselors moved around, unloading luggage and searching for their assigned cabins. Mark eagerly rushed ahead, already spotting some of his friends. Jake and Henry dragged their bags behind them, looking less enthusiastic but still chatting about what they might do first.

Charlie, however, moved slowly, his bag slung over his shoulder. He wasn’t in a rush. As the others searched for their cabin assignments, Derek approached him with a smile. "Charlie! Good to see you again," Derek said, clapping him on the back. "I’ve got something special for you this year. You’ll be in your own room—kind of a reward for being one of the older kids now. You’ll have a bit of privacy."

Charlie forced a smile and nodded. "Yeah, thanks," he mumbled. Derek seemed proud of the gesture, but Charlie didn’t share his enthusiasm. His own room sounded like more isolation, not a reward. He glanced around at the other kids already settling into their shared cabins, laughing and joking with their friends.

It didn’t feel special to him—it just felt lonely.

"Derek, is there a possibility that Charlie could maybe work here as a counselor? Maybe organizing sports?" Tom asked with enthusiasm, catching Charlie's attention. Work with kids? Sure, he could handle his siblings, but spending the summer interacting with other kids wasn’t exactly on his bucket list.

"Dad—" Charlie began, but Derek cut him off.

"That's not a bad idea. Actually, I just got a call that one of our counselors couldn’t make it—he wanted to visit his boyfriend in Texas. You know how long-distance relationships go," Derek explained casually, while Charlie shot a pissed glance at Tom.

Derek clearly understood what the camp counselors needed. Why couldn’t Tom see that this wasn’t something Charlie wanted?

"If you’re up for it, Charlie, you could take that spot. It’s not too much work, and hey, you'd get paid $20 an hour," Derek added with a grin.

Charlie’s mood shifted slightly at the mention of money. Maybe that could save the summer after all. If he saved up, he could visit Beth sooner than planned.

"Alright, fine. I’ll do it," Charlie finally agreed, his voice lacking excitement but at least sounding resigned.

Tom’s face lit up with approval. "That’s the spirit, son! You’ll do great," he said, patting Charlie on the back. "Well, I better head out. Keep an eye on your brothers, and try to have some fun, alright?"

Charlie nodded and gave a quick goodbye to his dad, watching as Tom got back in the car and drove off. As soon as the car disappeared down the dirt road, Derek turned to him with a more relaxed smile.

"Glad you’re on board, Charlie. You know, the counselors this year are much younger—most of them are around your age, so I’m sure you’ll bond with them pretty easily. They’re a fun group," Derek said.

Charlie raised an eyebrow, unsure if that would really make a difference. He wasn’t here to make friends, but at least he wouldn’t be surrounded by people way older than him. Maybe, just maybe, the summer wouldn't be a total disaster after all.

"Yeah, we’ll see," Charlie muttered, grabbing his bag.

☀️

After settling into his cabin, Charlie tossed his bag onto the bed and took a deep breath. The room was basic but comfortable enough—just a bed, a small dresser, and a window that looked out onto the campgrounds.

Once he was done unpacking, Charlie decided to head out and explore his surroundings. The camp looked just as he remembered: the lake shimmering in the distance, canoes lined up by the dock, kids already running around, and counselors setting up activities. Nothing had changed, yet somehow, it felt different now that he was one of the staff.

As he wandered through the camp, he spotted a familiar sight—an art station, complete with easels and colorful paint splatters covering the ground. He hadn’t given much thought to it until he saw someone adjusting the easels. She was facing away from him, but something about her posture and the way her hair caught the breeze felt oddly familiar.

Then it clicked.

Y/N.

Y/N Y/L/N, the girl who used to challenge him at every turn, the one who teased him just as much as he teased her. The one he hadn't seen since that infamous summer before high school, when they shared that awkward but unforgettable kiss.

He was about to call out her name when she turned around. There she was, looking even better than he remembered. She had grown up in all the right ways—confident and sharp-eyed, with a smudge of blue paint on her cheek that made her look even more vibrant.

But when her eyes locked onto Charlie’s, her expression quickly shifted from neutral to something bordering on annoyance. It was as if all the memories of their past antics came flooding back.

"Well, if it isn’t Charlie Baker," Y/N said, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. "Here I was hoping my summer would be free of your brand of chaos."

Charlie blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Y/N? You’re a counselor here? For—" He glanced at the easels. "Art?"

"Yeah. Not that you'd know anything about it," she shot back, wiping the paint off her cheek with the back of her hand. "What’s your excuse this time? Did they finally run out of people to put up with your pranks, so now you're stuck with running the sports program?"

Charlie smirked, trying to maintain his cool, though her teasing stung. "Nah, just filling in for someone. But wow, Y/N, you haven’t changed a bit. Still packing that same fiery attitude."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, though a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "And you still have that same cocky grin. Must be exhausting to keep that up all these years."

Charlie chuckled, shaking his head. "I figured you might have mellowed out by now. Guess I was wrong."

"Disappointed?" she asked, arching a brow.

"Not really," Charlie admitted, though his eyes lingered on her a moment longer than he intended. If anything, he thought she looked better than ever, but he wasn’t about to let her know that. At least, not yet.

Y/N sighed dramatically, tossing a rag onto the art table. "Well, try not to make too much trouble this summer."

Charlie grinned. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

As Y/N turned back to the art table, Charlie couldn’t resist the urge to follow her. He sauntered over, hands in his pockets, and leaned casually against the table.

“So, Y/N,” Charlie began with a playful lilt, “where have you been hiding all these years? Haven’t seen you since that unforgettable summer before high school.”

Y/N didn’t look up from her work but let a sarcastic smile creep onto her face. “Oh, you know, just off having a blast and avoiding people like you. It’s been a full-time job.”

Charlie chuckled. “Avoiding me? Surely, I’m not that memorable.”

“Yeah, well, it’s amazing how quickly people forget the endless stream of pranks and trouble you caused,” Y/N shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve been busy with school like every normal high schooler.”

As she turned to grab more supplies, Charlie noticed the array of vibrant paints on the table. An idea sparked, and he grabbed a pot of red paint. With a mischievous grin, he gave it a quick shake and, with a flick of his wrist, let a splash of red land right on her shoulder.

The children around the art table burst into laughter, their amusement evident. Y/N froze, her eyes widening as she glanced down at the paint splotch. Slowly, she turned to face Charlie, who was struggling to hold back his laughter.

“Seriously?” Y/N said, her voice a mix of irritation and exasperation. 

Charlie’s grin widened. “Just thought I’d brighten up your day a bit. You know, you’re looking even more colorful now.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re still as charming as ever. Must be exhausting trying to stay that annoying.”

“Ah, come on. You know you missed me,” Charlie said with a wink. “Can’t let you forget about me that easily.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a reluctant smile. “I wish I could.”

Charlie laughed, feeling a rush of nostalgia mixed with excitement. As Y/N grabbed a rag to clean the paint off her shoulder, Charlie’s playful grin stayed in place. Maybe this summer would be more interesting than he’d thought, especially with Y/N around to keep him on his toes.

☀️

Later that afternoon, Charlie found himself in the middle of a lively soccer game with a group of energetic boys. He was reveling in the game, showing off his skills and thoroughly enjoying himself. The boys cheered, their laughter echoing across the field as Charlie deftly maneuvered the ball.

Meanwhile, Y/N and a group of girls watched from the sidelines. They exchanged sly glances and whispered among themselves. ,,Okay girls, like we planned it out alright?” ,,why are we doing this again Y/N?” one of the girls asked Y/N with a giggle.

,,Cause we are independent women and we are better than them” ,,What does independent mean-“ ,,Be quiet Maya” Another girl snapped at Maya.

With a smirk, Y/N decided it was the perfect time for some well-deserved payback. She quickly gathered some flour and a water balloon launcher, and the girls readied their arsenal.

As Charlie focused on scoring yet another goal, Y/N signaled the girls to launch their surprise. Flour-filled balloons soared through the air and exploded over the soccer field, coating Charlie and the boys in a cloud of white powder.

“What the—?” Charlie’s shout was muffled as flour covered his face. He blinked through the haze, spotting Y/N and the girls hiding behind a tree, barely containing their laughter.

“Oh, look at that,” Y/N called out, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Charlie Baker, covered in flour. Who would’ve thought your soccer skills would include a new career as a walking pastry?”

Charlie, trying to wipe the flour from his eyes, shot her a playful glare. “Nice aim, Sweetheart. I see you’ve perfected the art of pastry warfare.”

The boys erupted into giggles, turning the prank into a full-blown flour fight. Charlie joined in, tossing flour back at the girls with a grin. “Guess you’re the reigning champion of the prank league now.”

Y/N smirked, hands on her hips as she surveyed the mess. “Just thought I’d give you a taste of your own medicine. You didn’t think I’d let you get away with that paint job, did you?”

Charlie laughed, shaking his head. “No, I guess I should’ve expected this. I’m impressed.”

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically. “Well, it’s not like you’re the only one who can dish it out. But don’t get too comfortable. I’m just getting started.”

As the flour fight reached its peak, with kids running around covered in powder and laughter filling the air, a stern voice cut through the chaos.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Counselor Mark stormed onto the field, his face a mixture of frustration and disbelief. 

Mark, known for his no-nonsense attitude, took in the scene of flour-covered kids and smirking counselors with a raised eyebrow. Charlie and Y/N, still covered in flour, stopped mid-throw and turned to face Mark. 

Charlie, his face smeared with white powder, tried to suppress a grin, while Y/N wiped a bit of flour from her cheek and put on a sheepish expression.

“Seriously, guys?” Mark said, his tone sharp. “This is not what we’re here for. I get that it’s all in good fun, but look at this mess.”

Charlie shrugged, still trying to keep his playful demeanor. “It was just a bit of fun, Mark. We were trying to keep the kids entertained.”

Mark’s gaze shifted to Y/N, who raised an eyebrow in a mix of defiance and amusement. “And I’m sure Y/N was just doing her part to make sure everyone’s summer here is memorable, right?”

Y/N folded her arms and tried to look contrite, though her eyes betrayed her amusement. “Yeah, you could say that. I guess we got a bit carried away.”

Mark sighed, his frustration not entirely masking his grudging admiration for their creativity. “Well, carried away is an understatement. Next time, let’s keep the pranks out of the organized activities and focus on making the summer fun without turning it into a disaster zone.”

Charlie nodded, trying to look apologetic. “Got it. We’ll keep it in check. Just thought we’d add a little excitement.”

Mark’s expression softened slightly as he glanced around at the kids, who were now eagerly helping clean up the flour. “Alright. But remember, the real goal here is to be role models. Let’s show these kids how to have fun without making a mess.”

“Understood,” Y/N said, giving a small, rueful smile. 

Mark nodded and turned to help with the cleanup, leaving Charlie and Y/N standing in the middle of the field, still covered in flour.

,,What a great role model you are” Charlie smirked.

,,Shut up, Baker.” Y/N shot him a glare.

☀️

☀️

☀️

helllooooo simps for tom welling! as the end of summer (its september so it means autumn season idgaf) I wanted to release this short one-shot with this hottie (:

if you are interested for a series or another part hmu ☀️

x naomi

[laracrofted]

listen up y'all, if you're looking for the series of the summer, i need you to check out cruel summer, it's fun, it's bloody, it's camp (literally), it's a rip-roaring good time!

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐱 𝐘𝐎𝐔 (𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄) 𝐱 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐖 𝟖𝟎𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔 𝐁𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐘 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓. 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟖+. 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍 𝟖𝟎𝐒 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋-𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑. 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄, 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄. 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇, 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑, 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊.

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐎𝐚𝐤𝐬, 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕. 𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞--𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 '𝟖𝟕 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞-𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐞. 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠--𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥, 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫. 𝐎𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐝 𝟖𝟎𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 —𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟗𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟕𝐓𝐇, 𝟏��𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟖𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟗𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟗𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟏𝐒𝐓, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟏𝐒𝐓, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏 & 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟏𝐒𝐓, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟐𝐍𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟐𝐍𝐃-𝟐𝟑𝐑𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟑𝐑𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟑𝐑𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟒𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟓𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 —𝐒𝐓. 𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋 —𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟏𝟓𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟖

[bizaar]

Cruel Summer Epilogue - Part Two

Masterlist - Part One - Part Two

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

warnings: sexual content (18+) minors DNI (you guys they go the fuck off idk what to tell you, gird your loins), pregnancy, mentions of sickness and vomiting, traumatic flashbacks, angst, swearing (please let me know if I missed anything, there's a lot going on here)

word count: 10k (still a beast but come on tumblr)

a/n: you guys don't look at me I am not kidding when I tell you this is NOTHING but filthy rabid smut

“Please,” you cry, “Please, please, please–”

“Good girl,”

You barely have time to register the way those words cause your walls to flutter and clench before he catches you in a tight, wet seal of heat, and goes to work with the soft warmth of that worship you’ve been waiting for. 

Your eyes slide shut, and your head drops back into the pillows. Somewhere in the distance, your mixtape has changed tracks again, and Heart is playing a heady soundtrack of commiseration as Eddie makes a meal out of you.  

Ohhh, he’s a magic man, Mama… and you can’t help but agree. 

The sweet warmth of concentrated attention fills your senses and makes your insides feel heavy — tongue, lips, gentle suction, bright burst of pleasure, rinse and repeat. 

A single direct graze, the stuttered rise and fall of your chest quivering on the beginnings of a needy whimper.

Christ, you always forget how good he is at this. You don’t know why, except that maybe the reverent finesse with which he applies the perfect combination of tongue and teeth and lips is enough to completely wipe your memory.

Eddie has always had a knack at turning that good head atop your shoulders into a useless piece of wanting, whorish meat, and part of you is certain that is never going to change. 

Your knees drift impossibly wider, allowing him the space to do all that he has to, and with every confident swipe of that lithe muscle, you feel yourself growing a little stupider in the best possible way. 

He teases your drooling center with the tip of his tongue, drawing a tight circle ‘round and ‘round and gently probing until your jaw goes slack on a moan that you swallow before it can escape. 

You set your teeth, breathe in through your nose – steal half a dozen pregnancy tests and go all the way across town to drop your jeans and pee on the stick and wait wait wait – 

“Eddie—” you whine. 

“That’s it. Keep talking, Baby…” Eddie hums, you flinch against the fanning of his breath against your slick folds, “Wanna hear that sweet voice of yours…” 

Shit — fuck, oh fuck… should you keep trying to tell him? Where did you leave off? 

Thankfully, your man is nothing if not a gentleman and is more than happy to prompt you. 

“Something good but…?”

“B-but…” You stutter, gasp, “But it's-it’s kind of –ahh, hmm– kind of … s-s-scary.” 

Your fingers drifting instinctually down to knot themselves in the tangled halo of still-damp curls set snuggly between your trembling thighs. You’d intended to use your grip to ease him back — because you’re going to need the use of your brain if you expect to get anywhere with this confession— but you suddenly don’t know which way is up and end up pulling him closer rather than edging him away. 

You rake your nails over his scalp and tense against the way he hums in encouragement, bucking your hips forward and grinding against his face in search of more more more… 

Eddie hooks his hands under your hips and pulls you closer. Closer, closer, he always needs you closer, and you’re nothing if not happy to oblige him. 

A vulgar wet smack rings out a little too loudly through the room and your stomach clenches, cheeks burning with the lewdness of it. 

For a time that seems to stretch on and on and on indefinitely, the pair of you simply exist like that, sealed together by one lewd point of slurping, sopping, writhing connection. You’ve lost complete track of yourself, where you end and Eddie begins, and suddenly there is nothing and no one but you and him and this moment of mounting ecstasy. 

If you had any functional use of your brain at that moment, you might have tried to reign yourself in a little, because you’ve suddenly become exceedingly vocal – vocal in the way your neighbors are bound to complain about later on – but what's a girl to do when her head has gone so empty?

You’re aching inside, moaning so loud that you’re practically howling with ecstasy, and you can barely hear the music, imploring you to come on home girl – you’ll be there before you know it if he keeps up like this.

“So good to me,” Eddie moans when he breaks for air, “Always so good to me – let me be good to you, huh? Let me treat you right…” 

Pussy drunk is perhaps the best way to describe the slurring, heady timbre he’s suddenly adopted, and the notion would have made you laugh if you weren’t feeling its effects too. You can barely think through the fog of impending orgasm.

You lick your lips and nod your head — yes, he’s so good, it’s so so good and you’re so close– 

“Huah fuck! Jesus Christ—!” You yelp, hips bucking up at the sudden and startling intrusion of the two thick fingers you were not prepared to receive, stretching you and crooking up to tease the coil in your belly tighter and tighter. 

“Nope, still me,” he says — Jackass — and you can feel his teeth on your pussy as he smiles.

“Fuck you” you’d meant to say, but with your wires so hopelessly crossed, you get lost along the way and forget just who the sentiment is meant for.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, head lolling back again into the pillows as it swells and becomes suddenly much too heavy to lift.

“Be patient, Sweetheart,”

Oh, he’s the worst – he’s the absolute worst.    

The rational part of your brain that wants so badly to be heard might usually suggest that a fella ought to warn a girl before he goes doing something like that, but it has gone suddenly very quiet under the muffled howling of your animal brain when Eddie turns his attention to that swollen bundle of nerves, so woefully unattended to.

You curl your hands into fists in his hair and you pull. Harder than you’d meant to, but there are no small measures when he’s sucking and fucking you like a drowning man fighting for air.   

A particularly sharp burst of pleasure has you yanking hard enough on his hair to jerk him up ever so slightly, and Eddie makes a noise that nearly sends you over the edge. It’s the kind of noise that is going to haunt you later in the most inopportune moment, and he grips your thigh so tightly, you know it’s going to bruise. 

You don’t care. That useless slab of meat occupying space in your skull is more concerned with canting your hips forward and back in a stuttering rhythm, trying so desperately to match time with Eddie’s fingers, all while he’s still got your clit trapped in the tight seal of his lips — sucking, sucking, fucking hell, you’re so close.

Tragically, before you can let him in on that secret, he releases you with an unbearably loud slurp that sends a chill rocketing up your spine. A man’s got to breathe, sure, but you still whine out your disappointment in the sudden absence of that sinful mouth. 

Eddie leans heavily against the trembling flesh of your inner thigh as he fills his lungs. He rubs his face against you to wipe away the slickness coating his lips and chin before evidently changing his mind about that, and lapping it back up with gentle kitten licks. Each shy swipe of his tongue brings with it a hungry sound of ecstasy, rumbling up from his chest.

You shudder and clench almost painfully around his probing fingers, and you can feel him smiling against you again — God, he’s the worst — working you in the way he knows best and getting off to it. 

You can’t see him doing it, but you can feel the bed moving independently of you, and the haggard uneven cadence of his breath fanning your folds and drying the sweat in the crook of your thigh tacky. You can hear him tugging on his cock, using your slick to ease the friction, and it’s entirely too much. 

The sound is already halfway out of your mouth before you realize you’re even making it. You’d only meant to try and breathe out, but the raunchy schlick schlick schlick of skin on skin as he fucks his fist forces a strange, guttural sound out of you. One that Eddie quickly mimics.

“Yeah?” He pants, “Getting close, Sweetness?”

Close is a gross understatement – you’re right fucking there.

He curls the fingers inside of you in a come hither motion, pressing firmly into that coveted spot on your inner wall – the one you can never reach on your own – and your body lights up like a live wire. 

You pull your lower lip tight between your teeth but quickly release it as you cry out, nodding emphatically as tears suddenly prick at your lashes.

“So close,” you mewl, “God — I’m so close—“

“Don’t cry, Baby,” he says, slipping his fingers from the quivering, clenching walls of your pussy and reaching up to stroke your cheek fondly – wetly – the unabashed raunchiness of the gesture has you clenching tragically on nothing, gasping — sobbing. “Don’t worry – Daddy’s coming…” 

Ugh, God… 

He’s lucky you’re so hot for him because it just about kills the mood entirely. 

“You’re the fucking worst–” you moan, and he cackles villainously in a way that sends an electric shock right down to the base of your spine.

Eddie wipes his hand crudely on the mattress beside you, then inexplicably, he untangles himself from your legs and retreats. 

What the fuck?

In the moments it has been since he stopped finger fucking you, the coil in your belly that had been so tight, so close to snapping only moments before, begins to lose tension.

You shift up to look at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes and are devastatingly confused to find him just sitting there, sphinxlike, and watching you with immeasurable patience.  

He’s not even touching himself anymore, he’s just got that shitty little mischievous smirk on his face, and you know whatever it is he’s about to do, it’s going to be unbearable. 

Oh, it’s not fair, it’s not fucking fair. You were right there.

You squirm, trying to catch the climax that is so steadily slipping through your fingers, but every time you move your hips to try and entice him once more, he shifts backward a little further and denies you your prize. 

The coil continues to unravel, losing slack at a devastating pace. This time when you try to reach him, Eddie pushes your legs up to pin your knees against your chest, and he holds you there, bearing down on you with all his weight. 

“Eddie–” you whine. “Come on–” 

“Take it back,” he says, and you almost don’t believe you heard him correctly.

“...Huh?” you gasp, blinking stupidly up at him as he looms over you in a way that might be misconstrued as menacing on anyone else. “Take what…?”

“Tell me I’m the fucking best,” He demands, shifting off the mattress and slowly easing out of his boxers. 

“W-what?” you stammer, trying not to get caught on the way his cock bounces up to slap audibly against the taught line of his stomach. 

He kneels back on the bed, never taking his eyes off of you as he moves with a glacial, calculated stoicism.

“Who’s the fucking best?” he calls in a gentle sing-song, spreading your legs and pushing them flat against the mattress, splaying you open and taking a good long look at what you’ve suddenly got on display – his gaze is blown dark and wide when his eyes flit back up to your face, “And who’s the best at fucking?”

You groan. 

“Jesus – you and that fucking ego—” 

You bite your sentence off with a startled yelp as, with both hands on your hips, he yanks you further down the bed and slots himself in place between your legs.

You watch him watching you as he takes himself in hand and begins teasing you with a raunchy, painfully slow-up and down. He nudges the domed tip of his uncut cock through the dripping slick of your folds, only just barely there and not enough to actually do anything useful. 

“Take. It. Back.” He says slowly, emphasizing the words with each agonizing pass through your wetness. 

You grind out a deeply frustrated groan and push up on your elbows, shifting uncomfortably as the waterbed rocks beneath you – stupid waterbed – and opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

“What makes you think you can–ah!” He snaps his hips into place with all the grace and finesse of a cowboy holstering his gun.

Eddie slides in all the way to the base and is seated firmly in your guts before you feel the press of his hips on your ass. 

Your mind turns to meat again – giddyup.

“Say it.” He says, thrusting into you and setting an agonizingly slow pace – fucking you the way he’d lay fucking the bed – and it already has you coming apart at the seams. 

You suppose that’s what you get for teasing him earlier.  

“Hah–!–fucking shit! I take— Jesus Christ — I take it back!” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

You feel every inch as he pulls back and almost all the way out before snapping back again, each hungry thrust slamming home with enough force to make you see stars. Your arms tremble and fail under your weight, and you drop back into the pillows.

He’s punishing you for something, you know it. Maybe for being mean, for yelling at him, or maybe for making him wait around all afternoon and refusing to tell him where you went, but it’s punishment all the same. 

Eddie’s not cruel, but he likes to take his time as he dismantles you. He likes it painfully slow and hard enough to knock the headboard against the wall, and you are nothing if not the impatient recipient of his love.

“...you’re so… hah – s-so…” You try to say, but he drives the words right out of you with a sharp snap of his hips.

“So what?”

He knows exactly how stupid he’s making you. 

“So f-fuckingg mean…”

You can feel the vibration of his laughter buzzing into you through his cock and it’s nearly enough to make you seize.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” he pants, “Tell me how much you like it,”

You try to answer, to tell him to fuck off and stop bossing you around, but you’ve been rendered understandably mute as you fist your hands in the sheets and do your best to push back against him and meet his every thrust. It’s difficult with the waterbed roiling beneath you, but you try all the same because you know at this pace he isn’t going to last long and you’ll be damned if he runs out of steam before you cum. 

And then, almost as if he’d anticipated the thought, Eddie puts a hand on your hip and forces you down, holding you pinned so you can’t do more than take what he has to give.   

It is only enough to keep you teetering on the torturous edge, never enough to send you over, never too little to draw you back, but it feels so fucking good.

This is why you really let him fuck you into oblivion every night. Not because he needs it or because it’s one of the only things that stirs the embers of his old personality. 

It’s because he’s really, really fucking good at it.

You can feel the litany of whorish noises flowing from your lips more than you can hear them over the vulgar sounds that fill the air with every pass of his cock through your aching hole. 

You’re painfully tuned into it all: the harsh slap of skin on skin, his soft grunting and moaning fills the room as he moves, and the slick mess dripping down the backs of your thighs, making for a smooth glide in and out of you and helping him to sustain his quickening pace. 

You’re suddenly so wet. You can feel it making a sopping wet mess of him as well as yourself, and it’s enough to make your toes curl and your walls flutter. You clench over the length of him, drawing a low rattling moan from deep within his chest, and feel a bright burst of warm satisfaction flood your veins.

Good to know you’re not the only one so affected by this. 

You’re only vaguely aware of all the things Eddie has begun to say as he fucks you. The raunchy little questions and affirmations to which you can only nod along in consent, too drunk on the delicious sensation of being so perfectly stretched to form any kind of coherent response.

You can’t believe you weren’t going to let him fuck you tonight.

Yes, it feels good — so, fucking good. Yes, you like it when he fucks you like this —faster, more! Yes, you’re his good girl, taking him so well — don’t stop — yes, yes yes yes…!

“God–” He grinds out, cutting into the endless tide of your babbling, “—I can feel you squeezing me – Jesus — fuck, you’re so tight…”

The sudden vice Eddie has on your waist is a crushing thing as he forces your knees up and bears down on you with all his weight. He’s suddenly so much deeper than he was before, pressed flat against you and as close as he can possibly get (without slipping beneath your skin). 

He begins a punishingly slow, grind, just the perfect amount of friction against the swollen, needy bundle of your nerves to have you writhing under him.

Now, this? This is exactly how you like it. 

Your eyes roll back and slide shut as you press your head into the pillows and arch beneath him, exposing the tender columns of your throat and mewling at the intensity of this new position.

“Oh— f-f-uh—!” You bite the curse off with a shrill gasp, one hand flying down to grip his wrist as his palm splays over the lowest point of your belly, applying pressure there like he is in danger of bursting through your abdomen and needs to hold himself in, “Fuck! E-Eddie—!”

“I know, Baby,” He grinds out, cupping your cheek with a tender, sweaty hand, “I know…”

You’ve got your lower lip pulled so tightly between your teeth that you half expect to taste blood as the heat in your abdomen quickly begins to bloom and wind itself into the tight, vibrating coil which had eluded you before. Your lips part on a gasp, and he presses the pad of his thumb down into the middle of your tongue. You close your mouth around the digit and suck the lingering salt of your own desire from where it has dried tacky on his skin. 

Eddie moans, and after a moment, you can feel him beginning to tremble. He falls forward to brace a hand on the mattress beside your head, and he keeps fucking you, but with decidedly less gusto than a moment before as his thrusts become sloppy and immeasured.

You heart jumps in anticipation of what is about to happen.

“Are you close?” You ask, curling your fingers around his quivering, sweaty forearm.

He’s breathing so hard over you, you might be surprised to learn he wasn’t teetering on the edge of an earth-shattering orgasm, but only if you didn’t know what you knew about Eddie’s stamina these days.  

“Uh… hah – n-not quite, Sweetheart.” He says, swallowing hard and gasping out a haggard, raspy breath, “Not yet… but I’m getting there.”

Oh, shit – you were afraid he was gonna say that. He’s getting tired, too tired to keep up this pace at least, and that means you’re suddenly on a time limit here. 

The problem with Eddie on top these days is he has, unfortunately, become all bark and no bite. 

He can’t do a lot of things he used to, like sit up straight in a chair for too long, or run faster than a staggering jog, or fuck you like he used to without cramping, stuttering, and losing steam before either of you can finish. 

It’s not his fault, and yet it is, because he quit physical therapy before he could make any real headway, and more specifically because he smoked half a pack of Camels today.

Suddenly faced with the possibility that he might not finish, you take matters into your own hands.

“Come on,” you say, reaching up to hold the back of his neck, pulling him down so you’re nose to nose. You kiss him, “Don’t stop, you’re almost there.”

He nods and does his best to find his rhythm again, and you do all that you can to assist him in that. You hook a leg over his hip when he paws at your knee, feeling only the slightest bit of difference in this new position, lying on your side and facing him. 

“Doing so good,” you say, hoping that a little praise will be as effective on him as it is on you, “Keep going – that’s it, that’s my good boy…”

“Oh, fu– fuck!” he stammers, sweaty fringe sticking to the both of you as you knock foreheads.

Normally, referring to Eddie as your “Good Boy” is just about enough to turn him completely feral, and despite the eagerness it attempts to muster in him, he only manages a short burst of wild thrusting before he stutters and falls off his rhythm altogether. 

It draws a pitiful whine from deep within you as the orgasm you’d been hurdling toward begins to turn gossamer and slip through your fingers.

You try to take as much of the slack as you can and smother him with everything you know drives him crazy. 

“Such a good boy… so good for me,” You moan in a hushed and breathy whisper. “Love you fucking me like this – love you so much. God – don’t stop, Eddie… don’t–”

He tries to oblige you – he really does – picking up the rhythm again and again, but it’s slower every time he falters, and the desperate canting of your hips becomes borderline violent as you attempt to compensate for the way he’s steadily flagging.

He’s burning so hot and shaking badly enough that you have half a mind to put your hand on his forehead and check his temperature, but you know his is a fever of a different kind, and it sends a hot wave of pressure blooming in your stomach. 

You’re almost there, you just need a little longer and you’re almost certain you can get him there too if you can make this last, but after only a few more arrhythmic stops and starts, Eddie makes a harsh sound and hitches as something evidently pulls in his bad side. 

“Ow, shit–!” he yelps, stopping to grasp at the spot where it suddenly hurts, “Ah – Goddammit…”

“What’s wrong?” You ask, but he’s shaking his head, and you know before he says anything that he’s reached the end of his tether.

“I can’t–” he says, fighting for breath between every word, “Baby, I’m sorry … I gotta … I gotta stop,” 

He drops heavily on top of you, crushing you flat, and just like that, he’s finished without either of you managing to cum. 

Goddammit indeed.  

You try not to let him hear the agitated sigh you breathe as he rolls off of you, painting you in his sweat and sliding onto his back with a weighty groan. For a moment, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to him try to catch his breath as the euphoric high of your bunnyfucking steadily begins to fade.

“Sorry, Baby,” Eddie’s voice comes lilting up from your right side, bracketed by the charcoally rattle of his labored breathing. 

You pull your shoulders up and cross your arms over your chest, hugging your biceps as you sigh. 

“You tried your best,”

“Don’t say that,” he says, sounding incredibly hurt by the idea that that could be his best.

He didn’t even finish.

“Why not?” you ask, turning over to face him, “Didn’t you?” 

It occurs to you that it sounds a tad too much like an accusation, but before you can rethink your tone, it’s his turn to sigh. It’s a deeply frustrated thing that quickly turns into a loud groan as he throws his arms over his eyes.

“Fuck me,” Eddie growls.

After a moment, you sit up and cross your legs, staring down at the pitiful, sulking form of your boyfriend – another image you would hang with the placard of “man’s mounting shame” – then again, maybe not, considering the indecent little detail of his hard-on is still lying stiffly against his belly. 

Evidently, not every part of his body got the message that the game was over. He may be done, but his dick is not, which means it’s not all bad news.    

He did just ask you to fuck him after all. 

“Lay back,” you say.

Eddie drops his arms to watch as you swing your leg over to straddle him.    

He puts his hands on your hips and gets caught in a volleying back and forth of looking up at you and looking down at where you’re settling over him, like he can’t believe you would do something so generous. 

“You sure?” He asks unevenly, and you shush him.

“Just lay back,”

“...You’re an angel, you know that?” Eddie sighs and does as he’s told, settling back into the pillows and letting you take the reins.   

You resist the urge to tell him you’re only trying to get off, and let him believe it’s a tirelessly selfless act as you lift up onto your knees, carefully taking his tender, twitching cock in hand and guiding it home once more. 

If he knew how self serving the gesture really was, you don’t think he would mind, because at least this way he still gets to cum. 

You do all the work, and you’re still the vessel. 

Eddie breathes out a weighty, relieved sigh, and you shudder as he slips in with only the slightest bit of resistance. You never get used to that initial stretch the pull of gravity gives in this position as you sink down over the broad flare of him. 

You’d been on top the first time you’d ever slept together, and you remember thinking that it was a deeply generous gesture on Eddie’s part, letting you set the pace like that. He’d pulled you so tight against him that night and held you close as he guided you through those first few moments of bright and blinding discomfort. It was the best first time a girl could hope for, and you used to love being on top, but these days, it’s never as good as it used to be. 

With you on top, Eddie is more than likely just going to lie there with his hands on your hips while you do all the work. He’s a considerate lover when he’s not tired, or at least he used to be, but you can’t imagine he’s got much steam left after the earlier pace he’d set. 

What it really means, however, is that you have got to be very careful how you proceed, or the orgasm you’d been hurdling toward moments ago will have a very good chance of wandering off entirely. So, you shut your eyes, and you go to work, with your brows furrowed and your lower lip pulled taught between your teeth in concentration.

At some point over the course of the last few minutes, your mixtape ended, so the room is nearly silent as you bounce and listen to the soft, wet sounds that steadily begin to fill the room again. The much quieter groaning and muttered praise – coming entirely from Eddie’s end this time – your own breathing, the halfhearted creak of the bedframe, and worst of all, the loud slopping of the mattress roiling beneath you.

It’s all suddenly unbearably gross.

You do your best to shut it out and focus on the stretch when you drop, the pull when you lift up again, and how you can feel every ridge and imperfection sliding through your pussy. 

It's not nearly as effective as it was before, but then again, you don’t have nearly as much help this time. Something stirs in the pit of your stomach, and it is tragically not the first inklings of an orgasm. You breathe out slowly to try and banish the sick feeling roiling there, and distantly feel a muted stab of pleasure make an attempt at rising to claim the real estate it vacates. 

It’s middling, at best, but it’s better than nothing.   

Had you been looking, you would have seen Eddie staring, eyes hooded and mesmerized by the joining of your bodies.

You would see him looking so completely lovesick and watching the creamy slick ring dripping down to wet the thatch of coarse hair at the junction of his trembling thighs. It might even be enough to help you skip the prerequisite buildup and jump right to the ecstasy, but you’re not looking. You’re too busy rising up on your knees and dropping back down at a starkly disciplined pace – not so fast that you might bite things off too soon, but not too slow as to lose the steady building of bright sensation, welling in the pit of your stomach for the third time.

You shift, trying to find the perfect angle, to emulate the way he so easily takes you to pieces. Every one of your calculated movements is made with extreme caution as you work to construct that elusive tower of power. You don’t understand how Eddie does it, how he always knows exactly where to touch you, where to find that perfect spot and press on it until you’re a blubbering sloppy mess. 

Maybe if you can just – a slight shift backward. A little to the left … you know it’s there, if only because of how aggressively he’d been pounding on it only a few moments ago – bastard. You grit your teeth and breathe out hard through your nose, searching… searching … getting warmer. 

You jump as you feel the tip of him graze it – that elusive spot – and gasp at the bright sensation darting shyly across your midsection and fight to remember just exactly what you did to get there.

Then, your concentration falters when you feel Eddie reach up to paw at your tits and tug impatiently at the hem of your shirt.

“Take this off,” he says, voice thick with the gravely timbre of arousal.

You swat his hands away.

“Shh, I’m trying to concentrate,” 

It’s suddenly so much harder to pretend that this hasn’t become a completely self serving act – the bloom is officially off the evening’s rose. He makes a put-out sound in the hollow of his throat and answers you with no small amount of sarcasm. 

“Oh, boy, isn’t that sexy?” 

“Eddie – shut up,” you warn him and brace your hands on his stomach, tilting forward ever so slightly to try and change the angle without losing your rhythm.

You’re not trying to be sexy, you’re just trying to get this over with, and if he’s too stupid to realize that, that’s his problem. 

Don’t be unkind – that little nagging voice can shut up too. If Eddie doesn’t let you cum this time, you’re going to kill him.

The rocking of the waterbed is so much worse up here, and suddenly you’re teetering on the edge of seasickness. You drop your chin to your chest as another wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you grab for Eddie’s hand, peeling his fingers away from the fat of your hip and moving them to the point of your connection.

The way you see it, he might as well do something while he’s doing nothing.  

Thankfully, he takes the hint without needing to be asked, and presses his thumb down, drawing tight, firm circles over your clit that sends out an immediate beacon of relief. Waves of ecstasy bleed up into your abdomen, steadily smothering the sick feeling scrambling for purchase there, and you sigh out a wistful moan of pleasure.

And thank God for that.

“Like that–?” He tries – you put your hand over his mouth.

Normally, you like how mouthy he is during sex, but under those circumstances you would have already cum twice by now, so what you need is for him to shut his goddamn mouth and let you do this.

Why can’t he just shut up and let you finish what he started? That fantastic, euphoric thing?      

You need to feel that again, feel him, but you’re not as good as he is at this, and you’re starting to grow numb under the continued up and down, hitting all the wrong spots and hopeless to find the right one again without his help.

You fold under the weight of the conflicting sensations – the middling results of your bouncing and the building pressure of his thumb on your clit – and you fall forward. Forearms braced on the bed, bracketing Eddie’s head, your hips stutter and you fall off your rhythm. 

You drop your head to press your forehead to his and hum out your frustration. 

“Help me,” You say breathlessly, and if there is one thing you can trust in on this good green Earth, it is that Eddie will do anything you ask, no matter what. 

You gasp when he rolls his hips and instantly strikes the spot you’d been working so hard to find. It’s a halfhearted effort because he’s too tired to do much else, but he curls his free arm around your back and pulls you flush to his sweat slicked body.

Your legs drift wider over top of him, and with the gentle rocking added to the dutiful ministrations of his fingers on your clit, you finally start to get somewhere.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck and moan, and the part of you that loves him so badly you feel insane with it sometimes, even when you can’t stand him, urges you to bite him. Not hard, you don’t want to hurt him, but there’s something primal about the need to feel his skin between your teeth.

Something about his neck has always made you hungry, ever since you first met, you’ve always felt the need to sink your teeth in, but the tender, puckered skin beneath your lips as they part reminds you that you are not the only creature who has ever given in to that urge. You want to bite him, to thank him and let him know just how much you love him, but it’s because you love him that you won’t do it (even if he did it to you first).

You press your tongue to the ruined skin stretched over his jugular and taste the salt of him. The hand pressed to the small of your back comes up to cradle the back of your neck as you lathe and gently suckle the spot, hyper conscious of every wonderful sound it pulls from him, waiting for the slightest hint that it is becoming too much. 

But fucking him like this suddenly feels so unbearably impersonal – he could be anyone laying beneath you. Not truly, because his is the only body you’ve ever known and you know his body as well as you do your own.

You’d know him in the dark with your eyes closed (you have, many times before) but a misplaced, creeping dread building at the base of your spine is suddenly so worried he won’t be there if you look, despite the needy pull of his hands and the gentle fanning of his breath warming you. It’s been too long since you checked to make sure he is still here with you.

You need to be sure, but, if you open your eyes, you’re half afraid you’re going to lose your concentration and all this will have been for nothing – it’s never for nothing, but some nights you need those means at the end of that long and winding road as badly as he does – so you reach out with scrabbling fingers and take a possessive fist of his hair. 

Eddie groans out a pitiful sound, and when you give a sharp tug to his scalp, his hips buck up, driving him deeper into the greedy sucking heat of your pussy. 

You gasp and share the sentiment of “oh, fuck”, which comes tumbling from both your mouths when you spasm around him.   

“Shit—getting close,” Eddie says, and you’re struck with an oddly contrary feeling.

You’re not nearly there yet, so you pull tighter, and you rock your hips back and try to force some kind of a synergy into your conjoined, sloppy movements. No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to manage to get in sync. 

You roll your hips over top of him like he isn’t even there, and fuck him the same way you would fuck a pillow you’d forced into the shape of something. You’re using him to get off rather than working together, and if you were thinking clearly, if you weren’t just trying to cum, you might understand that that was the issue here. 

You feel the muscles in his abdomen tense and release as he makes a high, desperate noise and tries to swallow it down. He starts to squirm and writhe beneath you, and you know he’s reached the edge – he’s about to cum.

You also know that by the way he’s suddenly gone silent, he’s probably fighting tooth and nail to hold on to it until you can get there, and you hate him for being such a gentleman. 

“Fuck-fuck –” he pants after a long moment of squirming, “Baby – tell me-tell me you’re close – I can’t…m’gonna–”

“Don’t–” you gasp, seizing him by the jaw and pushing bolt upright so you can ride him in earnest. “Don’t you dare!” 

You don’t even want to hear him say it. He hums out a pathetic whine, but nods in agreement. He won’t cum until you do, and you’re gonna hold him to it. 

You rock your hips violently back in forth, rising on your knees until he’s almost slipped out of you entirely and dropping with enough force to make him grunt with the effort. You feel almost panicky, heart pounding against your ribs as you desperately try to feel him as deeply as possible in one last ditch effort to beat him to the finish line.

You hadn’t realized that’s what you were aiming for until this moment, but that nasty little competitive streak in you has lit a fire in your belly that doesn’t feel nearly close enough to an orgasm as you need it to.

You know he can go deeper, and yet you can feel his hip bones kissing bruises into the backs of your thighs, and when that math refuses to explain itself, you release your hold on Eddie’s jaw and tilt backward, bracing your hands behind you on his trembling thighs.  

Beneath you, Eddie squirms with the effort of trying to stay above water. Had you been looking – and part of you truly wishes you had – you would have seen how he’s flushed a bright, pretty crimson all the way down to his chest, brows pinched, jaw set, teeth clenched, and upon closer inspection, you would have seen tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he goes to pieces beneath you. 

You can’t see how you’re tearing him to pieces, but you can hear it. Every needy little sound he makes as you ride him to the end of the earth.  

“Oh, God–” he chokes, “Mmmgonna cum… Baby – Sweetheart, please let me–”

“Almost there–” you gasp, reaching down to flick at your clit, “Just– just a little longer…”

“– I can’t I can’t – hnnghfffuck  – please!”

You ignore him in favor of bouncing faster, trying to keep Eddie from going to smoke beneath you, trying to keep him here with you, and he makes a harsh, pitiful noise, something crossed between the agony of ecstasy and a pained yelp.

Almost there, almost…

“Don’t stop,” you say, over and over in a breathless mantra, as if they were the magic words to push you over the edge, “Don’t stop, dont—don’t stop…” 

And then, he braces his feet on the mattress (as best he can, stupid fucking waterbed) and arches as he drives up into you, three sharp thrusts that hammer the elusive spot in your furthest wall with enough bruising force to nearly send you toppling over backward.

You would have done just that if he hadn’t seized you by your forearm to aid in the movement he wasn’t prepared to make, but it’s the last blessed push you needed to get there. 

It hits you like a freight train, without any hint of warning. Fire explodes in your belly in a storm of ecstasy that shoots sparks out to every corner of your body. You tense so hard your bones creak under the duress of your orgasm, and the sound that tears itself from your lungs is loud enough to savage your voice box. 

You’re powerless to resist the way your body seizes under the force of your climax, though distantly, you realize that’s not you – when it struck you and sent you hurdling over the side of that cliff, you pulled Eddie right down with you.

His face is screwed up in that devastated look of agony as he punches his hips up and pulls you down in the same moment. The muscles in his stomach spasm and heave with every beat of his orgasm, painting your inner walls with ropey bursts and filling you to brimming.

It’s just enough to keep the hot bloom in your abdomen undulating for that much longer, and when the initial brightness of climax releases you and finally begins to subside, you continue to tremble under the waning aftershocks of pleasure. 

Eddie sinks bonelessly beneath you, and hisses from the blessed kiss of overstimulation every time you clench over him. You don’t mean to keep doing it, but yours is a hungry pussy, and she never seems to know when enough is enough. 

When it becomes too much and those little noises become distant and pained, you push up on shaking knees. He slips out of you, you slump forward, and you lay your head on his heaving chest to listen to your favorite song as his cock grows soft against his thigh.

Eddie’s heart thumps with the erratic fervor of exhaustion as you lay pressed together, gulping down needy breaths of stagnant, sex tinged air. 

You’re vaguely aware, lying atop Eddie like this and bearing down on him with all your dead weight, that you ought to roll over, so you don’t hurt him, but your body has taken on the consistency of half-set Jell-O and you’re not certain you could move if you tried. 

Suddenly, the heavy up and down of wounded lungs fighting for air is replaced by a mirthful shaking, and you realize that Eddie is laughing. 

“Jesus fuck–” he says, completely spent yet totally satisfied and you can’t help but share the sentiment. 

You pat the side of his face with your open, sweaty palm.

“Good job.” 

“Team effort,” He peels your hand from his face and raises it to clap with a weary high five, “Go team,”

Your body trembles as you begin to snicker, and the bed moves right along with you.

“God, I hate this motherfucking bed.” Eddie sighs, and your insides bloom with residual pleasure. You win. 

You keep the triumph of that to yourself, however, and just pat him gently on the shoulder.

“I know, Eds.” 

As the blissful numbness of the afterglow begins to fade, you start to come back to your senses and realize with no small amount of aggravation that you’re going to have to get back in the shower. 

At least this time it’ll be easier to coax Eddie in with you.

Your palms stick as you brace your hands on his chest and push up, slowly, because you’re still too wobbly to trust that you won’t go toppling over again. 

When you look, there are angry red marks in his skin where you hadn’t realized you’d dug your nails in when you came, and you feel a pang of despair over hurting him.

He follows your eyes down to them, and regards them with a gentle, probing hand.

“Like ‘em?” He asks, “I just got ‘em done.” 

“Did I hurt you?”

He offers you a lopsided shrug.

“I’ve taken worse knocks,” he says, “What about you?”

“I’m okay…” you say, trying not to think about how unpleasant the cooling slickness between your thighs is. 

It suddenly reminds you far too much of sticky blood spurting with every thump of your erratic heart, and your scar throbs with the memory of how badly your hands shook as you fought to tie a tourniquet off at the top of your thigh.

You feel the pinch of fingers at your elbow as Eddie fumbles with putting a hand on you.  

“Hey, you good?” he asks unevenly, lifting his head to peer at you through heavy lidded eyes, “You’re shaking.” 

You banish any lingering feeling of your trauma, attempting to claw it’s way back to the front of your mind and give him a wry smirk.

“Wonder why,” 

He makes a pleased, fucked out sound in the hollow of his throat.

“You ready to say it now?” he asks, and when you give him a puzzled look, his eyebrows jump with innuendo, “Who’s the best at–”

You whip the pillow out from beneath his head before he can finish and hit in in the face with it.

He really is the fucking worst, and you hope he never changes.

This time when you step into the shower, you do it together. You lean heavily against each other as the stream washes away all evidence of your lovemaking – save for the bruises, of which there are many – and after, you let Eddie towel you off.

Neither of you has it in you to change the bedsheets, so you settle on laying a towel down. You’ll do laundry in the morning – it feels oddly hopeful, that there is something waiting for you on the other end of this strange, strange night, even if it’s only laundry. 

Tomorrow well and truly is another day. You settle into bed together, and take great comfort in that – you did you best, and you can try again tomorrow. 

Back to front, knees tucked in behind yours, arms around your midsection pulling you tight against him, you lay against Eddie and feel his heart beating between your shoulder blades.

Forget all your petty grievances and fears and frustrations. Forget anything but this moment and every moment you’ve had like this since you first climbed up into the hospital bed to lay against him. Whatever happens, whatever you lost, this is enough. 

It has to be, because you almost lost this, and you don’t know what you would do without it. You don’t know what you would do without him. 

Laying there in the still dark of four hundred square feet, you begin to feel something drumming on your throat. Not Eddie or anything tangible, but the urge to speak, to spill your guts, to tell the truth. 

Oh, fuck off, you tell the feeling, Alright already.

It’s only when you feel his breathing go slow and deep, and you are almost certain he is asleep do you finally muster your courage.

You’re possessed with a sudden calm. Maybe it’s because you’re certain Eddie isn’t listening, and maybe it’s because secrets are always easier to spill when whispered in the dark, but that hot coal of truth has suddenly become too much to bear. 

Behind you, Eddie shifts in his sleep, readjusts, and pulls you tighter against him so he can rest his head on yours, cheek pressed against your temple. 

You’ll tell him for real tomorrow, but right now you have to say it out loud, if only to make sure it sounds right. 

The words have to be perfect.

“Eddie, I’m pregnant,” you say to no one but the ghosts. 

Your voice bleeds into the room and sounds eerily hollow against your eardrums, but there is a truth to the words that is inarguably relieving. 

Like releasing a breath you’ve been holding too long, the tightness you’ve had in your chest all day begins to dissipate, and you finally feel like you can relax.  

And then Eddie sits up. 

“What did you just say?” He asks, and your heart leaps up into your throat so quickly you’re half afraid it’s going to come flying out of your mouth. 

Every muscle in your body goes tense as you freeze against him. You hold your breath and wait to see what will happen, what he’ll say. Maddeningly, he doesn’t say anything, he just sits there. 

You twist over to face him, and with him leaning over you, you can see the faintest suggestion of his eyes shining in the dark. For a long moment, you just lay there, staring up at him, waiting for him to speak, and suddenly so afraid of all the unknowable things that must be running through his head.

“I’m pregnant.” you say again, a little softer now that it’s the real deal. 

“Oh… okay…” He says, suddenly sounding so painfully boyish it makes your chest ache. “…okay…”

Kids having kids. 

You don’t know what to say to try and ease the shock of it all, because you’ve already been through the rollercoaster of thoughts and feelings and emotions he is bound to be experiencing and you hadn’t done so well with the information yourself.  

After a moment, the silence becomes unbearable.   

“I just… thought you should know…” You say, “…It’s yours.”

“Oh…” he says again, then “...yeah, ’course it is.” almost like he’s assuring himself of that fact rather than agreeing with you.

Whose else would it be? It’s not like you’re opening your legs up for anyone else around here. Still, the way you can’t read any sort of emotion on Eddie makes your chest go tight with panic. You want to shake him and snap him out of the paralysis that seems to have seized him, but you can’t make yourself move. 

“I don’t know what to do.” You say, and it’s finally enough to get him to look at you again.  

“Me neither.” He says. 

It’s a deeply disappointing thing to hear. You hadn’t realized just how much stock you’d put into Eddie telling you exactly how to proceed. How heavily you’d been leaning on that crutch. With it kicked so unceremoniously out from under you, you fall.

Your voice is wet and burbling when you speak, tears are collecting on your lashes and it would be almost startling if they hadn’t been simmering just beneath the surface all day – all month if you were being honest with yourself.  

“What should I do, Eddie?”

Something changes in the dark, a shift in the air, a flicker of something across his face that is gone before you can read it, and he lays his palm on your cheek. 

“...You should go to sleep, Sweetheart.” He says softly, “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

It’s not what you wanted to hear. You wanted him to have all the answers, to solve your problems with a gentle guiding hand, but you conveniently forgot that he doesn’t know any better than you do. 

He is right, though. There’s nothing you can do about it right now. You could stay up talking about it all night, you suppose, but what good would that do?

You’re tired. He’s tired. Even without the rabid session of mindless bunnyfucking, you had yourselves a day and a half, and you can feel it turning to sediment in your bones. 

You need to sleep. You should sleep while you still can.

And then, you're struck between the eyes with the memory of having heard somewhere that most new parents don’t sleep for the first year of their baby’s life. You don’t know which part of that intrusive factoid is more startling: the idea that you’re not going to sleep for a whole year or the concept that you are going to be parents. 

Eddie can’t be somebody’s father, you’re thinking as you cross your hands over your chest and stare up at the ceiling, He can barely take care of himself. 

Don’t sell yourself short, Babycakes, the Eddie part of you chides. You’re not doing so hot yourself. 

Out of the dark, you feel the real Eddie’s hand come down to grip yours and crush your fingers into a fist. 

“Don’t worry about it,” He says, the sweet sureness of his tone chasing away the snarling angry doppelganger that lives in your mind’s eye, “We don’t have to worry about it until tomorrow,” 

We.

The relief you feel to have someone shoulder the burden you’ve been struggling with all day is enough to push you back to tears. You swallow hard and breathe out a shaky, wet sigh, and sniffle when Eddie squeezes your hand and tells you once again not to worry about it.

Easy for him to say, he’s not the one who is about to become a human incubator.

But he is right.

There is nothing either of you can do about it in the hours preluding twilight. Tomorrow is another day, and for now, you only have to do exactly what you’ve been wanting to do all evening.

You’ll sleep this weirdness off, and feel better in the morning.

Somehow you don’t believe that for a second.

You roll over, and let your eyes slide shut when Eddie pulls you snug against him again, but you don’t sleep. You just lay there feeling his shallow breathing fan your neck and his fingers flex periodically over the curve of your hip. 

A little while later, he shifts and rolls away from you. He sits up, and you can feel him looking at you, trying to decide if he thinks you’re sleeping, and then the mattress sloshes as he gets out of bed. 

You listen to Eddie padding back and forth across the apartment, moving aimlessly from corner to corner as his mind no doubt spins out with worry. There is the muted rustling of things being moved, the telltale thump of a shoe being dropped and the pawing of searching fingers in the dish by the door. 

He’s putting on his shoes. He’s looking for his keys. He’s leaving.

He's actually fucking leaving. 

The notion is terrifying, but something about the way you left it has you paralyzed.

You’re committed to this charade of sleep, and there is nothing that can rouse you from this bed. Not even if the floor opened up and swallowed you whole.

You don't care what Eddie decides to do. You’re going to sleep, and you’re going to feel better in the morning, even if it kills you.

You hear Eddie call your name softly from the other end of the room, and you do your best to stay perfectly still, feeling his eyes on you in the dark, watching for any sign of movement.

You’re asleep, you’re listening, you’re holding your breath and waiting to see what he will do. 

After a moment that feels like eternity, Eddie breathes an uneven sigh, and you hear the telltale sign of the knob twisting. The door unsticks, swings inward, and he slips out. 

It shuts with a hollow thud, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter and tighter, tight enough to squeeze a salty bead of moisture out from your tear ducts as there is the distant whine and thump of a car door shutting. 

The van’s engine fails to turn over immediately, but the second time he tries, it roars to life with enough gusto to wake your neighbors, had they already been in bed. 

You sit up and watch the door, and listen to Eddie leave. You don’t wonder where he’s going. 

There is only one place he would be going at 10:30 on a Thursday - only one place he can go. 

You drag yourself from the bed and move to the phone, feeling your legs wobble beneath your weight with the residual of your evening activities as much as nerves. 

You punch in the numbers you’ve long since memorized and put the receiver to your ear, feeling an emptiness begin to claw at you as you listen to the line ring. 

Brrzzzbrrzzz. Brrzzzbrrzzz –click —

“Y’ello.”

“Hiya Wayne,” you chirp, your voice cracks. 

“Well, hey there, Sweetheart — wasn’t expecting a call from your neck of the woods ‘til tomorrow.”

Eddie and Wayne have a standing weekly conversation — Fridays at two — and you feel a wave of giddy panic wash over you as you begin to wonder about all the things they’ll have to talk about tomorrow.

“Everything okay?” he asks when a silence you hadn’t meant to allow room for stretches between you. 

“Yeah… yeah everything’s—” you can’t make yourself say it, “I’m sorry, I know it’s late—“

“Nah, don’t you worry about that. What’s up?”

The sudden urge to spill your guts rises violently in you, and you have to clench your teeth to stop it from tumbling out.

I’m pregnant, Eddie’s not coping, nothing is ever going to be the same as it was and we can never go back. 

I don’t know what to do and I’m scared. Help me, help me, help me.

But in a feat of stunning self control, you manage to keep the tide of that existential madness at bay. 

You clear your throat in a futile attempt at keeping your voice steady.

It quavers anyway. 

“Eddie’s on his way over.” You say, trying and failing to sound casual about it.

Wayne doesn’t respond right away.  

Because Eddie hasn’t driven anywhere by himself in fourteen months, let alone to the other end of town in the middle of the night on a random Thursday in June. 

Something is wrong, and he knows it.

“He is, is he?” He deadpans, and you can practically feel the intention to ask why. 

You can’t stand to hear him ask, because you have no idea how to answer. What would you even tell him? The truth? 

You can’t even begin to try explaining that to Wayne, especially when whatever the hell just happened feels entirely too much like you had a fight, and it’s your fault. 

You can’t stand it.

“I just thought you should know,” you mumble into the phone, “He just left.” 

The words stay ringing in your ears far too long and then are quickly followed by a measured silence that stretches before you like the unending march of time. 

He left, he’s leaving, he’s gone – you try to swallow against the way your throat has begun to close and put your back to that door.

You hold against it, the fear, the worries, the impending future and everything else you have no hope of stopping. 

By the time Wayne finally responds, your brain has begun to crawl with spiders and your hands are trembling.  

“Alright then,” he says with no small amount of finality, “You want me to send him back to you after or…?”

You shake your head for no one in particular. 

“No… I think — it might be better if he stays over with you. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all. I’ll keep him for the night and send him home in the morning — don’t you worry, I’ll set him straight.”

The words are out before you can stop them. 

“… please be gentle with him,” you hate to have to say it, because if there is anyone on this earth who does not need to be reminded how to treat Eddie, it’s Wayne, but you still can’t help yourself, “He … he had a rough day…” 

The hum that comes rattling up from the elder Munson’s throat reverberates through the phone and makes your back teeth buzz. 

“You gonna be okay?” he asks and your heart palpitates.

Suddenly, the urge to tell the wretched truth sits once more balancing on the end of your tongue.

“I will be—” you lie, “...bye, Wayne,”

“G’night, Sweetheart,” 

The line clicks, and on the far side of town, Wayne Munson heaves a sigh that carries the weight of the world. 

He puts the phone back on the receiver and feels that weight settle into his deeply tired bones as he runs through all the possible scenarios laid out before him. A fight, most likely, a real knock down drag out if he knows anything about Munson men and their penchant for hitting the breeze. Then again, that doesn’t fall in line with the call you just put in to warn him of his nephew’s impending arrival, and it’s not as if Eddie can get very far on his own anyway. 

He spends the next few minutes wondering if he ought to go out and try to meet the boy halfway, pick him up and stop him before he can blunder through some terrible mistake that is bound to upset the lives of everyone around him for the foreseeable future.

He wonders if that’s even possible where his nephew is concerned.

He ultimately decides against that kind of tom foolery. He’s got better things to do on a Thursday night than go chasing Eddie around town.

Got to let kids make their own mistakes, he tells himself. 

Anyway, he doesn’t know why the boy is on his way over. You said he was coming, nothing more, nothing less. And yet, Wayne can’t shake the trill of warning raising the hair on the back of his neck. He knows what it looks like when someone is about to cut and run, he’s spent an entire life watching that kind of behavior play out before Eddie was even born.

He swallows that doom saying, and takes small comfort in the fact that at least his nephew has got sense enough to come and ask for help before he runs for his life.

Usually. The previous spring notwithstanding. 

Of course, those were extraordinary circumstances, this is just Thursday, so he tells himself he doesn’t know anything. 

He moves to the kitchen, flicks on the light, and puts a pot of coffee on the stove to boil.

It’s going to be a long night.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

It's a Cruel Summer, With You

kai parker x reader | requested

summary: kai's never had anyone tell him they love him. he panics when he hears it for the first time.

tags: based on cruel summer by taylor swift, mild enemies to lovers, drinking / alcohol, secret relationship, summer love, love confessions, fear / panic, past trauma affecting relationships, emotional hurt, unrequited love (but not really), break-up, heartbreak, unhappy ending, one teensy edgar allen poe reference

word count: 5k

a/n: anon, i apologize once more for the amount of time this took! i hope you like it, and i hope i did taylor swift justice. 🩷 i also hope it makes sense bc sometimes i feel like my thoughts are just all over the place 😅

You were staring daggers into the back of his head, three days after a drastic turning point in their lives. And he, feeling your eyes upon him, turned to face you and smiled. That enraged you like nothing else; no man had ever had such an audacity with you, to raise the hell that he had and still offer a smile. You looked back down at your drink, still fuming, and still aware of him watching you, and texted your friends about it. One replied with an equal disgust, another sent a funny-to-her joke, and there was no response from the third. 

“Maybe he’s got a sweet spot for you,” she had said.

“Ha.”

A sweet spot that’d make him kill you last, maybe.

You rolled your eyes exhaustedly, but by the time you looked back down, someone had slunk into the booth across from you. You jumped, then rolled your eyes a second time at the realization of who it was.

“Hey cutie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Kai shrugged, unbothered. He kept eye contact with you in a way that made it hard to look away; his blue eyes seemed to pierce right into your soul. They weren’t bright, like Damon’s, but instead had a touch of darkness in them. Like storm clouds rolling in on a bright, sunny day. They threaten rain, but you’re not sure if the downpour will come today or tomorrow.

Kinda like how he came into Mystic Falls. 

“What do you want?” You bit, after about thirty seconds of staring.

“Are you scared of me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you afraid of me?” He repeated, eerily softly. 

“Why would you think that?” Forced bravery is better than none, especially when faced with Kai Parker. 

“There’s a slight tremor in your voice. Only one finger touches the table, as if you’re unable to settle. You struggle to meet my eyes.”

“What are you, a psychologist?”

“I’m a sociopath.”

Shocker. 

“So?”

“I notice things.” He took a sip of your coffee. Reached out across the table, met your eyes, and sipped your drink. Again, the audacity. “I spent a lot of my childhood isolated. I had a lot of little brothers and sisters, and they were all taught to be afraid of me. I know how to read the signs.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“That’s what they’d say, too.”

“Well I’m not your siblings, and I’m not putting up an act. I don’t trust you, and I think you’re an ass, but I’m not afraid of you.” Your statement’s bold, but he had struck something fierce in you. A nerve, maybe on purpose, that wasn’t going to let him win this time. 

Kai smiled at that. His gaze dropped to the table, surveying your hands once more. His own pointer finger dragged along the wood. “I like you, Y/N. You’re plucky.”

The words took a moment to register - Kai saying he liked you. Kai didn’t like anyone. 

He got up to leave, causing you to turn towards him, prepared to jump out of the booth if you had to. “Well don’t.”

He cocked his head. “What?”

“I don’t want you to like me. I want nothing to do with you; you said it yourself, you’re a sociopath, and I don’t need that kind of bad energy in my life.”

That seemed to be funny to him, judging by the way he chuckled. “Okay, Y/N.” He put his hands up in surrender. “I won’t like you then.”

And with that, he was gone. 

Of course, he wasn’t gone - gone. Kai was never gone - gone from anything, even when people yelled at him to leave. He would disappear for a couple days, but he always came back. 

And somehow, after your interaction, you’d see him more frequently at the grill, too. He’d never talk to you, but you could feel his gaze. His stone cold blues would linger on you, almost like an animal stalking prey. 

It made you anxious, jittery. But somewhere, secretly, also a bit excited. 

He was dangerous in a way that drew you in. He had this aura about him that intrigued you as much as it scared you. You knew what he had done, and what he was capable of, and yet he still occupied the curious corners of your mind. 

And somehow, he seemed to know that. 

♫

How it happened from there is something you still question. Death glares became stolen glances, became blushing smiles, and by the next time he joined you at your booth, you didn’t try to fight him off. Kai ordered an uncharacteristically pink cocktail to match your own tropical choice. Neither said much as you both drank the rum mixtures down to the ice. You communicated in eye contact, mostly, as if daring the other to speak. Your stubborn personalities that should’ve clashed seemed to meld together instead. An intense staring contest was born. You found yourself entertained in the game, and quickly, enjoying it, too.

The booze soaked your brain as you continued to drink; your thoughts were fuzzy, and whenever you tried to catch them, they’d dissipate like cotton candy dropped in water. When Liv closed the restaurant around midnight, she unknowingly crashed the floodgates that weakly stood between you two. Ten feet out onto the street, you fell into him and he held you up. You laughed in his arms, partly due to your own drunken state, but partly that it’s Kai keeping you on your toes. He held you tight until you found your footing, just for you to crash your lips onto his unsuspecting own. The witch, taken aback but not opposed to it, let you taste him for a moment before kissing back. He pushed you up to the nearest wall, feeling and exploring, before hailing a ride back to your place. 

It had been forever for both of you. The uber driver with a ‘no touching’ rule sobered you up a little, but not enough to make you think twice about it. By the time he laid you down on your sheets, any doubt in your mind had fizzled out. He was a gentle lover, much to your surprise, likely because it was such an unfamiliar feeling to be so intimate with another. The little control you tried to take was met with a laugh, and you understood the signal. You didn’t mind being underneath him, though, nor did you mind him staying the night.

Guilt struck you when you first woke up in his arms, but not enough to barr yourselves from meeting again. The first few times you had to be drinking to convince yourself it was okay, but the more morning-afters you spent together, the less ashamed you started to feel. With time, nights started to feel less like hookups and more like something else. He became something you adored when you had, and craved when you did not. The feelings were mutual, though harder to pull out from the siphon, until you asked him directly, putting both your hearts out for the other to grab.

“What are we?” You asked, head leaning on the vending machine as he fetched himself a post-high gatorade. A bag of cookies were held in your own hand from the exchange you made one minute prior. 

“Having fun,” Kai replied.

“Kai…”

“Or so I think,” he followed his words, questioning the look on your face. 

“Are we anything more? Will we ever be?”

A loud voice down the hall that vaguely resembled his sister made a sharp remark to another person. His response sounded closer, as if they were heading in your direction. Kai grabbed your arm and muttered a simple cloaking spell until they both passed. Liv and Tyler both disappeared into her room, then Kai removed his hand. His touch lingered on your skin for a moment. You’ve grown to quite like the feeling. 

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “I’m not exactly the person for relationships, if you aren’t aware. I’m a sociopath that was locked in complete isolation for eighteen years.”

“I don’t care.” You grabbed his hand and laced your fingers together. “I like you. I don’t want this to stop. I want it to be more.”

“I’m not built for this.”

“But do you want it?”

His mouth went dry as he already knew the truth. He did. He wanted you so much, but fear held him back like a dog on a leash. He didn’t have much slack. “I want you,” he finally said. “I want this to work.”

“I’m not good at relationships, either. We’re figuring this out together.”

Kai seemed to accept that better, and two minutes later, he climbed back under the sheets with you, turning on a movie and sharing snacks until you fell asleep. 

♫

As your relationship progressed, it was tested, like all relationships ever are. You grew closer, more comfortable, as summer went on. Much of your time spent together was at night; you hadn’t told your friends, not ready for their questions nor their judgment, nor did you want the word out to his coven yet, afraid of whatever wrath his father could bring if he were to disapprove. You were still figuring things out, still learning about each other, and testing yourselves through time, and that was okay. Life isn’t something to be learned in a day, it’s something in which to be present to see where it takes you.

So, you let yourselves live, to do just that. On top of rooftops and beside small creeks, you snuck out to enjoy each other’s company. Mystic Falls has a lot of places to hide if you know where to look. 

A couple times, you’ve almost ran into others. More than anyone being Liv and Tyler, also avoiding her father. Once, you’ve ducked under bushes to hide from Bonnie. Kai kissed your neck while his hand was clamped over your mouth, daring you to give away your position, while playfully inhibiting your chance to do so.

Sometimes, you were drunk when you found yourselves venturing the town together. The bar in which neither Matt nor Liv worked became a hotspot for you. But instead of ending the night short, you opted to explore the late hours in each other’s company. The alcohol wore off quickly, but the drunkenness brought on by your unconfessed love never did. 

Kai, as it turns out, was easy to fall in love with. He was charming when you first met, but you were tickled to learn that underneath his manipulation tactics, he could be just as endearing authentically. He was a jokester and a flirt, whether across a room when you’d spot each other in public, or when you were hanging out together alone. You were never afraid to be alone with him. If your friends knew you were out with him, alone, at night, they would’ve freaked, but he always made you feel safe. And, once he felt comfortable being vulnerable with you, he revealed a side that could be sweet, too. 

Even after arguments, you were able to patch things up as if they hadn’t happened. Sometimes, he’d be bristling and volatile, but you knew that a lot of his anger came from a place of fear. You learned what to say that would calm him down; you told him what he needed to hear to feel safe again. You’d provide him with the comfort he’d always desired, and when he settled, he’d melt into your touch and softly request forgiveness.

You complimented each other perfectly. And while it took you a moment to name the emotion, the feeling had been there all along. It was love. 

♫

You were only slightly drunk the first time you realized the truth. Kai was painted in perfect, purple lighting, and his eyes seemed to sparkle when they met yours. You stumbled towards him and put your arms around his neck. He caught you, hands finding your waist. The music seemed to fade out as you swayed with him to the beat. It was as if a bubble captured you both, drowning out the rest of the world, making him your world, and in that moment, nothing else existed. You kissed him quickly, desperately, like an addict gone too long without a hit. He met you halfway, equally addicted. 

And then, because you were young, and stupid, and courageously in love, you blurted out the words swimming restlessly in your mind,

“I love you.”

You looked up at him, not expecting an answer just yet, but to offer an encouraging smile. Before your gaze even reached his, his body tensed. His hands felt like ice upon your nervously warmed skin, and his once-strong grip on your waist loosened. Kai wore an expression of confusion, different from the emotion that you tasted on his lips. You opened your mouth to retract the words, but nothing came out. The bubble that consumed you seemed to crack; the music previously blocked filled your eardrums once again. 

A fraction of a second later, you were guided to a hallway by your fingertips. The narrow path reduced some of the music, but most of the traffic. The man of your affection took to one wall, leaving you in the middle. You tried for his hand after he let it go, but dropped it at the discomfort he seemed to feel in having you hold it. 

You racked your brain for the right words, but nothing seemed perfect. You stared at the ground beneath your feet for a half second longer until he spoke, 

“You can’t do that.”

“What?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m sorry? I don’t. What did I do wrong?” He only shook his head, prompting you further. “Was it what I said or when I said it? Because I don’t think it’s wrong of me to confess what I feel for you when I know that it’s true.”

“It can’t be true. You can’t feel that for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Provide me with a reason,” you interrupted, “or let me do as I please. I want to love you. I do, and I won’t apologize for it.” 

“Y/N-”

“We’ve had some tough times together, I know we have, but we’ve gotten through them. We - us, together - have worked through so much to get here. Of course I love you, there’s so much effort and, and, love, that connects us.” You paused, letting your thoughts catch up to your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. You don’t even have to acknowledge it, if you’re not ready. I know it’s a big step.”

“You can’t go there, Y/N.”

“I know, okay, maybe it was too much, too soon. I’m sor-”

“No, you can’t ever go there. You can’t love me and you shouldn’t. I’m not designed for relationships, they’re not meant for me. Do you not remember the things I’ve done?”

“We’ve talked about this, Kai. You confided in me about your fears, but we handled them, I thought. Do you not remember what I said?”

“I do, but-”

“‘Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway’.”

“By Poe,” Kai finished.

“And it’s true. I don’t care about the things you’ve done. I want to love you, and I do.”

“But you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t excuse the things I’ve done just because you want to see me for someone who I am not. You shouldn’t be so desperate to see a difference in me that you convince yourself you love me.”

“What?! Kai, I’m not excusing nor am I desperate. I know you’re different from the you that wrought pain upon the town. That guy’s gone, buried, with this you in his place. And I quite like this you, and I’ve learned to love him, because his progress is worth loving. He is worth loving. You are.”

“The old Y/N would never say such things about her sworn enemy. You’d never dare hold his hand, nor kiss his lips, nor say such things, because you’d know better, and if you did, it’d be because of some horrible nightmare, or some instance where I spelled you to get what I needed, because Y/N, we’re living in a fantasy, and none of this is real.”

“I don’t understand! This is real! We’re here, together, and we were dancing, and we were happy, and now we’re in this hallway. Still together, but now questioning if the summer we’ve spent together has all been a hoax, or if that’s the booze talking.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“You have to be, to think what you’re saying is true.” You paused, heartbroken, and afraid to show it, but pretty sure the choke in your words already had. “So are you saying you’ve never meant it? All the times you’ve kissed me were just folly? Or the nights we stayed up until the sun rose again were only dreams I made up?”

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N. I know what we’ve done, and I know we’ve shared moments, but a fantasy is all this is for us. Something we want, but cannot have. We have to wake up some day.”

“I disagree, I think we can make it work.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. This was never supposed to be a long-term thing.”

“But we said it could be! We said it could make it work!”

“And that’s what makes it a fantasy! We both know that’s a lie.”

“Kai, I don’t understand. Ten minutes ago, we were fine. Yesterday, you gave me a kiss that swept me off my feet; that replaced all my organs with butterflies; that made me feel like full-bloomed roses on the nicest day of the year. You made me feel cherished, and happy, and beautiful, but now, I feel like I’m on the end of a well-thought out joke, and everyone’s finally allowed to laugh.”

“I’m not saying this to break your heart. I’m just trying to be realistic.” He reached out to wipe a tear from your cheek, but you smacked his thumb away. 

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling, but you still tried to talk through them. “I thought we were being realistic when we stayed up talking, all those nights, about how we knew each other’s flaws but were willing to work through them anyway. I would think, if we weren’t, we wouldn’t have spent a whole week together and considered getting an apartment to share, because we work just that well.”

“That only proves my point further. We haven’t been together long enough to make big decisions like that.”

“Then we’ll put it on pause and address it later.”

“Y/N-”

“Why are you doing this? Why does it seem like you’re giving up on us? Why are your words sounding like a preface to a break up?”

“Because they are,” he confessed, “because they have to be.”

“What do you mean, ‘they have to be?’”

“We can’t work. You can’t love me.”

“But I do, and I want to, and we do! We’ve managed to make it work, despite our-”

“But how long do you think we can keep this up? When will our differences outweigh our desires to stay together? When will we tell your friends about us? My family? We are too different for us to work, and I’m too damaged to be loved by you. We have to stop living in this fantasy.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this. Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“I’m not drunk, Y/N.”

“So what, have you been planning this? Have you been waiting for the perfect time? Funny, that the perfect time seems to be when I tell you I l-”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, “don’t say it again.”

“What?”

“The less you say it, the less you’ll believe it.”

“That’s bullshit. I believe it in the deepest corners of my heart. You’re etched into my bones. You’re the shimmer of light in the darkest parts of my mind. I love you, Kai Parker. I love you, and I don’t want to apologize for it, and I won’t believe that I’ve made this all up in my mind. It’s okay that you don’t love me, but don’t you dare try to say you feel nothing.”

“Y/N-”

“‘Tell me all the terrible things you’ve done, and let me love you anyway’.”

“You can’t. I won’t let you.”

“You don’t have a choice. I don’t. I can’t control my heart nor its desires. It wants you; you have it. Tell me you don’t crave it. I know you crave love, Kai. I know it in the way you kiss me, and in the way you hold me. I know it from the time you confessed, at two in the morning when you were too tired to hold back, and I know it from when you told me, clear as day, on that Wednesday afternoon. I love you, and I’m not afraid to love you. Why don’t you give in to what I know you want?!”

Because your love isn’t mine to take. 

Because I don’t deserve it.

Because you’re a gemstone, perfect and pure, and I’m the dirt from which it was pulled.

“Because I don’t feel the same for you,” he said instead, “I’m not capable of love. I’m a sociopath, and anything I’ve ever said was for my own fleeting pleasure. It’s over now. I’m done. I’m bored with us.”

“What? No. Something’s wrong. This is not the same Kai I spent the summer falling in love with. Are you Damon in disguise? Pulling some sick prank?”

“I’m not, Y/N. It’s me, being realistic, and telling you I don’t love you, and I never will. It’s time to go home, Y/N, and to your own bed, in your own sheets.”

The tears streaming down your face run your make-up, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. “But my sheets smell like you.”

“Then wash them.”

The harshness in his tone was unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. When you finally brought yourself to meet his eyes, there was no light inside them, no humanity. His jaw was tensely set, and for the first time in months, you saw the Kai that everyone feared when he had broken himself free of his eighteen-year punishment. Scared and sorrowful, you backed away from him. He didn’t follow. You backed further and further away until you were stumbling out of the bar. The wicked August heat kissed your neck like he used to -  passionately. You grabbed your hair, fumbling it up into a bun to get it off your skin, then searched for your phone to call a ride. 

As the white sedan approached your meeting spot, you trained your blurry vision on the door, but Kai never came out. He never shouted your name, hurried down the steps, nor caught you in an apologetic embrace, blaming his temporary ignorance on too much to drink. He never peered through a fingerprint-stained window, watching you from the glass, wondering if it's too late to take back what was said. It was just silent, as car engines roared and drunk couples chattered around you. 

When your ride finally came, you cried harder than you ever had in your life. Your driver glanced to the backseat, but didn't know a good time to interrupt, so he didn't. He offered a polite smile as you got out, thanked you for the five-star rating, and made sure you got in your apartment safely before pulling back onto the road. 

You barely made it through the door before crashing on the couch. Exhaustion settled in your bones halfway through the drive, and you couldn’t even think about climbing the stairs. The worst headache of your life pounded in your skull. Water was too far of a walk, so you let it throb. 

You tried your best not to think about Kai. His words rang in your head on repeat like an old antique bell - loud, heavy, constant. It almost felt like the whole night was a fluke. A nightmare. A spell, perhaps done by his father, or one of your disappointed friends. When you wake up, he’d be there, kissing your fingertips as the smell of coffee fills the air. You let this thought comfort you, and let it soften your heart. Although, deep down, you knew the truth. 

He wouldn’t be there. He didn’t want you. 

You’ve never known pain like this before.

♫

You can only ignore your friends for so long. Blaming a long to-do list can only give you so many excuses, and when Caroline messages you mid-afternoon on a Friday if you’d meet them at the Scull Bar, you realize you don’t have any more excuses left. So, cautiously, you pull yourself from your bed and drag your feet to your closet. You still haven’t washed your sheets, despite wanting to be rid of his once-comforting smell. It’s more stubbornness than anything, refusing to do the chore. If he thinks throwing a piece of fabric in the wash will rid you of him, he’s a damn fool.

You hadn’t been lying. He owns a part of your heart, and that can’t be simply washed away with some eco-friendly detergent.

Truthfully, you think, ignoring the heaviness in your bones as you enter the Scull Bar, the only way to remove him would be to carve out your heart entirely; to separate it from its lifeline and from all that’s familiar. But, you can’t, so you choose to let it bleed instead, and hope it doesn’t seep through your clothes. 

A vague sadness hangs above your heads, but none of your friends know the cause. You told them you were tired before joining them. You must not have gotten a good night’s sleep.

After all, it’s the first time in Mystic Falls where something tragic isn’t happening. Damon and Elena are planning out their lives, Stefan and Caroline are newly together, and Bonnie and Enzo, a quite unexpected pair, seem to be happy. Jo is five months pregnant, and Kai has left her alone. The girls wonder if that’s of his own volition, or if someone or something is distracting him, but you don’t offer any suggestions. When they then ask you about your own dating life, you only shrug. They tease playfully, having no idea about the wreckage your heart is still trying to piece back together. The cause seems hopeless. You don’t even have the energy to confide in them. 

The topic finally changes, but only because the one who dropped your glass heart enters. You turn when you catch a bit of his familiar cologne, but remind yourself he’s no longer yours and turn again just as fast. The girls let their gazes linger on him as if daring him to bother them, and for a moment, Kai wonders if you told them. But then, as they shrug and go back to their conversation, he knows you didn’t. Otherwise, they’d be hurling bitter words and sharp tools at him for breaking their best friend’s heart. 

And honestly, he wishes they were. 

It’s what he deserves, after all. 

♫

“I love you,” you had said, only a couple weeks ago. 

His heart stopped. His throat went dry. 

The words seemed to have been shouted at him, despite the booming bass around them. You weren’t yelling, though, you were simply telling the truth. 

A truth he wasn’t ready to hear. A confession he didn’t know how to process. 

How could you, a perfect person, love him, someone so tainted and dark? 

How could he ever love you the way you deserved? 

He did love you, of course. He knew it long before you ever confessed, but it was never something he felt okay to share. 

You always made him feel safe. Comfortable. Dare he say it, loved. 

But love was something he had never felt before, and to have something means that it can be lost. And to not lose it tragically, he must be the one to take it away. 

Hearing the words fall from your lips was both the best and the worst thing he could ever hear. He craves love, he knows he’s admitted it. He craves it more than anything else in the world. But wanting it and having it are two very different things, and now that he has it, he regrets asking for it. 

He had to hurt you then, before your soul could be completely shattered later. He had to stop it. Right then. Before he let you in too much and you got too attached.

So, he lied. 

He broke his own heart with every word, but it was nothing compared to the damage he knew it was doing to your own. He wanted nothing more than to sweep you into his arms, hold you tightly, and say it was all just a spell - an outside force trying to drive you apart - but he couldn’t. His fear of hurting you triumphed over his love for you. His mouth spoke before his mind could process the words he professed. He became unrecognizable to himself by the time he delivered his final blow. Your tears stained your perfect face and your posture was defeated, but he was no longer the one that could offer any solace. He was now the one that ruined you, and there was no coming back from what he had done. 

How terrifying it is, that three little words can make or break you. 

How terrifying it was, to wake up the next morning and realize the damage caused. To have to come to terms with the fact that he had broken the only good thing in his life. To imagine the love of his life sitting on the couch, stirring coffee, with a head full of questions neither will ever be able to answer. 

“I love you, Kai Parker. I love you, and I don’t want to apologize for it…”

“I love you,” ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?

[laracrofted]

cruel summer bradley in the woods with an axe as gale has the worst day of her entire life

[sweetprfct]

Cruel Summer

Aaron Warner x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Aaron Warner have been secretly seeing each other since the beginning of Spring. The problem is that your parents are part of Omega Point, the rebel group of The Reestablishment. While Aaron’s father runs The Reestablishment along with other leaders from other continent. From secret meetings to I love yous, you start questioning if all of this is worth taking the risk.

Author's Note: Okay, it's long, I know! I'm sorry. I keep yapping and yapping in this chapter. Anyway, there's a full on detailed smut in here so please take this as a warning. Anyway, this is the only fic I'm uploading this week because I'm going to be in Vegas. I'll be accepting requests in my box, while I'm gone. I'll be preparing two one shot fics when I come back. So, enjoy this for now! :)

Disclaimer: 18+, mention of violence, smut, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

You fluttered your eyes open and slowly adjusted your vision. You heard the soft patter of the rain outside and watched the raindrops slide down the window. The blue hue that blanketed outside meant the day was slowly starting. Your eyes shifted at the clock on the bedside table and saw that it was 5am. You knew you had to go. You were already an hour late, and Kenji was probably worrying about you already. Worse, he was probably irritated over the fact that you were late again. 

However, you didn’t want to move. You didn’t want to go anywhere else. You just wanted to stay here. You and Warner had a long night last night, looking through all the documents again and still found nothing. It was the same every night. Just no evidence at all. Sometimes you both felt like giving up, but you both knew there was a missing piece of the puzzle that you both couldn’t seem to find. 

Feeling the bed move, you felt Warner’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to his body. Your back pressed against his chest, and a soft approving hum escaped his lips as he buried his face on your hair. You looked over your shoulder and smiled before softly rubbing his arm that was around you.

He was warm and his skin was soft.

It made you feel safe. 

“I have to go.” You whispered. 

You felt Warner’s arm tightened around you. You chuckled softly and turned your body around to face him. He only pulled you closer in his arms. Your index finger softly poked his nose, and he gave you a sleepy sleepy smile. His eyes were still closed as you studied his facial features in front of you. 

Beautiful. You couldn’t help but think.

So beautiful. 

“Kenji is going to be furious.” You added.

Warner exhaled a deep breath before opening his eyes slowly. His green eyes stared at you as you tried poking his nose again. He tried to bite your finger, but you pulled it away just in time, making you giggle softly. 

“You’re always worrying about Kenji, love.” His voice was tired and husky.

“He always covers for me and if Castle and my parents ever find out where I am, I don’t want him getting in trouble.” 

Warner didn’t say a word as he pulled you in his arms tighter, your face pressed against his chest, and he tucked your head under his chin. 

“Stay for a little longer.” Warner murmured.

If it was up to you, you would stay here forever with him. You didn’t know exactly what kind of relationship this was between the two of you but the more you spent time with him, you knew you were falling for him even more. You didn’t know what Warner felt about you. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a physical relationship to him. You wondered if he ever decided that he was tired of you, he would just leave. The thought of him leaving you made a knot in your stomach as you reminded yourself to not give in to your emotions. You knew falling for him would break you into a million pieces, and you already have risked a lot by sneaking out every night with him. 

But it was worth it, right?

As the question lingered in your mind, you realized you didn’t even know the real answer to that question. This could just be a physical thing and you were risking everything just for a little summer hook up? Slightly pulling away from him, you gave him a small smile, pressed a soft kiss on his cheek before sliding yourself away from his arms. You picked up your clothes from the floor and put them on and when you turned around, you saw Warner watching you the whole time. A small smile tugging on his lips.

“What?” You asked. 

Warner got up from the bed, put on his pants and walked around the bed before wrapping his arms around your waist. His emerald eyes studied you carefully. You felt the blood rushed to your cheeks as he studied each of your features and his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin gently.

“I can’t get over how stunning you are.” Warner whispered. 

You felt your limbs almost giving out, the wind almost knocking out the oxygen in your lungs as you wrapped your arms around his waist. A whine caught in Warner’s throat as you left kisses on his bare chest. You looked up at him with half lidded eyes as he closed his green ones. You could feel the heat radiating between the two of you, and you couldn’t help but wonder just for a moment…

One moment. 

Maybe all of this was worth it. 

“Please…” Warner breathed heavily, his eyes fluttering open so carefully. “Don’t leave so soon.”

“I have to.” You finally pulled away but Warner pulled you back in his arms, his face nuzzling your neck. 

“Okay, but I’ll see you tonight?” He murmured.

“Of course.” You grinned before finally pulling away completely from his arms. 

You felt the hole in your chest as soon as you left the cabin. Warner’s absence made you feel empty. He was like a missing piece of puzzle in your life that you couldn’t seem to understand. He fits perfectly but somehow, whenever he wasn’t around, you felt that hollow emptiness inside of you. 

As you carefully walked back to the base and shook out the thoughts from your mind, you held your knife tightly in your hand, ready to attack just in case. The walk back to the base was always hard, you could always feel yourself getting anxious that you might get caught but so far, you were okay. 

You hoped.

“You know, one of these days, I don’t know what I’ll have to tell them.” Kenji said as soon as you arrived back at the base.

“It’s fine, Kenji. I will take the blame, I promise.” You said, entering your room. “I won’t let them get you in trouble for my mistakes.”

You sighed and flopped yourself at the edge of the bed. Kenji closed the door behind him and saw the melancholy in your eyes. He walked up and sat next to you. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence in the room and then you sighed and laid on your back, staring at the ceiling. 

“What happened?” Kenji asked. 

“Am I insane?” You asked, running your hands through your long hair. “I know this all started because I want to make sure Omega Point takes down The Reestablishment but how come…” 

You shook your head, a heavy breath escaping from you. You closed your eyes and Kenji looked over his shoulder and studied your expression. Kenji technically didn’t really understand your feelings towards Warner. He didn’t understand why you would sneak out every night to see him even if you had mentioned that what you and Warner have was just a physical relationship. That you both probably just got too lonely in that cabin. 

“You love him.” Kenji muttered.

Those three little words made your body stiff. You couldn’t move, your cheeks flushed as you stared at the ceiling. It was just a simple three little words, so how come it was making you feel like this? How could those three little words inject so much emotion through your veins? It was almost like a drug that made your head spin. The thought of Warner made everything spin. 

“What?” You were finally able to move your body as you sat up. “No, I don’t.” 

Kenji tilted his head and raised his brow at you. He wasn’t stupid. He was your best friend, and you have known him for years. He could tell when you were lying. You may be saying that, but your eyes were saying something else. 

“If you say so, Princess. I, too, would be risking everything for someone that I’m not in love with.” A hint of sarcasm was in his voice.

Your face flushed even more. You bit your lower lip and sighed, laying on your bed again and grabbed your pillow, burying your face on it. Kenji chuckled softly and patted your knee before getting up. 

“C’mon, Princess. We have lots to do today.” Kenji said. 

“I’ll be there in a sec.” You murmured through your pillow.

“Okay, well, hurry up before Castle thinks there’s something wrong.” 

You heard your door open and closed as Kenji walked out of your room, leaving you in your own thoughts. After a few minutes, you finally got up, changed into some fresh training clothes and met Kenji at the training room. The two of you had been training to fight. Castle had suggested for you two to learn just in case it would be needed in the future. That whole idea got your mind pinwheeling again, wondering if Castle and your parents knew something that they weren’t telling everyone else. You even noticed that Sonya and Sara had been spending too much time in their laboratory. You wonder what kind of medicine the twins have been trying to prepare for all of you. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” You asked Kenji later that day.

“What do you mean?” Kenji was lifting some weights as you stood on the corner, watching him.

You were taking a break after finishing cardio, and you were sort of feeling lazy to do weights today. Setting the weight down, Kenji sat up and took a big gulp of his water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You know…” You shrugged. “What Castle and my parents are planning. I mean… It’s sort of obvious there’s something. You and me training? The twins stuck in their lab? They must be creating some type of medicine for everyone.”

“Sonya and Sara are always trying to create some type of medicine.” Kenji said, nonchalant. 

“But no, Princess. Castle hasn’t told me anything. What about you and Warner? Besides the constant sex…anything?”

You threw your towel at him and rolled your eyes so hard, it almost fell off your head. “No, he can’t find a real record of why those kids are disappearing. There’s one thing though… they’re put in some kind of asylum? Some kind of prison?”

“Where’s the prison?”

You tilted your head, giving him a glare. “You really think I would withhold that information from you if I knew?”

“Maybe Warner knows.”

“No, he doesn’t.” You answered that too quickly and confidently. 

A playful smile tugged on Kenji’s face as he started lifting weights again. You sat on the mat and sighed, your head hung low as you played with your fingers. You couldn’t get the thought of Warner out of your mind. You kept asking many questions that you didn’t have the answers to. 

“You know, Princess.” Kenji said, sitting up again. “Sometimes it’s better not to overthink too much. You will make yourself crazy.”

“Yeah.” That was all you could manage before getting up from the mat and started weight lifting with Kenji.

The rest of the day was slow. You had taken a nap right after training. You were so exhausted that Kenji had to come knocking on your door to wake you up when it was time for dinner. However, you couldn’t manage to get up from your bed and eat dinner with everyone else. You couldn’t seem to face everyone and act like you haven’t been sneaking out every night and seeing Warner—the one person they probably thought was their number one enemy. You couldn’t face them and act like you haven’t been fucking their enemy. 

You knew they would never understand. 

So, you sneaked out of the base a little early. Kenji was going to be furious at you, but you needed to get out of there. Sometimes it felt suffocating just to be stuck at the base doing training and preparing to take down The Reestablishment. Sometimes you just need a different environment.

Your hand was in your jacket pocket as you walked towards the forest. You held the knife tightly inside your pocket, prepared for anything that could come up behind you. As you gazed up at the sky, you noticed that you could actually see the moon tonight. Sometimes the sky was so cloudy or was covered with a thick fog that you could barely see it. 

Tonight though, it was bright and big. 

You couldn’t help but stand on the front porch of the cabin and stared at it for a moment. It was a reminder that this world used to be so beautiful, so enchanting. Now, it was all left in ruins, and it was just the moon that was left that could remind you that there was still so much out there. So much you didn’t know and haven't seen. You wondered if anyone out there was looking at it too and thinking about the same thing. You wondered if people out there missed how this world used to be. 

Were you ever going to see the other continents out there? Were they suffering the same as everyone was here in Sector 45 and North America? Was this going to be forever? How will Castle and your parents manage to rebuild everything if they were successful with their plan?

“Hey, love.” 

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard the cabin door creaked and opened. Looking over your shoulder was Warner standing in front of you, his hand held out for you. You couldn’t understand how he managed to look so beautiful all the time even with just the light inside the cabin illuminating from behind him. Every time you looked at him, he was so gorgeous. So beautiful. You couldn’t find the right words to really describe him because there were moments where you wonder if he was even real. 

The heavy feeling that you were feeling in your stomach immediately faded as your hand touched his. He always managed to make your insides calm and peaceful. Just one touch. One kiss. All your fears would perish. 

“What are you doing out here, love? It’s dangerous.” Warner whispered, pulling you into the cabin. 

“I was admiring the moon.” You said. “We barely see it these days.” 

You didn’t notice it then when you were outside because it was so dark but now that the soft light from the lamps that illuminated the cabin surrounded you, you noticed something in Warner’s eyes. 

Fear. 

“What is it?” You asked. 

“I think my father is hiding something from me… besides the missing children.” Warner heavily sighed, walking closer to you. 

“Why do you think that?”

“I mean, I’m not surprised that he is hiding something, but it’s the thought of him knowing about you.” 

Warner’s concern for you made your heart swell a little bit. You saw the terror in his eyes as he gently brushed your hair away from your shoulder before cupping your face in his hands. His eyes stared deep into yours, his face inches away. Suddenly, the clock stopped. Your pulse was wild. Butterflies invaded your veins as he gently brushed his thumb on your cheek. You kept reminding yourself that this was just a physical relationship but how come, it felt like it was something else? 

Something more. 

“I’m—I’m fine.” You tried to find your voice. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t know the capability my father has,” Warner said. “If… he takes you away from me…”

He shook his head repeatedly, his eyes closing like he was in pain. Like he could feel the pain in his core from the image of you being taken away from him. 

“Warner, I’m okay. I promise.” You reassured him. “No one followed me here.”

“I know, love.” He murmured.  "I know you're always careful."

You reached your hand to touch his cheek gently, his face leaning against your touch. His chest was heaving as he pulled you in his arms for a tight embrace. You have never seen Warner like this before. The terror in his eyes and the way he held you. It was almost like if he would let you go right now, he would lose you forever, and you didn’t like that. You didn’t like how he was this terrified because you were okay. 

Everything was fine. 

You didn’t want him to worry about you at all. 

“Do you want to go see the moon?” You asked, trying to make the subject lighter. Your cheek was pressed against his chest, and your arms were wrapped around his waist tightly. 

“It’s gorgeous tonight.” You added, lifting your head up to look at him. 

A soft approval hum escaped him as he buried his face on your neck, a soft kiss planted on your skin. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pressing your body against his. Then, his hand slipped under your shirt, caressing your sides softly and feeling your heated skin under his touch. 

“Lift your arms up.” He whispered in your ear, kissing the line of your jaw. 

You did what he told you to do as he pulled your shirt over your head and found its home on the wooden floor of the cabin. His hands roamed your body from your sides to your back and then, he found the hook of your bra. 

“Take it off.” You whispered, kissing him deeply. 

And just like that, your bra had joined your shirt on the floor. Your fingers fumbled on the buttons of his shirt and slipped them off his broad shoulders. Your hands studied every inch of his heated skin, sliding them on his chest, down the curves and valleys of his muscles on his stomach and then, you slid them on his back. You felt him slightly flinch under your touch, and you immediately pulled away. 

“Sorry.” You breathlessly pulled away from the kiss. 

Warner shook his head, gazing down at you. His eyes were dark and full of desire. 

“Don’t apologize.” He said. “I’m just not used to it. I… I want you to be able to touch me with no limits.”

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” 

“You could never.” He murmured before pulling you in his arms again. 

This time, he scooped you up and carried you towards the back door of the cabin. There, the moon illuminated the lake, and it looked so magical. Almost too unreal that the water was still fresh and untouched unlike the rest of the world around you. Warner smiled, setting you down in the water, making you shiver slightly from the cold soft breeze that was hitting your skin. Under the moonlight, Warner’s eyes glimmered. It made him even more beautiful through your eyes. 

“I have never felt this much peace before.” Warner said, his hands finding your waist. “You’re the only one that understands me. I know I’m someone who really doesn’t know how to communicate well but with you, I feel… different.”

“Warner.” You whispered, your hands sliding up his chest.

“No,” He said. “It’s Aaron. I want you to call me by my name.”

“Aaron.” You whispered.

A smile lit up his face, dimples indenting his cheeks as he brushed your hair back, leaning down to press a soft kiss on the blade of your shoulder. You breathlessly gasp as you slide your hand at the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. Feeling his skin with yours was the kind of connection that you never had before. It made you feel closer to him. 

“I love that.” He said. 

Then, his green eyes went soft. His eyes studied your features, his whole expression turned into something so peaceful. You have never seen it before as he cupped your face between his hands. You gazed up at him, feeling your heart beating right out of your chest. There was something about the look on his face that made you nervous. Made you forget about the world around you and made you forget the running thoughts that have been occupying your mind lately. 

“I love you.” He whispered, his voice full of emotion. 

You heard yourself let out a gasp. Your limbs were petrified, and you couldn’t move an inch. Warner—Aaron just told you he loved you. You had to blink your eyes a few times to make sure that you weren’t dreaming. That you heard him correctly. You didn’t know how long you were paralyzed like that until you had noticed his soft eyes turned into worried ones.

“Love?” He murmured, brushing your cheek with his fingers. 

“Aaron, I—” 

“I mean it, love.” He breathed heavily, his whole face was full of emotion for you.

Then, he said the words again, carefully and word by word. “I love you.” 

When you were finally able to feel your muscles move, you pulled away from him. You found everything so dizzying. It was happening so fast that you could barely find your footing as soon as you found yourself back on the rocky ground. Grabbing the towel, you wrapped it around your body as Aaron followed right behind you. Your back was turned to him, and you stared up at the night sky, holding in your tears that were welling up in your eyes. This was something you have been thinking about. Something that you wanted, but you were also too terrified that this was not going to work out. 

Everything was too complicated.

Too dangerous.

“Love, I could feel your emotions towards me.” He said, carefully taking your hand in his and turning you to face him. 

You could barely find time to get some air in your lungs when Aaron held you in his arms again. Every part of you was slowly cracking into pieces. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t adjust your vision clearly, and you wondered if this was it. You wondered if you were slowly dying, and if this was what it felt like to die. You stood in front of Aaron, you felt his embrace in yours, but your soul was suspended in the air. You were looking down at this moment from above, and you kept telling yourself to move. 

To say something. 

Anything. 

You told yourself to go back down into your body. 

“Aaron,” You finally were able to manage to find your voice. 

“I know how you feel about me. How much you love and want me. I could feel that in every bone of my body, love. I could feel everything that you feel about me. Your fears, your love for me… The way you want me like the way I want you too.”

Your heart has fallen to the ground. 

You couldn’t find the bandwidth to take in anymore of his words because if you heard one more word from him, you were sure you would completely break into pieces. You would collapse right here in front of him. Aaron took a step back from you, both his hands rubbing both of your arms softly. He could feel your body shiver from under his touch.

“Let’s go inside. You’re cold, love.” He said, wrapping his arm around you. 

As soon as you arrived back inside, you picked up your clothes and slipped them on. Aaron slipped on his pants before wrapping a blanket around your shoulders to keep you warm. He could see you shivering from the cold, and you weren’t really sure if it was because of the cold or because of what just happened. 

“Love—” 

You shook your head, holding up one hand to stop him from continuing. You stood there and stared at him for a moment. He was in his grey sweatpants, no shirt on, and his eyes were staring into yours. Your lips trembled as you played with your fingers nervously. You could see the hesitation in Aaron’s eyes as he slowly and carefully took a step towards you. 

“I… thought…” Aaron murmured. “...we have something.”

“We do.” You answered him too quickly. “Do you know how long I have been dreaming of this moment?”

You saw Aaron’s tensed shoulders dropped, his jaw unclenching as he crossed the room and cupped your face. His eyes were full of different emotions and as you whispered his name, he kissed you so softly. So soft and gentle and at the same time, it was desperate and hungry. You have been wanting this. You have been dreaming of this, and it was here. It was happening in front of your eyes. It was happening so fast, and everything was spinning. 

Your legs were almost giving out, but Aaron was quick to catch you in his arms and pinned you against the wall. You couldn’t remember when the blanket had found its way to the floor, but you didn’t care. You only cared about this moment. A breathless gasp escaped from him as he parted from the kiss, pressed his forehead against yours and smiled. 

“Aaron, I’m scared.” You whispered. “I’m so scared.”

“I’ll protect you with my life, love.” He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“I can handle myself, you know?” 

Aaron’s smile grew wider, his fingers softly stroking your cheek. “I know that. I know how strong you are, and I know how smart you are but that doesn’t mean I won’t do everything to make sure you’re safe.” 

You exhaled a sharp breath, your arms wrapping around his neck. “We’re gonna die.”

“Let all hell break loose then.” He said before pressing your body against his and kissed you deeply. 

You ran your fingers through his golden hair as Aaron tugged on your shirt lightly. Pulling it over your head, he pressed soft kisses on your neck. You threw your head back against the wall, closing your eyes as you felt your skin caught on fire from every spot that he kissed. A moan was caught in your throat as Aaron smiled through the kiss and trailed his lips down your collarbone. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as he slipped his hands under your thighs and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his hips. 

“God,” He whispered. “You’re so beautiful. So gorgeous.” 

You felt your cheeks flushed as Aaron carried you towards the bedroom and set you down gently on the bed. He used his inner thigh to part your legs and set his knee between them, towering over you and leaning down to kiss you passionately. You could feel the heat that was washing over his body as you let your hands roam on his bare skin. Your lips were caught on his jawline and down his neck as Aaron breathed heavily, his fingers tangled through your hair. He pulled you close as you continued to kiss down his bare chest, your hands softly roaming the sharp muscles of his arms. 

“Aaron…” You whispered, pulling away. “I love you.” 

Something sparkled in Aaron’s eyes as soon as he heard those words from your lips. His hand slipped at the back of your head and kissed you deeply.

A soft moan escaped from you, and you felt his fingers tugging on your pants.

“Please… take them off.” You begged.

In one smooth motion, Aaron’s hands found the waistband of your pants and immediately pulled them down together with your underwear. You have been naked in front of him many times. Almost every night. But this time, it felt different. Like this was the first time you were intimate with him in a different way. Back then, you could care less how you would look in front of him but this time, you didn’t know why, but you sort of felt insecure. As if he was seeing the real you for the first time. 

You felt your cheeks flushed along with the rest of your body as Aaron’s eyes studied every inch of you. It made you feel vulnerable, and you carefully covered your chest with your arms, looking away from him. 

“Hey,” He smiled, gently taking your arms away from your chest. “Don’t hide from me, love. You’re so beautiful.”

You gazed up at him with half lidded eyes before you felt his lips kiss your chest. You bit your lower lip as he squeezed your breast softly with his hand, his mouth sucking on the other one that made you moan loudly. Your fingers had found his hair again as you arched your back, while his lips trailed down your stomach. Soft and gentle kisses covered your skin, his hands gently sliding down your sides before Aaron stopped right at the bottom of your torso. You were breathing heavily, and he could see your chest heaving when he looked up at you. One hand clutching the bedsheet in a fist, while the other in his hair. 

“Aaron…” You whispered his name, and it made his eyes go darker with desire. 

“Yes, love?”

“I… need you.” You opened your eyes and found him towering over you again. 

A smile tugged on his lips as you flipped both of you over and you straddled his hips. He still had his pants on, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it was so unfair that you were completely naked in front of him already and there was this piece of fabric blocking you from touching him skin to skin. You tugged down on his pants and threw them on the floor with the rest of your clothes. You left heated kisses on his chest, your hands touching every inch of his body. Every curve and hills of his muscles. You kissed the tattoo that sat right on the bottom of his torso. 

You kissed every word, every letter of it.

Every pain that he suffered through his life. Every dark thought. You wanted to kiss away all of it. 

Your lips trailed down and kissed his inner thigh and smiled when you heard Aaron moaned softly from your touch.

“Come here.” He whispered, pulling you up and pressed your naked body against his.

He flipped the both of you over again, hovered over you, leaving heated kisses down your body and parted your legs before kissing your inner thighs. You gasped softly as his fingers found your wet clit and gently played with it. 

“Aaron—” You whined, arching your back.

He moaned softly, kissing your other thigh before his mouth found you. You bit your lower lip to keep yourself from screaming his name as he licked and sucked you on the right spot that made your legs tremble. Aaron trailed his lips back up to your body before kissing you again, tasting yourself in his lips. His hands slipped under your thighs, letting your legs wrap around his hips. He trailed kisses down your neck and sucked on your skin lightly. 

You breathlessly gasp at each kiss he left as you gripped on his shoulders. 

“Aaron, please….” 

“Tell me, love.” He whispered in your ear, kissing the spot just below it. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“You… I need you inside me.” You lifted his head, cupping his face in your hands. 

His green eyes were full of want and desire. He set both his elbows on either side of your head and smiled softly at you. You have never seen him like this before even after the many nights you have spent with him in this bed. Tonight was different. Tonight, he was showing you every vulnerable part of him. Tonight, this man in front of you was different.

This was Aaron Warner.

The real Aaron Warner.

The one who has been hiding behind a cold façade. The one who suffered from his father’s violent behavior. 

The one that loves you. 

Taking his member, he carefully slipped himself inside of you, soft gasps escaped from the both of you. He slowly thrusted and kissed you deeply, your moans being muffled by his kiss. He buried his face on your neck as he continued to move, and his thrusts started to quicken. Your hands gripped tightly on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

You wonder if this was a good way to die.

This moment where everything was just you and him. This moment where you could drown in forever. 

You wonder if you were now in heaven. 

Because everything stopped. Everything was now all hazy as you felt him move deeper inside of you. You were feeling all the emotions that you haven’t felt before. You heard yourself make sounds that you haven’t heard before. You could barely open your eyelids as you pressed your forehead against the blade of his shoulder. 

“God, Aaron.” You moaned loudly, and it only made him thrusts deeper and faster inside of you, hitting you at the right spot.

“Yes, yes—!” You whispered through his fiery skin.

Aaron groaned softly, his mouth finding your breast again as he sucked and licked on it and kept his thrusts at a pace. You arched your back, your eyes closing, and your head started spinning. You have forgotten everything around you. You have forgotten where you were or who you were. You have forgotten your name. All you knew was this. 

This moment right here.

You felt your walls tightened around Aaron, feeling the pleasure building up inside of you. He reached up to you, kissing you deeply as he hit you on the right spot once more. His kiss muffled your screams. He moaned your name in your ear, feeling your walls tightened around him. Pleasure washing over the both of you. 

Everything shattered into pieces. Everything unraveling, coming undone and coming together at the same time. Stars were twinkling in your vision as he kissed you once more and slowed his thrusts inside of you. Both of your bodies flushed and both of you were panting heavily. Your face pressed on his neck and your nails were still digging on his shoulders. You could feel your legs trembling as you slowly unwrapped them from his hips. 

“I love you so much.” He whispered breathlessly.

He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, while you closed your eyes and enjoyed this peaceful moment with him. This was something you never thought you would ever have in your life. After everything that happened in this world, you never thought that someone could love you. Someone could care about you. You never thought you would experience love in this dark and shattered world. He gazed down at you, carefully pulling himself out. His absence inside of you already made you miss him. 

“I never knew what life was like until you.” Aaron murmured, fingers brushing your cheek. 

Then, he brushed a strand of hair away from your sweaty forehead, still trying to catch his breath. You could see his face and body were all pink and flushed. 

“You gave me a reason to keep going. To stay alive. A reason to fight something for.” 

His voice cracked as he lightly grazed his nose against your cheek, breathing you in. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned and pressed a soft kiss on his lips before parting again. You knew about the struggles he has faced. The violent upbringing he had because of his father and hearing those words escape from his lips, you couldn’t help but feel all the emotions washed over you. You never wanted him to feel like that again. You never wanted him to experience that kind of violence again. You never wanted him to feel as if his life was nothing because to you?

He was everything.

Aaron furrowed his brows as soon as he saw the expression on your face.

“Hey, what’s wrong, love?” He asked, cupping your face, worry washed over him. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head as you took his face in your hands. You couldn’t really say anything. You couldn’t manage to find the right words as a tear rolled down your cheek. Aaron’s thumb gently brushed the tear away, his eyes still full of concern.

“You gotta tell me what’s wrong, love. I need to know if you’re hurt or not—”

“I—I’m not.” Your voice croaked. 

You saw the muscles in Aaron’s body unclenched as he blinked his eyes for a moment. He settled himself next to you, pulling the covers over the both of you and reeled you in his arms. 

“What is it, love? What’s on your mind?” He asked, his voice was almost a whisper, you barely missed it.

Your heart was still pounding hard in your chest, you could hear it drumming in your eyes as you let your nose softly grazed on the line of his jaw. Aaron’s one arm was around you, his hand softly rubbing your arm. You set a hand over his chest, just right above where his heart was, and you could feel it beating hard. 

And you kept thinking that it was beating hard for you.

“Everything you went through…” You breathed him in, pressing your face on his neck. “You deserve so much more.”

You felt Aaron pulled you tighter in his arms. He didn’t say a word for about a minute before he set his index finger under your chin, lifted your head and gazed down at you. 

“You’re the only one I care about now.” He whispered. “I’ll do anything to protect you. To be with you.”

Pulling him in, you kissed him deeply. Aaron cupped your face as he smiled through the kiss. At this moment, you didn’t want to think about anything else. You reminded yourself that you also deserved to be happy. You just wanted to enjoy this peaceful moment with him. This happy bubble that surrounded the both of you. You knew this was a breakable heaven, but with Aaron, you’d fight for anyone and anything now. 

You’d fight to keep this. 

You’d fight, not just for him, but for your friends and family too.

You’d fight for love. 

**********

Taglist:

@gracie-221 @his-littlefox @hannahmarie71 @ecliphttlunar @indythefandomhoarder @reminiscentreader @hrtsbecca @soulaires @shattermelyhfmlblog @wildesqdreams @pookiebearnancy @ant-thebooknerd @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @boliviajane

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Title: cruel summer | chapter 6

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Pairing: No outbreak!Joel Miller/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Chapters: 6/6

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Join a tag list

Summary: Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.

He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

Author’s Note: This is the end! Thank you all so much for enjoying this little fic that I have loved writing. Requests are open if you have anything you wanna see in the future 🥰

Additional Tags/Warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age gap (23F and 38M), mild/moderate angst (resolved!), alcohol consumption, discussions of family dynamics, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), slight fem dom?, dirty talk, pet names. Let me know if any are missing!

You don’t hear from Joel the next two days, save for the text he’d sent the night he dropped you off at your apartment with a broken heart. He said he’d fix this and god, you want to believe him. But silence doesn’t feel promising.

Your dad has called no less than twenty times since that night. You’ve let them all rot away in your voicemail graveyard. You don’t have the motivation to do much besides sit on the couch for your daytime crying and move back to your bed for your nighttime crying before exhaustion finally wins and you fall asleep.

There’s a knock at your door on the third day, but you don’t make any move to answer it. You hear the key turn in the lock and your mom enters the apartment.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says gently, setting down an armful of groceries in the kitchen before sitting beside you on the couch, smoothing your unwashed hair from your face with a gentle hand. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but I think I know the answer.”

Tears prick at your eyes. “It hurts, mama.”

“I know, baby,” she murmurs. She pulls your head to her chest. “Have you heard from Joel? Or your daddy?”

“No, I haven’t heard anything from Joel. Dad’s called a bunch, but I…I don’t wanna talk to him, mama. He was so mean.”

“You gotta think about where he’s coming from. You’re his only baby, his little girl. He’s having a hard time separating the baby he used to rock to sleep from the woman who can make her own choices. And he reacted with the heart of a dad, not the brain of a logical man.”

You sniff. “That doesn’t make it any better.”

“I know. You don’t have to forgive him. I’m spittin’ mad at the man myself. But I just wanted you to know.” She presses a kiss to your head. “Now, help me put those groceries away. I have somewhere I gotta be in an hour.”

________

Joel nervously scrapes at the paper label on his beer bottle as he waits for his lunch guest to arrive. He’s been a wreck the past couple of days, trying to keep it together in front of Sarah while his mind wanders to you, your last words to him ringing in his ears.

I love you, Joel Miller. I hope you find it in you to not be a coward and love me back.

That’s exactly what he intends to do. He just needs someone on his side.

Which is why he texted your mom a few nights ago, asking if he could talk to her.

The woman in question approaches the table and Joel stands to greet her, holding an arm out for a handshake. She only rolls her eyes, pulling him into a hug that surprises him. When she seats herself, the waiter swings by and takes her order for a glass of Chardonnay before leaving the two of them to stare at each other.

“So. Joel Miller. You love my daughter, huh?” She asks. He swallows nervously.

“Yes, m’am.”

“And my husband was an asshole to you about it?”

He considers his response. “It..uh..could have gone better.”

She nods. The waiter drops off her wine glass and she takes a dainty sip. “Well. Tell me the whole story.”

So he does. He leaves out the more salacious bits, because your mom doesn’t need to know about what happened in her kitchen, instead focusing on how you drew him in with your sweet disposition and he was helpless to avoid falling in love with you. He tells her about bringing Sarah over and how you played with his little girl like she was the only thing that mattered in that moment. He talks about the trip to the aquarium. He mentions his stupid attempt at pushing you away.

“And I can’t do that again, m’am. I don’t want to. I told your husband that she’s the best thing that’s happened to me since Sarah was born, and I meant every word.”

The whole time, she stays quiet, sipping her wine. Occasionally, a small smile will pass across her lips.

“You know, my own daddy didn’t like my husband when he first met him. Thought he was a no good troublemaker. I think my husband forgets that he’s just as in love with someone’s daughter as you are with mine. And one day someone will love your little girl, and you’ll think they’re not good enough for her, too. It’s the curse of being a father.”

Joel nods, unsure of what to say. Your mom finishes her glass of wine before continuing.

“I think you should join us for dinner tonight, Joel. And I promise to change the gun safe code before you get there.”

________

Joel shows up at your parents house with a bottle of wine and enough nervous energy to power a small city. He feels like he might throw up as he waits for someone to answer the door.

Thankfully, it’s your mom. He hands over the bottle of Chardonnay he brought and she gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“Chin up. You got this,” she says, patting him on the shoulder and guiding him to the living room.

Your dad is sitting on the couch, a glass of whiskey in hand as he staunchly refuses to meet Joel’s eyes. He takes a seat in one of the accent chairs.

“My wife says I owe you an apology,” your dad says. “And that I need to get my head out of my ass before I lose it up there for good.”

Joel has to fight back his laugh, biting his lip hard.

“I just want my daughter to be happy. And she’s right, she’s an adult now. I forget, sometimes,” he continues. “She used to ask me to check for monsters under her bed and in her closet. Hard to believe that same girl is about to graduate college. Become a doctor. Save the world. All the best things I always wished for her. And I also used to wish she’d find someone to love her. And I can’t begrudge you for being that person. So, I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Your mom shouts from the kitchen. Your dad rolls his eyes.

“For being an asshole. And ruining your date,” he grumbles. He drains the rest of his drink.

“Thank you, sir,” Joel replies. Your mom enters the living room.

“Excellent. Now, come on, Joel. Let’s talk New Year’s Eve plans.”

________

It’s New Year's Eve and your mom showed up at your apartment just after dinner with a garment bag and a stern expression.

“You are coming to the party, young lady,” she insists. “Now get in the shower.”

You do what she asks with heavy limbs. You still haven’t heard from Joel. Your dad’s phone calls have stopped. You’re not exactly looking forward to seeing him tonight.

When you get out of the shower, your mom is wielding your blow dryer like a weapon. You sit at your desk while she styles your hair for you. You do your makeup under her watchful eye, then slip into the shiny silver dress she brought for you.

“Gorgeous. Come on. Let’s go.”

She hustles you into the passenger seat of her car and drives to her house. There’s a whole line of cars parked along the curb, and you groan at the idea of having to mingle with their friends.

“Alright, in you go, chop chop,” your mom says, shooing you from the vehicle. You enter the bustling house, forcing a smile as some of your dad’s business colleagues and your mom’s friends say hello, pulling you into hugs and cheek kisses.

Your mom brings you a glass of champagne, pulling you along at her side as she talks with her guests. When the doorbell rings, your mom politely asks you to answer the door.

When you do, you feel like you’re hallucinating. Standing on the front porch is Joel, dressed in a suit, his wild curly hair slicked back and his face clean shaven.

Christ, the man can wear a suit.

“Hey, baby,” he says.

Seemingly out of nowhere, your dad appears beside you. “Hey, Joel! Come on in, can I get you anything to drink?”

You look between the two men, feeling like you’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone. Have you missed something?

Your dad shakes Joel’s hand, all smiles, and your questions only multiply. Joel squeezes your hip as he passes by, following your dad to the kitchen for a drink. You trail behind them, confused as hell as you watch them chat like they’re old friends and your dad pours him a glass of whiskey.

“Uh, Joel?” You ask. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he replies. He excused himself with your dad and you lead him upstairs to your childhood bedroom, his palm hot on your lower back.

In your room, you shut the door and take a deep breath. “Joel, what’s happening?”

“I fixed it,” he says, setting his glass down on your old dresser.

“You fixed it,” you repeat incredulously. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he says, stepping closer and slipping an arm around your waist, “I’m all in. No more runnin’. No more secrets. No more bein’ a coward. It means I’m yours, and you’re mine, and nothin’ is gonna change that.”

You blink at him. “But…my dad—“

“Met with him and your mom. Had some good talks. He just wants you to be happy, baby. He did threaten that he knew a good place to hide a body if I hurt you, though.”

“Why didn’t you call me? Or text me?”

“Because when I came back to you on my knees beggin’ for forgiveness, I wanted to have everythin’ squared away.” He drops down to one knee, then the other, looking up at you with those big brown eyes of his as his hands grip your hips. “So, can you forgive me, baby?”

You smirk. “I could probably be persuaded.”

“Naughty girl,” he murmurs, trailing a hand up your calf. “You want me to earn it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, voice already breathy and your core clenching in anticipation. “I think you owe me a real thorough apology, Joel.”

He grins at you as his fingers reach the hem of your dress, urging it up your thighs until it’s bunched around your waist, exposing your panties underneath. He gently pulls them down your legs, eyes glued to your face as he does. He urges you to step out of them once they’re around your ankles.

Tossing them to the side, he lifts one of your legs and situates it on his shoulder, opening you up to his hungry gaze.

“Missed you so much, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. “Was goin’ crazy without you.”

“Less talking, more apologizing,” you demand, breathing already labored.

He huffs a laugh against your skin before angling his face toward your center, his nose brushing your needy clit as he licks a broad stripe through your folds, his tongue dipping into your entrance. Your head drops back against the door with a groan.

“You gotta be quiet, can’t have all those nice people downstairs knowin’ you’re gettin’ your pussy devoured, huh, baby?”

You bite your lip to hold your noises as he returns to his apology, licking and sucking and biting at you until you’re a writhing mess.

“Joel!” You whisper-shout, tugging on his hair. “Want your cock, baby, please?��

His lips are shiny with your essence as he stands, hands working his belt and fly open in quick succession. He presses a messy kiss to your lips as he frees his cock, an arm wrapping around your waist to lift you up, your legs automatically circling his hips. His hot length slides against your clit and you moan into his mouth, the sound swallowed in his kiss.

He presses you against the wall so that he can use one hand to position his cock at your dripping entrance, pressing his hips forward to drive himself inside you. Your arms cling to his shoulders as you gasp at the stretch.

“Christ, darlin’,” he whispers against your neck. “I’m not gonna last long like this.”

“Don’t care,” you reply, swiveling your hips in an attempt to get him to move. “Come on, baby, you’re not gonna make me cum standing still.”

Joel chuckles darkly, drawing back and slamming harshly up into you, the power of it knocking the breath from your lungs. He pounds into you harshly, his hands sure to leave fingertip shaped bruises on the skin of your hips and ass where he holds you to drag you over his length.

“Touch yourself, pretty girl, I need you to cum with me,” he demands. You slip a hand between your bodies, fingers circling your clit with little finesse as you work in tandem with Joel to reach your release.

It shatters over you in a consuming wave, your legs going tight around his waist as you lean forward to bite your scream into his shoulder. You feel his cock pulse inside of you as he presses in deep, his release warm as it fills you to the brim.

You slump against him, boneless in the aftermath. He presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder before gently lowering you to the ground, an arm looped around your waist to support you as you try to stand on shaky legs.

He tucks his softening cock away into his boxers, pulling his pants up. He locates your panties on the brown and kneels down to help you step back into them.

“Not gonna steal this pair?” You tease. He nips the inside of your knee in retaliation.

“Only because I’m not about to send you out in your parents house with my cum dripping down your thighs,” he replies, situating the fabric on your hips before pulling your dress back down over your thighs. When he stands, he pulls you into a deep kiss, his palms framing your cheeks. “I love you,” he says as he pulls back.

You grin at him, smoothing your fingers through his mussed hair. “I love you, too.”

________

You rejoin the party, your hand in Joel’s as he leads you to the kitchen for a drink refill. It’s nearing midnight, and your dad has turned on the TV in the living room to the ball drop in anticipation.

The man in question is in the kitchen with your mom, the two of them flushed from their drinks and the heat of the full house. Your dad gives you a tentative smile.

“Hi,” he says as the two of you approach. You release Joel’s hand to pull him into a hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers.

“I know. Thank you, dad,” you reply. You don’t miss the shine in his eyes when you pull back and kiss him on the cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” he tells you.

The noise in the house starts to grow as the ball begins to drop, the countdown echoed in chorus by the party goers. Joel hands you a glass of champagne, pulling you into his side as he starts to join in.

“3…2…1! Happy New Year!!”

Joel tilts your face to his, planting a kiss to your lips, in front of everyone. When you pull away, your mom tugs you into a hug and your dad shakes Joel’s hand, both men smiling.

And you can’t help but think how amazing it is that one summer can change your whole world.

Tag list: @huffle-punk @telepathay @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @caatheeriinee07 @leeeesahhh @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @lovebandrry @str84pedro @daddy-din @missgurrl @paleidiot @mattmurdock1021

[exyzedd]

¯⁠\⁠_⁠ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[peachysunrize]

LOML IRIS THIS CHAPTER SLAYED SO HARDDDDDDDDDD i loveee this series so much!! Thank you for trusting me with beta-ing your chapters🥹🫂💕

Cruel Summer (03/10)

Against the Tide

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: at Crown's family tensions rise and you keep running into a person you shouldn't talk to. but both he and you can't help testing the waters.

words: 9.3k

thank you to @peachysunrize for being my beta reader, she also helped me in the previous chapter and I forgot to mention her, but finally here she is. love you bestie!❤

previous part • series masterlist

I am so excited for you to read this chapter! from the next chapters onwards, what we have been waiting for begins (forbidden love)🤭 and I want to thank you once again for all the support you are giving to the story, you guys are amazing and you don't know how much I appreciate it🙏🏻 now enjoy!

warnings: half smut, language.

Sunset's Pier stretches along the boardwalk, a vibrant and lively place, especially on summer evenings.

In the distance, waves break gently against the pier and shore pillars, while palm trees sway in the cool ocean breeze.

Wooden planks creak under the feet of visitors, while the smell of the sea and freshly made food fills the air. 

The stores lining the pier are clearly divided, some full of luxury, with glittering windows displaying designer dresses and accessories. And there are other more modest stores, where prices are more affordable.

Or as it would be technically said among the locals of Sunset's: stores for the rich and stores for the poor.

After an exhausting afternoon trying to surf with the boys, Alysanne drags you into the stores, excited to find something nice for tonight's party.

The two of you walk between shop windows, exploring the options, especially in the stores where you can both afford to shop. But Alysanne stops in front of one of the more expensive stores. 

You watch as she gawks at a blue bikini on display on the mannequin, the color as deep as the ocean at sunset.

"Look at this!" she exclaims excitedly, almost pressing her face against the glass, "It would be perfect for tonight's party. If only I had the money to buy it," she murmurs between excited and disappointed.

You smile, understanding the desire. The bikini is really beautiful but it is obvious that the price must be very high.

"Don't you have any savings?" you ask her.

"No," she laments, "I used it to fix my phone, did you forget? I can't afford to buy a new one so I have to fix the one I already have."

"Well, I guess I—

A high-pitched laugh interrupts the conversation and when you both turn around, you instantly recognize the people.

Perfectly coiffed black hair and shiny red hair. All those impeccably dressed girls, with expensive handbags, gold accessories and designer sunglasses; Baratheon and Lannister.

But you distinguish precisely Floris Baratheon, Aemond's girlfriend.

All of them in a group watch you both with a mocking face for two things; for being in front of a store like this and for being longing for the beautiful blue bikini.

And even though they don't know you, it doesn't matter that they bother you for the radar of recognizing poor people, because the difference between you and Alysanne is too big compared to them, who can afford to shop here.

Especially since the top you are wearing at the moment is torn on one side. You don't see much but they've already seen it, as well as inspecting your dirty, old tennis shoes.

"Do you really think you can buy anything here?" speaks precisely Floris with a venomous tone, with a sneer as he looks at the bikini and then at both of you, "It's a shame you can only look. Not everyone has the privilege of affording something so nice."

"Yeah, maybe someday you can get it... in the next millennium sales."

They laugh among themselves, clearly enjoying the moment of superiority. And you clench your jaw, annoyed, especially as you watch Alysanne lower her gaze in humiliation.

"Excuse me, do we know you?" you inquire.

You obviously know them, but you won't indulge them.

"Oh dear, everyone here knows us, especially me," Floris says superiorly, adjusting her sunglasses.

"Even your kind know who we are," Cerelle also speaks with clear contempt.

Alysanne regains her composure and you instantly notice.

"Yes, we know you are such a bunch of idiotic, shallow people for thinking that the price of clothing defines someone."

"Some of us have more important things in life than spending money on something so insignificant," you too stand up for yourself and your people.

They all let out a laugh, where Floris takes a step toward you.

“Yeah, sure. The poor always find an excuse to justify their misery. How pathetic and sad," she feigns an exaggerated pout.

"I'd rather be poor than be as empty as you," Alysanne next to you snaps at her.

She arches an eyebrow at her, amused and clearly entertained, as she folds her arms in her arrogant attitude.

"Empty, huh? Well, it's better to be empty than desperate, like you two. Keep dreaming of things you can never have. But don't worry, being poor and living on the filthy side of town, dreaming is free."

"And who do you think you are huh?" Alysanne lunges at her, "You think because you are rich I can't break your face or what?"

You quickly stop her holding her by the arm, worried and of course, Floris recoils back with a frightened face and her friends don't take long to instantly surround her, shielding her as if they were her wall of protection.

"Not so talkative and brave now huh!?"

"Hey, Aly," you hold her back, "Stop it. It's not worth it."

Floris and all of them look at you both with despise.

"See? They're all savages," she says without again getting too close.

"Oh yes, very savage, just because we're defending ourselves from you making fun of us and making us less," Alysanne tells her firmly and in a defiant tone, "But you can't even defend yourself. So I advise you to talk less or I'll break that pretty rich girl face of yours."

It is clear that Floris wants to say more mean words, but she stops when she notices someone else walking towards the group, completely oblivious to the situation and you also recognize this person; Helaena Targaryen.

She with her usual calm, appears near you, but stops just in front of another nearby store, casually observing a clothing through the glass without noticing the tensions.

And you curiously notice how Floris, upon seeing her, remains silent for a moment. Then you guess that she doesn't want to show her true colors in front of her sister-in-law.

"Let's go," she orders in a lower and less confident tone than before.

Her friends obey without another word and begin to walk away, but not before giving your cousin a last contemptuous and disdainful glance at your side.

And you too, of course.

Helaena also leaves with them as they approach her, her silver hair shining in the sunlight and moving with impeccable grace.

Alysanne lets out a frustrated sigh next to you, still angry. 

"I can't believe those idiots think they have the right to treat us like this. And all because of what? For not being rich like them?" she inquires in disbelief, "Do you realize how stupid that is?"

"Let them stay in their bubble," you mutter, feeling just as irritated, "We're not rich but we're better people than they are."

Alysanne takes a deep breath, shaking off the adrenaline of the moment, then you both go your own way, trying not to let this thing that happened ruin your day.

Especially since you have another party tonight, unfortunately with those girls, but it's not like you're going to be with them.

And just as ten o'clock at night falls, Cregan's car and the excited shouts of the guys rushing you to get into the car can be heard practically all over the street.

Alysanne again shushes them, as your uncle and aunt are asleep, as well as most likely the neighbors, and you both quickly get into the car amidst laughter and scolding of the guys.

Then Cregan's car speeds up and soon all of you are walking into the Crown's side.

The party is as always; on the beach. And it's everything you'd expect being among the rich. The DJ can't miss, the clean beach, the pier, the yachts and the smell of alcohol mixed with the sea breeze, among other substances.

Tonight you decide not to focus on the people around you and together with the guys, sit on the white sand, while Cregan and Sam go for as many beers and bottles of champagne as possible.

Alysanne is also not in the mood to be inspecting and lusting after Pandora accessories on all the rich girls that are here. So the two of you relax.

Chase lights the bonfire in the center and pretty soon everyone is drinking, talking and laughing, enjoying the party and nothing else.

Every now and then some guys come up to greet Cregan, who greets them back without much enthusiasm and returns to the group, where you notice how attentive he is especially to Alysanne.

You don't say anything and just continue drinking, laughing at the guys' jokes and burning a few marshmallows, when then... you feel it.

A piercing look on your face.

You don't doubt it's a girl inspecting you, so you don't think anything of it at first. But then... it's as if that look burns you and wants to see through you, sending shivers through your whole body.

You look around, just out of curiosity, but when you raise your gaze absentmindedly towards the direction of the yachts, to the part of the deck specifically, your eyes meet piercing blue eyes.

Then you see him.

Aemond Targaryen.

Time seems to stand still and you feel more of the weight of his gaze, that same weight you felt last night on the pier, when he caught you.

You also feel a surge of nerves course through your body, with your heart racing as you remember the night before. It's not fear, but it's something close to it. 

Because now he's caught you here too, at a party of his people, at Crown's.

And the weird thing is that you didn't expect it and you feel so silly about the fact. How could you not think that he would be here and that the two of you would probably see each other after last night?

Even though it's no longer a probability, he's seeing you right now and sees what you're doing; pretending to be one of them.

You watch as his gaze briefly sweeps over the guys you're with and honestly... you don't know how to feel about it. Technically, you're not doing anything wrong here either, are you?

‘Then why do you feel so embarrassed?’

His piercing eye again focuses on you and you, for some strange reason, don't look away and neither does he. It's as if the two of you are caught in a game you can't avoid. 

No one seems to notice the silent exchange between the two of you, except you and him. But you know that talking to him, getting close to him in public, is impossible.

You know it and you know he knows it too. It's like a law in Sunset's among its locals but more specifically among those your age; the rich and the poor can't be friends.

You bite the inside of your cheek, even without both of you looking away, where both of you are too far away to say anything to each other, but the looks say it all.

Then, it is he who looks away when Floris holds his face and kisses him softly on the lips, claiming his attention. You feel a sting of something pinch your stomach and you force yourself to stop focusing on him as well.

You try to refocus on what the guys around you are saying, but you can't, not now that he's here too.

You didn't tell anyone about what happened last night with him on his pier, because nothing really bad happened, except the fact that you almost got caught.

It was just a conversation with the son of the richest man in the whole country and heir to his fortune, nothing more. 

Although the memory has followed you ever since.

Unable to help yourself, you look at him again, where you see him surrounded by his friends and also distinguish his brother, Aegon. And of course, Floris, sitting on his lap.

He is no longer watching you but you wonder what he might be thinking now that he has seen you here too.

'Probably nothing.'

You think, since for him, what happened on the pier was just a conversation, a small slip in which you both sought some solace and nothing more, an insignificant moment.

What else could he think of having shared his time with a Black Waves girl? 

You let out a long breath and your eyes roam his features, as the same thoughts from last night return to your mind when you were also slyly admiring him.

'He is so handsome.'

You think as you also admire his short silver hair and see a silver chain peeking out from between the collar part of his shirt, with that simple accessory making him look so ridiculously good.

But you cannot pass Floris Baratheon unnoticed, on his lap, talking to him and leaving from time to time some kisses on his lips or on his cheek.

You shake your head, clearly being impossible, since he belongs to a world that is not yours, to a social class that would see you as an intruder if you even tried to approach.

So you can only think that what happened on the pier was just a one-time thing, a quirk and a moment that you must now bury in oblivion.

Aemond Targaryen, as a child, does not remember a single moment when his family did not attract attention.

He does not remember a single moment where his mother did not ask him, as well as his siblings, to accompany her and his father to an event in the town for work and simply to see them all together as a perfect and powerful family.

He has forgotten the countless times where his father, Viserys, introduces him and his siblings to his associates and all those important people more as trophies than as what they really are; his children.

With Aegon the introduction is brief, for after all, no one expected his first eldest son not to follow in his same footsteps as his older first daughter did, Rhaenyra.

But Aemond knows that Aegon is... uncontrollable. 

As a teenager he began to show signs that he didn't want to go into business or anything like it or anything relatively formal. 

As much as his mother, Alicent, and even his own father and grandfather Otto tried to scold, persuade and convince him, it only caused Aegon to back away from the idea and start doing whatever he pleased.

For him only desire has always been to simply live life and find out what he really wants.

Then there is Helaena, who followed the same path as Aegon but in a more controlled way and with different aspirations to life though just as flattering, which is to study marine biology.

And finally there is him, Aemond Targaryen.

He saw the whole process of his older brothers in deciding not to devote himself to the business or rather empire that his father has built. With Aegon it all turned out to be a disaster but Helaena was more persuasive.

So someone had to do it, follow in his father's footsteps as Rhaenyra did, but this time a man, a son and that had to be him.

Daeron still lacked time to decide and grow up some more. So he watched as his father began to despair and have fights with his mother and everyone at home for not being able to choose the aspirations and decisions of his children.

So it was he who calmed the storm at home when he announced that he would apply to college to study business management to carry on the Targaryen legacy, just like Rhaenyra.

His father was overjoyed, as was his mother and for the first time, in that small moment, Aemond felt that he was finally receiving that recognition and appreciation from him.

But then he realized that it was never worth it.

After searching for so long for a way for his father to finally see him for what he is, his son, when that moment came it wasn't worth it and it didn't make him feel any better.

Because Aemond knows deep down that only his father was happy for him out of convenience, to mold him to how he wants and because that way, he is just another piece on his board.

And it became quite clear to him the moment his father expressed his idea about the Baratheon's.

Viserys, even with all he has and having an advisor at his side like his grandfather Otto, wants more.

And Borros Baratheon is that more by being the owner of the most important commercial fleet operating along the entire Pacific coast of all. Viserys needs to transport freight for its big company, which is what Borros does.

Viserys needs freight for his great enterprise, which is what Borros is all about. But Borros Baratheon is a difficult and greedy man who also wants more, even to Viserys Targaryen himself.

So he and his entire team focus on an easier target that will get him to the finish line; his daughter, Floris.

Any of his daughters would have sufficed, but considering Floris is about the same age as Aemond and his father had already seen her get her hopes up for him at events, it was the perfect idea.

At first Aemond refused. For the moment he had no intention with any girl, especially any of the Baratheon sister’s. But his father insisted.

Viserys explained to him how much he needed such a partnership and asked him to start asking her out to eventually formalize and make the deal with his father easier.

Aemond tried to help him find other alternatives, tried to make him understand that he didn't want nor could he play with Floris' feelings in that way to achieve a partnership.

But none of that helped.

His mother sided with his father, with the difference that she was more sensible on the subject and asked him to try and take the time to get to know her, that maybe he might really like her.

So he had to give in and before long, he was in a formal relationship with Floris Baratheon.

And now this is his life.

Not that much has changed, but there are these fights at home between her mother and father because there's really no love between them. 

There's also fighting between his father and his siblings over the choice of what they really want to do with their lives while they're all attending events to pretend to be this perfect family that they are.

And he's in a relationship with a person he doesn't really want to be with and as soon as the summer is over, he's going off to college to study with pressure and expectations on his shoulders for a degree he doesn't really want to study.

But as anyone in Sunset's would think, both Crown's and Black Waves; the Targaryens are perfect.

“Hey.”

A voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he looks up as he sees Aegon approaching him, shorts on, sandals, a white t-shirt, sunglasses and phone in hand.

"I was looking all over for you. What are you doing?"

He lets out a long breath and closes his book to place it back on the shelf.

"What do you want?"

"Get dressed. We have a party tonight," he lets him know, then starts typing on his phone.

"Another one?" he asks with a serious look on his face.

"What?" he becomes indignant, shrugging, "Come on, it's summer. And everyone will be there. Cassandra told me Floris is going."

"I don't want to go."

He looks at him with a frown.

"What are you talking about?" he asks him blankly, "You're going to stay here reading these stupid books all summer? You're going to college for another two months!"

"Helaena and Daeron will go with you, I don't understand why you want me to go too," he tells him grumpily, choosing another of the many books in the library.

"Helaena is sick and Daeron promised to stay with her to watch movies," he tells him as if were the gravest sins in the world, "Come on, man. Come with me. And I won't ask you for anything again, this will be the last time, I promise."

"That's what you always say, like I don't know you," he says as he picks up a book and sets it on the table, "You're just so fucking annoying."

Aegon lets out a frustrated groan.

"Come on, don't be like that. You'll have more time to read and be doing these boring things you like to do," he tries to convince him, pointing to the books.

But Aemond says nothing to him and, of course, Aegon starts to throw his tantrum.

"Aemond," he complains, "Come on, please."

And the sound of his voice is already starting to annoy him, especially being in the library.

“Aegon—

"Come on," he interrupts him, insistent, "I really don't want to stay here and listen to dad yelling and fighting with mom all night, man." 

Aemond lets out a long breath again and with nonchalant movements watches his brother over his shoulder, looking serious and now slowly becoming resigned.

And soon enough, they are both already in his car, driving towards the Lannister house.

Normally he wouldn't have agreed to come, but he recognizes that Aegon is right and the truth is that he doesn't want to stay at home listening to his parents' quarrels either.

Even though his house is huge, the shouting echoes through the halls, and then his father in all his anger goes against Aegon as well, where Helaena intervenes, then Daeron and finally him to try to calm the waters.

And he's tired of it.

Just last night another one of those fights happened, his mother was almost in tears and Helaena too, while Aegon and his father were shouting all the worst things possible at each other.

And that's why he decided to go to the pier after he failed to fall asleep.

As he drives, his gaze softens as he remembers you. 

He still doesn't understand how a girl like you, from Black Waves, for a whole year was going to his family's pier at midnight without being discovered. 

He doesn't understand how you did it either and he's not sure he wants to know. He was about to call security, of that he has no doubt, especially considering the robberies some of his neighbors suffered. 

Because that's what he first thought, that you were a thief and he was trying to do something with his yacht.

However, it was something in your fear and pleading, perhaps also that you didn't have something suspicious on hand to try to do harm and the sincerity in your gaze after silently evaluate you that he saw to finally understand that you weren't doing anything wrong.

It was bad to cross over private property but other than that, he saw you earlier, before he approached from a distance, sitting on the edge of the pier looking out over the horizon.

But he still had to make sure and it all turned out very interesting.

That you were on his pier, risking that you could be caught, simply because that place gives you peace and quiet, caught his attention.

It seemed... unusual. Something out of the ordinary. Maybe because you're a Black Waves girl.

But still, it's something he's not used to hearing from others in appreciating something so simple and plain but so meaningful to that person.

And being there with you... everything in his mind disappeared.

All his excessive thoughts, frustrations, pressures, expectations and stress disappeared for a moment, which is very difficult for him to do in the midst of all the storm in his mind.

And strangely, because he shouldn't have, he spent a nice time with you, an unknown Black Waves girl, even if he didn't show it much at the time.

He doubts that was a good idea, to let you stay and still tell you that you can keep going to thepier. But technically... nothing bad happened.

And doubt that I'll ever see you again, last night was just a coincidence, besides that shouldn't happen, right?

In the town where you both live, a poor girl and a rich man can't even be friends. And much less he can afford something like that because of his family name.

Again his thoughts are interrupted as they enter the area where the Lannisters live and Aegon immediately chatter excitedly about how amazing the party looks.

And soon enough the two find themselves walking onto the beach and onto the Lannister dock.

It's the same as always, there's really nothing new, just decorations, DJ, open bar with bottles of vodka, wine and champagne as well as beer, cocktails and the smell of cigarettes and weed in the salty air.

All the people are dancing and getting drunk, as well as there are other people having mini bonfires, drinking and burning marshmallows.

When a group of people catches Aegon's eye on one of the yachts, he takes no time at all to drag him along with him.

And just like that he meets Floris, who greets him very happily with a hug and a kiss on his lips, which he tries to reciprocate as genuinely as possible.

Aegon goes off to find a girl to stick his tongue down her throat and he stays on the yacht with Floris and his friends. 

Quickly some of his friends offer him drinks to cheer him up and he declines as he has to drive, so he only chooses to light a cigarette, wanting the night to pass quickly.

And so the hours pass, with nothing really interesting going on around him and Floris sitting on his lap, trying to keep up with her to also try to be a good boyfriend.

But all he wants to do is go home.

"Are you okay?"

Floris' voice brings him out of his thoughts and he turns his head towards her, where she watches him with a small smile on her lips and with one of her hands starting to stroke his short silver hair.

"Yeah," he tells her in a low murmur, then takes another sip from the only bottle of beer he'll be drinking tonight.

"Are you sure? I didn't even know you were coming. I texted you and you didn't respond," she says making a pout.

And he avoids looking instantly annoyed.

It's not that Floris is a bad girl, she really tries because she really loves him. But he doesn't feel the same and doubts he ever will, though he tries.

"Yeah, you're right, sorry, I was busy in the library," he explains briefly.

"At the library?" she repeats confused, "Why?"

"I'm getting a head start on reading books for college," he again explains as briefly as possible.

Luckily she doesn't say anything more on the subject but continues to sit on his lap and try to get him to talk, even though he's not really having any of that right now but he doesn't want to be rude to her either.

So when she starts talking to one of her friends, he looks in all directions, scanning the party without again finding anything interesting.

But then in the midst of analysis he sees it.

Or rather he sees you.

A few meters below him on the sand, confused, he immediately recognizes you, sitting among a group of guys and a girl with a bottle of beer in hand, laughing and talking to all of them.

And again he wonders; what are you doing here?

And you can't blame him, he really doesn't get it, it was surprising enough seeing you on his pier, in the most exclusive and private area of all Crown's as to also see you here, on the Lannister's pier, a Black Waves girl mixed up as if you were one of them.

He sweeps his gaze over all the guys you're with and is more surprised to see you talking and laughing with Cregan Stark.

Then he gets it all.

He's the one who gives you access, as well as your friends and that girl you're with, who he assumes must be your cousin from what you told him last night, all except Cregan belonging to Black Waves.

And there you are, again not hurting anybody, but pretending to belong to Crown's.

All the guys you're with are certainly having a great time and so are you, while he again focuses on Cregan, from whom he honestly expected it.

He doesn't include himself much with the guys from his part of town, sometimes he talks to him or Helaena, but nothing more. Now he knows why.

And somehow he can't take his eye off you.

He watches you curiously, analyzing you, seeing that you have guts, just like your cousin and your friends, to take risks like this.

At any moment anyone could expose you if they watch you too much, but you don't seem to care about that, nor do the others.

And then, his gaze meets yours.

He sees you freeze for a moment, as if you are once again trapped by him, which actually you are and he, for some reason, doesn't look away and neither do you.

Memories of last night invade him again and he can guess how you must be thinking about it too.

But he can also guess how you again feel exposed and how terribly nervous you must feel. As if you are afraid that he, now that he has seen you here too, will expose you once and for all.

But it is as if it were a game of stares, as neither of them look away from each other. It's not as if they can talk, the distance is too much, also considering that he is on top of a yacht. 

But what if this were not the case? Would the two of you talk?

Aemond knows perfectly well that they wouldn't.

"Hey, did you hear what I said, babe?"

Floris makes him turn his gaze away from you to focus on her as he feels her turn from his cheek with her hand towards her to plant a soft kiss on his lips, wanting his full attention.

And he awkwardly reciprocates as his attention is still on you.

But he forces himself to take that attention away from you, especially as he still has Floris sitting on his lap with both arms around his neck, glued to him.

And it's here that he assumes, as you do, though he doesn't know it, that what happened last night was just a one-time thing, two people seeking refuge from the world on the pier one night.

But that's all.

The two of you must not know each other, you can't talk or be seen together, mostly because of different social classes, which leads to pretending that the two of you don't know each other and haven't spoken to each other even once.

And what happened that night, on the pier, didn't happen.

A pile of dishes are placed in front of him on the table in the huge back garden of his house which is basically on the shore of the beach, having a spectacular view of the ocean, the beach, the pier, the cliffs around and also the huge houses of his neighbors.

His mother thanks the cooks, who retire and leave his mother, father and him alone.

Aegon must still be asleep, Daeron too because he probably stayed up watching movies with Helaena all nigth who is still very ill. So he is the only one who joins the breakfast.

He looks carefully at a message from Rhaenyra, which is accompanied by two PDF books.

'These books helped me a lot when I first started studying, you can read them if you want to before you go to uni so you have an idea of everything you will learn.'

Aemond reviews both books, both over 400 pages, being very dense material and being exactly what awaits him at college, but he also knows it's important.

He runs a hand down his neck and responds to her text.

'Thank you, Rhae.'

Ever since his older sister knew he would be going into business as well, she's been supporting him. 

It's not like from the beginning the two of them had a good relationship, especially since she's the daughter of their father's first wife and there was no first-rate bond, neither with him nor with her other siblings.

But now that she has a family and he has matured enough, at least more than Aegon, that relationship has slowly begun to be forged and maintained.

Besides he is grateful to receive genuine support. Especially from her, already an expert on the subject and with whom he will probably lead the Targaryen empire in the future.

"Are you going to have breakfast, son?"

His mother's soft voice causes him to look away from his phone screen and set it aside, having no interest in responding to messages from Floris or a few of his friends who were with him last night at the party.

"Yeah, sorry."

He tries to catch up with their pace, making himself his cup of coffee the way he likes it.

"Rhaenyra tells me you're planning to take a management course in the middle of summer, son," his father says, catching his attention, "Is that true?"

And he doesn't ask it in a bad way, on the contrary, it surprises Aemond to see how he has pride in his eyes. 

"Yeah, well... I think they'll do me good before I go to college."

"Yes, very good idea," Alicent says, watching him proudly as she notices all his dedication to his study, as it has always been.

"Oh yes, of course," Viserys agrees, without hesitation, "Have you found the right course yet?"

"I'm still working on it."

"But..." he frowns slightly, watching him not entirely convinced, "How are things going with that girl... uh... Floris?"

He immediately feels an uncomfortable sensation in his lower abdomen, stirring in his chair as he runs a hand over the back of his neck, biting the inside of his cheek and trying to maintain a normal appearance.

"Good," he replies briefly, without looking at him, "Everything's fine."

"Yeah?" he asks seeing his reaction, "You've been hanging out with her?"

"We were together last night," he says without wanting to go into details, wanting to get that topic over with.

And Alicent also sees how his son is starting to react.

"Floris usually comes in often during the day," she tells her husband in a soft tone with a cup of coffee in her hands, "You don't see her because you're at work."

"Well, that's good to know," he says pleased, though not entirely satisfied, turning his focus back to him, "I fully support the idea of the course, it will definitely do you good but... you can't neglect that girl. Your relationship with her is very advantageous to the company and very soon her father and I will start having meetings."

He brings a hand to the back of his neck again, staring at a fixed point on the table as he presses his lips together, controlling his emotions and what he really wants to say to him.

His mother stares at him, alert, not wanting him and his father to have fights too. But it is clear that he too is already reaching his limit.

However, Aemond knows that he has more self-control, besides he's already into all of this, so he has no choice but to accept, again, what his father tells him. 

"Is that what you want me to do?" he asks him in a low tone, honestly feeling tired.

"Of course," his father states sternly, as if it were obvious, "We must have all the most suitable people possible in the company. And the Baratheon's are crucial to our expansion."

Aemond looks up, but says nothing, because he already knows the speech. The Baratheon's, power, family and company.

"Yes but that really isn't the most important thing," his mother interjects again, "After all, Floris is a very nice and pretty girl. I can tell she really cares about you, son."

He can't help but purse his lips at that comment. He knows Floris isn't a bad girl but she's not exactly nice either. And that doesn't change the fact that he's not interested in her. 

"Yes and for that very reason you must not ruin things with her," his father insists, "We have to partner with her father and you can't let her slip through your fingers."

"Viserys," his mother calls out to him with mild reproach.

"You know how important this is, Alicent," he begins to say with reproach in his tone, "I have already lost hope in Aegon. It seems he will never change and will be a good-for-nothing for the rest of his life, taking nothing seriously."

"Don't talk about your son like that," his mother scolds him.

"I'm not going to live forever and someone has to take over the company and support this family. But that doesn't matter to him in the least," he continues, "Daeron is still young and I'm thankful that at least Aemond has taken the same direction as Rhaenyra and me."

Aemond says nothing as his mother continues to reproach, annoyed to hear how Viserys refers to her children, especially Aegon. 

And he remains silent, fed up with these discussions, family pressures, expectations and being the only one of his children whom his father seems to trust.

And the worst thing is that he can't say anything, because he knows very well that his father considers him as his last resort and in a way... he doesn't want to fail him and he doesn't want everything in his family to explode.

Even if it means he has to sacrifice his own life for the good of the family, he has to do this and it's not worth arguing with his father because it's no use and he's not going to change his mind.

His father starts to raise his voice, his mother too and he ends up going to his room with his morning already ruined, annoyed, tired and grumpy.

And when he tries to distract himself, to occupy himself with his own personal matters so as not to think too much, just at that moment Floris comes to visit.

Just now he doesn't have the capacity to want to be around her, or anyone in general, he just wants peace and quiet, but considering the conversation he had with his father, he is not able to ask her as nicely as possible to come another day.

"I was with Cerelle at my house but I got too bored, even though I told her to meet me tonight at the beach."

She begins to talk as she starts pacing all around his room he just sits there with his desk in front of him and a few books open.

"I also talked to Royce, he said he would be coming for a visit soon. My dad is still mad at him for leaving but I'm sure he'll get over it. I also heard that Jeyne wants to have a party the next week and..."

And so he listens to her voice continuously, talking about everything she did and didn't do in her day, while he puts a hand to his forehead and lets out a long breath, trying not to sound irritated.

"Oh and I went to the mall with Cerelle. I bought a beautiful bag and clothes for our trip to Hawaii," she says excitedly, "My dad has already arranged everything and my family is so excited for you to come with us. I'm also..."

Her voice slowly fades slowly, becoming a distant murmur, as he sinks deeper into his seat and stares at a spot in his room.

His brow furrows and his mind drifts further away from the conversation.

He can't find a way to tell her to stop talking without looking rude and frustrated, but the last thing he wants to do is listen to her right now and the last thing he wanted was for her to show up at his house this day.

He has enough going on in his family lately, especially with his father and he's not in the mood to be dealing with people right now. 

He's fed up with everything and all he wants is to be alone while a wave of mental exhaustion washes over him. He wants to get away from everyone for a moment, to have no one bother him so he can have peace and quiet. 

"Aemond."

The hand on his shoulder and the voice so close to him brings him back to reality. He blinks and raises his gaze to Floris, who watches him in confusion.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yes," he says awkwardly and clears his throat, "Sorry," he says, turning his gaze to the front and stirring in his chair.

But she raises her hand towards him, placing it gently on his cheek and Aemond tenses immediately, as she forces him to look at her again gently but firmly enough.

"Are you sure? Are you okay?" she asks him genuinely concerned, "You didn't seem to be listening to me."

"Yes I was and I'm fine, don't worry," he tells her trying to sound convincing.

But Floris is having none of it.

"Is it because of your father or college?"

The silence that follows is palpable as he averts his gaze and removes his hand from her face with a nonchalant gesture. He says nothing but it's clear she's hit the nail on the head.

And Floris lets out a long, resigned sigh, already expecting that. For it is so typical of him not to confide his thoughts and feelings to her.

She's tired of her own boyfriend raising this constant wall between the two of them, where he doesn't want to open up to her. It hasn't been long since the two started dating but still, despite being a couple, there is no trust.

"Aemond," she murmurs his name softly and unexpectedly takes a seat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Floris," he calls her name awkwardly as well, trying to shake her off, "Wait, I don't—

"You know you can talk to me about anything," she interrupts him, her tone insistent but with a gentleness that she hopes will soften the situation, "I mean...I'm your girlfriend and I'm here for you whenever you need something, talk or anything."

He lets out a long sigh, feeling the weight of her insistence and the firmness with which she remains sitting on him.

The feeling of oppression invades him, both physically and emotionally.

"It's not... I don't..." he tries to speak, "Look, it's not that I don't want to tell you, but..." he gets frustrated, not finding the words or even the will to talk to her, "It's a lot of things."

"You can tell me," she insists, "Come on, babe. I just want to help you," she says as she begins to stroke his hair.

He close his eye for a moment, his patience quickly wearing thin.

"I don't want to talk," he makes it clear to her in a cold, resigned, tired tone.

She shrugs.

"Then we won't," she says simply, accepting that, "But I want you to understand that I'm here for you."

"Yes, I know," he says without even looking at her, running a hand through his hair.

"We can always do other things," she mentions with a certain tone that Aemond understands instantly.

And before he can do anything, she is already kissing him.

The kiss starts slow and soft, while he has difficulties to reciprocate at first, but Floris doesn't stop and pulls the back of his neck towards her, deepening the kiss. 

And he with all the mental chaos he has, tries to reciprocate as best he can, trying to forget at least for a moment.

Floris' hands begin to move down, sliding her fingers slowly over his chest while her other hand gently stroke his hair. Aemond tries to lose himself in the sensation, in the moment and let himself go, so he places both hands on her waist. 

She begins to move slightly on top of him, her breathing becoming more agitated and her tongue making its way between his lips, wanting more.

He tries to keep up with her and when Floris begins to rub her center against him, his body responds automatically, letting out a slight grunt without stopping the kiss. 

Floris' need is evident and when she brings one of her hands to the edge of his shirt and pulls away from his lips, she watches him with full intent and desire in her gaze, her lips red and swollen.

"I want you now," she murmurs against his lips.

He doesn't say anything, just watches her, truly not so sure. But then he thinks: fuck it.

He's tired and exhausted from carrying the weight of everything around him. He just wants to forget, if only for a few moments. So when Floris starts to take off his shirt, he allows it.

She kisses him again with more intensity and he responds with more fervor than before. 

Her hands begin to roam all over his naked torso and he stands up, both hands on her thighs, leading her towards his bed.

Soon Floris is on top of him again and feels a spark of electricity run through his skin as her hands touch the edge of his shorts, but before that happens, she slowly pulls down the straps of her dress.

Aemond watches her wordlessly, with his dark eye and indecipherable expression, as Floris complacently takes her time, enjoying every second, wanting him to desire her.

The straps fall and the top of her summer dress slides off, revealing her breasts. Aemond swallows hard, a mixture of desire and bewilderment passing through his body.

She leans into him again to kiss him, as she takes one of his hands and places it on her breast, prompting him to caress her. 

He does so, almost mechanically, trying to let himself go and lose himself in the moment, as she rubs herself against him again, making him more aware of how he begins to get hard, his breathing hitching.

But when Floris' hand descends and slips under his shorts, touching him, it is as if his mind wakes up and sends an alert throughout his body. 

Suddenly, he stops kissing her and takes her hand roughly, stopping her. Floris watches him confused and half-naked on top of him, still shaken and not understanding anything.

"Aemond?"

He closes his eye tightly and lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head and bringing a hand to his forehead, clenching his jaw.

"Fuck," he mutters.

"What's wrong?" Floris asks him without understanding what has changed so suddenly.

But he doesn't answer, just shakes his head again and pulls her hand away, to also gently brush her off of him.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

Floris watches him from his bed, still with confusion on her face and quickly adjusts her dress, covering her naked body.

Her breathing is still rapid, but not so much from desire, but from the feeling of rejection that is infiltrating her. And again, for an instant, she thought this would never happen again.

But here they are, him pulling her away and her heart broken again by the humiliation.

"It's been a while," she murmurs, lowering her gaze, “Y-you don't..." her lips tremble, "You don't touch me."

He doesn't look at her, he can't. 

"I know. I'm sorry," he says in a low tone, the apology falling with a tone of resignation.

He picks up his T-shirt that's on the floor and puts it on, bringing a hand to his hair, ruffling it in frustration. And Floris watches him still completely confused.

"I just don't get it," she insists, "We're a couple. We should... be okay, I don't know," she says confused, "And I don't understand you. You don't talk to me, Aemond."

Aemond rubs his forehead, the pressure behind his eyes growing. He doesn't know how to explain, doesn't know how to put into words all the thoughts that suffocate him.

And he can't tell her that he doesn't really want to be with her either.

"I need to go," he says flatly.

"What?" she moves quickly, catching his arm, "No, please don't go," she tells him, her tone full of pleading, "I think we should talk."

"I can't, Floris. Not now."

Without trying to be abrupt, he releases his grip and Floris, unmoving, watches him as he takes his phone and car keys without another word. 

And he walks away, leaving her alone in his room.

He has no doubt that he will be in trouble for this later, maybe she will mention what happened to her sisters, eventually it will reach her father's ears about her having problems with their relationship and then it will reach his father's ears, demanding explanations from him.

He's not supposed to let her get out of his hands, as his father says, but now he really doesn't care about that.

He doesn't want to be with her and he shouldn't have let that happen. He should have stopped everything the moment she started kissing him.

Sex has been off the table for a while now. He has only slept with her once, when they both started dating for the first time. 

He barely remembers it. It was after they both went to a party. He drank a little more than he normally does and assumes that's why what happened at her house happened. 

And mostly it hasn't happened again because he doesn't have the interest. He doesn't feel the need with her. And just when he thinks it will finally happen when he lets himself go, in the moment he can't do it because it's feels wrong and pushes her away, leaving the action half done. 

And it's not her fault, it's his doing. But he knows that if he explained it to her, she wouldn't understand.

But just like that, another new frustration joins the storm in his mind.

Now he walks towards the pier, the only place where he feels he can breathe. The sound of the waves gently breaking against the wooden pillars, which is the only thing that accompanies him as he sinks into his thoughts.

He doesn't expect anyone to follow him or look for him there. In fact, the last thing he needs is someone else demanding something from him. 

For now, he doesn't want to be the perfect son, the boyfriend who should be attentive or the future heir to the family business. What he desperately wants is to escape the expectations that stifle him day after day.

He leans against the wooden stand and stares out into the deep, dark ocean, letting his mind wander, as he feels all the frustration wash over him and in an instant, he pulls out his pack of cigarettes and lights one.

He inhales deeply, letting the smoke invade his lungs, seeking in that sensation a temporary relief from the pressure he constantly feels. 

He enjoys his solitude, he has been used to it since he was a child. In many ways, he prefers it and finds it easier.

It is only now that he feels he is getting closer to his family or at least his siblings since his father has put more pressure on everyone. But he has not approached in the way he had hoped.

Aegon is not serious enough to broach the subject and evades his family in clouds of alcohol, parties and girls. Halaena is more independent and wrapped up in her own world, with her way of coping without getting swept away. 

Daeron doesn't yet understand the gravity of the expectations that will one day fall on him. And Rhaenyra... she's away with her own family.

And friends... he has no friends. At least, not genuine ones. They are not people he can trust without their own interests involved. 

And if he were to talk to any of them, it would be the same as with Floris; an empty conversation, full of awkward silences and expectations.

That's why at times like these, he strangely wishes he had someone to talk to. Someone who doesn't look at him with judgment or see him only as the heir who has to do his duty.

He needs someone who sees him for who he is, without expectations, without judgment. He just wants to be himself, wants to be just Aemond, without the unbearable weight of expectations.

'What would that be like?'

He wonders with genuine interest and even a certain... longing. But he knows he'll probably never know. Not with the life he has. 

He inhales deeply once more, the smoke mingling with the salty wind, enjoying the fleeting respite this place affords him. Then in the midst of his peace and quiet, the wood creaks softly under the footsteps that are not his.

He frowns and looks toward the entrance to the pier, thinking maybe it must be some of the security men, but then... he sees you.

He frowns more and attentively, he watches you walk, back straight and with cautious steps, as if trying not to make noise as you walk away, unaware of the creaking wood betraying you.

Then he wonders what you are doing here and why you are leaving. 

He remembers that he told you you could come back but doesn't understand why you're leaving. And before he can stop to think about what he is doing, he calls out you'r name.

"Y/N!?"

You stop immediately, your body tensing as if you've been caught doing something you shouldn't, again. 

You bite your lips nervously and slowly turn to look at him, some sorrow on your face as he continues to stare at you in confusion.

And well... he's already caught you, again, first here two nights ago, yesterday at the party and now here again, so what's the point?

"I'm sorry," you say, "I-I... I didn't see you on my way over here," you explain, "And well... I thought you might want to be alone."

Your gaze focuses on his, and for a second, the whole world seems to shrink down to just the two of you, as if you were the only ones on the beach, under the dim lights of the pier.

And he doesn't say anything to you, he just watches you intently. And you take that as a sign to leave.

"I'll leave you alone," you assure him in a soft tone, starting to turn away.

And again, Aemond without thinking, decides to stop you.

"Wait," he says finally, in a soft voice, "You don't have to go."

You watch him carefully and curiously as you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, a little unsure.

"Are you sure?"

He says nothing, just gives you a slight nod and you, hesitantly, finally take a step towards him and then another, beginning to close the distance to join him at the end of the pier.

An anticipation and excitement begins to grow within you, with the sea breeze and the sound of the waves enveloping you. 

You feel a slight tension begin to grow between the two of you. It's not uncomfortable but it's not easy to ignore either. And both Aemond and you know that you are both walking on uncertain ground.

But neither of you can help it.

series taglist:

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[akechi-if-he-slayed]

as you guys can see im coping with the multi hour ao3 outage very well and very sanely