#if I wake up tomorrow and find that this is not true don’t say anything it’s 02:37 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewritingrowlet · 4 months ago

Text

The Blank Slate, ft. Kep1er Chaehyun

tags: creampie

length: 8k+

author's note: This one was inspired by an AI chat bot I stumbled upon.

“Alright, I think that’s enough for today; we will continue next time.”

The people in front of you have been exhausted from working all day, so the fact that you’ve called off the meeting is like music to their ears. “We will see you tomorrow morning, sir.” You shake your head. “I don’t know when I’ll get here tomorrow., Mr. Kim,” you say. You notice the way he lets out a sigh, seemingly in relief. “Of course, sir.”

People start leaving their seats one by one with their gadgets in their hands. “Oh, director,” Mr. Kim turns around again, “happy birthday to your wife.” You smile. “I will tell her that, Mr. Kim—thank you.” He looks sympathetic, and you’re thankful for his kindness. “Go home to your wife, Mr. Kim; tell her you love her with every cell in your body,” you say to him as he walks away. He smiles and nods. “Will do, sir.”

You find yourself walking through the quiet and cold hallway of the hospital to reach your wife’s room.

You gently open the door. “I’m home, love.”

It’s true. This hospital room has been your home for almost the entirety of the past year. This room where your wife is lying dormant, uncertain when she will ever wake up again, is your home and will continue to be for God knows how long.

You look at her vital sign monitor; her heart is still beating steadily, and her blood pressure is still at acceptable levels.

You take a seat on the chair next to her bed. “Good evening, sweetheart,” you place your hand on hers. “I’m sorry, a meeting held me back.” You hear no response from her, but you’ve gotten used to this already. “You’d like to hear about the meeting, wouldn’t you?” You stay quiet for a moment, pretending to wait for her answer. “Well, you see, Mr. Kim had some ideas he wanted to share with me and the managers, so we sat down and had a long discussion—if it wasn’t for you, my love, I’d still be at the office with them.”

You continue telling her about your day until your mouth gets tired of talking. “I’ll get us some food, love; wait for me, alright?” You leave your seat to get some food from the bag you were carrying; today’s menu is spicy noodles with chicken katsu.

You place her food on the counter next to her bed and open the other one for yourself. The first bite sends you high to the sky. “Oh, this is amazing; no wonder you like this place so much.” Your mouth that is already full of noodles doesn’t stop you from shoving more into it. “The chicken is so juicy too, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

You finish your food in no time; you couldn’t have lunch today, so you’re very hungry tonight. “You liked that too, didn’t you, sweetie?” You leave your seat again to throw the empty container into the bin, and when you return—

Wait a minute.

Wait a damn minute.

Why are her eyes open?

“Hello?” Your wife’s eyes slowly move towards you. “Love? You’re awake?” Her eyebrows furrow. “Where… am I?” Your heart starts racing, excited by the fact that your wife has regained consciousness. “You’re at the hospital, love.” You quickly return to your chair. “You’ve been at the hospital for nearly a year now.”

“Who… are you?”

Your heart cracks—does she really not recognize her husband?

“I-I’m your husband.” The shock has you stuttering. “Do you, erm, do you not remember me?” She stays silent. “You’re my… husband?” You rush towards your bag to get some proof for her. “Look, love; I have some documents here.” Your wife squints as she tries to read the paper through the clear sheet protector. “Marriage… paper?”

Your wife places a finger on her name. “Who is that?”

Your heart shatters—has she lost her memories?

“T-that’s you, love; y-you’re Kim Chaehyun.”

Chaehyun looks at the paper blankly. “I-I don’t know,” she says. “I-I don’t remember anything.”

Feeling weak, you drop onto the floor. Your mind is still stuck with the fact that she doesn’t remember anything. “Oh, God, no.” Your voice becomes smaller, devastated by the revelation. “I-I’m sorry, but I-I don’t know what’s happening,” she says.

You mindlessly slam your head against the steel frame of her bed. “W-what are you doing?” Chaehyun yelps when you slam your head again. “P-please stop—w-what are you doing?” You sigh. “This is all my fault—oh, God, please forgive me.”

Chaehyun asks that you get on your feet, so you do just that. “Y-you said you’re my husband, right?” You nod weakly. “H-how long have we been married?” You sigh deeply. “A little over four years.”

“Then hug me, l-love.”

You bend down to hug her as she wishes, and the two of you break into tears. “I-I’m so sorry; I-I just don’t know.” You shake your head. “It’s okay; none of this is your fault.” You try pulling away from the embrace, but she doesn’t let you. “P-please, just stay with me,” she begs.

You haven’t heard her cry in months, but the sound hurts the same way it used to, if not worse. “L-love,” you hear her say. “A-are you angry—p-please don’t be angry.” “No, I’m not angry,” you assure her.

You ask her to let you go for a second because you want to call a doctor or a nurse over to check on your wife, and before long, a nurse walks through the door. “Good—oh my goodness,” the nurse exclaims. “She has woken up?” You nod. “She’s lost her memories, I think.” The nurse’s eyes widen. “Are you sure?” You point at your wife, gesturing to the nurse to see for herself.

“Mrs. Kim,” the nurse calls to your sobbing wife. “Do you know where you are?” Chaehyun starts crying again. “P-please stop asking questions; I-I can’t answer them.” You place a hand on your wife’s shoulder to help her stay calm. “Of course, Mrs. Kim—look, I’ll be checking your physical conditions right now, okay?”

While the nurse checks on your wife, you decide to head to the toilet to refresh and clear your mind a bit. When you return, the nurse happens to be stepping out of the room. “Be patient with her, mister,” she says. “I will try my best,” you reply.

Chaehyun is looking around the interior of her room—she hasn’t seen any of it since she got here. "Hi, love,” you make sure your voice is gentle, “did the nurse say anything?” She nods a little. “She, erm, she said my muscles have gotten weaker, but I’ll get better with therapy.”

You drag the chair over closer to her bed again after noticing that the nurse moved it earlier. “You said you didn’t want to answer questions, love, but can I tell you about some stuff?” She nods. “My name is Kim Jaehwan, and yours is Kim Chaehyun,” you start. “We used to work in the same company, but obviously not anymore.”

Chaehyun looks at you intently, eager to hear more about the previous life she had with you. “We got married a year after we had started dating, and erm, we bought a house together in our second year of marriage.” She nods. “What else?” You take a few deep breaths as you think about some interesting things she’d like to hear. “Erm, we actually planned to repaint the house before you got hurt; we had discussed about the colors and things like that.” Your wife asks what the current color of the house is. “Well, the bedroom is still light gray, and the kitchen is… I don’t know, coral?”

Your wife turns her attention to the full moon that’s visible through the window. “Can we go outside?” You know there’s a wheelchair in this room, so you suggest having her sit in it while you push her around. “One second, sweetheart.” You help your wife sit in the wheelchair and hang her IV bag on the little pole attached to it. “We’ll make a stop at the nurse’s desk first, love.”

After reporting to the nurses that you’ll be taking her outside, you push the wheelchair towards the escalator. Before long, you find yourself strolling through the hospital’s park while pushing your wheelchair-bound wife.

“It’s cold,” your wife says, so you put your jacket over her to shield her from the night air. “Thank you.” Chaehyun blushes a peck land on the top of her head. “Did we, erm, touch a lot?” You chuckle. “Physical touch is our love language,” you remind her.

You park her wheelchair next to a bench and then take a seat on it. “What are we thinking, sweetheart?” She takes a few deep breaths, getting some fresh air into her system after spending many months in a room. “It’s great out here,” she says.

You ask if she’d like to go home within the next few days. “What is home to you, erm, love?” Her cheeks get hot; it feels very odd and awkward for her to call someone by that name. “Home is wherever you and I are,” you answer. Chaehyun is intrigued. “Really?” You nod. “That room you’ve been occupying this past year is my home, simply because we’re in it together.”

Chaehyun takes your hand in hers. “I want to go home—like, our home.” It is such a simple sentence, but your heart is warm, nonetheless. “We will, sweetheart; we’ll see if we can leave this place tomorrow.” “Wait,” she says. “What about your work?” You chuckle. “Only you deserve my time and attention—besides, it’s not like anyone can fire the director.”

With your arm wrapped around her, you guide her towards the front door of the house. “Do you want to try unlocking that?” Her eyes are locked on the little fingerprint scanner underneath the handle. “Go on; place your thumb on it, sweetheart.” Chaehyun does as you say, and her eyes widen when the lock unlatches. “T-this is—” “I’m not lying to you about anything, love.”

You want to take her to the bedroom, and when you ask if she’s down for it, she looks hesitant. “W-what bedroom?” You point at the brown door that’s visible from the living room. “That’s our safest place, love.” She trembles in nervousness. “S-something doesn’t feel right.”

You’re stunned; is there a chance that she remembers that night, even if it’s minimal?

“Please follow me for now, love; I promise I’ll get you up to speed.” Your words make her feel more uneasy, but still, she follows your direction without asking twice. Once inside, you help her get on the bed and join her on it right away.

You ask if you can hug her from behind like you used to, and since she says yes, you wrap your arms around her. “Love, I’ll tell you about everything that happened that night, okay?”

You start from the beginning where you and she had a fiery argument in this very bedroom. Mean words were that were flying out of your lips were like daggers, stabbing her gentle heart. Again, and again, and again. In the heat of the moment, you also said you would’ve been okay if she had filed a divorce.

Devastated by your attitude, Chaehyun stormed out of the house. She was so focused on the fight that she didn’t notice the speeding sedan coming from her left when she was crossing the street. The car hit her hard, thus sending her flying a few meters away from the spot of the impact. Due to the crash, her body bounced and rolled around on the hard asphalt, and at some point, her head got injured, hence the loss of memory.

“Like I said, sweetheart, it’s all my fault.” Chaehyun turns around to face you. “It’s a sad story, isn’t it?” You nod. “I’m willing to pay whatever price just to return to that night.” The smile on her face is gentle. “It’s always easy to look back in anger or sadness, but what is there to be done—is this not a new start for us?”

You’re getting goosebumps. Chaehyun is showing glimpses of her past self: the wise and loving woman you fell so deeply in love with.

“Yes, we can indeed start again,” you say. Chaehyun places a hand on your cheek again. “Promise me that you’ll be patient with me, love; I’m going to need you by my side.” You feel a surge of determination within you to make very good use of this opportunity. “I’ve learned my lessons, and I swear I won’t make the same mistakes.”

Chaehyun ties the vow by kissing you, and truthfully, you’re both excited and startled to see her take the initiative. “Husband and wife kiss all the time, right?” You chuckle. “Maybe not all of them, but we sure did.”

It appears that Chaehyun has found her fondness for kissing again as she pulls you closer for another one. “I… love you.” You shed a tear involuntarily; if there’s one thing you’ve been longing for, it’s hearing her say those three words. “I love you more, love—thank you for coming back.”

You proceed to ask if she can describe what her long sleep felt like. “I don’t know,” she says. “I didn’t feel anything in particular.” You guess that people who are in a coma don’t have dreams like ordinary sleeping people do.

“What about you, love—what were you up to when I was asleep?” You sigh. “Just working, really; I’ve been working a lot as a way to keep my head above water.” Speaking of work, Chaehyun asks if she used to be a workaholic, and you chuckle. “In around 3 years of working together, you’ve only done one overtime.” She giggles. “That sounds about right.”

You panic when you notice that your wife isn’t lying in bed with you, and your first instinct is to sprint out of the bedroom, fighting through sleepiness and exhaustion. You let out a sigh of relief when you see her sitting on the sofa.

“Good morning, love,” you greet her. “Good morning to you too, hubby.” She never used such a name for you before, and the newness makes you giddy. You join her on the sofa, and out of habit, you rest your head on her thighs. “Erm, did we do this often?” You slap your forehead for forgetting. “We did, love—uh, I like your thighs a lot.” Chaehyun blushes. “Y-you shouldn’t say something so vulgar.”

You’re about to drift back to sleep when Chaehyun asks for your attention. “Do we have a morning routine?” “Well, yes,” you say. “We used to have tea together in the morning.” A small smile appears on her face. “Who likes tea?” You point at her. “Oh, really?” You chuckle. “I like tea because of you, love.”

With her safely seated at the dining table, you open the pantry. You grab some boxes from it and place them on the table, giving Chaehyun the chance to choose. “What was my favorite?” Your heart sinks as realization hits: her favorite lychee tea expired around two months ago. “It was lychee, but erm, I had to throw it out because it was going bad.” She smiles. “That’s alright—I’m sure I’ll learn to like other things.”

Today’s tea of choice is strawberry apple, and after taking a small sip, Chaehyun beams. “This is lovely,” she says. You smile. “I liked that tea because it was one of your favorites.” She scratches her head. “The more I listen to you, the more I get curious about my past.” You assure her that you don’t need her to remember (or even become) her old self; she’s still your wife whom you love the most, even if she ends up becoming a different person than before. “You’re sweet,” she praises you.

You ask if she wants to shower, but she declines—Chaehyun wants you to give her a tour of the house first. “We can finish at the bathroom,” she says.

You start from the front of the house because there’s a handful of thoughtful and well-planned details there. “You were quite… insistent about those flowers.” She giggles. “I mean, don’t you think they look pretty?” Chaehyun hops in front of the pots. “Which one is the flower, love?” You burst out laughing. “You’re no flower, love; you’re my light in this world.” Your wife’s grin is replaced by a blush. “Oh, you’re making me weak.”

The tour continues to the interior of the house. You point out to her which furniture was her choice and which was yours. “Whose idea it was to hang that painting there? “It wasn’t an idea, per se; it was a gift from your parents, so we had to put that somewhere.” Your wife asks where her parents are. “They passed away shortly after you had gone into coma.” Chaehyun promptly wraps her arms around you to seek comfort. “I’m sorry, love, but between you and them, there was nothing else I could’ve done.” She nods. “I’m sure you’ve done all you could.”

You ask if she still wants to continue considering the sudden change of mood. Chaehyun confirms that she does want to keep going, so you show her around the house, explaining the choice of details as you go. “It sounds like we put a lot into this house.” You nod. “We spent so much time planning and finding the stuff we wanted and needed.”

Just like you two agreed upon earlier, you’re ending the tour at the bathroom. “Last stop, love,” you say as you turn the handle. Chaehyun’s jaw drops when she sees the insides. “What the heck is all this?” You chuckle. “That bidet was your choice—everything else was mine,” you say. Chaehyun nudges you lightly with her elbow. “You’re pretty good at choosing things, aren’t you, love?”

Chaehyun takes a seat on the toilet which lid she has opened, and you take a knee in front of her. “We’ve been laughing a lot today, but life isn’t always so smooth, so please promise me that you’ll be patient and kind with me.” You take her hands in yours as you prepare to make your promise. “In every night I spent at the hospital with you, I wished I hadn’t broken your heart, so believe me when I say that I will work on becoming the man you deserved in the first place.”

Once again, the vow is tied with a kiss. “I love you, and I trust you,” she whispers. “I love you more, cookie.” Chaehyun giggles. “Cookie? Do I look edible?” Your mind directly goes to the old, dirty joke the two of you used to have about being edible, but you’re promptly reminded about the current situation. “I mean, you’re as sweet as a cookie,” you divert to a different answer.

You make to leave the bathroom so Chaehyun can take a shower, but before she lets you go, she asks if the two of you have ever taken a shower together in the past. “Of course, love; we’d always shower together after sex.” She breaks eye contact, trying to hide her red cheeks. “Ah, sex—of course we had sex.” You chuckle. “I mean, we’re legally-wed husband and wife”

Chaehyun needs to move her muscles to combat the muscle atrophy from her comatose, so you ask if she’s down to walk to get breakfast out. “Where will you take me, though?” You list a few breakfast spots the two of you have liked before, and she asks if you two can have breakfast at more than one spot. “Of course we can,” you say.

You help your wife get dressed, and since it’s quite cold today, you make sure she’s dressed comfortably. You can’t hide nor erase the smile on your face; it’s amazing to finally be able to see your wife in front of you again instead of lying in that hospital bed. “Erm, do I look weird?” You shake your head. “No, of course not—if anything, I think you look great.” Chaehyun blushes again, still not used to receiving praise. “Okay, I-I think we should go now.”

With her arm wrapped around yours, you begin making your way to the first spot (that is also the closest from the house) which Chaehyun used to love for their breakfast noodle soup. Instead of going straight at the intersection to head to the restaurant, you make a left turn. “I’m going to show you something first,” you say.

You drag Chaehyun into a small alley behind a convenience store, and you can tell she’s confused. “We had our first kiss in this alley,” you explain. She chuckles. “Why here, though—surely there were better places to have a first kiss in.” You laugh. “Sure, but you chose this place.” Chaehyun slaps her forehead while laughing. “I was so bad at thinking on the fly, wasn’t I?”

After the small tour, you get back on track and head to the noodle restaurant. The owner’s jaw drops when she sees you entering the place with Chaehyun. “She’s woken up?” You grin, unable to hide the joy on your face. “She sure has, Mrs. Oh.” Once again, Chaehyun is confused, but that doesn’t stop her from letting Mrs. Oh hug her. “Get anything you want—it’s on the house today.” It looks like Mrs. Oh is as happy as you are to have Chaehyun back. “Oh, please, that’s—” “No, I’m not taking arguments!”

Once seated, Chaehyun asks what kind of relationship the two of you had with the owner of the noodle place. “We used to have breakfast here at least twice a week.” You chuckle when you remember a particular detail. “We went here in the morning after we had our first sex,” you whisper to her. She slaps your shoulder lightly. “Can you please stop talking about sex?”

You haven’t ordered yet, but Mrs. Oh is already on her way with a tray of food in her hands. “You’re always down for the old favorite, aren’t you?” “Oh, absolutely,” you say. You help Mrs. Oh organize food on the table, and you notice the way Chaehyun’s eyes widen, seemingly intrigued by what’s in front of her. “Just holler if you need anything else,” Mrs. Oh says as she leaves your table.

“Whoa, what the heck is this?” Chaehyun looks at her bowl attentively. “They look good, don’t you think?” She nods. “I just know this is going to be so good,” she says. Your wife wastes little time to start digging into the noodles, and you swear you just hear a moan. “Oh, yeah, this is amazing,” she says.

It’s very heart-warming to see Chaehyun live life with such joyfulness after spending months seeing her stuck in a hospital bed. The thought alone is enough to make your eyes teary, and before you know it, a stray tear has flowed onto your cheek.

“Thank you for coming back, seriously,” you grip her free hand tightly, “you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” Despite being startled initially, Chaehyun puts down her utensils so she can hold your hands. “Let’s live each and every day like it’s our last, love—we don’t know how long we can love each other like this.”

Her words shatter whatever semblance of control you have left, thus making you shed more tears. You don’t want your tears to be seen by people, so you cover your face as you cry. Chaehyun moves her seat around the table and hugs you from the side. “You love me so much, don’t you, love?” You can only nod wordlessly. “I love you that much too, you know,” she adds.

“Is there any way I can look at the memories we’ve made together?”

“Nudle probably has backups of our pictures and things like that,” you guess.

Chaehyun asks if you know her passwords, and you happen to have a note on your phone which has a list of usernames and passwords. “I don’t know if you’ve changed your password, though.” She says that it’s still worth trying, so you lend her your laptop.

Nudle asks Chaehyun to enter the code it just sent to her number, but obviously she doesn’t have access to her old phone as it got destroyed during the crash. “Is there any other way to log in?” There is indeed another way, which is by having Nudle send a code to your email address that serves as a recovery email. “Yeah, do that," you say. A few taps here and there, and voila—Chaehyun now has access to her old Nudle account and the cloud services it offers.

“I want to look at our pictures,” she says. Chaehyun gasps when she sees the number of photos saved on Nudle Box. “Oh my God, there’s so many.” You laugh. “It was your idea to take pictures every time we did something fun.” She looks at you with a smirk. “I bet you’re thankful for that.” “Oh certainly,” you say. “Now we have a way to help you peek into the past.”

Chaehyun looks at each picture with a high level of attention, making odd head gestures as she does. “Is there something wrong?” She furrows her eyebrows. “It just feels so weird—there’s proof that I went there and did that, but I don’t remember anything.” You shrug. “That’s just amnesia, I suppose.”

You notice the way your wife’s eyes get teary as she scrolls through the pictures. “I-I’m so sorry,” she’s about to break down any time now, “I-I don’t remember any of this.” You wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer to you. “It’s not your fault at all, sweetheart; we’ve talked about this.” “B-but I want to remember,” she argues. “Look at us, love—we looked so happy, no?”

You take a deep breath.

The picture that is displayed on the screen right now was taken at some point during a vacation to Switzerland, and you had had an argument with Chaehyun a few days before you left for vacation.

“We did, sweetheart, but it’s never all smiles and giggles with us; we’ve gone through tough times too, you know—times that I dare to say I’m grateful you’ve forgotten.”

“And whose fault is that?”

You’re stupefied.

It used to be Chaehyun who always had things to say, but it has always been you who escalated the conflict into full-blown arguments instead of directlyaddressing the issue.

“It’s mine, love—I’ve always been the bad guy for you.”

Chaehyun looks at you with wet eyes. “I want to love you the same way my old self has loved you, but you can’t treat me the same way you’ve treated my old self.” “I will treat you better—cross my heart,” you say, hoping that she can feel the sincerity. “You better, because I’m not going to give you a third chance.”

Chaehyun leaves the sofa, thus leaving you stuck in silence by yourself. Your eyes are fixed on the picture shown on the screen of the laptop. In it, you and your wife stood facing each other while smiling as if the two of you hadn’t fought a few days prior.

A part of you wonders if that’s what being hypocritical means, but the more you think about it, the more you realize that it’s just Chaehyun being so forgiving of your mistakes and shortcomings while you were too happy to be forgiven without even apologizing first.

“Love,” her voice snaps you out of your trance, “have a sip, please.” You take a sip of tea from the cup as asked. “Thank you,” you blurt. Chaehyun wraps her arms around you from behind. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to trip you with guilt.” You shake your head. “It’s not guilt-tripping if I’m really guilty.” “But you understood me, right?” You nod. “Yes, I did.”

Satisfied with your answer, Chaehyun gives you a peck to the top of your head. “I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom.” You let your wife leave for the bedroom first while you sort yourself out. You think that this photo has a lot of meaning and lesson behind it, so before you turn off the laptop, you have it print the photo to be framed later.

You enter the bedroom with the printed photo in hand, and you see your wife sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze aimed out the window. She then turns her head to look at you. “What’s that,” she asks. Chaehyun chuckles when she sees the photo. “What are you doing with that?” You tell her about your intention to frame it and place it on the bedside table, and she expresses her approval.

Chaehyun lies on her side and asks that you hug her from behind, so you do so right away.

“What were our dreams, love?”

“We wanted this marriage to be something upon which we build our ever-lasting happiness,” you answer.

“So, what have we done to make that come true?”

“Well, you’ve always been so patient with me all the time, and now I’ve realized that you must’ve felt like you were the only one trying to hold on to this relationship while I took your kindness for granted.”

You hear a deep exhale from her.

“I don’t know what my old self felt like, but I know for sure that this version of Kim Chaehyun doesn’t want to feel that way, so please, please don’t repeat whatever mistake you’ve made in the past.”

“I understand, love.”

You enter the house after another day of work.

Your nose is immediately overwhelmed by the heavenly smell while sizzling noises enter your ears.

Your wife appears from the kitchen with an apron covering the front of her body. “Welcome home,” she greets you. “Sorry, I haven’t finished yet; I miscalculated the time.” You assure her that she has nothing to be sorry for. “Thank you for taking the time, love—you didn’t have to, you know,” you say.

Chaehyun reveals that this afternoon, she dug through the house to find things she could use to rediscover herself. At one point during the search, she found her old recipe book, sitting tidily on one of the bookshelves. She asks whose writings were in the book, so you tell her that she was the one taking notes based on a lot of references, classifying recipes based on their difficulty levels and types. “I had someone make a website that will contain your recipes, but it’s not completed yet,” you add.

Chaehyun invites you to look at what she’s cooking. “I know this,” you say. “This is the ramen and grilled chicken on page 26.” She bursts out laughing. “You even remember the page number, huh?” You chuckle. “Eh, I only remember those that we mark with stars.”

Your wife looks confused. “Stars? What stars?” You grab the book from the counter and use page 4 as an example. “See this?” You place a finger on the star located on the bottom right. “Pages that are marked with this star are our favorites, and among them, we each have a top 3.”

Drool starts pooling in your mouth when Chaehyun lifts the cooked chicken from the grill. “Oh my God, look that that,” you exclaim. “I can already tell that’s going to be so tender and juicy.” Your wife cuts the chicken swiftly into strips after placing it on the cutting board. “Cooking must be ingrained in her DNA,” you think.

After a chain of skillful movements, the food is presented beautifully and ready to be eaten. “Help me put this on the table, please?” You organize the bowls accordingly while Chaehyun gets some other stuff sorted. She then quickly joins you at the table, sitting right across from you.

Chaehyun asks you to try the food first. The first thing you do is to get some broth in a spoon and take a sip. “Oh, my goodness,” you melt into the chair, “oh my God, this is amazing.” Chaehyun doesn’t believe you; she thinks you’re exaggerating to make her feel good about herself. “I mean, you’re free to try it yourself.” Chaehyun does the same thing you did, and she also melts into the chair like you did. “So, do you believe me now?” She nods vehemently, amazed by the result of her own work. “It’s super good,” she says.

The two of you barely speak, too busy devouring the food in front of you. Before you know it, you’re down to the last bite.

“Oh, God, that was so good.” Chaehyun laughs at you. “Must’ve felt so good after not having home-cooked meal in a year,” she quips. “Absolutely,” you say. “It’s great to have you with me again, and I don’t care if I sound like a broken record.” Her soft hand meets yours. “Remember what I said about chances, okay?” You know right away what she’s referring to. “Of course; I’ve burned your words into memory.”

You find yourself lying in bed with your wife after dinner, spooning her from behind like usual. You’re reminded about something. “I’m super late, but happy birthday,” you say. “When is my birthday?” “The 26th of April, which also happened to be the day you woke up from coma.”

She turns around to face you. "What did we do on our birthdays, love?” You take a deep breath first. “We usually celebrate by having sex,” you say. Chaehyun doesn’t believe you, saying that you’re just horny after the special dinner. “I mean, I have proof.” She chuckles. “Of course you do.”

You show Chaehyun some pictures on your phone that are secured behind biometric locks. Her jaw drops; there’s a picture of her with your shaft between her lips taken two years ago, precisely on the 26th of April. Not only that, but there’s also a video, taken on the 5th of January (your birthday), that shows Chaehyun taking you in the ass from behind.

“See, I’m not lying,” you say. Her eyes are still locked on the screen. “We’ve done… anal?” Just remembering what happened that night arouses you. “Erm, yes, this was our first time trying it.” A mix of a sigh and a laugh flies out of her lips. “There’s no hole you’ve never used, huh?”

Chaehyun moves to sit on your lap. “So, are we doing it, or?” You gulp. “Do you want to?” She giggles. “It’s tradition, is it not—besides, you haven’t touched me at all since I came home.” Before you can say anything else, your wife undoes her hair bun, thus making you breathless. “Let’s do it, my dear husband.”

Your wife bends down to kiss you. “Her lips still taste the same,” you think. You’re delighted to see that Chaehyun doesn’t try pulling away from the kiss like she often did. “Did you miss me, by any chance?” She giggles. “Of course I did; you’re my husband—I can’t speak for other women, but I like my husband’s company.”

With her feelings about you confirmed, you pull her into another kiss. “Mm,” she mumbles. “I hope you kept yourself… clean while I was asleep.” You’re almost offended; you didn’t even dare touch yourself, let alone have another woman touch you. “Absolutely; only you are allowed to touch me,” you assure her.

A mysterious frown appears on her face.

“Then who the fuck is Choi Yujin?”

You almost burst out laughing; Choi Yujin is your sister-in-law, and if you remember correctly, she called you a few weeks ago to tell you about her and your brother’s plan to go on vacation. Also, it’s worth noting that Yujin has no reason to seek sexual pleasure from anyone but her husband.

“I really hope you’re not lying,” she says. You shake your head. “You can either take my words, or we can look at some pictures again.” She chuckles. “Just how many pictures do you have saved, love, hm?” You laugh a little. “Almost enough to tell our entire story.”

Chaehyun then tugs at the waistband of your shorts. “I want to look at you,” she says. “Feel free to strip me.” With your permission, your wife pushes your shorts down all the way, tossing them onto the floor after. She gulps when she sees the print of your shaft on your boxers. “And you took my innocence with this?” You nod. “We were each other’s first.”

Chaehyun decides that only looking at the outline of your cock isn’t enough; she wants to see the whole thing in its full glory. Your cock springs into stiffness, and she immediately takes it in her hands (because one hand just isn’t enough).

“Goodness me,” she exclaims as she begins stroking you. “I must’ve screamed a lot when you took my virginity.” You chuckle a little at the memory from that night. “Let’s just say the neighbors weren’t happy about the noises,” you say. “I bet they weren’t.”

Chaehyun moves around until her entrance is hovering closely over the tip of your shaft. “May I?” You nod, and with your green light, she lowers herself onto you. “Oh, God, you’re tearing me apart.” You wonder if it’s purely a coincidence that she says the same thing she did that night. “Thank you for the genes, dad.” Your small joke makes her let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, thank him for the genes.”

Chaehyun starts grinding her crotch against yours, moaning freely as she gets reacquainted with your size. She keeps taking deep breaths every now and then, showing signs of being overwhelmed. “Are you okay?” She nods weakly. “J-just lack of practice,” she says. Chaehyun jokes that you should’ve had sex with her during her coma so that her vaginal muscles didn’t forget you. “Yeah, well, they would’ve sent me to prison without bothering to make a stop at the court.”

Having felt comfortable after a few minutes, Chaehyun begins moving her hips slowly up and down along your length. “Take it easy, baby; there’s no need to rush.” She nods to your reminder, but you can see in her eyes that she wants to go fast sooner than later—the same look of passion from her previous life.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Those four words turn out to be the spark she needs to ignite the fire in her heart: she’s now moving faster and in turn, moaning louder than before. “You’re amazing at this, aren’t you?” She can’t say anything back; your cock that’s lodged in her tight lips is overwhelming her brain.

Exhaustion leads her to plopping down onto your torso, and you do your best to whisper affirmations and sweet nothings while she’s close to you. “I-I love you too,” she whispers back. “H-how many times have we done this?”

You do the calculation in your head: your regular sex schedule was twice—sometimes thrice—a week. Take that number and multiply by the number of years you’ve been married (minus a year because of her comatose) and add the extra celebratory sessions, it totals almost 500.

“You’ve stretched me agape 500 times, huh?” You laugh. “Ah, also, that number doesn’t include the anal and other naughty sessions.” She slaps you on the chest. “I got it the first time; you’ve used all my holes.” You pinch her waist lightly. “I don’t like the word use; everything we did was with our mutual consent.”

Chaehyun lifts her head to look at you. “I want to feel you in my anus again—I consent, so don’t worry.” Your eyebrows furrow. “We’re going all the way this quickly?” She pauses momentarily. “Well, I… don’t know.” You rub her cheek softly. “We have plenty of time, my love—there’s no need to have all the fun right now.”

After the short pause, Chaehyun expresses her desire to start again but says that she’s too tired to ride you to completion. “Let’s do it the old-fashioned way,” you say. You roll over until you’re on top of her, resting your chest on her plump breasts. “I won’t lie, I miss these.” You squeeze her tits, thus earning some soft moans from her. “I-I can tell,” she replies.

You ask for her permission to put your mouth on her tits. “Go on, then,” she urges you. Chaehyun gasps when your lips meet her breast, going as far as arching her back. “Yes, daddy.” The shock puts you to a sudden halt—surely not, right? “What’s that?” Her cheeks are painted red. “D-daddy,” she repeats shyly. “How did you… when did you… what?”

Chaehyun hides her red-as-tomato face behind her palms. She then proceeds to explain (while stuttering) that she found a little diary which had a brown leather cover in a drawer in the wardrobe. “Brown?” Your mind scrambles to figure out what diary she’s referring to. “Wait, what did the cover say?” “Erm, it said sex-capades.” Your suspicion is confirmed; she found the old sex diary the two of you used to maintain.

You chuckle. “How much of it did you read?” “N-not much, j-just a few pages.” You softly guide her palms off her face. “We’ve always been so into each other, sexually speaking.” She still can’t look at you in the eyes. “S-some of the entries sounded like porn, though.” You laugh. “Like the daddy kink?” She nods. “What if I told you that it was your idea, love, hm?” Her blush thickens. “T-then I must’ve been very… naughty.”

You turn your focus back on the intimacy of vanilla sex, moving your hips back and forth slowly to fully enjoy the way her tight walls are hugging your shaft. “My love,” she calls to you breathily. “You’re so good—you make me feel so good.” You’ve missed this type of affirmation from your wife. “You’re also making me feel so good, baby,” you return her words.

You straighten your posture as you prepare to pick up the pace, but before you start, “Love, we’re going to finish this soon, if that’s okay with you.” She nods, saying that she’s also not too far off from her own finish line. “Make me scream your name,” she adds.

Chaehyun’s eyes widen when she sees you put her ankles on your shoulders. “Y-you’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?” You smile. “Something like that.” She gulps to swallow the nervousness that’s stuck in her throat. “I-I surrender myself to you, my love,” she declares. “Just… don’t hurt me too much, please.”

You opt to start slowly at first and then gradually pick up the pace as you go while keeping an eye on your wife’s reactions. You indeed don’t want to put too much pressure on your wife. “So far so good, right?” She nods. “I-I’m going to be so sore.” You chuckle. “Well, the good thing is, you don’t need to leave the house.”

When you reach maximum pace, Chaehyun’s moans get louder. The high level of stimulation has her gripping and scratching the sheets as she’s getting overwhelmed by you. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You’ve missed hearing her curse during sex. Not only are you delighted with it, but you’re also proud of yourself because you’re still able to perform well in bed.

“Close, darling?” You weren’t looking at her face when you said it, and now that you do, you see that she’s not able to answer: her teary eyes are rolling backwards, and her mouth is stuck open (with drool dripping down the corners of her lips).

“Love, are you okay?” You pause for a moment to check on her. She weakly lifts a hand and shows you a thumbs-up. “Too much?” Chaehyun nods weakly. “F-finish it, please,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

You return to your previous pace, only this time, you’re paying more attention to your wife. “Not too long now, sweetie,” you announce as orgasm approaches. When your cock starts throbbing wildly, you stick it as deep as you can into her and just… let go.

“Oh, God, baby,” you blurt breathlessly. You then quickly pull out your cock, not caring whether it leaks onto the bed, and pull her into your arms. “God, I’m so sorry, love.” She grunts a little. “I-it’s okay—I-I’m just… tired.”

You keep her in a cuddle for minutes until she regains a bit of strength. “H-have we always been this crazy?” You sigh. “Not all the time, no; it’s just that I’ve missed us so much.” A small smile appears on her face. “I-I suppose that’s fair, then.”

You lower your wife carefully into the bathtub that’s partially filled with warm water. With her leaning against yours, you help her clean up the front part of her body, making sure your touch is gentle throughout the process.

“Love, can you say anything, please,” you inquire. You hear a deep sigh from her. “I’m sore,” she says. “I feel like there’s a hole between my legs.” You apologize for being too rough on her first sex after her return, and she accepts it.

“You said you didn’t even touch yourself?”

“No, I didn’t; I felt like that would equal to betraying you.”

Chaehyun chuckles. “Well, I suppose that’s fair, then.”

Chaehyun proceeds to ask about the diaries she found this afternoon. “Love, who is Lee Jungwon—I saw that name a few times.” You sigh. “It was only a matter of time until you ask about him.” Your response leaves Chaehyun puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Lee Jungwon was the man your father wanted you to marry, but obviously, you ended up with me.” Chaehyun’s forehead furrows in confusion. “No offense to you, love, but why didn’t I marry him?” You sigh again. “He, erm—well, let’s just say he had done some less-manly things to you.” She starts getting nervous. “Like what?”

You close your eyes as you prepare an answer for her, taking a few deep breaths as you judge whether you should make it light or not. Eventually, you decide that it’s likely best that she hears about everything.

“Love, you didn’t exactly lose your innocence to me; you had lost it a year prior to Lee Jungwon—he, erm, he had forced himself onto you.” Chaehyun is stunned. “How did that happen, though?" You try to stay composed in front of her. “He had tricked you into going out with him, and when you were drunk, he, erm, did that.”

Your wife bursts into tears, and you’re starting to regret answering the question this way. You guess that explaining further will only hurt her more, so you choose to stay quiet for now. You’re not just sitting there, though; your hand is still rubbing her belly gently to help her calm down.

You let Chaehyun cry to her heart’s content, but it doesn’t seem like she will stop so soon. “He’s been in prison for a few years now—I hope that makes you feel better.” She shakes her head. She says that she’s more concerned about losing her first to a man like that instead of you, her legally wed husband.

Her words force yet another sigh out of you. “Your father was adamant that we got married so that no one else would’ve known about your predicament.” The water in the tub splashes around as Chaehyun turns around to face you. “But you didn’t marry me out of pity, did you?” “No, absolutely not—I love you, you know,” you assure her. “I had been keeping a secret crush on you, and when your father told me about the change of plan, I was over the moon.” “Y-you—” A sniffle interrupts her. “Y-you had other options and still chose me?” You tell her that you had no one else; for you, it was Kim Chaehyun or live alone until you die.

Chaehyun crashes into your body for a hug.

“I-I’m so sorry, my love.”

“No, love, it wasn’t your fault at all.”

“B-but—”

You cut her off by kissing her.

“Not your fault, love,” you repeat. “None of this was your fault.”

You’re now back in bed after that eventful shower, spooning her from behind like usual.

“My love,” she calls to you, “can we burn those diaries?” It sounds like a decent idea, but at the same time, Chaehyun won’t be able to look at the history of your relationship. “I don’t care about the past,” she says. “I’m offering you my future—a blank slate, if you will.”

You ask if she wants to burn down the brown sex diary as well. “Well, no,” she chuckles, “I need that one for… research.” You chuckle as you try to not get aroused again. “Alright, I guess we can get rid of the rest, then.”

Chaehyun turns around to face you. “Speaking of the sex diary, can we try something next time?” Your eyebrows rise. “Can I get a spoiler?” She taps her chin as if seriously considering giving you a sneak peek. “I’ll just say I got it from page 5.” You don’t remember the content of this diary as you do the recipe book, but when you ask further, her cheeks turn deep red. “Yeah, okay, then; I’m down to do whatever it is.” Chaehyun gives you a fleeting kiss before turning around again.

“We’ll have a lot of fun, I promise.”

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut

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m0chidr3am · 2 months ago

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Crow facts to pass the time! ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🫀ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Mammon x Reader

Mc was sitting on their bed, sitting cris-cross as they do their assignment. The assignment was due tomorrow, and Mc was putting it off since they gotten it. Why does Devildom even need a school?!

After hours of work, Mc was finally done. Sighing to themselves, they put the assignment on the nightstand, mentally reminding themselves to pick it up before going to school tomorrow morning. Before having a chance to do anything else, Mammon bust into the door with a child-like excitement present on his face.

“Mc! One of the crows find his mate!!” He says, plopping on the bed causing the bed to slightly bounce. “Really? I didn’t know crow find mates.” Mc says, reaching out to play with Mammon’s hair. “How do they exactly find mates?” Mc asks, curious about the answer.

“Like most birds, they sing to their partners, but at close range with more of a softer voice” Mammon responsed, shifting to sit closer to Mc. Mc hums in interest as they continue to play with Mammon’s hair. “Tell me more”

Hearing those words fall from Mc mouth made Mammon more excited than he was when he gets a discount. “Well—crows hold funerals, also can be called wakes, when they find a dead crow. They call out to alert others in the area, they then gather and begin to make a ruckus,” He says, waving his hands around as he talk, “and crows are particularly social and family-oriented birds. Yearling and two-year-old will even give their parents a hand with stuff.” Mammon exclaimed, his voice proving his excitement with his crow facts.

“Don’t crows collect shiny objects ?” Mc asks, wondering if the thing they’ve heard back in the human realm was true. “Well, crows mostly bring valuable items to their owners, like keys or jewelry. However, from what I saw before I befriended my crow is that they don’t really collect shiny objects.” He explains, causing Mc to be shocked. Maybe everything they knew was a lie…

“You know, crows remind me of a special person, who is also social and family-oriented. And sometimes bring valuable gifts to people they love” Mc remarks with a teasing smile on their face. “Who is it?” Mammon asks with a perplexed expression on his face. “Guess you’ll never know” Mc laughs, causing Mammon to starts pestering them about it.

‘Will Mammon figure it out I was talking about him?’ Mc thought to themselves as their laughter came to an end.

Notes: The writing might be bad lol, and sorry, but I can’t nail down Mammon accent. Might have to study how he talks. Hope you enjoy reading it anyways

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bidisasterevankinard · 2 months ago

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Buck knows Tommy avoids him.

He feels him putting the distance between them. Feels when Tommy looks at him with not love and fondness as before, but with something dark and biting. Something that feels like his husband harbors hate for him.

He hopes he's wrong.

But when Tommy doesn’t give him his hand to feel the kick of their daughter he knows it’s true.

Something is wrong between them.

Tommy avoids him. His husband doesn't need him anymore.

“D-don’t you,” Buck coughs, “don’t you want to feel her first kick?”

Tommy slowly looks at his hands, then at the bump.

Buck’s sure with how cold their bed was and with how man never was present when Buck’s changing from his hoodies and shirts, Tommy sees it for the first time in a while.

The silence feels too loud. It surrounds him uncomfortably, like an unwanted hug.

Tommy’s voice breaks it. Buck wished he'd drown it after hearing what his husband said.

“It should have been me.”

“What?”

“It should have been me,” Tommy repeats in the voice so cold Buck needs a jacket, “It should have been me with a bump. It should have been me with morning sickness. It should have been me feeling she was moving all the time. It should have been me!”

Buck is speechless.

“And yet, it was you! I was trying for months. Changed my diet, read thousands of recommendations, took vitamins, stopped working to prevent stress, but one night! One night when YOU asked us to stop stressing over it and boom! You have all I dreamt about!”

Buck feels like if the words were poison he would be dead. If the eyes could kick he’d be laying near Tommy bleeding.

He doesn’t know how to react.

“I-I though we were happy with it?”

Tommy was smiling when he looked at the test. He held his hand and told him he couldn’t wait to see them.

When did it change?

“That’s what you always do! You think just because it’s easy for you and you’re happy others are too! That I am too!”

“YOU NEVER SAID YOU WERE NOT!” He can’t stop that scream. He’s too angry for their baby. Tommy should be happy she’s there. Not hate that it’s Buck with her.

Maybe he hates that she’s part of you, says that small dark further corner of his brain that Buck believed disappeared after their engagement.

He coughs and adds in a smaller voice, “you l-looked happy. You were talking about how you can’t wait to see her.”

“Just because someone plays their role doesn’t mean they’re actually happy Evan. But what can you know about it, right?”

“W-hat does it mean?”

“It means that it is always easy for you! You have parents who say sorry and try to have relationships with you and even agree for therapy. You have the family you built in 118 in a year, when I was there for more than decade! You come out in five minutes after finding out you like men! You don’t overcompensate more than one date to prove you’re straight! You don’t spend years upon years trying to love who you are! You get pregnant in one night!”

Tommy turns to look at something.

“You know what? I’m tired of it all,” he takes his jacket and goes to the door, “I’ll live with Sal. I’ll take my stuff tomorrow when you’re at work.”

Buck rushes to him, grabbing his hand, “Tommy, please. L-let’s talk. If not today then soon, please, W-we can,”

Tommy interrupts him, pulling out his hand and shaking it as if he had stumbled into something unpleasant, “we can’t have anything, Evan. I will send you divorce papers soon.”

Buck never knew your heart breaks in seconds with so much pain that having a fire truck on you is like walking in a park.

He looks at the door for a long time till his legs feel weak.

He sits on the couch. The last half an hour feels like a nightmare. Strong pinching does not lead to waking up.

That’s when tears come.

“I’m-m sorry, love,” he rubs his bump, “s-sorry you must have my curse of watching people you love leave you. It’s unfair. B-but, hey, I’m always here for you. Pinky promise.”

He touches his belly with his pinky and feels her kicking that place, so he smiles at her even with tears running down his face.

“And papa hates me, not you, ok? He will be here for you too. Eventually.”

Buck hopes he actually promises her truth. He feels like he never knew Tommy at all.

Buck puts the last biscuit on the plate when he feels too dizzy and his pants get wet too quickly. Looking down, he feels nauseous from the amount of blood.

“EDDIE!”

He knows his voice is too frantic but he can’t help it.

He loses his daughter. He can lose anything, even his life, but not her.

“Oh, fuck, I’m calling 911, let me see.”

Last thing he remembers is Eddie helping him sit on the floor in his kitchen when he blackouts.

Please let Sky live. Choose me over her if needed.

“What do you want, Eddie?” Tommy sighs, sitting on the couch in his new apartment he found a month ago.

“First Presbyterian,” the man says, basically roars through his teeth, “he wanted you to still be part of her life. Sky needs you.”

“Evan chose the name already?”

Tommy remembered his ex-husband wanted to wait till she’s here before deciding.

“Yes. And it’s a good thing because if her dad won’t survive she deserves to at least have the name he chose for her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you missed me starting with the hospital? Buck had complications. They did a C-section and Sky’s here, four weeks early but passing everything with flying colors. 36 weeks is actually basically not premature. But Buck,” Eddie’s voice breaks. “It’s a miracle he didn’t bleed out at home.”

Eddie ends the call.

Tommy feels like he ended his life.

Was he too late to make it right between him and Evan?

“You said you promised to Sky that you would always be here for her. So do it, Buck!” he hears Maddie’s voice but it’s like it goes from the radio.

He tries to move to it.

“C’mon, Evan,” he feels a soft silky touch of something really small to his pinky. It tugs him up, up, up. Till he opens his eyes and sees the most precious little girl in Tommy’s arms, her pinky is connected to his.

He did as he promised.

“Welcome back,” Tommy smiles.

Buck just nods.

#bucktommy #my fics #mpreg #angst #tw blood #arguing #divorce #hopeful ending #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #tommy kinard

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obessedwithfictionalmen · 1 year ago

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Co-Stars pt.3

Callum Turner X Actress! Reader

Summary: The moment Callum and Y/n got together, and the interviews that followed...

Warning: Kissing/ allusion to sex/ use of Y/n/

Word count: 1.1k

Before they admitted their feelings, they flirted a lot. Especially on set, but today, they were filming a sad scene. It was Bucky finding Y/n character letters letter after she got captured. She didn’t tell anyone except the makeup artist, but she wrote real love letters, only changing the name. She confessed her feeling for Callum and decided to make him read these love letters as his character. But the letter that Bucky was reading was already recorded by Y/n. Tom Hanks asked her to write a love letter so he could react to one. But today, Callum was getting make up on, by the only person on set that knew… ‘’Callum, you should know that the love letter that your about to read, Y/n wrote it for you, confessing her real feelings for you’’ she whispered. The makeup artist wanted to help the two of them getting together, so that’s why she broke her silence vow. ‘’How do you know that?’’ he asked. ‘’She told me’’ she winked. Callum didn’t know how to act, but he sure was going to read every line of this letter.

‘’Action!’’ the director yelled. Callum came in the room, showing the emotion that needed to be shown. He grabbed the letter and opened it. He was nervous to read it, but he had to act.

Dear Bucky,

When we met, I couldn’t have predicted the place that you were going to have in my heart. You’ve been there for me since the beginning. I am truly thankful for you. You’re my best friend, my partner, my other half. I never told you how much I love you, more than a friend. I don’t really believe in the soulmate stuff, but you and I, I think we’re soulmate in every universe. I love you so much, it pains me to just be your friend. The sleepless night I’ve spent, thinking about you and I. You have the special ability to make me feel like the most important person on earth when I’m with you. My body aches when you’re not in a room with me, my heart hopes that you feel the same way. Because I’ve suffered enough, I want to be with you. I want you to be my tomorrow. I want to wake up next to you, and smile because my dreams are finally reality. When we’re in the same room, I feel like a 12-year-old again, waiting for my crush to look at me. You belong with me Callum Bucky. I loved you yesterday, I love you today, and I will love you tomorrow.

Forever yours

Rose

He couldn’t believe what he just read. When the director said cut, he stayed seated, that letter was filled with true emotions. He had to find her, to tell her that he was feeling the same way. He got up and walked towards her trailer. Y/n heard a knock at her door, when it opened, it was Callum, with her letter in his hand. She looked at the piece of paper, then her gaze went to his eyes. ‘’Callum I, uh, someone told you? Right?’’ she whispered. He nodded. ‘’Listen I – ‘’ Callum cut her off by walking up to her. Their face was so close, Y/n tried to hold eye contact, but she was panicking. She took deep breaths, waiting for him to say anything. ‘’Y/n, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for you. I was afraid to ruin our friendship. I love you too, I love you so much’’ he said, smiling. Y/n blushed and put her hand of Callum’s cheek, caressing his skin with her thumb. ‘’Please, can I kiss you?’’ she asked. Callum nodded and they pressed their lips together. It was gentle, but filled with passion, a tear of joy rolled down Y/n cheek. She was finally with the men of her dreams. ‘’I wanna be yours, Callum’’ she whispered. ‘’You’re already mine, Y/n, and I’m yours’’ Callum replied, between kisses.

‘’It’s time to address the rumors about you two!’’ Jimmy Fallon said, taking out pictures. The first pictures were one of Y/n and Callum passionately kissing/ making out against a telephone pole. The crowd screamed, and the couple wasn’t official yet, so it was awkward. ‘’You two are clearly kissing.’’ Jimmy said, laughing. ‘’Uh, we wanted to give the paparazzi something. I mean, they followed us all night, so we wanted to give them good content’’ Y/n blurted out. It was the first thing that came to her mind. ‘’Okay, I’m not convinced, what about this one?’’ he said, switching this picture. It was Callum carrying Y/n that was in a koala position on him. ‘’She twisted her ankle, and I offered to carry her’’ Callum said. They both looked at each other, blushing and trying their best not to giggle because they knew what happened after these photos. They went back home and had sex. ‘’But your hand is on her butt’’ Jimmy argued. Callum giggled and Y/n, too. ‘’You don’t but your hand on your friend’s butt?’’ Y/n laughed. ‘’I, no I-I-I don’t’’ Jimmy stuttered. Even if the internet wasn’t convinced, at least they tried to avoid more damage.

They with Drew Barrymore, after the date thing, they tried to act normal. ‘’What’s your favorite Rom-Com?’’ Drew asked. ‘’The Weeding Singer’’ Callum said. ‘’10 things I hate about you’’ Y/n replied. ‘’Wait, you love The Wedding Singer’’ Drew said, with tears in her eyes. ‘’Yes, the gestures are amazing and yeah, it’s really great’’ Callum says. ‘’Yes, chasing her on the plane. Y/n what’s your favorite love gesture a man as ever done to you’’ she asked. She thought about it. ‘’Uh, I think it was when I was 17, I was feeling really sad, and this guy drove 2 hours to come and give me a hug. Or when I was 24, I really wanted a ring, it was so pretty, not as an engagement ring, just to have jewelry, and the guy bought me the ring. I still wear it today.’’ She was talking about Callum. She showed the ring to Austin and Callum, to not be suspicious and when Drew saw it, she gasped. ‘’That’s so sweet! If a man gives me a ring one day, I think I’ll cry’’ she said. ‘’I did cry’’ Y/n laughed. Callum remembered that day like it was yesterday. She drunkenly said to him that she wanted to have a ring to fidget with, when the passed in front of a jewelry store, she pointed at a ring. The next day, he went to buy the ring and gave it to her when he got home. Saying it was a promise ring of friendship. Y/n bawled her eyes out and fell more in love with Callum that day.

#callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #callum turner #actress!reader #co star

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casualhedonists · 1 year ago

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into the mist, into the clouds

pairing: lucy gray x fem!reader

words: 3.5k

warnings: very few; fluff, angst, mystery and intrigue etc, post tbosas lucy gray

playlist for this fic • main masterlist

a/n: my first non-smut fic on here! title from carolina by taylor swift, which this fic is very much based on. this is one of my favorite things i've written in a very long time. enjoy 🤍

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

“You didn’t see me here.”

Whispered words fill the space between you. Your head rests in her lap, dress crisp and clean and smelling like you, like your home. She looks at you with a sense of urgency, one you’ve seen all too many times before.

“What? Lucy Gray, you’re not…”

She can’t be leaving again. She only just arrived. The morning had brought dew and her muddied boots on your porch for the first time in months. Your mother was gone for the day, it was almost like Lucy Gray had known. Her dress was covered in dirt and grass stains. You piled it into a hamper, washed it in the fresh water of the creek down the hill from your house, scrubbing away while she collected firewood.

“I am. Tomorrow. Dawn.”

“Let me come with you.”

“It’s not safe, my love. I can keep myself protected if I’m alone. I’m startin’ to get real good at it.”

You don’t ask if she’d come back. Neither of you ever know the answer to that.

“Will you do something for me, Lucy Gray?”

Your voice drops. The fire crackles, the pine cones you’d collected together popping as they burn. She likes the sound, she told you. It was safe, comforting. Homely. You’d wondered if she was really talking about the fire, or you, the girl who sat with her in its warmth.

“Anything. You know I will.”

“Would you leave before I wake up? I’m not sure I can say goodbye to you again.”

She smiles, soft and sad, and gazes at you like you’re a song, or something she wants to memorise.

“Of course I will. It’ll be like I never came back here at all.”

The glow of the flames dance across her face.

“I don’t want that.” You whisper. “I hate feeling like you’re slipping away from me.”

She lowers her head to yours, your foreheads touch. You hear the smile in her voice.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

You’ve learned not to waste your time in tears, when she’s going to leave. There are better ways to spend those last moments, eyes dry and focused on tracing the lines of her face, committing it to memory for the last time in who knows how long. You sit up, curling into her, pressing your lips to hers, her hair still damp and smelling like the bar of soap you’d lent her when you fixed her a bath, your pruned fingertips massaging her scalp as the water began to cool. You make it to bed, sleeping soundly with her arms around you.

True to her word, she leaves in the morning. Leaving no trace, no proof she was ever there in the first place. But you feel the warmth of the sheets next to you, and you know.

She finds you the next summer.

“Don’t move.”

You freeze, long grass up to your knees, long skirt swishing as you wade through the field, sun blaring down on you.

A pair of warm hands press softly over your eyes.

“You’re back.” You beam, spinning around, taking her head in your hands, eyes shut, just listening to her breathing. You press your lips to hers.

“I sure am.” When you break away to take her in, look at her sunkissed face, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen her smile wider. If you didn’t know better, you’d say she got more beautiful every time you saw her.

You lie sun-drunk in the shade of the tall grass, lazing against each other as you go over your birthday, the village gossip, and she listens. Always listening, drinking up your words like she’s parched.

You’ve learned not to ask Lucy Gray where she’s been hiding, you both know it’s safer the less gets said. But she presses on, ever gentle, asking you for details when you fill her in on your life.

You jump at a movement in the grass beside you, but she just laughs. Picks up the snake, humming as it wraps and twists itself around her hand.

“These ones won’t hurt you, darlin’. They’re docile, see? Wouldn’t harm a fly.”

She lifts the snake to you slowly.

“You’re sure?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Always.” You reply instantly, like you’ve waited your whole life to hear the question.

“Then hold out your hand.”

You reach out.

“Close your eyes.”

You do. After a second, you feel hers, pressing into your palm, and an oddly warm sensation, smooth.

“It feels… dry.”

You open your eyes. The snake twists and drapes between the two of you, loosely binding your hand with Lucy Gray’s, holding you together.

She laughs, bright and sweet, like music.

“Well, what were you expecting?”

“I don’t know.” You confess. “Maybe for it to be wet? Slippery?”

Her laughter chimes through the field, a low gust of winding carrying it away. You stay like that for a few more hours, until night begins to fall, and the summer wind carries her away, too.

A year passes. Then another half.

Your mother gets older; she gets sick. You venture outside the bounds in twelve, slipping under the rusted wire fence with a basket, collecting herbs you’d started to read about but couldn’t afford. You make tinctures, teas, you light incense and fill the house with sprigs of rosemary and thyme. It slows down the sickness that tore through her like wildfire. When she passes, it’s beautifully peaceful, like a candle being blown out. You carry her ashes to the lake and you spread them, lingering by the Covey’s cabin. Hoping.

She doesn’t come. You walk home, humming something you think you remember her singing years ago. You start to wonder if she was just something you dreamt up, an old folk song you sing to yourself each night before you fell asleep.

Spring rolls around, and your empty house gathers dust. Your way with herbs and remedies gets around, starting with a few bottles gifted to a neighbour with influenza. Her granddaughter comes to your doorstep with the empty vial and a bag of potatoes. You smile and thank her.

“Are you a witch?” She asks, barely ten years old and looking up at you with dark, mistrusting eyes. You laugh.

“I’m not too sure about that, hon. Did the herbs help?”

She nods, a frown etched along her features.

“Then perhaps I’m a good one.”

Before you know it, word gets around that you cured the old woman. You make a living collecting herbs, crushing them down, and people line up outside your door most days. You find a slice of peace in it, in the routine.

But winter is cruel, and the house turns cold. The house that was once the perfect size for you and your mother now feels like too much money and work to heat, and things start breaking, and leaking. You hear from your cousin in Seven, you’ve inherited a log cabin and a slice of land on the edge of some woods from a great-aunt you never met.

You weigh your options. You go to the lake and skim stones in the icy water, mulling it over.

To leave Twelve is everyone’s dream. But Lucy Gray. The gentle ghost who lingers over your shoulder. How will she find you, if she ever comes back? You can’t stay here waiting forever. One bad frost kills your crops, the chill sets into your bones, and you make up your mind. You pack up your herbs and bottles, your books and your clothes, the pinecone you keep beneath your pillow, the silver snake bracelet she gave you many years ago, and you leave. A simple, smudged note sits under the plant pot on the porch, your old hiding place for the spare house key where she’ll know to look:

I’m in the trees. Come find me.

District Seven has more trees than you’ve ever seen. Twelve is known for it’s forests and fields, but these woods are expansive, spanning over miles, trees lined up perfectly, the smell of freshly chopped wood filling your senses.

Every step you took made you wonder if Lucy Gray been here, if the birds in these trees had heard her saccharine voice.

Your herbs sell a lot better in Seven. It’s enough to buy new clothes, and the village is better kept. The people are kind, warm and friendly. You can finally afford to eat your fill. Your cabin at the edge of the woods stays warm and comfortable, the wood is plentiful, you chop your own from the land that’s now yours.

Sometimes when your head spins from the weight of the axe you see movement in the woods, and you wonder. Sometimes you peer inside, certain that it’s her. But she feels so far away from you now, that you can’t help but feel you’ve abandoned her.

You take walks through the forests; you whistle to the birds and listen for the ones who might sing back. You hear nothing. One day, in the town, you walk by a window display with an old, beat-up guitar. It looks well-loved, and something draws you to it. Faded gold paint around the sound hole, strings messy but you go inside and barter, and take it home with you.

You hum some of the old songs she used to sing, try to piece together chords on the strings that aren’t snapped. It sounds like a mess but you play anyway. It feels like a piece of her that you want to keep close to you. You’ve learned to become a collector of sorts.

You’re kept warm through winter, and spring fades into summer. You take the little fishing boat that came with the cabin out on the river, and hike through the forest. You take your guitar with you, and one day, finally, you hear it.

A mockingjay.

It sings your broken tune back to you, bouncing through the pines. A smooth voice cuts through the birdsong.

“Did you miss me?”

Lucy Gray.

Your head spins around. And there she is, smiling, and you fall into her arms.

“I was so scared. I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“I know. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think I would either.”

“But you’re here, you found me! My note, I didn’t know if…”

“The trees.” She grins. “District Seven. It made perfect sense, my love.”

“I can’t believe you’re here. Lucy Gray, you don’t know how happy I am to see you.”

“Oh, I think I do. If you think for a second you’re alone in that, you couldn’t be more wrong. Now,” she adds, nodding at the guitar, “what do we have here?”

You take her onto the river, safer in Seven than you’d ever been in Twelve. She watches as you grind up lavender, the smell filling up the cabin, fascinated as you explain the hobby that you’d turned into work. She fixes your guitar strings, teaches you some simple chords. You sit on the porch, playing while she sings.

“It suits you here, you know.”

“You think so?”

“I do.” She pauses. “I was so sorry to hear about your ma. She was a good woman. She was always kind to me. To everyone.”

“Thank you. I’m okay now, really. I like it here. It’s quiet, peaceful. I think that’s what she’d want for me.”

When she stares up at the sky, birds soaring up above, the rush of the wind through the trees, you can’t help but ask. This is all so perfect, and after so long you can’t bear the thought of her leaving again.

“Do you know how long…”

She smiles.

“Maybe a day or two? If that’s okay.”

You can’t hide your grin. You nod, and she glances up at you.

“Of course that’s okay. More than okay.”

Her fingers press over yours as she demonstrates a final chord. She sits behind you as you strum, grinning at her, head spinning around and she’s so close, it’s almost surreal.

“You did it!” She’s beautiful. Vivid like a daydream, all technicolor.

“That’s all of it?”

“That’s all of it. Just play those four over again and you’ve got yourself a song.”

Your fingers intertwine, hand slipping from the guitar.

“Thank you for teaching me.” You whisper with a smile.

“You’ll remember it, won’t you?” There’s a solemness to it.

You frown.

“Of course I will. I’ll practice all the time.”

“You promise?” Her voice is desperate.

You slide the guitar to the floor and take her hand in yours, clasping it to your chest. Eyes making a silent oath.

“I won’t forget, Lucy Gray. I promise you.”

She nods, corners of her mouth turning up into a smile. You sigh.

“You know I’ve kept everything, don’t you? All of it. Everything I have that reminds me of you.”

“I saw the pinecone on the mantelpiece. Was that from-”

“The time we made the fire in 12? Yeah.”

She lights up.

“You’re such a romantic. I love it. You-”

Your lips press to hers, suddenly overcome with emotion. When you pull away, she sees the tears on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” You cry. “I really didn’t, and… I don’t want you to leave, I-”

Her wide eyes fill with apology.

“I know. I wish I didn’t have to leave, sugar. I’m sorry it took me so long this time. I wish I could tell you how much it hurts to be away. It feels like I never really rest, until I’m back with you. Does that make sense?”

You nod, blinking away your tears.

“Will you do something for me, my love?” She presses, soft hands brushing away your tears.

“Anything.”

“Until tomorrow, can we pretend I’m not leaving? Pretend like this is our normal. Like we’ve got all the time in the world.”

You close your eyes, then look at her again, just as quickly, not wanting to waste a precious second.

“All the time in the world.” You whisper back.

True to your word, you make the most of it. She leaves you the next morning. You say a proper goodbye this time, holding her like you’ll never let go. But you do.

Weeks stretch on and you can feel her slipping away again. The birds ease the pain, singing her pretty melodies back to you, like a worn-out record you’ve played on repeat. You throw the windows and doors open, filling the house with summer’s balmy air and the sound of her voice bouncing through the rooms as if she was still there. But soon enough, they forget her dulcet notes, and you’re alone with yourself again.

You track the time through seasons, like you always have. The summer draws to a bittersweet close, and you miss it before it’s fully gone.

You slip back into your routine. You take the boat out alone. The schoolchildren sneak up to your door at times, you hear them whispering. The witch rumours are back in full swing but you don’t mind them. You think it rather suits you. You open the door, much to their horror, and offer them some cookies. They come dutifully back for more on Saturdays, and you appreciate the bit of company.

You keep your promise, and it keeps her alive. You practice the chords she taught you, rough calluses starting to form on your fingers. You trace them at night when the world gets too quiet, and as winter closes in again it gets quieter still. The birds fly away to escape the cold, and you wonder if out there somewhere, she might see them. You find yourself praying the winter isn’t being too cruel to her, wherever she is.

One day, at the market, you’re sat at your stall selling chamomile and sage tea, and you hear her name, like a question in someone’s voice. They remember. They remember her. Your heart swells. You want to scream at the top of your lungs, it’s her. She is the girl you love.

She appears more and more in your dreams, some nights you’re restless, dreaming of her scared, running from something in a dark forest, sometimes you’re there by her side. Other times you wake with a start thinking she’s knocking at your door. You sprint outside into the darkness, barefoot on the damp grass, turning in circles before you catch your breath.

You could make yourself some valerian root tea as a remedy, but you don’t. You don’t mind her living on through your dreams. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.

You’re comforted by this haunting.

She finds you again. She always does.

“I saw the Covey a few months ago.” You tell her, the first night you spend together, lay in your bed, arms and legs a tangled mess, her hand in your hair.

Her eyes light up.

“Did you really? Close to here?”

You nod.

“They weren’t here for long. I’m not sure they recognised me, I was at the back of the room. It was pretty dark.”

Her eyes are wistful, filled with something you think you understand now.

“It all feels like so long ago, doesn’t it? I forget sometimes, just how long it’s been.” She looks to the floor. “And Maude Ivory – was she there? How’d she look?”

“She was.” You grin. “She looked happy. Healthy. She was smiling and dancing the whole night, like she always used to.”

You pause for a second, wondering if you should go back, mention that she, much like you, must still have an emptiness, a gap in her life even after all these years, but it’s like Lucy Gray reads your mind. Always one step ahead.

“That’s good.” She says decidedly. “It’s all I ever wanted for her. To be happy. Free. Thank you for telling me. I… I think about them a lot. About all of it. But I always hoped they’d move on without me.”

You’re quiet when you speak again.

“Lucy Gray, I don’t think anyone could ever move on from you.”

It lingers in the air. You speak up again.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course you can.”

“When I saw them that night, I stayed for the whole set, because… well, it’s silly,” you confess, “I couldn’t stop watching. I kept thinking that you’d show up. Like they’d just announce your name and they’d all cheer like they did in Twelve. Like you would get up there and sing, and see me in the crowd, and just… smile. Like you’d asked me to be there that night.”

It’s back again, that wistful look of hers.

“I sure wish I had been, sugar. But I think I’d rather be here with you than up on that stage, these days.”

Warmth fills your chest. “Yeah?”

She takes a breath.

“It’s important that people forget me. It’s safer this way. I don’t know what they’d do if they found me, but I know for certain I don’t plan to find out. Maybe one day… well, we’ll have to see. But for now, I could stay a little longer. Would that be okay? If I stayed until the week ends?”

Stay forever, you want to say. But you nod, holding her like she’s already gone.

When she leaves, it’s too soon. Always too soon. You stand in front of the cabin, wishing you could mold your hand around hers and never let go. You kiss her goodbye.

“You didn’t see me here.” She whispers against your lips.

“Not sure I know what you’re talking about.” You respond, and her lips turn into a half-smile.

“Now. Close your eyes.”

You press them shut, feeling her hands slip from yours. When you open them, she’s gone again.

As the years go by, you stop hearing the name Lucy Gray altogether. She starts to feel more like a folk tale; a messy, ink splashed cursive on old parchment. You yearn to speak of her, to keep her legacy alive, but you can’t. You don’t. You remember, though. The world could forget about Lucy Gray Baird, but your memory of her lived on like a still-beating heart, and in turn it kept her alive. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t keep you alive, too.

You make quite the name for yourself, your apothecary bringing in customers from across Seven, sometimes further. So much so, that sometimes you wonder if when she passes through Twelve or Seven, she hears about you and remembers, counting down the days until she gets to come home.

She still haunts your dreams, slipping away as soon as you wake up. But she’ll come back. No matter how many times she leaves. Wherever you go, she’ll find you. She could go anywhere in the world, but she’ll always come back home to you. And you’ll be waiting for her, even if the world curses her name, even if the Covey forgets her too. You understand now. She’s as much yours as you are hers. And when she comes home, it’ll always feel like she never left. And that’s enough for you. It was always enough.

You leave your porch light on.

taglist: (i'm just gonna tag people who showed interest in the excerpt/might like this!) @etfrin @darby-rowe @ohstardew @ohmeadows @sabrinasbd @ctrlovertheworld

#mimi writes! 🕊️#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird x reader #lucy gray x you #lucy gray baird x you #the hunger games x reader #tbosas x reader #thg tbosas #the hunger games fanfiction #x reader #x you #x you fluff #x you angst #reader insert #itmitc

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pit-confirm · 14 days ago

Text

Date Night

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr/male reader Word count: 3k Warnings: sexual content

***

You’re so focused on the screen in front of you that you barely hear the doors opening. You lift your head just in time to see Carlos walk in.

‘Hello,’ you greet him quietly as you look him up and down. He looks a bit tired and his dark stubble makes his features more pronounced.

‘Hi, honey, I’m home,’ he replies jokingly and kicks off his shoes. You clear your throat and shoot him a pointed glance. ‘Fine, fine,’ he rolls his eyes and makes sure that his shoes are neatly arranged by the entrance. He takes off his jacket as well before he walks over to you.

‘How was the rest of your day?’ you ask him as you tilt your head up. Your eyes meet for a moment.

‘Eh, it was okay. Nothing special,’ Carlos shrugs and steps in close, leaning over your shoulder. ‘Are you working still?’

‘Just some emails I wanted to catch up on,’ you explain, feeling your attention snap back to the glowing screen again. The number 45 next to your inbox is taunting you. You furrow your brow and sigh tiredly.

‘That’s boring,’ Carlos pronounces and straightens up. He stands behind you for a while, his hands resting on the back of your chair, before he also sighs deeply. ‘That was a hint,’ he says grouchily and walks towards the bed.

Before you have the chance to open your mouth and remind him about the “no outside clothes on the bed” rule, Carlos spreads out the bed cover before sprawling out comfortably on it.

‘See?’ he asks proudly and wiggles excitedly. ‘I listen to you sometimes.’

‘I see that,’ you smile against your will. ‘Good boy,’ you add before you can help yourself. It’s true, anyway. He is good to you.

Carlos hums, content. ‘Are almost done or…?’ he starts to ask after a while.

‘I…’ you hesitate for a moment. The truth is, you’re nowhere near done and will probably take you at least an hour, if not more, to finish what you’re doing. ‘Yes, almost,’ you say eventually and decide that you will simply wake up early tomorrow morning. ‘I do need to finish this one thing first, though. So, how about you take a shower first and I’ll start on the dinner,’ you offer.

‘Shower first?’ Carlos asks and scrunches his nose. ‘Are you saying I stink?’

‘Well, you don’t smell of roses, that’s for sure,’ you joke quickly and laugh at his offended face. ‘Come on. You can do that while I wrap up my things and-’

‘You don’t want to join me?’ he interrupts you with a glint in his eye and a teasing rise of his eyebrow.

It’s tempting to say yes. Carlos is a sight to behold when naked and wet. Still, it’s better not to give in. ‘What, so I can slip and die?’ you ask right back and shake your head. You know yourself too well to even think that a joint shower would end up in anything else but a disaster. ‘No, thank you.’

Carlos narrows his eyes. He sees right through you. ‘Old man,’ he laughs eventually and gets up.

You shrug delicately - it’s one of those things you can’t argue against. Still, you try. ‘Let’s see if you’ll be calling me that later,’ you say and offer him a smile.

‘Do you promise?’ Carlos asks and bats his eyelashes comically.

‘Of course,’ you say easily and watch him pause for a moment, blushing. ‘Now, off you go,’ you motion with your head toward the bathroom and turn your attention back to your laptop.

Soon, you hear the shower turn on and your look that way. Carlos left the bathroom door ajar, an open invitation for you to join if you changed your mind. You sigh wistfully and close your laptop - you cannot pretend to be working any longer.

You get up and head to the kitchen - the set up is basic but you’ve made sure to stock up the fridge with fresh produce, so you can easily make a nice dinner for two this evening. You bring out all the ingredients, the chopping board and a salad bowl, and get to work. You quickly find your rhythm and start making a simple pasta salad.

‘This looks nice,’ comes a voice from behind your back making you jump.

‘Christ!’ you yelp, almost dropping the knife. You get ahold of yourself and shoot him a pinted glare but you soften up immediately when you see how Carlos looks. His hair is wet and messy, sticking at odd angles from where he dried it haphazardly with a towel. His skin is glowing and his t-shirt crosses the line between well-fitting and too tight. Judging by how his neck and arms stretch it out, it must be one of yours.

‘No, just Carlos,’ he grins at you and then peers over your shoulder curiously. ‘Can I help?’

‘Um,’ you hesitate for a moment. Carlos likes to talk big game but the truth is, he’s only good at preparing a very narrow selection of dishes. ‘You can chop the tomatoes,’ you say eventually and pass him the knife.

You work together side by side for a while in silence, your arms brushing against one another every now and then. It sends sparks down your spine every time it happens.

‘You can sit down,’ you say eventually and gently steer Carlos away. ‘I will finish it up and we’ll eat in a minute.’

‘Yes, sir,’ he says with an eyeroll but sits down at the small table you set up earlier. He waits patiently with his hands folded in his lap. You look at him for a moment before you go back to making the salad.

‘There you go,’ you say slowly as you place the plate in front of Carlos. ‘Enjoy.’

‘Thank you,’ he smiles and waits for you to sit with your portion before he starts to eat. ‘This is very nice,’ he says after a while and you try not to feel offended that he sounds so surprised.

‘I’m glad you like it.’

‘It was my chopping skills that made it so good, I think,’ Carlos laughs and sends you a quick wink.

‘Yes, that’s what made all the difference,’ you say flatly but you drop the act quickly. You're glad he liked it and in the end, seeing him happy is all that matters.

You continue the meal in relative silence, eventually starting an inconsequential conversation about your respective days at work. Slowly, you empty your plates and push them aside, feeling more and more relaxed with each passing minute. Your legs touch under the table. You feel Carlos' foot press against your calf and wiggle its way under the leg of your trousers. What a tease.

‘This was nice,’ Carlos says.

‘So you've said,’ you say and realise that he wasn't done talking yet. You encourage him to continue.

‘But I think we were missing a candle here,’ he gestures towards the table that's between the two of you, devoid of any decorations.

You lift your head up and look at the fire alarm that's on the ceiling. Knowing your luck, lighting a candle would probably set it off and that's something you'd like to avoid during a romantic dinner for two. Still…

‘Next time,’ you promise.

‘Okay,’ Carlos says softly as he nods. ‘I was also promised something else, I think,’ he adds and wiggles his eyebrows.

‘You’re so impatient tonight,’ you remark, mainly for show. It's not like you're doing any better. ‘What happened to foreplay?’

‘This is foreplay, no?’ he asks and waves his hand between the two of you. ‘Come on, you can tell me I look good, so I can tell you I’d look even better naked and then we can… You know,’ he makes another one of his ridiculous faces, complete with an over the top wink.

You can no longer hold yourself back and burst out laughing.

‘Oh, you're something else,’ you say fondly and look Carlos up and down slowly, lingering on his arms which are now crossed over his chest. ‘You do look nice today,’ you say and watch the reaction even the simplest compliment has on him.

‘Ah, but you know-’ Carlos starts to say with a wide smile but you weren't done yet.

‘Must be the shirt you're wearing,’ you cut in. ‘It’s one of mine, I think.’

‘Really? I didn't notice,’ Carlos says innocently, as if is range of motions hasn't been limited by the shirt which is so tight around his broad shoulders, you wonder if he could lift his arms up without ripping it up.

‘I'm sure,’ you hum, letting him know what you really think about it. He grins back. ‘Well, I agree that it would be better if you took it off, if only to stop you from stretching it out completely.’

Now, it's Carlos' turn to laugh. ‘If you care so much about it, sure,’ he shrugs when he calms down.

You watch him get up from the table and feel your breath catch when he unceremoniously tugs the shirt off. You reach out for him silently and he steps in close, so close that you can smell the body wash he used earlier. Also yours. You put a hand on his naked waist and grip it tightly before you can help yourself.

‘Let’s go to bed?’ you ask, hating the slight tremble that crept into your voice so quickly. You can’t even bear to tear your eyes away from Carlos for a second and look towards the bed that’s behind you.

Carlos lifts his arms and loops them around your neck. He tilts his head to the side, his heair flopping with the movement.

‘What if I like it here?’ he asks and steps between your legs. ‘Maybe I want it like this, eh?’

‘We can do it like this on the bed,’ you say gently. ‘Come on, let’s go. We’ll be more comfortable,’ you plead and rub your thumb back and forth over his hipbone.

‘We?’ Carlos snorts as he takes a small step back and helps you stand up. ‘I think you mean yourself, old man. I would be perfectly okay here,’ he says snottily and guides you towards the bed.

‘Oh, I’m- I’m sure,’ you gasp as you fall back on the bed with a quiet oof, feeling graceless. But before you have the chance to overthink that, Carlos climbs onto the bed and settles on your lap.

Your hands immediately fly to his hips, gripping them tightly. You tilt your head and your eyes meet. Your breath catches. You decide to focus on giving Carlos what he wants before you say something you cannot take back. You slowly move one of your hands up his sides and then down until it rests on his ass. You pull him closer and he groans loudly when your groins touch.

‘Is this…?’ you try to ask and pause to swallow down a moan.

‘Yes, yes,’ Carlos nods eagerly and grinds down again. ‘Exactly like that, please,’ he adds so sweetly and leans down.

You meet him halfway in a kiss that feels too gentle for how desperately Carlos is moving against you. He cups your face for a moment before his hands begin roaming over your body. You can’t tell how much time has passed before you separate to catch your breath.

‘Oh, my boy,’ you sigh softly when you see how flushed Carlos is. His cheeks are red and his lips are shiny and open. Suddenly, you get an idea. ‘Wouldn’t this be better?’ you ask as you reposition him in your lap. Now, he’s properly straddling your right thigh.

‘Is better, yes,’ he mutters and throws his head back as he rolls his hips forward. He gasps loudly.

You move to kiss his bared neck, careful not to leave any marks and wanting nothing else but do just that. Your lips scrape against his stubble and you press them where Carlos is most sensitive. In response, he quietly moans your name.

‘You’re doing good,’ you say in encouragement as you grip his hip and help him find his rhythm. He continues to grind agains your thigh, now fully hard. You reach out to undo his jeans and he breathes out in relief. You can feel the wet spot at the front of his boxers. ‘Fuck,’ you whisper quietly and kiss him properly.

This time, it’s wet and messy, with teeth biting on your lower lip. At some point, you end up loudly panting in each other’s mouths before you reconnect again. Carlos presses himself even closer and ends up toppling you over. You land on your back and the breath is knocked out of your lungs. This man… You shake your head in breathless disbelief and keep kissing him again and again until your lips feel numb.

As he lies on top of you, Carlos finds a new angle to hump your leg. His hips are moving in small and urgent circles, his dick straining against his boxers. They must be ruined by now. You want him to soak them.

‘Keep going,’ you tell him and you tangle your hand in his hair. It’s soft to the touch. You tug on it until he arches his back and bares his neck. ‘Beautiful.’

Carlos simply whines in response. For a while, you continue just like that, alternating gentle kisses with sharp tugs to his hair, delighting in the noises he makes. You feel him getting desperate. But as soon as you think that, he changes things up. Carlos sneaks one hand between your bodies and palms you through your trousers. In all this, your erection felt like an afterthought - but now, it’s impossible to ignore. You roll your hips up.

‘Yeah?’ Carlos asks, his hot breath hitting you on the cheek. You nod quickly.

He doesn’t bother unzipping your trousers properly, he simply opens them just enough so that he can put his hand down your boxers and grab your cock. He wraps his hand around it and begins to jerk you off in time with how he humps your leg.

‘You’re so good to me,’ you say in awe as you cup his face. Carlos looks at you with his brown eyes which seem to glisten with tears.

He must be close - you know this, because he doesn’t reply to you anymore. He just nods and groans, his mouth falling wide open. Before you can think about it, you push your fingers in. He sucks on them eagerly. You feel his hips stutter against you, his hand comes to a stop. You have to guide him for him to resume his previous rhythym. It feels more frantic now.

‘Good boy,’ you praise him and that’s when it happens. He rolls his hips forward once, twice, and comes agains your leg. You can feel the wet spot grow where your bodies are touching. He slumps in your arms, his head resting in the crook of your neck, and whines quietly.

You try to focus on running your hands through his hair in a calming motion, on rubbing comforting circles on his back. But you feel so close to the edge yourself that you end up rolling your hips against his hand where it’s still loosely wrapped around your cock. Carlos knows how you like it best, so he immediately tightens his grip and starts to jerk you off properly. It doesn’t take you long before you begin to groan. Your feel yourself tense before everything becomes so overwhelming, that you squeeze your eyes shut. You come in his hand with a low-pitched moan.

Now, you both fall into each other, boneless and breathless. You hum quietly, content. Carlos echoes the sound. Eventually, he rolls to the side and rests his head on your chest. You look down on him and see his eyes dropping shut. He’s trying to fight it.

‘That was nice,’ Carlos says eventually, his voice rough. It sends a shiver down your spine because from his tone, you know he’s not talking just about the sex.

‘Yes, it was,’ you say quietly and run your hand down his spine. You’re already thinking about when you can plan for such a Sunday evening again.

‘I like this, you know,’ Carlos continues and gestures vaguely. He lifts his head and looks straight at you. ‘This date night idea was a good one.’

‘Thank you,’ you smile at him softly. ‘Will you-?’

‘But just one thing,’ he cuts you off and reaches out to grab your hand. ‘Next time, you should maybe remember to take off your ring,’ he says archly.

Something in your chest clenches painfully at that. Still, you know very well that Carlos pays extra attention to the ring you wear on your left hand, either playing with it or licking around it teasingly when you put your fingers in his mouth.

‘I will do that next time,’ you promise him, knowing very well that you won’t do it. ‘I’m guessing that you won’t be staying tonight?’

‘No,’ Carlos shakes his head and settles back on your chest. ‘I fly out tomorrow morning and I still need to pack. But I will see you soon, no? You will be there on Wednesday?’

‘Yes, I will,’ you confirm. ‘I’m flying with the rest of the team.’

‘Okay,’ he says softly and sighs. ‘I still have a some time,’ he adds and looks at you with his wide eyes.

‘Let’s just do this, then,’ you say, matching his tone. You hold him close and play with his hair idly, focusing on the movement so intensely that any and all thoughts of the next week’s race are pushed out of your head. Right now, it’s still Sunday and your date night with Carlos is still happening - and you will keep on prolonging it until one of you really needs to get up and shatters this beautiful illusion. Carlos seems to think the same as he lies in your arms. You’re both happy like this.

This smau is a part of the Online Disinhibition Effect fic.

#f1 x reader #f1 x male reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz jr x male reader #my writing

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prentissluvr · 2 years ago

Text

feverish — joel miller

gn!reader, platonic!reader, fatherfigure!joel , sickfic , cw : mentions of fever & coughing, sickness in general, mostly unedited , wc : 1K , anon i hope you enjoy it !! <333

joel notices immediately when you begin lagging behind him and ellie. but you don’t say anything, so neither does he, just pausing occasionally to let you catch up.

in the end, it’s ellie who says something.

“hey, are you okay?” she asks you once you’re all settled by the fire. joel, whose attention seems to be solely on the meat he’s cooking, is peering at you subtly, listening intently for your reaction.

“i’m fine,” you wave off her concern, “just a little tired today, is all.” your answer’s not a complete lie, it’s true that you’re tired, but what you don’t tell them is the way you can feel the sickness starting to settle in your bones. really, it was yesterday you first started feeling it, but it hadn’t begun to slow you down until a few hours into hiking today.

“well then, we’d better get to sleep right after eating,” joel advises. “best get as much sleep as you can for tomorrow.”

you heed his advice, curling into your sleeping bag the moment you can in hopes that good enough rest will prevent you from truly falling ill. ellie talks for a few minutes the way she normally does before sleeping, but joel cuts her off earlier than normal tonight for your sake. with that reasoning, she actually listens to him and settles down to sleep herself.

—

your hopes of escaping sickness are unfairly stolen from you in the morning when you wake up with the sun, groggy and completely out of it. your nose is stuffy, throat sore, and limbs heavy when you rustle about in your covers. you just turn to your side and do your best to drift back into what turns out to be a quite restless sleep.

the next time you wake, it’s to ellie gently nudging your shoulder for you to get up as joel finishes cleaning up camp. you groan in protest, halfheartedly pushing her away.

“it’s almost time to go,” she says, “joel let you sleep in.”

you let out a huff of breath, wishing you could lay in bed all day before struggling to sit up. rubbing at your eyes, you take in the state of your tired, compromised body and decide it’s certainly best if you say nothing about it. no reason to make anyone worry or slow down your journey.

so you push past your discomfort, standing up and quickly packing up your bag. but your plans to cover up your sickness do not go as well as planned when you begin coughing and sniffling uncontrollably.

about the fourth time you lean against a tree to support yourself during a coughing bout, joel stops completely, handing you water and waiting until you’re done to speak.

“you’re gettin’ sick, kid,” he states, very aware that you’ve been quiet in order to prevent causing an inconvenience to him and ellie. you shake your head, so he continues. “you can let us know if you’re not feeling well, you know? that’s not something you can control. what d’ you say we make camp early and rest for the day?”

“no!” you exclaim, “no, that’s alright, i’m fine. i swear. i don’t even feel that sick, it just sounds like it,” you try to explain away the actual extent of your sickness.

he says your name, gentle and firm like the hand he places on your shoulder. “you look like you could fall over any second. i ain’t buying any of that, alright? you need to rest so that you don’t get more sick, you understand me?

you want to keep trying, to convince him and a watching ellie that you’re fine, but it seems you can never argue with that tone of voice he uses when he’s truly serious about something.

“fine,” you relent with a sigh, feeling half grateful, half guilty, and one hundred percent sick as you trek along until you find an appropriate campground.

joel orders you to lay down when you try and help set up, only asking you to move once a fire is going so that you can soak up it’s warmth. as you lay there, it seems as if all of your stubbornness is catching up to you, and you can’t resist it when your eyes drift closed despite the sun still being clear in the sky.

with a mind too groggy with sickness and sleep, you don’t process much even when you’re awake. ellie stays close by to your laying form, silently worried by the sickness that’s visible in your face and the coughs that wrack your body. she jumps up each time joel asks her to do anything, eager to help you rather than just sit by and do nothing. joel too is dedicated to caring for you, his soft palm feeling your forehead for signs of fever as you slip in and out of sleep. he does his best to create a broth from bones and freshly hunted meat throughout the hours that you sleep for you to eat when you wake.

when you squirm uncomfortably in your sleep with your brows furrowed, he does his best to calm your distress with gentle touches. past memories of caring for a sick child are clear in his head, both hurting his heart but helping him to help you the best he can.

you try to resist his help again once you wake, but the weakness in your limbs doesn’t let you get far, so your resolve crumbles far faster this time. he helps you drink and eat all while ellie does her best to cheer you up with corny jokes and over exaggerated retellings of things that have happened throughout your journey all together. it works well, her words resulting in your laughing so hard that you begin to cough and a non-threatening glare from joel in her direction.

but soon, you tire again, so joel insists you go back to sleep, just as twilight fades into total darkness. you don’t argue this time, nor at all the next day as he and ellie patiently nurse you back to health until you’re spry and well again.

#joel miller #joel miller x platonic!reader #platonic joel miller #father figure joel #joel miller tlou #tlou show #joel miller x gender neutral reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller comfort #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fluff #tlou joel #joel miller father figure #the last of us

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no-goodbyes-no-regrets · 24 days ago

Note

More news from TikTok 😂

Apparently it was Ravi who was supposed to die but then Tim changed it?! Is this true? That tracks with what you said about him killing off the medic to make room for TK on the team on Lone Star. But I guess Tim swerved at the last minute.

Apparently people have been giving the Lab Rats episode low ratings and it is something like 4.1 right now (personally I think that is mean, because the episode was beautiful). But basically, people in general are mad about Bobby dying, then Buddie fans are mad about Eddie not finding out about Bobby on-screen.

But also, you were right about the rumours. I saw on this Tiktok that when Tim was asked if Eddie was going to return to 118 LA permanently, he replied, he is returning for the last three episodes. So, NOTHING ABOUT SEASON 9!!

They asked Tim about the script, he said he didn't know anything about it - so it's just the cast trolling the set stalkers.

I looked up the interview this person is talking about - they're picking out the parts they like. As usual.

I could quote the whole thing here, but this post is already LONG as it is so I'll just link it

Here is the "it was supposed to be Ravi" thing

DEADLINE: Angela, did you have any inkling that something of this magnitude might be coming this season? BASSETT: Absolutely not. Not an inkling, not a word, not birdies, nothing. This is near the end of the season. Sometimes near the end of the season, we’re in this race against time to get our scripts, you’re really getting it in real time. It’s like get it today, and we’re going to start filming it tomorrow. So it was really a jaw-dropping moment when I read the script and saw that. Well, initially it was a different character, the whole bio lab. I mean, it could be anyone, it could be Chimney, it could be him, it could be Ravi. I remember Tim called. He said, someone’s going to pass away. I said, Is it me? Self-preservation, you know. I went through the list, you start with yourself, but I was very surprised that it was my husband. DEADLINE: You mentioned that there was a different character that initially was supposed to die. Did something change in the script? BASSETT: That may have been just a misdirect, but initially it was Ravi, the probie; well, he is not a probie anymore.

So obviously things changed from page to filming. It happens. Tim mentioned he wanted to make a big impact, and we love Ravi in this house but his death would not be anywhere near as big a deal as Bobby's. They would be sad for a while - but that's it.

DEADLINE: Did you adjust Bobby’s story arc this season to give him a proper sendoff? Obviously he died a hero, saving his team, but he also had a heroic moment in the pre-lab leak episode, emerging from the smoke of a bus crash with a baby in his arms. He finally reconciled with his mother, too. MINEAR: Yes, a little bit actually. I’d really been thinking about it back during the first part of the season. There’s a moment in the first part of the season when Brad Torrence, the Hotshots [TV show] star, says that his captain is never going to wake up from his coma, and a fan says, you can’t kill him off, he’s the father figure of the firehouse. So that was me hinting a little bit about where I might be going.

CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS THOUGH:

DEADLINE: Tim, you mentioned redemption earlier. Bobby was praying as he died, also coming full circle as he and Athena first bonded when they went to church together. How did you come up with that ending? MINEAR: That was Peter. That was Peter.

@ Peter you dropped this 👑

also

DEADLINE: Tim, are you afraid of fans’ reaction to Bobby’s death? Are you going into witness protection? MINEAR: I I’ve been in witness protection ever since I stopped looking at social media. That’s the way I protect myself, is I just don’t look at that stuff. I’m definitely going out on a skinny branch in some way. We’ll see what happens. I fervently believe that it was the right move creatively for the show. I didn’t expect us to be going into a ninth year, and if the show has any hope of being creatively viable and alive going forward, then you need moments like this. You need them.

I wouldn't worry about Ryan/season 9 for now. Nothing is official yet, they're still filming season 8. We won't know anything for a few months I think. Knowing Tim the cast will hear what is or isn't changing about a week before they start filming and we'll know either via set stalkers again or official press releases around that time.

As for the review bombing on imdb - they're just a bunch of entitled whiney bitch babies who can't handle the fact their fave isn't in every minute of every episode.

We expected/hoped for Lou in 8x14 but he wasn't there. You don't see any of us going to imdb to rate it 1 star because he wasn't in it.

#u-changed-my-life #911 abc #bucktommy #long post

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twinklelilstarkey · 2 years ago

Text

Tutor: Control

Words: 5.6k+ Type: Angst & Smut Summary: It's the day after the fight, and you've been avoiding Rafe, so, he decides to take matters into his hands. Warnings: Fem!Reader. Arguing/fighting. A lot of crying. Overthinking. SMUT [risk of getting caught, as always, and kind of teasing each other for it; piv; no protection (she takes the pill); on the softer side; fluffy at the end].

Tutor Masterlist

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

“So, you think we should talk to her now?” One of the girls asks.

The girls all sit around in the living room comfortably. Some are on the couch, others on the floor to make a perfect circle. Kristy holds her mug close, warming her hands while listening to their words and questions.

“Not now.” She says.

“Why not now?” Another one of them asks.

“Well, for starters,” Kristy checks her phone mid-sentence, “It is past 10 PM, and I am not about to wake up her parents to go over and talk about this.”

The girls contemplate her words in silence. They stop sitting upright, acting like Kristy destroyed their whole mission of saving you instead of simply delaying it. They look around each other as the TV stays in a soft murmur that fills the room in times like this.

All of the girls are dressed in their pajamas, as tonight had been a plan to sleep over at Kristy’s home since her parents are off the island. It used to be something that all of them always did as a group, including you.

They could’ve gone to a party instead, and some wished to. Yet, after much talking to the avid partygoers of the island, the girls didn’t exactly like their options for this weekend, especially after hearing what happened yesterday.

“I’m worried for her.” One of the girls breaks the silence.

“We all are.” Kristy tells her.

They contemplate their hypothetical reality, making horrible images pass through them. Those same images always prove every warning they gave you regarding him, and they all end with you hurt in some way - physical or emotional.

“Do you guys know the details of yesterday?” Kristy asks out of nowhere.

They all look around each other in silence until one of them speaks.

“I only heard that it was near the end of the party.” She says, getting the attention of everyone.

Everyone on the island knows how yesterday's party ended and who got taken to the hospital. But truly only a handful of people know what actually happened. Or, better, no one is actually giving out any details about what happened, only the outcome.

“Has anyone talked about how long Aiden needs to stay in the hospital?”

“I don’t think his parents have said anything.”

A little more silence.

“Do you think they’ll press charges?”

“Not if Ward Cameron hears of it. You know how it is…”

Kristy looks at the girls in silence as they speak.

“Nothing happens to people like them.”

“And to think she probably watched the whole thing…” One of them whispers in realization.

“She could’ve been home when it happened.” One of the girls tries to ease the tension. “She never liked parties.”

Kristy doesn’t believe that, but she doesn’t say anything.

On another note, one of the girls does seem to be the most worried of everyone else. She looks around at the gloomy faces, all of them imagining what happened at a kook party, and she can't but feel the same.

“He wouldn’t do anything to hurt…” Another one of the girls whispers but fails to say it out loud, “Right?”

They all look at each other in silence, fearing to answer. Not wanting to seem too negative or too positive. As they all just want to be wrong.

“We’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Kristy says. “As soon as we see her coming into school.”

“But she has been getting in late.”

“Then at lunch.”

“If she wants to have lunch with us.” Another one of them adds bitterly.

Kristy bites her tongue to not say anything, as she seems to be the only one in the group who sees the true reason why you have grown quieter and more distant.

This whole plan was supposed to lead you to them and to talk to them, not the opposite. Not this. The plan wasn't for you to be mistreated by your own friends when you could be in such a sensitive situation.

“We’ll talk to her tomorrow.” Kristy ends the conversation.

(...)

You sigh while turning off the lights in your bathroom and stepping into your room. The room has grown colder than you remember when you stepped out, but you do have your wet hair to blame for the chills.

You go over to your bed, throw your phone onto the covers and turn on the light on your bedside table, illuminating your room ever so slightly. Your phone lights up with a notification, and you stare at it in the distance, not daring to reach for it and simply letting the call go to voicemail.

Letting out a long breath as you walk, you look over at your bookstand, scanning through the options of your night read. Your finger traces the spine of a book as your eyes stay on the next.

A few seconds go by and all you can hear in your bedroom is the whistling of the wind outside, as tonight has to be one of the coldest nights in the past few days.

You cannot choose between two books after much looking around, and as you're about to give up something grabs your attention. It was a sound, a soft one. You look away from your books to look around your empty room. It could’ve been the wood of the furniture cracking, but it sounded like something else.

It could’ve been your parents if only they were awake. They have been asleep for the past hour after telling you about how exhausted they felt. All of it was due to running around about something you did not care to ask about. They were so tired, they didn’t even annoy you too much about spending your Sunday in bed. They just let you do it.

You look back at your books and finally choose a random one. You eye the cover while walking over to your bed, and suddenly freeze when hearing that sound again.

It was a light sound, nothing too loud. And it was something you’ve heard before but can’t exactly understand from where.

As you’re about to take a seat on your bed and ignore it once more, your window opens, startling you.

Your curtains fly with the strong wind, and a figure gets inside your dark room with absolutely no struggle.

He doesn’t say anything when he gets in, he simply turns around to close the window without making much of a sound. You watch your curtains hide him from you as they fly gracefully, and your heart drops.

You do not want to see him, let alone talk to him. But you cannot bring yourself to even open your mouth.

You should’ve expected this. You had been ignoring his calls and his texts all day, especially last night after the party. How had you not seen this coming?

The curtains fall back to the sides of your window as it closes, and he is completely visible to you now. You look at him up and down, watching as his body could move towards you at any second.

His hair is messy and falling into his eyes, and he's wearing a simple striped t-shirt and gray pants. His eyes take a bit to find you, but when they eventually do, he doesn’t move.

You snap awake from whatever trance you were in and shake your head at him.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You tell him in a whisper, so soft he almost didn’t hear you.

Rafe looks at you entirely, not missing an inch of you. He turns, and you can tell that he is upset. He isn’t smiling like he usually is when he sees you. His face is not serious either. It is something different.

“Just give me-”

“No.” You interrupt him. “Leave.”

You two stand quietly, staring at one another in complete silence. Rafe attempts to reach for you, but that only leads you to move further away from him.

“You have to listen to me-” He whispers with you.

“Rafe, I am serious.” You tell him, already feeling your eyes pathetically begin to sting.

“So am I, please,” He pleads, his voice becoming breathier than before. “Just let me talk to you.”

You shake your head at him, and he takes a step towards you.

“You can’t be here.” You tell him. Your voice, in a whisper, sounds shakier, and you hate every bit of it.

He comes closer, and you step back.

“You aren’t picking up my calls-” He starts.

“Because I do not want to talk to you.” You interrupt him, backing away yet again.

Rafe moves closer to you, and you refuse to be near him by taking another step. His face is hidden from your only light, and he continues to move, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Do not do this.” You whisper shakingly at him. “I do not want to see you. And I do not want to talk to you.”

Rafe pauses, faceless due to the lack of light, and you simply stare at him, waiting for him to give up and just abandon your room, leaving you to be in your silence and peace. But he does none of that. He just stands there, watching you with the advantage of the light still lighting your face.

He can see your saddened eyes, and how you are holding yourself back to not cry. He does not wish to leave, nor does he wish to let the silence between the two of you go longer than a day. This is fixable, he knows it is.

“I just want to explain-”

“There is nothing to explain.” You tell him with the most heartbreaking tone on the planet. You stare at him in complete distress, “Nothing could explain yesterday.”

“I’m sorry.” Rafe says quickly.

“I do not want you to apologize, Rafe.” You whisper at him, letting your eyes fill with tears. “He’s in the hospital… Everyone knows about it. Everyone knows how horrible you hurt him.”

“I-”

“Do not say anything.” You plead to him, voice shaking, “I am begging you, don’t.”

He does what you ask him to but he does stay near you. Your tears begin to fall down your cheeks while images of the prior night hit your mind from every direction. Your heart is beginning to race, and you struggle to calm it down.

“God, you can go to jail for this.”

“I won’t.” He tells you, awaiting you to silence him, but you don’t.

You sniffle and bring your hands to your cheeks, cleaning your face of the tears that have been repeatedly wetting your face for the past day. He notices the way you are shaking but stays quiet.

“Just... Why did you have to do it?” You whisper to him, as your eyes come back to his faceless figure.

Rafe hesitates to answer you.

“I get that he is a bad person and that he shouldn’t have said what he did, but you went beyond every… every limit,” You tell him.

Rafe tries to reach for you, but you simply move aside and walk away from him before he can corner you.

“I know,” He tells you while turning around. His face is illuminated now, and it just makes everything so much harder for you. “I’m sorry.”

“I am not the one that you should be apologizing to, Rafe,” You practically sob out your words.

His face twists as if you struck him. He tries to reach for you again, and, this time, you do not move.

“I am not apologizing to him,” He whispers to you.

You stare up at him in disbelief and try to pull away from him, but he is too close to let you escape his space. You breathe out a long breath, and another tear slides down your cheek.

“I lost control. You shouldn’t have seen it-”

“It shouldn’t have happened, Rafe,” You tell him with impatience thick in your tone. Your frown worsens, and you know that you are seconds away from crying your eyes out as you look at him. “You went too far.”

Rafe isn't sure why, but he grows defensive at your words as he says softly, “What he said-”

You send him a glare of pure betrayal, making him tense up and shut up.

“Do not try to justify what you did.” You say, even when lost in tears, with a harsh tone.

“I was trying to protect you… I only fought him because of what he said to you,” He lays his hands on his chest, sounding and looking sincere with his words.

“Aiden’s in the hospital,” Your breath hits his face as you are so close to one another.

He tells you, “I know. But what he did-”

“Do you hear yourself?” You whisper out a yell at him while mentally cursing at the tears that keep on falling. “Rafe, you could’ve killed him! This isn't normal.”

Rafe stares at you in silence, his face beginning to twist with sadness. His eyes stay on you and bites his tongue or tenses his jaw to try and get a hold of himself.

“Was there nothing else you could’ve done?” You ask.

He lets some seconds go by in silence and decides to not answer you. Your eyes disconnect from his and look around the room, trying to find something to ground yourself with. Rafe continues to look down at you, watching you get more and more hurt by the conversation.

“You could’ve ignored him.” You say with a shrug, faking a smile to emphasize your point of how easy the other options were. “You could have simply walked away with me.”

He doesn't answer you, so you continue, “You only proved him right by fighting him. He wanted to piss you off, and you did exactly what he wanted.”

Rafe's eyes fall to the ground, feeling as if he was back to being a small child. And he almost felt like one as he spoke, “He insulted you.”

“You think I don't know that?” You sigh the words. “I just didn’t take much offense to what he said because he was drunk and practically failing to stand straight.”

Rafe looks up and answers you. “I didn't know he was that drunk.”

“You...” You let out a breath, “You shouldn't have fought him...” You await his answer, but he clenches his jaw.

You shake your head at him and try to move away, but he does not let you. He follows your movements, never reaching for you, but stepping to the side and not letting you move. You take a step back again and sigh. He stares down at you.

“You are uncontrollable, Rafe.” You tell him, “You do not fight like a-”

“A normal person?”

“Yes,” You nod. “You fight as if you want to kill a person. And that is not normal. That is… terrifying.”

He watches you closely as your eyes tear up again at the last word. He knows you do not like to be mad at him, but he cannot bring himself to lie to you and say that he understands, because he still does not.

You let out a breath, and it’s so shaky, Rafe could hear it clearly, making him question it to himself. He does not wish to make you afraid of him, of course not. What happened on the night before had been reckless, yes, but he did not... he did not think it had been this bad.

Your cheerless eyes stay on him, and it hurts him to see it. You, someone who is always so sweet and caring towards him, have seen him in a completely different way than what he had always tried to be. He hurt you, of course, he did. Rafe had always promised you that whatever he showed you or wherever he brought you to, you would be safe. Because he would keep you safe. And, after all this time, he was the first person that made you feel unsafe. Not Aiden. Rafe.

All because he could not handle seconds of arguing with a drunk. And in those seconds, he went from being loving towards you to pushing you to the side to fight someone you know. And the only justification he could think of was how Aiden had offended you. He beat him up, and from the flashes of last night, he can't blame you from feeling this way.

Rafe hurt you, and now you are standing before him with shaking hands and a face covered with tears. It is his fault. His own fault. No one else's.

“I'm sorry.” He tells you, even when he knows that you do not wish to hear it. You simply look at him, and your hands come back to wipe away your tears. “You're afraid of me,” He concludes, making you pause.

You scan his face and notice how he tenses up as you stay silent.

“You-” He goes to repeat himself, but you stop him.

“No. I am afraid of what you will do,” You say. “To whoever else crosses you…”

Rafe looks at you, watching as yet another tear falls.

“I can't do it, Rafe.”

His eyes study you as if the words didn't make any sense to him. Your hands wipe the tears away again angrily, and you sniffle before speaking again.

“We can't-” You whisper to him, so, so softly, and with a voice so broken.

“Don't,” He whispers back to you.

You shake your head, feeling the tears come up again. Rafe moves his hand to come closer to you, and you practically jump when it lays over your waist, holding you like he usually does.

“I can't.” You tell him.

“No.” He whispers back at you once more.

“I need to, Rafe.” You tell him, watching as his face changes expression. “I can’t be with you.”

His eyes scan you in a panic, and his mouth opens to say something, failing repeatedly. Only after a few seconds is he able to say something.

“I’ll try-”

You look him in the eyes, pausing him.

“I don’t believe you.” You say to him, voice above a whisper, hurting him further.

Rafe stays silent, and you try to calm down with a very shaky deep breath. He comes closer to you, and you watch him as his face twists in further sadness. “Let me try.” You shake your head, and you see the growing glistening of his eyes, “Please.”

“You will hurt someone else.”

He shakes his head to emphasize his words, “Please, let me try.”

Rafe pulls you close to him as you watch him, and your heart squeezes tightly. You hate this.

“Please.” He whispers breathily. “Please. Just one more chance.” His thumbs caress you over your shirt as he awaits your answer.

“I don’t know.”

“I promise,” He tears up further, and you watch him. “I promise I will do my best, just… Please don’t leave, okay? Please.”

Your hand comes up and lays over his cheek. His skin is familiar, and his warmth is more than inviting. You stare into his eyes and think, even when you know which one would be the right answer for you.

His arms wrap around you, and he pulls you close to him. And for a few seconds, everything pauses, and you aren’t sure what to do.

Your heart is still rapidly beating in your chest, knocking against your rib cage in some sort of panicked song, afraid of what could come next. Not that you don’t trust him. You trust Rafe. But everything in you feels uncertain after yesterday. After what he did. How much he seemed out of his own body, and seeming as someone completely different from who you know as him.

Your fingers caress his cheek as he holds you, and your mind never stops. You have no clue if what you'll do the right thing. Everything tends to feel better with him. But your gut is beginning to tell you otherwise.

How strong can his words of promise be if he gets drunk or high? It isn’t that you even condone him of being any of those things, and you can't help but feel uncertain.

Rafe looks at you, quickly noticing the hesitation and the slight agitation. He knows you aren’t comfortable, and he isn’t sure how to feel about it.

“Tell me.” he whispers softly.

You don’t speak at first, but Rafe doesn’t back away, he simply scans your face for answers.

“I’m scared that you don’t mean it.” Your voice comes in such a faint whisper, you’re scared you might have to repeat the words because he couldn’t hear you.

“I mean it.” He whispers close to your face.

There are some seconds of silence.

“I mean it.” He repeats.

“Swear it.” You whisper, and he nods before saying it.

“I swear it.”

“You promise.”

“I promise.” He repeats after you, leaning close to your touch.

“I’m serious, Rafe,” you pause, and he nods, his eyes still filled with tears.

“I know.”

Your heart squeezes at his tone, and you scan his face for anything that could mean something else. You won’t find it.

“You’ll have to talk to him.” You whisper faintly, eyes half closed. “You’ll make sure everything is fixed with him. You’ll apologize.”

Rafe hesitates, but you hold the back of his head softly.

“You will apologize. Even if he doesn’t accept it…” You whisper to his lips, “Which is fair if he doesn’t.”

“Apologizing won’t do anything.” Rafe whispers back to you, holding you tightly and closer to him.

“It might not.” You shrug, “But it will matter to me.”

Rafe does not say or do anything for a bit, and you know he is fighting it in his head due to how much he does not want to do it. You watch him closely as he stays quiet, practically already knowing the answer that you’ll get just by the way he is looking at you.

Your hand moves over his cheek, which now you notice has a small bruise at the top, and Rafe then finally nods.

“I’ll do it.”

You slowly reach up and kiss him. The kiss is so soft and so loving that Rafe swears that it pulled all the air from his lungs. His arms tighten around you, and you melt against him, missing his touch and his kiss as if you had been separated for longer than a day.

You are led by Rafe to bed, and he takes a seat, bringing you to his lap. His arms let go of you, but his hands grab onto you. He grabs at your exposed thighs, at your waist or hips. And only after some moments, do his hands travel into the inside of your shirt, holding onto your skin and touching it as if it is the first time.

You separate from the kiss, and Rafe pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it to the ground. He then helps you take off yours, which also ends up on the floor. Your lips reconnect, and you’re pulled to lean in closer to him.

The bedroom is so silent, yet, with the new buzzing in your ears, you can’t hear the wind whistling anymore.

The kiss is slowly becoming rougher, and with a simple movement made from your hips, controlled by Rafe’s hands, a small moan comes out of your mouth. Rafe, with it, kisses you harder, and you’re left to try and tell your own body to shut up, due to how risky all of it is.

You two separate again, and Rafe’s lips lift from yours to lay on your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that leads to your shoulders and eventually to your chest. Your long breaths and breathy moans make Rafe’s body react instantly, from his hands grasping onto you tightly to the growing tightness in his pants. All from sounds.

Your hands move from Rafe’s hair to his wide shoulders, grabbing onto him as his warm kisses continue to be displayed all throughout your skin.

With your fingers back through his hair, you pull his head back up and bring your lips back together. The gesture alone made Rafe take hold of your hips again and move you on his lap, causing yet another sound leave your lips.

In the midst of the kiss, you feel Rafe touch the fabric of your underwear on your hips, and you bring your hands down to his lap. He grabs onto you tightly again, and you undo the button and zipper of his pants. With a swift move and with one of his hands away from your hips, Rafe pulls your underwear to the side and touches you.

A sound begins to leave your lips as his finger touches you, and Rafe brings his other hand to the back of your head to make sure you won’t pull away from the kiss, muffling your noises. His wet digits begin to move and reach your clit, worsening the fire beginning to burn at the bottom of your stomach.

Your hands, now laying over his chest, remain agitated, and your hips begin to involuntarily move against Rafe’s fingers. You forcefully pull away from the kiss, and your hands move over to Rafe’s pants again.

He doesn’t stop you, if anything he helps you push down his pants and boxers just enough.

“Come here.” He whispers at you while bringing his hand back to your hip and pulling you upwards on his lap.

You don’t answer verbally, but do it by doing as told. Rafe moves his hand away from your pussy, and helps you align perfectly before you begin to sink into his lap again. Both of you seem to stop breathing, and his cock slides inside you. Your eyes stay on his, as your mouth stays slightly open and his lenched shut.

You sit down, and Rafe can’t help but let out a small groan. Your breathing is heavy and is the only thing you can actually hear now. You peck Rafe’s lips softly, and his arms wrap around you as you do it. The next kiss is the same but longer and impossibly more loving than the one before.

When pulling away, Rafe kisses your neck once and then your shoulder, and his arms relax around you. With your knees on the bed as you straddle him, you begin to move upwards and downwards slowly and, as you do it, Rafe swears he will go insane with the speed you’re choosing to go at. But he remains quiet.

You begin to gain speed after a few movements, and Rafe lets go of you, bringing his arms behind himself to lean back and hold his torso upright. His eyes stay on you, watching as his cock disappears inside of you, and he can see, even in the dim lighting of the room, how wet you are.

Your hands move to his torso, and you feel like you cannot keep looking at Rafe, as his stare is way too intense for a moment where you need to be so quiet. Your nails on his skin bring chills to Rafe, yet all he could do was tense his jaw and stay silent.

As you keep on going, Rafe watches you without ever reaching for you and observes as you grow wetter and wetter with each movement. And the burning at the bottom of your stomachs seems even more intense at the sight of each other.

You can now see how your nails are leaving reddened trails on his skin. Nothing that would leave much of a mark, but, still, something that is getting a reaction from him - much to your amusement.

Rafe lifts one arm as he holds himself with the other, and his hand reaches for your hand on his stomach. He pulls you towards him and that pauses your movements for just a bit. Your lips touch again, and you let out a small sigh. Rafe’s hand moves in between your bodies, and, while in the midst of the kiss, his fingers find your clit.

Caught off guard, you moan against his lips due to how sensitive your body feels, and Rafe smiles at you, ending the kiss. Your hips begin to lift from his lap again, and his hand does not stop, only making it harder for you to keep quiet.

Your eyes are closed, and your faces are still so close to each other, you could practically feel each other's breathing.

The fire of pleasure is beginning to spread all throughout your body, making it harder and harder for you. And all Rafe does as a response is to shush you with his mouth against your own lips.

With it, you try to pull his hand away from you to make this position more doable without a risk of you moaning, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he puts down more pressure into your clit while he circles it, making you pull away from his face and sit back down.

“You want to switch?” Rafe whispers at you as you do so, and you can only shake your head as a response, knowing that if you dare to whisper, the risk of sound doubles.

Your hips continue moving up and down, seeming to take his dick deeper and deeper with absolute no sense. You bite your own lips whenever the pleasure increases due to him hitting a certain spot, and Rafe is left to watch without doing close to nothing.

His finger keeps circling your clit watching as it affects the way you move on top of him. You never seem to leave your rhythm, even when he speeds up as a test. He is sick.

Your thighs begin to burn at the movements, but you refuse to ask to switch positions, even when it sounds like an amazing idea. So, you speed up. Rafe’s fingers stop for just a bit as you do so, and you watch as that seems to affect him now. He can feel the way your pussy clenches around his dick, and he's the one that struggles to not make a sound this time.

He reopens his eyes, and the look he gives you just tells you everything. You just started an entire game.

You know this isn’t ideal given your circumstances and fear of making a sound, but you have to admit, it feels good to do it.

Rafe responds by speeding up his fingers, and that sure does make you pause for a second. Again, you try to pull his hand off, and the fucker thrusts upwards, causing you to let out a quick high pitched squeak. And that does make Rafe stop, probably remembering how much he should not make you moan.

After some seconds to breathe, you lean towards him and push down his chest, making him lay down on the bed. You hover over him, and his other hand is now free to roam your body.

He kisses you as his hand pulls away from your pussy, and both of his hands go over to your ass, squeezing it hard and causing you to whimper against his mouth.

“You need to be quiet, baby. Come on.” He whispers against your lips, holding back his laughter.

And as he says it, he holds you in place and thrusts up into you once. Whatever words you were about to say to him were lost in your mouth, and, for your safety, your hands come up to his chest to you pull yourself upwards.

Whatever teasing smile Rafe had quickly fell due the view he gained from his joking around. As you begin to ride him all over again, Rafe feels the absolute need concentrate.

Your movements are quick right as you start, and Rafe’s hands stay on your thighs as you move. You do your best at not making any sounds, even with possible smacking of skin. Gosh, but it does feel good, even when your thighs are already burning.

Up and down, you continue, and you slide your hands over to your legs, holding onto Rafe’s hands and making sure he does not do anything.

The burning of your body worsens by the seconds, and Rafe’s hands squeezing your flesh is just an indicator that he too is close. You look down as your hands smooth over his muscled arms, starting with his forearms, and you continue to do your best at not moaning.

Your movements get slightly quicker, and Rafe hears you whisper out some sort of curse word as you do it. He wishes he could tease you for it, but he knows damn well that he is no place to do it. With your soft hands over his, gripping onto each other as his dick slides inside of you with ease due to how wet you are, yet so tight at the same time. Rafe swears that he has never focused so hard on a task as this one.

When getting so close to finally coming, you let go of one of Rafe’s hands, and he automatically knows what you want from him. His hand moves over to your clit and does the last needed movements. And your orgasm feels stronger than you would ever expect it to.

Rafe helps you ride it out. Your movements are sloppier as you continue to move, and you finally let yourself breathe. Your breathing is shaky and Rafe could hear the very small whimper after that breath.

When it ends, you slowly lay back down onto Rafe’s chest for a break. He brings the hand he had on your hip to your face, moving your hair back as your hands stay on his arms.

After seconds of silence, you look up at Rafe, lifting a bit off his body and still with him inside you. You know he hasn’t come yet, therefore, your night is nowhere near complete.

You pull at his other hand, the one that had played with your clit all this time, and he watches you as you bring it up to your face to lick a finger at a time. Your eyes stay on his as you do it, and the look he gives you only makes you smile as one of his wet fingers slides over your tongue.

“Fuck you.” He whispers at you before pulling his hand away from you and kissing your smiling mouth, muffling your giggles as he does so.

As you holds you tightly and flips you around, your smile disappears as you know he won't gloss over what you just did.

IT IS FINALLY POSTEEED!!! I PROMISE THAT I AM BACK NOW, I DO. I FINALLY WILL FINISH THIS GOD DAMN STORYYYY.

Hope you liked it <3

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familyvideostevie · 2 years ago

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october first

day one: steve harrington after the events of august, steve and bee girl (you) wake up in your new house | no good at waiting one-shot, fluff | 1.1k

You wake up with a shiver. The morning sun bathes one wall of your bedroom in pink light. Your sheer curtains flutter in the wind and you snuggle deeper into your bed, tugging on the covers.

“Hey!” someone next to you grumbles. “S’cold in here, give it back.”

Steve tugs on the duvet but you don’t relinquish your hold, instead rolling with it until you’re pressed against his back.

“I know,” you mumble, eyes fluttering. Your bedroom isn’t really decorated yet but you’ve got the basics. Mattress, bed frame, dresser. Mismatched bedside tables you found at an antique sale two towns over and a rug Joyce gave you from the Byers garage. The rest of the house is coming together slowly. You have yet to get a dining table but you do have a couch and lots of kitchen utensils. Bob gave you an old bookshelf and the kids pooled money together to buy you a welcome mat. The good people of Hawkins have treated you and Steve moving into the little farmhouse as an invitation to get rid of all of their junk.

You love it.

Steve groans and shifts, releasing the duvet and turning so that he’s facing you, nose to nose. You can barely see the eyes you love so much through his lashes. “Morning,” he says. “We’re going to have to buy more blankets if you’re going to steal them every morning.”

“You’re the one who left the window open last night,” you remind him. He scoots even closer to you and shoves his face into your neck.

“Because you like fall air,” he says. His lips are warm on your skin. “Never say I don’t do anything for you.”

Living with Steve is pretty much a dream. Even when he leaves his shoes in the way, even when he doesn’t clean his toothpaste from the sink. Even when you forget to do the dishes or don’t put your laundry away. It’s fun. It’s like every day is a dream come true.

“No one says that,” you laugh. You twine your fingers in his hair. “Especially not me.”

Steve makes a pleased sound. “What are we doing today?” he asks. The last two months have been nonstop. Finishing the house, finding furniture, moving out of Bob’s for you and the farm loft for him. You haven’t had time for a proper housewarming yet.

“Nothing,” you say. He pulls back to look at you, eyebrows raised.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Hell yeah,” he says, running the pad of his finger over your top lip. “Finally a day off we don’t have to spend running around town.”

“We have to go see about that table tomorrow, though. After work.”

Steve flops back on his pillow. “It never ends,” he says.

“Nope,” you say, popping the p. “But it’ll be worth it.”

“Well, duh.” He raises his arms above his head and stretches. “We need a table so we can play beer pong at our housewarming.”

“And so we can eat at it, Steve.”

He smirks. “Oh, yeah. That too. And so we can do all sorts of nasty things on it—”

You place your hand over his mouth. “That’s enough from you, Harrington.” He licks your palm but you don’t pull it away. “Behave.”

His expression morphs into what you think he thinks are puppy dog eyes but really he just looks like he ate something sour unexpectedly. He mumbles against your hand and you remove it. “Christ, honey,” he says. “I was gonna suffocate.”

“What a way to go,” you deadpan. He laughs and turns away from you, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and stretching again. You admire the freckled expanse of his bare back.

“You hungry?” he asks. “We could do pancakes.” He stands and wanders to the closet where he pulls out two sweatshirts. One he throws to you and the other he drags over his head.

“When we get a dog are you going to make it breakfast, too?”

Steve’s head pops out of the hoodie — one of yours, you’re pretty sure — and scoffs. “You think you’re funny with this dog-dad shit,” he says. “You watch. I’m going to be so normal. Nothing like Dustin’s mom and their cat. Nothing.”

“Sure, Steve,” you coo. You sit up in bed and pull on your own sweatshirt, borderline giddy with the sheer serenity of the morning.

Here you are, in your home with the person you love most in the world, talking about getting a dog.

This time last year you weren’t even friends yet. You remind him.

Steve snorts and crosses his arms, leaning on the dresser. “I was half in love with you already.”

“Was not,” you gasp. “We’d only been mean to each other!” You hadn’t really liked Steve until you both sat soaking wet in your car. You’d been curious about him before that. Interested. A little obsessed. But it warms you from head to toe to know you’d had him captivated from moment one.

He grins his most boyish grin, the one he usually sends you before he’s about to do something that will make your face hot. “Exactly. I had a dream about you the first day we met.”

“Really?”

He nods and rubs the back of his neck like he’s suddenly embarrassed. “Yeah,” he says. “I don’t think I told anyone, though.”

“What was it about?”

Yeah, he’s totally blushing. “Uh.” he says. “It wasn’t anything big. Just you buying apples from me, I think.”

You can’t help it. You laugh. You laugh so hard your stomach aches. “Oh my god, Steve,” you gasp. “I told you to fuck off and you had a dream about me.” You’ve almost been together a whole year and he still surprises you. You hope it’s going to be like this for the rest of your lives.

He’s scowling. “Yeah, whatever.” Even as he grumbles he makes his way back to the bed and sits on the edge of it. He puts his hand on your leg through the duvet and squeezes gently. “Okay, funny girl, do you want apples or chocolate chips?”

“I’ll help,” you say. “Both, obviously.”

“But first…” Steve says, leaning in. Your eyes flutter shut and he pauses a breath away from your lips. “Your breath stinks,” he whispers.

“Speak for yourself,” you whisper back. He snickers and then leans in, hand framing your face. His lips are a little chapped but his kiss is as sweet as always, tender and loving. He kisses you once, twice, then trails his lips along your cheek.

“Morning,” he says, as if you’d just woken up. “Love you, bee girl.”

You sigh with happiness. “Love you back.”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

#fvspromptober23 #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #no good at waiting #steve harrington x

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tgmsunmontue · 9 months ago

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Season to Taste - 5/42

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

“I don’t like wine.”

“I don’t care. You need to learn the flavors. What it can add to food. Which ones might go better with certain dishes.”

“Oh.”

So he sits, and is made to try a variety of reds and whites and then have them with certain dishes and okay, there are some he doesn’t hate, but it still wouldn’t be his first choice. He can tell that some of the food tastes better when drunk with different wines, and vice versa. Then he’s dragged along to the family vineyard, taught about the pruning and pressing, the inclusion of the skins of the grapes and the fungus that can make them sweet and he’s equal parts fascinated and horrified.

… … …

He’s lying in the bed, coming down from the high and Bradley can’t wipe the grin from his face. Orgasms always put him in a good mood, doubly-so when they involve someone else. It’s why those he works with are so often telling him he needs to go out and get fucked. God, the endorphin high is something else. Jake seems equally pleased with their time together so far, in no rush to leave, his lips and fingers tracing paths over Bradley’s cooling skin which has been half-heartedly wiped clean of both their come using Bradley’s shirt. He’s warm and drowsy but also contemplating suggesting a shower, both to get clean but also to wake himself up. He can sleep when he doesn’t have an attractive man in his bed.

“Did you know you were my first kiss with a guy?”

Bradley startles a little, opens his eyes to find Jake peering at him with mischievous eyes and he’s so fucking unfairly gorgeous, even in the waning evening light.

“What?”

“Yeah. First kiss. Was great but it freaked me out. Kind of why I ran.”

“Okay…” Bradley says, and he really doesn’t know what to do with this information. Huh. He knows DADT was repealed in 2011, and now thinking back to 2008 then he supposes there was more than one reason for Jake to run. He’s not running now though.

“Yeah. I mean, it was almost ten years ago. I wasn’t hanging around waiting for you or anything. But, uh, it was… formative.”

“Formative huh?” Bradley asks, shifting a little and grinning, is enjoying the fact that Jake can’t seem to stop touching him.

“Well, I did think European guys were much hotter than American guys, but it turns out you’re American after all…”

“Disappointed?” Bradley asks, a little worried what the answer might be. He’s had it happen before, guys think he’s one thing and then found out the almost opposite is true. Not always with regards to his nationality, but his personality and how he’s sometimes portrayed on screen. Sure, he has a temper and he lets it get the best of him in the kitchen sometimes, but it’s never translated to the bedroom. Ever. If anything the opposite is true. Not that he needs to get into that with Jake.

“Do I seem disappointed?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question.”

“Baby, I am definitely not disappointed in any way…” Jake says, and his kiss is slow and purposeful, his body bracketing Bradley against the bed, pushing him down and it’s exactly where he likes to be and he lets out a moan of approval or appreciation. Regardless Jake takes it for the encouragement it is and rolls his hips, creating friction between them despite the fact that their bodies are almost flush with one another from thigh to chest.

“You have anywhere you need to be tomorrow?”

“Nope. On leave remember. Only my sisters and they know where I am…” Jake says, giving Bradley a slow up-and-down look and slow smirk which has him laughing.

“Yeah? You want to stay the night?”

“We trying for round two?”

“Seven course degustation menu…” Bradley jokes, flexing his own hips to add to the building friction.

“What’s that?”

“Seven rounds…” Bradley says, which he knows is impossible, however –

“Well, I always did like a challenge.”

Bradley throws his head back and laughs.

… … …

Jake sends a quick message to his sisters to let them know not to expect him home, even though it’s late he knows one of them will be waiting up for him. God he’s glad they have no idea the type of shit he gets up to at work. They’d never fucking sleep with worry. He knows they don’t particularly like that he’s in the service, but they’ve always been nothing but supportive of his life choices, even when they’ve had to give up on some of their own he’s always been allowed to follow his dreams. He’s the baby of their family and he totally leans into it, taking advantage of the fact that all his sisters have soft spots for him. Letting them know he’s safe right now is the least he can do.

Safe physically at least. A little part of him worries that maybe staying isn’t the wisest course of action, that the fantasy he’d created in his mind around Leo is never going to stand up to close inspection. The sex so far has been superb, and he’s already shifted him from being Italian in his head to American, but sleeping has always felt like an even more intimate act to him. Sharing the little before-bed routines a person might have.

At least Leo wants to have some type of mystery, has closed the door to the ensuite very firmly, the lock sliding home and Jake bites back a grin, remembering hook-ups taking a piss in front of him. He doesn’t have a problem with bodily functions, but he also doesn’t mind the build-up to that level of familiarity. He sobers then, realizes that he and Leo aren’t likely to build up to anything given Jake’s profession and Leo’s job, which he has to admit he doesn’t really understand why he’s travelling for work when his work is making food for people. Ah well, he can ask more about it later.

… … …

He wakes up to the smell of bacon and eggs, along with coffee and he stretches, disappointed to find the bed empty even if it maybe explains the reason for the smells. He wonders if he should brave going out to the kitchen, given that he doesn’t exactly have clean clothes. Plus there’s the risk of running into the other people who are staying here. And if Leo is planning on bringing him breakfast in bed then who is Jake to stop him? He settles back and scrolls through his phone and answers a few messages and sends a couple of photos from his last week into various group chats.

“Hey, morning…You’re awake.”

“Morning. I’m an early riser.”

“Not as early as me…” Leo says, and he’s sliding a tray onto the bedside table and Jake goggles at it. There’s the bacon and eggs he could smell, but there are also sausages and grilled tomatoes, then some golden and crunchy-looking thing which he’s hoping is some form of potato. There’s four slices of bread and little pats of butter slowly melting on them, then another dish of what look like mushrooms which he can tell were cooked in garlic judging from the smell.

“Holy shit, how much do you think I eat?”

“Well, it’s my first chance to cook for you, so I had to pull out a few stops. Plus you need to keep up your energy…” Leo says, sitting on the bed and leaning forward to give him a kiss.

“Do I now?” Jake asks, and he hadn’t planned on spending the day in bed but it’s not like he has anywhere else he has to be.

“Uh huh. I did make that for both of us though…”

“Thank fuck… Do you have any sauce?”

Leo blinks at him, frowns and then shakes his head.

“No. Here, let me make a perfect mouthful…”

Jake raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Just a mouthful huh?” Jake asks, and Leo looks at him with a slightly confused look before he’s flushing bright red and ducking, his head shaking.

“Jesus you’re incorrigible.”

“Well, if you’re going to sit there looking like that and offering to feed me I’m definitely going to get ideas.”

He barely catches the roll of eyes but Leo busies himself making a little forkful of food that includes some of the golden-crunchy potato, along with some of the tomato and a sausage piece and Jake really does prefer things with sauce, but he opens his mouth obligingly, meeting Leo’s eyes and doesn’t miss the way his eyes drop to Jake’s lips which are wrapped around the tines of the fork.

“Mmm…” Jake says, and he chews thoughtfully. It does taste good, and he’s looking forward to having more. “It’s delicious.”

“Good…”

“Could use a little sauce though.”

PART SIX

#Season to taste #Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #AU

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gravitywonagain · 7 months ago

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Sake and Cider at Sunrise

(a Fresh Powder in the Pine Trees story)

“Tomorrow morning, what are you doing?”

Lan Zhan is sitting at his desk in the middle of reading through something that looks exceedingly boring. Probably budget reports or something equally dull. Wei Ying isn't interrupting him so much as saving him.

Wei Ying half-sits on the edge of the desk as he grabs the paperwork from Lan Zhan’s hands and skims it. It is a budget report.

“I --” Lan Zhan reaches to take the report back, but Wei Ying is faster, pulling it away as he interrupts whatever Lan Zhan was about to say.

“Nope. The answer is ‘meeting Wei Ying at Dafan for fresh pow.’”

He grins as Lan Zhan lets out a small sigh, his shoulders slumping under the burden that is being Wei Ying’s friend.

In the most deadpan manner possible, Lan Zhan looks at Wei Ying and repeats, “Meeting Wei Ying at Dafan for fresh pow.”

Wei Ying bursts out laughing, almost falling off the desk, “You should say ‘pow’ way more often. I’ll die. It’s amazing,” he says, getting control over himself again. “Okay. But really. You wanna go?”

“I… sure. What time?”

“You’re gonna love this: Meet me there at five-thirty.”

The confusion on Lan Zhan’s face is understandable.

“In the morning?”

“In the morning.”

The skepticism is... also understandable, if a little dramatic.

“You, and I quote, ‘hate waking up before dawn with the fire of the noonday sun which is way better than the dawn sun anyway.’”

Wei Ying laughs again, “I can’t believe you remember all that!”

Lan Zhan’s expression shifts to one part it’s true so what the fuck are you on about with this five-thirty nonsense, one part am I being pranked?, and one part I listen to the things you say and Wei Ying isn’t quite sure what to do with any of that.

“But, yeah, that’s true. Unless it’s for powder. I will do many things for good powder.”

Now Lan Zhan looks like he’s filing that bit of information away for later, which is not concerning in the least. He turns his body to face Wei Ying and gives him his full attention. It’s a lot.

“Okay. What should I bring?”

Right. Backcountry.

“Any gear you would want for hiking and powder skiing. You can borrow Wen Ning’s skins and bindings, I already asked. They won’t be perfect, but they’ll do for now, and I’ve got beacons and shit that I can lend you. You’ve done avalanche safety, right?”

“Every year since I was twelve.”

“Wow, say that with a little more disdain, Lan Zhan.”

“It was a requirement in school and now a requirement for my certifications.”

Wei Ying chuckles at the weird contempt Lan Zhan has for his many certs and their annual requirements. “Okay. Well, maybe this will make it feel more worth it.”

“If you say so.” Lan Zhan does not sound convinced.

“I do! The snow report looks epic!”

“Epic?”

There’s a small quirk in the corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth that makes Wei Ying’s heart beat faster.

Wei Ying nods, “Epic, Lan Zhan.”

“I hope you don’t mean that in the alpinist sense.”

In the alpinist sense, “epic” would mean that they hike, get lost, someone’s binding breaks, a freak storm hits, they have to dig in for the night, they leave at least one piece of gear on the mountain to be found in the spring, and, eventually, they make it back to the cars, hungry, tired, and probably after running into their own search party on the way down. This is absurd. Lan Zhan is such a fucking nerd. Wei Ying has no idea what he sees in him.

He rolls his eyes but can’t quite keep himself from smiling, “When have I ever meant anything in the alpinist sense?”

Finding out Lan Zhan was a budding alpinist had been almost as bad as the minor panic Wei Ying had over the golfing scare with Jin Zixuan. Who wants to freeze their ass off, crossing crevasses on stupidly unstable ladders and getting hypoxic, just to stand on top of a mountain? Lan Zhan, apparently.

“I will get you on big mountains one day.”

“Only if I can ride down.”

“Hm.”

Lan Zhan narrows his eyes, calculating but smug. Like he’s just won, or figured out how to win but needs to adjust his strategy.

Wei Ying kind of hates it. But it’s kind of captivating, too, and hot. Very hot.

Especially when Lan Zhan leans in slightly and Wei Ying mirrors him, caught in the gravity of Lan Zhan’s sharp gaze. Lan Zhan’s eyes flick to Wei Ying’s lips and Wei Ying is about to say something about them being in the fucking Ski School office when, suddenly, Lan Zhan snatches the budget reports out of Wei Ying’s hands and leans back in his chair.

Smug, indeed.

It’s still dark when Wei Ying pulls into the Dafan parking lot in his and the Wens’ well-loved, mostly-red ‘98 Subaru Outback. Did he make fun of Wen Qing for being a stereotype when she bought it? Yes. Does he love driving it around the mountains because it is, objectively, a good mountain car? Also, yes. Of course, next to Lan Zhan’s clean, white 2018 Jeep Cherokee, it looks like an absolute beater.

Wei Ying looks at the clock on the dash as he cuts the engine. 05:27. Fuck yeah. He zips up his jacket, grabs the two thermoses from the passenger seat, and gets out of the car to meet Lan Zhan where he’s lifting the Jeep’s hatchback.

It’s cold and quiet. Dark. The sun hasn’t even really started lighting the sky yet. Wei Ying breathes in the mountain air, pine trees and snow and granite, and lets it freeze his lungs for a moment. His shoes crunch on the snow and gravel as he walks toward Lan Zhan.

“Good morning, Sunshine!”

“Good morning, Wei Ying. You’re… awake.”

Wei Ying smiles at Lan Zhan’s surprise, “Yeah, well, I drove here, so I sure hope so.”

“Mn.”

Their breath condenses in the air and swirls in the light from Lan Zhan’s open door.

Wei Ying hands the cleaner, less dented, stolen from Wen Qing thermos to Lan Zhan, then turns to open his own hatchback to begin sorting through his own gear.

He can see Lan Zhan out of the corner of his eyes as he does. Standing as if frozen, with the thermos held out in front of him, confusion radiating off him like body heat.

“A Wei Family treat for the top!” says Wei Ying.

It doesn't seem to clear up Lan Zhan's questions.

“Okay, well, yours is just tea, you fucking lightweight." Never. He will never let it go. "But mine is sake and cider!”

Lan Zhan's eyebrow pops up, but it's an expression of curiosity rather than confusion. Wei Ying doesn't let himself think for too long about how well he can read Lan Zhan's silences these days. Or how fucking sculpted Lan Zhan's cheekbones and jaw are.

“My dad used to make up thermoses for my mom when she was backyard touring. He made them when we were all together, too, and let me have sips at the top.”

“Of sake?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t much, just a taste. But now it’s a tradition.”

Lan Zhan nods and sets the thermos down on the bumper of the jeep as he gathers his gear. He, as it turns out, already had touring bindings and skins, or his brother did, so they’re actually more prepared than Wei Ying had planned for, which is perfect.

“You’re gonna have your own gear by the end of the season,” says Wei Ying with a grin.

“Am I?”

“You are. And it’s going to be all the really nice, expensive stuff and I’m gonna be so jealous.”

“Hm. We’ll see.”

—

The hike starts out smooth, though Lan Zhan struggles a bit with the grade of the climb. Wei Ying cheats a little by putting his own climbing bars up, "Stiletto mode," he calls it, and Lan Zhan grumbles even though he's not the one breaking trail.

“Have you ever actually worn stilettos?” Lan Zhan asks.

“Oh, Honey, just wait until you see me in drag. You will lose your gotdamn mind.”

Lan Zhan is mostly silent as they hike. Wei Ying lets the quiet linger.

It's early. They're surrounded by soft, fluffy powder. The air is still and freezing.

By the time they're halfway up the hill, they can turn off and stow their headlamps, the cold light of dawn shading everything blue. When they reach the top, the sun is peeking over the ridgeline, painting the sky and snow with pinks and purple, gilding the moutnains across the valley, sparkiling on the calm lake water in the distance.

Wei Ying drops his pack, fishing out his thermos and watching Lan Zhan do the same. He takes off his gloves to unscrew the cap, to press the release and pour himself a little cup of nostalgia.

The hike wasn't particualrly long or arduous. He feels his legs engaged, not tired. They still protest when he sits, though the chill of the snow through his snowpants eases some of their complaints. The sake eases them further.

Lan Zhan's eyes fall closed as he sips his tea, still standing, skis and poles stabbed upright into the snow next to him.

"This is nice," he says, and Wei Ying thinks he's not talking about the tea.

He's so beautiful in the morning light. It might be worth waking up early just to see him like this: serene in the cold, lit gold by the sun.

Steam rises from his thermos cap, turning his nose pink.

"Yeah," says Wei Ying, "yeah, it is."

After a calm moment, they begin to strip the skins off, the ripping sound loud in the near silent valley. Wei Ying shows Lan Zhan how to fold them in on themselves so that they won't stick to anything and everything in his pack.

When Wei Ying grabs his toolkit and gets to work switching his bindings around, Lan Zhan asks if he can try Wei Ying's drink.

Well, no. He asks if he can try the "Wei Family treat," but Wei Ying can't think about that too hard right now. He just grins and asks, "You gonna pass out on me at the top of this mountain, Lan Zhan?"

"Just a small sip," Lan Zhan says, taking the proffered thermos.

The face he makes rivals the cute scrunching of his nose when he tried beer for the first time.

“This is not sake or apple cider," he says, disdain and distrust in his voice.

Wei Ying laughs, “It is!”

“No, this is brewed rice alcohol and instant cider mix.”

“You’ve seen my car. You think I can afford good alcohol?”

“I think this is closer to a cleaning solution than food grade,” he says, sniffing the thermos, wincing dramatically, and then handing it back to Wei Ying.

Wei Ying takes the thermos laughing, “Not all of us own a mountain, Lan Zhan!”

He loves bitchy Lan Zhan. He does not understand how Lan Zhan has managed to convince everybody that he’s all serious and stoic all the time.

“Real sake need not be expensive,” Lan Zhan says, sounding exactly as rich as he is.

“Like you’ve ever even tasted ‘real’ sake,” Wei Ying shoots back with a smile.

“I’m not sure I’ve tasted any sake.”

Wei Ying snorts into a new bout of laughter and drops to his knees in the snow next to his splitboard. He giggles his way through configuring it back into a snowboard shape while Lan Zhan adjusts his ski bindings.

“Alright,” says Wei Ying when he calms himself enough to speak, “Are you going to keep making fun of me? Or are we going to get some sunrise fresh tracks?”

“Just waiting for you to finish minor surgery on your gear.”

Wei Ying has to stop strapping in because he can’t breathe. It’s the deadpan snark that just fucking kills him. That bone-dry delivery. That playful glint in his honey-brown eyes. That deep, smooth baritone. Getting off track.

“Okay, punchy,” he says with his arms resting on his knees and his lungs labored with his amusement, “Is this what alcohol does to you before you pass out? Do we need to wait for you to sober up from your single, tiny sip?”

Lan Zhan makes a face that is somehow haughty and embarrassed and unimpressed all while saying fuck you with his eyes.

Wei Ying loves it.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Wei Ying says to no one in particular as he stands and clips the chest strap of his back pack together. He checks himself, looks around their spot. Nothing looks out of place.

He shakes the adrenaline into his arms, feeling the moment shift. Lan Zhan, too, seems to feel the change in mood as he adjusts his goggles on his face. They share a look, a nod. It feels as natural as the smell of pine trees on the breeze.

“Okay,” Wei Ying says with a smile, “let’s go.”

Wei Ying hops his board once, takes a deep breath of cold mountain air, drops his nose into the bowl, and floats.

Riding in untracked powder down a steep, open slope is one of his favorite things in life. He carves into the mountain and feels it carry him. His toe-edge cuts through the powder and he leans into the slope, dragging his hand through the snow just to catch it on his glove. It’s light, airy, cold. The wind rushes in his ears and he hears his own heartbeat.

His shoulders roll with the turns and his hips follow, easy as anything, used to this from years and years of muscle memory. He cruises down the slope, big easy turns, powder spraying in his wake. The sun is still lancing its rays across the mountain and it sparkles with the colors of dawn. He flows with it. His knees bend into the stretch, toes curling in his boots, weight shifting without him ever having to think about it.

He sees Lan Zhan fly past him and the cold stings his lungs. Lan Zhan is beautiful in motion. This is not the first time he’s thought this. But, here, in Wei Ying’s world of quiet mountains and fresh powder, Lan Zhan is beautiful. His turns are clean and graceful, a slow rhythm building when he plants a pole.

For a moment, Wei Ying sees his baba.

When he meets Lan Zhan at the bottom of the hill, Wei Ying is smiling so hard he can’t control it. He, very carefully, does not spray Lan Zhan with snow when he stops, choosing to stop down mountain on his toes. There will be more laps. This one he wants to be as smooth and perfect as their first tracks. He wants so badly for Lan Zhan to be happy, to be enjoying this with him.

“What do you think?” he asks, trying not to let his anticipation color his voice.

Lan Zhan turns toward him, then looks back up at the mountain, then back to Wei Ying. It’s not easy to see behind the goggles, but there’s a fire lit inside him.

He smiles at Wei Ying. It’s small, a twitch of his lips, but real and young and happy. The same almost childish exuberance colors his voice when he says, “Again.”

The second lap is excellent, not only because Wei Ying gets to stare at Lan Zhan’s ass for the entire hike up, but also because the ride down is just as floaty, just as soft and perfect and breathtaking as the first. He does manage to spray Lan Zhan with powder this time and Lan Zhan’s unimpressed face kills Wei Ying for a second time before 8am.

The sun shines bright in the sky on the third hike up and already the heat is rising. They begin to strip layers even before they start the climb -- jackets stowed in backpacks as they each drink some water and reset their gear.

Wei Ying’s shirt comes off about halfway up the mountain.

At the top, Wei Ying finds that Lan Zhan’s insulation layer has been tied around his waist and that there’s a silver necklace chain barely visible under the collar of his henley.

When he asks about it, Lan Zhan takes his gloves off and pulls it free. It’s a family necklace, he explains, a diamond and aquamarine accented platinum snowflake on a platinum chain. His brother has a matching one, so do his father and uncle.

He trails off and Wei Ying thinks there’s more to the story, but he doesn’t want to press. Not now. Not the time.

They glide down the slope, crossing nobody’s tracks but their own. It’s quiet and peaceful and it’s just them. Only them. A perfect kind of solitude.

It’s not until the fifth hike up that Lan Zhan finally gives in to the heat.

Their muscles and bodies are warm from exertion, midday is truly upon them. In the rising temperatures Lan Zhan stops climbing, plants his poles and starts removing his pack.

The sudden cessation of hiking noise and the sliding plastic sound of a backpack buckle behind him causes Wei Ying to stop and turn. When he does, he sees Lan Zhan, gloves stowed on his grips, shirt coming off over his head, winter-pale skin shining in the high noon sun. (Best sun. Best sun for so many reasons now.)

Wei Ying’s brain breaks a little.

It’s one thing to know that someone is an athlete. It is another to see the sculpted muscle and lean lines that that entails. It’s a third to see all of that for the first time surrounded by mountains and powder and pine trees and perfectly lit by winter sunlight and the surrounding snow. Wei Ying wishes he had his camera.

“The Heavens have blessed us this day.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan sounds both pleased and annoyed as he tucks his shirt into his backpack. The gemstone snowflake hangs between his collarbones, askew from his movement.

“Seriously, Lan Zhan. Holy fuck. How is that fair?”

The man has a six-pack and sex lines and still manages to look genuinely confused by Wei Ying’s reaction. The audacity.

“I bet you have a gym in your house, don’t you.”

“I do,” Lan Zhan says easily, putting his gloves back on and drawing attention to his forearms. As if Wei Ying weren’t already absurdly attracted to him.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Lan Zhan’s shoulders and chest and arms flex as he pulls his poles out of the snow and gestures with one up the hill. It doesn’t even look deliberate which drives Wei Ying crazy. His snow pants sit low on his hips and Wei Ying wants, almost desperately, for a reason to make Lan Zhan go first so he can check out his back muscles as he hikes. Nothing comes to mind. He settles for maybe, possibly, getting a repeat wardrobe change on their next lap.

Fuck, he wants to see those muscles work.

“Yeah,” Wei Ying lets his eyes drag over Lan Zhan one more time before turning back up the trail, “I’m gonna go bury my head in the snow to cool off now. Thanks. Where’s an avalanche when you need one?” He stabs his poles into the snow and grabs his t-shirt from his waistband.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting my fucking shirt back on. I have enough self-esteem issues, thank --”

“Don’t.”

There’s something in Lan Zhan’s voice that forces Wei Ying to turn and look at him. Something vulnerable and raw.

“Don’t?”

“Please,” he says softly, “I like looking at you.”

Wei Ying feels speared open by that. He feels… The blush that creeps up his chest is bared already.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan. How are you so fucking sincere?”

Pink graces Lan Zhan’s ears as he holds Wei Ying’s eyes. He says nothing. He doesn’t look away.

Wei Ying gives.

“Okay. Okay, the shirt’s staying off.”

When they reach the peak and start stripping the skins off their skis, Wei Ying does, in fact, stick his face in the snow. It only helps a little.

They finish after a sixth lap.

Lan Zhan does take off his shirt again as he leads the hike up.

Wei Ying, somehow, doesn’t die about it.

The next day, after lessons are closed, Lan Zhan meets him by the instructor lockers and hands him the thermos he’d taken home. When Wei Ying grabs it, it’s heavier than he expects and it sloshes like it’s full. He quirks an eyebrow at Lan Zhan, but Lan Zhan just nods at it, clearly waiting for Wei Ying to take a sip. So he does.

It’s hot and sweet and… alcoholic? It’s smooth and thick, but not syrupy, and smells spiced.

“This is delicious, Lan Zhan!”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan looks smug as hell and says, “That is sake and cider.”

Wei Ying’s laughter can probably be heard all the way in HR, he shakes so hard with it.

He loves it when Lan Zhan is a bitch.

#wangxian #mdzs #the untamed #fanfiction #ski resort au #fpitpt #my writing #shitty sake and cider is a my family tradition and yes my dad did let me have some even when i was pretty young #ours was indeed cider packets mixed with really awful sake #i have since had a better version #but this will always be the best version for the top of the mountain right before you strap in and ride down

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brainddeadd · 7 months ago

Text

Three: The Café Confrontation

The sight of Luke Hughes standing in front of you felt like the earth had shifted under your feet. He wasn’t just here for his usual black coffee—he was looking at you. His gaze held recognition, like he knew the truth you’d tried to hide behind a mask.

“Large black coffee?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Luke smiled, but there was something different in it this time—something warmer, softer. He leaned on the counter, eyes never leaving yours.

“You left this,” he said, holding up the sunflower charm bracelet.

Your heart sank. There was no denying it now. You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, reaching for the bracelet. But Luke pulled it back slightly, just out of your reach.

“So… it was you.” His voice was low, curious, and almost teasing.

You froze, heat crawling up your neck. “I—what do you mean?”

Luke tilted his head, studying you like he was putting the final pieces of a puzzle together. “Sunflower,” he said quietly, a small grin tugging at his lips.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He leaned a little closer across the counter. “You can’t lie to me. I know it’s you.”

Panic fluttered in your chest. “Look, it was just a stupid chat app thing. It didn’t mean anything—”

Luke’s expression softened. “It meant something to me.”

The weight of his words hit you like a tidal wave. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, stunned that the hockey star standing in front of you—the same one you’d admired from a distance—cared enough to chase after someone like you.

A Chance at the Truth

The café was quiet, with only a few scattered customers engrossed in their laptops. It felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

Luke rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little nervous for the first time. “I’ve been looking for you since the gala. I knew I’d find you, but…” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t expect it to be you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly Cinderella,” you muttered.

“Maybe not.” He grinned. “But you’re something better.”

You blinked, stunned into silence. Luke Hughes—the Luke Hughes—was standing here, telling you that you were more than enough. It felt like you were caught in a dream, and any moment, you’d wake up back in your dorm, alone.

“You thought I wouldn’t like the real you?” he asked softly, his blue eyes filled with something that made your chest ache—understanding.

You shrugged, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “I just… I figured you’d want someone else. Someone perfect.”

Luke shook his head, leaning closer until your hands brushed across the counter. “I don’t need perfect. I just need you.”

A First Date Proposal

Your breath caught in your throat as the words settled between you like a fragile promise.

“So,” Luke said, straightening up but still holding your gaze, “what do you say, Sunflower? Want to get coffee with me sometime? Like, not while you’re working?”

You felt a laugh bubble up despite yourself. “You mean… not for free?”

Luke grinned. “I can pay, I swear.”

You bit your lip, heart fluttering. Part of you was still scared—scared that this was too good to be true, that someone like Luke would never stay. But another part of you, the part that had dared to attend the gala, told you to take the leap.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll go.”

His grin widened, and for the first time in a long time, you felt something warm and hopeful settle in your chest.

“Cool,” Luke said, looking almost boyishly happy. “Tomorrow? After practice?”

“Tomorrow,” you agreed, your smile matching his.

The Promise of Something New

As Luke left the café—his black coffee forgotten on the counter—you realized something important.

For the first time in a long time, you felt seen. Not just by LostinBlue, but by Luke.

And maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of something real.

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes fanfic #° braindead writes

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jdeclerc · 2 years ago

Text

to dream of you

pairing: rhysand x reader

summary: Rhys has come home. It is not the return of the mate you once knew but his homecoming brings a second chance nonetheless.

author's note: this idea has lived in my head for longer than I'd like to admit so I finally put fingers to keys and wrote it, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

warnings: some PTSD and slight allusions to SA

word count: 3,003

The sky outside of my room shows no sign of turning to morning, telling me that my fruitless attempts at sleep lasted much less time than it seemed. Sleep had evaded me from the moment I made my way to bed earlier in the night, as it had for the past half century. Falling into bed no longer held the same prospect of rest and retreat from the outside world, no sanctuary was to be found behind a closed bedroom door. And after the events of the last few weeks, I was beginning to believe it never would again.

I rise from the bed and pull the robe I had discarded earlier tightly around myself. I give the bed a wistful look before making my way to the door and stepping into the hallway, closing it behind me as silently as possible. My feet begin following a familiar path through the hallways of the House of Wind, my steps seemingly having a mind of their own. It was only when I turn a corner, look up, and meet the eyes of the Night Court’s war general that I truly knew where my path has taken me.

Cassian gives me the smallest of smiles as I approach. Without a word he opens his arms for me to step into. As he wraps them around me and leans his head onto mine, I know that he could tell it is exactly what I need.

His voice is barely above a whisper when he says, “I thought I was meant to be the only one awake at this time of night. We agreed you would get some sleep, now didn’t we dear sister?”

“I tried Cas, I promise I did. Tomorrow…I’ll try again tomorrow, like we agreed.”

I step back from his arms, look to Cassian’s left forearm and then to my own, our matching marks staring back at me.

“I don’t destroy the training ring every day and you try to find rest by getting into bed every night…quite the pair we make.”

I can’t help but let out a small laugh at his words, “That we do Cas…you know I wouldn’t have made it through the last 50 years without you.”

“And you know both Azriel and I wouldn’t have made it 5 minutes without you Y/N, you saved us.”

“We saved each other, don’t ever forget that.” I can tell by the look in his eyes he knows this to be true, that our family could get through anything if it could survive what we had. “Has he gotten any sleep tonight, do you know?”

At my words we both turn toward the open door behind Cassian. Through it we have an unobstructed view of the bedroom, or rather the empty room that used to be a bedroom. No longer did the Illyrian sized bed or matching nightstands rest against the far wall. The ancient bookcase and large armchairs that surrounded the fireplace on the opposite wall were also missing. Instead, they had been moved to the balcony, protected by a ward from the elements. No entrance is granted unless expressly given by the balcony’s occupant. It is a room fit for someone who needs an uninterrupted view of the stars in the sky, to feel the breeze against his skin, and to smell the air coming off the mountain.

From our vantage point we can just make out a head of raven hair laying on the left side of the bed, turned away from the door.

“He has been asleep for almost an hour now, I’m not sure if it will last but I’m hopeful. It’s the fourth night he’s refused Madja’s sleeping tonic, each night has brought longer bouts of sleep…but the nightmares –”

“They wake him, every night. I feel it when it happens, he sends wave upon wave of distress and fear down the bond.” I can feel the tears in my eyes when I look up at Cassian.

“He doesn’t know you feel it does he?”

I shake my head, “I know he attempts to close the feelings off from me, but I feel it all the same. I have since the first night he returned. The bond has been dormant for so long that everything is heightened. It’s why I have yourself and Azriel stand watch, I need someone to be here for him.”

“It should be you Y/N, you’re who he needs. I know he hasn’t been the same around any of us, but we need to –”

“He flinched Cas,” the look I receive at my interruption is one of confusion, “He flinched when I embraced him the day he returned, and he has kept his distance from me since. He may never need…may never want me again…so I give him everything I can from afar.”

I had not told any of them about what occurred on the day of Rhys’ return, of how he reacted to my touch as though it was engulfed in flame. Our interactions since had consisted of looks across the dining table and passing glances in the halls. The closest we came to touching again was when I handed him the book I knew he would be looking for in the library, the one I had kept beside my bed everyday he was gone because he had been in the middle of reading it.

I don’t realize my tears have begun to fall until I feet Cassian brush them away.

“He will come back to you Y/N, he may not be the same as when he left but he will return all the same. His love for you may just be the most impressive thing I have ever witnessed. Well, that and Azriel’s wingspan...which I will deny ever having said but it’s true all the same.”

I match his grin with one of my own, “Oh, he’ll be hearing about this. Of that you should have no doubt.”

“Do what you must you cruel female, I will take any retribution brought to me if it means that smile stays on your face for a moment longer…it has been sorely missed these last fifty years.”

“Thank you, Cas, for everything. Come find me before you head to bed in the morning, I wish to know how the night ends so we can adjust things if needed. I’ll be in the office, or the dining room should Azriel wish for our meal together tomorrow to be breakfast.”

“You will have every detail Y/N. Promise me only mundane court affairs this evening, if you must work let it be menial paperwork.”

“Only mundane court affairs, I promise.” I give Cassian a short hug before departing down the hallway, I can feel his worry upon my back with every step.

The office door is ajar when I reach it but is empty upon my entrance. As I round the desk I find a steaming cup of tea, my favourite biscuits, and a note that reads:

Y/N,

The house promised to keep the tea warm until you arrived.

I expect to find an empty cup and plate when I come to collect you for breakfast in the morning. If you insist on working through the night, I insist on giving you simple comforts while you do so.

I love you sister.

Your favourite brother,

- A

I smile down at the note, knowing words don’t come as easily to Azriel as they do to Cassian. Prythian will never know the heart of the shadowsinger and how deeply his love runs for his family. But I cherish every moment he trusts me with it.

---------

I’m not sure how much time has passed when the heavy silence of the House of Wind is broken, broken by a voice I had begged the Mother countless times to hear just one more time. One I would never again take for granted.

“You look much better behind that desk than I ever did.”

It takes me a moment to gather the courage to look up. I am not met with a sly grin or cheeky look but one of deep longing.

“It is the view of you behind this desk I wish to have restored. Sitting behind it was never a burden I wished to carry.” I regretted my choice of words the moment they left my mouth. His face betrays no feelings of hurt though. “Rhys, I…I’m sorry, that was unfair of me to say.”

“Say it again.”

“Wha –”

“My name, say it again.”

“Rhys…Rhysand.”

I realize it is the first time I have said his full name since he returned, I have resisted using it because it brings emotions to the surface I don’t wish to face. But I feel his relaxation through the bond, as though his name on my tongue is a salve to a wound I can’t see.

We fall into a few moments of silence, both of us never looking away from the other. It is Rhys who speaks first. “Walk with me?”

I manage only a nod in response. Wanting nothing more than to be with him in any way he would allow and not wanting to end the closest we had come to normalcy since his return.

He waits until I meet him in the doorway to begin our journey. I am unsure of his path, so I follow him in silence, allowing him to take control. He leads me to the giant balcony off the main foyer of the house and comes to a stop at its edge. I do the same, leaving an arm’s length of space between us.

I can’t say how much time we pass looking at the stars over Velaris, standing in utter silence. It is he who breaks the silence once more.

“It was your voice.”

Four words that raise countless questions in my head, but I remain silent, letting Rhys speak freely. I simply watch his profile, relishing in the ability to do so.

“That is what I missed most. Not the stars in the sky, nor the wind upon my wings. Not your scent, not even the memory of your skin upon mine but your voice. I longed to hear it’s rasp when we rose early in the morning, how it skipped when I brought you to the edge of euphoria, your laugh in response to one of Cassian’s terrible jokes. Even recalling arguments in which you, deservedly so, yelled at me brought me comfort.”

His quickly glances over at me as his voice begins to catch in his throat, he does his best to compose himself before he continues.

“I can’t imagine how these weeks have felt for you, I have spent every moment trying to find the right words but all of them have felt wrong. But I know I want to apologize; I haven’t been who you hoped I would be upon my return.”

It is hard for him, I realize, to give words to the fae he had become under the mountain. How it changed and molded him into someone entirely different than the one who left. How he thought he was no longer the mate I knew and loved.

“Who I hoped you would be? You silly, foolish male.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Look at me Rhys.” He meets my eyes. I hold his gaze, wanting him to hear every word I am about to say. “My only hope was that you would come home. For fifty years that is all I have wanted. Even if you came home and felt differently about all of us…about me, it didn’t matter. You would be home.”

He gives me the smallest of smiles and closes his eyes as he lets out a breath.

“You must know, I could never not need you – and I’ve certainly never stopped wanting you.”

“You heard me talking to Cas.” It isn’t a question; we both know it to be the truth.

“After fifty years of being closed off it would seem as though the bond responds to you at every turn. I awoke the moment you stopped outside the door, just having you near was enough. I didn’t want you to leave on account of my being awake.”

I have no rebuttal; we both know that the distance between us has not been completely one-way. I have never found the courage to speak with him either.

“I…after you first got back, I didn’t want you to feel as though I was pushing myself on you. I knew I needed to give you space.”

“Y/N…” I can hear the catch in Rhys’ throat once more, can see him swallow and force himself to continue. “Over the last half century touch has been used against me. It never held true affection, it was used as a tool of manipulation and control. Yours was the opposite. I felt your utter relief and unending love at the sight of me – it was overwhelming, and I reacted without thought. I’m so sorry to have caused you to think I didn’t want you near.” I can tell he is struggling to form his words, to relive the nightmare he had only recently escaped. And I can’t bear it as tears began to form in his eyes.

“You need not explain yourself or apologize to me. I hope to one day be let into that mind of yours – to know all that you have survived so that I can give you support however I can, but it need not be today. Nor even a decade from now, I will take what you give when you feel ready to give it.”

“You will know, as you have known every corner of my mind since we were younglings. It may take time, but you will know.” It is then that he reaches for my hand, tentatively, as though he has never done it before. He grasps it in both of his own, never taking his eyes off of them. “The cauldron surely made a mistake in bestowing a mate like you upon the likes of me. I will never deserve all that you have given me or this court. It is a debt that can never be repaid.”

“Rhys…what do you mean?”

“I had Cassian and Azriel show me what occurred in my absence, what they allowed me to see that is. There were gaps in what they showed me…because of their love for you, I think. Some things, they said, are for only you to tell me. I hope to learn them one day, every single detail.” His brow furrows with his next set of words. He grips my hand tighter and locks eyes with me. “I saw you give away every piece of yourself, you faded away as you refused to let those around you slip.”

“I did what any of them would have done, it was what they needed – it didn’t matter what happened to me, it only mattered that you had something to come home to.” I don’t stop the tears as they come this time, they are matched by those in Rhys’ eyes.

“You are my home. You are what I desperately hoped to return to. You are more than anyone in Prythian deserves. I hope to, one day, be deserving of the sacrifices you made, the mate you deserve once again.”

“You have always been deserving of me, who you are at any given time is deserving. For the first time in half a century I feel like I can breathe, I feel complete with you here…no matter what that looks like.”

“And I am on my way there, racing as fast as I can to match you. My steps may be those of a babe for a time; short and unsure. But I want to move forward, closer to you, all the same. I love you more than you could know Y/N, give me time and I will show you this in every way imaginable.”

“The pace of your steps is irrelevant, I’m just happy I get to see them once again. We are in this as a pair, as we always have been.”

Rhys drops my hand and straightens to his full height, looking every bit the part of a High Lord. He extends his right hand into the space between us.

“Then let us strike a bargain. We do this together. We take steps forward to grow and heal, as one, never letting the other fall far behind.”

I put my hand in his and we close our grips around one another.

“As one.”

If the look on his face is any indication, I know Rhys feels the seal of our bargain at the same time I do. I look down to see identical markings on the inside of our right wrists.

We drop each other’s hands and fell into a comfortable silence, both leaning against the railing of the balcony. I can tell that Rhys is exhausted, both mentally and physically. He seems reluctant to leave, reluctant to admit how much one conversation has so utterly drained him.

“It’s alright Rhys.”

He hums in response and gives me a questioning look.

“Go back to your room, you need sleep. I will be fine.”

“Our room.” He frowns at his own words. “It will be one day again, give me time.”

I give him a tentative smile in return.

“We’ve got all the time in the world.”

He reaches down to squeeze my hand before releasing it and begins making his way toward the door. I call his name and stop him just as he reaches it and is about to walk through. He turns to face me.

“Do me a favour.”

“Name it.”

“Try and dream for me, you deserve the peace it will bring.”

My words are met with an expression holding a difficult story I do not yet know and before Rhys disappears into the house he says,

“I simply think of you darling and I’m already dreaming.”

#rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #acotar #night court #acomaf #acotar x reader

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