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peachessndreamss · 1 year ago

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A Rose by Any Other Name.

Summery : Princes Aegon and Aemond visit Highgarden to broker a marriage contract for the younger brother, while there Aemond finds himself in need of relief and doesn't care who with.

Characters : Aemond Targaryen x f!Tyrell reader

Warnings : Dub Con, abuse of title/rank, oral sex (male receiving), female masturbation, derogatory terms for women, alcohol consumption, cannon divergent, Aegon slander

Word count : 4.5 k

A/N : Sometimes my dreams are the unlimited pasta caste and sometimes they're this, sorry. While English is my first language I'm also profoundly dyslexic, I've done my best to minimise spelling and grammar issues but I'm there still are plenty.

The ground of a Highgarden stable yard was a mess of mud and straw as the eldest Tyrell daughter rode her horse sedately out of the stables and toward the open door of the outer keep. There had been days of fresh spring rains which had soaked the earth, swollen the rivers and brought the Reach alive in a riot of colour, from the azure blue of the sky to the lush green of the grasses in the animal fields and every colour of the rainbow in the food and flowers that grew and ripened under the warming sun.

“Outriders say the Princes are only a few hours away if the good weather holds so don’t go far,” the horse master reminded her.

“I’ll not go far,” she replied with an airy wave of her hand, the route she’d already set on in her mind was several hours over the roughest terrain the estate of Highgarden had to offer and would have her coming home a good while after the Targaryen visitors had arrived. She had no desire to stand in the muddy yard with her siblings to greet the princes when their wheelhouse rolled in.

Her father had started brokering the marriage contract over 9 months before, ravens flew back and forth between Highgarden and Kings Landing as her father bartered, first, with the Hand of the King and then with Queen Alicent. She’d looked through the letters herself, working out just how much she was worth to her father and the Targaryens. Finally the Queen suggested Aegon and Aemond visit the Reach themselves to complete negotiations and hold a formal betrothal.

If she was going to be sold off to Aemond Targaryen like a cow at a market she would at least spend her final day as an unbetrothed woman in the way she enjoyed the most. As she passed under the gate the horse beneath her gave a shiver of anticipation, as they turned toward the East and the low spring sun that dazzled her eyes the horse gave a snort of impatience.

Despite the lack of visibility Lady Tyrell angled the horse toward a small cluster of woods she knew were on the horizon, she clicked her tongue and gave the horse a short squeeze with her thighs. At this the horse broke into a trot and soon they were hidden by the sun and quickly disappearing over the horizon.

In the West, still 10 or so miles from Highgarden, the royal wheelhouse shuddered and bounced over the pitted road, shaking the two occupants and further fraying delicate nerves.

Aegon groaned and gripped at the set beneath him, his head hanging low and his eyes closed tightly as he tried to stop feeling like his head and body were moving in different directions.

“I can’t see why we couldn’t come on dragonback,” Aegon groaned as he fought the urge to vomit again.

Aemond remained in stoney silence, seething at his older brother and the despicable mess he was. The night before they had slept in a tavern on the edge of the Reach. Aegon has drunk his way through an entire barrel of rose wine and was found in the morning asleep in the stable between two sheep. The smell of him, a mix of spilt wine and sheep shit made Aemond's stomach roll.

“Isn't there some high born hole you can marry in Kings Landing?” Aegon complained as the wheelhouse gave a lurch and bumped over the poorly maintained track.

“Cease your incessant whining,” Aemond finally snapped, kicking his brother in the leg.

“Why did I have to come?” Aegon muttered, rubbing at his calf and glaring at Aemond through the lank locks of hair that had fallen over his face.

“I would have paid good money to leave you behind,” Aemond replied coldly.

“Why didn't you?!”.

“Mother insisted,” Aemond shrugged and turned away from his brother, pulling the window cover back with a long finger and watching disinterestedly at the countryside rolling by. If he ended up marrying into the Lords of this land, the first thing he'd insist on was better roads.

The wheelhouse turned sharply and Aegon groaned again, stuffing his cloak into his mouth to fight the nausea. Once it had passed he spit the fabric out, it tasted like sheep and possibly his piss.

“I fucking hope she's worth it,” he hissed.

The lady returned to Highgarden even later than she'd intended and in a far worse state. Her usually sure mount had startled while riding through a wooded area and thrown her off his back into a sticky quagmire, she’d landed mostly on her back and left side, the clothes had become soaked in mud that had been almost impossible to get off when it was wet. She had washed the worst of it off her face and hands in a small stream but her riding clothes remained caked in the muck.

“My Lady, what happened?” The horse master exclaimed as she trotted the beast into the stables.

“He threw me is all, no lasting damage done,” she replied as she dismounted and patted the horse's neck lovingly.

“Are they here?” She asked after a moment of heavy silence.

“Your father's taken them to his solar, he's not happy you weren't here to greet them,”.

She nodded sharply and handed the reins of the horse over to a stableboy.

“Plenty of hay, water and a few of those early golden apples,” she instructed before turning and heading into the yard.

She entered the building through a servants door, knowing she could make a path between there and her own rooms that wouldn't put her anywhere near her father's solar. She could be washed and changed and ready to entertain Princes long before dinner was served.

She stepped into a small anteroom off the kitchens where she knew she could take off her ruined riding gear, stripping down to her small clothes and riding boots, she left everything in a pile, making a note to tell her maidservant about it as soon as she saw the woman. She couldn't well wander the halls of Highgarden in her shift so she took a clean servants dress from the stack in the corner and pulled the shapeless linen over her head, tying it around the middle with a belt of braided cord. She splashed icy water on her face and did her best to tuck any loose hairs back into their braid before setting off for her rooms.

She'd almost made it back to her own chambers when a voice from behind spoke.

“Girl, come here,” it commanded and she stopped in her tracks.

No one in her father's household would speak to her like that, even if she was dressed as a servant. She turned slowly, the blood racing to her face when she looked at Aemond Targaryen for the first time.

He was still dressed for travel, with black leather trousers and a similarly hardy jacket with a high collar. The patch over his eye hid most of the damage but the deep red scar extended up his forehead and down his cheek, the only mark she could see on his otherwise glass clear skin. There was no flicker of recognition on his face, he obviously had no idea who he was speaking to.

“Come here,” he ordered again when she'd not moved toward him.

She opened her mouth to protest, to ask him who he thought he was speaking to but she stopped, closing her mouth and moving toward him. If she was going to marry this man she wanted to know what type of man he was and how better to learn than to see how he treated servants.

As she moved toward him she kept her eyes downcast, despite being desperate to look at his face in greater detail.

“What can I do for you, my Prince?” She asked meekly.

“Come with me,” he replied bluntly and turned, striding down the wide and brightly lit corridor toward the rooms that had been prepared for the two visiting royals.

At the door to his room he pushed it open and stepped back to allow her inside first before following and closing the door tightly behind the two of them. The sound of the latch clicking into place made her heart pound, she'd never been alone with a man before, she'd always been accompanied by her ladies or sisters but now she was alone in the guest wing behind a closed door.

She stood in the centre of the main room, a fire burned merrily in the grate and the Prince’s trunk stood open at the foot of the bed. She looked up at him from under her lashes and caught sight of his deep indigo eye watching her.

“Wh-what can I do for you?” She asked again, he'd catch on pretty quickly she wasn't part of the serving staff if he asked her to do much more than pour a glass of wine.

“I'm in need of some relief,” he said softly, his left hand moving instinctively toward the laced fount of his trousers and his fingers twitched.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, her eyes following the movement of his hand before snapping back to his face.

“I don't understand your meaning, my Prince,” she said softly, although she was fairly certain she did.

She had been raised her entire life in the safety and beauty of Highgarden, her innocence protected at all costs and her exposure to men limited as far as possible, but she still knew what men and women did together in the privacy of their bed chambers.

“The journey here was long and difficult and my brother is a terrible travelling companion, so before I meet with your sweet lady this evening and make dull small talk for hours I need you to get on your knees, open your mouth and suck my cock,”.

A shiver crawled across her body, she'd never been spoken to like that before and after the initial shock of his crass words she found herself excited by them. But while his words were exciting the reality of what he wanted was frightening, she could tell him who she really was and face the consequences of running around dressed as a servant and tricking a prince or she could do what he asked and face any additional consequences of sucking his cock and having to make dull small talk with him later.

“Did you hear me?” He demanded, his voice harsher now, “get on your knees, I've got no time for your wide-eyed innocent act,”.

“But, my Prince, I've never-,”.

He cut her off mid-sentence, anger flashing across his face.

“Get on your knees,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

The anger on his face and in his voice sent a thrill up and down her spine, making the tips of her toes and fingers tingle with anticipation.

Slowly she lowered herself to her knees, the thin and rough fabric of the dress rubbed uncomfortably on her knees and the cold of the stone floor seemed to soak into her skin like water.

“So you do understand, stupid little slut,” he muttered, moving toward her while unfastening the laces of his breeches.

She watched with wide eyes as he pulled his cock free from the fabric of his trousers and pumped his hand up and down the thick muscle. By instinct her mouth filled with saliva and she felt a rush of wetness and heat between her thighs.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded.

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip before doing as she'd been told, parting her lips and teeth as he came to stand directly in front of her, the head of his cock now bobbing directly in her eye line. There was a bead of clear fluid slipping from the thin slit at the head, she fought the urge to lean toward and lick it up.

The head of his cock was a dark red colour, completely in opposition to the alabaster white skin of his hands, he wrapped his fingers around the base and squeezed.

“Keep it open,” he said as he angled the shaft toward her lips.

This was her last opportunity, the very last second she could back out, tell him who she was, run screaming from the room but instead she relaxed her jaw a little and allowed him to push the head of his cock into her waiting mouth.

His own mouth dropped open in a soft moan as the wet heat of her mouth enveloped his aching cock. He pushed his hips forward, forcing as much of himself between her lips as she could take, the soft, slick slide of her tongue on the underside of his shaft made his toes curl up in his boots.

Her hands went to the front of his thighs and she braced her open palms against the leather, her fingers moulding to the shape of his lithe legs. He could feel the heat from her hands and the gentle curl of her fingertips through the fabric of his breeches.

He drew back a little, feeling the warm suck of her soft mouth, he pushed one hand into the soft tangle of her hair and gripped.

“That's it,” he breathed as he pushed forward again, “take it,”.

Holding her head steady he pumped his cock between her lips, very quickly he was soaked from root to tip with her saliva and he watched transfixed as it slipped down her chin and wetted the rough fabric of her dress.

Tears were forming in her eyes and slipping down her cheeks as he fucked her mouth. The musky and masculine smell of him filled her nose as the salty taste of his bare skin on her tongue made her head spin.

Part of her was disgusted, she was a lady and possibly a future princess but she was on her knees getting her mouth fucked bya man who thought she was a servant. A much larger part of her thought this was the most erotic thing that could ever happen, her cunt was pulsing with the rapid beat of her heart, she wanted nothing more than to shove her fingers between her legs and bring herself to completion, or even better, take Aemond’s fingers and use them.

“You cock hungry little slut,” he hissed as he forced his cock deeper than any thrust before.

She choked, feeling her body suddenly gag at the intrusion so deep into her mouth. She tore herself away from him, gasping for breath. There was pain where he was clinging onto her hair, pulling it hard between his lean fingers.

“Too much for the little whore?” He sneered, cold laughter on his beautiful face.

She nodded as he brought the hand that wasn't still tangled in her hair to her cheek and brushed away her tears.

“Finish me off and you'll be free to go,” he said, pulling her back to him and pressing the head of his cock against her lips.

She opened her mouth willingly and allowed him to continue, pumping faster but not as deeply as before, he began to pant and groan at every pass of her wet lips.

“Fucking take it,” he panted, “take it, take it,”.

With a final shuddering, stuttering thrust she felt his cock kick in her mouth before her tongue was flooded with salty, bitter fluid. She kept her mouth closed around his shaft as his seed escaped between her lips and dripped onto her chest.

“Swallow it,” he whispered, unable to take his gaze from her dripping mouth.

He watched as her throat bobbed and she swallowed his remaining seed before leaning back and gazing up at him. Her cheeks were marked with the tracks of her tears and her mouth and chin were wet with his spend and her own spit. The tip of her tongue appeared between her lips and gathered a drop of him before disappearing again between her used lips.

Aemond's cock was now rapidly softening and she watched with fascination as the long, thick muscle seemed to retreat back toward his body, the hot, round head disappearing under a hood of skin.

He tucked his cock back into his breeches before reaching down and brushing his thumb across her lips, his touch surprisingly tender.

“You can go,” he said bluntly before stepping away from her and turning his back.

She sprang to her feet and dashed to the bedroom door, yanking it open and not bothering to close it behind herself as she raced toward the sanctuary of her own rooms. The soles of her riding boots seemed to boom on the hard stone floor and she believed as if everyone in the castle would hear her desperate escape.

Although she kept her head down and didn't acknowledge anyone she passed she felt as if she'd been branded across the face with the awful names he'd called her. Surely everyone she passed knew what she'd just been doing.

Her heart was thundering and her cunt pounding, the sensations she'd never felt before were making her head spin. Once she was in the safety of her own room she threw herself onto the bed and drove her fingers between the slick lips of her cunt with an urgency she'd never known. She bit into the feather pillow as she brought herself to orgasm within moments of touching the throbbing and engorged pearl between her legs.

She lay panting on the bed, the smell of him still clinging to her like perfume, now mixing with the smell of her own arousal.

Her ears still burned with the names he'd called her, she should feel humiliated and insulted but instead she longed to hear those names again. She longed to taste his cock again and then to explore his body, to take time to undress him, observe him and touch him. She wanted him to do the same with her, call her names, strip her naked and explore her virgin body without restraint.

When her maidservant arrived to get her dressed for dinner she could barely lift her head from the bed. She wanted nothing more than to hide under the sheets and touch herself again and again while images of the prince flashed through her mind.

She was scrubbed clean in the bath, her hair washed and treated with sweet smelling oils. Her maidservant noted the bruises where she'd been thrown by her horse, but the marks on her knees were harder to explain away.

She was dressed in a gold and green gown embroidered with roses, the usual soft cotton and silk felt like sand abrading her skin. She insisted her hair be styled in the same way it had been when she went riding, in case the Prince didn't recognise the lady he was forced to make small talk with.

She waited by the door to the great hall, the princes had been announced and seated, then her father and his wife, her siblings next and finally it was her turn. Her name was called and she stepped into the hall. The room was full of the great and good of the Reach sitting on the tables that filled the room, at the top table, positioned above the others on a dais sat her family and Prince Aegon and Aemond.

She looked directly at Prince Aemond as she walked toward the top table. There was a flicker of recognition followed by a moment of complete horror before he took back control of his face, a mask of neutral passiveness dropping over his features. She took her seat between the prince and her young sister.

“My Lady,” he greeted softly.

“Prince Aemond,” she replied.

“Prince Aegon,” she added, leaning around Aemond to address his brother who only nodded in acknowledgement, he was swaying gently in his seat and his eyes were glazed over.

Aemond could have throttled his older brother for being drunk before the meal had been served.

“It's a pleasure to meet you my Lady,” Aemond said softly, drawing her attention back to him.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she replied politely, “but I do hope my small talk doesn't bore you,” she added, dropping her voice so only he could hear. She enjoyed the look of mild panic that crossed his face before she turned to speak with her sister.

As the food was served the noise levels in the hall increased and she felt able to return to speaking with Aemond without being overheard.

“How have you found Highgarden so far?” She asked.

“Most accommodating,” he replied, taking a sip of rose wine.

“Please forgive me if this question is indelicate,” she started, running the tips of her fingers up and down the thin stem of her wine glass, “if we're to marry, do you intend on taking your pleasure with the servants or your wife?”.

The hand holding Aemond's wine goblet visibly shook before he placed it back on the table. He cleared his throat and turned his eye to the woman beside him.

“I would take my pleasure nowhere but my wife, and she would take a great deal of pleasure with me,”.

“Because if I were your wife and found you'd been sticking your prick in the serving girls I'd bite it off,” she said as softly as possible.

Aemond cleared his throat again and gave a small inclination of his head.

“Understood, my Lady,”.

After the meal there was music and dancing. As expected of her, she danced with her father and her brothers. She'd expected to have to dance with Prince Aegon as well but he was too drunk to stand straight let alone follow the steps. Aemond, on the other hand, was everything a prince should be, dancing with her step mother and sisters before asking her to dance.

The music changed to a fast paced peasant tune that meant they needed to dance in a small circle of others before being paired off. Once alone and moving around the floor they were able to speak again.

“I just want you to know,” she started as she stepped around him, before coming to face him, their toes almost touching, she looked up at him, taking in the curve of his lips and a sharp shape of his chin, “the way you spoke to me, when you thought I was a serving girl made my cunt ache,”.

She went to twist away from him to continue the dance with the man beside him but he caught her hand and held her, letting her twirl around him again. The line of dancers they were part of muttered and tutted as they scrambled to sort themselves without the Prince and his lady.

When they were face to face again Aemond held her still, placing his hands on her waist.

“When you are my wife, it will be my utmost honour to make your cunt ache every day,” he breathed before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on her cheek before adding “my slut,”.

A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine and settled deep in her belly, making her cunt throb again. If she really was a slut she could drag him away somewhere quiet and make him repay her in kind for earlier but she was a lady, and he was prince and they were in a room full of gossiping courtiers.

“Is that a formal proposal?” She asked as he straightened.

“I think it is,” he replied, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips.

“Then I accept,” she said, before twisting around him again in time with the music.

The other dancers had moved on, leaving the two of them in their own space on the floor, undisturbed by anyone else. The swirling dancers around them made it feel like they were the only two people in the room, trapped by a colourful snow storm.

Aemond didn't care that he wasn't in a position to officially offer marriage to her yet, his meeting with her father hadn't straightened out all the details but suddenly the dowry, the lands and the titles of their future children didn't matter anymore, these details were nothing compared to how badly he wanted to take her to wife.

The song ended in a final flourish and the dancers clapped and called out requests for the next piece of music.

“Another dance? I certainly prefer it to small talk,” she teased with a smile as the music started again and the dancers around them took their places.

“And is there something else you’d enjoy even more than dancing?” he asked before bowing to her and offering her his hand.

Her neck flushed with heat as she took his hand and the two of them moved in a slow circle.

“There are many things I enjoy more than dancing, my Prince, and I suspect you’ll show me a great many more,”

For the rest of the night Prince Aemond danced with no one else and while it certainly earned some raised eyebrows from the more modest members of the Highgarden court neither Lady Tyrell or Aemond could bring themselves to care. They only had eyes for one another and as they danced the rest of the world seemed to melt away.

At the top table Lord Tyrell watched his daughter and the prince with great interest. He was thinking he might have saved himself 9 months of bartering, letter writing and hand wringing if he’d just invited the prince to visit in the first instance.

“They make a fair couple, don’t they?” his lady wife asked from beside him.

“When I met with him this afternoon I’d never have believed he could be so taken with her,” Lord Tyrell said, “he was so cold I didn’t think he could look at someone with anything other than contempt but she seems to have won him over,”.

It was the small hour of the next morning by the time the music and dancing ended. Lord Tyrell and his lady had gone to bed hours before but the revelry had continued. Prince Aegon had staggered from the table and made toward a door at the side of the hall, he’d only made it through the door before tripping on his feet, falling on his face and deciding to stay there.

As the musicians played their final notes prince Aemond kissed the back of his lady’s hand, looking up at her and smiling.

“Until we meet again, my Lady,” he said softly, she opened her mouth to reply but he pulled her toward him, bringing his cheek to hers, his lips touching the shell of her ear, “my whore,”.

additional A/N : this has the potential for a part two if anyone's interested? Just putting it out there, letting the universe know.

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worth-the-chaos · 8 months ago

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Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 16

Chapter Summary: For all your encounters with the Upside Down you hadn’t had to deal with it directly. Now, in a fight in foreign territory, you and your friends must struggle to find your way back to the Hawkins that you are familiar with.

Content Warning: swearing, upside down freaky shit, blood/injury, trauma, angst

Word Count: 9.7k

Author’s Note: Yo sorry this has taken a while for me to finish, life has been low key a bit of a bummer recently. Also, (from the time I posted this) about 20 minutes ago I nearly deleted this. Like all of it. In a way that would have been borderline unrecoverable. So I think I deserve a cookie and a pat on the back for not doing that.

Message me to be added to the taglist and get updated when the next chapter is posted! I highly recommend this if you want to keep up with the story since I don’t do regular updates!

Series Masterlist | Part 15 | Next Part

***

The water stung your eyes and you could only make out blurry shapes. You had never been the strongest swimmer and you were scared out of your mind that you would drown before you made it to Steve, but you didn’t care as you kicked your legs as hard as you could. You could make out red light radiating from a spot on the bottom of the lake and you redirected yourself towards it. That had to be the gate that Steve had seen, and he was no doubt on the other side of it, fighting for his life.

You pushed through the permeable membrane of the gate that seemed to pulse as if it was alive, shoving your way into the unknown. You were immediately met with the frigid sting of the cold air, but you could barely feel it as your eyes were immediately glued to your boyfriend, being attacked by several bat-like creatures.

“Steve!” You shouted as your instincts kicked in, grabbing an oar from a shipwrecked boat and smacking one of the creatures away from his side. The winged monster screeched and it was nearly enough to make your ears bleed. Suddenly, Robin, Nancy, and Eddie were right behind you, each with their own improvised weapons.

“Quick! Hold it, Robin!” Nancy shouted as her friend moved you pin the bat strangling your boyfriend down. Both you and Nancy continued to strike it with all of your might in an attempt to get it to release its grip around Steve’s neck but it seemed like it was no use.

“Come on!” You shouted, your eyes welling with tears as you became increasingly panicked by the second. You made eye contact with Eddie, your eyes begging for him to intervene. “Do something!” You yelled out, though you weren’t quite sure if your words were meant for your friends or yourself.

You could hear Steve struggling for air as he continued to choke under the pressure of the strangulation. And you felt your heart sink halfway to hell at the way his legs were flailing in every direction, his hands in an iron clad grip on the creature’s tail wrapped around his neck.

“Y/n! Behind you!” Eddie yelled out and all of the sudden you were knocked off kilter by a force from behind, claws digging into the tender skin of your back through your soaking wet clothes. You screamed out in pain, desperately reaching behind you trying to pry the thing off, but it was to no avail.

“Robin! Help!” You shrieked and she grabbed onto the bat’s tail, yanking at it harshly. You cried out in pain as her efforts to remove the monster caused its talons to dig further into your skin as it resisted her attempt to thwart its attack.

She finally was able to yank it free, slamming it into the ground as Nancy struck it with her oar. You turned to see that Steve was now standing and you almost cried out in relief that he was okay, but you were still very much in the thick of the fight and you weren’t about to celebrate too soon.

Steve continued slamming the bat back and forth on the ground until he finally stepped on one of its wings, pulling aggressively on its tail causing the monster to be ripped in two. He panted as he attempted to regain control of his breathing.

“Steve!” You called you, running towards your boyfriend as tears welled in your eyes. Your hands hovered over his body, afraid to touch him as you took in the sight of all of his wounds. He had deep gashes on his abdomen, skin missing from where the bats had been feeding on him. Your breath started to pick up, beginning to panic at the extent of his injuries. You didn’t care if you were the one to get hurt, but seeing Steve injured like that in such a life threatening scenario was enough to make you break down. “Baby,” your lip wobbled and a tear rolled down your cheek as you looked him in the eyes.

“Are you okay?” Nancy frantically asked, her eyes scanning over Steve’s body to assess the damage, gasping as she understood the severity.

“They took about a pound of flesh,” Steve replied and goosebumps erupted over your entire body, “but other than that, never better.”

Steve looked you in the eye as he added the last bit, clearly attempting to calm you down. Inside he was absolutely scared shitless, but he figured the better he did at maintaining a calm exterior, the less upset you would be. You didn’t even know how to respond, so instead of trying to formulate any words, you decided to pull him in for a gentle hug, being careful not to disturb his wounds.

He pulled you in tighter, not caring about his injuries and just needing more than anything to hold onto you. He swayed side to side as he rested his chin on the top of your head, knowing that whatever pain and scarring that followed was worth it if it meant that all of his efforts would contribute to saving your life.

“Uh, do you guys think that these bats have, like, rabies?” Robin suddenly spoke up. She was crouched down, inspecting a creature’s lifeless body.

“What?” Steve asked as his face contorted in confusion. Everyone turned to look at her with a very similar expression, her question seeming so out of place given everything that had just transpired.

“It’s just that rabies are like my number one greatest fear and I think we should probably get you to a doctor really soon because once the symptoms set in, it’s too late; you’re already dead,” she rambled on. Before anyone could respond to her, more screeching rang out from above you. Several more bats were flying in, no doubt responding to the casualties of their fellow creatures at the hands of trespassers. They flocked to the opening of the gate, sitting perched on the mess of vines, waiting for the next thing that unwittingly found itself stuck in this alternate dimension.

“Alright. There’s not that many. We can take ‘em, right?” Steve breathed out, gently nudging you behind him to protect you. You curled an arm around his, desperately clinging to him. In the past, every time you had fought off the supernatural, it had been on home turf. You were afraid of the odds now that they had the home advantage.

In the distance, more nauseating shrieks sounded off and through the lightning in the unnaturally red sky, you could see an entire swarm of the bat-like creatures approaching. “You were saying?” The words escaped your lips as you stared in awe at the monsters.

“The woods! Come on!” Nancy pointed toward the thicket of crooked branches, and the five of you took off running. You sprinted as fast as your legs could take you, but being less than coordinated, you stumbled a bit as you tried to keep up with your athletic boyfriend. He was quick to help you right yourself, making sure you were in front of him until you reached the tree line.

He felt his heart nearly stop when he noticed the blood soaking through the back of your shirt. He immediately felt guilt swarm in his emotions, wishing that he hadn’t brought you into this mess. Everything he did was to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt, and here he was, bringing you straight into the crossfire.

You had reached the forest, slowing down to a quick walk as you made your way farther and farther into the woods. You were still trying to catch your breath from running when Steve spoke up.

“Baby, your back,” his voice cracked a little as the words came out, and you could tell that he was mentally kicking himself for that fact that you had gotten hurt.

“Oh, Steve, it’s okay,” he opened his mouth to protest but you were quick to cut him off, “seriously. It doesn’t even really hurt; I swear.” It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that. Besides, it’s not like you hadn’t gotten ripped to shreds by an inter dimensional creature in the past. This was not your first rodeo.

He stared at you in disbelief, but didn’t argue. “Let me see it at least,” he offered a compromise, to which you couldn’t really say no. You walked a few steps ahead of him and lifted up your shirt, revealing the expanse of your back. Steve struggled to swallow the lump in his throat as he assessed the damage. Deep gashes littered your back and it was caked in blood that was beginning to dry. You shivered as the cool air hit your skin, and Steve hurried towards you to pull your shirt back down.

He thought about the scars on your arm from the Byers’ living room. He thought about the way that he had just let you go back into that house. Steve had never quite gotten over the guilt of not immediately running back in to help you. He thought back to how your immediate instinct had been to care for others, always acting in compassion and selflessness.

“Y/n, what are you doing?”

“Steve, we can’t leave, are you kidding me? They’re in way over their heads. They need help.”

“It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you in there. It’s not up for discussion,” Steve argued, stepping around the door and reaching out to grab your wrist again. You quickly stepped back, pulling your hands out of his reach.

“Y/n, you’re not going back in there. I’m not joking.”

“Neither am I,” you shot back, turning back towards the door. You heard him call out your name again, but you were already through the front door, back in the discomfort of the Byers’ family room.

Steve watched you enter the house and felt his chest tighten. He couldn’t quite place the feeling because he’d never quite felt that way before. It was like a deeply rooted panic; like something was about to go horribly wrong.

He tried to shove it aside as he fumbled with his keys again, pulling the car door open. His heart still felt like it was sinking in his chest. His mind quickly flashed to how surprised he had been that you had knocked on his door. He thought about the fact that you must’ve walked all over town trying to find the Henderson boy. He thought about the fact that you had responded in compassion rather than condescension when he told you about what happened with Nancy.

You had every reason to not give him the benefit of the doubt, but you did anyway. He looked back at the house once more and the lights suddenly came to life, haphazardly flashing in a display of colorful chaos. With each flash of color, he could see your silhouette outlined through the shades adorning the front window of the Byers’ residence. By all accounts you should have been trembling, scared out of your mind, but to Steve you looked stoic.

He had a feeling that this was just the beginning of your story together, and he wasn’t about to let it end prematurely. He slammed the car door shut and sprinted towards the front door.

When he threw it open, he was thrust into the middle of the attack. His heart stopped when he noticed the way you were pinned to the floor, shrieking in pain as the creature’s claws were digging roughly into the skin of your arm.

“Give me that!” Steve yelled, ripping the bat out of Jonathan’s hand. He had been staring dumbfounded at the monster, petrified by his own fear. Steve reared back and swung as hard as he could, landing a solid hit to the creature’s side and knocking it off balance. He would never be able to describe the relief he felt as he saw you roll out of the way, no longer confined to the monster’s viselike hold.

Seeing the gashes on your back now just reminded him of the fact that had he acted sooner, had he simply followed you back in the house immediately rather than nearly bailing on you, the scars that littered your arm wouldn’t even be there. You’d have been safe. You wouldn’t have passed out and needed to go to the hospital. You wouldn’t have had to continue wearing long sleeves in public to avoid stares and questions.

You would have been okay.

But he didn’t go back in immediately. And now you had more scars because he didn’t just get out of the damn water quick enough.

Suddenly your voice registered in his consciousness, and he whipped his head around to attend to it.

“Steve? Hey, baby, you disappeared for a second there. Are you okay?” you inquired, staring up at him with the sweetest look on your face, so sweet in fact that Steve could’ve probably dropped to one knee and proposed right then and there. Guilt tore at his chest in a way that was much more painful that the physical damage those bats had done.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. No, I’m fine; just thinking, is all,” he replied, trying his best to sound nonchalant, not really needing you to know the weight he had been carrying since that fateful day.

You didn’t really believe him, but there wasn’t really time to talk about it as the bats had reached the tree line and you all had to break out into a sprint to avoid another attack.

***

You all crouched under Skull Rock in the Upside Down and you couldn’t help but feel uneasy at how weird it all was. You thought about all the time that Will spent in this place and you felt like you could throw up. He was just a kid. You were basically an adult and you could barely handle being down there; you couldn’t imagine how he had been able to survive it.

For your sanity, you shoved the thought away.

The shrieking of the bats dissipated as they finally cleared from the area. “That was close,” Robin sighed, releasing the breath she’d been holding as you all stood up.

“Yeah, too close,” Eddie complained, his eyes wide considering the fact that he was thrust into all of this. The rest of you had at least had enough experience with all of this crazy shit that nothing could really surprise you too much anymore. You were sure that Eddie was probably about to go insane with the impossibility of it all.

Suddenly, Steve stumbled, falling harshly against the side of the rock formation as he tried to steady himself.

“Steve?!” You shouted out, running to your boyfriend as he pushed himself back to a somewhat upright position.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he promised you, but you weren’t believing it for a second.

“No, no, no. You’re not. You’re losing blood!” You cried out, tears beginning to cloud your vision. “Come on; sit, please,” you begged him. Combined with the fact that he could barely stand anyway, your teary eyes were enough to make him comply. You tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of your shirt, hesitating as you looked at the severity of his wound.

You sniffled a bit before asking him, “you ready?”

“Just do it,” he replied, squeezing his eyes shut as he awaited the pain he knew would inevitably follow as you bandaged his injury. His heart broke at your whispered apologies as you wrapped the fabric tightly around his torso. After you secured the fabric, you leaned into him, wrapping him in a tight hug. You placed a small and gentle kiss to his neck before pulling away. “Thank you,” he whispered, and he wasn’t sure if he was thanking you for the bandage or the show of affection, but he decided it was both.

“So, uh,” your attention was drawn to Eddie, who had climbed on top of Skull Rock, “this place is like Hawkins but with monsters and nasty shit?”

“Pretty much,” you answered as you wrapped an arm around Steve’s back to brace him while he regained his balance. Eddie paused for a moment before he began to get down. “Wait! Watch out for the vines!” You were quick to add before he could even take a single step.

“It’s all a hive mind,” Nancy quickly explained, recognizing just how dire this situation could become. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do if one of you misstepped and brought on an army of monsters directly fucking to you.

“It’s what?”

“All of the creepy crawlies around here, dude. They’re like one or something. You step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna,” Steve explained and though it wasn’t the most eloquent explanation, Eddie got the point and carefully maneuvered around the vines covering the iconic rock. If Steve had cared even a modicum more about school, he could probably tutor Eddie way better than you could.

“But everything from our world is still here right? Like besides the people?” Robin asked, her mind quickly trying to hatch a plan.

“As far as I understand, yeah,” you confirmed, looking at her with a bit of hope forming in your chest at the way her gears were clearly turning.

“So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and get guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate.”

“I highly doubt that the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin, but guns, yeah sure,” Steve responded, a hint of annoyance in his voice. You shot him a look that screamed “be nice” but you decided that you would give him a little bit of slack considering the fact that he was probably about two minutes away from dying if you guys didn’t show up when you did to save him. You felt like you could vomit at the thought.

“We don’t have to go all the way downtown for guns, I have guns…in my bedroom,” Nancy spoke up and looked between all of you.

“You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns—plural—in your bedroom?” Eddie asked incredulously. Eddie didn’t know the half of it. Wait until he found out that you had guns too (but Steve didn’t really know about that either).

“A Russian Makarov and a revolver,” Nancy confirmed.

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one,” you reminded her, your mind flashing back to the way she’d pointed the revolver in your face as you had tried to deescalate the situation. In hindsight, there was absolutely no way in hell that you could have calmed that situation down.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Nancy replied sheepishly, and you just shot her a smile that let her know that she was forgiven…it would be kind of hard not to forgive her given the circumstances. Suddenly, something flashed across your face as Eddie’s denim vest hit Steve across the chest with a thud.

“For your modesty,” he glared at your boyfriend and you couldn’t help but chuckle. The levity didn’t last long as the ground began to shake. You stumbled, nearly falling, but Steve caught you and pulled you into him as you both braced yourself agains the side of the rock. You spun around in his arms, burying your face in his chest and clinging to him. Everything about this place was so unpredictable; he was your only constant.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Steve whispered into your ear as the ground continued to rumble and ripple underneath your feet. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere, baby. I love you.” He placed a small kiss to your temple. You tried to take deep breaths to calm down, beginning to settle as you focused on the way that Steve’s arm felt around you. You tried to imagine yourself in his bed, lying together on a lazy Saturday morning, pressed into his bare chest.

The earthquake slowed to a stop and snarling and screeching sounded in the distance. You shuddered, goosebumps erupting over your entire body as you pressed yourself further into Steve.

“So guns seem like a pretty good idea to me,” Eddie finally spoke up, Robin nodding aggressively beside him as they both began sitting up from their place on the ground. You took a deep breath as you looked up at Steve, worry tugging at the corners of your lips. There was so much you wanted to say to him as you looked up into his brown eyes, but instead, you pulled away, grabbing his hand and pulling him alongside you as you and your friends took off towards Nancy’s house.

***

Steve watched as you walked ahead of him, talking with Nancy and Robin as you tried to formulate a more thorough game plan. While you all considered what ifs and discussed the pertinent unknowns about the Upside Down, Steve fell into step with Eddie.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve finally spoke up to get his attention, “Hey, man, I just want to say thanks…for saving my ass back there.”

“Shit, you saved your own ass, man,” Eddie replied, “I mean, that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there.”

“Ozzy?”

“When you took a bite out of that bat.” When Steve looked at him confused, Eddie continued, “Ozzy Osbourne? Black Sabbath? He bit a bat’s head off onstage? You know?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s very metal what you did, that’s all I’m saying...Y/n told me you were a badass—insisted on the matter, in fact.”

“Wait, she said that?” Steve confirmed, not quite believing his ears. Though he hated to admit it, he couldn’t help but feel jealousy deep within his chest when he thought about the fact that you were tutoring Eddie.

Steve always just thought about all the times that he would quiz you to help you prepare for tests and how cute you looked when you were trying to remember something. Or how you were so sweet and patient with him when he was barely going to graduate and you helped him get a high enough mark in his history class. To know that Ms. O’Donell had set you and Eddie up as study buddies was nearly enough to make his blood boil. How long was it going to take you to realize that he wasn’t good enough for you anymore? How long was it going to be until you decided you needed something new and exciting, like resident bad boy Eddie Munson?

“Are you kidding? She worships you, dude,” Eddie explained, “you have no idea…it’s kind of annoying, to be honest. I don’t know why I care what she thinks, but, uh, guess I got a little jealous, Steve.”

Steve whipped his head up, anger beginning to grow in his chest as he tried to decipher what Eddie meant. Was he jealous because he was into you? Because that was simply not going to happen.

“I guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude,” Eddie continued. Steve released the breath he’d been holding as he realized Eddie’s jealousy lied elsewhere. “Rich parents, popular, chicks love him. Not a douche? No way, man. No way. That like flies in the face of all the laws in the universe, and my own personal Munson doctrine.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He was honestly a bit flattered by Eddie’s statement because it confirmed that he had changed for the better. Steve never felt like he was enough for you, but maybe—just maybe—he was becoming the kind of person that could be. Eddie quickly pulled him out of his thoughts as he leaned in and spoke up again.

“Still super jealous as hell, by the way. Which is why I would never have jumped in that lake to save your ass. Not under any, uh…normal circumstances. Nope. Outside of D&D I am no hero; I see danger and I just turn heel and run, or at least that’s what I’ve learned about myself this week.”

“Give yourself a break, man,” Steve gave Eddie a sympathetic look. He wasn’t quite sure if he was saying it for Eddie’s benefit or his own as his mind flashed back to the way he was about to run that fateful day at Jonathan’s house.

“See, the only reason I came in here was ‘cause those ladies came in straight after you,” Eddie explained, his expression set in a way that made it clear he was serious. He gestured ahead to the three of you girls, walking alongside each other. “I was too ashamed to be the one that stayed behind. But y/n? She didn’t waste a second. She just dove right in. That was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve felt his stomach drop at Eddie’s words as he thought about the lengths you would go to keep him safe. It didn’t sit right with him and he was internally panicking at the thought of you putting yourself in harm’s way for him. His thoughts were interrupted as the ground began shaking again. His heart stopped as he watched the way that you refused to brace yourself, instead bounding forward into the clearing just past the trees. In the distance, you could see Nancy’s house and your stomach dropped at the sight of it. There wasn’t any way to describe it other than that it looked…wrong.

You jumped a bit as you felt a hand on your shoulder, relaxing slightly as you realized it was just Steve. You turned and looked up into his brown eyes, worry etched across your face. He looked tired and you knew that you probably looked the same. You were racing against time and fate and you weren’t sure this was the type of disaster that you would both make it out on the other side.

This time felt like an ending, and it felt inevitable. You shoved the thought down and swallowed the lump in your throat as you turned away and pushed forward.

“Hey,” you heard Steve’s voice as you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, slowing you down slightly. The rest of the group continued on, clearly reading the tension in the air and wanting no part in it.

“What?” The word came out more exasperated than you had originally intended. You could see Steve bristle at your attitude, and you watched as he took a deep breath, clearly trying to push aside his irritation.

“I just…you…you’re like really being impulsive right now, okay?” Steve finally settled on the words, knowing that they were probably very much the wrong ones, and his voice was tinted with annoyance. He hated that he felt like he couldn’t just talk to you; he never used to feel that way.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Your eyes narrowed as a quiet rage built in your chest.

Steve looked at you for a second, his eyes wandering across your face as he took the time to think about what he really wanted to say, his conversation with Eddie at the forefront of his mind.

“Eddie told me about how you dove in right after me. You can’t do that shit, y/n.” Steve warned you, his voice low as he tried to stay calm.

You scoffed, in disbelief of the words coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth. “Are you serious right now? What the hell did you expect me to do, Harrington? I wasn’t going to fucking let you drown! If-if we hadn’t gotten there when we did, you would have…” your voice trailed off, unable to verbalize the fate that Steve had narrowly avoided.

“It doesn’t matter, y/n,” Steve shook his head at you, his eyes locked onto yours. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. Especially if it was because you were trying to protect me. I want to protect you.”

“How is that fair, Steve?” Your eyes began welling up with tears, the anger slipping away from your tone replaced with a deeply rooted sorrow that tore at your chest.

“None of this is fair,” Steve’s voice failed him as his words came out in a whisper. It was weird standing across from him in this moment. Suddenly you felt like the girl that knocked on his door that November evening your sophomore year. You felt a pang in your chest as you thought about the chaos that brought you together, doubt creeping up in your throat.

Did Steve only love you because you were just victims of circumstance? If none of that had ever happened, would you have just been some girl he wouldn’t take the time to care to remember? How long was it going to be before he woke up and realized that there was someone better than you out there for him?

How long would it be until he was no longer yours?

A tear rolled down your cheek and you felt guilt flood your veins as Steve wiped it away, his hand moving to cup your face as he looked into your eyes. You tried and failed to swallow the lump in your throat, a small sob escaping your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut tight and turned your head to the side. Looking at him with all that love in his eyes was too much to bear.

“Hey, hey, hey,” his voice was soft as he brought his other hand underneath your chin to bring you back to him. “Would you please just look at me baby? Come on, let me see those pretty eyes.”

You were falling apart and you didn’t know how anything or anyone could pick up the pieces.

“Talk to me,” his voice was a whisper. “Please.”

Your eyes were still shut tight, but you could feel his lips ghost over the skin of your neck as he dipped his head down to place a gentle kiss below your ear. His hands had dropped from your face, pulling at your waist until you were pressed together. He swayed gently from side to side, moving to cradle the nape of your neck in his hand as you buried your face in his neck. You inhaled deeply, trying to take in his scent, the only familiar thing about this foreign land.

“I’m just scared,” you whispered, gasping in air afterwards, barely in control of your own voice. You finally looked up at him and your watery eyes were enough for him to break.

“Me too,” he admitted. You took a deep breath and pulled away from him. He nodded at you and reached out to grab your hand while you rejoined your friends who were a ways ahead of you now. You were glad they were willing to give you guys the privacy you needed to figure out all of your bullshit emotions. Young love was usually messy, but it typically didn’t involve monsters and near death experiences. As Steve walked beside you, you noticed the deep bruise around his neck and thought back to the viselike grip that bat had him in and you shuddered.

When you reached Nancy’s front door you felt nauseous as you watched the way vines crawled up every wall, wrapping around her front porch. You took a careful step over a vine pulsing beneath your feet, wondering just how fast Vecna would know you were there with one misstep.

You wondered how fast everything would be over. If he would just take care of you then and there. Your hand went to the walkman in your pocket, still dry, sealed in its plastic bag. Steve’s hand darted out and gripped yours in his, his fingers interlocking with yours. He felt unsteady as he used his other hand to point the flashlight into the dark entryway of the Wheeler residence.

It was all ash and rot and vines, and it made you sick to your stomach.

“Might be time to hire a maid, Wheeler,” Robin attempted to lighten the mood but to no avail.

“Come on. I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to,” she replied, and you didn’t blame her. You were glad you weren’t at your house; you didn’t think you’d ever be able to look at it the same again if you saw it in the state that Nancy’s was.

You all carefully made your way up the stairs, but you felt a tug on your hand halfway up and you turned around confused, Steve lagging behind and looking out over the banister.

“Steve, come on,” you shook his hand and he quickly whipped around to face you. He stared at you blankly, dropping your hand before responding.

“You head up there, I’ll be right behind you.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words. “Steve—“

“Y/n, just trust me, okay?”

The sincerity in his eyes is what caused you to cave as you took a deep, shaky breath and turned away from him, leaving him behind.

You joined your friends at Nancy’s desk where she was removing the lid of a shoebox to reveal…well, shoes.

“Those aren’t guns,” Eddie pointed out the obvious.

“These heels are pointy, but I was hoping for something more along the lines of a deadly projectile,” Robin stared at Nancy with intensity, the plan you had all crafted slowly falling apart before your eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Nancy whispered, her brow furrowed as she inspected the shoes.

“Maybe you left them somewhere else,” you offered, trying to keep the last little bit of hope you had in your chest alive.

“There’s a six-year-old in the house. I know where I keep my guns,” Nancy breathed out, looking at you with desperation. You knew the feeling. “And also, I threw these away years ago.”

The spark of hope fizzled out, turning to dread as you picked up a stack of index cards, clearly from one of Kaminsky’s insanely difficult chem tests your sophomore year. You felt a bit of jealousy tear at your heart, knowing that Steve used to quiz Nancy for that class. You had sat a row behind her and spent the rest of the year trying to push that envy down in your chest as he walked her to class each day. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that was over…but why had Nancy kept the flashcards? She was going into journalism.

Nothing made sense.

“Nancy…” you started off slow, afraid of the dots you were connecting. “These are from sophomore chemistry.”

“A-and…and this wallpaper…this is old wallpaper. And this mirror went to a yard sale!” Nancy darted around the room, pointing out all of the inconsistencies with the state of her room and the sinking feeling in your stomach grew.

She suddenly picked up a journal and started furiously flipping through pages, stopping dead in her tracks as she reached the last entry.

“Nancy, you’re scaring me,” Robin spoke up. You couldn’t help but feel the same.

“I think the reason my guns aren’t here is because they don’t exist yet.” She turned towards you and held up the closed book. “This diary should be full of entries but it’s not. The last entry is November 6th, 1983.”

You shuddered, goosebumps erupting over your entire body. “The day Will went missing,” you whispered. “We’re in the past.”

You all stared at each other wide eyed, trying to comprehend the implications of your discovery. Your moment was cut short when you heard Steve’s voice ring out, yelling. You felt like you could vomit as you cursed yourself for leaving him behind, sprinting down the stairs and bumping your hip on the corner of the banister in the process.

You hissed in pain, but you didn’t let it stop you from flying around the corner, where you were met with the sight of your boyfriend screaming out into the empty room.

“Dustin? Hello? Hello? Dustin?!”

“Maybe he really does have rabies,” Robin spoke and you elbowed her in the side, not thrilled with her joke.

“Steve? Baby, what are you doing?” You slowly approached him. He whipped around, shining his flashlight in your eyes.

“He’s here. Henderson. That little shit, he-he’s here. He’s like…in the walls or something. Just listen,” Steve explained through gasps of air. He began calling out to Henderson again, his flashlight searching around the room as if the boy would appear.

You were about to go retrieve your boyfriend from his obvious psychotic break when Dustin’s voice suddenly filled your ears. He sounded far away, but Steve was right. It was him.

He was here.

Your heart sank in your chest at the thought that Dustin might be in this alternate dimension with you. You began frantically searching the room looking for him as you all shouted his name.

“Alright, either this kid can’t hear us or he’s being a total douchebag,” Steve spoke up and you rolled your eyes.

“Will. He found a way to speak to Joyce through the lights,” Nancy explained, quickly trying to flip switches on lamps to see if anything would happen.

You spun around quickly, ready to try any other lights in the room, when you noticed a shimmer around the overhead light of the Wheelers’ kitchen table. It looked like magic and you couldn’t take your eyes off of it as it pulsed and wavered in the otherwise dark world you were in.

“Guys,” you breathed out, and Steve shined his flashlight up at the light fixture. You slowly reached your hands towards it and you could feel the way the particles in the air swirled around your fingertips, feeling a sense of electricity in your nerves as the lights pulsed on and off.

Your friends all joined you, each taking a turn to investigate the strange phenomena laid out before you. “It…kinda tickles,” Eddie spoke up, and in any other situation you would have laughed at Hawkins High’s biggest metalhead making a comment like that.

“Does anyone know morse code?” You asked, knowing that Dustin knew it like the back of his hand.

Robin and Nancy both shook their heads and your heart began to sink. It was all useless if no one knew how to properly communicate.

“Wait,” Eddie spoke up, “does SOS count?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, stepping aside to give Eddie room to tap out the code in the light fixture. Steve’s hand found the small of your back and you allowed yourself to smile up at him for a moment.

Maybe things were looking up after all.

***

You all sat with bated breath as you crowded around the side of Nancy’s bed. You ran your fingers through your hair, the anticipation making you almost want to pull it out. Steve wrapped a hand around your waist, squeezing your side as a signal to calm down.

It was sweet, but it didn’t really help.

“Come on, come on,” Steve whispered, his voice sounding desperate. He let his hand slip from your waist, allowing it to slide down your back and towards your back pocket, needing to check for himself that the walkman was still there. After he confirmed it was, he let his hand linger there a little longer, before slipping his hand into your other back pocket.

Steve’s love language was physical touch. There was no doubt about it. But you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the fact that his need to have a hand on your ass outweighed the fact that you were in a scary as fuck alternate dimension.

“Are you guys seeing this?” Dustin’s voice rang out, echoing throughout the bedroom. Suddenly, you were staring into the shimmer from before, and you reached your hand out to touch it, desperately needing to find that warmth again in this cold, unforgiving place.

“Holy shit!” Erica exclaimed. You cringed as you thought about how she had been brought into this mess again too. You tried to shove the thought aside. You didn’t want to feed the guilt that Vecna was exploiting.

“Okay, we’re gonna unplug it but leave it there…try it now!” Dustin’s voice filled the room again.

Your hands hesitantly reached out towards the bed, hoping with all your heart that your message would translate to the Lite-Brite the kids had. You shakily wrote out the letters, cringing at how shaky your handwriting looked from how nervous you were.

Suddenly, Dustin’s laughter filled your ears. “It worked!”

You released the breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding, and you just wished that you could somehow travel across time and space to give the Henderson boy a hug.

You wracked your brain trying to think of how to quickly explain what was going on. You decided on the word “stuck,” writing it out as fast as you could.

“They’re stuck in the Upside Down,” this time it was Lucas’s voice filling the room, echoes drifting through the open space. It was disorienting and it would be scary if it wasn’t the goofball kids you’d come to know and love.

“You can’t get back through Watergate?” Dustin asked.

“What the hell’s Watergate?” Your boyfriend turned to you, looking completely and utterly lost. You grabbed onto his hand, rubbing your thumb across the back of it as you looked up at him lovingly (and somewhat pitifully too, if you were being honest).

“Because it’s in the water and it’s a gate...” Robin explained so that you didn’t have to.

“Oh, that’s cute,” Eddie joked, and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t sure why Dustin had such an affinity for coming up with dumbass nicknames for the component parts of the Upside Down, but unfortunately he did.

G-U-A-R-D-E-D, you spelled out in the shimmer in front of you.

“We think we have a theory that can help with that,” Dustin spoke up and your heart soared. You didn’t want to spend any more time here than you had too, desperate for some sort of escape. “We think Watergate isn’t the only gate; that there’s a gate at every murder site.”

You felt your stomach drop at his words, your mind suddenly being pulled back towards your seemingly inevitable fate. You barely heard your friends discussing what Dustin could possibly mean. Their voices sounded faint and far away as you tried and failed to calm yourself down. Steve squeezed your hand, breaking you away from your thoughts and shooting you a look that said “are you okay?” to which you nodded. He didn’t really believe you, but he guessed that now wasn’t the time to argue as he watched Nancy draw out a question mark.

“Seriously guys? How many times do I have to be right on the money before you trust me?” The boy sounded exasperated and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“This kid’s gotta get his ego in check,” Steve spoke up, a look of disgust plastered across his face.

“I know! It’s his tone!” You complained. Steve opened his mouth again to continue your conversation about the Henderson boy when Robin cut you off.

“Hey, can you two stop talking about your pseudo-son and can we get back to figuring how the hell to get out of here, please and thanks?”

“How far is your trailer?” You turned to ask Eddie.

“Seven miles.”

“Uh, I know your house here is like weirdly, creepily frozen in time and shit, but haven’t you always had bikes?” Robin asked.

Nancy didn’t say anything, quickly leading you all back down the stairs towards the garage, no doubt to find the bikes in question.

“This reminds me of when I taught you how to ride a bike,” Steve spoke up, a smirk plastered across his face. You smacked him in the arm and rolled your eyes as your face heated up, thinking back to the time he was describing.

It was the spring of your junior year, after Tina’s Halloween party and Dart and the tunnels. Your parents had picked up a lot of extra shifts and were gone most of the time, so you were staying at Steve’s pretty frequently.

He was driving you back to his house after school when he finally broke your comfortable silence, turning the radio down.

“Hey!” You whined, reaching forward to turn the song you had been humming along to back up, but he grabbed your hand and gently pushed it away. “I was listening to that, you know.”

“I’ve been thinking…” he started, and for a second you were worried he was going to ask you out. You felt your heart start racing and your palms start sweating as you tried to think of what you’d even say. It seemed way too soon; after all, him and Nancy had pretty much just broken up a few months ago, and you didn’t want to be some rebound for him to dump once someone better came along, besides, what if it ruined your friendship or—

Your thoughts were cut short when he finished his sentence, “I think it’s about time I taught you how to ride a bike.”

You stared at him dumbfounded, barely believing the words that had exited his mouth. “You’re fucking joking, right?”

“No, I’m dead serious, y/n.”

You chuckled, but it awkwardly died in your throat when you realized he was looking at you very, very seriously. “Why? Like pardon my French, but what the fuck?”

At this point he was pulling into his driveway, putting the car in park and turning towards you. He grabbed one of your hands before he spoke up again. His fingers toyed with yours as he stared down at them, too embarrassed by what he was about to say to make eye contact with you.

“It’s just that….ugh, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain,” he mumbled, and immediately alarm bells were going off in your brain. Steve didn’t get like this; he was confident, he said what he thought, and that was that. The fact that he seemed to be at a loss for words was more than a little concerning.

You pulled your hand away from his and you moved your hands to the sides of his face, tilting his head up to look him in the eyes. “Steve, what is going on? You’re scaring me.”

“I just think about how Dustin ran off from you in the fall when all that shit was going down and how you had to run after him. With all the crazy, fucked up shit that goes on here, I just would feel a little bit better if you at least had a more reliable form of transportation other than walking everywhere.”

You giggled a bit, and Steve glared at you, clearly not happy with that response. “Steve, I’m fine, I swear. I get around just fine.”

Your words didn’t seem to ease his frustration, so you tried again. “Besides, why ride a bike when I can be chauffeured around by you all the time?”

Steve rolled his eyes before taking the keys out of the ignition. “Come on, get out. You’re learning how to ride a bike.”

You sighed, unfastening your seatbelt as you followed Steve to his garage, He guided a bike out onto his driveway and placed a helmet haphazardly on your head, reaching up to fasten it under your chin.

“I feel like an idiot,” you spoke up, and Steve tried really hard not to chuckle at how cute and sweet you looked.

“Well, you’re such a genius that I think feeling like an idiot every once in a while isn’t such a bad thing.”

Steve held the bike up for you while you mounted it, placing your feet on the pedals.

“Alright, so you’re just gonna pedal your feet, and I’m going to hold onto the handle bars and everything’s going to be fine, okay?”

You nodded and did as he said, shakily moving your feet as you attempted to steer the bike. You practiced that for a while before he moved his hands to your hips to help you keep your balance, so that you could work towards steering the bike yourself without assistance. Finally, he let go and just like that, you were riding a bike.

“I’m doing it Steve! Holy shit!” You couldn’t believe it. Your parents had never been able to afford a bike, so you just never learned.

“That’s my girl!” Steve shouted out, and your heart nearly stopped. His words caught you so off guard that you lost balance, the bike toppling over onto the street. You caught yourself on your hands, but skinned them and your knees in the process.

Steve rushed over to you, his hands hovering over you as he assessed the damage. “Y/n! I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Steve, calm down,” you assured him, hoping he didn’t see how beet red your face was. You began to stand up, but faltered a bit, pain shooting through your ankle as you came to the realization that you must have sprained it. You hissed in pain, and suddenly, Steve was picking you up bridal style to carry you back to his house. “Steve! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he replied simply, and you tried to keep your face from heating up at the way his arms felt around your body.

He spent the rest of the afternoon profusely apologizing, and you continued telling him that it was okay, but he was still clearly mad at himself when you went to bed that night.

He laid facing away from you, and it made your heart hurt. You decided you needed to show him that you didn’t care and that you were okay.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute as you wrapped your small frame around his. Normally in bed, you were the little spoon in your weird in between relationship that you occupied. Never once had you been the one to initiate it. This was new territory.

You pressed yourself into the bare skin of his back and sighed at the warmth he radiated. Slowly, he turned in your embrace to face you, gently pushing a strand of hair away and tucking it behind your ear.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he whispered, “I shouldn’t have pressured you. It was wrong of me and I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“Oh would you just stop it! I’m fine, Steve! My ankle doesn’t even hurt anymore, and I’m glad I know how to ride a bike now. All’s well that ends well, okay?”

He was still mad at himself, but he decided not to argue, instead choosing to take a calculated risk.

He gently grabbed your upper arm, pushing you down to lay flat on your back as he shifted so he was hovering above you. He gazed down at you with a look that screamed determination as he slowly closed the gap between you.

He shot you a look that seemingly asked “is this okay?” and you just nodded, unable to speak in anticipation of whatever was about to happen. This was all the confirmation he needed before he dipped his head down, his lips settling below your ear as he placed a gentle kiss there.

You let out a shaky breath as you closed your eyes, reveling in the way his lips felt against your skin. He kissed down your neck and across your exposed collarbones, and you thanked your lucky stars that you had put on a tank top that left enough available skin for him to pay attention to. Your chest heaved a bit at his touch, and your hand darted to the back of his neck, holding him to you and running your hands through his hair. After a few more kisses that were getting dangerously close to your cleavage and progressively more intense, he placed one more below your ear before pulling away.

You stared up at him in awe as he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from his hair as he held it up in between the two of you. He took a moment to inspect the damaged skin on your palm, red and raw from when you had fallen. Slowly, he brought it to his mouth, placing the gentlest of kisses on it without breaking eye contact with you.

“There,” he whispered, “all better.”

That had been the first time he had ever kissed you and you felt your body growing hot just at the thought of it.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing you didn’t try to teach me how to drive,” you rolled your eyes, trying to play it off like you weren’t turned on by the memory of his lips against your skin.

Steve thought about it, and he wondered if teaching you to drive wouldn’t be such a bad idea. If you weren’t even dating and he had been able to kiss you like that when he taught you how to ride a bike, he was pretty sure the two of you were going to have a much more fun time in the back of his BMW after having you drive around the block for a little while.

Now was not the time to think about that though, and the two of you continued down the stairs, finally making it to Nancy’s garage as you each grabbed a bike.

Your legs were tired by the time you reached the trailer park, not being well suited for riding a bike such a long distance considering you had just learned how to about a year ago. Red lightning cracked through the sky, and you jumped every time you heard it. You gripped the handlebars tighter as you continued pedaling towards the Munsons’ trailer.

As soon as you pulled up, you all quickly ditched your bikes, each of you panting as you tried to catch your breath from the seven mile trip.

“That’s gotta be a Guinness World Record,” Robin spoke through gulps of air, “most miles traveled inter-dimensionally.”

“Just inhaled a bunch of that crap,” Steve grumbled referring to the ash as he coughed for emphasis, “it’s stuck in my throat.”

“Poor baby,” you attempted to patronize him, but your words died as a cough escaped your own throat, to which Steve shot you a condescending glance.

“Yeah, and who’s the baby now.”

“Will you two just shut the fuck up,” Robin coughed through her words, while Nancy rolled her eyes at the three of you. You crossed the threshold of Eddie’s trailer and you all stared silently at the pulsing, glowing gate above you.

“This is where Chrissy died,” Eddie spoke up, “like right where she died.”

A chill shot down your spine as you thought about Eddie’s description of Chrissy’s death. You tried to push the thought aside, but to no avail.

“Holy shit,” you whispered unable to pull your eyes away from the portal back to the familiar, despite how much you wanted to.

You watched as a shadow passed over the opening, and you felt nauseous at the thought of what it could be. “I think there’s something in there,” Robin announced what you were all thinking.

Something pressed into the gate, pushing at the glowing membrane before it suddenly burst, light pouring in through the now torn opening. You all backed up, shrieking as you all took defensive stances, ready to fight whatever you had to in order to survive.

Steve slowly crept towards the gate, looking up through it before whispering in awe.

“No way.”

A chuckle rang out that you would have recognized anywhere and you joined Steve to see Dustin smiling up at you alongside Max, Lucas, and Erica. They were upside down and it was do disorienting it was almost nauseating as you each looked up at each other through your respective ceilings.

“Holy shit this is trippy,” you laughed as Dustin continued to celebrate above you, thrilled that his theory was correct. The kids went off to go gather materials to hopefully bring you back to the real world as you waited in the Upside Down. Max and Lucas returned to your field of view, setting down a mattress that they had dragged from Eddie’s room to cushion your fall. You tried not to make a face at the way the sheets were stained.

“Those stains are, uh…I don’t know what those stains are,” Eddie began to attempt to explain but quickly gave up. Dustin walked over, holding together a rope he fastened out of several sheets.

“I’m not quite sure how these physics are going to work, but here goes nothing,” he said as he tossed the rope up through the gaping hole in the ceiling. “There we go,” he added as gravity caused one end of the rope to fall towards the floor in the Upside Down, “and if my theory is correct…”

He trailed off as he let go of the blanket and you watched as it miraculously hover around a central point between the two worlds, gravity working on either side to hold the rope securely in place.

Robin tugged on it to confirm it would hold and you couldn’t really believe what you were seeing.

“This is the craziest shit I have ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen some crazy shit,” Erica announced and you couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing just what crazy shit she was likely referring to.

“Guess I’m the guinea pig,” Robin spoke up as she attempted to climb the rope. It was surreal watching as the pull of gravity shifted, watching her tumble to the mattress below her as soon as she crossed the threshold back into the Hawkins you knew and loathed.

The four of you that remained looked at each other, silently trying to debate who would be next to leave the Upside Down.

“Alright, guess I’ll go,” Eddie spoke up hesitantly, climbing up the makeshift rope. Nancy followed after him and then suddenly it was just you and Steve, staring at each other through the ash floating through the air.

“See you on the other side,” Steve smirked at you, and you couldn’t help but grin back at him. Though you knew your tribulations were far from over, at least you were getting the hell out of this place, finally home free.

“On the other side,” you agreed. Steve helped to hoist you up, and you climbed towards the familiar. You passed the center point of the rope, bracing for contact with the mattress but it never came.

Instead everything went dark as you continued falling into oblivion.

***

a/n: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! If you did and you wanted to reblog and comment I’d be so so grateful (it really makes my day to see what you guys think of the story). Since I’m getting close to the end of the content we have, I probably will open requests soon. These can be related to Adventures in Babysitting if you’d like (like I’d love to write about some mundane shit for the in between moments of conflict in Hawkins) or they could be completely separate! Also, writing the bike flashback was my favorite part of this chapter :)

taglist:

@season4steve @sassyheroneckgiant @tangledinthegreatxscape @kahhori @palachannie @keeryverse @usaguisenpaisblog @emilieluckwood @sabrinadelreyy @mochminnie @xprloki @kitdjarin1 @kissmxcheek @daemonskitty @bethsvrse @aheadfullofsteverogers @quinnsadilla @chervbs @sheisjoeschateau @goosy-goose @frtfvthg @criesinlies @cycat4077 @kachelleee @killerqueenfan @newyorkangelbaby @spaghetittied @anxfl @huffledor-able541

#stranger things #steve harrington #joe keery #steve harrington fanfic #netflix #friends to lovers #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction

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fictionalmenxyn · 4 months ago

Text

៙𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫៙

Pairing: rafe x soccer player!reader (established relationship)

Warnings: language, injury and blood.

៙៙៙

It was currently 6:34pm, it was the finale game of your soccer season. It was versus your rivals, so a huge game for your team. Your team were worried, about the playing… more like the cheating… you’ve played this team many times. And the team never learn to stop cheating.

So here you are, team captain, staying in the middle of the pitch. You shook hands with the other team’s captain, then shook hands with the referee. Referee asked you “heads or tails?” You replied “heads.” So the other team got tails.

The referee flipped the coin, it landed on heads. That’s a good start. The referee placed the ball down, you moved into position, you were centre forward.

You waited for the whistle to blow, once it did, you kicked the ball to your teammate and began to play.

Rafe and the guys were in the stands. He wore one of your jerseys. Not physically yours cause they’re too small. But your campus sells merchandise of your team’s jerseys. He stood among the people. His and your friends huddled together watching the game. Rafe watched you in awe. You were an extremely good player, even been scouted to other places too. But he always and also admired how the jersey always did you justice. He couldn’t wait till after the game, to get you alone.

You passed to your teammate, running further up. You pointed towards the goal “chip it!” Your teammate chipped the ball over to you. You dribbled the ball before stopping for a second and kicking the ball towards the top left corner. Scoring the first goal of the game.

…sometime later…

Some time later, there was only ten minutes left of the game. The score was 6-3, in your favour. The game was going smoothly so far, only small jabs and slide tackles. Nothing bad, yet.

You currently had the ball, taking it up the field and away from your home goal. Dribbling past many players and passing back and forth between your team.

Your friend and teammate kicked the ball up into the air. Getting the ball down the field quicker. You ran, keeping an eye on the ball.

You jump in the air, so did a rival teammate. As you were coming back down. You felt a sharp pain in your leg. As you landed you saw the girl nudge you as you fell and she stood on your leg. It all felt like slow motion. You watch as some of your team and the referee run over to you. You look down, seeing the blood gush out of your leg. More so, the now broken bone. You groaned, shouting in pain “fuck!!! Shit!! Need a medic!!” You cover your tearing up eyes. Not wanting to see the sight of your leg. You winced in pain as even the slightest breeze or movement.

Rafe and the boys all wince in pain as they watched. Rafe’s worry and angry kicked in as soon as he heard one of the medics of your team say “shit, she’s broken her leg.” Rafe glares at the girl that caused this. Not that she is looking at him. But he did it anyways.

You tilt your head away, not wanting to look. Two medical members of your soccer team come over. The one named Sharon asked “hey Y/n, just breathe for me ok? Can you do that for me? In and out, nice and calm.” You nodded. Taking shaky breaths as your friend/teammate resting your head in their lap.

The referee talked with both coaches of your team and the other team. Turns out this girl has done this many times. And thankfully the referee you had today, was higher up, meaning he could ban the girl. Which is exactly what he did.

As the discussion was happening, you laid on the field. Panicking, you asked “where’s Rafe? Where is he? Can he come down here?? Please?? Sharon can he??” Sharon looked at you and nodded “she thing, sweetie” Sharon turned to one of the girls and asked to go get him.

Rafe watched in worry, he then noticed a girl from your team run over to him and the guys. She spoke “Rafe, Y/n wants you. She needs you…” he nodded. The guys didn’t even say anything to him. They patted him on the shoulder as a silent ‘go to her, we’ll be fine’.

He runs across the field, making his way to you. He dropped to his knees, by your side. He laid on the field, on his stomach so his face was close to you as possible. “Hey baby, I’m here, I’m here…”

You open your eyes and look to him, “Rafe?” He nods “yeah, baby, I’m right here, not leaving your side, never…” you had tears in your eyes. “It hurts so much…” he uses his thumbs to wipe your tears “I know, baby, Sharon is calling nine-one-one, they’re on their way, ok? Just hang in there f’me.” You nodded.

You reached your hand out, he quickly took it in his. Kissing each knuckle. Keeping his lips against your knuckles. “Rafe, how bad is it?” He looked over, seeing patches of red on the grandly put on gauze. He answered “it’s patched up, but it’s pretty bad, babe…” you nodded. He brushed some hair out of your face “you’re gonna be ok, you’re doing so good f’me.. just keep breathing alright?? In and out… just like me, baby, yeah?” You nodded, breathing in and out just like him.

“You’re doing so good, baby, so proud of you… I love you so much, so proud…”

You’ve broken bones before, the hardest thing besides the current pain. Was the pain you’re gonna feel when you can’t train or play games. Even if it was the end of season, you still enjoyed kicking ball and having fun. That’s not gonna be happening anytime soon…

The team is huddled around you. Creating a shield from the crowd. You look at the girls. You spoke “girls, I know I’m injured, but once I’m out of the way and the game continues. Work your hardest ok? There’s only ten minutes left. But that still means we work hard, yeah? Don’t forget that, work your asses off for these last ten minutes.” The girls took all of your words in and nodded. They knew they had to work hard, for you, their captain, their friend, injured friend.

Soon enough you hear the sirens to the ambulance. Next thing you know, you’re in the back of the ambulance holding Rafe’s hand like your life depended on it. Which he held a firm grip, reminding you that he’s still there, and will be.

…sometime later…

You’re now home, well… TannyHill. Considerably your second home. You laid on Rafe’s bed. He insisted on shoving two pillows under your cast to elevate your leg. You felt a little loopy and sluggish from the faded morphine. Rafe laid next to you. Arm around your shoulder as you both watched a movie. You rest your head on his shoulder, every so often he’d kiss your temple. As the second movie of the night finished. You felt your phone buzz in your lap. You grabbed your phone and smile at the text message. It was the soccer group chat. It was a picture of two trophies and a medal. The small trophy had a label ‘player of the game.’ And the bigger trophy was the college finale cup. The text attached to the photo read ‘congrats Cap, we’ve won the final!! Got these precious things waiting for you when we see ya next! Take care, we love you!’

You and Rafe both smile at the text. You had replied back thanking and sending your love to the team. Rafe joked “you’re gonna need a lotta sharpies, baby, you know the team is gonna want to write their names.” You both laugh.

៙៙៙

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kayesfanfics · 1 year ago

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Before He Cheats (Striker x Fem! Reader)

Summary: You’re a farmhand on Rough n’ Tumbleweed Ranch. When your boyfriend cheats on you, Striker is there to pick you back up.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, cursing, sexual content

A/N: This is inspired both by Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood, and cowboy Pedro Pascal but with Striker, my fav cowboy. Also I’m like super proud of this ngl. Enjoy~

“That’s it, Sallie May! I’m burning down his house! His car! That fucker thinks he can sleep with some bitch and come crawlin’ back ta me?! Imma kill him! I will!” You ranted to your best friend, pacing back and forth in the family houses kitchen.

“I told ya that guy was no good, Y/N.” Sallie May shrugged from her spot sitting on the counter, watching you kick around the legs of a chair you had smashed to bits when you had gotten the text. Your boyfriend had cheated, and he only just now got around to telling you…THREE WEEKS LATER. He didn’t even have the balls to tell you in person, he had to do it over text so he didn’t face your wrath head on…but to be honest, that was a smart move. If he were here, you probably would’ve actually killed him.

“He told me I was different! He said he loved me!” You shouted, enraged and heartbroken.

“They always say that, darlin’.” A voice from somewhere behind you purred. You turned around, seeing the other farmhand of Rough n’ Tumbleweed Ranch.

“Hello, Striker.” You muttered, before finally bending down to pick up the ruined chair you had broken and had been tossing around the room, setting the pieces on the table.

“What’s with the chair?” Striker asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Y/N lost her shit.” Sallie May grinned as she hopped off the counter to grab a broom and sweep up the splinters of wood littering the floor.

“Aw, now why’s that, doll?” Striker asked, chewing on a piece of wheat.

“My goddamn boy-EX boyfriend, cheated on me weeks ago, and just now told me over TEXT! Can you believe that?! What kinda coward-“

“Oh, I can believe it. The men ‘round these parts are…sleazy.” He said, tossing the wheat piece in the pile of wood chips.

“Oh, excluding you, I presume?” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well now, I ain’t no saint, but I’m no cheater. No honor in that.” He grinned as he approached you. “How abouts we head down to the bar, huh? Get some drinks, forget about that loser?”

“That…could be nice.” You admitted, blushing a little at how close Striker had gotten to you.

“What, I don’ get no invitation?” Sallie May piped up, grinning at you.

“Tell your mama I’m real sorry about the chair and I’ll fix it later. Please, Sallie May?” You whispered the last part to her. Everyone who had eyes had the hots for Striker, and she knew this could be a good lay to get your mind off your ex and move on quicker. So she finally nodded, and you winked at her before telling Striker you were gonna quickly change out of your dirty work gear.

You put something a little more bar-friendly on, making sure to choose a shirt that showed some extra cleavage, and a pair of jeans that made your ass look even better. Striker smirked and held an arm out for you to hold as he walked you out to his horse, Sallie May waving to you with a teasing grin on her face. You smiled when you reached Bombproof, petting the hell beast while Striker got the saddle ready, before helping you up and getting on himself. You wrapped your arms around his waist as he rode into town, heading to one of the nicer saloons in the area. Since you were deep in the country of Wrath, there was a place to tie your horse where they had a trough of water for them, and Striker held out his hand to help you off and walk you into the bar. The place was rather lively with twangy country music playing, some people watching some sports game on the tv, and others at tables eating or playing pool. You went up to the bar with Striker, ordering your first round and chatting with him.

“So, what was so great bout that little boyfriend of yours anyways? From what I heard from Sallie May, he was a real piece of shit.” Striker asked you as you took a swig of your drink.

“She got to you while I was upstairs, huh?” You chuckled, setting your drink down and rolling your eyes at your best friend.

“Oh yeah. Talked my ears off about how he “kinda-sorta” cheated before, he yelled at you a lot, you’re too forgivin’ of him, loved his car more than he loved you, yadda yadda.”

“That loud mouth.” You muttered under your breath before turning back to him. “Yeah, well, I learned my lesson. He was my first long term boyfriend, of course I let too much shit slide. But I won’ make that mistake twice.”

“Really? First boyfriend, huh?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Yer too pretty to just now have yer first boyfriend, sweet thing.” He winked at you before taking a sip of his drink, leaving you blushing up at him like some flustered schoolgirl.

“Quit that!” You smacked his arm playfully, knowing full well your face was red as a tomato. “I can’t imagine YOU’VE had many girlfriends yourself, tough guy.”

“And why’s that?”

“I don’ know, you don’ seem the type to like bein’ tied down is all.” You shrugged, tapping your nail on your glass.

“Yer right about that, I guess.” He sighed. “You got me, doll, I ain’t got much datin’ experience neither.”

“Oh? What about…experience with other relations?” You asked, a little more bold with some alcohol in your system.

“Whatcha mean by that, doll face?” Striker smiled back at you, both of you subconsciously leaning towards the other as you flirted.

You were about to answer, but man walked up to the both of you, knocking your drinks aside and the sticky liquid splashing all over you.

“Hey, watch it you-“ You were about to scold the person until you saw who it was. “You.”

“Yer gonna bitch at me bout cheatin while yer hangin off the arm of some random dick head?!” Your ex boyfriend yelled in your face drunkenly.

“Hey, back off her, dick head!” Striker shoved him off of you.

“Who the fuck are you anyways?” Your ex asked him, trying to puff out his chest and stand taller.

“Don’ matter, that ain’t how ya talk to her, sleaze bag.” Striker growled down at the man.

“Oh, so yer gonna hide behind this asshole, huh Y/N? I thought you were ‘sposed at be tough! You just gonna bend over fer him too?”

Your anger finally boiled over, and you pushed Striker aside to face your ex yourself. You decked him in the face so hard he fell backwards onto his ass, knocking over some other peoples table and getting food and drinks spilled all over himself. You glowered down at him, wanting to beat the shit out of him, but Striker snatched you up and dragged you out of the bar before you got into too much trouble. You yelled at Striker to let you go, squirming against his hold on you.

“Calm down, missy, before ya hurt yourself.” Striker said, only setting you down and letting go when you calmed down. You tried to rush past him back into the bar, but he was prepared and stopped you again.

“Let me kill him! Just a little!” You huffed as he drug you further away from the bar entrance.

“Not tonight, darlin’. Maybe another day, huh?” He suggested, letting you go again once you were drug out to the parking lot. You crossed your arms and pouted, needing to let your rage out somehow. Suddenly in your chaotic mind, a single thought stood out to you.

“His car.” You mumbled, looking around the parking lot.

“What’s goin on in that pretty lil head of yers?” Striker asked as he followed you, your eyes scanning the cars.

“His stupid fuckin’ car. He always loved that thing more than me.” You explained, smiling devilishly when you finally saw it. You went up to the souped-up sports car. “He spent more money on it than anything, its customized with some expensive ass shit.”

Striker grinned when he realized what you wanted to do. He even pulled a knife out of his belt and handed it to you, looking around for something else to use on the car. In a trash bin he saw a metal rod sticking put of it, so he grabbed it and watched you circle the nice car like a shark with its prey. The screech of metal on metal signaled you were digging the knife into he custom paint job, carving your name into it proudly. You got down and slashed his tires, stabbing them and watching them deflate before going to the other side of the car to give it the same treatment. Striker watched proudly as you destroyed this mans car, smirking and joining you not long after by smashing the windows in with the metal rod. You laughed when he joined in, stabbing the side of the car more and prying it open to give you access to the inside. You slashed his nice leather seats, tearing them to shreds and till the stuffing was falling out and flying in the air. You got out of the car and grabbed the metal rod from Striker, beginning to beat the shit out of this car, pretending it was your ex himself.

“Alright, alright, we gotta get outta here!” Striker said after letting you have your fun for awhile, but when some customers began to leave the bar, he knew it was time to go. You dropped the rod and took his hand, running off to the horses and getting on Bombproof while Striker untied him from the fence. You heard screaming in the distance, cackling when you realized it was your exes high pitched shrieks as he saw what had happened to his car.

“Come on, come on!” You laughed as Striker got on his horse, galloping away into the night. You listened to the screeches and screams of your ex with a smile on your face, reveling in the moment.

“He’s gon be so pissed when he sees your name on that thing!” Striker laughed loudly.

“So worth it!” You shouted back. “Thank you, Striker!”

“Not a problem, darlin’! You ready ta go home?” He asked as he slowed Bombproof down, far enough away from the bar you didn’t need to worry anymore.

“How abut we…” You smiled as your hands around his waist traveled further down his body. You felt hot and bothered after that adrenaline rush, and if you were being honest with yourself, you’ve been wanting to fuck this handsome cowboy for much longer than just tonight.

“One hotel room, comin’ up.” Striker smirked, before smacking his tail on Bombproof to make him run off. You held onto him as he raced the two of you to the nearest motel, tying Bombproof up at another fence before taking your hand and leading you to the front desk. Once the clerk handed him the room key, the two of you rushed up to the room together.

As soon as the door was opened, you turned Striker around to finally kiss him. He tasted of his drink and cigarettes, his lips rough but skilled as he kissed you back. He tapped on your thigh and you jumped up, wrapping your legs around him as he held you up, squeezing your ass through your jeans as he kicked the door shut behind him. He walked up to the bed, bending over to set you down as his lips never once left yours. You felt his bulge through his own jeans, his hips humping into your own, causing you to moan. He took the opportunity to stick his snake like tongue into your mouth, clawing at you as you pushed his jacket off his shoulders. He stood up to begin stripping, smiling as you watched himself shed his clothes intently.

“Been wantin’ to do this fer a long time, pretty girl.” He purred, now completely shirtless and his hat tossed across the room onto a lamp. He bent over you again, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You lifted your arms for him to take your shirt off and toss it over his shoulder, before his hands went under you to unclasp your bra. He lowly whistled when he saw your bare breasts, a hand squeezing one and playing with it while his mouth made its way to your neck, attaching to it with his teeth, leaving a bite mark before sucking a hickey into it. You moaned and arched your back, your chest pressing further into his hands as they both now groped your soft breasts, his breath heavy as he felt your body and marked you up with his mouth.

“Striker…” You moaned quietly, your own hands clawing at his back, leaving your own marks as well.

“We’re not at the farm, darlin’. We ain’t never gon see any of these people here, so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar~” He groaned as your hips started to grind into his.

“Then hurry up and make me scream~” You moaned, biting your lip as he stood back up, kicking his boots off before taking yours off, tossing them near the door.

He pulled at your jeans, and you lifted your hips off the bed so he could take them off of you. He then took his own jeans off, his bulge much more prominent now through the thin fabric of his boxers. You sat up on the bed and nearly drooled as you stared at his crotch, imagining what he looked like underneath those boxers. You looked up at him with doe eyes as you slid off the bed onto your knees, two fingers hooking under the waistband, looking up for a nod of approval before you slipped his boxers off of him, his hard-on slapping against his abdomen once set free.

“Fuck, Striker…” You drooled over him, licking your lips before kissing the tip of his cock. He groaned at your action, a hand instinctively tangling into your hair, pushing you closer to him. You obediently opened your mouth, letting him shove his cock into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You gagged a bit at the contact, but slowly got used to it as your throat began to relax.

“Good girl…” Striker panted, his nails scraping your scalp, making you moan around his length. You slowly started to bob your head up and down his shaft, your tongue licking up and down the underside of his cock. Striker hissed as you sucked him off so good, hips bucking into your face as his grip on your hair tightened. “Fuck, Y/N! You must’ve never given that dipshit head, he never woulda cheated if you did!”

The reminder of your ex only made you more determined to make Striker cum down your throat. You wanted every thought of that loser to be replaced with Striker, every memory of sex to be with Striker instead of him. You began to bob your head faster and suck harder, Striker nearly stumbling over when you did that, holding onto the bed behind you for support as his eyes squeezed shut at your actions. He soon came down your throat, his hand holding you in place so that your nose was pressed up against his abs so not a drop spilled from your mouth. Once he came down from his high he let you go and backed up to give you room to stand, catching his breath as you sat back up on the bed in front of him.

“Shit, baby.” Was all he could say as he panted, more turned on now than ever as you batted your pretty eyes up at him. “Lay on back now, it’s time I returned the favor~”

You smiled sheepishly before lying back on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched Striker kneel down in front of you, his own fingers slipping under the waistband of your panties. You lifted your hips for him once again to allow him to slip them off, a sexy grin adorning his face as he grabbed your thighs and propped them on either of his shoulders.

“Fuck me…” He muttered, kissing up your thighs and his eyes never leaving your glistening pussy. “Baby doll, you really are Satan’s favorite, huh?”

You didn’t have the chance to answer him, his tongue flicking over your clit stopping you. You whimpered at the feeling, it had been so long since you had received head from someone, and you knew his long tongue would hit the right spots. You moaned as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking softly but enough to have your head tossing back and our back arching off the bed. You whined out his name as you gripped at the sheets below you, his tongue flicking across your folds before delving into your hole. One of his hands let go of your thigh so his fingers could rub your clit in slow but firm circles, his tongue working inside of you. You squirmed on the bed but his other hand held you firmly, one of your own hands flying to grab one of his horns, pushing him further into your cunt. He let out a muffled moan of surprise, but didn’t argue as he continued to eat you out like a starved man, the hand on your thigh digging its claws into your soft flesh. You ground your hips into Strikers face, feeling yourself reaching the edge. You moaned out a warning to him, and he moaned into your cunt as his fingers rubbed your clit faster and his tongue went impossibly deeper inside of you. You let out a high pitched squeak at the feeling, loudly moaning out Strikers name as you quickly toppled over the edge, your hips and legs shaking and spasming from how intense your orgasm was. Once you settled down and Striker licked you clean, he finally stood back up and caged you between his arms, grinning down at you as you caught your breath.

“Fuck, cowboy…” You breathed out before leaning up to kiss him, moaning at the taste of yourself on his mouth.

“I got some more surprises fer ya, darlin’. You wanna do this ass up or not?” He asked. You answered him by crawling up further onto the bed, bending over for him. He grinned as he pumped his cock, crawling up to you and pressing his chest to your back, kissing the base of your neck to make you shiver as you hugged a pillow, preparing yourself for that addicting stretch you hadn’t felt in so long. “Ready?”

You nodded desperately, Strikers body pressing against yours left your skin burning for more of him. You moved a hand to reach for his, and he chuckled but intertwined his fingers with yours, before aligning himself and beginning to push into you. You squeezed his hand and moaned as his cock began to stretch you open, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut as you buried your face into the pillow below you. Striker kissed you on your bare shoulder as his thumb rubbed the back of your hand comfortingly, he own eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of your pussy fluttering around his cock. Once he was bottomed out, he awaited for you to tell him he could start moving. Your hips started to move against his, and he took it as a sign to keep going. He slowly pulled out halfway before snapping his hips back into you, smiling at the little squeak you let out at the action. He started moving his hips faster and faster, the hand holding yours being nearly crushed as you held onto it. You moaned lewdly as his cock hit that perfect spot inside of you, whining and beginning to shake as you felt yourself approaching an orgasm again already. Striker chuckled as he felt your cunt squeeze him and your breathing becoming erratic as you neared your high.

“Don’ be embarrassed, sweet thing, cum for me~” He whispered into your ear encouragingly, freeing his hand from your grip to pinch and rub at your clit, a choked moan escaping your lips as you immediately came around his cock, Striker groaning at how you squeezed around him so tightly.

“S-Striker!” You nearly screamed as your body shook violently beneath him.

“That’s right, Y/N, scream my name~” He panted as he felt himself nearing his second orgasm of the night. He continued to pound into you, screams escaping you as your sensitive pussy was being overstimulated. He pulled out briefly to flip you over onto your back, desperate to see your face. He shoved his cock back into you, your breasts bouncing at the force he used to fuck you into the mattress. You began to babble incoherently as your eyes crossed and rolled back, Striker smiling smugly at how you unraveled around him.

“I-I’m almost there, Y/N.” He warned you, your legs clamping around him now allowing him to pull out.

“C-Cum in me!” You whimpered, feeling yet another orgasm coming on.

“You sure?”

“Just do it!” You screamed, your claws digging into his back to keep him in place.

His hips shot into yours as he came, groaning and panting as you also came with him, your juices squirting all over his dick as you both clutched onto the other desperately. Once you both came down from your highs, Striker collapsed on top of you, both of you trying to catch your breaths as your grips loosened on the other. After a few minutes, Striker stumbled out of bed and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wiping both of you down and tossing it onto the floor before getting back into the bed with you. He pulled you close, noticing your thighs still twitching from the intense squirting orgasm you had.

“Nobody’s…ever made me…d-do that…” You panted, tilting your head to face him, but not having the strength to move your body yet.

“Well…glad to be a stand out.” He chuckled as he looked at you with half lidded eyes.

“Striker…” You swallowed harshly. “I…”

“Save it for the mornin, doll.” He interrupted you, pulling you close to him and shutting his eyes. You nodded dumbly, not having the thoughts or energy to argue with him. Plus, this was nice, just being held by him so intimately, singing and letting morning you figure out your relationship with the man. For now, you just curled into his touch and buried your face into his chest.

#helluva boss striker #striker x reader #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader

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bad268 · 9 months ago

Note

hooray! maybe you could do about their acl injury recovery journey together, or them winning a trophy (in their respective leagues) and celebrating together, or fans finding out about their relationships + their reactions. those are just a few ideas x

Snapshots (Pablo Gavi X Barca! Reader)

Every Step of the Way universe

Fandom: RPF/FCB

Requested: Clearly (AHHH I LOVE THEM I LOVE THIS)

Warnings: None

POV: Third Person (She/her)

W.C. 1662

Summary: Snapshots of Gavi and Y/n's recovery

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~ (^Pinterest)

Recovery

Recovery is a strange thing. Half of the time they spent thinking they would never be able to step on the pitch again. Other times were spent thinking they were SO ready to get back to playing. Usually, it would alternate days as if the universe was saying, “Hey you’re doing great!” and then immediately switching sides.

Her recovery was different from Gavi’s entirely. The tear on her ACL was substantially more serious than his. The fact that her injury occurred a month prior did help in her favor because they were almost on the same healing schedule at that point. They took their first steps together, walked onto the grass together, and were cleared to play within days of each other.

Most of their days were spent in the same cycle. Rehab and not fucking up their legs any more than they already did. There was one day when they both thought it would be okay to gently kick a ball back and forth while sitting. However, neither midfielder remembered how competitive the other was.

“That was so close!” She shouted as she moved around in her chair after the futbol hit the leg of the chair before rolling to the side. “I was this close!”

“How could you miss that?” Gavi teased as he stretched his good leg to get the ball back in front of him. “I wasn’t even watching.”

“Oh shut it,” She seethed in joking rage as he kicked the ball with a little too much speed. She could not help it. Instincts kicked in, and she immediately used her injured leg to kick it away. Just as quickly, she regretted it. She clutched her leg as she let out a curse, “Shit!”

In response, Gavi moved to help her and consequently learned just how much pain she was in as he put pressure on his leg. That was when they both knew it would be a difficult recovery.

First Steps

Their first steps were taken together. Sure, they did not look pretty, but they were together. They stood side by side holding hands until Gavi’s knee gave away, causing both of them to crash down. Neither was injured further, but it made for a funny story afterward.

The first time they were both able to make their first steps was a different story. As a joke, Y/n sat at the end of the bars that Gavi was walking between and semi-holding himself up on.

“This reminds me of when I was helping my sister teach my nephew to walk,” She joked as Gavi took cautious steps toward her.

“Did you just compare me to a toddler?” Gavi snapped back in disbelief. “I’d like to see you try it! It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“I’ll gladly show you up,” She laughed, standing up and swapping places with him with the help of their physical therapist. “Watch and learn, baby.”

Her first steps did not look perfect by any means, but they were first steps without the bars holding her up. They looked better than Gavi’s attempts, and that was all that she cared about.

“This shit is easy peasy, pumpkin peasy, pumpkin pie, motherfucker!” She laughed as she flopped down onto the chair as soon as Gavi stood up to try again. “Beat that.”

“What was that? Three steps?” Gavi teased as he briefly kissed her lips before turning around and walking four steps away from her without the bar. Then, he turned around and smirked at her, “I think I beat your record.”

First Game Back

It was the same situation for the two of them Their teams wanted them to sideline them for an extra few matches as a precaution. The two midfielders had some objections, but ultimately, it was probably for the best.

The first game back for Y/n was in Barcelona. She did not make any sort of announcement about her return to the green. She just let the journalists pick up on her walking into the stadium and let it all go out naturally. Her socials began flooding with mentions and support as soon as the pictures dropped.

It felt good to be back with her team. Sure, they all hung out outside of the game, but it was just a different feeling being on the grass with them.

Neither of the midfielders were playing. They were to sit on the bench and be cheerleaders basically. It was funny. Not something either player wanted, but it was the closest they could get to being on the field and playing.

Plus, they got to cheer on their friends. What’s not to love about supporting their friends? There was also a multitude of videos and edits of them doing the same things from their respective games. Some fans put the two clips side-by-side to show the similarities.

One in particular was when Pedir and Y/n’s closest friend scored a goal in their games, and both Gavi and Y/n jumped up to congratulate them. However, they both jumped on their legs wrong and sent a jolt up their leg. Like clockwork, both players immediately felt the effects, and slowly sat back down.

First Goal

For the first few games back, both teams were afraid to pass the ball to Gavi and Y/n. It was not because they thought they were not ready. They were just scared the two would get injured once again. Every member of the team saw the flashbacks of their valued midfielders, and they would always hesitate to pass the ball their way.

That is, until the semi-finals. Both teams made it, and they were fighting their own battles. Yn’s team was about to draw. Both teams had been incredibly competitive, and neither team was able to get a goal in. Y/n knew they could not end in a draw. If they did, their team was sure as out of the cup.

Y/n decided to do a semi-risky move and took off down the field. She ran away from the opponents just as one of her teammates gained control of the ball. Y/n was the only one open, so the team held their breath as the ball was passed to her. Just like before her injury, she took off with the ball and got it into the net without anyone catching her.

Y/n did not even realize the time had run out as her teammates swarmed her and the fans stormed the field. Her goal secured their spot in the finals. It was not until Gavi grabbed her and lifted her off the ground that she noticed everyone around her. That goal went down in history.

Gavi’s first goal, on the other hand, had a slightly funnier take. It was not like his team did not have faith in him. He was nervous to screw up. He was throwing every single one of his practice shots, and the team was starting to get worried. They needed him in this game, and if this was how he was performing, they were screwed. Gavi ended up getting pulled aside by Pedri who tried his best to give Gavi a pep talk, but it was interrupted by the start of the game.

Once he stepped foot on the turf, it was like all of his insecurities vanished. He started off strong and finished off strong with one goal and one assist. That was all he needed to get out of the slump and back into the right headspace for his team.

Not to mention, he and Y/n celebrated after their respective games back.

Back to the Grind

During the off-season, the two did not stop training. Obviously, coming off of a possible career-ending injury, they both wanted to be in peak physical condition for the start of the season. They did, however, take a small getaway right after their last matches. Fans and teammates thought of it as a celebration of the end of a good season since many of the other players also took a holiday during the same time.

Many of their teammates went to parties together, some went to see their families, and some went to just go somewhere. Gavi and Y/n, though, went alone to a remote beach. They may or may not have rented out the whole resort of villas, so they would have the privacy to just relax without the eye of the public on them. After having a very public injury and recovery, this was something they knew they needed to get back into the mindset for the incoming season.

And maybe a certain someone had something up his sleeve. Maybe something to do with how to thank a certain someone.

When they showed up at the stadium for the first time since the season ended, everyone was excited to see them. Mainly because they were off the grid for the good majority of the break, but also because a certain eagle-eyed friend spotted something shiny on their fingers. Specifically, their left ring fingers.

“Did he finally man up and propose?” Pedri teased as he pushed himself between his two friends. “He’s only been talking about it for the last - how many years?”

“Years?!” Y/n gasped, leaning forward to look at Gavi. “You’ve been planning this for years, and you waited for us both to be injured to do it?”

“I was going to do it on our anniversary, but I couldn’t really get down on my knee now could I?” Gavi replied sarcastically as he backed up, pulling Y/n with him, so Pedri was no longer between them. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his as he left featherlight kisses around her face, disregarding the sound of their combined teams. He finished off by placing one on her lips after whispering, “I’m just glad I get to have you by my side through thick and thin.”

~~~~~

#pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi #gavi x you #gavi imagine #fc barcelona #fc barcelona x reader #fc barça #fc barca #fcb #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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netherfeildren · 2 years ago

Text

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .2

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Art is Body, the Texture, Seung Ah Paik, (2008-2009)

Word Count: 4.8K

Read on AO3

I mean maybe I was holding all of the aces, but what was the game?

Joan Didion, Play It As It Lays

Gerri’s sister, Andrea, makes a wonderful dinner that night, linguine with mussels in a white wine sauce, a tossed salad, and several bottles of a lovely and crisp Pinot Grigio. By all accounts, it should have been a perfect evening. Friends and family in a beautiful setting. The day had been warm and lazy and seemingly perfect on the surface, but the underlying vein of tension was inescapable and un-ignorable. A huge drama had unfolded when you’d come back inside the house from the dock earlier. Eva was up in arms that Joel hadn’t brought you in immediately after the sting, said that he had no business tending to you when you were hurt and there was a doctor present. She’d even gone as far as to suggest that perhaps, if you felt too unwell, you should head back to the city, for a fucking wasp sting. Gerri had stepped in at that, said that it had been her sister who’d rented the house, and thus, was the only one who had the right to suggest when anyone should or should not leave. A screaming match had ensued. No one had really stopped to listen when you’d said that you really were fine.

The seven of you now sit quiet and awkward at the dinner table out on the deck facing the dark and serene lake. A gorgeous setting with a terribly dark cloud hanging over all of your heads. The conversation is stilted and forced and there is a palpably bitter ball of tension being tossed back and forth between Joel and Eva. Sharply spit whispers and murmurs under their breaths as they sit across from you. She keeps rolling her eyes and clicking her tongue at him every time he tries to join the conversation Gerri’s been fighting tooth and nail to keep going.

Ger’s best friend, who was supposed to have joined the weekend so that you’d not be the seventh wheel, had canceled last minute, and so you now sit at the the far end of the table across from the happy couple, trying your best to drown your awkwardness and the memory of Joel’s mouth on your skin in as much wine as you can guzzle as quickly as you possibly can. Light-weight or not, these are dire circumstances, it calls for desperate measures.

The tension between Gerri and Eva wasn’t much better, and by extension between her sister. The three of them reminded you of the angry wasp from earlier, waiting to see who’d strike first. Everything about this was filling you with a type of anxious fizz that has the nape of your neck breaking out into a cold sweat and the backs of your knees itching. You want to run to your room, get all your shit, and run away from this place and these people as quickly as you can.

And then fucking Joel. Part of you wants to kick him on the shin under the table as hard as you can. What was his problem, helping you like that, touching you like that, calling you sweetheart, putting his goddamn mouth on you? Fanning the flames of this terrible, horrible, life ruining crush you’re developing on him? Perhaps this is the wine talking, but it feels like he’s slowly consuming your mind like wildfire. The feel of his hot, wet mouth, the slide of his tongue over the sensitive center of your palm, it’s all you can think about. You can’t stop picturing what it might feel like between your legs, over the tips of your breasts. He’d said he’d be gentle, but you have the uncontainable thought that that’s the last thing you want him to be with you.

You really hate yourself. This has to be classified as some flavor of masochism or something, you sitting across from him and his wife as they have a covert fight, all while you’re imagining what it’d be like for him to lick your pussy.

Yes, definitely a masochist.

He hasn’t uttered a single word in the past half hour or so, but you’ve been watching him out of the corner of your eye. You’re trying to be discreet, but you’re pretty sure you’re failing, and you can feel the bright, hot flush of the wine broadcasting itself on the surface of your cheeks like a blaring sign. He looks so good. His hair is wet from the shower, slicked back, and he has a slightly red flush from the sun today across his cheeks and the bridge of his strong nose. And he’s so broad, the sleeves of his button down straining with the thickness of his biceps. Your mouth feels parched, like there’s fire crawling up your throat, writhing within the confines of your arteries, licking up the notches of your vertebrae.

You should go home. You should get away from these people. This was a mistake. And yet you do not. You remain, for some inexplicable reason. Masochist, masochist, masochist. A girl who likes things that aren’t good for her, that will only hurt her.

You can’t help but think there’s something strange in the way that the two of them circle each other, in the way they exist around each other. Like two opposing magnets – connected by something, some sort of sameness, but constantly repelling each other, at the same time. You can’t say, quite precisely, what it is, perhaps, the undercurrent of hostility they move around each other with, as if at any moment someone’ll swipe out with sharpened claws, go for the jugular, but also, almost slowly, lagging, as if they are very tired of fighting such an interminable fight. You recognize something in them, and it isn’t until this moment, with you sitting across from them on the universally familiar battleground that is a family dinner table, that you’re able to realize what it is – a marriage filled with nothing but unhappiness and resentment.

They remind you, very much, of your own parents.

With age, you now thought that whenever people spoke of love, they were rarely ever speaking of real love. Most of the time it was a shroud for power or fixation or loss. Life has taught you this, your parents have taught you this. In many ways, you are now teaching yourself this. After all, all of these things most usually serve as the true center of what a romantic relationship posed as. Maybe. Or maybe you’re wrong. Too jaded – too gnarled. But when you look at these two people sitting before you, when all you can see in them is the bitter, ghostly reflection of your own parents, all it does is reinforce that idea.

Joel’s eyes are a little blank, as if his mind is very far away from here, as Eva goes on about her new project at work, but you watch that little, fluttering muscle in his jaw from earlier make its frustrated return. If he grinds his teeth any harder you’re worried he’ll crack them. Gerri and Tommy have been having some sort of silent conversation for the past few minutes, she kind of looks like she’s beating him up with her eyes, screaming at him to do something to make this dinner even the slightest bit more bearable. His jokes are terrible and keep falling flat which you find quite funny, even though no one else seems to. Andrea’s girlfriend got up to go to get another bottle of wine like twenty minutes ago and never came back.

Joel has his left hand resting on the table beside his plate, the other hidden below the edge. His fingers are long and thick, the nails trimmed neatly. He keeps stretching his hand open, and rotating his wrist to the side, back and forth, as if he’s stretching the muscles in his forearm out. His ring finger and thumb come together intermittently to meet and he rubs them together slowly, slowly. You sit across from him, chin cupped in your palm and watch the slow caress of those two fingers, eyes slightly glazed. Your legs beneath the table are crossed at the knee, thighs pressed together as tightly as you can.

Eva’s been going on for the past half hour about someone on her team who, she claims, is the best insurance agent she’s ever met in her entire career. Impressive. You think you must scoff or make some sort of unconscious sound, lost in your daze staring at his hand, because she turns to you suddenly, abandoning her tirade to bestow her critical eye on you. Your knee jerks beneath the table, bumping against the underside and rattling the dinnerware on the surface. You feel the wine flush deepen at her inspection. You hadn’t really contributed much to the conversation throughout the evening, feeling too out of place and anxious to think of something interesting to say, too distracted by the sight of him.

“You know,” she starts – her voice has a deceptively guileless lilt to it that you think people must find incredibly charming when the look in her eyes isn’t calling for blood. “You’re a little quiet. Don’t have much to contribute, do you?” she purrs.

You clear your throat once, twice, you hear Joel spit her name under his breath, and Gerri says something from the end of the table, but a white, rushing noise is filling your ears suddenly. She sounds very familiar. You clear your throat again, “I was just really enjoying hearing all about what it’s like to sell insurance,” you tell her. “I didn’t want to interrupt.” You hear Gerri snort loudly from the other end of the table. Sometimes you could have a backbone, if you tried very, very hard.

She hums, arches a thin eyebrow at you. “Gerri says you’re single. That you’ve been unattached for quite some time.” You hear Gerri try to interject again, but Eva cuts her off, continues her set down. “Maybe that’s why you still haven’t found someone yet. No man wants a mouse, you know.” She clicks her tongue and it makes you flinch. You can’t look away from her, it’s like you’re sitting across from a ghost. Even the cadence of her voice reminds you of your mother. When you grow up with an angry parent in your house, there will always be an angry parent in your house, and you are acutely reminded of that in this moment.“Some people might think you’re boring if you’re not careful. Don’t you agree, Joel?” She turns to him, wide grin stretched across her face, and you feel your eyes burn, backbone obliterated, back at your parent’s dinner table.

“No, I don’t agree,” he says coldly. “That’s enough, Eva.” She ignores him.

She cocks her head at you, “Could be somethin’ to work on,” she says sweetly.

“Joel, think it’s time for you two to say good night, don’t you?” Tommy says from the end of the table.

You try to say that it’s alright, but you think you might’ve accidentally swallowed your tongue in your plight to find your voice. Joel stands suddenly, his chair jostling violently with the abruptness of his movements and clasps her around the elbow, pulling her up with him. “Yeah, we’ll say good night now, everyone.” She goes along with him, laughing loudly.

“Goodnight,” she sing-songs, as he drags her down the hallway.

That little girl you’d used to be, the one who always needed to make herself lovable, amenable, good, surges up sharp and vicious inside of you at her words, at the uncomfortable look of embarrassment in Joel’s eyes. He couldn’t even look at you, his eyes trained uncomfortably on his plate. All the care and generosity in his gaze from the afternoon cast away in the face of his wife cutting you down and your inability to defend yourself, your pathetic meekness.

You turn to look out at the dark water, close your eyes and take deep breaths to ease the tightness in your throat. Gerri says your name softly. You swallow once, twice, clear your throat, swallowing the humiliation. You force a smile onto your face and turn back to her, roll your eyes, “It’s okay.” You try to huff a laugh.

“It wasn’t – I’m sorry about that,” Tommy says. He looks just as embarrassed as Joel. You want to leave so, so badly. Perhaps this need to always run is just another inheritance from your mother. Just one more terrible burden, in a long line of disappointing inherited traits, that she’s left you with.

“Tommy, really—”

“No,” he says sharply, letting his fork clatter onto his plate. Gerri says his name softly, you see her put her hand over his clenched fist on the table. “They’re unhappy. She’s unhappy — so she tries to cast the net of her misery around the rest of us – trap us in it with her. Make us all as uncomfortable and as miserable as she is.”

“I know — I can see that. That’s why I’m saying, it’s okay. I understand.”

But you don’t think he hears you, he goes on, “And she’s got my brother trapped there with her.” He looks at Gerri now and you can see all the worry and anguish he carries for Joel in his gaze, a little helpless. “I don’t – I don’t really know how to help him anymore.”

“Baby, it isn’t on you,” Gerri tells him gently. “All you can do is be there for him.”

Tommy turns back to look at you, and for a moment, the helplessness seems to have turned to contemplation, for some reason, as he tells you, “I just want him to be happy.”

Joel lays in bed hours later, arm propped under his head, unable to sleep. Eva’s in the room next door with Sarah. They’d slept in separate rooms since the start of their marriage. Neither of them had ever considered the alternative, and he’s especially grateful for that right now. He has the window cracked open, and the cool breeze is soothing on his overly hot skin. His cock is hard and throbbing under his boxers, and he wants nothing more than to call your face to his mind and fuck his palm right now, but he knows he shouldn’t. That if he does it once, he’ll never be able to stop again, will use your face to fuel his fantasies forever afterwards. He can’t stoop that low. He’s not that desperate. Not yet, at least.

And he’s angry right now too. So fucking frustrated at his wife and her attitude and the things she’d said to you at dinner. And most of all, frustrated at himself. Frustrated at the fact that he hadn’t said something more to defend you, that he hadn’t prevented that terrible look of shock and hurt from crossing your face. He should’ve stepped in sooner, said something more, stood up for you. He could tell that it was difficult for you. But he’d been a little taken aback at Eva’s words, at the venom in her tone. He knows she doesn’t have any sort of real problem with you, specifically. He can see through the shroud of bitterness to the heart of the issue at hand which is nothing more than what it always is, that she’s reaching the end of her line – been too stagnant for too long, stuck around with him and Sarah for too long. She’s unhappy and she wants to leave and she’s lashing out because of it.

He knows she just needs time to come to that on her own, to gather the resolve to abandon her daughter and finally leave the way she wants to. He also knows that this will be the last time. That after this, after she leaves this time, she’ll be done with them for good, but also, that he can’t let her continue this. He needs to set a boundary for himself, but more importantly, for Sarah. She cannot watch her mother come in and out of her life, whenever she pleases, forever. There needs to be some sort of structure to their life, to their relationship, it’s his responsibility to make sure she has that.

So, for now, until Eva comes to this decision on her own, he’ll put up with her venom and her attitude and her lashing out at him, but at him, not at you or anyone else. You don’t deserve for the misery of his life to spill over onto you. You don’t deserve that, you’re too good for that. Too good for him.

He’s also really fucking frustrated that his cock is hard right now. That he’s such an idiot that the confirmation that you’re single had filled him with an inappropriate amount of relief and satisfaction, that if he isn’t careful and conscious of his thoughts and his body and his proximity to you at all times, he’s almost always verging on being halfway to hard in your presence. Like some horny, desperate, perverted old man. But he can’t help himself. You’re just too pretty. And now that he knows how soft you are, that he’s held your small hand in his, that he’s gotten close enough to be able to smell that subtly sweet scent that envelops you at all times, well, he’s practically a lost cause. Putting his mouth on you today, tasting the salt of your skin, fucking Christ, he shouldn’t have done that. He can never do it again, should never get that close again. It would be, he thinks, extremely easy to lose control of himself with you.

But he also thinks, despite this very aware notion he has that he should keep his distance, that he wants to find any excuse, any at all, to be close, to get closer to you. Maybe he should go apologize. Maybe he should go and say something about tonight, tell you how sorry he is for his wife’s words, for his lack of thought to speak up for you in the moment, to ask you how your hand is, if you’re in pain, if you need anything. Yes, he thinks, he most definitely should do that. It would be the right thing, the polite thing. It’s almost necessary, he finds.

This was a mistake. He knows he shouldn’t be here, he knows this is a bad idea. Dangerous in a way crafted specifically by himself to hone in on his own weaknesses, strike where he’s most vulnerable. Fucking self sabotage and self flaggelation, all at the same time. He lifts his fist to knock quietly anyways. Fuck what he should do, what about what he wants?

You take a long moment to answer, he can hear your shuffling and movement through the door. You were probably in bed, maybe you were asleep already, maybe he’ll get to see that soft, intimate look of sleep in your eyes. Maybe he’ll be so lucky.

“Joel – is everything okay?” Your voice is cracked and gravelly, and you try to inconspicuously wipe away the stickiness of your slick on your hand on the back of your sleep shorts, wind the long sleeves of your soft sweater over your fingers to hide the evidence of the fact that you’d just had three of your fingers stuffed to the knuckle inside your wet cunt, trying to make yourself come at the thought of him. What the hell is he doing here right now?

You plan to never see him again after this weekend, you’ve decided. You’ll tell Gerri you can’t be friends anymore, if need be, as much as it’ll devastate you. This is too risky, you feel at risk in his presence. There is something, some terrible sense of dread you’re filled with, a fight or flight instinct, the sense of prey right before it’s taken out by a larger, stronger predator, but some sort of instinct is telling you something very bad will happen to you if you stay anywhere near this man. That he’ll make you feel things you’ve never before felt in your entire life.

“How’s the hand?”

You almost choke. “Wh– what?”

“The sting?”

“Oh–” you’re trying to control your breathing, the stuttering of your heart from the interrupted orgasm, paired with his presence here right now has you close to hyperventilating, “Oh, it’s fine – thank you.” Your cunt is tight and throbbing painfully.

“Doesn’t hurt anymore?”

“No,” you lie.

He shakes his head a little, gives you the gentle curve of his crooked smile, “Don’t gotta lie, sweetheart.” Your heart drops at how easily he sees through you, has your throat tightening into a knot. The reprimand at the pet name catches in your throat. After the humiliation at dinner, the tears you’d shed in the shower, the feeling of being too emotional, overly sensitive, of not being able to just brush off someone’s offhandedly cruel words, your inability, even after all these years, to develop thicker skin – it’s hard to cast away the slight comfort. Even if you know it’s wrong.

“Your wife?” You need to remind the both of you about her, in this moment. It feels very precarious, set on the edge of a cliff, for some reason. Perhaps because of how soft his old t-shirt looks, his low, gravely voice and messy curls, the late hour – the fact that all you’re wearing is an oversized sweater and sleep shorts and that your cunt is wet and swollen.

“Asleep with Sarah.”

“Oh, she’s–” you cut yourself off abruptly, none of your business.

“We don’t uh –” he stutters, a blush creeping into his cheeks, “We don’t st– stay together.” He blinks rapidly, looking down at his feet. The fringe of his lashes is long and thick.

“Oh… okay–” you can’t think what it is you’re supposed to say to that, but you’re filled with a terrible sense of premonitory dread. He’s trying to establish something now, between the two of you, you think, explain something to you about the dynamic unfolding here and the one between himself and his wife.

“I wanted to apologize – again.” He looks back up at you now. “I’m sorry for dinner. We were incredibly rude to you.”

“You weren’t rude. You didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly. I should have said something more. I’m sorry for that.”

“That’s not what I meant. You– you don’t need to defend me from your wife. That – that isn’t–” That isn’t right, you want to say, but the words fail you.

“Maybe so – but I should’a done it anyway. She was out of line, and I’m apologizing for it now.”

“Okay–” He looks away then, peers down the dark, quiet hall. Fuck, he mutters under his breath. This feels wrong. You wonder if your mother ever felt this anxious heaviness inside of her right before she did something she knew she wasn’t supposed to.

“We– we don’t have a conventional marriage,” he says then, spills the words in a rushed tumble. His embarrassed blush flares brighter, and you squeeze your eyes shut, hold on to the door’s edge for support, like he knows, perhaps, that he shouldn’t be going here with you but feels the need to tell you this anyways.

You blink rapidly, the dread in your gut churns violently. You shouldn’t be hearing this right now. The two of you shouldn’t be standing here at the door of your bedroom in your pajamas having this late night, hushed conversation. You tighten your grip on the door.

“I – I don’t follow.”

“It’s, well – I don’t –” a frustrated huff, “We’re not really… together.”

You scrunch your nose at him, “It’s – it’s open?”

He frowns, shakes his head confusedly, “What?”

“You have an open marriage – an agreement to see other people?”

He passes a palm over his mouth. “Oh – I – I guess, yes. That’s – well, she does. But it wasn’t an agreement or anything.”

This is what Gerri had alluded to, you realize. “She cheats on you?” Too harsh, but you need to be clear now, on what it is he’s trying to make you understand. Although you’re not sure why, why you feel you need this clarity. You’re treading extremely dangerous water here, surrounded by the violent sharks of your history.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it that either. I don’t–” he laughs bitterly, “I don’t feel cheated. That’s not what it is. We don’t have a close marriage or… I guess a real one, I don’t– I don’t know what to call it – an intimate one, I suppose. We aren’t really together, in a true sense.”

“Why– why not?” Looking at him, you can’t imagine how anyone could ever not want to be close to a man like this.

He leans against the door frame, crosses his arms across his chest so his biceps bulge, and it brings him in slightly closer to you. Your mouth feels so dry, parched. “Different reasons, incompatibility. We never – we were never in love or anything. We got married for Sarah. It was complicated, I guess.” He frowns, “And then we just did it, and now this is how we are.” He shrugs.

“Okay…” you say slowly. You lean against the door now too, rest your head against the smooth grain, prop one foot on top of the other. If you shift your knee forward just a few inches you’d bump his leg. You want to ask him why he’s telling you this, to put him on the spot in a sense, but you know why. You know why he’s saying these things to you. There is, against all odds, against all rationality, logic, morals, fear, there is something here, between the two of you. You’re afraid, you carry your baggage on your shoulders like the weight of a mountain, like the weight of a lifetime of fear and abandonment and painful longing, but you aren’t stupid or blind. You know there’s something unspoken blooming here between the two of you, intentional or not.

“Okay,” he says back to you, equally slowly. His eyes shift between yours, the look in them, so soft and warm. Kind eyes, he has kind eyes. Honest eyes, despite what’s happening here now. Despite the fact that even though you know it should feel dishonest, it doesn’t, not really. “Just wanted to tell you that.”

“I understand,” you tell him, because you do. You do understand.

“And to apologize.”

“You already did that.”

The gentle curve of his smile, “Again, then.”

You can’t help but smile back, “Apology accepted.”

“And to check on that hand.”

You hold up your open palm for his inspection. “I think I’ll live.” And then he brings his own hand up, without your expecting it, and catches the thin of your wrist on either side by two thick fingers, gently brushes his thumb against the prominence of the bone at your joint. He nods his head tightly, jaw clenched once again, and then lets you go.

“You have to,” and you think he means it in jest, but he says it so seriously, the look in his eyes so direct, but also…sad, slightly sad or desperate or something you can’t fully identify, that causes the joke to fall flat, has the muscles in your throat tightening painfully.

“I’ll try.” You can’t tell what it is you’re promising to try to do. To live? To stay away from him? To let him come closer? Does it even matter? Is the act of trying wholly futile already? In some insane way, it feels like it is. As if what’s going to happen is already set in stone and nothing either of you do or don’t do will be able to change the course.

The thought terrifies you.

He’s quiet for another beat, the two of you just looking at each other. You wish you could press your front to his, feel his breath push into your belly with each one of his inhales, fit your nose to the space behind in his ear, where the scent of him is strongest, and breathe him in, memorize him. You think you’d like to know everything about him. What his favorite meal is, what books he likes to read, what his parents are like, what music he listens to, what his favorite thing to do with Sarah is.

None of that information is yours to have though, so all you’ll take from him now is his unnecessary apology.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

He nods once, pauses, twice, swallows. He doesn’t want to go. He’s telling you this with his silence and his lingering, but then he lets his eyes flutter shut and nods once more, slowly this time, and you watch another swallow pass through the strong column of his throat.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” You don’t correct him this time either.

Chapter .3

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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burnthoneydrops · 1 year ago

Text

Like I Always Do (s.o. x fem!reader)

pairing: sam obisanya x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: language (it's ted lasso), use of 'my girl'

a/n: ahh! first time writing for my favourite boy!! i hope y'all like this and don't mind the fact that i clearly know nothing about football, i'm trying my best!!

“Come on Sam!” You call from your place in the owner’s box, Keeley gripping your hand that wasn’t acting as a megaphone. There’s a few minutes left on the clock and both teams have yet to score a goal. The boys are weaving through each other on the pitch, trying desperately to dodge between the opposing players. It’s just started raining and you mutter a curse to the universe under your breath for England’s reliably shitty weather.

“Oh for God’s sake, we just need one goal!” Rebecca sighs from beside Keeley, readjusting the Richmond beanie that held down her hair. Zoreaux throws the ball from his spot on one end, and Sam’s quick to claim it, bouncing it off his knee before kicking it over to Danny. You’d be lying if you said you knew much about football, but from what you do know, this setup looks pretty damn good.

“Let’s go Richmond!” Higgins calls from behind you, and you can’t help but smile as this is the most high energy and carefree you’d ever seen this man.

“Babes, you’re gonna squeeze my hand off,” Keeley comments to you as you had turned your focus back to the game, quickly becoming very concerned with the state of it.

“Oh sorry,” you apologise, loosening your grip with the intention of letting go entirely, but Keeley weaves her fingers through yours, keeping your hand exactly where it is.

In quite an elegant move from Danny, he twists his body and kicks his leg over the other, shooting the ball straight to the goal. While you could hear the Richmond fans all collectively take a quick breath, it seems too good to be true. Your fears are unfortunately proven accurate as the opposing goalkeeper sweeps the ball away from the netted end, pushing it back onto the pitch with his gloved hands. The crowd splits into a round of sighs and cheers as they either celebrate or mourn the moment for their team.

“Fucking shit,” Rebecca curses, fidgeting with the bracelet adorning her left wrist. Isaac makes a call, shouting a combination of words that only makes sense to them and they get in a new formation. Jamie runs to basically lean against the opposing team’s players, no doubt muttering something to get in their heads as the boys get ready behind him. They’re soon off again and you’re eyeing Sam the entire time. He’d been so in his head before this that you knew he was stressing like crazy right now. The game is tense and you know he’s trying his hardest, but that self doubt does unfortunate wonders on someone’s self esteem.

“You’ve got it Sam!” You cheer again, and this time he hears you, looking up at the owner’s box, giving you a warm but small smile and a thumbs up.

“You’re not biassed at all, are you?” Keeley teases as she looks between you and Sam.

“And what if I am? You’re the same way for Mister ‘he’s here, he’s there, he’s every-fucking-where’ Roy Kent,” You shrug with a squeeze to her hand.

“Never said it was a bad thing babe,” Keeley replies, shaking her head.

The crowd starts cheering in unison as the ball gets passed back and forth across the pitch. It gets passed to Sam and the goal is somehow left wide open. This seems almost too miraculous, but you try not to doubt and instead focus on the magic that might be about to happen. Sam claims the ball once again and keeps running forward with it, dribbling it past the opposing players. The stadium waits with bated breath and the tension in the crowd could be cut with a knife. With the looming clock ticking down its last seconds, Sam kicks the ball straight toward the goal, swiftly pushing it past the goalkeeper, making the score 1-1. The timer buzzes loudly, signifying the end of the game, and Richmond has done it. They end with the tie they needed and the fans go wild.

“With a clean goal from Obisanya, the game ends with a tie!” The announcer repeats into his microphone, as the team runs to hug each other. You and Keeley stand up, exploding with joy as you hug each other tightly, Rebecca turning to hug Higgins from behind her. The fans start to storm the pitch, and everyone is quick to exit the owner’s box, wanting to join in on all the fun. Rain be damned, nothing is going to stop you from celebrating. You search the sea of people for your boyfriend, who pushes Jamie off his back when he sees you.

“Go get your girl mate,” Jamie smiles, patting Sam lovingly on the back before turning to Isaac and celebrating with him.

“Y/N!” Sam calls, waving his arms to get your attention. Your smile grows as you spot him, running at full speed, though trying not to slip on the damp grass. His arms open as he meets you halfway, catching you as you hurdle into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. He picks you up lightly, both of you laughing, and spins you around before putting you back down.

“That was fucking amazing!” You praise. “Oh my God, the tension in the crowd was insane but you absolutely fucking killed it!” You tighten your grip on your boyfriend, unable to keep the smile off your face.

“Hearing you cheer really helped,” he comments as you pull back slightly to look at him.

“Yeah, might have been a bit aggressive up there. Almost took Keeley’s hand off with how hard I was squeezing”.

Sam laughs, lightly grabbing the sides of your face and pulling you in for a kiss. The cheers of the fans still on the pitch fade away to background noise as you immediately kiss back, putting all the remaining adrenaline into it. You’re so proud of him and you want him to know it every chance you get. When you two pull away, Sam grabs your hand, twirling you around before settling you back to face him.

“What was that for?” You ask, a confused look in your eyes.

“Just wanted to get a good look at you in my number”. It had become custom for you to wear a shirt with Sam’s famous ‘24’ on the back and he loves it every time.

“My one and only,” you reply, “now come on, this rain is starting to soak through my shoes”. You pull the two of you closer to the exit, but you don’t get too far before Sam’s picking you up and carrying you bridal style across the rest of the pitch. “Sam! Put me down!” You slap his arm lightly before gripping his neck, not wanting to fall.

“Do not worry, I’ve got you. Like I always do”.

#sam obisanya #ted lasso #sam obisanya x reader #ted lasso fan fiction #jamie tartt #afc richmond #roy kent #sam obisanya imagines #sam obisanya fan fiction

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janesociety · 3 months ago

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ghosting

marlene mckinnon x reader

type: hurt/comfort (?)

word count: 1.3k

summary: confessions on the astronomy tower. only vaguely halloween-y

masterlist | event masterlist

𝜗𝜚

“You’re not exactly sneaky.”

You didn’t bother turning around, continuing to stare straight out across the Hogwarts grounds. The holiday meant that they were busier than normal, drunk teenagers sprawling out in every direction as they took shortcuts to different houses’ parties or walked to complete dares in the Forbidden Forest.

“Maybe I wanted you to find me,” you said, still deadpanning straight ahead as she slotted herself in next to you. She slipped her legs through the railing of the astronomy tower, similarly to how you had when you sat down, and kicked them out, the heels of her leather boots bouncing off the stone exterior of the castle. Wordlessly, you held out the half smoked cigarette in your hands to her.

“Thought you said you were gonna quit?” she asked, taking it and pulling it to her lips. You spared a quick glance at her, the enchanted wings she’d been wearing as apart of her bat costume long since abandoned.

“I say a lot of things I don’t mean.”

Marlene rolled her eyes.

“Would you cut it out with the vague shit? First you’re ignoring me, then you’re running out of the party leaving Sirius looking like a kicked puppy, and you’re not telling anyone what’s going on.” She was talking with her arms like she tended to do, and you had trouble focusing on anything other than the lit end of the cigarette in her right hand. “Just- cut the shit, y’know? What’s got you acting up like this?”

“I’m on my period?” you offered up, in hopes she’d let it go.

“Bullshit.”

You groaned, your head dropping forward onto the metal railing. The fall chill was starting to reach you as goosebumps flared up your tight-clad legs and bare arms.

“Come on, I’m your best friend and you know I’ll always tell it like it is but I’m here for you, so just spit it out and we’ll figure it out,” she said, stubbing out the cigarette she’d accidentally let burn out.

“You don’t get it,” you said, not lifting your head up.

“Of course I do, and even if I don’t, I’ll listen,” she said. She was really trying to be a good friend, your good friend, and tried to keep her bolstering personality at bay.

“But you don’t! You can’t! You’ve been out since we were like thirteen, it’s different for you!”

You looked at her finally. The shock was evident on her face, although she was clearly trying to hide it, but no one could read her like you.

“Out?” It was softer, less pushy than she had been before.

Your breath was caught in your throat and you didn’t know if you could speak if you tried. You nodded.

“That’s what this is about? Oh, Y/N, you know that’s not a big deal, no one back there would ever think any-”

“But they’re not everyone,” you said, shaking your head. You blinked back tears. “They’re not everyone, they’re not the rest of Hogwarts, and they’re definitely not my parents.” Marlene was still somewhat at a loss for words. “You guys have gotten good at it. At ignoring the stares and the comments, but I can’t do that. It’s wrecking me and no one even knows yet.”

Marlene got a little closer, shifting around so she was facing you.

“You don’t have to tell anyone, anyone you don’t want to, but you’ve got so many people that’ll love you regardless,” she said. Her manicured hand, fresh spiderwebs painted on the nails, found its way to your arm. “And who wouldn’t hesitate to hex a bitch out for saying shit.”

You couldn’t help the watery laugh you let out at her wording, still trying to keep the tears on your waterline from spilling over. She brought her arm up around your neck, locking you into a hug.

“I love you,” she said, a sing-songy tone to her voice as she started to rock back and forth with you. You laughed again, hugging her back.

“I love you too,” you said, trying not to chew a hole through your cheek with worry. “I always thought you were so cool. For coming out and being out and being you.”

“Nah, you were always cooler than me,” she said, shaking her head and sitting up straighter, releasing you from her tight hold. “You were cooler than everyone, actually.”

The smile you gave her was tight, trying to figure out how to navigate the next sentence that was about to come out of your mouth.

“It was you,” you said, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. “That made me realize n’ all.” Marlene’s face bunched up in confusion before softening again. When she didn’t immediately respond, you kept talking. “I just remember how awesome I thought it was when you came out in year three and then that time we agreed to teach each other how to kiss and-”

It took a second to process, her lips on yours. A feeling you hadn’t felt since you were thirteen and confused on the windowsill of the common room, the middle of the night with nothing but the cracking of the fire and your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

She pulled back, gasping and pink, and you couldn’t help your down blush spreading through your cheeks. Before you could dwell on the feelings of doubt again, you leaned back in.

It was long and cathartic, years of pent up feelings and shame falling to the wayside as hands found their way around each other’s necks and interlocked in each other’s hair. It was everything you’d thought it would be when you were fourteen, jealous of your friends finding partners and being out across the castle and the school. When you were fifteen, laying in bed, kept awake by the thoughts of bleach blonde hair and leather boots. And so, so much more. All your years at school spent pining and waiting, all coming to fruition at the top of the astronomy tower on Halloween.

The party was starting to slow down, having been going on for hours by that point. Not that Marauders’ parties typically had a time limit, but the students of Hogwarts definitely were not accustomed to weekday parties and a Wednesday night Halloween was not ideal. Sirius had been rather upset by the projections of a weeknight party, but his damped mood was quelled with the reminder that the coming weekend would continue the festivities.

So when you and Marlene walked back through the porthole, hand and hand, the music had been dampened to a soft roar and the only people left in the common room were the Marauders & Co. and a few other upperclassmen. Sirius's head popped up over the back of the couch as you two entered, still obviously under the influence of something with a lopsided smile on her face.

“Y/N! We missed you in the last part of the party, babe, where’d you run off too?” he asked, propping himself up to lean over the back of the sofa, presumably kicking Remus in the process as the latter let out a groan and sat up.

“Nowhere important, I’ve returned her in one piece,” Marlene said, practically dragging you across the common room towards the girl’s dormitory stairs. “Goodnight, boys!” she called behind her, still pulling you along with her.

Remus and Sirius sat there in silence for a moment before Sirius finally spoke up.

“This whole queer thing is starting to get a bit redundant, isn’t it?”

#marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #marauders fic #the marauders #marlene mckinnon #marlene mckinnon fanart #marlene mckinnon x reader #marlene mckinnon x fem!reader #marlene mckinnon fanfiction #janie writes ‧₊˚✩彡

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 10 months ago

Text

She Likes You Anyway

Casey Novak x autistic fem!reader Warnings: Foster care (please don't read if the subject matter is triggering for you!) Word count: 1,705

You sat on the couch, staring at the door and furiously tapping your legs. Casey squeezed your hands between hers to keep them from shaking. Even so, you rocked slowly back and forth, the rhythm and movement calming you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Casey asked, a concerned expression on her face.

“Well, it’s a little late to turn back now.”

Casey sighed and circled her thumbs over your hands. “What are you worried about?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, that I’ll be a shit parent?”

“Hey,” she said, grabbing your head to hold you steady.. “We’ve been over this. You are kind and empathetic and you make people feel safe. And you’re great with kids.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, slowing your tapping.

“If anybody should be worried, it’s me,” Casey added. “I really didn’t want a baby.”

It was your turn to comfort Casey now. She tried to look strong–she always did. But she was biting her lip and picking at the corner of her nails, telltale signs that she was more anxious than she let on. You drew circles with your fingers on her thighs.

“You’re gonna do great,” you said. “We already did the most important thing right.”

“What do you mean?”

“We kept the siblings together.”

Casey shrugged. “I guess you’re right,” she mumbled.

“No, Case,” you said, your voice emphatic. “I’m definitely right. You don’t get it as much because you don’t have siblings. My siblings are my life, you know that. It would have killed me to be separated from them. And we–you–said yes to a baby, even though it’s not what you planned for, so they could stay together.”

Casey exhaled shakily and leaned her head against your shoulder. “What if we fuck up our foster kids, Y/N?”

“I mean, at least we had good intentions,” you replied, chuckling slightly.

“I’m serious!” she complained, pushing you slightly.

“Look, we’re gonna be fine. And they’re gonna be fine. You’re spiraling more than me now. We gotta pull it together.”

You wrapped your arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and breathing her in. You both jumped when a knock on the door interrupted your silence.

Casey stood quickly, smoothing her hair, then extending a hand to you. “Well,” she shrugged. “Here goes.”

You’d been given almost no information about the kids. All you knew was that there would be three of them, and one of them was under a year old. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t out-of-your-mind nervous. Three kids for your very first foster placement. But the bottom line was that there were three kids who needed a place to stay, where they’d be safe and loved and together. And you and Casey could provide that for as long as they needed it.

You opened the door to a very frazzled case worker with a baby on her hip, a toddler holding her hand, and another child hiding behind her back.

Casey invited them in, always better with the formalities than you, and the caseworker nearly ran to the couch, shoving the baby into your arms. Your maternal instincts, honed from years of big sisterhood, kicked in, and you quickly cradled him in your arms. You breathed him in, that specific, powdery baby smell, that reminded you so much of your brother when he was this age.

“Hi,” you cooed at him. “Hi, little man.” He immediately clenched his fists and bawled, squirming in your arms. “Okay,” you said, running a hand through his dark curls. You repositioned him so that his face was pressed into your chest and bounced him around the room.

You looked at Casey and the caseworker, who sat on the couch over a pile of paperwork. You’d never been more relieved to have a lawyer for a partner. You also smiled to notice that the toddler, a little girl, was seated in between them, sucking her thumb, and that Casey’s hand was resting on her back.

The two of you made eye contact across the room, and she furrowed her eyebrows at you, as if to ask, Are you okay? You nodded back, pressing the sobbing baby closer to your chest, and whispered, “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

The oldest child sat on the opposite end of the sectional, fiddling with a fidget spinner. Her shoulders were hunched protectively inward, hood pulled up, and she avoided your eyes as you walked closer.

“I bet you know the best ways to calm him down,” you said, sitting down next to her as the baby hiccuped in your lap, red-faced.

The older girl shot a furtive glance at you, then looked away again.

“What’s his name?” you asked.

“King,” she whispered, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear.

“King,” you repeated. “Cool name for a cool kid, huh?”

Hearing his name seemed to calm King down a bit, and he leaned into you, spent. You rubbed his back absentmindedly and turned your attention to the withdrawn girl on the edge of the couch.

“I’m Y/N,” you said. “And, uh, the lady over there is Casey. I know you probably have a lot of feelings right now, and you might be scared.” The girl tensed. “That’s okay. And you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But Casey and I are gonna make sure that you’re safe and taken care of, and we’re here for whatever you need, okay?”

She was silent for a long time, reaching out a finger to let King wrap his hand around it. You’d just about given up on any further conversation when she said, “Are you gay together?”

You grinned, trying not to laugh. “Yep. Yeah, we are.”

Her face scrunched up, like she was thinking very deeply about your relationship.

“I’m Imogen,” she finally said.

“Nice to meet you, Imogen.” She still wouldn’t look at you, but it was a start. And who were you to judge, anyway? You didn’t like eye contact either.

“She’s really pretty,” Imogen said, inclining her head toward Casey, who now held the toddler in her lap.

“She is.” You leaned in closer to Imogen, as if to tell her a secret. “I really lucked out.”

“She’s taller than you.” Day one, and Imogen was already laying it all out on the table.

“She sure is.”

“And your hair is like a boy.”

“Yep,” you said, running a hand through it.

“She likes you anyway.” You couldn’t tell if this was a question or a statement.

“Seems like it,” you confirmed, adjusting King in your lap as he snoozed. “I mean, I hope so. We live together and everything.”

“Why?” Imogen asked, finally meeting your eyes. Hers were defiant, almost angry, a dark brown that deepened in the fading light.

“Why do we live together?”

“Why does she like you?”

You grinned. Casey would die when you relayed this conversation to her later. She’d lord it over you for years.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Must be my winning personality.”

“You’re funny,” Imogen decided, scooting a little closer to you.

“Thanks,” you replied, pleased with the progress you’d made. “What’s your sister’s name?” you asked, nodding toward the toddler on Casey’s lap.

“Laylie,” Imogen groaned. “She’s annoying.”

“Yeah, I get it,” you commiserated. “I have a little sister, too.”

“She always colors everything pink.”

“You don’t like pink?”

“No,” she said, emphatically.

“Well,” you said. “We’ve got three rooms for you guys, so if you want to sleep in your own room, you can.”

Imogen squirmed. “No, I want to stay with Laylie.”

“Okay,” you assured her. “That’s fine, too.”

“Sometimes she cries at night and I have to help her stop.”

You watched as Imogen bit her fingernails. You wondered where these kids had come from, what they’d been through, why they’d ended up here, at your and Casey’s house at 4:00 pm on a Tuesday. But you wouldn’t ask. They’d tell you when they were ready.

“You’re a good sister,” you said. “But, you know, if you want to keep sleeping or if Laylie’s being annoying, you can always wake up me or Casey and we’ll help Laylie. Plus, I think she already likes Casey.” You pointed at Casey, who now stood at the door with Laylie on her hip, saying goodbye to the caseworker.

After the door shut, everything stood still for a moment. Everything would change, you realized. Everything had changed. Casey sat down in an armchair across from you, letting Laylie down to explore, and you just looked at each other. You couldn’t say exactly what was in that look, but it was I love you and We can do this and Watching you do this makes me love you even more. You knew things wouldn’t always be easy, that tomorrow could be terrible, but you’d handle that like you handled everything: together.

“I’ve met Laylie,” Casey started. “But who else do we have here?”

“This is Imogen,” you said, gesturing to the girl next to you, who’d retreated into her sweatshirt again. “And King.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Imogen,” Casey said, sharing a glance with you to confirm that Imogen’s shyness wasn’t just for her.

You stood and stretched a bit, King limp in your arms. “Are you guys thirsty? Imogen, you want to come to the fridge and pick a drink? We’ve got juice boxes, lemonade, water, maybe even a soda or two.”

Imogen nodded. You walked over to Casey and, before she could protest, placed King firmly in her arms. “Here, hold him. What do you want? Water?”

Casey glared at you, equal parts stunned and scared. You smiled at her and shrugged. She was scared of babies, scared of how vulnerable they were, afraid to hurt them. You knew she’d have avoided holding King for as long as possible. You also knew this was ridiculous.

You rummaged through the fridge with Imogen, Laylie reaching up to you for a juice box. When you turned around to look over the kitchen island, Casey was running a finger across King’s dimpled chin. She planted a kiss on his head and smiled softly at him, and you knew it was all going to be okay.

#casey novak #casey novak x reader #casey novak one shot #casey novak drabble #casey novak fluff #law and order svu #svu #casey novak fanfic #neurodivergent #autistic #casey novak x autistic reader #x autistic reader #novak family chronicles

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channoticedmeuwu · 2 years ago

Text

IMAGINING. . . SOOBIN W TATTOOS !!

p — CHOI SOOBIN × FEM!READER | g — suggestive asfff, slight fluff, s2l!au kinda, | w — sexual tension type like a lot, pool scene, mentions of reader wearing revealing clothing (again it's literally a pool scene), mention of cigs somewhere + not really proofread

A/N — based on a thirst trap I saw on ig you have me on chokehold for the rest of the month <3 idc if the concept doesn't fit I needed it.

🖇️ READ PART TWO HERE !!

PARTIALLY INSPIRED BY ARIANA GRANDE'S “BREAK UP W/ YOUR GIRLFRIEND” MV & SONG

you've been friends with soobin for quite some time now— you kicked it off at a cafe when your friend wanted to meet up after coming back to town. she had a few other friends there with her, choi soobin being one of them. “dude, you have to meet soobin,” you recalled your friend telling you, that you he was this fun guy with a great fashion sense, and you'd just brushed her aside, not paying too much attention.

but now, you kind of wished you did. soobin wasn't anything like you imagined. you probably pictured an average looking guy with a personality that reached depths, maybe wore a few fashionable pieces here and there. but you didn't expect him to have wear the simplest outfits, and yet look like— well, the way he did.

you eyed him in a white t shirt covering all of his arms, the thin material subtilty revealing dark outlines on his skin, a delicate pendant around his neck and fluffy hair brushed aside to make room for his glasses. and when he smiled at a joke your friend made...shit. he was kind of cute.

and soobin made his efforts to talk to you, but you couldn't help but focus on his body language— his fingers gripping his forearm, his jacket riding down to show a few tattoos on his shoulder— and you'd mask a smile at him when you'd hear him repeat a question he asked you earlier, trying not to focus on the way his hand rested on his thigh.

and you'd see soobin when your friends hung out often— usually sitting in one of the corners of the table where you could observe everyone talk, and then driving people home in his car. but, despite his appearance, soobin was a sweet fucking guy. always offering you a napkin at dinner or lending you his jacket on a particularly windy night.

and everytime he stretched while he silently watched everyone talk at the table, you noticed there was something scribbled on his soft skin underneath his full sleeve shirt. and he'd catch you staring sometimes, his bangs falling over his eyes as he bent over to tap you on your knee, asking with a small smile if you're lost in thought.

so maybe, soobin had been growing on you. just a bit.

and the night you left a party after arguing with your ex about how you don't want to “try again,” some back and forth between bittersweet, blaring music & heated expressions flashing through shifting lights— your relationship had come to an end as abruptly as it had started, and you intended to keep it that way. refusing with a harsh pull, you rubbed your bare arms as you walked away, sliding between sweaty bodies in the tight room.

and you remember taking a seat outside, trying to wrap yourself in a shawl as cold wind nipped at your bare legs, muttering curses to your ex. the uncomfortably irritating sound of a couple making out in the corner was making your headache worse, as blaring music from inside muffled with the blowing wind.

you glanced down at your phone, knowing it'll offer you better entertainment than whatever was inside, when you saw a couple of texts from soobin a few hours ago.

SOOBIN

[11:12 pm] hey, y/n, how's the party?

how was the party? you scoffed to yourself, cigarette smoke wafting around in the air as you twiddled your thumbs hovering above the keyboard, trying to think of a response— when you reached over and pressed the call button, not really expecting him to pick up. “hey, soobin. I know it's super late, but can you pick me up?”

and soobin's response was a bit delayed, as if he was shocked you called, but he replied with something that sounded in-between a ‘sure’ and a hum, his voice hoarse. “oh, soobin. did I wake you up?”

“no, no. I was wide awake,” then you heard him yawn. your cheeks flushed as you tapped your foot to the ground, “sorry about that, soobin.”

he ignored your apology, mumbling at you to send him your location with another yawn. maybe you should have thought twice before calling him at nearly 4 in the night. but you didn't know that soobin was secretly over the moon at you calling him, he was just too sleepy to show it— every second he got, he had always picked to be your side. slowing down his pace to walk beside you, or discreetly allowing his fingers to brush against yours whenever he got a chance to, had his heart beating like crazy. you had his heart beating like crazy.

and when you finally sat in the passenger seat of soobin's car after a few more calls he made confirming your location— fuck.

you knew there was something suspicious about soobin always wearing a full sleeve shirt even in the hottest weather possible, but last thing you expected was him having an arm full of tattoos resting on the wheel, the other out the window. his designs slowly circled and disappeared behind the strap of his black tank top. and when your eyes trailed below towards his sleeping shorts, accidentally catching them riding up as he bent over to lower the aircon—

you snapped your eyes forward, feeling a blush settle on your cheeks. your fingers clutching the end of your shawl tightened.

and little did you know, soobin did it on purpose. he'd seen the way you looked at him, your eyes slyly (or not) slipping down to gaze at his arm flex when he scratched the back of his neck or readjusted his hair, a guilty, dark shift to your eyes when you'd notice his fingers on his thighs. and was it that bad to admit he liked it when he saw the expression on your face lightly change when you noticed a tattoo peeking out? you'd slowly press your legs together, a hand moving to hide your face as you'd look the other direction, trying to focus at the conversation everyone else was involved in. but he'd see you slowly default back to him, and everytime, he'd feel a tingle in his stomach when you'd lick your lips, and excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

“how are you? how was the party?” he gave you a sleepy smile in the car, his eyes glazing over you. you looked towards him, pressing your lips together at the way his hair fluffed up, his hand rubbing his thigh as he leaned his head back to the headrest, revealing the shape of his jaw—“good. met my ex. not doing that again,” you nodded, earning a small chuckle from him.

and throughout the drive, you felt yourself slipping into sleep, accidentally focusing on your reflection in the windshield instead of the traffic. your eyelids closing, the soft bass of a summer song playing in the background, the fresh car scent wafting around you— before the car would jerk, shooting you awake. “sorry,” soobin would mumble, throwing you an apologetic look before he'd suggest you lay your seat back, allowing you to sleep in a more comfortable position. and you remember refusing, curling into a ball to sleep instead.

and occasionally, a speeding car would pass by an intersection, and soobin would lean his arm out to stop you from falling forward as the car came to a sudden stop, a serious expression on his face as he asked you, “you okay?” and the two of you would trail your eyes down to his hand on your bare thigh, hearts skipping beats. and he'd snap his hand back, apologizing and trying to clear his intentions, when you'd just giggle him an, “its okay!” thanking him for looking out for you. and the drive would start again, and he'd yawn after hearing you yawn yet again, eyelashes bearing sleepy tears.

and right before he dropped you off at your place, he turned his body to face you, scratching the back of his neck. he was telling you something about not hesitating to call him, but did he really think you'd pay attention? your eyes watched the way his detailed arms flexed when he ran his hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the material of his shorts. your eyes watched the stars sprinkled across his collarbones attentively, wishing you could see the designs that hid behind his clothes.

and when soobin held a small ‘get together’ as he called it— was really a party— you thought you'd really never lived. you weren't planning on going, but after being urged by everyone in your circle, there you were, wearing swimming clothes underneath your dress and holding hands with your friend as you walked into the venue.

and eyeing soobin in the crowd, soft giggles and hushed whispers as the bass snuck up your legs— and you felt your stomach tighten when he glanced over towards you, a hand gesturing to come closer.

and dipping your feet as you watched everyone urge soobin to jump in the pool— him shyly refusing with a shake of his hand as he backed away, trying not to glance at you, sitting sweetly as your legs tread in the water. and he didn't notice someone sneak behind him, pushing him in, earning cheers from everyone around. and when he came up to the surface— beads of water dripping down as he pushed his hair back with a scowl and furrowed eyebrows, his dimples suddenly popping out. and he noticed you giggling as he pulled his top off, your eyes glazing over the chain that hung in the dents of his shoulders and collarbones, and he broke out into a smile, slowly walking towards you. “come on, y/n, jump in.”

you refused without actually meaning to, but then, everyone started a chant lead by soobin— and the last thing you remember before your ears crashed against the surface of the water was soobin's chin coming to rest on your knees, tilting his head with a smirk as he snaked his hands around your thighs to pull you in.

and everyone followed suit, splashes of water against your cheeks as soobin held your arms, laughing as the waves hit your face.

and everything happened so fast, his arms clinging to you when someone splashed water on you, or him wiping the water out of his face with a soft gasp. his hand on your waist, your leg slowly wrapping around his waist as he pushed you into a corner when everyone left to grab towels— bending lower, almost underneath the water when you felt his breath hit the cold skin of your lips, a soft, “can I?” as he pulled your hair to the side, his lips against your own, pushing you against the cold walls of the pool.

the sensation of the ripples of water against your hips was sending you over the edge whenever he adjusted your legs around him, softly smiling when he'd hear you mumble something in between, feeling your hands around him. and it was almost horrifying the way you could hear him kiss you, despite the music in the back, despite the water rippling around the two of you.

and you remember you snuck your fingers to pull lightly at his hair, the other hand finding it's way to tug the pendant around his neck when he pulled away— hooded eyes and cute puffy lips, his cheeks pink as he whispered, dragging your hand down his tattooed chest.

“if you keep doing that, we'll have a little problem.”

txt — masterlist

main taglist (hmu to get added!) — @koishua @navyhyuck @allegxdly @daystiny @kdyism @neotism @bluejaem @radiorenjun @sleepylixie @oifelixcmerebrou @mrkcore @imdamnconfused @sicluvz @abhirami20 @tyongishs @emvrd @brxght-world @1921choi @bangchansbae

I’d appreciate if you’d give me a little feedback on the drabble if you read, whether it’s an ask, a reply or in the tags of the rb! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

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