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dragonbarbie · 9 months

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𝐖𝐇𝐘'𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇?

modern!aegon ii targaryen x reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: reader thinks aegon can never be more than a one night stand, and aegon is intent on getting her to give him a chance.

word count: 2.5k

tags: modern!au, smut, drunk!aegon having sex with sober!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, tity sucking, pussy eating, p in v sex, unprotected sex

note: i very much write fanon!aegon, not the canon, show!version.

sidenote: is this lowkey inspired by my irl situationship who wont quit calling me every time he gets drunk?? maybe

it was a regular friday night for aegon. his frat was throwing a big party, and he had organised everything down to the last detail. he had a reputation to maintain after all, known affectionately as the king of parties of dragonstone university. he had already drunk his own weight in alcohol, flirted (and then proceeded to get handsy) with a couple of girls but he’d been too distracted to follow through with any of them.

his mind instead wandered back to a couple of weeks ago, at another party, where he’d met y/n. she’d been chatting to cregan stark, wearing a little black dress that hugged her in the best way imaginable. he knew, looking at her enchanting laugh at stark’s dumb joke, he had to have her. putting on his most charming smile, he’d approached her.

she’d been wary of him because of his reputation around campus (who wouldn’t be) but after a few disarming jokes as his fingertips grazed the side of her thighs, he’d managed to convince her to give him a chance.

drunken steps were then taken back to her dorm room, and they’d had what aegon could only call amazing sex.

now hold on, you have to believe him when he says amazing, alright? he’d slept with too many women to count, after a while the nights blended to the point that he couldn’t much differentiate between what having sex with each of them had felt like. so, when one such night stood out for him? it meant it had met a very high bar indeed. after all, he thought, he didn’t go around spending the night at every girl’s place.

he'd thus expected a little warmer treatment come morning and was rudely shocked at her attempting to throw him out. still, wearing his jeans in such a hurry that its button and fly was undone, unlaced shoes, bare-chested as he held his rumpled shirt in his hand, he’d had the audacity to offer her a lazy grin and promise “i’ll call you.”

“please” she’d snorted with an amused look, “everyone knows aegon targaryen is not the type to call.” taking no note of his offended expression, she’d shut the door in his face.

he’d been wondering about those words ever since. sure, she hadn’t been wrong but, hey, he’d meant the lie this time! with tits that great, ass that perfect, why wouldn’t he want a repeat of last night? he’d thought to himself.

determined to prove her wrong, he’d asked around the frat house and found out her number. but as his hand had hovered over the call button, something had stopped him. she’d caught him spot on, he realised. he wasn’t a relationship guy, and she wasn’t expecting the relationship-thing with him. perhaps it was best he left her alone.

he’d done just that, at least while sober. drunk aegon on the other hand, found it much easier to pick up the phone and dial her number.

“who is this?” there was panic and sleep in her voice, having picked up an unknown number at 2 in the morning “sweetheart! you picked up” he’d grinned, words slurring. he could practically hear the eyeroll on the other end. “aegon… to what do i owe the pleasure?” “i was just missing you.” he sighed. “sure.” nothing in her voice indicated that she believed him.

“i’m actually not far from your dorm. how about i come up with a bottle of tequila and we can… catch up?” he suggestively added. “it’s 2:14 am…. on a tuesday.” she pointed out, but her words didn’t seem to mean much to him as he replied, “so?” an exasperated sigh could be heard over the phone, “good night, aegon.” click. he stared down on the iphone in his hand in disbelief, she’d hung up on him.

he decided maybe he’d come out too strong, so the next time he texted first. he’d stared at the text for a couple of minutes, and when he saw that she was online but hadn’t bothered to text him back, he’d walked over to the nearest girl and proceeded to make out with her in the bathroom. until he was interrupted with a buzzing in his pocket, “just a minute” he’d mumbled against her lips, unbothered by her disappointed expression as he fished for the phone in his pocket hurriedly.

he saw that y/n had finally replied to his ‘u up?’ with a ‘depends.’ his brow furrowed at her response in confusion, he typed back ‘on what’.

the notification arrived with a ping. her response read ‘are u drunk?’. something told him instinctively to lie. he typed out a no, but once the message sent, he realised it had autocorrected to ‘yo’. he corrected it to a no and sent again, only to find the same mistake committed again. it was only after a string of typos had been sent, did he blink and realise autocorrect wasn’t to blame at all, his damn fingers just refused to cooperate with his inebriated brain.

ping. after receiving the string of nonsense, she finally replied ‘i got my answer.’ “aegon?” the girl in front of him looked at him impatiently, only to have him grab the handle of the bathroom door, leaving with a quick “gotta go”. he immediately called up y/n as he walked out of the party, but the call went straight to voicemail. all four times.

thus, every night aegon had gotten drunk since, he found himself being distracted by thoughts of y/n, frustrated at her refusing to engage with him.

that night too, once the clock on the wall started to look to him as if it were melting off and his feet seemed to stumble wherever he walked, his brain suddenly thought showing up to her dorm was the best idea ever.

reaching her door, he ran a hand through his hair before knocking. no response. impatient, he loudly whined “y/n! c’mon, open up!” met with more silence. he whipped his phone out, blinking at the bright screen as he concentrated to make sure it was without typos, he sent her a text, ‘m 0utsidee’. he pounded with his fist on the door one more time, before a door opened, but not the one he was standing in front of.

three doors down, y/n stood against her doorframe in her small black shorts, red tank top riding up slightly to reveal skin just above them. “wrong fucking door, idiot.” aegon grinned as he walked towards her. “you’re lucky baela’s out of town for the weekend, otherwise she would have kicked your ass for banging on her door like that.”

ignoring her, he pouted as he leaned his head against her door frame, looking too much like a wounded puppy. y/n felt a tug at her stomach at how undeniably cute he looked. “why don’t you ever pick up my calls?”

“why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she asked instead of answering. “what?” he mumbled, confused. “high….why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she slowly repeated, as if talking to a two-year-old. “i’m not interested in someone who needs to be drunk to call me. i don’t want to be your booty call.” she shrugged. his lower lip jutted out further at her response, crease appearing between his brow. oh, gods, y/n found herself thinking, how could someone manage to look this pathetic and this cute at the same time.

“you’re not a booty call.” he groaned in protest. after all, there were enough girls at that party willingly throwing themselves at him, he could have been with anyone, and yet… it was her door his drunken steps had taken the path of.

“go home, aegon. it was a one-time thing. it’s not happening again.” she insisted. her words seemed to have no effect on him, as he placed a hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. he bent down to her ear and whispered, his words slurring, “let me show you all the reasons that this should be more than just a ‘one-time-thing’.”

he pressed his lips to hers, softly at first. she didn’t immediately kiss him back, but the feeling of his lips on hers felt more intoxicating than whatever it was that she could smell off his breath, and she found her lips moving against his within seconds. he bit her lower lip playfully, at her response. she parted her lips to allow him to slide his tongue past them. his hand, meanwhile, slid under the material of her tank and travelled upwards, thumb pressing against her nipple as he squeezed her breast. breaking from the kiss for a second, he smirked at her, “didn’t bother wearing a bra to greet me?”. “i was preparing for bed!” she hissed in response. “excuses” he shook his head at her, teasing.

with his hand he lifted her tank to reveal her bare breasts. “aegon!” she attempted to keep her voice low, lest her neighbours wake up to the scene, “we’re in the middle of the hallway, anyone can walk in!” the idea of someone catching them only made it all the more exciting for aegon, “relax.” he told her with a laidback smile.

before she could protest, his head dipped and he captured her nipple in his mouth. a moan escaped her lips at the feeling, and she stumbled back, her back hitting her doorframe. aegon continued his tongue’s assault on her sensitive nipple, one hand gripping her waist to keep her in place, the other reaching behind her to squeeze her ass. her hand held the nape of his neck, as her head was thrown back in pleasure at his actions. she whined when he abruptly stopped.

he kneeled down and his fingers reached up, pulling her shorts and panties down her legs, causing a shiver to go up her spine. chewing on her lower lip in nervousness she weakly said, “we should go inside” but she couldn’t deny that the thought of getting caught made her even more wet. there was a hint of recklessness and danger in his eyes, “where’s your sense of adventure?”. he threw the clothes inside her ajar door, then lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. she audibly gasped as she felt his tongue upon her already soaking pussy.

“aegon…ah!” her hand gripped his hair as his tongue played tricks on her core, her eyes rolling back till she could see stars. his grip on her thigh remained firm, and she was certain she would be waking up with a bruise. “close… so…close…” she had begun to say after a few minutes, feeling her muscles tense, when he stopped.

he stood up and started to undo his pants, freeing his length. he grabbed her by the waist, letting the tip of his cock tease her folds. she was already moaning for him, “want me to take you right here? make you scream my name, till your neighbours come checking?” she swallowed at the thought, lust overtaking her eyes.

“let’s do one thing.” he smiled as if he’d struck upon the most perfect idea, but the gleam in his eyes told y/n it couldn’t be anything good. he turned her around by her waist, hand coming to her front to rub her clit as he whispered in her ear, “you see that door?”. she knew he could only mean the door to the elevator which was the way to enter her dormitory floor. she managed a nod in response, unable to form words as his fingers pressed down on her so ruthlessly. “keep looking at it.” he commanded as he grabbed her hips back to push his cock inside her. “aegon!” she gasped at the feeling.

he entered her completely in one go, pulling out punishingly slow before pushing back in. he continued speaking as he impaled her, “someone’s gonna walk in any moment now…” he teased, “…and see you in this mess… see you bent over, taking me from behind…like a whore” the thought embarrassed her, yes, but what embarrassed her more was that she found herself almost wanting it to come true.

“even when they walk in, i won’t stop.” he threatned, his thrusts becoming faster. “you’ll be on display for everyone to see… to see how well you take my cock.” he gathered her hair in his fist in one hand, and she felt him pulling it lightly. “yes, oh, yes!” she found herself moaning, eyes intently trained on the door. “you’d like that? of course, you would, little slut.” she only whimpered in response, his words bringing her closer and closer to her edge. “you’d love to have everyone see just how well you receive a ‘booty call’” he chuckled. she could feel herself going weak at the knees at his pace and dirty talk.

“aegon… i—ah!” pleasure spread over every inch of her body, as she came all over his cock. he continued to thrust into her, chasing his own orgasm, until he emptied inside of her with a grunt.

her legs felt wobbly as he pulled out of her, turning her back around to face him. “next time i call—” he panted as he spoke, exerted from their activities, “—pick up.” she smirked, in contrast to his dominating actions mere moments ago, his words now sounded more like a pleading request; one she felt gracious enough to grant him as his juice and her own dripped down her legs. “i will. promise.”

his pearly white teeth showed as he grinned at her response, pleased. “oh, but i’m not nearly done with you for the night, just yet.” he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he shut the door behind them as he walked back inside her dorm.

the next morning, she didn’t kick him out like the last time. she let him linger around her bed, aegon placing a trail of kisses down her body as a manner of greeting her good morning. he was needy and showed it by being as tactile with her as could be. yet she felt comfortable with his touches, allowing herself to lie with him for hours, their legs tangled. even as she bid him goodbye from her door, she had to practically tear her lips off his, neither able to get enough of the other.

she felt content as she’d shut her door behind her, leaning against it as she thought back to the night that had passed, when her phone started to ring. she picked it and smiled as she saw the name being displayed, ‘aegon (don’t pick up)’.

“see i am the type who calls. a lot” she laughed at his words through the phone, able to hear him standing right outside the door. “and also the type who does breakfast. what do you say, brunch in an hour?”

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rebelfell · 6 months

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so right, it's wrong

continued from x

where its halloween and eddie feels guilty for hooking up with his best friend's ex...except are you still his ex? 18+, MDNI

“Stupid. This is stupid. This is so, so stupid.”

Eddie mutters to himself as he skulks up the driveway towards the front of Steve’s house. His costume was hot and itchy on his skin, the pants suddenly feeling too tight and his shirt and vest threatening to choke him despite their looseness on his frame. The fencing sword tied to his hip poked him with every step and his boots were more like cement blocks he was dragging to the threshold as he rang the bell.

The idea to dress as characters from The Princess Bride had been in the works for ages—ever since Steve heard about the contest KQRX was throwing, offering free concert tickets for a whole year as the prize. Originally, it was going to be all three of you, but that was before the break-up, before Tina’s party…before Eddie considered selling his soul for another night with you.

It felt wrong even going through with all this, considering how involved you’d been.

It was you who helped Eddie scour seemingly endless thrift shops for the perfect pieces of his outfit while he was pinching the inside of his arm to stop himself thinking about dragging you into one of the dressing rooms and kissing every inch of your body. And it was you who watched as he and Steve practiced their “sword fight” out by the Harrington’s pool—looking debilitatingly, unfairly, cute wrapped up in a flannel, correcting Steve when he botched his lines and making a pink blush dance across Eddie’s cheeks when you praised his delivery.

Steve was convinced there was still a good chance of winning even with just the two of them, and Eddie didn’t have it in him to protest. He was still trying to figure out how he was going to look his friend in the eye after what happened.

You and Eddie hadn’t spoken since Friday night.

There had been tons of parties all weekend, as was typical whenever Halloween fell on a Tuesday. He probably could have found you if he’d had the balls to go looking. He knew well how keen you were to dress up at any and every opportunity for your favorite holiday.

And he wanted to call you, he really did. He must have dialed all but the last digit of your number about a hundred times since that night.

It was driving Wayne up the wall.

“Boy, if you ain’t gonna dial that phone, stop gettin’ its hopes up. If you don’t leave it alone, I’m gon’ knock you upside the head with it.”

But if he did call, what was he supposed to say? Hey! Thanks for sucking out the very essence of my soul through my cock? How about I return the favor sometime? Sound good?

Yeah, sure. That would go over great.

So instead, he’d hidden in his room. He’d worked on campaigns for Hellfire in between his pacing in front of the phone. And instead of going to your friend Ella’s party Sunday night, knowing how likely it was you’d be there, he’d gone over to Gareth’s for a slasher movie marathon.

Nothing like senseless bloodshed and gore to kill a perpetual boner. Not that it did.

Even hours of b-tier horror couldn’t stop him from thinking about you. The whole night kept playing on a loop in his mind. The way you straddled his lap and moaned into his mouth as he grasped at your hips to grind you against him. The way your mouth fell open in a wanton gasp as he kissed his way down your neck. The way you slinked to the floor and released him from his boxers that were stretched to their absolute limit. The look in your eyes as you spoke, low and sultry.

“I know you want me, Eddie,” you’d cooed at him, teasingly kissing at his weeping, sensitive tip until his head was thrown back and his eyes rolled back into his skull. “Show me how much.”

“Is that seriously the best you could do, Munson? Come on!”

Steve’s voice rings out harshly the second he opens the door, jerking Eddie out of his trance.

He huffs at the sight of Eddie’s mustache, or rather lack thereof, placing his hands on cocked hips. He makes an annoyingly good Dread Pirate Roberts in a billowing black shirt with a deep v-neck that reveals a patch of his dense chest hair. His black pants are tight, showing off muscled thighs and he’s already got his mask wrapped around his head, his own sword in hand.

“Not all of us are part werewolf, Steven.” Eddie snipes as he stalks through the door and pushes past his friend, guilty eyes averting.

“Whatever, maybe we can fill it in or something. Oh, honey! Perfect timing!”

Honey?

Eddie’s head whips around to see you floating down the staircase, the swishing of your skirt around your legs halting as Steve holds out his hand and tugs you into him.

“Shit, babe, you look hot,” Steve says, planting a wet kiss on your cheek that made you smile and caused Eddie’s stomach to lurch.

“Hot” didn’t even begin to describe you tonight. You looked…like a princess.

There was no other word for it. His heart was hammering behind his rib cage as his eyes roved over you, eager to take in every detail he could. Your dress was almost exactly like the one from the movie and even with the big sleeves and a long, flowing skirt, it failed to conceal the shape of your body underneath. It hinted at the curves there, teasing Eddie with the memory of them. Was it really just a few days ago his hands had roamed so freely all over you? Had feasted on the dip of your waist and the fullness of your hips?

You peer at Eddie curiously, subtly stepping back from Steve as you’re tucking a piece of your long wig behind your ear. “You look nice,” you say.

“Except the obvious,” Steve sighs. “Can you do something about his mustache?”

“Yeah, sure,” you breathe, your eyes never leaving Eddie’s, your head tipping towards the bathroom. “Come in here where the light is better.”

With a gulp and a nod, he follows you while Steve heads for the kitchen to make another drink, and probably check his own reflection on the way.

Eddie is dead silent as he leans on the sink in the half-bath off the foyer. He clutches at the edge of the countertop, sweaty palms threatening to slip out from beneath him at any second. With any luck, maybe he’ll hit his head on the porcelain and the concussion will get him out of this.

You’re quiet too as you root around inside a small pouch filled with your make-up until you exhume a brown eyeliner pencil. You place your fingertips gently on his chin, holding his face steady as you color in his upper lip with short, soft strokes. The feather-light touch and the way your eyes focus so intently on him makes Eddie’s heart race and he feels certain you can see it’s about to beat straight out of his chest.

“You okay?” you whisper. “You’re shaking.”

Eddie nods, neck stiff and his body rigid with you standing so close to him. He swallows thickly, his throat clenching with the question he’s dreading. But he has to ask. He has to know.

“So, you guys are—are you, like…back together?”

“I don’t know yet,” you say, your voice small. “Maybe. We’ve been talking about it.”

“Since when?” he asks, and the sound comes out harsher than he meant. Your eyes flicker, the light from the sconce over the mirror shining in them.

“Sunday night. We ran into each other at Ella’s party.”

Fucking shit. Of course you did.

“I thought I might hear from you,” you add quietly. “Or maybe see you, but…”

You lick your lips, glancing away from him as you cap your eyeliner and tuck it back inside your bag. Your tongue wets the gloss you’re wearing and makes it look even shinier. Fuck, he wants to know how you taste tonight, what flavor it is that’s on your mouth.

“I…I…”

Eddie’s mind swims with all the words he wants to say, but they get snagged, unable to come out. Because what exactly is he supposed to say when all he can think about is pinning you against that door, hiking up your dress and filling your hot, slick core with his fingers or his tongue or his cock until you’re screaming his name loud enough for the entire town to hear?

Except that’s never gonna happen. Because he’s not Westley. He’s not the hero here. You’re not his heroine and you never will be. There’s no version of the movie that ends with Inigo and Buttercup riding off into the sunset together.

“It’s fine, Eddie. I get it,” you say softly. “We can forget it ever happened.”

Eddie sighs, the heft of his frustration punching it out of his chest. If that’s what you want, of course he’ll do it. He’s been pretending not to be in love with you for a long time already.

No sense breaking the streak now.

You lean around him to collect your bag from the sink and the smell of your perfume is like a punch straight to his gut. He takes one last deep breath of you as you zip your bag shut and reach for the knob on the door.

It creaks as you crack it open and you pause, chancing a glance back at him. "You really do look handsome," you tell him.

And then you leave. You head for the kitchen and go back to your boyfriend who's waiting for you. Back to the only version of this movie there is.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson stranger things

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sykosugu · 17 days

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♤♢ melodies of passion ♧♡ | one

♤ summary: he's the most powerful & ruthless yakuza boss in the city, and she's just a music store owner. but once he hears her singing voice, he wants nothing more than to hear it for the rest of his life..and she's not so sure about that.. he'll do anything to change that. a gojo satoru au

♢ warnings: this story will contain descriptions of violence, death, illegal activities, sexual content, gang related content, use of weapons

♧ aw: none this time around, only proofread once if that counts as a warning

♡ currently: ongoing - no update schedule

♤ taglist: open! just let me know

♢ wc: 3.1k

♧ carlile speaks: hi my loves! chapter one is here! I can't wait to hear your reactions. you might recognize someone in this story. send some love from me on her stories kickoff and in another life enjoy!

♡: you are here | next part

Gojo had been renovating his new estate for about a year now. Deciding on only the best of the best, but when it came to musical items that he wanted placed variously around his house; he wanted something more lived in. More story holding. Something that looks like it had been used and loved by many. That’s where he found you and your little shop “Encore Records” in the heart of downtown.

He wanted a grand piano, but he didn't just want any grand piano. He wanted the grand piano you had on display in your store. The one your grandfather left to you from his touring days. Your grandfather was a traveling artist, carting this piano around to every city, every country. It’d been more places than you. It sat dead center in your shop, surrounded by records, plants and various instruments customers could test out before placing orders. The only thing unavailable to order was the piano. It served as a centerpiece that you played fairly often, especially while customers perused the store and Ellie ran the cash register.

Gojo had been stopping in probably two or three times a week to try talking you into selling him the piano for his home; not taking no for an answer. Sometimes Ellie would have to fend him off while you were working in the back. Ellie would then always dash to the back to tell you what happened before another customer would walk in.

“That big Yakuza guy was in here again!” she says, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Huh?” you ask, pulling one of your earbuds out., slightly startled from the touch.

“You know, the tall white haired one who’s hot as fuck, and defintely thinks the same about you,” Ellie says, motioning to your frame, giggling at your disgusted look. “The one with the huge hands,” she winked at you.

“Ellie, he wants the piano, not me.”

“Girl, he wants both.” she chuckles, “You’re allowed to be proud of yourself,” and she's leaving you alone. Proud of yourself for what? For some Yakuza man coming into your store every day, possibly scaring off possible customers? Not everyone wants to come in here when there’s a guy with a gun strapped to his chest, followed by three other men who are also armed.

He’d offered you millions of dollars in return for the piano, but no amount of money could replace the memories you have sitting with your grandfather at this piano every night while he taught you how to play. Or the nights you’d gotten to be with him on tour and see him on stage sitting at the damn thing every night. There was no way you were going to give it up. But there was no way he was going to give up either.

It was a rainy Tuesday the next time Gojo decided to come in. Another attempt at your piano, but today something in him changed.

Walking in, Gojo notices you’d just opened so there weren't any customers yet. You still haven't fixed the doorbell either, another thing he’ll have to chastise you for today. He hears you before he sees you, singing along with the radio playing Forever Young by Rod Stewart through the speakers of your store, as you stand behind the counter on a step ladder rearranging the wall of weekly favorites.

“And may you grow to be proud

Dignified and true..”

Gojo can’t believe his ears; the angelic timbre of your voice and how it just rolls right off of your tongue so effortlessly.

“And do unto others

As you'd have done to you..”

He could listen to you all day long. In fact, he just might. He takes a seat on the piano bench, and just listens.

“Be courageous and be brave

And in my heart you'll always stay

Forever young, forever young

Forever young, forever young”

Once the song is over, you turn on the stool to grab the dust rag behind you, and you're startled by Gojo’s presence.

“Jesus, Gojo. Didn’t anyone teach you to knock?” you nearly fall off of the ladder,

“On a business’ door? No.” he smirks at you. “Didn’t anyone tell you to fix your doorbell? Pretty sure I did last week. And the week before that,” Gojo counts on his fingers, scolding you, “I’ll just have someone come do it for you.” He snaps his fingers, pointing at the man standing on his right. A tall, broad man with long black hair tucked neatly into a bun. He smiles as he pulls his phone from inside his jacket.

“No, no Gojo. Boundaries, remember?” you watch as he strides over to you, offering you his hand to help you off the ladder, but you ignore his gesture; placing your hands on the back of the ladder, stepping down, and turning to face him.

“Birdie, I’m not taking no for an answer. Your safety is at risk, and that’s not okay.” He retorts, the dark haired man already returning from making the phone call. He looks to Gojo, giving him a singular nod, to which Gojo nods back. “Repair man will be here soon.”

“Why do you even care? If I died, you could probably get a good deal on the piano.” your eyes involuntarily roll, “And I told you Birdie is reserved for my friends and those fortunate enough to see me naked, and you are neither of those things. Nor are you buying my piano.” Your hands are planted firmly on your hips as the words leave you.

Birdie was a nickname your grandfather gave you when you were young. Always running about singing like a bird. He’d scoop you up and you’d squeal, making him laugh with you. You were just a little birdie that wanted to sing her heart out. It’s what your mother wanted before she passed away. This store was your way of honoring your mother and your grandfather. They both instilled your love of music into you.

Mom loved singing karaoke anywhere she could; praying she’d get recognized by someone who saw potential in her. And oh boy, did she. But she had you and you were her main priority and nobody could deal with that when she’d mentioned she had a daughter to the talent agents. Her heart was broken but watching you grow up was what she really enjoyed. She just made sure you had the same love for music as she did.

“Ouch, you don’t see me as a friend yet? I practically come to see you every day.” he trails his fingertips up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Plus, if you were to die, I wouldn't be able to ask you to sing to me every day.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that. Nobody was,” you mutter. Nobody had heard you sing since before your grandfather passed away. He always begged you to go on tour with him and sing some of his songs with him but you always doubted your ability.

“Well, maybe if your doorbell was working, you could have stopped before I did.” The cocky man stands before you, hands in his pockets as he retracts his hands from you.

“Do you like hearing the sound of your own voice? Wouldn’t you rather listen to music?”

“Mm, sometimes. But the only music I want to hear is your voice telling me “I love you” for the rest of my life.”

“Fat chance, Mr. Yakuza man. Now, if you’re not here for anything other than to bother me about my doorbell and my piano, please leave.” your hands make haste to wipe the counter off before you lean back on the ladder. “What about a date?” you nearly choke on your own oxygen at his question.

“I’m sorry?” you giggle your response, unable to believe what he’d just said. Maybe Ellie was right.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he chuckles, “I’ll repeat it for you. I’d like to take you out on a date, Birdie.”

“Goj–”

“Satoru. I’ve told you to call me Satoru.” You don't miss the way his men behind him offer each other uneasy glances. He must not let anyone refer to him by his first name, and you’re not about to start either.

“Gojo, that’s not going to happen.”

“You wound me some more,” he dramatically clutches his chest, “I’ll change your mind one day, Birdie. Just watch,” he says as he makes his way to the door, his men leaving before he does. “Have a good day, Birdie. See you tomorrow.”

You’re staring into space as he leaves, thinking of the extravagant date he’d probably take you on. He’d probably be able to give you the Pretty Woman moment you’ve always dreamed of. The heels, the long red dress, the lipstick to perfectly match and the updo hairstyle to tie it all together. Gojo would probably make the best Edward Lewis in your life. But you’d never admit that out loud.

An unknown amount of time passes before you’re startled again; Ellie’s voice snaps you out of it. “Helloooo, Earth to Y/N!” she snaps her fingers in front of your face.

“Shit, sorry. I was stuck, haha,” you rub your eyes before looking at her face and offering her a smile. She hands you the coffee she had hid under her arm before tucking her belongings under the counter. You went back up the step ladder after grabbing the dust rag you’d gone looking for before you were so graciously interrupted by Gojo. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Why did Yakuza man just tell me you agreed to go on a date with him?”

“Huh?” you quickly turn to face her on the ladder, the legs wobbling under your jerking movements.

“He walked by me on my way up the sidewalk saying he finally got you to agree to a date and that I owed him the hundred bucks we bet on.”

“HUH?” nearly losing your footing for the second time today, you make your way down the ladder.

“Why are you acting like you don't know what I'm talking about?” she eyes you quizzically.

“Because I don’t know what you’re talking about! What bet?” your hands find your hips again.

“Why are you more interested in my wrong doings? He’s out here lying about you!” Ellie waves her hands back and forth, feigning innocence.

“And my best friend is betting against me!”

“Semantics! C’mon, y’know I'm not actually going to pay him. He’s got more money than any one person knows what to do with.”

“That’s not the point, Ellie. You bet against me! How could you?” you toss the dust rag at her, feigning annoyance.

“Because I see the way you look at him when he’s here!” she tosses it back at you.

“Ellie, he’s literally a yakuza. I can’t entangle myself in that, whether I like him or not,” you’d love to just let him spend a night with you but, a night with him is a night with five other people that go everywhere with him.

“Birdie, you have to live a little. Enjoy the thrill. Plus, he’d probably keep you so safe.”

“While simultaneously putting me in the most danger I've ever been in.

“Okay, but the one with the double buns on top of his head is hot and I want that one so i need you to take one for the team and go on a date with this man.”

“Is that your part of some deal you made?” you jokingly accuse her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, just go on a date with him.”

“You go on a date with him,” you huff and you leave her up front. To which that only lasts about fifteen minutes before she’s coming into the back room telling you some random guy is there fixing the doorbell and isn't taking ‘no’ for an answer..

You just roll your eyes.

Ellie just wants you to be happy, no matter the cost. And you think maybe she’s not weighing the cost as much as you are. Sure, you’d be under protection at all times but the fact that the protection needs to be there at all times means you’re in just as much danger. Which does not totally sit right with you, but he is very persistent. And fairly beautiful. But you have to think with your brain and not your vagina for once.

A few hours later, you’re rearranging the Pop section of records when the phone rings. Ellie picks up with her normal “Encore Records, this is Ellie,” a few seconds pass before you hear her speak again. “Hm, let me ask real fast she’s right here. Hey, Birdie, do you have a piano lesson available tonight at 6?”

“Humm, I think so, check in my calendar. Take it if I do, please!” you go back to putting the Ariana Grande records in order by year. You hear Ellie laugh with the customer on the phone before she hangs up, thanking them for their business. “So do I have a piano lesson at 6 now?”

“Yeah, said his son's name was Suguru and that he had been hounding him to learn piano from the lady at the big CD store.”

“His son sounds adorable! I’m looking forward to teaching him.” you smile at the thought.

“You just like the ego boost,” Ellie side eyes you with a laugh.

“You should try shutting up,” you chuckle, going back to arranging your floor inventory; moving to the Metal section.

Six rolls around and you’re pulling the sheet music you have for teaching beginners around on the stand. Ellie makes her way up front to gather her things, reaching under the counter and turning the lights down.

A huff leaves you, “Hey, I still have that piano lesson tonight.”

“I know,” she gives you a look, “Have the best time, Birdie,” and she’s out the door. Uh, okay?

Right after Ellie leaves, the doorbell sounds again and you turn to be met with Gojo.

“Gojo, i have a piano less–,” you pause, “There is no piano lesson for a boy named Suguru is there?”

“He’s Suguru,” Gojo motions behind him to the man who called about your doorbell earlier. “And I’m the one who’s here for the lesson.”

Seated at the bench next to him, you can't believe you’re actually going through with this. But if he hadn’t put a deposit down over the phone, you wouldn't have. Clearly Gojo and Ellie had cooked this scheme up somehow. You almost appreciate the effort.

“You don’t seem to need a lesson,” you remark, watching him mimic your motions without even trying.

“Would you be upset with me if I said I didn't?” He starts playing Forever Young on the piano, making your eyes widen.

“Not upset, confused,” your eyes are glued to his hands, fingers flowing effortlessly over the keys.

“Just wanted an excuse to talk to you for longer than a few minutes.” Gojo’s hands keep up the melody.

“You’re not going to let this up are you?” your eyes roll for the millionth time because of this man. He has a way of making your skin crawl in a good way. But again that’s something you’d never admit;

“After I heard that singing voice? Never,” he smiles over at you, continuing to play the song on the keys. “Will you show it to me again? Please, Birdie?”

“If I say yes will you stop asking to buy my grandfather's piano?” fat chance, but you’ll try anyway.

“Scouts honor,” he winks. Huh? That easy? “Or is he just that in love with you?” You can hear Ellie say in your head. Shut up.

As you begin singing along with his playing, Gojo’s smile grows in size. His hands and arms move effortlessly across the piano, fully impressing you as you watch in awe. The words flow out of you like they did earlier today.

Once you finish, Gojo looks at you like you just told him he’d won the lottery. Not that he needed to win the lottery. “You really have such an amazing voice,” he breathes out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’d call it a good harmonizing voice,” you chuckle. “I sound better with the radio.”

“I’m sorry, was I the only one with ears for the last three minutes? Sug? Cho?” he makes you chuckle next to him as he turns to the men behind him.

“I heard it Sir,” they both said in unison.

“And how did she sound?”

“Lovely, sir.” Suguru says, looking over to you with a friendly smile.

“I have to agree with Suguru,” Choso says, without a smile. He seems to be more of a hardass than the other one.

“Ah, so you are the delusional one here,” Gojo turns his attention back to you.

“Shut up. Lesson’s over,” you laugh.

“Aw, but I was just getting started. How about a date then? We can take the rest of this time somewhere else.”

“You would love that wouldn’t you?” leaves you in the form of a laugh.

“Certainly. Cmon, Y/N. I know the best place down the road. Whadya say?”

“I say you’re dreaming,” you stand from the piano bench. Walking over to the light switch, you turn the lights all the way up, making everyone wince at the sight. “And that it's time to wake up, Gojo.”

“I’ll make it so worth your while. Please, just once chance, That’s all I’m asking for,” he stands and makes his way over to you. “Please, Birdie.” he runs his thumb over your cheek, you lean into the touch before you realize what you’re doing.

“If I say yes and I have a horrible time, can I reserve the right to ask you to leave me alone permanently?”

“Of course. I’d swear on it to never show my face in here again. But I promise we won’t have to worry about that. So tonight then?”

“Not tonight, how about tomorrow? After I close for the night?’

“It’s a date,” He smiles. “I’ll pick you up,”

“You mean you’ll all pick me up?” you motion to the guys behind him.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “They’ll be around, but not with us. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Maybe you should have started with leaving them outside then,” you roll your eyes, “No offense, boys,”

“None taken,” they say in unison again. Gojo snaps his fingers and the men leave.

“You didn’t have to do that,” a chuckle leaves you again. You head for the door but Gojo softly grabs your arm.

“Leave em, I’m heading out anyways,” he slides his grip down your arm until he’s holding your hand, offering a kiss to your knuckles. “Until tomorrow, dear Birdie. He kisses your hand once again, turning to leave.

“B-bye, Gojo.”

“Satoru,”

“If you impress me, then maybe.”

♡ tags: @therealestpussyeater @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @semra4 @manyno @lostfracturess @starlostwish @h0nestly-though @celestie0 @username23345 @lulunx @sukunasdirtylaugh

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year

Text

Motorcycle Rides

Pairings: Sebastian x you

Wordcount: 1623

You limped out of the mine, your pack heavy with materials. That last bunch of slimes had really taken it out of you and as you’d realized your strength was depleting, you’d turned on your heels and ran, only to twist your ankle on a rock.

You leant heavily against the wall, trying to catch your breath in the cool night air. Truth be told, you’d lost all track of time in the mines and it was now just before midnight on a Tuesday for goodness’ sake. You’d hoped to get to bed at a decent time for once, despite your endless to-do list. You’d only meant to be in the mines an hour or two tops!

After your heart had stopped pounding, you reached down and tentatively prodded at your ankle before wincing at the pain. It was already swelling and that probably wasn’t a great sign. This was a situation you hadn’t considered before embarking on your new life in Pelican Town – what exactly do you do in an emergency? There was Harvey’s clinic, but that would involve limping down there and waking him up over your own stupidity.

If you were going to be limping anywhere, you might as well limp home. Heck, the town was gossiping about you enough, you didn’t want your midnight trip to the clinic to be their next topic. You took a deep breath and took a step – there was a sharp ache that immediately dulled, but it was tolerable? It had to be tolerable, you concluded, as you took another shuffling step. It might take you all night, but you were determined to get home.

It was slow, painful progress as you found yourself walking past the carpenter’s house.

“Farmer?”

You jumped from the voice, your ankle immediately twisting on its side and you fell flat to the ground on your back, groaning.

“Sorry…” a figure appeared above you, looking down with an apologetic smile. It was the carpenter’s son… Sebastian? “I didn’t think you’d be so jumpy with being out so late and all.”

“I… I guess I just thought everyone in this town was a bed by 10pm on a week night crowd.”

“Well, the majority are. Er…” He hesitated, almost as if he was debating something in his head before he offered his hand. “Can I help you up?”

“Thanks.” Truth be told, you weren’t sure how graceful you would be at getting up without his assistance, so you happily accepted. In a combination of not expecting him to be as strong as he was and your weakened ankle, you were ill-prepared for getting back to your own two feet. You nearly went falling back down when Sebastian caught you in his arms and you threw yours around his neck. From your glow ring, you could clearly see the black-haired man’s face had flushed red.

“Sorry, that’s us city folk”, you tried to make light of the situation. “We swoon at any country man.”

That didn’t seem to help as – you didn’t think it was possible – his face had gone even more red.

“Er… here,” he tilted you upright, trying to get you to stand on your own two feet. You tried to comply, but your ankle collapsed underneath you, the sharp jolt of pain bringing tears to your eyes. You grabbed hold of his upper arm in a fierce grip. “You all right there?”

“No… I-I’ve hurt my ankle,” you swallowed, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I was in the mines and I twisted it. I thought I could limp home on it but that seems like a really dumb idea.”

“Ah…” Sebastian mumbled. “Erm, should I wake Maru? She works at the clinic part-time, she’ll probably know what to do.”

“No, please don’t. People are talking about me enough without adding this to the mix. I’ll be okay. I’ll just… I’ll take five and then it’ll be okay. You should go home.”

“I mean, I don’t know exactly how things go down in Zuzu City, but I can’t exactly go to bed and leave you out here.”

“That’s exactly how things would go down in Zuzu City. You’re a natural.” You grimaced.

“Er…” Sebastian paused. “Wait, I think I’ve got an idea. Do you wanna sit?”

You blushed, before mumbling, “I don’t think I could with any sense of grace.”

“I got you,” an arm wrapped around your waist and helped you down towards the ground.

“Right, I’ll be back in a moment.” He turned and went to head back up to his house.

“Wait, Sebastian…” He spun on his heels and looked at you quizzically. “Thank you.”

He smiled shyly, before walking out of sight, swallowed by the darkness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when Sebastian eventually returned. There was a brief moment when you thought he wasn’t coming back. Maybe it was some sort of Pelican Town hazing… The black-haired man eventually reappeared, wheeling along a motorcycle in tow towards you before stopping.

“So, it’s not working reliably at the moment – I’ve been working on fixing it up. But I thought you could sit on it and I can wheel it along back to the farm? Means you can take the weight off your ankle and get home and ice it, I guess? Or heat. One of those.”

“Honestly, you don’t have to do this. It’s so late.” You protested, embarrassed that your antics had led to this.

“I’ll be up for hours yet anyway. Plus, I’m curious to see what you’ve done with the land and it’ll get you home – win-win.” He put the bike’s kick stand out to balance the machine, before crouching down and offering his hand again.

You hesitated. “Only if you’re really sure.”

“I’m positive. Come on.”

You took it, allowing him to pull you up fully this time and you made sure to let your uninjured leg take all the weight. “Hop on.” He kept a tight grip on your hand as you swung your injured leg over the seat and boosted yourself up onto it.

“Cool. Right, er, probably best if you hold onto the handles too.” You followed his instructions, and he leant over, positioning his hands next to yours before kicking the stand back in place. There was a momentary wobble before you found your balance and Sebastian moved forward, pushing it along up towards the path you knew would lead back to your farm.

“What were you doing out so late? Not that I’m complaining,” you quickly rectified.

“I got wrapped up in work and forgot to get out today. I thought I’d have the night to myself,” he teased. “Was that your first trip down the mines?”

“Oh, gosh, no. The Adventure’s Guild and Marlon gave me some tips and I think that was my fifth trip. I probably went down a bit too far for the equipment I have, but to get better equipment I need money and the mine’s good for making a quick buck. Crops take their sweet time…”

“Ah, makes sense.” He nodded.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a freelance programmer. It’s okay, it means I can choose my own work hours. I’m more productive later in the day, so…”

“Oh, really? That’s so cool.”

You fell into a companionable silence. Thankfully, it wasn’t a long walk back to the farm and Sebastian let out a whistle as he admired your work so far.

“Wow, this looks different.”

“A good different?” You frowned.

“Of course. You’ve been busy – this was all weeds and rocks the last time I was out here. What are you growing?”

“Just potatoes and turnips – they’ll be out of season soon but I should get another load out… if I can keep the crows at bay.”

He wheeled the motorcycle up to the bottom of your porch, eyeing the steps. “Er, do you want a hand up the stairs?”

“If you don’t mind…” You mumbled – you weren’t convinced hopping up them would be a winning formula. Sebastian put the kick stand back down, then assisted you off his motorcycle. He hooked an arm around your back, just under your armpits to steady you as you hopped towards the stairs, and then took a big leap up the first one as he kept your balance. You were extremely grateful there were only three stairs and you exhaled in relief now safely at your front door.

“Thank you so much, Sebastian. I wish there was something I could give you in return…” You trailed off as he began to protest, but then you remembered – there was that cool-looking mineral you’d found earlier… You dug around in your satchel, leaning heavily on your front door, until your fingers found the smooth surface.

You withdrew it and Sebastian’s eyes lit up. “A frozen tear?”

“Is that what it is? Some weird creature dropped it – I think it came from deeper down in the mines. I thought it must be special. I was going to take it to Gunther tomorrow to identify, but it seems you’re a fan, so, please…”, you pushed it into his hands, “Take it.”

“No, I couldn’t…”

“I insist.” You unlocked the door behind you before he could really protest. “Goodnight, Sebastian. And, hey, every time you look at it, you can remember the time you helped the idiot farmer home.”

“Goodnight…” He continued to stare at the mineral in his hands as he heard your door open and close, “But I’m totally going to remember the time I helped the cute farmer home.” He said that a little louder than he intended and blushed, glancing up to see your door firmly closed at least.

Fortunately, your window was open and you’d definitely heard.

#sebastian stardew x reader #drabbles #fluff writing #sebastian x reader #stardew imagines #stardew valley #sdv sebastian x reader #ghostdogwrites

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stylesispunk · 2 months

Text

"The not so invisible string" part 5

Not outbreak! Joel Miller x F! Reader

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other at the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count: 4k

warnings: angst, cheating, serious talk. "Doe" is her nickname. No proof reading haha

a/n: Hello! Here's chapter 5! I hope you like it, sorry for the all the wait, I've been dealing with some things. This one is more like a filler chapter and I'll be back with another one on Tuesday! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌 Remember my dms and asks are always open for you

dividers by @/saradika.

It has already been a week since you found out about Dwight’s family, and since then, you have not spoken to him. He had sent messages and had been calling you, begging you to let him explain himself. But you ignore them; instead, you initiated the divorce process with a lawyer, and you were waiting for this chapter of your life to finally be over. Even when you couldn’t bear the feeling of something you touched becoming ashes again, how a shame it was for you to be an insignificant target to fool.

The truth was that Dwight was a source of light entering through your window at some point. The very first night you met him, he was a gentleman, and he treated you well until he stopped. However, the unfaithful path he had chosen for the both of you was something you could not forgive. Your marriage was ending like all the other love stories you were part of.

And that was one of the worst parts of being an adult: having to pick up the broken pieces of you by yourself, save them in your pocket, and continue with your life because it doesn’t matter how exhausted you are or not; you have to continue because you are a woman and no little child is allowed to cry anymore.

During all this week, you had been staying at Joel’s house. He reassured me that it was okay for him to sleep on the couch and insisted that you take the bed. Joel had been acting as a supportive friend throughout this difficult situation, offering a listening ear whenever you needed to vent and a shoulder to cry on, but still, the string pulling you together was burning in your finger, and for him, it seemed okay to pretend that the kiss you almost gave him didn’t happen.

As you lay in bed one night, staring up at the ceiling, thoughts of Dwight and the life you had envisioned together flooded your mind. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness and betrayal, but deep down, you knew that you deserved better than someone who couldn't stay faithful.

After all, you thought you deserved it. You had been physically faithful to him, but you always knew your heart belonged to Joel since the moment you met him, and loving a man while staying married to another was another type of treason.

All wells end badly if they are built on lies.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

You almost dropped your cup of coffee when you heard Joel's voice saying your name.

"What?" You inquired, perplexed.

"I told you I'm leaving and taking the girls to school; are you coming?"

"No, I have to see Dwight in an hour," you said. Joel's face sank slightly at the mention of Dwight's name, as if poison had flowed from your lips. "You know, divorce things," you said somberly.

Joel nodded in agreement, although his expression revealed a tinge of anguish. "I understand," he replied softly. "Just remember, you don't have to go through this alone. I'm here for you, no matter what.

Touched by his constant support, you smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Joel. I sincerely appreciate everything you have done for me. And thank you for taking Tara to school."

As Joel gathered his belongings and prepared to go, you couldn't help but feel grateful for having him back in your life. Despite the distress you were experiencing, knowing you had someone like him by your side gave you the resilience to face whatever lay ahead.

With a deep breath, you prepared for the meeting with Dwight, reaffirming your courage and telling yourself that you deserved better than the pain he had caused you. And as you saw Joel leaving, you couldn't help but feel like the story was repeating itself, as if you weren't deserving of permanent love.

The mood at the lawyer's office, where you sat across from Dwight, was strained. The air seemed heavy with unspoken thoughts and repressed feelings. Dwight squirmed uneasily in his seat, avoiding your gaze and fidgeting with the papers in front of him.

You took a deep breath, ready for the talk that needed to take place. "Dwight," you said, your voice firm but laced with bitterness, "we both understand why we're here. "This marriage... is over."

Dwight finally caught your stare, and you could feel the guilt and regret in his eyes. "I know," he replied softly, just above a whisper. "I messed up, and I apologize. I don't expect you to forgive me, but just know that I didn't mean to hurt you."

Your heart was crushed at his words, but you knew forgiveness would never come. "Yeah, I bet you didn't mean to have a child with another woman," you responded, your tone strict. "But apologies are not going to fix the damage already done. We need to move forward with the divorce, and I want you to tell Tara about your child."

Dwight nodded, a sense of resignation washing over him. "I understand," he replied, his voice full of remorse. "I will sign any paper that is required and won't disagree with it. I only want you to be happy, even if it is without me."

As you left the lawyer's office, without saying a word to him, Dwight turned to you with an eager expression in his eyes. "Can I have Tara over for dinner tonight?" he requested cautiously. "I want to tell her the truth and start making amends."

You hesitated for a moment, considering your alternatives. Regardless of the hurt and betrayal, you believed Tara deserved to know the truth about her father. And perhaps, by confronting the truth together, you would be able to repair the wounds that have been done to your family.

You sighed and nodded, an overwhelming feeling of conviction coming over you. "Yes, Dwight," you replied gently. "You can have Tara over for tonight.

Dwight nodded, a thankful smile flashing over his lips. "Thank you," he replied genuinely. "I won't let you down."

"I don't trust you, and if you make my daughter cry, I will fucking kill you, Dwight." You spoke with a steely tone to emphasize the importance of your warning.

Dwight's smile faded as he gulped and nodded his head. "I know I've let you both down," he muttered gently, his expression gloomy. "But I swear, I'll do everything I can to make things right. "I love Tara and would never do anything to hurt her."

You kept his stare for a minute, looking for any sign of sincerity. You slowly nodded, accepting his words with cautious apprehension. "But you did," you responded, your tone softening slightly. "Tara deserves nothing less than your best. "You are her father; act like one."

Dwight nodded firmly; his expression full of purpose. "I won't let you down," he said, his voice full of tenacity.

With a final nod, you turned and walked away, an avalanche of emotions spinning inside you. While you couldn't ignore the pain and treachery he'd caused you, you couldn't resist the flicker of optimism washing over you.

"Hey, pretty lady, can you help me with something?" Tommy spoke while reaching over to your desk.

"What is it?" you asked, in an unnecessarily harsh tone, as Tommy lifted his gaze to meet the sadness in your eyes and laid his papers aside.

"Okay. What's wrong?" He asked, concerned.

"Nothing but a soon-to-be divorce," you responded, faking a smile as if you had said something amusing, but Tommy did not laugh or smile.

"What?" you asked. "Okay, I'm kind of stressed with some things."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he replied quietly, his voice full of sympathy. "If you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you."

You felt a rush of gratitude rush over you after Tommy's offer of support.

Despite the facade you had been trying to keep up, the weight of recent events had taken its toll, and it felt good to finally share your burden with someone else.

"Is it because of my brother, or not? What about his date tonight?"

"Joel has a date tonight." you said, your heart cracking slightly.

Tommy's face furrowed with worry as he noticed your reaction. "Yes, he mentioned it earlier. He said he was going out with someone he had recently met."

The news made your heart sink as a range of emotions swirled inside you. "Oh," was all you could say, attempting to cover up the twinge of pain that stabbed your chest.

Tommy sensed a shift in your attitude, and his expression softened with understanding. "I'm sorry, I thought you knew since you are staying at his house."

"It's okay, Tommy," you said, attempting a forced smile.

However, it was not okay.

Not long after that, Joel came to the office door, ready to go, and drew your attention with a glance around the room. Without saying anything, he gestured for Tommy to join him, and the two of them rushed toward the exit.

You couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment as you observed them leave together, a reminder that you'd also lost him along the way.

As they approached the door, Joel paused and returned his gaze to you, his face softening as he did so, and despite the hurt and confusion whirling inside you, you managed to muster a small, strained smile in response.

"See you later," Joel murmured, his tone tinged with concern.

You nodded in answer, attempting to cover up the chaos that was growing within you. "See you," you said, the words seeming flat on your tongue.

Joel and Tommy disappeared in just one glance, leaving you alone in the office with your thoughts.

Maybe it was time for you to move on, leave his house, and even leave this town.

As the night fell, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, the events of the day weighing heavily on your mind. The sound of the door opening pulled you from your reverie, and you looked up to see Joel entering the house.

"Hey," he greeted you, his voice warm but tinged with concern as he noticed the somber expression on your face. "How was your day?"

You forced a smile, trying to mask the turmoil brewing inside you. "It was alright," you replied vaguely, avoiding his gaze.

Joel furrowed his brows, sensing that something was amiss. "Where are the girls?”

“Uhm. Sarah is upstairs doing homework”

“And Tara?" he asked, his tone filled with curiosity.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "She's at Dwight's," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's expression tensed slightly at the mention of Dwight's name, a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes before he composed himself. "Oh," was all he said, his voice neutral.

A heavy silence settled between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Sensing the tension, you took a deep breath and decided to break the silence.

"So, uh, how was your date?" you asked, trying to sound casual despite the knot of jealousy tightening in your chest.

Joel's brows furrowed in confusion, his eyes searching yours for any hint of jest. "Date?" he echoed; his voice tinged with surprise.

Your heart sank at his reaction, realizing that perhaps you had misunderstood or misheard earlier. "Yeah, Tommy mentioned it,” you explained, trying to keep your tone light despite the growing unease in your stomach.

As you mentioned Tommy's observation, Joel's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. “There was no date; I was actually still working at this dude’s house.”

“Then why did he? you began.

“Were you jealous?” he interrupted

You paused, caught off guard by Joel's interruption. The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. Your heart raced as you considered how to respond, unsure whether to admit the truth or deflect his inquiry.

"I... I don't know," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Would it be bad? I mean, would it be that bad for me to have a date?” he teased, smirking at you.

Joel's teasing tone caught you off guard, and you felt a range of emotions rushing up inside you. Part of you wanted to dismiss his inquiry with a casual reply, while another part wanted to express how sensitive you are and hurt.

"Maybe" you said, your voice tinged with sorrow.

Joel's humorous tone faded when he understood the importance of his words. He reached out and gently grabbed your hand, and you automatically retreated, feeling a flash of weakness and uneasiness. His gaze shifted, and his eyes showed fear.

"I think that it's better if I go to stay at my parents' house." You said, a lump developing in your throat as you battled to hold back your tears.

"I think it's better if I go to stay at my parents' house." You announced, a lump growing in your throat as you tried to hold back tears. "I just... I need some space right now," you explained, your voice trembling with passion. "I need time to think about my feelings and figure things out."

He chuckled gently. "I think you're being dramatic." Joel's giggle broke the tension, leaving you taken aback and irritated. The lump in your throat became bigger as tears welled up in your eyes, and your heart ached from the burden of his words.

"You don't understand," you exclaimed, your voice shaking with emotion.

"Then make me!" he exclaimed. "I thought you were going to be happier without him, but it seems like you're just a gosht."

"Oh my god, I'm sorry for being sad over the fact that the man I was married to for the last years of my life built another family behind my back as if I were nothing!"

"Dwight doesn't deserve you; he never did," Joel said.

As Joel's remarks hung in the air, a tight silence fell over the room, interrupted only by the sound of your heavy breathing. His attempts to lighten the situation had only deepened the wound in your heart, leaving you feeling even more alone and misunderstood than before.

The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally let loose, running down your cheeks in silent streams as you battled to control yourself. Joel's words were like a punch in the face, a burning reminder of the treason and heartache you'd experienced at Dwight's hands.

"Oh, and who deserves me then?" You said, "Tell me; I want to know."

Joel just stated, "Someone better,” deep down knowing it was him.

"Like you?" you questioned.

"You can trust me," he reassured.

"No, I can't because I don't know you!" you stated.

"I'm the same Joel you met," he said back, trying to stop the storm from coming between you both.

"The one who became a ghost or broke my heart? Which one?" you demanded, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Look, I understand you are afraid of things, but if you think I'm going to say I wish I could get back in time and regret having my daughter for one second, you're crazy." He merely pointed out,

You chuckled as tears flowed down your cheeks. You tried to wipe them away, attempting to remain calm as you stared at Joel, hoping for some form of understanding.

"I never wanted you to regret having Sarah," you replied quietly, your voice tinged with sadness. “I know she's the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Joel's face softened in reaction to your words, with an instant of guilt running through his eyes as he saw the pain on your face. He reached out carefully, his hand gliding in the air between you as a silent gesture of comfort and understanding.

As Joel's palm finally touched yours, a sense of warmth and connection poured over you, spanning the gap that had threatened to separate you. In that moment, you sensed a glimmer of joy and a fresh belief in the possibilities of mending and healing.

"I know," Joel said quietly, his voice full of honesty. "And I am grateful for her every day. But that doesn't change how I feel about you or us. He paused. "Actually, there's something I need to confess."

"What do you mean?" you inquired, your tone barely above a whisper.

Joel took a long breath, his gaze never leaving yours as he began speaking. "Do you remember those nights I was working late? I wasn't only working, Doe. I was saving money."

Confusion flared in your eyes as you attempted to process his words. "Save money? For what?"

"For a ring," Joel said, his voice full of remorse and vulnerability. "I was planning to propose to you."

The air in your lungs became still as Joel's words sank in. Joel had kept this secret from you all these years, while you were struggling with self-esteem issues.

Tears welled in your eyes. "Did you buy before I left that night we broke?" you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He nodded. "I wanted everything to be perfect," Joel confessed, his eyes filled with grief. "But then... things got complicated." "And I thought... I thought I had lost my chance with you."

"But you let me go," you stated, sounding weak due to the weight of your words, heavy with the distress of the past.

Joel's face softened, and his eyes reflected the grief that filled his heart. "I know, and I'll always regret that," he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

His eyebrows seemed to furrow with remorse as he took a look at your intense stare. "I was a coward," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I let my fear control me, and in doing so, I lost the most important thing I had in my life."

The vulnerability in Joel's admission resonated with the ache in your own heart. For years, you had carried the weight of his absence, wondering what could have been if only he had been brave enough to fight for you.

"I should have fought for us," Joel continued, his gaze locked with yours. "But I was too afraid of losing you, so I let you slip away."

“I need space, Joel,” you said. “And I deserve to be loved, so I’m not going to follow you or anybody else unless you show me that.”

Joel's shoulders sagged with the weight of your words, his eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and understanding. "I understand," he whispered, his voice heavy with remorse. "You deserve to be loved, and I've failed you in that regard."

As you spoke, a sense of clarity washed over you, a realization that you owed it to yourself to prioritize your own healing and well-being. You had spent too long waiting for someone else to validate your worth, and now you were ready to take control your choices.

"I won't ask you to follow me," Joel replied, his tone filled with resignation. "But I hope that someday I can show you the love and respect you deserve."

As you walked downstairs, the weight of your decision weighed heavily on your shoulders. Each step seemed like a bitter reminder of the past and an uncertain future. But with every stride, you felt a fresh resolution grow within you—a drive to reclaim control of your own life.

When you reached the bottom of the steps, you paused to collect your thoughts before heading toward the door. The sound of your footsteps echoed in the still room, providing an abrupt contrast to the turbulent emotions racing within you.

However, as you reached for the doorknob, a voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Doe, wait."

You turned to see Joel standing in the doorway, his expression full of anguish.

You turned to see Joel standing in the doorway, his expression full of anguish. His eyes pleaded with you, silently begging for the opportunity to set things right.

"I need to go," you replied, just above a whisper. "I cannot stay here, Joel."

Joel took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I understand," he replied, his voice tinged with regret. "You need space, but I have to tell you this before."

You hesitated, divided between the urge to leave and the need to hear Joel's words. With a disturbed heart, you nodded, quietly encouraging him to speak.

"I made a mistake that night," Joel said, his voice shaking with emotion. "I should've fought for you, Doe. I should have told you how much you meant to me instead of letting you leave."

You broke down in tears when you heard Joel's confession. For years, you had felt the weight of his absence, wondering if things could have turned out differently if he had been brave enough to fight for you.

"I'm sorry," Joel said quietly, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry for letting you go." He breathed in. "So that's why I'm doing this now."

“What?” you asked.

You furrowed your brow, attempting to make sense of his captivating comment. Before you could utter another word, Joel closed the distance between you, his movements swift yet gentle.

In an instant, his lips touched yours in a delicate kiss—a muttered plea for forgiveness and a promise of reconciliation. The world around you appeared to fade away as the warmth of his touch embraced you, washing away the layers of doubt and uncertainty that had tortured your heart for so long.

Joel knew words weren’t enough for you right now, and this swift action was the only way he found to pour and show all the love and promises he couldn’t save those years, being sealed in this very right moment.

Not letting you go this time was his first attempt to bring you back and offer you the life and love you deserved.

For a little moment, time stood still, and all that mattered was what you shared with Joel—a bond that transcended through the years.

Joel pulled away, his gaze fixed on yours, looking for any sign of recognition. His breath merged with yours, stealing what he believed was his. A silent exchange of emotions spoke volumes without the use of words.

"I can't let you go," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not again, please stay with me," he pleaded, holding your face with his hands.

Joel's words lingered heavily in the air, echoing his desperation and need. You noticed a genuine desperation in his request, one that mirrored your own. You had ached for reassurance of his love for so long, and now as he stood before you, baring his soul, you couldn't resist the pull of your heart toward him.

"I don't want to leave," you said, just above a whisper. "But I need to know that this time is different, Joel. I need to know if you are willing to fight for us."

Joel nodded; his eyes full of purpose. "I am," he declared, his voice filled with passion. "I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us, to prove to you that you're the one I want, now and always."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you met Joel's soulful gaze and noticed the depth of his love and honesty reflected in you. You lifted your hand while taking in the warmth of his face under your fingertips.

Feeling the warmth of Joel's touch under your fingertips, you took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Despite the overwhelming rush of love and longing, you knew that you needed time to process everything that had happened—to settle the chaos in your heart and mind.

"I need time," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. "Time to process everything that's happened, time to heal, and time to figure out what I want."

Joel's expression softened, and his gaze filled with understanding. "I understand," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. "Take all the time you need, baby. I'll be here waiting for you, I promise.”

Sarah

“Guys, it worked! They talked things out!”

Tara

No way! Seriously?

Tommy

So, my lie worked? What happened?

Sarah

They kissed! My dad is over the moon!

Tara

OMG, really?! I can't believe it!

Tommy

Wow, I didn't think our little plan would actually work.

Sarah

We just needed to give them a little push.

Tommy

We? I lied for you little girls.

Tara

I'm so happy for them. They belong together.

Tommy

Yeah, they do. Let's just hope they figure things out soon.

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @missladym1981 @yomiyasxx @aliengirl99 @lola8888673 @nottodaysattan @picketniffler @violinchick @sadgirlcheesecake @caitlynsixxx @luvwanda @sarahhxx03

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afeelgoodblog · 1 year

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The Best News of Last Year

1. Belgium approves four-day week and gives employees the right to ignore their bosses after work

Workers in Belgium will soon be able to choose a four-day week under a series of labour market reforms announced on Tuesday.

The reform package agreed by the country's multi-party coalition government will also give workers the right to turn off work devices and ignore work-related messages after hours without fear of reprisal.

"We have experienced two difficult years. With this agreement, we set a beacon for an economy that is more innovative, sustainable and digital. The aim is to be able to make people and businesses stronger," Belgian prime minister Alexander de Croo told a press conference announcing the reform package.

2. Spain makes it a crime for pro-lifers to harass people outside abortion clinics

Spain has criminalized the harassment or intimidation of women going for an abortion under new legislation approved on Wednesday by the Senate. The move, which involved changes to the penal code, means anti-abortion activists who try to convince women not to terminate their pregnancies could face up to a year behind bars.

3. House passes bill to federally decriminalize marijuana

The House has voted with a slim bipartisan majority to federally decriminalize marijuana. The vote was 220 to 204.

The bill, sponsored by Democratic Rep. Jerry Nadler of New York, will prevent federal agencies from denying federal workers security clearances for cannabis use, and will allow the Veterans’ Administration to recommend medical marijuana to veterans living with posttraumatic stress disorder.

The bill also expunges the record of people convicted of non-violent cannabis offenses, which House Majority Leader Steny Hoyer said, “can haunt people of color and impact the trajectory of their lives and career indefinitely.”

4. France makes birth control free for all women under 25

The scheme, which could benefit three million women, covers the pill, IUDs, contraceptive patches and other methods composed of steroid hormones.

Contraception for minors was already free in France. Several European countries, including Belgium, Germany, the Netherlands and Norway, make contraception free for teens.

5. The 1st fully hydrogen-powered passenger train service is now running in Germany. The only emissions are steam & condensed water.

Five of the trains started running in August. Another nine will be added in the coming months to replace 15 diesel trains on the regional route. Alstom says the Coradia iLint has a range of 1,000 kilometers, meaning that it can run all day on the line using a single tank of hydrogen. A hydrogen filling station has been set up on the route between Cuxhaven, Bremerhaven, Bremervörde and Buxtehude.

6. Princeton will cover all tuition costs for most families making under $100,000 a year, after getting rid of student loans

In September, the New Jersey Ivy League school announced it would be expanding its financial aid program to offer free tuition, including room and board, for most families whose annual income is under $100,000 a year. Previously, the same benefit was offered to families making under $65,000 a year. This new income limit will take effect for all undergraduates starting in the fall of 2023.

Princeton was also the first school in the US to eliminate student loans from its financial aid packages.

7. Humpback whales no longer listed as endangered after major recovery

Humpback whales will be removed from Australia's threatened-species list, after the government's independent scientific panel on threatened species deemed the mammals had made a major recovery. Humpback whales will no longer be considered an endangered or vulnerable species.

Climate change and fishing still pose threats to their long-term health.

Some other uplifting news from last year:

A Cancer Trial’s Unexpected Result: Remission in Every Patient

California 100 percent powered by renewables for first time

Israel formally bans LGBTQ conversion therapy

Tokyo Passes Law to Recognize Same-Sex Partnerships

First 100,000 KG Removed From the Great Pacific Garbage Patch

As we ring in the New Year let’s remember to focus on the good news. May this be a year of even more kindness and generosity. Wishing everyone a happy and healthy 2023!

Thank you for following and supporting this g this newsletter

Buy me a coffee ❤️

#best news of last week

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mochimooon · 6 months

Text

DTF Only (Let's Experiment) - connie springer x reader 18+

pairing: Connie Springer x afab! Reader summary: Connie invites you to a kick-back for some playtime ;) word count: 3500+ notes: Part 4 of DTF Only. My first piece with Connie, don't know what took me so long to write for him because this was more fun than I thought ! I need to write more of him. (Indented text refers to Reader's messages). Thank you to those who gave me ideas of what kind of tattoos Connie would have on this post. I appreciate the inspo! warnings: smut, explicit content, explicit language, handjobs, vaginal sex ☻ masterpost☻

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!

You declined Reiner’s offer to stay over. He was still kind of enough to drive you home afterwards. While you had fun with him, you didn’t want to make it awkward for him when he had to check out of the hotel.

Exhausted, you collapse onto your bed after your nighttime routine, reopening Tinder before you go to sleep.

A new message from another match came through a few hours earlier.

Hey there!!!!! What’s up? Wanna hang?

Tapping on Connie’s profile, you see that he’s currently active.

The enthusiasm is nice, but you take the time to assess his profile and pictures like you did with Reiner and Porco.

Light brown hair, kept on the shorter side, cartilage piercings on one ear, and as seen in every photo, a tattoos along his arm. You can’t make out what they are, however. He’s another cutie. You always knew you had good taste as far looks go.

Judging from the pictures, he’s a musician, whether professional or amateur, you don’t know, seated behind a drum set with a video of him in action. The clashing of symbols and beating of drums echo loudly in your room and you can tell he’s got a lot of energy. He’s twenty-eight, so that could explain the spunk.

Switching over to his bio, you laugh.

Drummer 🥁 420 friendly 5’9”, sorry ladies, but God put the extra inches elsewhere 😉

Hey Connie In bed but would like to hang out some time Free this week?

Hey!!! I’m free rn!!! I’m a great cuddler 😉

Good to know lol

Jk You doing anything tomorrow night? My friend is hosting a kick-back, come by!

A party? On a Tuesday night? Connie’s friends must be an interesting bunch.

Haha kinda My friends have weird schedules, so we end up meeting randomly during the week A couple people, nothing wild, what do you say? Be my guest? 😁

You see no harm in it, and if you do end up sleeping with Connie, there’s a guarantee that you’ll have a room.

Yesssss!!!! It starts at 7:30p Here’s my number btw, I can send you the address through there.

You debate whether you want to exchange numbers right away.

Alright, just sent you a text.

Connie abandons the conversation on Tinder, replying via his number.

Nice! Can’t wait to meet you Anyways…what’re you wearing to bed?

Good night

…

You can hear the music playing faintly on the other side of the door, so you ring the doorbell after knocking to ensure that someone will answer.

It swings open a minute later, and you’re met with a confused looking man with blond hair.

I can never escape the blond men, you muse, straining a smile.

“Hi…” Your eyes peek over the man’s frame for any sign of Connie. “Connie invited me.”

He tilts his head, thinking for a moment when it clicks. “Oh! Oh, yeah, he said you’re coming.” He says your name and you confirm with a nod. “Cool, come inside—”

“Is she here?” a voice rings out, an octave higher than the music.

Connie sidles to the blond man, skidding to a stop like an eager dog, greeting you. “Hi! Thanks for coming by! Come in, come in, this is Niccolo by the way, it's his house.”

You and Niccolo exchange an awkward wave as you step inside, allowing Connie to slide his arm along your shoulders.

In person, his hair is a little longer, on the scruffy side; you think it suits him best, and up close you get a better look at the piercings on his ear. He’s got a total of three. He’s wearing a long-sleeve, flannel overshirt, so his tattoos are hidden from view, however you notice a small smiley tattoo peeking behind the shell of his ear.

And as he eagerly leads you through the home, asking in earnest about your day, practically skipping at your side, you’re endeared by him. He’s really cute.

The kick-back is mainly in the living room, although you did see a couple of people trickle in and out of the kitchen. Connie reels you over to the couch where a small group of friends are mingling.

“Guess who’s here in the flesh!” Connie calls their attention, squeezing your shoulder with excitement. He introduces you to each friend.

“Onyankopon,” Connie says.

You take the friendly man’s hand, recognizing him in at least one of Connie’s pictures. “Hi.”

He smiles. “Good to meet you. Connie’s been excited all night.”

“Has he?” You look to the man at your side.

Connie beams with an affirmative nod, and you breathe a laugh at that.

“Same here,” you say.

“That’s Sasha and that’s Yelena.” Connie points to two women, rolling up a spliff. “Sasha’s Niccolo’s sweetheart.” Connie lowers his voice to your ear, like it’s a secret. “And over here…”

You’re paraded around like a shiny, new toy, but you can tell it’s well-meaning. As for his friends, they’re all friendly, seizing a chance at small talk with you before Connie intervenes to introduce you to more people.

From the amount of guests, you met within the first hour, you gathered that Connie’s a popular guy, and it’s easy to see why.

He’s so friendly with everyone, eager to have you feel welcomed that you’re content just being there. But you’d be remiss to say that you didn’t want to see more of him in private.

“You’re really cute by the way,” Connie says as you both take a seat on the couch. “I told everyone that you were.”

“Thanks, Connie,” you say. “How do you know everyone?”

Sasha hands Connie the rolled spliff. He digs into the pocket of his jeans to light the end.

“Would you like a hit?” he asks. You let him know you’ll take one later, and he explains that he and Sasha have been friends since high school and that when she started dating Niccolo, he and Onyankopon needed a drummer for their band.

“We mainly play at bars for now,” Onyankopon supplies.

Connie nods after he takes a long pull. “Most of us work during the day so it works out best for us.”

“You ever date a musician before?” Sasha pipes up.

You look to Connie with a grin. “Never have.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky to have matched with Connie,” Niccolo laughs.

“I think so too,” you confirm, admiring Connie’s features. While not a typical date, you’re fine with the laid-back environment.

“Drummers are the best kinds to date.” Connie throws in. “We have the most energy, on and off the stage.” His brows wiggle.

The chemistry is so natural, it flows between you both.

“I want to witness more of the off-stage energy.”

Connie bites his lip, scooting closer.

Your knees bump. Connie stretches an arm, lacking any subtlety, a gesture ripped from a teen movie. He feigns a yawn, hand coming around, stopping short above your breast.

Without preamble, your hand slides into his thigh.

Connie stiffens, coughing up smoke into his elbow. The whole room watches him with amusement, and you snatch up the spliff to take a long pull.

“You good there, Connie?” you ask, innocuous, letting the smoke escape your lips in a stream.

Connie clears his throat. “Uh huh.”

Tilting your head, you give him a playful look. “You sure?”

“He’s got an erection,” Niccolo points out with a snort.

The others exchange humored looks but don’t tease poor Connie further.

You, on the other hand can’t help yourself, bringing the end of the spliff to Connie’s lips.

For a moment, he’s taken aback, still distracted with the frustration between his legs. When he notices you’ve leaned closer, he bites the end of the spliff, taking a drag, eyes glued to yours. You both smile, reading the others’ mind, inching closer together. You open your mouth to meet his, accepting the stream of smoke and the slide of Connie’s tongue.

It's soft, something you didn’t expect. For a moment, you’re lost in the feel of his lips, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth, sampling each other’s taste. Your hand sinks deeper between his legs, brushing against a bulge tightening underneath his jeans the same time fingers trail downwards, ghosting your breast.

Someone clears their throat.

You and Connie freeze, open mouths awkwardly hovering each other’s, both turning.

Niccolò and Onyankopon share knowing looks, and it’s the former who shakes his head at Connie.

Connie pulls away suddenly, releasing a relaxed laugh. “Oh, um…” He reaches for your hand on his lap. “I…I wanted to show you something…”

Along with Niccolò and Onyankopon, you stifle your laughter at Connie’s attempt at being slick. But you humor him anyways.

“Oh, uh huh?”

Connie nods, getting to his feet, a grin splitting his mouth. “Yeah…it’s upstairs.” He tugs your hand.

This time you can’t hold back your amusement. “Okay, show me what it is upstairs.”

Connie’s smile broadens, squeezing your hand that your pulse hitches. He drags you off.

“Connie—please don’t make a mess—”

You hear Niccolo’s voice ring out, but there’s a tone of defeat there, and you throw a brief look over your shoulder as an apology ahead of time.

Upstairs, it’s quiet, not a soul around. Connie rushes towards the nearest door by the second-floor landing and enters like it’s somewhere he’s been many times before.

The door clicks shut, you and Connie are on each other, lips and teeth clashing, roaming hands like teenagers.

Clothes fall away in a tornado. Moans echo between breathless kisses.

Connie reels back first, hands on your shoulders. His gaze drags up and down your nude body.

“Shit.” He nods again more eagerly. “You’re really something. Fucking smoke show.”

You had taken the chance to admire his body as well. Strong, lean arms, muscles flexing with every movement, and you’re finally graced with a look of his mysterious tattoos on his arm.

They vary in size, but nothing too big. A magic eight-ball, a cassette tape, some odd, geometric shape, spaced around his shoulder. A spade, a melting ice cream cone, a drum—Hello Kitty...littered along his bicep.

Trailing your hands along it, you tilt your head, curious. “What’s the story behind this one?”

Connie hitches a laugh. “No real story just got it after a gig one night. Tattoo artist said she’d do it for free if I let her pick. Most of these I got at random.”

On his forearm, there’s a larger tattoo of a bull, detailed with a backdrop of a crescent moon and toadstools. “A bull?”

Connie hums. “Yeah, I’m a Taurus, and I like that zodiac stuff. Plus, I’m strong like a bull.” On cue, he flexes his forearm, and you feel the muscle tighten at your fingertips.

“I like it.” Your eyes drift from his arm to the rest of his body. A lean torso, rising and falling with quick breaths, a toned stomach that plunges into a deep V, his dick swings, happy, erect, and inviting.

You reach for it.

Connie bristles at the contact, grinning as you stroke the shaft. Together you watch his dick twitch as you brush the tip with your thumb.

“Ooohh, that’s the spot…” He shivers. “You’re gonna make me go apeshit before I get a chance to fuck you, huh?” Peering up, he wiggles his eyebrows, and you snort.

He’s so lighthearted, it’s refreshing. Of course, you don’t mind seduction, the mind fuck, or even shameless vulgarity. But sex should be fun too. Connie’s just eager to get laid, and you can’t fault him for being open and honest about that.

He steps closer, chasing after your touch for more stimulation. “Keep going. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for your pussy—respectfully.” He adds the last part with a grin.

And you continue to stroke him, hand moving in stride as he approaches you, taking your face in his hands.

Leaning his head down, he whispers into your lips. “You know how to make a guy feel…”

His tongue slides past, moving along yours in an uneven rhythm. You both laugh, trying again, but it remains sloppy and frivolous that you don’t complain.

He makes light of it with his everlasting humor. “Making out with someone new can be a little trial and error, but we improvise…” He groans again, lifting his chin, head thrown back.

You’ve picked up the pace, thumbing the tip of his dick with more pressure, precum dribbles into your fist. “Does this feel nice, Connie?”

“Real nice…your hand is so soft…”

You stroke him for another minute, exchanging more heated kisses. His hands travel to your chest, palming your breasts, and swirling his thumbs around your nipples.

You whimper, sensitive to the touch, inhaling Connie’s chuckle.

“Someone likes it when I do this, eh?” His thumbs move faster, orbiting your nipples. He pinches one, pleasure radiating to your center.

“Connie…”

He pulls away, taking your wrist to stop you. Most of the color in his eyes have been swallowed by his pupils. “I want to try something. Alright with you if we experiment?”

Your brows furrow. With the warm throb between your legs, however, you nod.

Connie’s smile brightens like a Christmas tree. With your wrist in his hand, he leads you to the bed.

You settle your knees onto the mattress, inwardly apologizing to Niccolo for what you and Connie are about to do.

Before he joins you on the bed, Connie’s eyes go blank. He spins around, crouching to fish through his discarded jeans. He pulls out a condom.

“Safety first. But if you want to raw-dog it…”

You smile, shaking your head. “Safety first.”

Connie’s quick with the condom, rolling it down his shaft and hopping on the bed, rolling back on his haunches. “Okay, this position I want to try out is a little unorthodox.”

You frown. “Go on…”

Connie falls back, catching himself on his elbows. He gestures you to come closer. “Now first, lay on top of me, on your back.”

Sliding over, your legs crawl atop his, your center dampening as you nudge his dick. Head nestled below his chin, you crane a look up. “Okay…”

“This is the unorthodox part.” Connie’s hands roam to your side, lifting you up. “I want you to hold yourself up on your arms with your back arched, kind of like you’re draping over me.”

You lift off his chest, but pause, trying to grasp what he wants you to do. Arched back? Draped? An image pops into your brain and you lift your body off Connie’s, arms rooting on either side of him. You bow your back in a backwards arch, head hanging.

“Like this?” You strain to say, arms trembling. He’s right this is an unorthodox position.

“Just like that. Now…I’m going to fuck into you this way. Okay?”

“Uh…okay.”

The bedsheets rustle beneath you, fingers tickling your sides, you almost fall.

“Whoa, I got you.” Connie’s hands stabilize you. “Alright. You look fucking great like this by the way.”

The drag of his dick along your pussy catches you off guard. You flinch a little, hips bucking up.

“Baby don’t run from it.” Connie’s whine softens with laughter. “It just needs a special kind of hug…” A nudge punctuates along your folds.

You smile up at the ceiling, steadying your legs to give Connie better access. “Right, sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Connie lines up again, hands grasping onto your ribcage. “It’ll feel good, scout’s honor!”

His dick rubs along your pussy, gathering the slick drooling down your thighs. He grunts beneath you, the tip of his dick twitches, and you know he can’t stave off for much longer. To be fair, neither can you, not in the position he has you in.

Connie manages to hold you up without so much strain, you’re unable to hold back your surprise. He wasn’t kidding when he said he had the strength of a bull.

“You’re really strong.”

You catch the hearty, earnest laugh behind you, shivering from the tip of his dick lining up with your entrance.

“Thanks! If you’re impressed with that, baby, you’ll love my stamina. You ready?”

Although your head hangs backwards, you manage a meager nod. “Uh huh.”

Connie lifts his hips up, pushing into your pussy in a slow, deep stroke.

It’s an odd feeling, like you’ve gotten impaled, but you like it… And because you can’t watch his dick go in, you focus on the sensation of being filled. He pulls out and repeats the action, a gradual build for you to acclimate to this position.

“What do you think of that, eh?”

Eyes trained on the ceiling, you wish you could get a better look at Connie’s face, laughing at the humor in his voice, his playful spunk turning you on more than you imagined it would.

“It’s a new angle for me, Connie,” you grunt when he thrusts deeper. “Time to show off that stamina.”

Hands dig into the arch of your back to keep you steady. “Say less, beautiful!”

He thrusts up, hips smacking against your ass.

You feel him deeper, fucking into you with stride, projecting a low moan to fall with your head thrown back. Blood rushes to your head, but you don’t notice the discomfort, pussy throbbing, fluttering around Connie’s dick.

“Shiiiiiiiit—you feel fucking—wonderful—” Connie grunts between each snap of his hips. “So warm—so tight—”

His hips clap against your ass, bouncing off the walls. You arch your back further, adjusting your position a bit to lower yourself to Connie’s cock without seating on him entirely.

“Ooooooh! Even better!” Connie rasps, picking up the pace.

His grip tightens at your sides with bruising pressure, but you don’t mind it, relishing in the way his cock drives deeper into you; the tip prodding the spongy spot inside.

You shut your eyes, only aware of the way Connie fucks into you over and over again, sparks of pleasure burning warmer with each thrust.

“Fuck…Connie…” Your moan is heavy with passion. Goosebumps prick your scorching skin as you feel your body foreshadowing your release.

“Ha—I’m loving this too, baby.”

Your thighs spread apart, wanting to pull him in more if it’s possible. Oh! From the way your pussy flutters around Connie’s dick, it’s very possible.

You wonder if you look as sexy as you feel. Hardened nipples facing the ceiling, back bowed in a deep arch, flexing the column of your throat, every gasp falling out like a waterfall. It’s amazing what shapes the body can take, enticing to know the various positions that offer pleasure.

Connie makes good on that stamina. The momentum builds and you want it to last for as long as possible, despite the dizziness in your head. For a while, you don’t notice anything except Connie fucking into you, the fullness of his length stretching you out. Every muscle in your body works to keep you steady, but you tend to skip arm day at the gym, therefore you’re not that strong. Your arms tremble. You claw at the sheets to help anchor you in place.

“Feeling sore?” Connie rasps.

“A little, my arms are getting tired.”

Connie offers you a solution. “It’s okay, let yourself fall to my chest—I’ll take care of the rest.” He continues to fuck you while you decide.

“Ah—are you—sure?” Words strain in your throat.

“Yeah, yeah,” he breathes. “Lay on my chest, I got you, it’ll feel just as good.”

You don’t hesitate, one wobbly arm after the other, your back lands on Connie’s chest, resting your head on his shoulder. Your muscles go lax in relief.

Connie kisses your sweaty temple, snaking his arms around you. He lines his dick against your folds again, pushing back inside in a deep thrust.

Connie gropes your breast, thumb swiping against the hardened nipple.

You inhale, chest ballooning.

The stimulation does not end there. Connie’s other hand finds your apex, the pads of his fingers rubbing your clit as he fucks into you.

“See, told you I’d take care of the rest,” Connie breathes into your hairline, voice ragged.

“Connie…don’t stop.” You wrap your hand around his, urging him to rub your clit faster.

He gets the hint, and your climax is close, so close, you grab onto Connie’s arm at your chest, driving your nails into his skin.

Laughter rumbles in Connie’s chest. “Someone’s almost there, huh? Fuck—me too.” His hips snap up, desperate.

“Connie—I’m gonna—” You throw your head back, cutting yourself short, pulsing and cumming on Connie’s cock.

“Shit, that was fucking hot.” Connie hugs you to his chest, fucking into you with more purpose. “I’m about to nut—your pussy feels so fucking good.”

His sloppy rhythm becomes pointed with quick, sharp bucks of his hips. You hear the deep moan pouring out of his mouth, he lifts your bodies off the mattress, wanting to reach the heavens as he orgasms.

The room falls quiet, save for the heavy breathing against your ear. Connie’s dick stutters inside of you and you both stay like that for a moment. Your back glued to his sticky chest, ass and pussy held in the air by Connie’s hips.

When his cock softens, he slips out, a pair of hips collapses onto poor Niccolò’s bed.

Connie blows out a sigh, warm breath fanning your hair. “Shit…oh shit…” He swallows, rubbing his hands along your arms lazily. “That was hella fun. What’d you think, beautiful? If you liked that, I have another position we can try out.”

You heave a tired laugh, but you’re not against the idea. Maybe another time.

☻ masterpost☻

taglist: @moonmalice @daisynik7 @theragethatisdesire

#aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #connie springer x reader #connie smut #connie springer smut #connie springer x you #dtf only series #mochi-writings

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newtthetranswriter · 9 months

Note

Hello so uhm.... 0w0

Could I ask for a Aziraphale x reader / crowley x reader (seperated when possible) where the reader is sick and they both hug them and wrap their wings around them?

I'm just thinking their feathers would be so soft >~<

Have a nice day/evening!

Word count: Crowley’s Part 1187 / Aziraphale’s part 1579

A/n: this was nice to write. I hope it lives up to expectations. Enjoy and have a great day/ evening as well.

Crowley

It was just a normal Tuesday, well as normal as it can get when going to work at Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, while feeling like someone hit me with a car. My head was pounding and it felt like my small breakfast of plain toast was trying to come back up. I would have called in, but I know Nina would need the help as we were the only to set to work today. I also didn’t tell a certain snake eyed demon about being sick because I know he would have made me stay home.

All of this leads us to where we are right now. I’m currently taking orders while Nina works on making the coffees and teas that are requested. It’s about two in the afternoon which means it’s time for our afternoon rush of people trying to get an extra boost of energy before they end their day. Trying to keep a smile on my face as my migraine gets worse from the loud customers, and the normally enticing smell of coffee which is currently making me more nauseous, is like hell on earth.

I was in the middle of explaining to an older lady that decaf does not in fact contain caffeine, when I noticed a familiar pair leaving the bookshop across the street. Trying to end this conversation quickly so my friends wouldn’t have to wait too long, I offered the lady a solution. “If you are nervous about the decaf having any caffeine I can recommend a warm cup of peppermint tea. It’s relaxing and contains no caffeine at all.” I said hoping to end this back and forth. Luckily she agreed right as the demon and angel pair walked in.

Offering the two a kind wave and forced smile, I entered the lady’s order and proceeded to enter the pairs usual order before they even reached the counter. Normally I would let them place their order like everyone else but today I didn’t want Crowley near me for too long knowing he would quickly realize I was unwell. “Hello Love, Aziraphale. I already entered your order so you can go take a seat, it’s on the house today.” I said trying to avoid conversation with the pair.

Aziraphale just nodded in thanks before going to find a seat. While Crowley on the other hand only stepped to the side so I could continue to assist customers, while he processed my strange behavior. “You never comp our order. Something about it being bad for business. What’s going on with you?” He asked, and even though he wore such dark glasses I could tell he was squinting at me trying to figure me out.

“Nothing is going on. Can’t I be nice to my boyfriend and friend every once in a while.” I responded mindlessly, entering orders trying to avoid my demon’s scrutiny. “I have to help these customers, Crowley go sit down with Zira and Nina will bring it out when it’s done.” I heard a slight scoff before he walked away.

I knew he figured something out but I also knew that he wouldn’t risk making a scene at my job just because he thinks I’m hiding something. Knowing Crowley he would keep quiet about it until I was off work and that’s exactly what he did.

After another four hours of helping customers and cleaning the shop I was finally able to go home and relax. It was a bonus that Nina had figured out that I wasn’t feeling well and told me to take the next day off to get better. So ready for an extra day to recover from this stupid migraine, I left the coffee shop and headed over to A.Z. Fell and Co. to retrieve my grump of a boyfriend knowing he tended to hangout there until I was off work so he could drive me home.

“Hey Aziraphale, Have you seen Crowley? I just got off work and thought he’d be here like normal.” I asked the angel, who was currently reading a book at his desk, upon noticing the demon was nowhere to be seen.

Aziraphale jumped in his seat not having heard me come in. “Oh Y/n, yes Crowley went to the pharmacy around the corner, something about picking up medicine.” He said turning slightly to look at me before turning back to his book. “Though I’m not sure what medicine he would need, it’s not like he can get sick or anything.” He continued obviously oblivious to why a demon such as Crowley would need human medicine.

I just rolled my eyes and took a seat in an armchair. “You don’t mind if I wait for him here do you?” I asked, relaxing for the first time all day, not registering the angel's response as I fell asleep in the chair.

“They’re sleeping Crowley, don’t wake them up. They have obviously had a long day.” I heard my angel friend address my Boyfriend. It was obvious he was trying to keep quiet but was failing as began to slowly awaken from my nap.

I heard a groan before feeling Crowley slip one arm behind my back and the other under my legs, gently lifting me out of the arm chair. “They wouldn’t have had a long day if they told me they were sick.” I heard him grumble as he walked out of the book shop and gently placed me in his bentley. I tried to wake up fully to greet him but the gentle rumble of the car starting lulled me back to sleep as Crowley obeyed traffic laws for once.

The next time I woke up, I was being placed on mine and Crowley’s shared bed. He had brought me home driving far too slow for his liking and then carried me all the way into our apartment. It warmed my heart to know I had such an effect on the snake-eyed demon.

After processing where I was I finally spoke up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to worry about me, it’s just a headache.” I said, trying to calm the demon.

I watched as he set his sunglasses on his nightstand before laying down and wrapping his arms around me. “I will always worry about you, Love. I just wish you had told me. Now go back to sleep, in the morning you can take the medicine I got for you. And we will rest all day.” He said, kissing my forehead.

“Okay” I said snuggling into his warm embrace before a thought came to mind. “Hey Crow, could you wrap your wings around me too? They’re just so soft and they help block out the light.” I asked half asleep, hoping he would agree. I didn’t have to wait long as he rolled on to his back with me laying on his chest. I heard feathers ruffle as he opened his wings before wrapping them around me.

I cuddled closer to his chest as he whispered “anything for you, darling.” and then we both drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

Aziraphale

Dating an angel was a blessing and a curse. While he appreciated things like books, food, and drinks, he didn’t fully understand what it was like for humans when they got sick. Sure he’s been on earth for 6000 years and seen numerous people get sick, but it was never someone close to him. He tried to avoid sickness, he knew he couldn’t get any of the human diseases but he didn’t want to risk getting someone else sick because he came in contact with someone who was sick. He just didn’t want to risk it.

That’s why when I woke up this morning feeling like world war 3 was happening in my stomach, I decided to just tell my sweet boyfriend that I wouldn’t be able to come by today as work had called me in to cover for a coworker. I know it’s wrong to lie to him about it but I didn’t want him to tell me not to come over because I’m sick. It was easier on me if I canceled our plans instead of him being grossed out by my sickness. So, I’ve resigned myself to trying to nap on my couch as my bed just wasn’t comfortable right now.

I just wanted to sleep through this, so I took some over the counter stomach medicine that I had laying around and turned on some anime to relax.

After about four hours of watching Demon Slayer, I decided to scroll on social media because maybe that would put me to sleep. Watching Tanjiro get his ass kicked wasn’t exactly relaxing right now. I opened up tiktok and started watching videos of different cosplayers and people making art for their small businesses. I would occasionally see one that reminded me of my demon friend Crowley and would send it to him, completely forgetting he typically hangs out with Aziraphale and would probably say something about it.

P.o.V change to Aziraphale’s bookshop

Little did Y/n know that was exactly what was happening. Crowley was currently scrolling through his phone listening to the angel complain about his partner canceling their plans because they had to go into work. Not completely paying attention to the angle Crowley watched as a tiktok notification flashed across his screen. He opened it wondering if Y/n was at work why would they be sending him tiktok.

“What time does Y/n typically get off work?” The demon asked, trying to process what was happening. He wondered if it was maybe something they had sent before going to work and it just took a while to come through, but then again the chat did say you were currently active in the app.

The angel paused thinking for a moment, “I believe they get off around five, so they should still be there now. Why do you ask?” He asked curious as to what his companion was getting at.

Crowely took a second to decide if he was going to tell the truth or try to protect the innocent man's feelings from the fact his partner had lied. Sighing, he decided it was probably best to tell the truth even if it would hurt the angel. “Well they just sent me a tiktok and it says they are active.” He said turning his Phone for his friend to see.

The angel’s eyes went wide seeing that his partner was active on the social media app while they were supposedly at work. He tried to deny it, “Maybe they are just on break.” He really didn’t want to believe that you would lie to him about having to work. Why would lie about that, if you just needed a day to rest he would understand.

“Well looking here it seems they have been sending me tiktoks for the past hour so unless their lunch is over an hour long, they aren’t at work.” Crowley responded, scrolling up in the conversation to see when the first one was sent to him. Even though he was a demon he didn’t want to believe that his friend would lie to the angel. Y/n just wasn’t that kind of person. “The only way to get an answer would be to go over to their apartment, cause if you call them they will probably try to play it off somehow.” He said not trying to concern the angel but also trying to voice the truth.

Aziraphale nodded and grabbed his coat, bidding his friend goodbye and heading out. He really hoped it was just that y/n had gotten off work early for covering and it wasn’t them lying to him. The angel couldn’t help but overthink things as he approached the familiar apartment gently knocking on the door.

P.o.V back to reader

I had almost fallen asleep when I heard a quiet knock at my front door, not thinking anything of it I got up and walked to the door. Opening the door I was shocked to see the face of my angelic boyfriend with worry written across his features.

“Zira, what are you doing here?” I was confused as to why he showed up here after I told him I was working an extra shift. “My boss let me leave early because it was slow and turns out they didn’t need me after all, I just got home. Why don’t you come in?” I said trying to cover the fact I in fact did not go into work. Aziraphale slowly walked into my home and sat down on the couch looking around. I could tell there was something on his mind before I watched him freeze, as his eyes landed on the cold medicine sitting on the table.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were ill? I would have understood.” He said, sounding dejected. “I know, you lie down and I’ll make you some tea.” He started getting up from the couch. It was crazy to see how fast he could go from hurt to caring in only a few seconds. I stoof there frozen, He just figured out I lied to me, I’m guessing he knew before he came here, but he is ready to take care of me just like that. I felt a tear roll down my cheeks as I took in how truly kind Aziraphale is. “Love, what’s wrong? It’s ok, just relax, I’ll take care of you.” He noticed I was still standing by the door.

I gently shook my head, I can’t just let him take care of me after I lied to him. “But I lied to you. I said I was going to work and canceled our plans, when in reality I’m sick. You don’t like sick people. You’ve said so yourself. You avoid them even though you can’t get sick. I thought you wouldn’t want to be near me till I get better. You don’t have to take care of me just because we are dating, I understand.” I said as more tears rolled down my face. I was too busy trying to tell him to go back to the bookshop to notice he had walked up to me.

I was startled out of my ranting by the feeling of being wrapped in his warm embrace. He had pulled me into his chest and placed a kiss on the top of my head. I completely relaxed into him, it was the most comfortable I had felt all day. “It’s alright Darling, I’m here because I love you. I want to take care of you. I avoid sick people so I don’t get you sick, I may not get sick but I could still pass the germs to you. I will always take care of you when you don’t feel well.” He said, face still rating against my hair. I just cuddled deeper into his embrace.

After a moment I lifted my head to break the hug so I could lie down when I noticed it wasn’t just his arms wrapped around me. I stared at the beautiful white feather that trapped me in a warm embrace. I looked at my boyfriend’s face shocked as he had never shown me his wings before. “Are those?” I asked, completely stunned. “Can I touch them?” I also asked turning in his hold reaching towards the soft feathers.

He just responded with a hum and a nod letting me run my fingers through his feathers. They were the softest thing I had ever felt. I giggled as I felt him nuzzle his face into the back of my neck, the feathers ruffling slightly at the contact. “Are they sensitive?” I asked, noticing his reaction.

“They can be yes. It’s been a while since I have let them out so a little more so at the moment.” I felt him speak into the back of my neck.

“Well thank you for showing them to me. They truly are extremely soft.” I said praising the angel wrapped around me. I completely forgot about being sick enjoying his embrace.

He slowly let me go and guided me to the couch, folding his wings back slightly so as to not knock anything over. “Of course dear. Now lay down, I’ll be back in a moment with soup.” He said before walking off towards the kitchen leaving me to relax into the couch. It was nice knowing I had such an angel of a boyfriend to take care of me.

#good omens x reader #good omens #good omens 2 #crowley x reader #anthony j crowley #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale

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rollingsins · 1 year

Text

all hers, part xvii

summary: The scooby-gang are back together. This time to silence Ghostface. Forever.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder.

word count: 4.4k

a/n: I was screaming, shaking, crying writing this chapter for some unknown reason. Call it writer's block. Sorry for the wait, thanks for all your guys' love and patience!

You wake up to the smell of pancakes.

Tara stirs, a little sleepy as you press a kiss to her neck, leaning down to check her dressing.

“It’s not like your parents to make us breakfast,” She murmurs, sitting up slightly. You were a cereal and toast kind of family. You furrow your brows, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Girls!” Sam’s voice calls up the stairs, “Breakfast is ready.”

Tara’s eyes widen.

“Oh no.”

Sam’s pancakes are made out of buckwheat flour and vegan butter. They’re brown - browner than a pancake should be, and her toppings are a mesh of eggs, avocado and chorizo. Not a raspberry, or blueberry - or any kind of traditional pancake topping in sight.

“Maple syrup isn’t good for you,” Sam assures when you ask for it. Instead, she offers a small bottle of honey, “Here. This is much healthier.”

Tara stares down at her plate, nudging her food suspiciously.

“It’s so nice to have a cook in the house,” Your mother gushes as she digs into her plate, “And this is really gourmet stuff. Our own little Gordan Ramsey.”

Tara swallows, her expression stormy. She picks up a piece of pancake with her fork and sniffs it. Makes a face.

Sam settles into the spot next to you. You take a half-hearted bite.

“How does it taste?” Sam asks, and you swallow, locking eyes with Tara.

“Healthy.”

“Good,” Sam says, sounding pleased with herself, “Tara needs nutrients.”

“Isn’t it nice of your sister to make you breakfast?” You ask Tara pointedly, nudging her foot under the table.

She blinks. Looks at you like she doesn’t want to answer.

You kick her again.

“Really nice, thanks Sam,” Tara mumbles into her plate.

It’s small and half-hearted. But it makes Sam beam.

It’s a Tuesday morning but you’re not in school.

Tara’s still too weak to walk for a prolonged amount of time, and you manage to convince your Dad it’s safer to stay home with Tara and Sam than go to school by yourself.

He and your Mom file out, one by one. He presses a kiss to your forehead. Makes sure you remember to lock the door on his way out.

They’ve been a little more at ease with Sam around, though she’s taken all their nervous energy and increased it tenfold. She spends most of her time checking the locks and cleaning her guns. The leftover is spent in the kitchen making Tara countless healthy snacks, to Tara’s great horror. Your room is filled with barely touched plates of carrot sticks and cucumber straws, tofu balls and seaweed crackers.

Sam is just as obsessive as her sister, though she shows it in a much different way.

Tara grumbles as she shoves another platter of hummus and carrots to your desk, phone pressed to her ear. She’s invited around her friends, and she must catch the look on your face because when she hangs up. She takes you in her arms and presses a long kiss to the side of your head.

“We need them,” She promises, “We need bodies to catch Ghostface.”

“If you say so,” You say, biting your lip.

It seems a little silly to you. Afterall, who’s to say one of them wasn't Ghostface? Between you and Tara, you had managed to kill two of their best friends. It wasn’t far-fetched to imagine they might be a little pissed about it if they knew.

She wraps her arms around your shoulders, presses a light kiss to your lips.

“They’ll be here in twenty,” She says, and so you quiet the thought of Chad and Liv in matching Ghostface masks and abandon Tara to get dressed.

Sam’s in the kitchen when they arrive, making Tara a green smoothie.

She doesn’t see the door open, doesn’t hear the hushed whispers as you shuffle them all upstairs to pile into your tiny bedroom.

Chad makes himself at home, lays back against the bed, one of your cushions in hand.

“Brace yourself,” He says as Tara shuts the door, “Mindy made a power-point.”

“I just thought the suspect list might be a little easier to palate in a visual format.” Mindy says, shooting a glare at her twin. She opens her laptop. Tara rolls her eyes.

“Forget about the suspect list,” She tells Mindy, “What’s the plan? It doesn’t matter who he is, we just need to catch him.”

“I still say we trap him,” Liv pipes up.

Tara groans.

“Liv, that’s why we’re here.”

“We could do it at the house,” Mindy suggests, biting her lip.

“And how are we going to do that?” Tara asks, “This house is on lockdown. He’ll never get in, now. Not with Sam parading about like the secret service.”

“We do it at school,” Chad suggests, “Think about it. Ghostface won’t be scared off by Sam and YN’s Dad. And it’s a familiar place - we know it like the back of our hands.”

“Ghostface hasn’t attacked us at school.” You say, chewing your lip.

“Not yet.” Chad stresses, “But maybe he will. If we can draw him out.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Tara asks, voice dry, “Send him a text message? Hey, Ghostface - YN and I will be hanging out by ourselves in the girls locker room if you want to try carve us up like cattle again.”

“We need to make it public knowledge that we’ll be alone,” You say, sitting up, “If we can spread it through the entire school, surely he’ll find out. He’s watching us, remember.”

“Detention.” Chad says, snapping his fingers together, “Principal Garcia’s detention! There’ll be no one there. No one is ever bad enough to get Principal Garcia’s detention.”

Principal Garcia had started a programme just as you’d joined Woodboro High. Regular detention was held after school, as usual. But Principal Garcia’s detention was held Saturday mornings. You’d only ever heard of one student who was naughty enough to get one of the Principal’s detention.

And that person happened to be your girlfriend.

“He doesn’t hand them out willy-nilly,” Tara says, sounding frustrated, “You have to be really bad to get one.”

“You got one,” Mindy says, raising an eyebrow, “Figures you could get one again.”

Tara’s Principal’s detention had been granted at one of your old soccer games. Faye Evans, one of the girls on the opposing team had played it too fast and loose one the field and ended up kicking your shins a little too hard. You’d toppled to the ground in agony.

Faye would have got a red card, if Tara had not got to her first.

You’d sat up, just in time to see Tara bee-lining from her spot on the sidelines. She’d grabbed Faye by the arms and body-slammed her so hard into the ground she drew blood. She’d maybe have done worse had you not pried her off.

Thankfully, Faye’s parents had settled for the detention (and Tara’s permanent ban from watching your soccer games) in lieu of a lawsuit.

“Chad punched someone last year and got suspended,” Tara grumbles, “That isn’t what we need. We need a detention, not a mark on our permanent records.”

“I was defending Liv’s honor,” Chad says, puffing his chest out a little, “Some dude in Chemistry grabbed her ass.”

Liv all but swoons. She ducks down and kisses him.

“My hero.” She murmurs.

Mindy wrinkles her nose.

Tara looks at you, “I was doing the same for you,” She says, sounding aggrieved, “Some girlfriends are grateful, see?”

“You’re not body-slamming anyone again,” You tell her, eyebrows raised, “Besides, you can barely stand up without wincing.”

“Maybe you could cuss out a teacher?” Mindy suggests.

Tara shakes her head.

“I’ve done that too, got a regular detention.” She says.

The teacher in question was Mrs. Cartwright. She’d given you a C+ on your English paper. And Tara had hit the roof.

You stir, not enjoying this trip down memory lane.

Tara looks over at you.

“We could get caught.” She suggests, “Third period - maybe before History class.”

Your cheeks flame red.

“No,” You hiss, “Absolutely not.”

“Baby, we have to do something.” Tara insists, “It has to be bad enough to get a Principal’s detention, not so bad we get suspended-”

“I’m not fucking you in front of Mr Saunders,” You say.

“It wouldn’t be all the way, maybe just some mouth stuff.” Liv says, helpfully.

You glare at her.

“Forget it,” You tell Tara, “Think of something else.”

The group collectively slump back in their seats. It’s quiet a moment, and then Chad sits up.

“I’ve got it!” He says, sounding excited, “We make a big show in class, Tara and I get into an argument - and then she punches me! The only reason I got suspended is because that kid’s Dad got involved. So I just won’t tell mine.”

You furrow your brows.

“You can act like I hit on your girl, or something,” Chad continues, “It’s perfect!”

“And I am I supposed to get detention from this?” You ask.

Chad shrugs, “I don’t know. You punch me too?”

Tara chews her lip.

“It’s a terrible idea,” She says, “But it’s the best we have so far.”

“What’s a terrible idea?” Sam’s in the doorway. You hadn’t heard her come in. She has another platter of vegetables in hand.

The five of you whip around, the guilt on all of your faces evident.

“Chad thinks we should get McDonalds for lunch,” Mindy says, lamely.

Sam stares at her, disbelieving.

“What’s this about punching Chad?” She says, staring at Tara, “And why do you want detention?”

Liv folds like a lawn chair.

“We’re trying to get Tara and YN a principal’s detention.” She says, quickly, “So Ghostface will attack Tara and YN and we’ll be able to catch the guy.”

Mindy groans.

“Liv,” She hisses, “We were fine.”

Sam stares a moment.

“No,” She says, immediately. Tara sits up a little straighter.

“Sam we need a plan,” She argues, “If we can trap the asshole and take off his mask-”

“You have a three inch hole in your stomach,” Sam says, voice shrill, “And if you think I’m trusting these idiots to protect you-”

“Sam,” Tara interjects, voice raised, “I’m not a little kid anymore. I can look after myself.”

“You’re not leaving this house unless I’m with you,” Sam says, sounding final, “And if you think I’m going to let you use yourself as bait for Ghostface-”

“She’s already bait for Ghostface,” You say, cutting in. Sam stares at you, “Look at what just happened. Sam, if we want to stop this guy, we need to know who he is.”

Sam looks at you.

Really looks at you.

You’re right and she knows it. You can tell by the look in her eyes. Hesitant, troubled. Like she’s fighting a losing battle in her own head.

Tara interjects before she can say anything.

“You can be a part of the plan if you want,” She says, “But we’re doing it with or without you.”

“You’re doing it with me,” Sam says, after a long moment, “You’re doing it right. Tell me the plan.”

Chad goes into animated detail. Too much detail.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam cuts Chad off mid-sentence, eyebrows furrowed, “Assault is assault, Chad. Tara will be suspended within the hour.”

“So what do you suggest, Sam?” You ask, a little desperate.

Tara interjects, “I still think we should get caught having-”

“No.” You and Sam say at the same time.

Tara crosses her arms.

“I have an idea,” Sam says, biting her lip, “But I need you to trust me.”

Sam’s idea is ridiculous at best, plain cruel at worst.

But it’s the best idea you have.

Wednesday morning you’re sitting in history class after having half-carried Tara into school, your stomach awash with butterflies. Chad, Liv and Mindy sit around you like body-guards, and despite the ridiculousness of the Ghostface-fighting crew you’ve put together, it does give you a little comfort knowing they’re close.

Mr Saunders is a dreary, five foot seven, forty one year old. He wears bowties to school and torments his classes with facts about history, which he delivers in a droning, tired voice. As if even he is sick of hearing about it.

It’s the Vietnam war today.

You let him begin the class, even listen for a little.

Sorry, you think preemptively.

It’s almost Ironic, how he spends so much time talking about war and is so unaware he’s about to be the next casualty in one.

Right on schedule, as he pauses to take a sip of his coffee, Tara raises her hand.

“Mr Saunders,” She pipes up, “Can YN and I be excused?”

Mr Saunders looks down at her. Long lines draw across his forehead. His shoulders tighten. He doesn’t like being interrupted.

He looks between you and Tara, eyes appraising. The two of you had a certain reputation in school, and you were certain no teacher would let the two of you go off alone. Let alone him.

“Do you need to see the nurse, Ms Carpenter? I’m sure, Mr Meeks-Martin can escort you.” Pointed, as if he sees right through her façade.

Tara shakes her head. Her eyes blaze in that way they do when she’s determined to see something though.

Your stomach flips.

“Not really,” She says, a little blasé, “This lesson is just boring me, a little.”

The class sniggers. Mr Saunders’ expression turns frosty. He stands a little taller, hushes the class with a whack against the white board.

“I’m sorry you don’t find the Vietnam war more entertaining, Ms Carpenter,” He says, voice stern, “But you’ll just have to make do. No, you may not be excused.”

You grip Tara’s hand a little tighter. It’s your turn.

“Why do you have such a stick up your ass all the time, Sir?” You say, voice a little shaky.

Tara rubs her thumb over the back of your hand, comfortingly.

Mr Saunders blinks back at you. It isn’t often you spoke up in his class, if at all. His face flames red with anger.

“Why don’t I tell you in detention?” He says, curling his lip.

He turns his back to you, scribbling madly on the whiteboard, trying to redirect the attention of the class.

Disappointment floods through you.

Detention. A regular detention. It isn’t what you need.

“He’s balding, babe, that’s why,” Tara says, loudly, “He wears a toupee and thinks everyone can’t tell-“

Mr Saunders whirls around.

“Detention,” He hissed again, “Both of you.”

“Mr Saunders doesn’t have a toupee,” Chad says, exactly on time, “There’s no way. Look at that thick head of hair.”

Tara stands.

“Sit down, Ms Carpenter,” Mr Saunders says, voice irate.

You can’t look as it happens.

Mr Saunders, although a little strict, is a perfectly nice teacher. And you were about to humiliate him in front of a sea of piranha-like teenagers.

Liv squeezes your shoulder.

“It’s for a good cause,” She offers in a whisper.

Tara reaches the front of the room. Mr Saunders doesn’t see it coming. He blocks the door, as if that’s where she’s trying to go.

And then in one swift move, she’s launching her arm forward and plucking the toupee straight off his head.

The class gasps, then erupts into a flurry of shock and laughter. You bury your head in your hands.

Tara waves the toupee about as if it’s a trophy for a moment before Mr Saunders snatches it back and tries to jam it - upside down - on his bald head.

“Principal’s office,” He hisses, face contorted, red, like he’s about to explode, “Both of you. Now.”

There’s a lot of yelling.

Mr Saunders wants you both suspended, for being “arrogant, disrespectful little shits.”

You Dad is at work, so it’s Sam who gets called.

Principal Garcia watches the two of you over his glasses with faint distaste. Like he doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this kind of ridiculous nonsense.

“Mr Saunders, I am so sorry for my sister's behavior,” Sam says, wide-eyed when she arrives, as if it weren’t her very idea, “The only explanation I can give you is it’s been a very tough couple of weeks. You know, Tara was attacked by Ghostface just days ago.”

For the first time in the last hour, the Principal softens. He looks down at Tara, appraises her for a moment.

“That’s understandable,” He says. Mr Saunders’ shoulders tighten again, like an angry little wind-up doll, “But it’s no excuse for her behavior-“

“I agree,” Says Sam, nodding softly, “Principal, perhaps one of your special detentions will set her in order. Both of them. Give them time to think about how they behave in school.”

The Principal hums.

And agrees.

Exactly to plan.

Saturday detention can’t come fast enough.

Tara breaks down the plan over and over, as if you’re both in Ocean's Eleven, the detention your diamond heist.

There are cabinets which line the back of the classrooms. Chad and Liv are to sneak into school early, hide back there until the attack happens. Mindy and Sam are to scout the doors, using a nearby utility closet to stay out of sight.

Tara and Sam are both to be armed, and the six of you are going to be wearing military strength bulletproof vests - courtesy of Tara’s mom’s credit card she still hadn’t changed the PIN number to.

Perhaps she might after the near nine hundred dollar bill she had just incurred.

Sam instructs all of you to “aim for the knees, but kill the asshole if you have to.”

And despite all the planning and the manpower, you can’t help but have the sinking suspicion something will go wrong.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” Tara murmurs that morning, scouting out your quiet trepidation with expertise. She presses a kiss to your forehead and takes you in her arms, “I’ll protect you. He won’t touch you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” You murmur, lightly touching her wound with your fingertips. It’s been almost a week but she’s still healing. She winces when she sits down, and still leans on you sometimes when she walks.

You’re terrified that despite the gun and the vest, she’ll collapse to the ground and make herself Ghostface’s pin cushion once again.

She smoothes your hair back, fondly scratches your scalp.

“I’ll be okay,” She assures, “Once the adrenaline takes over.”

She kisses you.

“It’s going to be over, today,” She promises. Her dark eyes are awash with something: that fearlessness that comes so easy to her, “You’re never going to have to be afraid of him again.”

But you are afraid.

Not just of the inevitable attack that would occur, only hours later. You’re afraid once he’s unmasked he’ll talk. He knows, you know he knows. And one single utter of ‘Ghostface” and Tara’s name in the same sentence and the Sheriff would be knocking down your door to take her away.

“We have to kill him, baby,” You murmur. You bury your head in her neck, inhale her scent as if it will give you some comfort, “If he talks-”

“He won’t talk,” Tara says, sounding determined, “I’ll put a bullet through his brain before he gets the chance.”

The mood is somber.

Chad and Liv are en-route to the school, they’d texted ahead.

Mindy is to meet Sam outside the school in all but thirty minutes.

You chew down on some plain toast, trying to quell the tide of nausea rocking waves in your stomach.

“You okay, babe?” Tara asks, rubbing your back, “We need to get dressed in a minute.”

“I have a bad feeling,” You say. Tara leans over, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“It’s just nerves.” She promises.

“Don’t be nervous,” Sam assures from across the table. She’s loading pellets into her shotgun, “I’m going to be armed with more firepower than the entire nation of Latvia. Motherfucker better hope he’s wearing knee pads, else I’m going to blow his knee caps clean off.”

If anything, that makes you more nervous.

“Don’t fire it close to Tara.” You tell her, chewing your lip.

Sam shoots you a look.

“Do I look like a rookie to you?”

A little, you’d fire back but your thought is interrupted by a sharp, urgent knock at the front door.

Tara tilts her head.

“Who’s that?”

You frown, crane your neck to try and see the figure through the glass. Your parents were at work, and they didn’t often host unexpected guests.

Sam stands, carefully places her shotgun on the countertop as she goes to answer the door.

You follow, curiosity peaked.

And then immediately wish you hadn’t.

It’s the Sheriff, and two other offices, poised at either side of her shoulders.

Her stance is stoic, expression unreadable. Your stomach churns in that uneasy way it always does when she’s around. But something about this is different.

She seems… formal. Far too formal for this to be a house call. You grip Tara’s hand tight between your fingers.

“Sheriff?” Sam asks, a little confused, “What are you doing here?”

But the Sheriff isn’t looking at Sam. Her eyes are honed in on Tara. Like she’s found her mark.

“Tara Carpenter,” She says, voice even, “I need you to come down with me to the station."

“Why?” Sam asks, immediately. Her shoulders tense.

“We have some questions,” Sheriff Hicks says, eyes flickering, “That’s all.”

“So ask them,” Sam says, eyebrows furrowed, “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Sheriff Hicks reaches into her pocket.

She pulls out a piece of paper, and thrusts it towards Sam.

Your stomach sinks. A wave of hot anxiety flushes through you at the sight.

It’s an arrest warrant. With Tara’s name on it.

“You want to bet?” Sheriff Hicks says, voice cold.

You feel your heart start to pound. Tara blinks, staring at the paper a moment. You feel hot, your brain swimming. Your chest is tight, like the walls are closing in.

“I don’t understand,” Sam murmurs, crinkling the paper between her fingertips, “You’re arresting her for what exactly?”

“For murder,” Sheriff Hicks says, “For multiple murders. For the murder of Aaron and Sam Collins, Chase Matthews, Sadie Jones, Amber Freeman-“

Her voice quivers.

“And Wesley Hicks.”

It’s quiet a moment.

Your throat closes. Sam stares, eyes widening.

And then she splutters, “That’s ridiculous-“

Your hand tightens around Tara’s. She hasn’t moved. Her expression hasn’t changed.

Sheriff Hicks narrows her eyes.

“Don’t make me do this the hard way, Tara.” She says, “I can make a scene. I can handcuff you in front of your girlfriend and your sister or you can make it easy and come with me right now.”

Her hands touch the metallic handcuffs dangling off her belt, menacingly.

Panic swells in your chest. You feel as though you might combust. Your throat is tight but you manage to pry through a few strangled words.

“You’ve got it wrong,” You plead, tears pricking behind your eyes, “Tara hasn’t killed anyone.”

A blatant lie.

She’d see it if she looked over at you, saw the falsehood, the desperation swimming in your eyes. But the Sheriff isn’t looking at you. She’s looking at Tara, victorious.

As if she’s got her right in the scope.

Sam stares between them, then snaps into action.

“It’s going to be okay.” Sam says, all big-sister mode. She presses her hands to Tara’s shoulders, “I’m going to call a lawyer, right now. Don’t say anything to them Tara. I’ll follow, right behind, I’ll be in the waiting room the entire time-“

The plan.

It hits you like a jolt of lightning. The trap you’d perfected. The painstaking hours that had gone into planning it. The quick knock on the door that had sent it all out the window.

You’d had him.

Ghostface would have been yours. You’d have him unmasked, in the handcuffs the Sheriff had intended for Tara.

You think, quickly. And then close your eyes. Muster the strength it takes to get the words out.

“No,” You says, quietly. Tara and Sam both look over at you, “We had plans today, Sam.”

Sam looks at you as if you’re crazy.

There are police in your yard, swarming the lawn, sirens blaring. There’s a dozen of them, as if the Sheriff needed backup. As if, your tiny, injured, 5”1 girlfriend would put up so much fight twelve police officers would have to hold her down.

You blink back tears, hold the lump in your throat.

And you know exactly what you need to do.

“My Dad will be with her,” You continue, “I’ll call him now. He’ll call the lawyer, drive her home when they let her go. Inevitably.”

You shoot a look at the Sheriff.

“But Sam, it’s the only way.”

“No,” Tara says, voice flat, “No. Sam, tell her no.”

“It’s the only way,” You say, breathless. You blink back the tears, “We need to give them something.”

The Sheriff is watching, eyes peeled. Eyes narrowed, like she’s trying to make out your not-so-secret code.

You swallow. Taper down your emotions for a moment. Determination surges through you.

Lawyers, police, The Sheriff. Nothing could fix this but doing one thing.

Giving the police Ghostface. On a silver platter.

Sam’s quiet.

But Tara kicks up a fuss.

“Baby,” She urges, trying to pry your attention, to her “Baby, look at me. Say you won’t. Promise me you won’t.”

You swallow.

Brush her hair out of her face. Her eyes are wide, desperate. Huge brown orbs, pleading. It’s so strange to see her powerless. It’s unnatural.

You kiss her, softly.

“I’m going to protect you,” You promise against her lips, voice but a whisper, “The way you protect me.”

“That’s enough.” The Sheriff says, voice stern, “Tara. Easy way or the hard way? Your choice.”

Tara swallows.

“Sam,” She says, voice urgent, “Promise me you won’t let her. Promise me.”

Sam blinks a moment, her face blank.

And then she nods, presses a long kiss to Tara’s forehead.

“I promise,” She says, voice soft, “Go with the Sheriff. YN and I will be right behind you.”

Your heart sinks. Relief floods through Tara’s face.

“Now, Tara,” The Sheriff says, voice stern. Tara steps forward. Shoots a final look at you.

“I love you,” She murmurs.

And then you watch, tears in your eyes, as she’s hauled off in the back of a squad car. She limps to the car, looking so small amongst the sea of police officers. Helpless.

It makes you ache.

You turn to Sam when they’re out of sight, eyes shimmering with brand new determination.

“Sam- I know you’re in shock, but it’s the only way-”

“You don’t have to sell me a pitch, YN,” Sam says, voice low. The unshed tears in her eyes mirror yours, “We’re going to the school and we’re catching Ghostface.”

You blink.

Sam looks at you.

“You’re right,” She says, lip quivering, “It’s the only way to save her.”

#all hers #ghostface!tara #fanfic #mine #jenna ortega #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x yn #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x yn #tara carpenter x you #wednesday

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mariacallous · 4 months

Text

Several years ago, I invited my new boyfriend to Yom Kippur at my aunt’s house. He didn’t need convincing – I think he adored my family early on – but to entice him further I made sure he knew what was on offer.

Bagels. Cream cheese. Lox.

Let’s just say he showed up on time. I knew my aunt would be thrilled when he devoured the pickled herring. (He earned similar accolades when he asked for seconds of gefilte fish at Passover.)

Jewish food, he says, is just a hop, skip and a jump from the Scandinavian food he grew up with. “It’s like the foods of my people. Foods of your people, foods of our people.”

Apart from being poetic, it was a very Jewish thing for him to say.

Now my husband, Brad is definitively non-Jewish by all religious standards. His father was raised in a big Irish Catholic family and his mother, raised in the Midwest, is of Scandinavian descent. He was the first non-Jewish person I’d met with his own proclivity for pickled fish and smoked salmon.

Among the items he always kept in his pantry — before he met me and still today — are tinned fish and Triscuits, often eaten as a meal. He and I have been on a year-long journey of finding the best “real rye bread” within driving distance in the greater Metrowest area of Boston. (Haven’t found it yet.)

To say that he embraces all things Jewish is obvious. That he loves me is only part of the reason; another is the food.

My grandmother always had enough food to feed an army, no matter whether it was Shabbat, Passover or Tuesday. I watched as Brad became accustomed to the foods we loved and the leftovers we take pride in sharing: the containers left on the table after Yom Kippur for extra brisket, the paper bags for challah and rugelach.

But he’s taught us about food, too. Our family text chain is called “Smashburgers Unite” because of my family’s newfound favorite meal, brought to us by my husband. A better cook than I (a generous understatement), he loves cooking projects.

At that point, my biggest cooking project I’d taken on was making latkes for Hanukkah.

It had been my job for years. I’d shove the potatoes in the Cuisinart, wring them out as best I could, and do my best guesswork with how much egg, matzah meal, onion and salt should go in. Then I’d stand at the stove and fry them, the kitchen filling with that wonderful greasy-spoon smell, as the rest of my family arrived. I laid them out as they were done, always in an inadvertent ombre from light to dark as the oil, and my patience, decreased.

So for Brad’s first Hanukkah with us, I told him — who once made a BBQ for 40 people with no help from anyone — that I (and, by proxy, he) was in charge of latkes.

“Cool,” he said. His indifference both alarmed and relieved me.

“It’s more work than you think,” I said.

I should have known he’d have better tricks for peeling massive amounts of Russet potatoes and draining their water (cheesecloth! The man I’m dating owns cheesecloth?!), adding cornstarch to help the eggs adhere better to the mix, and adding enough salt so they actually tasted good. He added seasonings like zaatar, onion powder and garlic powder. He showed me how to wait until all the oil – way more than I was used to adding for frying – was shimmering, and to be patient while each side cooked.

I think he wanted to add a shallot.

“It’s not traditional,” I said.

“So?” he said.

He had a point.

The latkes that year were a hit. My family made sure he knew that it was now his task for life. They were joking, but they were also serious.

I knew he was about to take this latke-making to the next level. On the way home, he thought up different flavor combinations, like adding dill and black pepper, and what if we fried them in schmaltz – we’d have to roast a chicken first; store-bought schmaltz wouldn’t cut it – and what if we added cayenne, and what if we used different root vegetables, like turnips and rutabagas, and what if made a sweet potato version?

I was exhausted just thinking about it. The latkes take a great deal of effort, and I don’t have the same love of cooking that Brad does. Where he sees opportunity, I see how long it will take to clean up.

Maybe we buy shredded potatoes, to make it easier? I suggested.

But no: Everything from scratch, no shortcuts. Our first year in our new home together, we made them in our kitchen. He shredded the potatoes, I wrung them out. He set up three bowls with different seasonings and spices. I spooned them into balls, and we’d take turns at the stove, frying, flipping, frying again. We ate several between us right away – impossible not to. Yes, it was an hours-long process. But the pride I felt at bringing them home, measured by the silence while people ate and ate, was unmatched.

I learned that the effort, the planning, the execution: it’s a way of showing love. The energy we put into the latkes as a team made me feel closer, somehow, to the holiday and to my Jewish roots.

That first meal of jointly-made latkes also included my mom’s brisket. Over dinner, the conversation turned to other traditional Jewish foods like corned beef and pastrami. Brad pointed out that they were both brisket, just made different – something we hadn’t really ever thought about.

He mentioned he could make a pastrami.

Our eyes widened.

“It’s just a matter of brining it…then smoking it…”

So we’re in charge of both now: latkes and pastrami.

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melancholy-of-nadia · 3 months

Text

love u lately (m) #7 | myg/knj/pjm

title: love u lately chapter title: #7 - People (Pt. 2) pairing: yoongi x f. reader, namjoon x f. reader, jimin x f. reader (yoonminjoon x f. reader) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; college/university au , pseudo frat! bts; best friends! yoonminjoon friends to lovers; summary: a camping trip in the middle of January does not prove to be ideal at all. for many reasons. and you'll blame taehyung for suggesting this! with high tensions and emotions simmering beneath the surface as you, the beta tau sigma boys, and your girly besties go on a weekend getaway, someone unexpected decides to confess to you, leaving you to wonder what your heart even wants? warnings: camping, reader being obviously jealous, AND STRESSED, smut, deep talks, shower sex, consensual groping, v in p penetration, unprotected sex (well she's on BC), swearing, kissing...A LOT, fingering, yoongi smoking cigarettes, hwasa the drama pot stirrer, ANGST, INJURY, eventual CONFESSION, yoonminjoon on high tension, jungkook carrying reader = jealousy, ft. Hwasa, IU, Adora, and Soyoon note: as always thank you to @daegudrama for editing this chapter and giving me smut ideas!!! total word count: 12.6k drop date: February 9th, 2024 3:00PM PST cross posted on AO3 here ← #6 | Series Masterlist | #8 →

January 19 [Saturday]

The rhythmic hum of the engine and the soft purr of the tires on the pavement accompany your focus as you sit shotgun in Yoongi's car, en route to the campgrounds. Winter break ended earlier that month, and reality is setting in as you find yourself juggling the remnants of relaxation with the impending demands of university life.

Yoongi decided to bring his car to campus this semester, knowing that he would need it for the camping trip to be able to fit everyone. Each car housed a portion of your close-knit group:

Jin's car: Hoseok, Hwasa, Soohyun Jimin's car: Namjoon, Soyoon, Jungkook Yoongi's car: You, Taehyung, Jieun

Seated beside Yoongi, you diligently work on a writing assignment, your laptop open on your lap. Yoongi cast a sidelong glance, noting your dedication despite his concern for your motion sickness.

"Are you seriously working on your homework in the car? You get bad motion sickness, Honey." He sighs, worry lacing his words as he continues looking at the road.

You finally lift your gaze, meeting his eyes after a focused 25 minutes. "I took a dramamine before this, so it’s not too bad. I just need to get this assignment done before Tuesday. I know I’m going to fuck around and not work on it much this whole trip, so I’m doing all I can to get it done within the next 3 hours."

Yoongi hums, understanding the struggle. "Damn, that business comm class has you hustling hard this semester, huh?"

You groan in agreement, "Yes! I was so close to dropping it because the professor is so stingy, but I need to take it now so I can graduate on time." This spring semester is going to be a lot harder so you have to stay focused. Though, this camping trip offers a temporary escape with your friends before you start calling the library your new home for the rest of the school year.

As the car rolls along the highway, your mind wanders back to a few weeks before the semester started. The course load is much more formidable than Fall, now taking some upper division courses like psychology, business communication, international economics, and market analysis. That business comm class is going to kill you though. You sigh at yet another twist of fate of Jaebeom's presence in a class, which somehow leaves you feeling uneasy.

He struck up a conversation after the first class, asking for your phone number to discuss homework and projects. While you agreed, sensing something off, Yoongi appeared behind you as if summoned from thin air. His dark expression and the firm grip on your wrist conveyed a silent warning to Jaebeom.

Before leaving, Jaebeom couldn't resist a sudden sarcastic remark, "Wasting time? You better finish that mixtape if you want to get signed before me, Agust."

At the time, you didn't fully grasp the implications. However, his words linger, and you wonder if Yoongi has recently been struggling with his music and if that somehow was connected to you. The mixtape project, once a seamless process for him, now seemed to be hitting roadblocks.

You decide to try to pry into Yoongi’s mind and see if your suspicions are correct by continuing the conversation. "What about you, Yoongi? I know you’re taking that Recording Production Process class this semester to release a mixtape by the end of it."

"Yeah, yeah, it's going well,” Yoongi nods shyly, offering a few affirmations.

"Right, hyung is working on an album!" Taehyung chimes in from the back seat where he sits with Jieun, your upperclassman friend you'd invited on the trip.

"Oh really? That’s really cool, Yoongi!" Jieun compliments, her eyes sparkling at the mention of Yoongi producing music.

"And if you need a vocalist feature, you should ask Jieun. She’s in the university’s acapella group." you suggest, thinking it could add a unique dynamic to Yoongi's music. Yoongi has asked you to sing a couple parts in the past for his songs, though you always try to gently refuse. You don’t think you’re much of a singer and don’t want to ruin his works. However, Yoongi always thinks differently.

"Really? Jieun, if you don’t mind helping me out with some of my projects, I would greatly appreciate it." Yoongi proposed.

"Sure! I sing as a hobby, so I don’t know how great I would be, but I’ll do my best." Jieun responds, her willingness evident in her tone.

You met Jieun last year when she was a 2nd year TA in your Psych Statistics Analysis class. After several office hour sessions of trying to understand how Tukey’s Honestly Significant Difference worked (which you don’t want to explain how it works), you ended up befriending her and becoming good friends. You found out she’s an amazing singer outside of her pursuing a psychology degree and even a theater major. You think Yoongi would get along really well with her (cue Yoongi’s obscure interest in broadway musicals).

The car continues its journey through picturesque landscapes, and after two hours, you finally arrive at the campsite. Nestled in the embrace of nature, the site sprawls out with a serene lake nearby, and scattered cabin lodgings surround the area. You note the promise of a hot spring spa somewhere around here, creating a mental checklist for exploration later on.

As you step out of the car, the crisp January air hit you, carrying remnants of moisture from the previous days' rain. It is undeniably cold, and you question the wisdom of camping in the middle of winter. Everyone starts unloading the supplies from the cars for the next 2-3 days. Jin, Yoongi, Soyoon, and Jungkook take charge of building the tents, their collective efforts combating the chilly breeze.

After everyone settles down, you all decide to have a group meeting to discuss what you guys are going to eat for lunch.

Taehyung, who is always down for something random, proposes a cooking challenge that divides everyone into two teams: Team Red and Team Blue. The plan involves creatively preparing lunch and dinner using the BBQ grills and sinks at the picnic area, as well as utilizing the supplies Jin and Namjoon bought the night before. Everyone will decide on the best meal after dinner.

Team Red, consisting of Jin, Hoseok, Namjoon, Soyoon, Soohyun, and Jimin, strategize their approach.

Jin, surveying the available ingredients, rubs his hands together, ready for the challenge. "Alright, team! We have premade dough, broth, veggies, meat, fruit, side dishes, bread…ideas, anyone?"

Hoseok, ever the enthusiast, suggests, "I’m tempted to say we should make the barbecue feast for lunch. I’m craving BBQ so bad. Please, Jin."

“No! We’re doing that tomorrow night!” Jin lightly argues, earning a groan from Hoseok which makes everyone else laugh.

Namjoon, exchanging glances with Soyoon, feels a spark of inspiration. "What if we do something a bit different? Pizza. We can make pizza outdoors. It's a bit unconventional, but we do have the premade dough. I think the result will be worth it."

Soyoon giggles and nods in agreement, adding, "Yeah, I actually brought the dough because I thought we could use it to make something cool out here. Pizza would actually be fucking cool." Namjoon smile widdens knowing she understands him so well.

"I'm down for pizza!" Jimin, excited by the idea, chimes in.

"Let's make a giant combo pizza. That way, we can feed everyone." Soohyun, examining the ingredients, suggests.

Jin, impressed with his team brainstorming thoughts, declares, "Fantastic! Let's get to work. Hoseok, start the fire. Namjoon, you and Soyoon work on rolling the dough. Soohyun, you and Jimin can handle cutting the ingredients for the toppings. We've got this!"

The team disperses to their designated tasks, banter and laughter fills the air as they toss around more ideas. Amidst the cheerful chaos, your attention involuntarily drifts to Soyoon and Namjoon.

You steal glances at them, observing how they playfully engage with each other while improvising rolling pins from random cylindrical objects. The rhythmic motion of rolling dough becomes a backdrop to their shared laughter, and you can't help but feel somewhat uncomfortable.

It's different. In the past, Namjoon would get close with girls you didn’t even know, like Jihyo. This time, it hits a bit closer to home—Soyoon is your friend, and Namjoon is your childhood best friend. You remember the first time they met is when Namjoon came by to pick you up after a late night library shift during finals season last year. But you’re not even sure when they started talking to each other more without you knowing. Could it have been through one of their art history classes?

Lost in your thoughts, you're snapped back to reality when Yoongi playfully flicks your forehead, jolting you back to reality.

“Get your head in the game, Y/N.” He grumbles and you wince slightly in pain. Jerk.

“I am!” You retort as you go back to facing him and looking at the ingredients in front of you. “I was just trying to see what they were plotting for lunch.”

Yoongi can’t help but shoot you a questioning expression. You wonder if he knows that you were looking at them. It wouldn’t be the first time he catches you staring at Namjoon being with another girl. Whether he knows or not, he doesn’t decide to pry and instead looks back at the ingredients on your table.

“You can do that later, we need to start making something so we can have more time to not do shit later.”

“Just make some of your good old kimchi jjigae and have some rice on the side. It’ll keep us feeling warmed up for the night.” You see some packaged pork belly and hand it to Yoongi, “Add a little protein too.”

You’ve helped Yoongi cook in the past, so you have a sense of his cooking process when he decides to make stuff, specifically stew. This won’t take too long to prepare.

“I hate that this is such a good idea.” He groans, grabbing the meat as you smirk right back at him cheekily. “Everyone else on board? I just need the onion and green onions cut, then the pork belly stir fried before I put it all in the big pot for the stew.”

Everyone nods, followed by a “Yes Chef!” from Taehyung. As you get straight to chopping onions, you notice Yoongi looking at you with admiration. You want to know the thoughts that blossom behind his cat-like eyes, but you decide not to ponder it right now.

Taehyung takes a suspicious glance at you two, seemingly wondering about something. Though he remains silent, and instead goes to assist Jungkook and Jieun in preparing ingredients.

++++++++++++

The sky paints hues of orange and pink as the sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow over the campsite. You, Jimin, and Hoseok venture towards a pile of firewood behind the shower houses to build a cozy campfire for the night.

Jimin, ever perceptive, notices the contemplative look on your face. "Hey, Y/N, everything okay?" he asks, concern etched on his face.

You hesitate for a moment before replying. Did he notice you looking at Namjoon and Soyoon earlier? Shit, this is embarrassing. He must be thinking about how ridiculous I’m being.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just stuff on my mind, you know?"

Jimin shoots you a curious glance, silently questioning if you were ready to share what was bothering you.

Before he could delve deeper into your thoughts, Hoseok, his eyes darting around nervously, chimes in, "Guys, let's pick up the pace. It's getting dark, and I'm not really a fan of the dark in the woods. Gives me the creeps!"

You take this interruption as a chance to avoid answering him and focus on the task on hand. Jimin doesn’t push you to continue and you all walk back to the campsite.

+++++

The campfire casts dancing shadows on the faces of your friends as laughter and chatter fills the night. The aroma of the delicious kimchi jjigae lingers in the air. Yoongi and Jungkook busied themselves with slicing fruits and getting out the ingredients to make some s'mores.

Jimin goes to his trunk to take out several boxes of soju bottles, sparking a cheer among the group. The soft strains of music emanate from Hoseok's compact speaker, adding a melodic backdrop to the festivities. Crackling fire, music and the clinking of soju bottles set the perfect ambiance for the end of the B.T.S. member trip day one.

"Alright, why don’t we share some confessions around the campfire to bond with one another. Jin, you wanna kick it off?" Hwasa settles down on the picnic blanket around the fire and grins.

Jin nods, a mischievous glint in his eye, "Huh?! Me? Why don’t you start it off since you want to do this.”

“Give me like three minutes to think of something. So please go for it, Seokjin?”

“Agh, fine. Just don't judge me too hard,” Jin looks around and clears his throat before he continues. “Back in middle school, I tried to impress my crush with a card trick. It didn't go as planned, and I ended up looking like a dumbass magician. Needless to say, she wasn't impressed."

“That was kinda a lame confession.” Hwasa tells him and you try to stifle your laughter next to her.

“I said don’t judge me!” A bit of laughter ripples through the group. “You also didn’t add any rules!”

"If Hwasa wants to hear about embarrassing shit, let me share.” Hoseok eagerly volunteers, “I accidentally liked my crush's old Instagram photo while stalking their profile. It was from two years ago, and there was no way to undo it. I hoped they wouldn't notice, but they did."

“Oh see! That’s what I want to hear!” Your girl bestie yells in excitement.

Soyoon follows after, "Something to confess…I have this quirky habit of talking in my sleep. One time, my roommate caught me in the act and recorded. I talked about kissing girls for a good five minutes."

Namjoon chuckles a little too hard at that. "Funny you mention sleep-talking. I've been told I do the same thing. Apparently, I give motivational speeches about pursuing dreams in my sleep."

“No, you just ramble about shit that sounds like it makes sense when it doesn’t!” Jimin opposes. Namjoon tsks, narrowing his eyes at the younger man.

The round table of confessions continues with Jieun, "Alright, brace yourselves. I had a massive crush on my neighbor when I was in high school. Turns out, he's now a famous actor in every Netflix show imaginable. I had no idea back then."

“Wait who?!” Everyone exclaims.

“I can’t kiss and tell.” She pretends to seal her lips, leaving everyone sighing and groaning.

The stories lighten the mood, but as Hwasa shifts the rules to be only dating confessions, a tension hangs in the air. You decide to tread carefully as your turn, "Well, I had this experience just once… you know, with someone. It was interesting, but things didn't exactly pan out."

“Come on, give us more juicy details! I haven’t heard you talk about this much.” Hwasa presses.

The gazes of Yoongi, Jimin, and Namjoon linger a bit longer, as you navigate through your words, leaving certain details in the shadows.

“Me and that guy were basically academic rivals. Always trying to one-up each other. I beat him and got the Salutatorian honor when I graduated. Jimin was Valedictorian. We never thought we’d date until I asked him to be my fake date to a wedding–”

A collective gasp and “oohs” escapes the group, and Hwasa clasps her hands together, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“It was my brother’s wedding.” Jin adds matter of factly.

“Yes, your brother’s wedding. Then one thing led to another and we dated for about 3 months until we broke up right when I moved for college.”

And now there was suddenly a bit of silence. Did I make the mood awkward? Oh god, maybe I should’ve made something up. You look around and see a bit of disappointment after a short rom-com summary of your first dating experience.

“Why did you need a fake date?” Namjoon was the first of your three best friends to speak up and ask. This catches you off guard.

“I…Er…”

Your hesitant response left an air of curiosity hanging around them. Namjoon's question touches on a chapter of your life you haven’t shared with anyone at all, and now, with the flickering firelight revealing the subtle expressions on everyone's faces, you feel a mix of vulnerability and uncertainty.

Why were you insistent to get a fake date back then? Even thinking about it now, it seems so silly of an idea. What were you trying to prove by having arms linked with a man, who you didn’t originally like, in front of your male best friends?

"It was to spite us. She didn't want to show up alone and have us think she couldn't find a date." Jimin interjects. He must’ve sensed you struggling to answer.

"Spiting us at a wedding? We could’ve just all gone as friends like we did for prom." Namjoon teases, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Was it really spite? Aimed at Namjoon, Jimin and Yoongi for taking other girls instead just going with you? What does that really say about you? Why do you feel unhappy when they don’t have you at the center of their attention? This isn’t a good time to spiral into this.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't the best idea." you chuckle nervously, glancing quickly at Yoongi and Jimin. Their expressions are unreadable, and the silence that follows your story lingers a bit too long.

Hwasa, not one to let awkward moments fester, leans in with a playful smile, "Okay, spill. Was he a good kisser?"

"I…uh, I think this is getting a bit too personal, isn't it?"

The group erupts into laughter, dispersing the tension that momentarily settled. As the night continues, the stories shift to lighter topics, the crackling fire providing a comforting backdrop.

+++++++

The campfire's warmth lingers on your skin as you gather your things from your shared tent, preparing to head to the shower building. The night is settling in, and the laughter of your friends still echoes in the cold air. As you pass by the dwindling group still gathered around the fire, you catch Jimin's eyes for what feels like a minute. There is a depth in his gaze that leaves you wondering if he, too, is navigating through a maze of emotions from earlier today.

It’s been two months, when will you finally make up your mind instead of leaving them hanging?

Your attention is momentarily diverted by a scene that tugs at your heart. Namjoon and Soyoon are sat close, giggling animatedly about an unknown topic in the glow of the firelight. The sight of Namjoon's deepened dimples and the warmth in his smile captivates you, the flames casting shadows on them.

And there it is again. A twinge of an unknown, yet familiar feeling sparks within you. It is a feeling you couldn't entirely shake off, even though you tried to bury it beneath layers of rationality. A mix of emotions swirls as you continue on your way to the shower building.

The path to the shower building is dimly lit along the way, and the sound of laughter at the campsite slowly fades behind you.

Upon reaching the shower building, you notice Yoongi sitting by a picnic table, a dim glow from his cigarette and phone lighting up the darkness around him. It is a sight you haven’t seen in a long time, and concern creeps into your mind. You thought he stopped smoking a while back. Without hesitation, you call out to him and take a seat.

"Hey Yoongs," you begin, studying his expression, "Are you good?"

Yoongi looks up at you, caught off guard by the sudden question. He hesitates to speak, opting instead to take a drag from his cigarette. The smoke curls into the night air, carrying with it a sweet yet bitter scent, reminiscent of cherries.

“Why do you say that?” He finally responds, with a question, however.

“I haven’t seen you smoke since that time.” You refer to the month right before college when Yoongi got word that his father had fallen ill and was admitted to the hospital. Yoongi doesn’t smoke unless he feels like he needs something to keep him afloat while his mind is conflicted in chaos.

“Just felt like I needed it right now.” He explains shortly.

You sense his reluctance to provide context. While you normally don’t like to pry too much when it comes to him, you feel like you should right now. Aside from whatever transparency or honesty rules you have as fuck buddies, you are his best friend at the end of the day.

You sigh softly, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Yoongi. But, you know, I'm here to listen to any of your worries. Anything. That's what best friends are for."

Yoongi's eyes widen a little from your reassuring words. It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts, the ember of his cigarette glowing in the darkness as he begins to speak. "You truly are an angel that comforts me when the world has gone to shit."

You feel your cheeks heating up a bit before following it up with another question, “What’s been troubling you this bad?”

Yoongi scratches his temple anxiously before putting his phone down. “It's just…the mixtape project is weighing on me more than I thought.”

"But you always come up with something amazing when it comes to music. We literally call you the hands of Midas."

He exhales a sigh, the smoke dispersing in the air. "Yeah, but this time it's different. Professor Kang is pushing us hard, and he's been emphasizing how crucial this project is if we want him to recommend us to work for Mr. Bang."

The gravity of his words sinks in. "The Mr. Bang from that one major record label in LA you told me about?"

Yoongi nods, and you can see the anxiety in his eyes. "Exactly. But he’s only recommending two mixtapes out of our 10-person class.” He takes a minute to assemble his next thoughts, finding it hard to speak out the potential outcomes. “This could be a game-changer for my career, but it feels like I'm standing at the edge of a cliff. One wrong move, and everything could just crumble."

You remain silent, absorbing the weight of his concerns. Yoongi told you awhile back that Professor Kang is actually another big producer named Pdogg. The man is incredibly close with Mr. Shihyuk Bang, who is a part of a major record label that Yoongi has been dreaming of joining since high school. You know Yoongi doesn’t want to disappoint anyone, and that carries even more magnitude and pressure to his creative process.

"I've been working day and night, trying to create something that stands out. But with every passing day, doubt creeps in. What if it's not good enough? What if I disappoint everyone who believes in me?" Yoongi admits, his vulnerability laid bare. “Jaebeom really hit a nerve when I saw him a few weeks ago. He’s been working on good stuff too, especially with the help of some upperclassmen. I have Yijeong and Sammy giving me some feedback from time to time, but this is all done by me.”

He extinguishes the cigarette with a firm stomp, the embers scattering in the night air. Discarding the remains into the trashcan next to the table, he releases a heavy sigh, the weight of his thoughts etched on his features.

You recognize the heavy burden he carries. The expectations, the fear of failure, and the desire to prove himself in an industry that can be unforgiving – it's a lot for anyone to handle.

"I get it, Yoongi," you begin, your voice adopting a soothing cadence that seems to meld with the ambient night sounds of the forest around you. "It's a big opportunity, and it's okay to feel overwhelmed. The music industry can be relentless, and there is a lot on the line for your future.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes at you, “Thanks for confirming my fears.” He chuckles.

“Wait! But here's the thing—you're not alone in this. We're all here for you, supporting you every step of the way."

You pause, letting the words linger in the crisp night air. Yoongi looks at you, his gaze a mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

"You've got an incredible talent, Yoongi," you continue, your expression earnest. "I've seen you pour your heart and soul into your music since we were in high school. Your dedication is inspiring, and it's about time the world recognizes it. The journey you’ll take will be tough, but remember, you're not just carrying your dreams. You're carrying the dreams of everyone who believes in you, and that's a powerful force."

Yoongi takes in your words, a subtle nod acknowledging the truth in them. The flickering light from the light post dances in his eyes, reflecting a renewed sense of determination.

"And, hey," you add with a soft smile, "even in the face of challenges, don't forget to savor the process. This journey is as much about the growth and experiences along the way as it is about the destination. Embrace it, and you'll find strength even in the toughest moments." You hold Yoongi’s large hand against your face, comforting him. He always likes his hands being held.

He exhales slowly, as if releasing a burden he didn't realize he was carrying. "Thanks, Y/N," he says, his voice genuine. "I needed to hear that."

Yoongi looks at you, gratitude and a touch of relief in his eyes.

As the heaviness of Yoongi's concerns lifts with your words of support, a more casual conversation takes its place. Yoongi turns to you, his gaze softening, and asks, "What have you been dreaming of lately, Y/N?

You ponder the question. As a second year in college, you haven’t spent much time thinking about it. "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure yet. Maybe a corporate job somewhere nice, stable. I don’t really have much of a dream.” Yoongi looks at you, wanting to dive deeper on that, but you chose to divert the question. “But, no matter what, I hope to be close to you and everyone else until the end of time!"

His eyes widen, filled with admiration and awe at your sincerity. It's a sentiment that seems to touch him, and you feel a sense of warmth between you two. Emotions linger in the air, as if inching closer to understanding something profound.

Suddenly, as if propelled by an internal decision, Yoongi gets up. He extends his hand towards you, his touch gentle as he grabs your wrist. He looks at you with a hint of anticipation and eagerness in his eyes.

You don’t know what he has in mind, but if you’re with Yoongi, you have nothing to fear.

Intrigued, you follow him to the shower building which was empty at this hour in the night. Without a word, he pulls you into one of the shower stalls, closing the curtain behind you both. He starts kissing you, making you gasp into his mouth. As you close your eyes, you feel yourself slipping away, and in the process, accidentally turning on the shower. The water begins to flow, causing your clothes to get wet. In response, Yoongi starts undressing you, peeling off your clothes and tossing them to the side to keep them from getting too soaked. You didn’t mind though. You were going to shower anyway.

The soft sound of running water creates a soothing ambiance. The air fills with a mix of steam and electricity as your lips keep meeting each other again and again, while the world outside the shower stall fades away.

The sounds of water droplets hitting the tiled floor mixes with the soft hum of your shared breaths. There's a delicate dance between you and Yoongi, a silent exchange of emotions that words can never capture.

As the kiss deepens, you find a certain comfort in the connection, a reassurance that goes beyond the worries and pressures of daily life. Yoongi's hands, tender and deliberate, trace a soothing path across the expanse of your back.

He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes fixed on yours. "Y/N," he breathes, his voice a soft murmur that's almost lost in the sound of running water. "Do you want me to keep going?"

All thoughts in your brain are clouded by the horny brain rot brought about by Min Yoongi. This man is probably the most dangerous out of your three best friends.

“Please.”

This is the cue Yoongi needs to suddenly unchain his desires. His hands continue to explore, tracing patterns on your skin, and the heightened awareness of where you are adds a layer of excitement. The sound of the shower and the muffled noises from outside create a cloak of privacy, but at any moment, an impending intrusion could get you both caught. You don’t want to know what consequences await that.

The pure thrill of the situation and the delicate touch of Yoongi’s hands gets you wet with little effort. He breaks away from the kiss, leaning down to swirl his tongue around one of your nipples before turning you around. He kneads your ass in his hands then slips one hand between your thighs. Without warning he pushes one finger inside you with ease.

“So wet for me already?” He whispers into your ear sending a shiver down your spine. He uses his other hand to cup your soft breast.

The sound you choke out is not intelligible which brings a low chuckle to Yoongi’s throat. He slides the finger in and out of you slowly like he’s trying to drive you insane.

When he adds another finger you can’t help the sound that espaces your lips. He moves more quickly building the pleasure inside of you. Yoongi rests his head against your shoulder putting his hands on your waist.

“I don’t have a condom with me.” He groans, mentally beating himself. You turn around to see a pout gracing his lips.

“It’s okay, I’m on birth control now.” You pause looking into his eyes.

“Really?” He says excitement lighting up his face before you can continue.

"Yup," you confirm with a playful wink. "I had been thinking about going on it when we made the deal to include Jimin, and I finally did it over winter break."

Yoongi chuckles, reaching to hold your chin gently with his fingertips, ensuring your eyes stay locked on his. "Such a little minx. You planning to do something scandalous with that?"

You eye him mischievously. "Maybe… but no risks tonight. Let's take it steady for now."

He turns you back around and gently guides your shoulder until you are bent over. He unzips his pants, revealing his hardened cock and holds it in his hand. With no resistance, he glides inside you and groans at the feeling.

You’ve never done this before. Not with Wonwoo. Not with Yeonjun. Yoongi is the first to go raw in you, and it feels so damn good. Every vein and curve of his dick is felt in your pussy, molding itself as the perfect fit. You don’t know if you could ever go back to the feeling of a condom-covered dick, but you’d have to. Though you’d hope that you’d get to be safely creampied at least once before going back to double coverage of condom and BC protection. That’s one of your ultimate goals, though you won’t let them know.

Yoongi traces his fingers up your side as he thrusts into you with long slow strokes. He is enjoying the thrill of being this close to you in such a risky environment and savoring every moment.

You find yourself lost in the intense pleasure he brings, each thrust a wave of delicious sensation that floods your entire body. You arch your back, allowing him deeper access. The slight pain from his movements intertwines with the pleasure, making this experience all the more unforgettable.

Yoongi's gaze never leaves your face, his eyes locked on you as he pushes deeper into your warmth. Your own eyes are wide with passion, the fear of getting caught replaced by the thrill of the moment. His fingers dig into your hip, his expression a mix of raw lust and pure adoration.

"Look at you," he growls, "You're so wet, and so tight just milking me.” He whispers against your ear, driving you slow to become viscerally animalistic. You’re so close.

Suddenly, as if the world wanted to manifest your worst fears, the door swings open. The voices of Hwasa and Soohyun echo through the shower building. Panic sets in, and you tense, trying to stifle any telltale sounds of your current sexcapade. Yoongi, ever the master of composure, holds back a laugh at your panic without halting his movements. How is he not worried?!

"Steam? Oh, someone’s already in here? Is it you, Honey?" Hwasa's voice calls out.

You struggle to respond, caught between pleasure and the risk of exposure. Yoongi's movements pause briefly, awaiting your cue. "Y-Yes," you manage to stutter out despite feeling how good his dick feels stuck inside of you.

Hwasa, seemingly oblivious, starts a conversation with you about the night as the two girls do their nightly skincare at the sinks behind your showers. She begins touching on the earlier confessions and how it was a fun activity. You struggle to act like you're paying attention, but all you can muster in response are muffled "Mhms." Each of them start to sound like moans, which scares you even more. Yoongi looks like he wants to laugh so bad. This won’t end well. Can the girls tell something is off?

The proximity to getting caught adds a thrilling layer to the encounter. Yoongi decides to continue several strokes mid conversation, “A-Ah..”

Hwasa's concern grows. "Are you okay, Honey?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," you manage through gritted teeth, looking back at Yoongi looking smug. You desperately hope they won't linger. Another noise escapes, and you quickly try to cover it up, pretending it was you dropping your shampoo bottle on your toe.

The girls, unsuspecting, leave not too long after, and you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. The tension lifts, and a soft, shared laugh between you and Yoongi echoes in the confined space.

Without warning, this is Yoongi’s cue to go faster. He grips your hips tightly holding you into place as he thrusts into you harder and faster leaving you.

"Y-Yoongi!" He grips your hips tightly holding you into place as he thrusts into you harder and faster leaving you.

Your eyes flutter, a lustful grin pulling at your lips lost in ecstasy. Gripping the shower wall for support, you meet Yoongi's thrusts with equal intensity, your hips bucking back against him in perfect rhythm. The pleasure is overwhelming, the tension and fear of being caught only adding fuel to the fire.

His name from your lips was music to his ears, and that was all he needed. He moves deeper, relishing the tightness of your body around his member. You feel the pleasure coursing through your own body, your orgasm nearing.

Yoongi's eyes never leave your face, his expression showing that he's drinking in each detail of this moment.

"Come for me, baby," he growls, his tone changing from a mix of lust and adoration to something more possessive. "Let me feel you come around my dick."

His words are the spark that lights the fire, and you feel your body reacting to his touch. The waves of pleasure crash over you, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. Your nails hold onto dear life, and you cry out his name, your voice echoing in the shower stall.

“F-Fuck.” Yoongi soon falls to his own pleasure, pulling out quickling and cumming on your ass. Drops of his cream drip down your thighs and soon washed away by the shower downpouring on you two.

You both try to control your breathing as Yoongi holds you close in an embrace.

“T-That was…oh my God.” You can’t find the words to explain the whole experience, added with the adrenaline rush of getting caught.

“Good to know my cock feels better without the condom.” He smiles in a goofy way, still high on the orgasm. You smack him in the hip with your hand.

When your orgasms subsides, you send Yoongi to go retrieve your toiletries, towel, and pajamas that you left outside by the picnic table you two sat. You two bid goodbye to each for the night, and he leaves. You don’t know how he’s going to explain why he’s soaked from head to toe, but you pray he’s slick enough to avoid any eyes.

+++++++++

As Yoongi walks back from the shower house, water droplets cling to his tousled hair and drip down onto his damp clothes. His steps are sluggish as he wearily tries to wring out the water. In this moment, Namjoon suddenly strides up, his curiosity piqued, eyes narrowing at the unusual sight.

"Yoongi, why the hell are you all wet?" Namjoon questions, checking out the shorter man up and down.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Just checking out the shower building, man. One of them was broken and here I am." He cheekily points to his wet attire. He feels a euphoric confidence after his rendezvous with you. So much so that if anyone tries to challenge him right now, he will not back down.

Namjoon narrows his eyes, finding it a little hard to believe. "Really? I thought I saw you go smoke alone back at the picnic area."

Oddly, this observation pisses him off.

"Didn’t know you liked stalking my whereabouts too." Yoongi is quick to rebuttal, bitterness lacing in his voice. Namjoon is taken aback by his best friend’s response.

"What are you even talking about? Aren’t you the one hiding—" Just as Namjoon is about to press further, Jimin appears, interrupting the conversation.

“What are you guys up to?” Jimin puts his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders, which makes him relax slightly. He knows Jimin can manage to get Namjoon off his ass. He might even say that Jimin is his second angel tonight.

Namjoon glances between both of them, the tension palpable in the air. Yoongi's demeanor seems a tad defensive, and Namjoon feels there might be more to the story than he thought before.

“Just trying to figure out why Yoongi here looks like he went for a swim."

Yoongi rolls his eyes, dismissing Namjoon's inquiry. "Shower issues, Jimin. Nothing to worry about."

"Come on Joon, let's not make a big deal out of this. It's cold, and we're out in the middle of nowhere. Let’s just get him a towel and help him get a change of clothes." Jimin says casually, diverting Namjoon's attention away from Yoongi.

As Yoongi gives Jimin a subtle nod of gratitude, Namjoon reluctantly lets the matter go, deciding to drop the interrogation for now to help. Jimin seems to have an idea about Yoongi's whereabouts in the last 30 minutes, and he's not spilling the beans to Namjoon.

“If you think I haven’t caught on to you guys getting closer to Y/N in the last few months, you’re wrong.” The taller man says, warning heeding his voice.

The shorter men glance at him, not saying anything and enter Yoongi’s tent. They do share one thought at that moment though. You have to give them an answer once they come back to campus.

+++++++++

January 20 [Sunday]

The second day of the camping trip unfolds, and the group embarks on a hike through the scenic surroundings early in the morning after breakfast. The weather, though chilly, is pleasant, and the crisp air invigorates everyone. Conversations ebb and flow as the trail winds its way through the tree-filled landscape.

Jieun, a few steps ahead, animatedly shares memories of visiting this place during her childhood. "I remember catching fireflies by the lake in the summer." she reminisces, her eyes reflecting the nostalgia. Seokjin, walking beside her, chimes in with a grin, "I used to come here a lot too when I was a boy scout.”

Hoseok, Taehyung and Jungkook snicker in response to this.

“You guys can laugh all you want, but these boy scout skills come in handy."

"I don't know about them, but for sure Jungkook can fight a bear barehanded." Yoongi playfully remarks, the group erupting into even more laughter. Jungkook, sporting a lighthearted grin, flexes his muscles jokingly.

As you walk, you notice Namjoon and Soyoon strolling together. Soyoon, despite the chilly weather, wears a form-fitting pine green turtleneck that lacks the expected thermal warmth. Namjoon, ever the gentleman, notices her discomfort from the cold and offers his jacket. She initially refuses, probably mindful of the potential interpretations of their exchange. But after Namjoon continues insisting, he finally accepts with a gracious smile.

Behind Namjoon, you see Hoseok also catches the scene and shoots him a disapproving look.

Further back, Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin seize the opportunity to tease Namjoon about his chivalrous gesture. "Look at Mr. Romantic over there." Jimin smirks, nudging Taehyung and Jungkook.

"I bet he practices that move in front of a mirror." Taehyung chuckles with them.

Namjoon, momentarily caught off guard by their reactions, glances at them and then immediately at you. He seems to be searching for a reaction. You know you struggle at being fake. It’s not in your nature to hide your feelings. Though, you feel like he does sense a subtle frustration from you. He wonders if you have been feeling like this for some time. Why is he starting to see it only now?

Before he even has the chance to go over to you and question it, the sky suddenly transforms, heavy raindrops plummet from the clouds and onto the earth. Great. It's as if the weather gods have decided to test you and see what you would do. However, panic sets in when you realize you left your laptop in the tent, vulnerable to the impending downpour.

“Holy fuck! My laptop!”

“Wait, Y/N!”

Hastily, you dash back down the path toward the campgrounds, your footsteps echoing in the mud leaving behind a voice that calls out to you.

You worked on your assignment last night in the tent before going to sleep. Once you finished for the night, you left your laptop next to you and that was where you last saw it this morning before you left on the hike as well. There are no signs it was going to rain this weekend. Yeah, the soil seems moist from rainy days from the prior week, but everyone should’ve been safe now. How could the weather change so suddenly like this?

You recklessly sprint, fueled by worries of your irreplaceable laptop and paper, amongst other things. Like reality. And the irritation you feel seeing Namjoon keep giving his attention to— Your thought process cuts as you notice the uneven terrain beneath your feet become treacherous. The realization of the potential catastrophe awaiting you propels you forward, a surge of adrenaline pushing you beyond reason.

In your haste, disaster strikes. A misstep, a slippery surface, and you find yourself sprawled on the ground.

No sound from you, but pain radiating from your scraped knee and throbbing ankle. The once jubilant group following behind is now consumed by concern seeing you on the ground, injured and covered in mud.

Jungkook and Jieun are the first to reach you, genuine worry etched across their faces. "Are you okay?" Jungkook's voice carries a note of genuine concern. Wincing in pain, you shake your head, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "I left my laptop in the tent, and I can't let anything happen to it, so I rushed off." you explain, your words rushed and pained. You feel yourself about to sob as you try to get yourself to stand and your legs are not cooperating.

“Hey, hey, be careful.” The younger man advises. However, the pain makes walking nearly impossible. Before anyone can offer help, Jungkook immediately leans down and decides,“You know what, just get on. I’ll take you somewhere safe.” Jungkook offers, gesturing you to get on his back.

The unexpected gesture catches you off guard.

“O-Okay…thank you Jungkook.”

“I’ll help retrieve your laptop as well. You’ll be okay” Jieun says, and you thank her.

However, as Jungkook carries you through the rain-soaked trail, glances are exchanged among the group. Jimin and Yoongi share a look laden with unsaid sentiments, a subtle pang of jealousy lingering in the air. It should’ve been them to help you, they think to themselves. They are the ones that like you after all. Though for some reason, they froze in that moment.

Namjoon, still grappling with the aftermath of his earlier actions, feels a tinge of disappointment in his own inability to respond swiftly too.

You, Jungkook, and Jieun are the first to make it back to witness the mess. The campsite now lies in disarray. Flooded and muddy soil squelches beneath Jungkook’s feet, and the aftermath of strong winds has left tents in tatters. Items that were once neatly arranged outside the tents now scatter across the ground, casualties of nature's sudden fury.

Amidst the chaos, Jieun takes charge, her quick eyes scanning the wreckage. Miraculously, your laptop emerges unscathed, protected by the cocoon of your sleeping bag. With a relieved smile, she carefully places it in its bag next to it and hands it to Jungkook, who holds it securely.

"We can't stay out here like this," Jin remarks, his practicality cutting through the disappointment that hangs in the air. "It could rain again and we could also get sick."

A collective sigh ripples through the group. The abrupt turn of events forces them to confront the reality of their situation. Plans of an idyllic hike and spending a weekend outdoors have been derailed by the unpredictability of nature.

"I can go check the cabin lodging next to the campsite to see if they have any available," Soyoon suggests, her willingness to take charge evident. Namjoon quickly volunteers to accompany her, the two of them lightly jog toward the lodging office.

In the meantime, everyone takes shelter under the picnic area until the downpour turns into light showers. Once it does, everyone starts packing up and cleaning the campsite in the meantime.

++++++++++++++++++

Luckily, Soyoon and Namjoon manage to book a large cabin by the lakefront.

“It was the only largest one available that could fit all of us. It’s also a little expensive…” Namjoon stated earlier. Seokjin shrugs, saying he’ll cover majority of the cost as long as everyone is able to chip in a little. We all agree. You thank god that Seokjin is the rich friend in the friend group during times like this.

The cabin charms with its cozy allure. A fully stocked kitchen was just what everyone needed right now. The gas BBQ included will definitely be useful to the meats that survived the storm. The upstairs living room invites relaxation with comfy seating and a Smart TV. Everyone immediately takes advantage of this and sits around.

Outdoors, the upper deck beckons with stunning views. Downstairs, the master bedroom offers luxury, a California King bed, and a sliding door to the lower deck overlooking the lake.

Four rooms in total provide ample sleeping space, including a bunk room with two sets of twin bunk beds. Practicality meets convenience with a fully equipped laundry room and an upstairs half bath.

Jungkook carries you into the master bedroom and lays you down on the bed, elevating your head with the pillows. Seokjin grabs a first aid kit he found in the kitchen and takes out bandages, disinfectant and other supplies to tend to your scraped knee and sprained ankle.

“See, told you my boy scout skills will come in handy!” You giggle at Jin’s attempt to cheer you up. As he works, Namjoon hovers nearby, his concern evident.

"You should’ve been careful." Namjoon murmurs, a gentle scolding in his tone.

You manage a sheepish smile, acknowledging his warning. Seokjin finishes the impromptu first aid session, making sure you're comfortable before stepping back.

"Thank you, Jin," you express your gratitude, relieved that the injuries aren't as severe as they could have been.

Seokjin waves it off, "No problem. Just take it easy for a while."

Jin and Jungkook disperse to join the others upstairs. Jimin and Yoongi, lingering at the doorway, exchange a glance.

Jimin steps forward, concern etched on his face. "How are you feeling, Honey?” he asks, sincerity in his eyes.

You nod, offering a reassuring smile. "Alright now, thanks to Jinnie. Thanks for worrying, Jimin."

Yoongi, standing a bit more reserved, adds, "Do you need anything? I can whip up some food."

"That would sound really good right about now."

"Give me about 20 minutes, and I'll come back with some sweet rice porridge. Sounds good?"

"Yes!"

Namjoon remains standing there watching your interaction with them. He feels somehow intimidated by how they're so much closer to you despite you all having the same title of "best friends".

He glances at your laptop on the nearby table trying to find a reason to remain here. While part of him wants to join the others upstairs, he lingers. Maybe he needs to let you know about his feelings soon before his relationship with you strains any further.

He sighs loudly, making you all look at him, “I’ll come back to talk to you later.” He excuses himself and follows Yoongi upstairs, leaving Jimin alone with you.

Aside from the fact that he’s upset that you got hurt, you’re not sure what else could be fueling an unknown frustration behind his eyes. You guess you’ll find out later.

Jimin has some thoughts about Namjoon’s behavior, but decides not to voice them right now and gives his attention back to you.

“You need to get out of these clothes, love. They’re really muddy and gross.” He comments, looking at you with a disgusted expression, making you laugh.

“I would try, but I literally can’t move much.”

“I’ll help you.”

Huh? Did Jimin just say he’ll help you undress yourself? You find yourself feeling very flustered suddenly. What if someone walks in? Locking the door seems suspicious but what else can you do?

“I-It’s fine! I’ll just try removing my clothes slowly one piece at a time!” You wave your hands frantically, creating a makeshift barricade against Jimin's helpful hands.

“Why are you being so shy right now? I’ve seen you naked at least 15 times by now.” he remarks, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

“H-Hey! Shut up! What if someone hears you?”

“Everyone’s upstairs, probably playing board games in the living room. Yoongi won’t be back for another 10 minutes or so. Plus he’s seen you naked too.” He checks his phone. “And he just texted the Sanctuary chat to say that he’ll come in whenever I’m done.” He flashes the text messages Yoongi sent.

You can’t continue arguing with a concerned Jimin, so you decide to surrender.

“Fine, just be quick.”

Jimin's eyes turn into crescents, satisfied he won this battle. He carefully removes your lilac puffer jacket, followed by your black converse sneakers and then your medium washed jeans covered in mostly dried mud and blood from your knee scrape. When he finishes gently unbuttoning your cropped long-sleeve polo shirt and removing it, he starts giggling. Perplexed, you shoot him a puzzled look, unsure what’s so funny to him. I mean, sitting here half naked is humiliating, so maybe you deserve it. You’ve been acting reckless.

“You’re just so pretty, Y/N. Never thought I’d be in a situation to even see you like this before the deal we made.”

Heat fills your face and you can’t even find words to rebuttal his claims. Why have those two men been saying things that make you feel like you’re going insane?

Jimin knows you feel embarrassment, but pays no mind as he unclasps your black bra, removing it and leaving your breasts bare. He decides to tease you a bit more and softly grasps your breasts, squishing them with his hands. Your eyes widen, suddenly feeling a surge of heat radiating elsewhere due to your chests’ sensitivity.

“I really never realized how beautiful you look naked before.” he admits with a playful tone. He continues with his massage until you finally fight back the horny demon that he awakens in you. Not today, Satan.

You playfully smack his arm, urging him to stop. “O-Okay, Jimin! I get it! Just give me that oversized t-shirt from my duffle and leave before I go crazy.”

He chuckles, relinquishing his playful antics and retrieving the desired t-shirt from your bag. “Glad I was able to cheer you up a bit, darling. We’ll have fun another time.”

Once he ensures you're comfortably tucked in, he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead before exiting the room.

Oddly, that felt a lot more intimate than all the sex you two had before. It feels like you two are inching closer to a new territory beyond whatever fuck buddy and best friend relationship you have. You feel a little scared, but somewhat excited.

Before you can dwell on it further, you feel your body become heavier and you gradually drift into a peaceful slumber. You make just a small mental note to apologize to Yoongi for falling asleep before he can feed you some of his porridge.

+++++++++++

Several hours have passed and it is 2:30PM by the time you wake up from your nap. You were hoping to sleep for the rest of the day to avoid whatever confrontation Namjoon wants to have. You are still feeling tingles from the interaction you had with Jimin, but it proved too difficult with your sprained ankle getting in the way. There is also a group of your friends upstairs that will get suspicious at his sudden disappearance if that did happen.

Hwasa has sent you text updates regarding what everyone else is doing upstairs.

Hyejinnie [12:00PM]: I’m going to send you updates so you don’t feel FOMO Hyejinnie [12:01PM]: Wait you might.. I’m sorry bestie. ;( Welp, we are playing board games and eating snacks! Hyejinnie [1:22PM]: I’m helping ur boyfie make lunch with jieun eonnie. Oh and we’re all going to eat kbbq for dinner. Don’t miss out Hyejinnie [1:25PM]: wait not your boyfie i forget he’s just your fwb right now oops. pls ignore. Hyejinnie [2:07PM]: also you need to catch me up on whatever is going on with you and your.. friends. Don’t think i haven’t caught on ;p Hyejinnie [2:14PM]: I think we’re going to watch a movie now. Jieun said she’s going to show us a movie her old crush was in and we have to guess who it is lol Hyejinnie [2:25PM]: idk if you’re up from your nap, but let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in the living room watching the movie with everyone else. Some of the guys are on their phones though haha

You appreciate her consistent updates while you remain MIA from the trip festivities. Maybe you should take this quiet time as a chance to get back to working on your paper. You just need a few more paragraphs and a final revision before submitting it on Canvas.

Just as you plop your laptop on your lap, a strong knock is heard at the door. You yell to whoever is on the other side of the door that it's okay to enter. It turns out to be Namjoon.

You don’t feel mentally ready to talk to him yet. You’re honestly not sure if you can come up with any cohesive thoughts as you remember that you haven’t eaten since this morning. You glance around and see the bowl of porridge Yoongi must’ve left on the bedside table while you slept.

“I wanted to come in sooner, but Yoongi told me you fell asleep.”

You nod. “I felt really exhausted after that hike, the run and injury, so I knocked out once I felt safe enough to do so.”

“So is now a good time to talk?”

You feel hesitant to say yes, knowing another lecture from your tall, beefy best friend awaits you. You’re so over this trip. Despite all these feelings, you decide just to do it and get it out the way so you can eat.

You nod. “Okay, what did you want to ask me?”

“Why have you been acting really weird lately?”

He doesn’t hesitate to get straight to the point, which doesn’t surprise you much. Okay, so you’ve been caught. But what about you has been weird to him though? Does that mean the others have caught on to your behavior too?

You feign ignorance. “Can you elaborate by what you mean, Namjoon?” Your voice sounds deadpan, with a hint of coldness.

“Can you stop acting like you don’t know what you’re doing when you’ve been staring at me and Soyoon throughout this whole trip?”

Oh.

You shrug. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He ignores your remark and continues, “I already told you before. There is nothing going on between me and her, so you can just stop feeling jealous or whatever.”

Jealous? What?! How dare he make that accusation. You’re not jealous. You’re just worried for the sake of your friendship. There’s no other feelings tied to that…is there? Memories from the party in October where you saw Namjoon and Jihyo flash in your mind.

“No the fuck I’m not!” you immediately deny, a little too quick at that.

“Yes, you fucking are.” he smiles, knowing how right he is based on your defensive response.

“You’re sorely mistaken, Joon.”

“No, I’m not, Y/N. I noticed this even when I was seeing Jihyo and the girl before that. For some reason, you’re always acting off when another girl is involved with me.” He explains further.

Fuck. He really caught on to that a little too well. You know what, maybe he is right. Maybe you’re not jealous out of concern that these girls that keep showing up in Namjoon’s life will take him away from you. It’s really because you wish you were in their place. Being so intimately closer to him than you have ever been. Another flying thought of Yoongi’s questions that caused you to spiral comes to mind.

“You literally do that to me! I couldn’t even go somewhere without you acting weird and accusing me of hanging out with other men who do not live in our house.”

“That’s different.” He rubs the crease between his brows, you press your lips even tighter in frustration. “Plus, I don’t even think I trust some of the ones that do live in our house.”

Namjoon’s comment has you puzzled. What is he trying to imply?

“Why do you think that?”

“I’ve just had a feeling that something weird is going on, and everyone seems to know except for me.”

Shit, everyone? You’ve been cautious this whole time except when you first slept with Yoongi, leading Jungkook to find out. But Jin, Hoseok and Taehyung? Have they somehow realized and have been quiet about it. There’s no way to address something you don’t even know. You have to redirect the conversation.

“You say that, but you’re the one being so vague about why you've been so buddy buddy with Soyoon lately.” You mutter with an attitude, crossing your arms. “You don’t have to hide it and lie to me if you’re interested in her. Just go date her already.”

Namjoon scoffs. He walks closer to you, outstretching his arms on both of your sides, caging you. He’s so close, smelling like the fresh wood sage cologne he sprays on after a shower. For some reason, this smell is more intoxicating right now than ever before. Your heartbeat feels like it’s increasing from the close proximity. This isn’t even the first time you’ve been this close to him, but there’s some kind of energy making you feel anxious than before.

“Because I don’t fucking want to.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“You.” Namjoon mouths out, words so quiet feeling like only you two are meant to hear.

“Huh? Me?” You scrunch your eyebrows while whispering at him. “Is my jealousy really getting in the way of you being happy?”

“You’re one of the smartest people I know and you still want me to spell it out for you?” He chuckles bitterly, seemingly feeling like he’s going to regret the next sentence that’s going to come out of his mouth.

You nod, “Yes, because I’m still confused about your actions and I’m tired of the constant misunderstandings and fights— ”

“Because I’m in love with you.”

The world suddenly goes silent for what feels like a thousand minutes.

Your mouth is left agape, unable to find any reason to continue speaking. Whatever thought bubbles filled your head with anger and anxiety are now gone. You find it hard to gather the next words you say from looking right into Namjoon’s dragon eyes, mesmerizing you.

“Y-You’re in l-love with me.” The realization escapes your lips, rather shaky, The words hanging in the air, charged with an unexpected gravity.

Namjoon takes a deep breath, his eyes holding a mix of determination and vulnerability. "Yes, I've been in love with you for a long time. Soyoon was in the process of helping me confess to you on Valentine's Day, but with you acting jealous and making up scenarios in your head, I couldn't keep it a secret any longer."

Your mind races, processing his confession. Namjoon, your best friend, has just declared his love for you. The first one out of your friends… but is he? You vaguely remember Yoongi saying something similar during that one party, but you brushed it off. There’s also Hwasa’s observations… Jimin’s kiss on his birthday…

Oh no.

The gravity of the situation sinks in, and your internal conflict intensifies. You're entangled in a complicated fuck buddies deal with Yoongi and Jimin, who potentially may be in love with you too. And now a lot of these things are starting to make sense,

Then there’s Namjoon's words adding a new layer of concern. How will this confession affect your shit with Yoongi and Jimin? You like all of them but do you love them? You also do not live in a perfect universe to be dating all of them. Would they even want that?

Namjoon must sense your anxiety skyrocketing, because he leans in and kisses your forehead. And for just a bit, you go back to feeling floaty. You want to feel like this all the time, but it’s not going to happen anytime soon. You have things to resolve.

“You probably have a lot on your mind. I do too.” He cups your cheeks, sincerely staring into your eyes. “You don’t have to answer me right now. I just wanted to ease your mind before anything else happens.”

You nod back slowly, waiting for him to continue.

“I might be gone for the fall semester.” He starts, moving over to sit on your bed.

Oh.

“I applied for a study abroad law program in New Zealand and Korea. I’ll be in my last year and my parents told me over winter break that they want me to go abroad and gain some new experience. I see Yoongi working so hard and I feel like I haven’t been doing much at all.”

This new information comes as a shock to you, and you feel excited for him, yet sad for several reasons

Namjoon had fought with his parents last summer about wanting to pursue a career as an archivist or art conservator. They said it wasn’t ideal and that he should focus on being a civil servant and then become a politician. He came over to your house once and stayed the night in your room, shedding tears about how his parents didn’t understand him.

The second reason is more selfish: You’ve never been apart from Namjoon for a long time since you first met him. Sure, since you guys have a one year age difference, there were times that you weren’t at the same school together. Though, it’s not like you never saw each other at least some point in the week. You’re neighbors after all. This would be different. Maybe there will be an occasional facetime call or texts sent during different time zones from him retelling his adventures. Though it won’t be the same as having him with you. You’re not going to admit that right now though.

“So you’re not going to pursue art and become an archivist or art conservator anymore?”

“I…I am. I’ll find a way to prove to my parents that I can do this and be successful. I’ll network, find a way to get into that space more. Studying abroad would be a great way to do that.” He explains softly.

You remember the question Yoongi had asked yesterday about your dreams. You still feel like you don’t have a concrete answer, but seeing the way your older best friends try so hard makes you think you should start focusing on that as well. You wonder if Jimin has any thoughts of his own regarding the future too.

Namjoon continues to converse with you about his future plans and why he had to confess to you now, as he didn’t want it to be “too late” and regret it later on. While you don’t ask him what he meant by that, you kind of had an idea.

++++++++

Once Namjoon leaves your room to rejoin everyone upstairs, the floaty and relaxed feeling inside you fades away and you immediately start to feel like shit.

The truth begins to bear down on you: Yoongi and Jimin's friends-with-benefits arrangement might not be just a casual fling. They probably like you too — well, more than a best friend. The deal was probably to act as a trial period, a way for them to express their feelings without the complexity of a formal confession and for you to realize some repressed feelings. Although now, with Namjoon's direct and sincere confession, you just simply don’t know what to do anymore.

Things were easier when you didn’t have to think about this much originally with Yoongi. Just have sex from time to time and still remain best friends. When Jimin managed to seduce you, awakening something within you, and get added as fuck buddy #2, you had stepped into a dangerous zone. Now the thought of Namjoon getting added to that…

No! He’d never do it. He’s not as open-minded and insane to become your third fuck buddy. If he found out, you don’t think he’d be happy. He’d probably murder Yoongi and Jimin for hiding and doing such an insane thing. Then you’d be next. And even if you’d add Namjoon to this fuck buddies trial deal, you don’t think anyone would be happy in the end.

You love them all. No favoritism for one over the others. They all have something that makes you feel butterflies, whether you realized it before or not.

Is this the perfect time to talk to Hwasa about your dilemma? You don’t even think you’ve told her about you and Jimin, but she’s perceptive. She probably saw some signs, but hadn’t commented on them.

You [4:03PM]: Hey Hwasa, we need to have a girl talk time. Hyejinnie [4:04PM]: Say no more! I’m telling Jungkook to come carry you up so we can talk in my room.

And just when you received that message, Jungkook shows up at the door and bows to you.

“I have been requested to bring up the Honey Princess to Hwasa’s room.”

You laugh. He’s adorable, you think. “Yes? Please take me up, Sir Jungkook.”

Jungkook carries you on his back once again, up the stairs. You take a glance of Yoongi, Jieun, Jin and Namjoon in the kitchen, preparing dinner before you are in Hwasa and Soohyun’s shared room at the end of the hall. Jungkook comments that he’s getting you ice to make your ankle’s swelling go down, leaving the room. You faintly hear him scolding your guy besties for not doing that earlier, making you guys laugh. He comes back with a bag of ice and then exits the room, closing the door in the process.

Hwasa greets you with a warm smile as you settle onto the bed, propping yourself up against the pillows. This bedroom is adorned with fairy lights, creating a cozy atmosphere that contrasts the turmoil in your mind. Hwasa, perceptive as always, senses that something serious is on your mind.

"So spill, what's going on?" she asks, her eyes filled with concern.

You take a deep breath, contemplating where to begin. "Remember my thing with Yoongi…” You whisper, hoping no one outside could hear. The TV is pretty loud playing someone’s Spotify playlist though.

“Yes, of course! Are y’all still…”

“We are.” Hwasa nods in response. “I’ve been keeping things lowkey so I haven’t told you much advancements, but I also started doing that with Jimin."

Her eyes widen, not in surprise, but more in confirmation of her past observations. “I figured that might’ve been the case when I kept seeing you be a little more touchier than usual in class last semester."

Your face reddens as you remark. “Nothing really passes by you, does it?” Hwasa can’t help but laugh at your reaction.

“You’re literally living the dream!” She holds both of your hands, intrigued at your ‘love life’. “They’re two of the finest frat boys on this campus. I don’t see how there can be a problem.”

"Except there is…" you admit, unraveling your overall deal with Jimin and Yoongi, your thoughts about them probably liking you and the argument you had with Namjoon earlier. As you share the details, Hwasa listens attentively, offering occasional nods and empathetic expressions.

"Wow, that's…a lot," she remarks when you finish. "And now Namjoon dropped the bomb? He’s equally as hot too."

You nod, feeling the weight of the situation. "Exactly. I never expected him to confess. I didn’t think he felt that way about me. Now, I'm stuck in this mess, and I don't know what to do!" You fall back onto the pillows, looking at the ceiling in frustration.

Hwasa places a comforting hand on yours. "First things first, take a deep breath.” You do. “It's a lot to process, but you'll figure it out. Now, tell me how you feel about each of them. Let’s start with Jimin"

“Jimin is someone who I feel comfortable with to try new things. He’s always managed to get me out of my shell and without him, I don’t think I’d be the person I am today. He’s also really kinky in bed so…Soft dom vibes?”

“Okay, spicy, I see! And Yoongi?”

“Yoongi feels like my soulmate…even Jimin pointed it out. We’re so in tune with one another that I don’t feel so on edge around him. I feel more relaxed. But I’m so emotionally driven and sometimes he doesn’t get that. Though he does try. Always does.”

Hwasa coughs repeatedly, “How’s the sex?”

“I… It’s really fucking good. Getting fingered by a man who plays the guitar is another worldly experience. Ten out of ten.” Hwasa squeals hearing this, but quickly covers her mouth to avoid anyone coming in concerned.

“Well holy shit. I guess that leaves Namjoon?”

“Namjoon, right.” You haven’t thought about it much before, but it was mainly because you’ve tried not to see him like that. He was obviously attractive with his muscles and tall height. His brains are another thing. “Aside from how obviously hot he’s always been, his mind is just so eloquent. He’s such a big brother at times and while I get annoyed at his lecturing, he makes me feel grounded and keeps challenging me to work harder. I don’t know what else to say?”

You find that articulating your emotions brings a sense of clarity. Hwasa provides thoughtful insights and asks probing questions, guiding you through the maze of your own emotions.

Once you've laid out your feelings, Hwasa leans back, pondering. "Alright, here's what I think. You need to have an honest conversation with all of them. Start off with Yoongi and Jimin, then somehow get Namjoon in that conversation. Lay your cards on the table, and let them know where you stand. It's the only way to avoid misunderstandings and hurt feelings."

You sigh, realizing the truth in her words. "But what if I can't choose between them? What if I ruin everything?"

Hwasa smirks, "Then, my dear, you need to consider a different kind of arrangement—one that works for all parties involved. But that's a discussion for another day. For now, focus on being open and honest with them. You owe it to yourself and to them."

“You’re right. Thank you Hwasa for hearing me out on my crazy dramatic life. I appreciate you so much.” You gesture her to get closer so you can give her a hug, and she does.

+++++++++++

After your heart-to-heart with Hwasa, Jungkook comes in to let you know that dinner is ready and that he’ll be taking you over there. You appreciate his kindness.

The delicious aroma of the meat wafts through the air as you enter the kitchen, where the group is gathered around the table, engaged in lively conversation.

Jin, always the culinary maestro, tells everyone to take their seats. As you settle in, you can't help but glance at your three best friends at different points during the meal.

Yoongi is focused on grilling meat, his brows furrowed in concentration. The subtle scent of his cooking skills fills the air, momentarily distracting you from your internal conflict. You catch his eye, and there's a silent understanding between you two.

Jimin, sitting across from you, steals occasional glances your way. His gaze is warm and comforting, reassuring you that no matter the complications, he's there for you. A small smile passes between you that speaks volumes.

Namjoon, busy discussing something with Hoseok, occasionally looks in your direction. There's a mix of emotions in his eyes—longing, and perhaps a touch of hope.

The dinner is filled with laughter and camaraderie as the trip ends tonight. You try to savor the meal and the company, but the weight of the unspoken hangs in the air.

As the night progresses, you find yourself more restless. The uncertainty of your situation gnaws at you. Once dinner concludes, you and the other girls go to the living room to watch some youtube videos on the smart TV. As they busy themselves talking about stuff, you grab your phone and open the group chat with Yoongi and Jimin.

You [8:45PM]: Valentine’s Day. I’ll give you my decision.

Sending the message, you brace yourself for the conversations that lie ahead. Whatever happens, you face it headstrong.

–

tbc :O a/n: uh-oh we're getting to the conflicting part hehehehe !!! i apologize for the delay getting this chapter out. i am currently working on some big things and doing some interviews so the fic had been neglected for a month or so, but i am back for a bit and already working on CH 8 as well! Anyone have any thoughts or theories on what Y/N will decide to say? i'd love to hear about them so lmk hehehe thank you all for reading!

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ohforficsakelibrary · 5 months

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Woodsmoke

masterlist

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Gender Neutral Reader. No physical descriptions of reader beyond having hair. Reader has a cat. Established but new-ish, implied long-distance-ish relationship.

Summary: Life has been running you ragged lately, but someone is waiting for you when you get home. For a moment, you don't have to be strong.

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of difficult family life, attending therapy, absent parents, wounded inner child, loneliness as a general theme. If I've missed anything, please do tell me.

Word Count: ~1.6K

Rating: General? Two curse words and some kissin'. The remainder of my work is 18+ / minors DNI.

A/N: I do not know about y'all but I have been going through it lately. And Frankie Morales is my comfort character. This is not along the lines of my usual writing, and for that reason, I haven't tagged anyone. But I'm sharing it on the off chance that you, like me, just need a hug. I know this time of year isn't the easiest for a lot of us, and I hope maybe this gives you a little comfort. Comfort!Frankie, if you will. Please heed the warnings and read with care.

You are worthy of love.

You don’t have time to cry.

Not right now, on this highway, snowflakes flying towards you like crystalline stars at a speed twenty miles per hour slower than the speed you’d be moving at if they weren’t.

You can’t see the lines on the road even without tears in your eyes.

One thing at a time.

Like everything lately.

Just follow the tracks of the car in front of you until it gets you home.

Home to your house that’s empty save for a grumpy tabby cat.

Most days you swear your existence hinges on his.

He’s been your thing to look forward to for the last fifteen years.

Well, and Frankie is visiting this week.

Provided that this storm doesn’t shut the airport down.

Fuck.

It’s not that you hadn’t been doing well without him.

It’s that you hadn’t been doing well.

Too long without a mental break. Exhaustion that seeps with the cold into your bones.

Too many things on a to-do list that you can’t bring yourself to do on the weekends because it’s too long and your own time is so short.

Maybe it’s some malefic arrangement of stars and planets, perhaps.

You haven’t even started buying holiday gifts.

And it sends you face-first into the dread of making a trip back home.

The place that was supposed to be your home.

And dread is the correct word, even if your therapist says you're making real progress.

See, the thing is, your therapist doesn’t have to sit in the contents of the box of shit you dug out from the corner of your brain and emptied all over the floor of your mind.

She only helps you sort through it every other Tuesday.

It was in the box for a reason.

It was easier to carry that way.

_____

When finally you pull into your driveway and step out into fresh snow, it’s the smell that hits you first.

Woodsmoke.

Someone has started up the wood stove so that you don’t go cold, but you hadn’t been expecting company. You figure it’s your best friend who has a key and a standing invitation, and you’re not necessarily opposed to them being here.

Sharing a bottle of wine would probably do you some good.

You stomp snow from your shoes and step inside to offer your layers to the hooks on the wall of the mudroom before you catch sight of the boots in the tray as you toe yours off.

“Frankie?!”

“One sec, babe!”

Frankie.

You wrench open the door that leads through to the kitchen and catch sight of him in front of the sink where he’s draining steaming water from a pot of pasta.

He looks up at you across the kitchen and winks.

“Frankie,” you breathe and he quickly pops the pot back onto a dead burner, slinging oven mitts off a fraction of a second before you collide with his chest.

“Baby,” he whispers, locking you in with an arm around the small of your back and the other at the nape of your neck.

He smells of woodsmoke and cedar and Frankie.

Smells like home.

“You weren’t supposed to be here for another two days,” you pull back and look up into brown eyes framed by mirth-filled creases.

“I was keeping an eye on the weather,” he urges you against him again to nuzzle into your hair, “didn’t want to wait. There’s another front coming behind this one. Took an Uber from the airport. Got in about an hour ago.”

Pilots and their forecasts.

“I’m glad you didn’t wait.”

“So am I,” he tilts your chin up and presses his lips to yours. Soft and sweet. Perfect.

“I made pasta, thought you’d be hungry when you got in.” He grins against your mouth before turning back to the stove to stir tomato sauce. “There wasn’t much in the fridge, but there’s plenty for tonight.” Frankie turns off the burner.

And it’s so new, having a man in your kitchen.

Making you dinner.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I haven’t had the chance to go to the store,” you rake a hand through your hair as he winds a corkscrew into a bottle of wine.

So new, having arms to fall into.

“Don't apologize, babe. We’ll go tomorrow,” he sneaks another kiss as he fills your glass, one hand absently rubbing your back as he does. “Oh, I also fed the cat,” he points to stacked tins of cat food near the fridge, “from that, hope that was okay,” he fills his own glass. “He was hungry and he was insisting on spaghetti but I figured that’s not…”

“Thank you.”

It’s not more than a trembling whisper.

Because you’re fighting back tears.

This man warmed your house and poured you wine and fed your cat and made you a meal.

Because he cares.

Someone cares.

For you.

“Oh, hey no no no, cariño, what’s wrong?” He replaces his glass on the counter and cups your face in one massive palm.

Soothing with a gentle thumb over your cheekbone.

“This is so nice,” you breathe and the tears finally blur his face. “I just—no one has ever done this for me before.”

It leaves your mouth slowly, like you're not even sure if you can say it.

If you're allowed.

Your view is quickly replaced by the grey and red of his sweater.

“There’s nothing I’d rather do, baby.”

And it makes your chest heave with the sobs you can’t hold in any longer as you wrap your arms around his waist, sinking into the way he presses you tighter against his heart.

The wool of his jumper eager to collect all of the tears you haven’t had time to cry.

Because time stands still here, wrapped tight in his embrace.

And Francisco isn’t afraid of your mess.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

He doesn’t ask.

Instead, he tiptoes around the debris of that box to where you weep in the center of the chaos.

To where the child sits with hot tears streaming down their face.

And he looks straight into the heart of you with eyes as soft as the toy you clutch to your chest for comfort.

And offers himself instead.

He offers the breadth of his chest and the strong panes of his back. The vice grip of his arms and the gentle soothing of a palm.

He offers his whole self.

In the stead of the affection you were never given and so learned too well to do without.

In the stead of the wire-framed mother.

In the stead of the shell that should have been a father.

In the stead of all of the unkind words you clung to in the belief that they must be true.

For why else would they not love a child in the way that a child needs love?

For why else were you left lonely for so long?

And the back of your throat goes sore with the burn of his kindness.

Kindness that you still don’t believe you deserve.

“Put it down, baby. Let it go.”

Where Life asked you to soothe yourself.

“I’m here.”

Life offers him to you now.

For Life, it seems, has taken pity on you.

Or perhaps It grew weary of how your grief made It ache.

“I’m here now.”

And so It proffered this apology.

One that you accept in the form of skin and muscle. Bones and blood.

A soft-hearted one with big kind eyes.

And Frankie holds you until the sobbing eases.

And thumbs the tears from your lashes.

Plush lips soften into a crooked smile.

"Are you hungry, cariño?" Whispered softly.

"Yeah," you murmur because you suppose you are.

"Can we sit by the wood stove?" He turns you towards the living room and lays a kiss at the crown of your head.

"Yeah, yeah of course."

"Good, because it's fucking freezing." And that finally pulls a laugh from your throat. "Go on," he smacks you lightly on the bum, "I'll bring you a plate."

You grab both glasses of wine and toss a few throw pillows on the floor before Frankie settles next to you with two shallow bowls heaped with pasta.

_____

When you've finished dinner, plates stacked on the coffee table, cat napping on a throw pillow near the pair of you, Frankie sits back against the sofa and pulls you to sit at his side.

"I'm sorry that I..."

"No," Frankie cuts you off and wraps an arm around your shoulders. "Don't ever apologize to me for feeling, baby."

And you stare down into the dregs of your wine.

"Promise," he prompts with a nudge of his arm.

You look up at him through tired, but grateful eyes. "I promise, Frankie."

"Good," and he kisses you slowly, all warm lips and soft moans.

He regales you with stories from his latest trip until you settle in against him, head tucked under his chin. Lulled by the rise and fall of his breath.

You let him hold you here, with one arm wrapped around your shoulders.

Safe by the gentle heat of a dying fire.

You'll be yourself again tomorrow.

But tonight you allow yourself this.

Frankie kisses into your hairline as you drift between this word and sleep. Your weight against him is soothing as he finishes the last of the wine, eyes trained on the windows beyond, tracking the path of snowflakes on their way to meet the earth again.

"Te comprendo, cariño," he murmurs, resting his cheek against your crown.

"Y creo que te amo."

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x gn!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #tw: loneliness #ohforficsake #I definitely cried while writing this #so I'm sorry if there are mistakes #this was wholly unplanned

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neonghostlights · 1 year

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Series Masterlist

Summary: You haven’t been the same since you woke up in the hospital with memory loss after the earthquake hit Hawkins. When strange things start happening and you feel like you’ve started losing your mind, a group of strangers offer to help. Even though you’ve never met them before, they seem to know you better than you think.

Warnings: Probably incorrect car talk, brief mention of blood and nightmares, I really can’t think of anything else, if I missed anything let me know. 18 + only for my blog, minors DNI

Wordcount: 3.4k

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Part Four

Tuesday, September 16th, 1986

Today was your first day of your new job at Family Video.

You didn’t think you would actually turn in the application but it took just one more bad day at the daycare for you to find yourself stopping by on your way home and basically forcing the application into the hand of the girl behind the counter.

They ended up calling you that same day, maybe just an hour later, to offer you the job. After a very brief phone interview with your new manager, Steve, you were in. Even calling it an interview was generous, he basically just asked for your availability and gave you your start date. He seemed professional over the phone. Not exactly rude but he kept his words short and to the point.

By how quick he hired you, they must be really desperate for help.

You rushed through the house, trying your best not to be late on your first day. Steve seemed nice but from what you remembered, which wasn’t much, he was a real dick in high school. Hopefully he wasn’t the same now.

Honestly the only reason you slightly remembered who he was because of how popular he is in the town. Even your mom knew who he was since she goes to church and is in a book club with his mom.

You threw on your jacket and grabbed your bag and keys before practically running through the front door and jumping into your car.

You turn the key in the ignition once, twice, and then a third just to be met with a strange clicking sound. You pull the key out to examine it just in case there was some defect that magically appeared overnight. You stick the key back in for another unsuccessful try just to groan and throw your head back into the headrest.

Today was going to be a great first day.

After an awkward car ride with your mom, who was still pestering you about your personal medical decisions, you finally made it to Family Video. Your mom was furious to find out that you had left the daycare for a lower paying job. She had even tried to bribe you to just go back home, saying that she would pay any bills. You were already cutting into the inheritance left to you by your father to take care of any bills your paycheck wasn’t covering, so taking any money from her felt like a cop out.

You leapt from the car as soon as she put it in park and practically ran to the front door of the store, happy to escape her nagging voice.

The girl behind the counter, who you still had no clue what her name was, smiled at you brightly and waved. Steve on the other hand kept his features cool and his arms crossed. You were practically panting and sweating by the time you made it to the wooden counter.

“You’re late,” Steve said immediately in a dry tone.

“I know. I am so sorry but my car wouldn’t start so my mom had to pick me up and she is not the fastest driver in town. It won’t happen again,” you rushed out.

Steve nodded silently before leading you to the back room to put your things down. He wordlessly handed you a vest with your name tag as well as an employee handbook.

“Take the handbook home with you to look over. Your schedule is in there as well. I have things to do back here today so you’ll be up at the front with Robin for training. If you have any questions just ask her,” he said.

“Okay,” you said, questioning if this was the right decision. Your coworkers at the daycare weren’t always sunshine and rainbows but at least they would say hello to you or even crack a smile.

This guy just seemed like an asshole.

Steve nodded to the door that led back to the front, silently dismissing you. You scurried away and pulled on your vest and name tag.

After a few hours of stocking and learning how to use the cash register from Robin, your mood had lightened. The day was slow, which Robin said was normal for a Tuesday. Her relentless chattering about anything and everything made the time go by a little faster though.

You had both talked all morning and gotten to know each other a little bit. You were surprised to learn that you had actually gone to school and shared a few classes together.

“So,” Robin said as she leaned against the counter beside you while you waited for Steve to relieve you both for a break, “I heard you say you were having car issues this morning.”

You sighed, good mood ruined at the thought of your car giving up on you. “Yeah, it just wouldn’t start at all. I need to call a few mechanics around town and see if I can tow it to them.” You wrinkled your nose at the thought, already dreading the migraine inducing conversations that you would have.

A sly grin spread across Robin’s face before she twisted her head around as if she was confirming no one could hear what she was about to say. “I know someone actually that’s pretty good with cars. He wont charge you an arm and a leg either. Plus, I can almost guarantee that instead of towing it, he can come to you to work on it,” she said with a whisper.

You tilted your head as you thought. It would make things significantly easier for you for the mechanic to come to you instead. “Are you sure they’d be able to do that for me?” You asked.

“Oh yeah, he will definitely have no problem at all with doing it for you,” she said in a voice that you didn’t understand, almost like something was funny about what she had just said. You were probably just misunderstanding her tone. You were slowly starting to grasp Robin’s personality but sometimes you had a hard time keeping up.

She grabbed your handbook that Steve had given you and flipped to the first page to look at your schedule. “Looks like you're off tomorrow! Perfect. Should I tell him to come by anytime?”

“Yes. That would be perfect. Thank you so much,” you said as you grabbed a sticky note to scribble your address and phone number down on.

Robin smiled down at your cursive writing on the sticky note until Steve walked in to relieve you for break. At the sight of him, she quickly shoved the paper into her pocket and picked up a movie like she was reading the back of it.

“Robin, what was that?” He asked. His tone was more playful and kind with her than it was with you. You tried not to let that bother you.

“Nothing! Let's go eat,” she said quickly before turning to you and miming zipping her lips.

Weird.

You were up early the next day. Partly because you didn’t know what time the guy was coming to look at your car, and partly because you had another nightmare about the person bleeding out from their wounds and not being able to help them. The icing on the cake was that you had woken up with a killer headache too, which you were currently trying to medicate with a big steaming cup of coffee.

Not even your trick of listening to music was helping the pounding in your temples today. You just hoped when the mechanic showed up that you would be able to form a coherent sentence.

It was around 11 when you heard the rumbling of an engine and loud rock music blasting through a shaky speaker in the distance. You thought nothing of it until you heard it right outside your front door.

You peeked through the blinds of your living room window to see a van parked in your driveway. This must be the mechanic.

The music shut off abruptly as you stepped out the front door and onto the wooden porch. Your house wasn’t too far off of the main road. You had neighbors on both sides of you, but you couldn’t see them through the thick trees that lined your property. You loved privacy and isolation, yet you couldn’t help but think that maybe you should have had your mom come over while the guy was here.

The door to the van squeaked open and the vehicle jostled side to side as the driver climbed out.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as Eddie Munson stepped into view, a small metal toolbox clutched tightly between both of his hands.

This is really who Robin had sent to your home to work on your car? A man that was accused of murder?

You didn’t personally know Eddie, nor did you know the whole story around the murders. He didn’t look like a vicious murderer that you had seen news clips of , and he was found not guilty on all charges.

You were being paranoid for no reason.

But you lived alone. And now he knew where you lived.

He must have seen the conflicted look on your face because he stood still by his van and made no move to approach you. “Hi, Robin said you needed help with your car.”

You cleared your throat and shot a polite smile. “Yes. Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you.” You immediately regretted the words as soon as they came out of your mouth. You didn’t mean to sound so rude. He probably had to deal with rude people everyday, especially with how judgemental this town could be.

He shot you a smile that showed he wasn’t offended by your statement. “Yeah, well. No one expects the metal head to be a mechanic. What’s going on with it?”

You finally moved off of your porch to approach him with your car key in your trembling hand. “It wont start. It just clicks when I try. I honestly don’t know anything about cars so who knows what’s wrong with it,” you said as you pressed the key into his hand, noticing the thick rings on his fingers.

He hummed a tune as he walked to your car and tried to start it himself. He then popped the hood and looked underneath.

“Oh, yeah this is bad,” he called from under the hood.

“How bad?” You asked as you walked up beside him to look for yourself, even though you had no clue what you were looking at.

“I mean you need a few new belts, a battery, an oil change, and who knows what else when I actually start digging around in there.”

“Oh my god. Really?” You pressed a hand to your forehead. You really didn’t need this right now.

“I can fix it but if we have to order parts and stuff it might take me a few weeks give or take,” he shrugged like it was no big deal.

“A few weeks?!” You practically yelled. “I have to be able to get back and forth from work. I can’t not have a car for a few weeks.”

“Sorry,” he winced. “But, uh, I actually work at the mechanic shop in town part time. I can probably swing by here and take you back and forth if you want. It’d be no problem.” There was a hopeful note in his voice that you didn’t dwell on. Maybe he was just a super helpful guy.

“No. I can’t ask you to do that. You’re already working on my car for me. I can just get my mom to drive me. Thank you though,” you replied. You didn’t miss the sour face he made at the mention of your mom. “How much do you think it’s going to be? For the parts and labor?”

Eddie shrugged for a moment. “Eh, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Okay,” you sighed. You wished he was able to tell you pricing up front. By the sounds of it, you were really going to have to dip into your savings and inheritance.

Eddie didn’t say anything else as he started pulling at parts under the hood. You took the sign to leave him alone and do his work as you stepped back inside the house.

You watched through the window as Eddie worked non stop on your car. He had pulled off his rings, his hands now covered with oil and dirt. His hair was pulled back into a messy bun low on the back of his head. His metal toolbox laid open beside him, various tools and parts spread around your driveway.

You realized then that you really liked watching Eddie work on a car.

He hadn’t taken a break since you left him outside alone. You felt bad but unsure if he would want company or if he just preferred to be by himself.

You went to the kitchen to quickly put together a sandwich and some chips for him since it didn’t look like he had packed any lunch or snacks. Plus, you really didn’t want him passing out in your driveway from dehydration or something. That would be awkward.

You stuck your head out the front door and yelled his name. He popped his head out from under the hood in surprise, reaching over to turn down his radio when he saw your face.

“I made you a sandwich if that’s okay? I noticed you hadn’t eaten or anything and I thought you might like a break,” you asked shyly, unsure if you were overstepping.

A wide grin spread across his face at your announcement. “You made me a sandwich? I can’t turn that down. Mind if I come inside to wash my hands real quick?”

You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. Your mothers warnings repeated through your head like a blaring alarm. He must have seen you hesitate because he said, “I mean if not that’s okay. I think I’ve got a rag in here or something that I can use to clean up with.” He sauntered towards his van and opened the door.

“No! It’s okay. Of course you can come in,” you called. You held the front door open wider and waved your hand to motion him inside.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or anything,” he said, apprehensive.

“I’m not uncomfortable. You can come in,” you confirmed with a shy smile, doing your best to keep your voice confident.

His returning grin made your knees weak. For now, you were going to blame that on the head injury. Or maybe you had too much caffeine that day. Those both seemed like reasonable explanations to you.

Eddie eyed the photos and decorations nosily in your living room the second he walked in. A sly smile spread across his face when he noticed your figurine of a duck sitting proudly on your wooden shelf. This wasn’t a normal duck figurine though, he happened to have two ridiculous googly eyes glued onto his face.

“Cute duck. Where’d you get it?” He asked with a low chuckle. He reached out and poked it, causing the eyes to shake back and forth.

“I don’t remember. Bathrooms that way,” you said immediately, pushing him in the right direction.

That stupid duck made you happy every time you looked at it. If he was going to make fun of it, you might just kick him out.

You and Eddie were currently sitting at your kitchen table both eating sandwiches in an awkward silence. You kept catching Eddie taking sneaking glances at you between bites.

The only sound came from the loud ticking of the rooster shaped clock that hung on the yellow painted walls of your kitchen. You loved that clock, it was one of the only things you were able to save from the estate sale your mother held after your grandmother died.

The thing was ridiculous looking, yet you still adored it.

“What made you want to be a mechanic?” You asked to get some relief from the silence.

He took a swig of his lemonade before replying. “Me and my Uncle Wayne used to work on cars together growing up so I picked up a few things. It definitely wasn’t my first choice in jobs but the owner of the garage is a family friend and he was the only one who would hire me after everything…” He trailed off as he looked at you warily like you might run away now that he’s mentioned the elephant in the room. He cleared his throat before he continued, “What made you want to work at Family Video?”

He didn’t seem like he was making fun of you, instead he seemed genuinely curious. “Oh, I worked at a daycare but it wasn’t working out. So I needed a change.”

“Why wasn’t it working out?” He asked before he took another bite.

You rubbed your hands against your pants in an attempt to wipe the clamminess away. This wasn’t something you normally talked about with strangers but if Eddie was going to be spending more time around here then he should know in case you start acting weird. Besides, the more you talked to Eddie the more at ease he made you feel.

“I got hurt in the earthquake. They think I hit my head or something I don’t know.” You purposely leave out the claims of the most recent doctor you had seen, the one that suggested seeing a psychiatrist. You cringed at the memory. “But since then I have had some issues with my memory and headaches. Being around a bunch of screaming kids all day definitely didn’t help,” you sighed.

Eddie looked at you without pity but understanding, it made you feel warm.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how bad is your memory loss?” He asked, his fingers tapped against the table top rhythmically.

“Pretty bad. I don’t remember the whole week leading up to the earthquake. I don’t remember parts of highschool or parts of big holidays or events in the past few years,” you shrugged.

“That must be hard,” Eddie commented.

“It is,” you nodded.

“What did you want to do with your life before that happened?” He asked. Eddie didn’t seem like he was prying for information to gossip about like the ladies your mom was friends with, instead he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say.

“I wanted to be a teacher. College doesn’t really work when your brain is broken though,” You said with a laugh as you tapped on your temple lightly. “You mentioned that being a mechanic wasn’t your first choice for a job. What was your first choice?”

Eddie let out a laugh as his cheeks turned pink, he seemed embarrassed by what he was getting ready to say. “Don’t laugh. It’s stupid but I wanted to be a rockstar,” he said with a groan as he covered his face with his hands.

Eddie spread his fingers apart so he could peer at you from behind his hands when you didn’t say anything. “Told you it was stupid,” he said, muffled by the placement of his hands.

You shook your head quickly. “No. It’s not stupid. I don’t see why you can’t do that.”

Eddie dropped his hands from his face. “It’s not realistic. Especially not after…everything,” he said with a hint of shame. He lowered his head.

You didn’t expect this conversation between the two of you to grow so deep so quickly.

“Why not at least give it a try? What’s keeping you in Hawkins anyways?” You asked seriously.

The expression on Eddie’s face broke for a brief moment as he stared at you. His eyes seemed to grow watery. You panicked internally. You really didn’t mean to make him cry.

He stood abruptly, making you jump. “Thank you for lunch but I gotta go. I’ll see what parts I can grab for your car. Can I stop back by on Sunday to work on it some more?”

You sat frozen in your seat as you nodded in agreement. He didn’t turn to look at you as he carried his empty plate to the sink and rinsed it off. You wanted to stop him and apologize, tell him that he didn’t need to worry about the plate, but you stopped yourself when you noticed him wipe underneath his eyes quickly with the back of his hand.

Eddie’s avoidance of you was clear, as he left your house without another word.

Taglist:

@sadbitchfangirl @gaysludge @daisydamed

@mandyjo8719 @josephquinncore @stevieharringtonswife @hazydespair @sheneedsrocknroll92 @mopeymopeymouse*

@portaltothevoid @sidthedollface2 @mjharrington @pbs-theundeadmaggot @luceneraium @aliceheart247 @kaitebugg03 @emxxblog @blue-eyed-lion @boo22sstuff @aysheashea @lfaewrites @madaboutjoe

@sweetmariihs2 @wendyfawcett @ohmeg

(Tag list is 18+ only)

#eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #mechanic!eddie #mechanic!eddie munson #mechanic eddie munson #mechanic!eddie munson x reader

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sunflowerskies00 · 6 days

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sun to me, part 4

so i stayed anyway

series masterlist

In a turn of events that everyone saw coming, Luke and I quickly became friends. Much to the dismay of Josie, who was hoping I would've 'jumped his bones' at this point (her words not mine). She was now on a fully blown friends-to-lovers conspiracy. Informing me that at some point I would realize I was in love with him and blah blah blah. Josie has a wild imagination and gets carried away often. But it's also what makes her one of my favorite people so I can't complain.

My newfound friendship with Luke is how I ended up at this place on a Tuesday after my team's practice, absolutely fuming. I was not having it tonight, it was a shit show practice, and if this was any indicator of how the season was going to go, we might as well give up now. Luke, bless his heart, looked terrified when he opened the door, not sure if I was through with my yelling he had heard on the phone or not.

Normally when there was a bad practice I ended up going to the gym, by myself, not wanting to have to let my roommates see me so upset. Not that they cared, they'd normally agree with my anger and egg it on, instead of trying to tell me I was being irrational, which I normally was. However, when I texted Luke, he said I could come over so I ditched my normal gym routine and headed to his house.

"Well, don't you look like a picture of happiness," He offers as I step inside. This was the first time I had been at his place, it was nice, very nice.

"Idiots. I play on a team with a bunch of idiots," I slide my shoes off, and he closes the door behind me before leading me through their home. "I mean is that hard to pass the damn puck. You obviously aren't going to fucking score so just pass the fucking puck. We aren't going to win when fucking Lauren thinks she needs to score every fucking goal. Another thing, she's not even that good, oh and she's a fucking rude bit-," I stop myself mid-rant, not just to take a breath but because I realized his brother was here, and me yelling about a bitch on my team isn't the best first impression. Luke is stifling a laugh.

"Jack, this is Edwards' sister, y/n. Y/n, this is Jack, my brother," He introduces us.

"Nice to meet you," I offer him a slightly awkward smile.

"You too," he says, having more of a smile than I do. "Now please continue about this puck-hogging bitch?" My cheeks turn pink at that.

"I was just going to say she's a rude fucking bitch who flirts with other girls on the team's boyfriends and has no remorse," I cross my arms over my chest. "That's it," I finish.

"She sounds awful, but I'm sure your coach will take care of it. Well, at least the puck-hogging thing, I don't think there's much to be done with the boyfriend stealing, that's just a character flaw," Luke offers. Which honestly, is probably what I needed to hear. If I had been with the girls, it would have been full-fledged agreeing with all of it, and agreeing that I should just plow her into the boards at practice and just accept getting reamed out for it.

"She does sound like a rude bitch," Jack nods in agreement. "But Luke's right, your coach should deal with the on-ice issues, not much you can do about the other things, but try not to do anything that makes you seem like the ass." I nod, accepting what they're saying, and knowing that their advice is the most rational, and anything I had been concocting in my mind on the way over here, was irrational and should probably never see the light of day. "We were just going to have dinner, want anything?" Jack offers.

"Sure," I nod. Luke sits on the couch and pats the spot next to him. I flop down and slump. Freaking Lauren had drained all the positivity and energy from my body.

"So, is you ranting about teammates after practice a common occurrence?" Luke asks me. I shake my head.

"No, I mean don't get me wrong, I practice more often than not pissed off about something, but it's normally related to me and how I performed, very rarely is it because of one of my teammates. Lauren is a transfer, and she's made approximately zero friends on the team," I offer as an explanation.

"So, if you hadn't come here were you just going to stew in your anger?"

"No, well sorta, I go the gym, well if it's something that I think has to do with me, I go to the gym. Otherwise, I rant to my roommates but they normally encourage the anger and irrational ideas to deal with it," I lift a shoulder, not really knowing what else to say.

"You go to the gym? After multiple hours at practice?"

"I know, it's not good, but it's habit," I mumble, my cheeks turning pink, for no reason. He's being genuinely curious, it's not like he's scolding me. Luke doesn't say anything else because Jack yells something about food.

After dinner, I get ready to leave, not wanting to overstay my welcome, when Luke tells me we're going somewhere. Once I'm in the car, he informs me we're going to get ice cream. I protest, trying to tell him I don't do sugar during my season, but he tells me to loosen up and to treat myself, especially after my shitty day. I don't protest anymore, giving into his reasoning. We get to a little ice cream place not far from his place and against my wishes he buys me ice cream, not letting me pay for myself, and we sit outside at a little table. Luke has a triumph smirk on his face as I narrow my eyes at him.

"Stop being so grumpy, you have ice cream, and you're hanging out with me, what could you be mad about?" I roll my eyes at that, a small smile slipping through at his playful arrogance.

"Some dumb man wouldn't let me pay for my own ice cream."

"Yeah, well it was his idea, and he wanted to see his friend less grumpy, so stop frowning and enjoy the mint chip," He points his spoon at me. I roll my eyes but smile, taking a bit of the ice cream.

By the time I get my car from Luke's and get back home, it's late. Really late. I'm expecting everyone to be in bed, not asleep, but in their rooms. I'm wrong, they're all sitting on the couch, waiting for me.

"Hey," I offer them a smile.

"Hey yourself, where were you missy?" Josie is the first to speak. "You left after practice which was approximately, 6 hours ago, and we haven't heard from you since, just tracked your location to see you ended up at a random house, and then some ice cream place, back to the house, and then here," she recalls my locations. I'm going to delete Life360 so these weirdos can't stalk me anymore.

"Nice stalking skills," I tease her.

"This is serious, where you were you?"

"I went to Luke's, I told him I was in a shit mood and he told me to come over, so I hung out there for a while, and then he insisted on ice cream, and then we hung out at his house for a while before I came back here," I give the brief rundown of my actions for the evening.

"You sure spend a lot of time with him for claiming he's just a friend," Ava's voice isn't accusing, just observing.

"He's a good friend," I shrug my shoulders, that really was all the explanation I had. Luke is an amazing friend, and that's something I didn't say about many of Ethan's former or current teammates. I also had a tendency to not get along with them, big egos on those hockey players (of the male variety).

"And will he remain just a friend?" Lindsey asks. I just shrug, I wasn't sure. Luke was good-looking, anyone with eyes could see that, and I loved spending time with him. But in the weeks that I had known him, he had become such a good friend, and that wasn't something I was willing to give up.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. They must sense my discomfort because they change the subject, dropping Luke from the conversation.

#umich hockey #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #jack hughes #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #ethan edwards

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magicbystarlight · 2 months

Text

Venomous - Part Eleven

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: A wife. A mother. A witch with someone else's name. That’s the life you didn’t want. So Tom offered you more.

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: 18+, a bit of an angsty one, arranged marriage, age gap relationship, ptsd, war. Minors DNI.

A/N: Our poor reader can't catch a break.

The last days at the Manor passed mechanically. Wedding appointments set for Easter Break—dress, cake, invitations, dinner. A book left unread despite the pages turned. Smiles that didn’t reach your eyes. Laughs that were hollow. Unanswered letters. No word from your brother. Nothing in the papers about the Muggle war.

Abraxas was at your side, arm slung too casually around your shoulder as you walked through Platform 9 ¾. Your trunk somewhere behind being dragged along by the Malfoys’ oldest house-elf Honey. Or was it Bunny? An unsubtle reminder to the growing crowd that you were a Malfoy, even if not in name yet.

At least your mother hadn’t come.

His goodbye was drawn out. You smiled and dutifully let him kiss you again and again until he couldn't keep you any longer. You hoped your own face didn't betray your joy as you stepped onto the train. The compartments were full as you dragged your trunk. It took longer to find Larissa and Abigail than usual thanks to the added weight.

Their concern felt wasted on you when you stepped into the compartment. Too much of your friendship had been spent on your petty problems when their families lived in constant danger that you knew nothing about.

You insisted you were fine, that it had only been a bit of stress, and everything was okay now. You brushed off concerns about Abraxas’ behavior, rewriting his jealousy as protection. You were fine, everything was fine.

The conversation veered to them and you listened intently. A funny story about Larissa’s mother getting on the wrong train in the underground. Talk of Abigail’s father’s wonderful cooking. Love letters they found under her little sister’s pillow. It made your heart ache.

“We should set up a dinner or something for the Easter holiday,” you said as the laughter was starting to subside. “So I can meet your families.”

Your friends shared a look that didn’t look pleased with the idea. “Won’t you be too busy? With all the planning? We don’t want to add to your stress.”

“Too busy for you? Never.”

“It’s just,” Larissa said slowly, trying to find the words to say, “well, we know how your family feels about half-bloods. You might not mind, but they’re not gonna be happy with it.”

“They know we’re friends, it’s not that big of a deal anymore. Maybe they’ll be upset if they find out one of Abby’s parents is Muggle, but we can go somewhere Muggle and they’ll never even know. Make a day of it, a real day, show me more of the Muggle world. I’ve never even seen London past the windows in the Leaky Cauldron.”

Larissa went to say something else, another argument against it from the frown in her face, but Abigail cut her off, face lacking its normal color. “We’ll see. I’ll need to owl my parents and ask if they can make the time for it. Easter’s pretty busy for them.”

Your face fell before you could catch it and school it into something false.

“We can do Cambridge instead!” Larissa offered quickly, too eager compared to her hesitation a moment before. “I’m sure Mum would love to have you both over. And it gets so pretty in the spring there—”

She continued, naming reason after reason Cambridge was the place to be for Easter. You worked your smile back, though it was as hollow as it’d had been at the Manor. A tentative date set for the Tuesday after the holiday—you had no appointments set and Abigail would be too busy helping out around home before then. Color still hadn’t returned to her face.

When enough time had passed, you excused yourself to use the restroom. They didn’t offer to join you.

Scalding water splashed from the tap, causing your hands to retract with a hiss. You waited for the temperature to correct itself and tried not to scratch at the pain.

Abigail didn’t want you meeting her family. Larissa could spend a week with them and you couldn’t even have dinner. You always knew they were a little closer. How could they not be when you barely put any effort into the friendship? They may have been your best friends, but today you realized you weren’t theirs.

That was okay, you told yourself. You would do better.

You looked up into the mirror as you scrubbed your hands. A crack cutting diagonally down it you hadn’t noticed before. How poorly were these restrooms maintained?

The door swung open.

“—almost punched Ralph McLaggen in the middle of Diagon Alley! Over her? Can you—“

The Slytherin girl from Potions cut off abruptly as her gaze met yours in the mirror. The one who loved to tell people about your torrid affair with Slughorn. You’d have to remember her name eventually.

Her grin was sickly sweet. “You looked great at the Minister’s ball.”

“Thanks, but,” you said, matching the acidic tone. “I don’t remember seeing you there?” Then you laughed, shaking your hands dry and turning to see her now scowling face. “Oh right, you must have seen me in the paper! I’d almost forgotten.”

You walked to the door, eyebrow raised expanctly at her friend who still stood in its way. She squeaked out an apology before moving aside. “Well lovely to see you, Judith. Hope your holiday went well.” Maybe you didn’t have to learn her name.

—

Dumbledore wasn’t at the welcoming feast. It wasn’t unusual. Since First Year he’d been in and out of class aiding in the fight against Grindelwald. But you felt the absence more now. You’d wanted to talk to him about Warrick.

There were eyes on you. More than usual it seemed. You kept your back to the Slytherin’s table.

Abigail had recovered, at least.

Her smiles were warm again as conversation swirled at the table around the next Quidditch match. Ravenclaw had only had one match the previous semester and it left them at an advantage, same as Slytherin and it was expected the match would be tense. You listened attentively as some of the team’s players explained how many points they’d need to rack up to gain the lead. It surprised you how attentively they listened when Larissa started dissecting Slyhterin’s weaknesses and strengths. Her insight was, well, insightful.

“We’ve got the pitch on Thursday, you’ll be there?” Erin Lockhart, this year’s captain, asked her as you all made your way back to the tower.

Larissa’s face was bright. “Haven’t missed one yet, have I?”

It was past midnight when the three of you finally clambered up the stairs to your dormitory. Normal. A truly normal night. Not a mention of engagements or wars or stalkers. Filled instead with Quidditch and school worries and silly little jokes. So many new things noticed about people you’d known for years. Funny how that can happen when you’re not existing solely in your own head.

Larissa was giggling about how good Henry Higginbottom’s hair looked when she stopped abruptly after opening the door. You thought maybe the ladies at Twilfitt and Tattings had outdone themselves and delivered early, but a melodic chirping drowned it out.

On your bed, in a rather large and intricate gilded cage, was Ravenclaw’s emblem. A Golden Eagle.

Their eyes were such a familiar shade of brown.

“When did you get an eagle?”

“I didn’t.” You felt cold. “I’ll take my chances with whatever gilded cage awaits me rather than whatever crate you’re offering.” Could Tom never stop with his fucking metaphors?

Abigail was the one to investigate. She plucked an envelope from the bed, turning it over. Your name was on the front in familiar handwriting and an even more familiar teal seal.

Of course Azar was still doing Tom’s bidding.

Anger seized as you took the letter she handed over. Blood splatters marred the parchment.

Found her in Astrid’s owlery.

A likely story.

Apparently she’d been there a while and now she seems a bit confused about what she is. Thought getting her out of there was for the best,

You scoffed. Of course he would decide what he thinks best.

but the dungeons aren’t a good place for her. She needs to spread her wings.

One thing he wasn’t wrong about.

I know Selene said no to getting you an owl, but she never said no to an eagle.

He remembered that? It’d been years since you’d asked.

Dippet was happy enough to approve her as a pet for you. Unsurprisingly, you’re one of his favorites.

It was a surprise to you.

She prefers hunting for herself, so she won’t be a bother. She’ll even take the post for you. You’ll have to give her a name though. Our aunt only ever called her örnen.

That sounded like Aunt Astrid.

Sinc Love,

Uggy Az

P.S. There’s no excuse. I’m sorry.

P.P.S. She was perfectly tame until I put her in the cage. You’ll get along well, I think.

The anger had dissipated by the end. Not gone entirely, but less. You still weren’t convinced it wasn’t some new trap laid, but for now you’d let it be what it seemed. A sincere apology. Those were so rare.

“Uggy Az?” Larissa questioned, reading the letter over your shoulder.

“It’s what I called Azar when I was really little. It was supposed to be Uncle Az.” You reached for the latch, pulling the door open. “Mum hated it cause it sounded like I was calling him an ugly ass.” Cautiously the bird stepped out, stretching her wings and legs. She was beautiful.

You knelt at the end of the bed and she met you there. This close you could see the gold speckled throughout her eyes. When you reached your hand forward, she bent her head and let out a chirp at the contact.

“What should we name her?” you asked, stroking her.

“Princess?” Larissa offered before her face immediately went sour and shook her head. “She needs something more classical. Aethon?”

That made you shudder. Would that make you Prometheus?

Abigail’s fingers joined yours to stroke the brown feathers. “How about Drein?”

The eagle let out another chirp.

“You like that?” you asked. “Drein?”

She chirped again and seemed to nuzzle against your hand.

“Well,” Larissa laughed, joining you and Abigail in your affections to the bird, “Drein it is.”

—

Sweat covered you as you shot up from bed. A nightmare. You couldn’t remember much beyond explosions, screams, and a hand around your throat.

The hands of the clock pointed to a quarter past five. Too early to start the day and too late to try to sleep. Not that you’d be able to sleep anyways.

Drein stirred from her perch atop your wardrobe when you moved. It was odd how comforting it was when her eyes followed you to your desk. Being watched by a predator was normally so unsettling, but for once you didn’t feel like prey.

You took a piece of parchment and your quill and began to write. It wasn’t right. You scratched it out and started again. Still wrong. Dashed through the new sentences and tried again. No.

Curiosity got the best of Drein, her wings fluttering softly as she landed on the edge of the desk. Her head cocked as you ripped off the bottom, bare part of the parchment.

Why? You wrote. Your quill hovered for a moment more. I miss you. A few tears landed on the parchment before you wiped away the rest. Drein crept forward, pushing her head against your hand.

“Can you do me a favor?” you ask her. She blinks. “Take this to my brother.”

—

Drein had returned by that night. There was no reply. A week passed. Days that weren’t quite bad, but exhausting.

Transfiguration was the easiest. An essay to write from the substitute instead of hands-on practice. Astronomy. History of Magic. Ancient Ruins. Herbology. Ancient Studies. Arithmancy. Potions. Care of Magical Creatures. None of them required a wand often.

But Charms and DADA?

Horrible.

Abigail thought you were sick. First you fainted and now you were struggling in class? You’d gone and gotten checked just to ease her concern. You weren’t sure how no one noticed the crack in your wand, but you powered through. It did seem to work a little better as the days passed. Less resistant. A few more days, maybe a week or two, and it would be fine. Like nothing happened.

Whispers followed as they always did. Some with pity, but more with glee. You’d walked into a room more than once to be greeted with hurriedly hushed voices. Thankfully your housemates were more akin to pity.

Saturday afternoon you sat alone in the common room, where you’d been since after breakfast. It was a dreary day outside, but you couldn’t pull your attention away from the window. There wasn’t anything else to do. Abigail had left for some Divination project she had to work on with a Gryffindor and Larissa was serving a detention she’d gotten the last day of last semester. Abraxas had planned to visit, but something had come up and he postponed for Sunday. Homework was done and you didn’t feel like tracking anyone down to occupy time.

Why hadn’t Warrick written you back?

A very nasally, high pitched noise came from beside you, breaking your concentration. Myrtle Warren stood there, nose high in the air. She held out a folded piece of parchment. “Avery asked me to give this to you?”

Your eyebrow shot up. Myrtle was muggleborn. Azar didn’t like interacting with that sort, let alone entrusting them with anything.

She cleared her throat again impatiently and wriggled the note.

With a muttered thanks, you took it. She still stood there. It simply read: Library?

“He told me to wait for a yes or no. Wants me to walk with you there for some reason if you say yes. Very odd, I think, but he’s paid me ten galleons just to bring this, and it’ll be another twenty once I get back to him with an answer.”

Ten galleons just to get you a note. Thirty in all to get an answer. And an escort.

“Was there anyone with him?”

She shook her head. “No, he was all alone. Just like you. And me.” She shrugged. “Probably why he asked me.”

Azar must be hoping to apologize in person. There hadn’t been any chance to catch you alone throughout the week. You’d ensured that. While Myrtle wasn’t your first option of a companion, she was better than nothing. And talking it out with Azar was better than staring out a window. You needed to thank him for Drein, too.

Myrtle was surprisingly patient. You’d had to put your things away up in your dorm and she waited without a single complaint. It was unlike her. She hadn’t gained the nickname Moaning Myrtle for nothing.

It was probably the promise of galleons that kept her so quiet as you walked down the staircases.

“Do you mind if we stop by the restroom?” she asked as you landed on the second floor.

Had she not been so patient before, you’d have said no. But she had been. So you relented, eyeing the staircase wistfully and hoping she’d be quick. You wanted to see Azar. Know if it had been real.

Her favors weren’t over. “Could you check if there’s anyone in here? I don’t like an audience.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes and did as requested. It was empty, thankfully. “All clear,” you called from the end of the stalls.

“Well that is very,” Myrtle’s voice changed, the nasally high whine turning deep, honeyed, and unmistakable, “convenient.”

You twisted, wand in hand, to witness as Myrtle’s face bubbled. Her robes stretched to accommodate the added height and width, its blue yellowing to green, Ravenclaw’s emblem contorted into Slytherin’s. You’d meant to Stupify him, but nothing came. A red jet of light shot from his. With horror, your grasp on your wand loosened involuntarily and it shot from your hand. He caught it effortlessly.

“I’m not here to fight,” Tom said evenly. He eyed your wand, surveying the damage. “Not that it seems you’d be able to put up much of one.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed, despite the pounding in your ears.

He smiled. “I have missed your quick wit.” When you said nothing, he sighed. “I wanted to apologize.”

You repeated, “Fuck you.”

“That’s fair.” Your wand clattered on the floor as he threw it back. “I deserve worse.”

You don’t move. You consider it for half a second, hand tensing to reach for your wand, but you don’t. It’s useless.

“I didn’t understand how horrific what I did was. But I do now. And I’m sorry.”

Lies. Lies lies lies lies lies.

“I don’t want your apologies. They don’t mean anything. You regret nothing. You understand nothing!” Your voice rose, angry panic outpacing your ability to quell it.

“Forgiveness will take time, I know. I’ll be patient.”

Tears seared your cheeks. “Forgiveness?” you questioned. “Forgiveness for what, Tom? For—for trying to kill me? For stalking me? For ruining my life?” Yanking the Malfoy heirloom from your finger, you held it up. “I only have this,” you threw it, aiming for his frozen face that didn’t even flinch and missing by a yard, “because of you. If you’d have left me alone, none of it would have happened. You took everything. And for what? What has it gotten you in the end?” Your arms were shaking as you gestured to the lavatory he’d trapped you in. “Downing polyjuice to corner me here and listen to me tell you that I hate you.”

Quaking shoulders. Terrified and angry and devastated. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I don’t know.”

It came out so soft, yet the words thundered in your head. He’d been so confident months ago. Spewing nonsense about power and freedom and breaking traditions. Now he stood there and said he doesn’t know why he continues to torment you?

“You don’t know?”

Cracking sounds reverberated against the walls.

“You don’t fucking know?”

Glass shards fell to the floor as the mirrors over the sinks shattered.

You crumbled.

Next Part

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#tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x reader #abaraxas malfoy x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x fem!reader #tom riddle x ravenclaw!reader #ravenclaw reader #venomous

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