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luvvixu · 3 months

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mind over matter pt. 4

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: ok, im such a bad author now huhu, i always broke my promises about updating the new chapter :((( should've just wrote in advance but i'm afraid i don't have that enough free time oqsjjanswjaj anyways, here's the anticipated chapter!! THANK YOU FOR Y'ALL PATIENCE <3 MWUHEHEHHEEHHE

previous / masterlist / next

the next day comes and you've got yourself some visitors. megumi, yuuji, nobara, maki, and inumaki was in your room and they were all seated around you as you talk.

panda and your two third years were not around at the moment because this is a non-sorcerer hospital and people would freak out to see a big ‘talking’ panda. during your two third years, they were out of town and were on a mission but they still text you to get well and even send you some fresh flowers.

“wait, i still can't believe that he's your husband.” nobara couldn't explain his shock at the revelation. out of all, she didn't think that her goofy teacher was someone's husband.

you chuckled at her reactions as you turned your gaze on megumi, who's still his mouth hanging. “megumi, i thought you're getting a hint?” you tease the boy. although it was true, you actually thought he already had an idea because you've known him for almost his entire life and even once lived with you as a kid.

“no…” was only his answer.

“so, gojo-sensei was the one you're talking about when you said that he was a busy man. most of his job requires being out of town. but he never fails to shower you with love and he is making sure that you two would still communicate despite his busy schedule?” your eyes widened when yuuji literally just said what you had said from before, word-by-word!

“i—i supposed he is.” everyone in the room sweat dropped at your answer.

what do you mean you supposed?!

“y/n-sensei, is it okay if we ask your baby?” maki chooses the gentlest approach because she heard that post-pregnancy can make the mother quite crikey, sensitive, and is prone to depression. but to her relief, you respond to her warmly.

“oh, the baby is being treated since they're premature. i really can't wait to meet them once i get better. but right now, shoko was the only one who had seen my baby.” you smiled softly at the thought of your baby.

“gojo-sensei still hadn't seen the baby?” maki’s eyes went wide.

you nodded. “yeah, he said we should go together so i must heal quickly for that to happen.”

the door suddenly opened and it revealed your husband with food in his hand. you smiled at the packages not because you're hungry, but because you had finally persuaded satoru to go out and leave you even for just a few minutes.

how did you do it? well, you just give him an earful after what he did yesterday night and he's like;

“i don't know how you did it but you should've just gone to the convenience store or the hospital canteen just for an oatmeal and eggs. and look, i'm not upset over the fact that you just had the ‘very easy to get’ food delivered on this doorstep. what concerns me is you seem not to trust me very well to handle myself— well in fact i've been doing it since i was a kid and blah, blah, blah, blah…” it was your turn to yap but a little longer than he did. you even probably bought up some of his minor mistakes like not taking out the trash on random sunday night.

and he was like, “i'm sorry. i won’t do it again ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)”

“y'all done backstabbing me?” satoru teasingly smiled at you all.

“oh, we're just getting started. so why don't you take a seat and hear us out?” you patted the empty space of your bed beside you.

satoru playfully huffed and gave the foods to his students and let them distribute it themselves. sitting beside you, he gave you the separate plastic with food and helped you feed yourself. the two of you had your moment with you telling satoru to just let you be and stop feeding you like a kid, but satoru was like nuh uh—and it goes on and on.

meanwhile, the students watch you two with surprise in their eyes. they still couldn't digest the fact that you two had managed to hide your marriage for like five years or so. and out of all spouses out there, they couldn't believe their eyes that you married a guy that is a total opposite of you.

“i still cannot really believe that you're married and have a baddie wife.” nobara almost never tears her gaze towards you two.

“yeah, much more is that they look so in love!” yuuji agrees to what nobara said as his words made you two stop bickering instantly.

like a cold water being poured, you two were suddenly experiencing a reality check that this so-called in love was very far from the two of you actually is. coughing slightly to hide his awkwardness and nervousness, he just let himself chuckle. while you? you're an expert at this, you maintain a smiley expression and wordlessly (and also forcefully) agrees to what the boy said.

“oh my, do we?” putting a hand on your cheek, you smiled with your eyes closed. your act looks so legit but satoru has seen this multiple side—he knew this facade was all fake.

maki suddenly puts herself into attention by calling your name. “anyway y/n-sensei, i've noticed you two don't have a ring—” before she could even finish her sentence, you already beat her to it.

“that's because the two of us, mostly him, are constantly fighting curses and both involve using our hands when we use our techniques. it would be risky to wear it and we're scared that we might get it lost or damaged.” you explain meticulously.

you watch the students agree to your explanation, while satoru is looking at you with meaning. you stared back at him too, hoping that he would get your telepathic message.

“alright guys, your y/n-sensei needs to rest now. we'll just see you guys soon or you can all just drop by tomorrow after your training.” satoru called everyone's attention by clapping his hands then started to playfully shoo the students.

you watch them pack their things and wave you a happy goodbye, in which you return their enthusiasm as well. when they all left, you let out a sigh and started to gently lie your body on the bed. satoru, who was done cleaning just now, sit at the end of your bed and carefully massage your legs.

“did you have fun with them?” you just lazily hum at his question and proceed to rest your eyes.

“i…i'm surprised you managed to convince them about our marriage.” satoru continued quietly.

opening one of your eyes and looking at him, you said, “of course, i've been doing it to a lot of people for the past five years.”

that alone made him shut up.

satoru looked down to his hands, which were still busy massaging your legs. you've noticed that his eyes were casted down and his behavior was somewhat familiar to you, he's feeling something that is related to guilt and regret.

clicking your tongue, you're in no mood to deal with his behavior today. so to find a solution to this problem, you just put yourself to sleep and let all of this just go on without a single care.

it has been two days and you're getting better day by day. today was probably the bestest day so far because you're about to finally see your own baby!

“calm down, mama. do you want your stitches to open again?” shoko holds your knees to stop it from shaking anxiously as you were currently sitting just right outside the neonatal intensive care unit (nicu) where your baby was.

you understand that the doctors need to prepare the room first before you all come in, but you wished that they speed it up.

“but sho, i'm finally seeing my baby!” you squeal at your friend who just ruffles your hair and tells you to be patient—in which you definitely can't.

meanwhile, satoru, who was standing beside you while you and shoko were sitting together, has been eyeing you since this whole waiting. he understands that you're excited about seeing the baby because he is too, he is excited. but he couldn't help but to feel a sensation that you would rather share your excitement with others than him.

he knows that he sounds ridiculous and undeserving to say that in the first place after what he did to put you through, but he still couldn't help it and he wouldn't even dare to say it to you.

the door of the nicu just opened and it revealed the doctor who was wearing protective gear to keep bacterias and viruses from entering the room and harm the baby. before he lets you all in, he first instructs you all to change the same gear as him and then proceeds to give you all some explanation in which you actively listen and take notes.

and after that, he finally lets you go inside.

the moment your eyes traveled on a crib, you saw your child laying down there with some breathing apparatus that is connected to their little body. you could feel your eyes swell with hot tears as you inch yourself towards the bundle of joy who's their crib was also protected with glass and only small holes on both sides were there.

satoru and shoko watched you with pure warmth at your sight—it was a nice scene of mother's love. finally, a tear escapes your eyes the moment you get a whole view of your child.

“isn't he pretty?” shoko said beside you, someone who you didn't notice had come near you.

you gasp, “he? m-my baby is a boy?” your cries go even harder, but it was just pure happiness. you couldn't bring yourself to tear your gaze away from your child even though he looks fragile for being premature but you love him dearly.

“can i touch him?” you look at the doctor who assisted you earlier without caring that you might look like a crying mess. you're far more thrilled to be with your child than to be pretty at this moment.

the doctor smiled at you and he agreed. he pointed out the small hole on the side, telling you to stick your hands out to feel your baby. you do what he said with your shaky hands, and when your fingertips touch his warm skin—you feel like you could die from the burst of euphoria.

“my b-baby, my baby is n-now here!” you really can't hold your emotions back as you keep on passing your fingers through your baby's arm until it reaches his closed hands where you slightly and gently open it for him to grab index finger. and when he does, your smile becomes even wider.

“hi baby~ this is me, your mommy. it's so nice to finally see you.” you whispered softly, hoping that despite the glass, he could hear your words.

this is the bestest day of your life. your baby was here and that's all you need.

the scene continues to unfold with you still getting emotional and shoko was just watching you with a smile on her face. while satoru, the father of the child, the husband of the mother, was a little distant but he could still see the baby. he was all quiet and couldn't bring himself to utter a word but he's not speechless.

his eyes behind those glasses were trailed on the child, but most of his gazes were on you. satoru watches you become all smiley—this is probably the happiest smile he had seen on your lips for the past years of your marriage.

and he would absolutely never forgive himself if he breaks it—but he already did.

shoko notices his odd behavior and promptly leaves your side for a while (but you're busy having a baby talk with your baby to notice her leaving) to go talk to him.

“what? you're just gonna stand there and watch y/n?” yup. still the same as before, hostile towards the man. satoru let out a sigh and didn't give her attention. instead, he walked towards y/n and just focused on his family.

“you’re so tiny!” you continue to cooed at your son who keeps on moving slightly which is a good sign that your son is responsive and fighting. you also noticed that satoru was now right beside you and is looking at your son too with adoration tinted in his eyes.

“i don't think i could let myself be away from him anymore.” you said. your cheeks were now hurting from constant smiling but you don't mind.

satoru only looks at you briefly because his attention was now on his son, fully. “hello, it was nice finally meeting you.” his eyes trailed on his own flesh and blood with the most care of all.

on the other hand, you're not dumb to not notice that satoru was acting hesitant towards this scene and you knew what his reason was. you think that satoru thinks that he was undeserving to be here, and you're correct about his assumption.

but as a woman who grew up with an experience of being inside a shattered family, you absolutely would not want that to happen to your own child. and as much as you would also like to satoru be away at least for now because you're still that sensitive about what he had said during those conversations in the clinic and hallway, you respect his role as a father.

you'd give him a chance to prove his worth as a father to your child, but he's far worse to have a chance to prove his worth as a husband to you. if he messes this up real bad and without any proper explanation, this will be all over—satoru would no longer have you and your child as his own family.

“stick your hand on his hole, that way you could feel him.” you guided his hand towards the hole that you had said before and watched his hands turn shakey as he reached for the baby.

once satoru had finally experienced a skin-to-skin touch with his baby, he wanted to cry so badly but he didn't allow himself to, at least not yet. he felt like this was one of the best moments in his existence.

satoru would like to punch himself for questioning the baby for his plans as he seemingly thinks it would affect him. but just when he look and touch his baby, all of his recollection about the mixed emotions he felt when the baby is on the board has suddenly vanished and it was replaced with gratefulness and adoration for both of you.

it was like a full 360 degrees turn was done after the early birth of his first born. plus, he had seen you be ever so happy that you are with him. and deep inside him, satoru deniably hopes that this kid, this child, can at least help him save this marriage that was destined to fail and doomed.

because he now finally realizes that you're slowly wrapping him around your tiny fingers.

your tears had made him be a better person, your recent experience had made him behave. it almost cost you and your baby's wife just for him to realize the importance of your five years of marriage, and he's planning to tell you that soon.

“have you finally decided what name we should give him?” shoko asked you and she didn't fail to see your eyes sparkle at the mention of name.

ah yes, baby names.

that was something that a mother and father should decide together because it comes very crucial because the name that your baby will get is a symbol of you two's relationship. but the thing is, you and your husband hadn't talked about a single thing or just anything related to this matter.

that's probably why you're still embarrassed whenever you think about nanami accidentally seeing you open a website into one of the school's computers about unique baby names with its meaning.

you're four months pregnant at that time and you're spending your free time in a teacher's lounge. you're very invested in your mini research to the point that you didn't notice an old friend peeking at your screen. you actually only notice his presence when you're about to stretch but accidentally bump his torso, and to your surprise, he was there.

and then the rest becomes a story and history. nanami helped you pick baby names for both genders or even unisex until you came out with…

“kazuki. let's name him that.” a soft smile was decorated on your lips as you watched satoru, who's looking at you, plays with the hands of your son.

“kazuki…that's a nice name, y/n.” satoru said happily. however, you can see his disappointment behind those words and you know why. you didn't even invite him to search for your baby's name because why would you?

“does it have any special meaning?” shoko asked you.

you nodded and said, “of course, kazuki means hope of peace—and i really need that.”

taglists: @mistymuii @kalopsia-flaneur @sherryuki-callmeyuki @aish777 @tttttttf @slyhersophia @rirk-ke @labelt-san @shinruo @testrella @sad-darksoul @kurookinnie @mountvesuvu @chwesuh-imnida @cole-silas @elernity @maddie-jayne @yozora7154 @kawaiivillainess98 @forourpoets @aishies-stuff @numblytemporary @souyasplushie @catarinemirandax @aerithsthingss @h1gh4ru @ssetsuka @jskodn @khoiyyu @the2ndl @vebbiewuzhere @kouyoumarryme @dreamyescapesfromreality @local-mr-frog @haesify @blkmystery @bleppt @leavem3al0n3 @arminloverlol @megumisthirdog @shirabane @sheismaryy @tragicgirl444 @vampsins @miizuzu @kurobo @anxious-chick @p1nkliquor @mshitachin @chxrv @lolsasuke @username23345 @netyxms @lvstru @roscpctals99 @buttermilktea11 @berenevenstarzetaestelar @jiupark @hotsauce247 @veryverysadauthor @skepticalleo @opentheyoor01 @slowlyshycomputer @babybarbs12 @thickemadame @yaninnaacu @foggypostshark

[part 5 will be just there right around the corner — ©luvvixu2024]

#gojo satoru #anime #gojo satoru x reader #fanfic #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #luvvixu #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru angst #satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk angst #angst #arrange marriage

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randomlonelymusician · 5 months

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Lacey Games New Transcriptions!

Emails

Email 1 by line:

Concern over Lacey's games character

Hello parents! Today I want to bring attention to this website I found my girl watching: Lacey's girl games.

I thought it was innocent until I saw the mascots. There is

one, Jay, who acts and dresses like a boy. She also throws the

devil's sign constantly [...] which is totally inappropriate

for girls. I can't believe

they'd put a queer in child's website. I am a very concerned

mom because of that. My little Amber started telling me she wanted a skateboard. What's next, wearing those hideous boy caps? Hanging

around boys who will hurt her? Wanting to become a boy? Be careful.

Email 2 by line:

I just saw it. That is not a girl, that is a dʏke. You

character. I posted about it on Facebook.

Everyone agrees its an inappropriate character for kids. by now. It's a dʏke in a

"girls" website. We are getting all the parents to email around, hopefully

knock some sense into the developers…my girl loves this website. I hope they fix it so I can allow her to visit again.

Email 3:

I can definitely agree that a character that says "I'd only be caught dead wearing makeup" in one of her games is not a role model little girls should he having. I don't know why they couldn't just keep Lacey and the other one and get rid of the boygirl thing.. Let us know about updates on sending emails. Maybe also block it in schools until then.

Jay End Screen

Text by line:

She stepped into the empty room at the edge of the universe and

calmly walked toward the single button on the wall as she

had been told by the gods above could delete the existence of anyone

she disliked she thought long and hard of all the ugliest souls she had

ever known she made her decision and her finger met the button without any ceremony

but looking down at her feet it was all red with blood she stood in shock the blood tainted her very being she had thought deletion

to be clean and to start without realizing that death is the only deletion

that exists and there is no death without painful unrelenting grief

and grief stared at her through mirrors forever, from the eyes of

all she has ever thought to delete it was a world catastrophe

___________________________________________________________

Please add to these! This is just a start based on what I can make out!

#lacey's flash games #lacey games #the disturbing rabbit hole of laceygames.com #lacey's makeup parlour #jay's skating game #lacey's wardrobe #lacey's diner #lacey's petshop #lacey and the jammers #yaniaso games #ghosttundra

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dragonbarbie · 15 days

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𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Part 3

aegon x best friend!reader ; modern!au

summary: this fic is snippets of aegon and reader's relationship as they grow up and discover new feelings. but to let himself be loved, aegon has to first do some growing up.

rating: 18+, minors dni.

tags: alcohol, substance abuse, making out, finger fucking, handjob, praise kink, oh and soul-crushing angst :)

word count: 8.2k (i... dont even know what to say aegon makes me distracted)

previous part

series masterlist

A/N: things are finally getting spicey

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

divider credit @ cafekitsune! title of fic is from 'peter' by taylor swift.

Age 19

Sunspear wasn’t bad. In fact, Y/N loved it most days. The warm Dornish sun that kissed her skin every morning, the sea breeze that swept through the streets, and the vibrancy of the people made her feel alive. She’d made friends—good ones—and liked most of her classes. The city had charm, a warmth she didn’t expect, and a pace she could keep up with.

But somehow, since she’d moved here for college, everything felt a little hollow without Aegon. No matter how beautiful the sunsets were, how lively the city, or how many people surrounded her, there was a part of her that felt incomplete. Every holiday weekend, she looked forward to going back to King’s Landing just to hang out with him, only to be disappointed when he was off on some trip with his new friends, always busy with something or someone else.

Lately, though she’d found one distraction of her own: Qoren Martell. The kind, funny, downright hot boy she had been talking to for a while. At a party on campus one weekend, she had somehow ended up taking him back up to her dorm and hooking up with him. She didn’t know what she had expected his reaction to be the next morning, but when with a dashingly sunny smile he’d asked her for dinner, she couldn’t imagine turning him down. She was positively floating with excitement about the upcoming date, and there was no one else she wanted to gush about the new boy in her life to, than her best friend. The only problem was – Aegon had seemingly gone awol.

All day, Y/N’s phone sat on the table beside her, the screen flickering to life now and then with notifications. But none of them were from Aegon.

She tried to focus on her readings, flipping through textbooks, scribbling notes, and chatting with her friends between classes, but her mind kept wandering back to her phone. Each time it buzzed, her heart leapt with a flash of hope, only to come crashing down when it was just another random message or a social media update. No Aegon.

Her fingers hovered over his contact more times than she could count that day. She’d already sent him two texts in the morning: “Hey! Call me when you’re up :)” and “You alive?” Nothing. Hours passed, and she sent another, this time shorter, tinged with impatience: “You around?”

Still, no response.

She tried calling him, just to hear his voice, hoping he’d pick up. But after three rings, it went to voicemail, like it had so many times before. “It’s Aegon. Leave a message or don’t, whatever.” The tone of his message was casual, almost dismissive, but it felt like a punch to the gut. She hung up, biting back her frustration.

Why was he being like this? It wasn’t the first time he’d gone dark on her for days at a time, but it hadn’t always been this way. Before they had left for college, Aegon had been different — always around, always close. But now... It felt like he was slipping through her fingers, like the connection that had always felt unbreakable between them was fraying with every passing day.

Her texts and calls to him became more frequent as the day went on. “Where are you?” “Call me back.” “I need to talk to you.” Each one shorter, more pointed, as her frustration built up. It wasn’t like she was needy, or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself. It was just that today, she needed him. For once, she was the one with something important to share. Something that made her excited and nervous all at once. But Aegon was nowhere to be found.

Instead, she guessed, he was probably out with his new friends. Drinking. Partying. Having a great time without her. The thought twisted in her chest, leaving a sour taste in her mouth. She had seen the posts—pictures of him with a different crowd, new faces, girls, all of them smiling and laughing in places she’d never be invited to.

Aegon used to call her almost every night when they’d first gone to college. Even if it was just to chat, to vent, or to ask her what he should eat for dinner. But lately, those calls had become fewer and far between, replaced by half-hearted texts and vague replies. Sometimes he didn’t answer at all. He was always “busy,” or “with friends.” New friends. People she didn’t know, people he’d never mentioned before.

What was so important that he couldn’t even bother to text her back?

When she reached back to her dorm, Y/N threw her phone down on the bed, flopping beside it as her irritation simmered. She wanted to be angry at herself for caring so much. She had other things to focus on—classes, her friends here in Sunspear, the Martell boy who made her laugh. She was happy, or at least she should be. But Aegon’s silence gnawed at her, a constant reminder that something had shifted between them, and not in a good way.

She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. It wasn’t like before when they’d talk for hours about nothing and everything when he made her feel like she was the only one who knew him. Now, it was like she was just another voice in the background, easily ignored.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. How could he just... Vanish like this? He knew how much they meant to each other—he had to know. And yet, here she was, alone in her room, clutching her phone like it was some lifeline, waiting for a message that might not even come.

The anger built up, flooding her veins with heat. For once, she had something to tell him, something important, and he couldn’t even bother to be there for her. And whenever he had something? Whenever he wanted to talk about his latest hobby, the new song he wrote or just whatever crazy thing the latest girl he had slept with had done after finding out he wanted nothing more to do with her – Y/N was there for him. Listening to him go on and on, on the phone, never once complaining or bored. This was how he repaid her? He was always unreachable now, off with people who seemed to be more interesting, more fun than she could ever be.

She stared at her phone again, jaw clenched, tapping her fingers against her thigh. Just one reply, she thought. One text and I’ll feel better.

But as the minutes ticked by, the screen stayed dark, and the weight of his absence grew heavier. Eventually, she got tired of staring at her lock screen and realised looking at the time that she should be getting dressed for her date, and put her ungrateful idiot of a best friend out of her mind.

Just as she gave up and stood up from her bed though, her phone rang. It was him.

For a split second, relief washed over her. Finally. But as soon as she answered, the irritation she’d been holding onto all day surged to the surface.

“Aegon, what the fuck? I’ve been trying to reach you all day” she snapped, pacing across her room. Her heart was pounding, both from anger and the desperation of needing to hear from him.

On the other end of the line, there was a moment of silence—long enough to make her pause, her breath catching. Then she heard it: the unmistakable sound of Aegon sobbing.

Her heart dropped.

“Aegon?” She whispered, her anger evaporating almost immediately. She could tell from the way he was struggling to breathe, from the hitch in his voice, that something was terribly wrong. “What’s going on?”

“They found out,” he choked out, his voice thick with tears. “My parents... They found out I’ve been missing assignments, failing classes. Everything. They’re so fucking pissed, Y/N. Mum said she won’t get them to pass me this time if I don’t come intern with grandfather this break. They—they threatened to take away my trust fund if I don’t pull it together.”

Y/N sank onto her bed, clutching the phone tighter, her anger dissolving into concern as she listened. Aegon was never like this. He was always so laid back, putting on the devil may care persona, always trying to stow away his vulnerability. But she knew, oh she always knew, the sensitive boy who hid underneath there. Hearing him this upset tugged at her heartstrings in a way that made her chest ache.

“I just... I don’t know what to do,” he continued, his voice raw, as though the words were being ripped out of him. “I hate it here. I’m fucking drowning in this place. It’s so dead, and fucking ancient and…and...” His breath hitched again. “It doesn’t even have you in it.”

Those words stopped her cold.

The burn of irritation she’d carried all day flickered out, replaced by a deep ache. She could almost see him, sitting somewhere alone, head in his hands, breaking apart at the seams. The Aegon who had been partying with new friends, drinking himself into oblivion, wasn’t here right now. This was the real Aegon—the broken boy who hated being left alone, who always needed to have someone hold him, keep him together. Someone, who was more often than not, her.

“Aegon... I’m so sorry.” Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, “I didn’t know things were this bad.”

“It’s just... It’s all fucked up right now, and I can’t stand being here anymore. Everything’s falling apart. And I miss you. I fucking miss you so much.”

Y/N closed her eyes, her heart swelling with empathy. The way he said it—so vulnerable, so real—cut right through her. All the anger she’d built up over the day melted away. She couldn’t stay mad at him, not when he was hurting like this.

She wanted to say something, anything, to make it better. To tell him that it would be alright. But the words got caught in her throat. All she could do was sit there, holding onto the phone, her heart heavy with the weight of his pain.

She heard him sigh deeply on the other end, making her want to reach through the phone and pull him into a hug, to somehow make all of this disappear for him. But she couldn’t. She was hundreds of miles away, stuck in her own life.

When he’d finally gotten it all out of his system, the sobs quieted and his breathing evened out. It was like the storm had passed, leaving behind a hollow calm. “So, what did you wanna talk about?” He asked, his voice still rough, but lighter now, almost as if he’d forgotten his own sadness for a moment.

Y/N blinked, startled by the question. For a second, she’d forgotten, too. Then her eyes flicked down to her phone, and she saw the text notification from her date—“Leaving now, see you soon.”

She hesitated, staring at the message. It would’ve been so easy to tell Aegon the truth, to share the excitement she’d felt earlier. But now, after everything he’d just said, it felt wrong. Like rubbing salt in an open wound. She couldn’t just hang up and go about her night, no. Aegon needed her. And nothing, nothing, could ever come before Aegon for her.

She sighed and started typing out an excuse to Qoren, her fingers moving quickly as she lied into the phone without hesitation. “I was thinking about taking scuba lessons while I’m down here, thoughts?”

There was a pause, and then Aegon snorted. “And prayers. You don’t even know how to swim.”

“I do know how to swim!” She protested, rolling her eyes even though he couldn’t see it, smiling despite herself. “No, you don’t. You’ve always refused to swim with me in the pool back home. You just sit outside with a stupid book every summer.” “Because last time I did come in, you perved at me in my bikini,” she shot back, laughing.

“Oh right,” he said, his tone lighter now, teasing. She could almost hear the cocky grin in his voice. “That coral blue thing, right? Great memory. I can still recall it... Clinging to you in all the right places…”

“Aegon!” She shouted, laughing harder now as he started going into details.

“What? I’m just saying, it was a good look on you. A really, really good look.”

“God, you’re impossible,” she muttered, but there was no anger in her voice now, just warmth as she fell back onto her bed, the weight of the day lifting just a little.

Age 20

Y/N stepped off the taxi into the cool night air, her heart racing with anticipation as she took in the grand spires of Oldtown College.

The trip was almost impulsive. After two years of living in different states and months of practically all their communication being restricted to texting once a week, Y/N decided enough was enough. She had this long weekend free and she asked him what he thought about her coming to visit. He replied “HELLLZ YEA$” and “well get shitfacedd,” which she took as a yes.

She had spent the past few hours imagining his reaction when he saw her, thinking about how much she had missed him. This sudden visit was supposed to be special, a weekend just for them. She was not going to let anything ruin this.

She adjusted the strap of the bag on her shoulder and made her way through the sprawling campus. Everything looked so medieval and stunning, almost imposingly so at times; as if the history of this place was larger than life. She made a mental note to make Aegon properly show her around. But the directions Aegon had given her seemed to take her away from the scenic, old city and out to the outskirts.

She ended up at a large, slightly rundown house, clearly a fraternity. She hesitated at the entrance, the open door spilling the sound of music and laughter out into the night. There was a crowd out on the lawn, and from what she could hear, one inside the building too. She glanced down at her phone to recheck the address, pulling at the helm of the denim skirt she wore in nervousness as she looked around the crowd, but she was pretty sure if the smell of weed and alcohol was anything to go by this place was Aegon’s.

Taking a deep breath, she walked up the front porch steps and inside the house, stepping into a chaotic scene of students, red solo cups in hand, grinding to loud music she couldn’t make out the words to.

“Aegon?” She called out, her voice barely audible over the noise. The sea of unfamiliar faces made her nervous, and she started fidgeting with the strap of her carry-on as she anxiously scanned the place for familiar mop of platinum-blonde hair.

“There she is!” Y/N was startled as two arms suddenly wrapped around her from her side, but she relaxed immediately seeing their owner. “oh thank god, I was half scared you’d forgotten I was showing up today” she chuckled, as she shifted to hug him properly. “are you kidding? It’s all I’ve been talking about all week, ask any of the guys.” She felt an immediate sense of relief, once Aegon was with her, hugging him felt as familiar as her room back home. He smelled exactly as she remembered – the same almost sweet-smelling cologne he’d worn since he was 15, the one she had gifted him, mixed with a strong hint of weed and ash. His arms around her felt the same as they did two years ago too, pressing her impossibly close to his chest as if he couldn’t quite trust her to stay.

When she pulled back from him, he wore one of his lazy smiles, but there was something off in his eyes that made her frown slightly. She realised the bags underneath his eyes were darker and he was sweating all over. Okay, maybe it wasn’t all familiar. “you okay?” She searched his face, but he reflected nothing other than his usual impishness, though his eyes felt unusually blank to her. “you’re here I’m more than a-okay, I’m great. Now this party can finally start!” Looking around Y/N wondered if this was the party before it had even started then she didn’t want to stick around to watch it ‘begin.’

“let’s grab you a drink” Aegon took hold of her wrist and started to pull her into the party, but she grabbed she forearm with her free hand to stop him. “I’ve just been on one long train ride, then a taxi, I think I’d rather freshen up first. Can we go to my hotel? Were you able to book that cute, old B&B, the Tower Inn, I asked you to?”

He scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the ground as his grin faltered. “Oh, right… about that… I, uh, forgot.” He winced slightly, but before she could respond, he quickly added, “But it’s fine, you can stay here at the frat! We’ve got plenty of space.”

Y/N’s smile wavered. “Stay here? Aegon, I don’t know if that’s—”

“Hey, it’ll be fun!” Aegon interrupted, grabbing her shoulders with his grin back in full force. His eyes fell on the bag she was carrying and he took it off her, “and anyway you can’t leave, I’ve thrown this party in your honour, after all.” He walked a few steps into a hallway to his left, opening the first door, a door she hoped opened into his room and not some random person’s as he threw her bag in there, unceremoniously. “Plus, it’s just for a weekend. What’s the worst that could happen?”

There were in fact many answers she could think to that question, knowing Aegon. Before she could tell him that this wasn’t how she had imagined their weekend together though, he’d grabbed her hand and was already pulling her deeper into the crowd.

He thrust into her hand a solo cup which smelled so strong Y/N wanted to keep it at arm’s length. He then went about introducing her to his frat brothers and friends as enthusiastically as possible, but he wouldn’t let her linger with any one of them. He moved through the room with such easy confidence, Y/N was reminded of why all the girls back at school found his ways charming instead of irritating as she often did. Y/N didn’t have as easy a time at the party though. The room was a whirl of noise and energy, and as much as she tried to immerse herself in it, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place.

After a while, Aegon started to get distracted, his attention repeatedly drifting away from Y/N. First, it was a group of his frat brothers who pulled him into a conversation about some upcoming trip. Then, he got roped into a drinking game, which somehow left him with his shirt off. Y/N tried to pull him aside, fitting him his shirt as she attempted to talk to him about how things had been going for her at college. He seemed to be simply nodding to what she was saying, as he patted his pockets to find something. When his pockets turned up empty, he made an excuse and rushed away to the bathroom. Y/N could only stand there blinking at the place which was previously occupied by him.

Upon his return, she observed there was an extra pep in his step, he seemed to be bursting with energy even more than usual. His words came out rushed, and his eyes were unfocused, even when he was talking to Y/N she had the distinct feeling he wasn’t really listening. It didn’t take long for her to figure out what exactly had changed from the last time she’d seen him.

She tried to stay close to him, but every time she turned around, he was off again, engaged in some new activity or laughing with another group of friends. Eventually, Y/N found herself sipping a suspicious soda she found in the fridge, forcing smiles whenever someone glanced her way, but inside, she was starting to feel more like a spectator than a guest of honour.

From where she stood on the sidelines, her eyes followed Aegon’s figure around the room, the feeling that this weekend might have been a mistake now sinking in. All she’d wanted was for it to be like old times for just one weekend, just the two of them hanging around like they did back in school. She was starting to realise that maybe Aegon wasn’t the same person he was back in school anymore.

Aegon, now deep into his drinks, seemed completely at ease, blending into the chaos around him. But every time Y/N caught his eye, he would flash her a quick smile, as if that would somehow make up for his absence. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, other than stand all alone by the edge of the room, feeling increasingly invisible.

She was lost in her thoughts when a tall guy with a sleazy smirk approached her. He was holding a half-empty beer and leaned in too close for comfort. “Hey there,” he said smoothly, a little too smoothly, his eyes roving over her in a way that made her skin crawl. “You look like you could use some company.”

Y/N stiffened, glancing around the room for Aegon, but he was nowhere in sight. “I’m fine, thanks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady and polite, but the guy didn’t take the hint. He stepped closer, his grin widening as he reached out to touch her arm.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he coaxed, his tone dripping with false charm. “Let me get you a real drink. You’re too pretty to be standing here all by yourself.”

Before she could respond, she felt a familiar arm sling around her shoulders, pulling her close in a protective, yet slightly possessive, gesture. “ah! there you are Y/N, I see you’ve found our resident creep Walder” Aegon’s voice cut through the tension, slurred and slightly rough, but still carrying enough authority.

The guy’s eyes widened in recognition, his cocky demeanour instantly replaced with a more cautious one. “Oh, sorry, Egg,” he stammered, raising his hands in a mock surrender. “Didn’t know she was your girl.”

Aegon didn’t bother to correct him, his grip on Y/N’s shoulder tightening for a moment. Only when the other guy quickly slinked away into the crowd, did Aegon let his arm drop to his side, leaving Y/N standing there with a mixture of relief and irritation inside her.

She turned to Aegon, shrugging off the lingering sensation of his arm around her. “What was that about?” She demanded, her voice sharp, though she was trying to keep her emotions in check.

Aegon just shrugged, as he raised his beer to his lips. “he’s a dick,” he muttered before taking a long swig, his eyes already drifting back to the party as if nothing had happened.

Y/N’s frustration flared. “after freezing me out for most of the night you can’t just show up and act like some kind of knight in shining armour.”

Aegon rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by her reaction. “he’s an ass, I just stepped in to handle it. Stop making a big deal out of nothing.”

“That’s the problem, Aegon!” She snapped, her voice rising with her anger. “You act like everything is just... Whatever. Like nothing matters! You didn’t even correct him when he assumed I was just... Just some girl with you for the night.”

“So what?” Aegon shot back, his irritation now matching hers. “What difference does it make? What does it matter what he thinks?”

“It matters to me!” Y/N shouted, her voice filled with the intensity of her emotions. “I came all this way to see you, and all you’ve done is ignore me and get drunk. Do you even care that I’m here?” “I don’t need this right now.” He muttered, looking around the room again as if searching for an escape.

Y/N felt a lump rise in her throat, the hurt overwhelming her. “oh, I’m sorry am I killing your buzz? Fine then,” she said, her voice trembling with barely contained tears. “I’m out of here.”

Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her vision blurred by the tears she was desperately trying to hold back. She pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances thrown her way, and made her way upstairs, locking herself in the first room she saw which turned out to be the bathroom.

She leaned against the door as she finally let the tears spill freely, sobs escaping her throat. She slid down to the floor, her head in her hands, the weight of the night crashing down on her. This wasn’t how she had imagined their reunion, not at all. It was supposed to be special, but instead, it was turning into a nightmare.

A few minutes passed before she heard a knock on the door. “Y/N?” Aegon’s voice was hesitant, still slurred but tinged with a mix of frustration and concern. “Come on, open up. I know you’re in there. Why are you being like this?”

She didn’t respond, trying to stifle her sobs lest he hear them. But the knocking persisted, followed by the sound of him leaning against the door. “Y/N, seriously, just let me in,” he mumbled, his tone softening slightly.

For a second he sounded so sincere, so much like her best friend, that she could almost forget that he was the reason she was crying on the bathroom floor in the first place.

She hesitated, but then stood and unlocked the door, opening it just enough to see him standing there. His usual confident demeanour had slipped slightly, replaced with a defeated look of annoyance as he leaned against the doorframe. “Why are you being such a Debbie downer?” He whined, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“I came all this way to see you and you’ve…” she repeated, her voice cracking as she wiped away the tears. She knew who her best friend was, she knew he had never been the guy to stick by her side all night, to ignore the world when she was around, to make her feel like she was the only person in the world he cared about. But the display of the night had set a new low bar, even for him.

“You always do this,” he muttered, his words slurring slightly as he swayed on his feet, his voice filled with annoyance. “You show up, and suddenly I’m supposed to drop everything, like nothing else matters. Well, I can’t! It’s a party, and I’m not going to babysit you all night.” He sounded so thoughtless and inconsiderate, his face looked so exhausted by the idea of having to be around her.

Her heart twisted at his words, enough anger to make her want to throw something at him flared up inside her and mixed with the sadness of being like a burden to him. “oh well, forgive me for thinking my best friend of ten fucking years would prioritise seeing me for one stupid weekend over attending one of his hundred parties” he looked positively offended at her words and shot, “I threw this one for you!” “Well, I didn’t ask for this!” She snapped back, her voice rising. “I just wanted to spend time with you, Aegon.” Though rage filled her, she should couldn’t help how her tone softened, when she added, “Is that so hard?”

He let out a sharp, exasperated breath, his eyes narrowing, though she could tell he was having a hard time focusing. She was now close enough in that suffocating bathroom to see the beads of sweat on his forehead and neck. His breathing seemed more rapid, she was sure she could hear his heartbeat if she honed in on the sound. This wasn’t the effect of just weed and alcohol, she knew how he reacted to those.

He rubbed his face with his fingers, before dragging them through his hair making them appear even more unruly. “It’s not about it being hard, Y/N. It’s just... Things get complicated with you. You come in with these expectations, and I’m just… I don’t know how to be what you want!” His frustration was clear, but she couldn’t understand what the hell he was so frustrated about.

“What expectations?” Y/N’s voice was incredulous, and confused at his words. Aegon opened his mouth to start to say something to her in response but then stopped midway. He turned around, his back now facing her as he rubbed his eyes, as if talking to her now was a strain on them.

Her anger bubbled over once again, “I just wanted you to act like you cared! Like maybe I wasn’t just some afterthought to you. But how can you even do that when you’re high out of your mind on coke.”

Aegon suddenly turned back to her at the accusation, looking defensive but taken aback. “Don’t start with that,” he shot back as he took a step towards her, his voice sharp despite the slurring. “I’m fine, Y/N. You don’t need to come in here and act like you know what’s best for me.”

“Fine? You call this fine?” Y/N’s voice cracked with a mix of anger and concern. She took a step towards him and grabbed his soaking wet t-shirt, “You’re sweating like this in a fully air-conditioned house, you keep going to the bathroom every five seconds like you ate some bad curry and your eyes are so unfocused you’ve barely looked at me this entire time.” Aegon in response looked less like an addict apprehended and more like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. He looked sheepish almost, his eyes looking away from her, but she caught some shame behind them. Were it anyone else giving him this lecture he would have laughed in their face, but the fact that it was her, it seemed to break through his confident façade.

Her gaze momentarily dropped from his eyes to his lips and she let out a dry, humourless laugh as she saw leftover vestiges of some white powder on his upper lip. She reached out with one hand to brush it aside, sighing sadly “I’m guessing this isn’t sugar.” She had a sudden realisation then how intimate the moment had become, they were standing only inches apart, with one of her hands still grabbing his shirt, the other cupping his face. He looked back at her with a vulnerability that left her feeling like her cheeks were on fire. He didn’t ask her for space, but she suddenly felt like she needed to be miles away from him.

“you know what, you’re right.” She let go of him and cleared her throat as she took a step back. “actually you don’t even need to be in here with me, I’m clearly keeping you from this rager of a party and probably some grade-a-quality coke.” The smell of sweat and smoke mixed in with whiskey and expensive cologne, the smell of Aegon, was getting too much for her when she stood this close to him. She tried to take a few more steps away, as much as the small place would allow when he suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

“You don’t get to judge me. You think I don’t care? You think I don’t want to be with you?” She blinked back at his almost pitiful expression, eyes that seemed like they were seconds away from spilling tears. For a second she thought the emphasis with which he said the phrase ‘be with you’ he might not mean just the party, but she couldn’t be sure and the moment fleeted as he went on, “I’m doing my best, but I’m not going to change who I am just because you want something different!” his words spilling out faster than his brain could process them, his frustration mingling with the fog of intoxication.

“I’m not asking you to change who you are!” Y/N shot back, her voice rising in intensity. “I’m asking you to stop pretending like everything’s cool. You keep pushing me away, and then you act like it’s my fault.”

“Maybe it is your fault!” He accused with his voice rising enough to make Y/N flinch and take a step back, but he didn’t let go of her wrist and instead walked closer to her, backing them up till she was against the wall, trapped by him. “because this is what you do. You look at me with those big-big eyes, expecting me to be someone different, someone good, someone more like you. But I’m not you. And I can’t be.” He sounded so resigned, as if this was always how it was going to be, how he was going to be. And the fact that she wanted something better for him was nothing more than a distant, impossible dream. She noticed the tears welling in his eyes were now escaping and she had to do everything in her power to remain mad at him and not wipe them away. Though his tone was one of anger, his expression looked as if this pained him, as if he was cursed and she wasn’t understanding how doomed he was. “I can’t be who you need me to be. And maybe if you didn’t come in here expecting that, expecting everything to be perfect, we wouldn’t be having this fight!”

She scoffed at his words, “Perfect? I of all people would never expect perfect from you Aegon. And I’ve never said you need to be so. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to give a damn! About me, about yourself—about anything!”

They were close now, the space between them almost non-existent, their breaths coming fast and harsh. Aegon still held onto her wrist tight enough to hurt her, but she stared up at him almost defiantly. The air crackled with unresolved tension, the anger between them sparking like a live wire.

Aegon swayed slightly, his hands trembling as he struggled to keep his balance, his whole body tense with frustration. “You think I don’t give a damn?” He growled, his voice low and dangerous, though the slur was still there. “You think I don’t care?”

Before she could respond, Aegon pulled her toward him by the wrist he had been holding capture, with a force that was more clumsy than intentional. His lips crashed against hers in a kiss that was fierce and unyielding, all the pent-up anger and frustration pouring out in that single, desperate moment. It was a collision, an explosion of everything they hadn’t been able to say, their argument turning into something else entirely.

Y/N responded instinctively, her free hand gripping the front of his shirt as if to hold on, the intensity of the kiss taking her by surprise. The anger that had fuelled their fight was still there, but it was being channelled into something raw and primal, a release of all the emotions they had been bottling up. Aegon’s movements were uncoordinated, the kiss messy and driven by the haze of alcohol and drugs, but it was full of the desperate need to connect, to keep her so close to him that she could not leave. His tongue wasted no time in pushing past her lips, with little to no defence being put up by Y/N. As his tongue massaged hers, he finally let go of her wrist and instead reached to put his hands under her shirt, touching the soft skin of her bare lower back. Her own hands reached for his hair, fisting the pale blonde strands for dear life.

He broke the kiss only to travel to the side of her neck, making Y/N gasp with the ferocity with which he attached himself there. She felt the euphoric feeling of his soft lips against her sensitive skin interchange with him cutting at it with his teeth every once in a while, the whiplash of pleasure and pain making her moan. His hand then travelled to her legs, pulling them apart slightly by hooking his hand under her knee, before it trailed up her thigh, and then stopped.

He lifted his head from the crook of her neck, his expression hooded with lust. At him pulling back she became nervous momentarily and searched for any sign of hesitation or regret in him, but was relieved when she found none. All he said was, “Do you want me to stop?” The feeling of his thumb brushing up against her clothed core as his hand grabbed the flesh of her inner thigh, was so tantalising, so inviting, that she could barely get words out, instead just quickly shaking her head. That was all the confirmation he needed, as he caught her breath in his mouth once again closing the very little gap between them.

He had settled in between her thighs, and Y/N couldn’t help but buck her hips against his, with a desperate need to have him pressing against her. Aegon seemingly shared that need as he rubbed against her by pulled her parted thighs closer to his body which made her denim skirt ride up even higher, his lips never leaving hers to so much as breathe.

He shifted his hand to fully place it between her legs and the sudden manner in which he moved her panties aside, letting the air hit her exposed pussy made Y/N gasp into the kiss. Aegon’s finger were quickly rubbing at her button, making her yelp and break the kiss. “Aegon…” she threw her head back against the tilled wall of the bathroom at the feeling of him pressing down against her sensitive spot, his hand moving with vigour and impatience. He then moved his index finger from her clit to push through her folds, his thumb replacing it at the top. His finger curled up inside her in the most delicious way, his thumb never ceasing from massaging her nub. “look at you, dripping with just one finger.” Y/N might have felt more embarrassed by the overenthusiastic response her body had to Aegon, if her mind had the ability to focus on anything other than the feeling in her stomach that just wanted to be pushed further, to reach some conclusion. He seemed dissatisfied with her lack of a response, and pushed another finger in her without warning, making her grab his shoulder and hiss in pleasure.

“Tell me do you like this, like being finger-fucked in the bathroom like a dirty slut?” He cooed in her ear, “yes” she rasped out as her body squirmed from the stimulation. His fingers were working at a rapid speed, pounding into her cunt. Her juices had made the job easier for him, the sick sound of his fingers sliding in and out of her with ease was putting her over the edge. “and how does it feel, to be the dirty little whore getting taken in some fucking party?” Her chest was rising and falling with her quick shallow breaths, to the point that she barely registered his words, but she noticed when he suddenly stopped moving his fingers, holding still inside her. “I asked you how does it feel?” She whined in response, as she opened her eyes to look at him which allowed her to finally see his expression.

She didn’t know what she had expected Aegon to look like, but looking this… delicate, had certainly not been what she would have imagined. He looked almost expectant as if he needed her to tell him how good she felt, how good he was making her feel, how good he was. She reached out and cupped his face, replying with sincerity “Amazing.” The way his face lit up hearing that, she could have watched him forever. His fingers slowly began to start their movement again, “and who’s making you feel this way?” “you, you, you….only you.” She croaked out as she tried to rub herself against his fingers to increase the pace. Her hand reached out covering his hand with her own, trying to push his fingers deeper inside her in desperation which made him grin cockily. “such a needy little slut… all for me.” She could only whimper in response.

It seemed he had gotten his satisfactory answer, because he restarted his previous pace, making her bite down on her lip to silence her moans as she neared her end. “c’mon let me hear your pretty little cries, let me hear you scream” he goaded her as his assault on her folds reached its zenith and she came with a cry of his name.

She felt empty as he pulled his fingers out of her, only to push them against her lips in a silent command, which she readily obeyed. She parted her lips and licked his fingers clean, as he watched with bated breath, “such a good girl” he murmured.

As she finished she noticed the bulge he was now supporting, aroused from all the activity. “my turn” she panted. With unsteady hands she felt his length over the jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them down with his underwear to reveal just how ready he was for her, precum leaking off his tip. Her eyes looked up at him for silent approval, as she wrapped her small hand around him. He merely reached out and placed one of her out-of-place hair strands behind her ear, looking on not only in anticipation but also in simple adoration of her. It made her heart beat faster, if that was even possible, as she started to tug at his length.

She felt nervous as she started, but the constant string of praise Aegon was whispering in her ear kept her going. She loved the reaction she could elicit from him, it gave her a high not unlike the one she got when he was pumping his fingers in and out of her. She watched as his face twisted in pleasure, as he had to place a hand on the wall behind her to keep himself upright, as he bit down on his lip with a soft sigh of “fuck.” She’d known him forever and yet, she couldn’t recall a moment that he looked more beautiful than he did in that moment – standing between her legs, her hand reached out to the space between them, squeezing his hard shaft. As he realised he was near completion, he harshly grabbed a hold of her waist and pressed her back to him in a rough kiss, making him come right there on her inner thigh.

He rested his forehead against hers, as they simply stilled for a moment. She could hear the music floating from the party raging outside the bathroom, which almost brought her back to reality. She wanted to say so many things to Aegon, wanted to discuss what this even meant, but she felt this dream was far too beautiful to be so rudely awoken from just yet. From the lack of words from Aegon, she guessed they were on the same page about this.

She glanced down as she felt him harden already against her soft thigh, and glanced back up at him. His expression remained glazed over, as he hummed in content against her skin. “you have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now,” her mouth went dry at his admission. “what’s stopping you?” She boldly replied, a determination in her eyes.

“yeah?” A smile broke across his lips at her encouragement, “you want this?” “I want you.” She confirmed as she reached out and kissed him. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, his hand grabbing her breast through her shirt as he did. He then abruptly turned her around by the waist so she was facing the wall, taking her hands and placing them on either side of her for balance. She could feel him lift up her skirt and slowly drag her panties down her legs, till they were off of her, seeing him place them in his jeans’ back pocket out of the corner of her eye.

He lined up against her and she was waiting in anticipation for when he would fill her, when a knock on the door interrupted the moment suddenly. “Aegon?” In carried the voice of a girl attempting to shout through the door, “Walder said he saw you go in here. How long are you going to be, babe?”

Aegon cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes at the interruption and turning toward the door. “Be there in a minute!”

Without missing a beat, he turned back to her, trying to resume where they left off, hands slipping around her waist. “Looks like it’ll have to be a quickie.”

But the tension between them was starting to dissipate, replaced by a sinking feeling in Y/N’s chest. “‘Babe’?” She echoed softly, the realisation hitting her as she slowly asked, “Do you have a girlfriend?” Aegon rubbed his eyes as if the question was an irritating inconvenience. “Define girlfriend.”

“Oh my gods.” Reality came crashing down on her, as she turned around and shoved past him to put distance between them. She grabbed some tissues and started to clean up the mix of his and her own fluids running down her thighs, angry beyond belief and hurt beyond repair. She pulled her skirt down, and got ready to leave.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Aegon asked, bewildered, trying to reach for her again, but she stepped back, avoiding his touch. “just stay the fuck away from me!” She shouted at him. His expression looked confused, which made her even more angry. How could he possibly not get what a big fuck up this was on his part?

Y/N’s voice trembled, but the words spilt out like a dam breaking. “All this time we’ve been friends, I used to be so arrogant about how close we are. How I wasn’t like all the others. That I wasn’t just ‘one of your girls.’” Her chest heaved as she fought to keep her voice steady. “But you’ve proven me wrong, Aegon. You’ve proven that all you’ve ever thought of me is as just one more pretty thing to fuck.”

Aegon blinked, clearly taken aback, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air between them. “Y/N, wait—”

But she was already turning away, her throat tight with unshed tears. The bathroom felt suffocating, the walls closing in on her, and she needed to escape, to get away from the mess she’d walked into.

She pushed the door open, the pounding bass of the party hitting her like a wave as she slipped out into the crowd. She ran to the room where she remembered Aegon throwing her things and grabbed her bag as she made her exit from the frat house.

Outside, the cool night air slapped her in the face, and the cold made her glad to have another sensation to focus on that wasn’t the hurt inside her chest. She stumbled down the steps, her vision blurred, as she started almost jogging on the pathway leading her away. She just wanted to put this place behind her, wanted to get as far away from Aegon as her feet could take her. Lost in her own thoughts she barely noticed the familiar voice calling out to her from a car that had stopped next to her on the road.

She turned around to see a boy with his overgrown curly hair at the wheel, the window of his car pulled down as he looked on with concern. She hadn’t seen him in a year or so but his identity was unmistakable to her, “Jace?” She vaguely remembers Aegon telling her with much annoyance that his nephew had joined him at Oldtown this term.

“You alright?” He looked at her with sympathetic eyes and she had the distinct feeling that he knew the reason for her distress had to be his uncle. Y/N wiped hastily at her eyes, trying to pull herself together. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, her voice barely a whisper. “just need to find a place to stay for tonight.”

“Hop in, let me give you a lift to a decent inn.” He kindly offered, a small, inviting smile on his face. She hesitated, her pride warring with the crushing need for comfort. She looked around and realised she didn’t have many options anyway. With a quiet nod, she accepted Jace’s offer and got in.

The car door clicked shut behind her as she sank into the seat “Thank you,” she softly muttered. He simply shrugged, “It’s no big deal. There’s this amazing place called the Tower Inn, just around the corner. It’s usually got room this time of year.” She couldn’t help but chuckle humourlessly at the mention of the place she had originally planned to be at, if all had gone to plan “Sounds good.”

288 notes · View notes

justabigassnerd · 2 months

Text

Anxieties

Pairing - Tim Bradford x teen!reader

Word count - 3,918

Warnings - angst, fluff, anxieties, Kojo is the best boy, brief mention of nightmares

Summary - after the ordeal with your uncle, your anxieties begin to take hold of you, worrying the others

A/N - hey y'all it's finally time for another fic! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get a new fic out, this was an anon request and I hope I did it justice. I won't ramble but as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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In the few weeks that passed after the ordeal with your uncle, you had found yourself on edge a lot more than normal. You felt like every time you surveyed a room, or walked down a street alone, you could see your uncle. But the moment you looked away and then looked back, he was gone. The logical part of your brain knew that Steve had been locked away and that Tim would never let him get near you but part of you was terrified that he’d somehow escape unnoticed and come after you. After all, Steve knew where you lived.

Despite all your anxieties, you hadn’t told Tim about them. He made it known that you could come to him about anything that was troubling you and you appreciated his willingness to be there for you. But you were scared that Tim would think you were being stupid for being so worried. So you opted to suffer in silence, constantly on edge and suffering from reoccurring nightmares about Steve hurting those you love.

Unbeknownst to you, Tim was suffering in his own fair share of anxieties regarding your safety. He always made sure that someone he trusted was picking you up from school now instead of relying on the school bus. He had asked you to send him regular updates throughout the day just to make sure you were okay and he even got the idea from Nolan to implement a safe word plan to let him know if anything was wrong or if you were completely fine.

“Chen, I’ve got a meeting with Kiara in a few, do you think you could pick y/n up for me?” Tim asks, bumping into Lucy as she is on her way out of the locker room, now in her civvies instead of her uniform. Tim had begun to have regular meetings with Kiara about moving forward with adopting you, she had been talking him through everything and he was soon going to have the official paperwork he was going to surprise you with somehow.

“Yeah, that’s fine I can do that,” Lucy says with a smile, already beginning to dig her car keys out of her pocket as she nods.

“Thank you,” Tim says gratefully, pulling out his phone to text you and let you know that Lucy would be picking you up before bidding Lucy goodbye and making his way to Grey’s office to pick up the paperwork he needed to do. Lucy heads out to her car, gets in, and drives in the direction of your school as she hums along to the song on the radio.

“Looks like Lucy is picking me up today.” You mumble as you read the text on your phone while you and your friends exit the school building.

“What have you done that means that you’re now being picked up every day instead of taking the school bus like you used to?” Juliet asks jokingly, wondering why you had suddenly stopped taking the bus.

“I don’t know. Maybe there was a rough case and Tim just wants to make sure I’m safe.” You shrug. You hadn’t told your friends about what had happened with your uncle but you didn’t think that you being picked up regularly was a product of that as it started a week after the incident. You had just come to the conclusion that Tim had gone through a rough case that caused this. As you glance around you quickly locate Lucy’s car as she pulls up and you say goodbye to your friends with the promise to text them later before heading over to the car, greeting Lucy as you get in.

“Hey y/n/n. How was school?” Lucy asks cheerfully as you get into the car, putting your bag in the footwell in front of you before buckling up your seatbelt.

“It was okay. It was school.” You say with a light shrug, offering Lucy a smile.

“Any fun gossip from today that you can tell me but not Tim?” Lucy then asks as she starts the car beginning the drive to your house. Over the time you had known her, Lucy had become your confidant. Anything you wanted to tell someone about that you weren’t ready to talk to Tim about, you could go to Lucy and she’d support you and give you advice when you needed it.

“No, sorry.” You say with a slight laugh as Lucy groans jokingly. The two of you continue to chat with each other until you make it home and you invite Lucy in as you usually did when she drove you home.

“Did you want to take Kojo on a walk with me?” You ask as you unlock the front door, looking over at Lucy as she nods.

“I’ll never turn down an opportunity to hang out with Kojo,” Lucy says with a smile, entering the house behind you, immediately crouching down to pet Kojo as he comes over to greet you while you put your bag down and grab Kojo’s lead.

“Let’s go then, buddy.” You say to Kojo, clipping his lead on before the two of you leave the house again with Kojo trotting loyally by your side.

“Hey, do you want me to text Jackson and have him meet us at the park?” Lucy asks, pulling her phone out of her pocket as you nod with a smile.

“The more the merrier.” You say as Lucy types a message to Jackson. You felt a little safer knowing there would be not one but two police officers with you so if something did happen, both Lucy and Jackson would look out for you. You and Lucy continue to talk as you make your way to the park, settling down on a bench and playing fetch with Kojo once you arrive while you wait for Jackson to arrive. Before too long has passed, Jackson arrives, greeting you both with a smile before joining you on the bench, watching as Kojo sniffs around the park, investigating.

“How does it feel knowing you guys aren’t rookies for much longer?” You ask curiously, looking over at the two as Kojo comes trotting over, sitting by your feet and dropping the ball in his mouth at Jackson’s looking up at him and quietly begging for Jackson to throw the ball which he does so, sending Kojo darting off after it.

“It’s weird. But exciting. I can’t wait to patrol and not worry about when the next ‘Tim Test’ will happen.” Lucy admits with a laugh as Jackson nods in agreement.

“I mean I didn’t have Tim as my TO but I’m ready to get out on the streets without someone watching my every move,” Jackson says, watching as you nod. The three of you continue to talk about everything that comes to mind until Kojo comes trotting up to you, panting and signalling that he’s done playing.

“Come on, we’ll walk you home. I’m sure Tim will be home soon anyway.” Lucy says as all three of you stand from the bench and as you look up after clipping Kojo’s lead back on his collar you could’ve sworn that you caught sight of Steve disappearing behind a tree and it made you freeze in place, your breath hitching in your throat as you watch carefully to see if the person emerges again or not.

“Hello? Earth to y/n.” Lucy says, waving a hand in front of your face and bringing you back to reality.

“Sorry.” You say sheepishly, not missing Lucy and Jackson’s worried glance between each other.

“Is everything okay?” Lucy then asks, watching you carefully before Jackson speaks up.

“Did you see something?” Jackson asks, immediately on high alert as he surveys the park, looking for any suspicious behaviour.

“No, I just zoned out for a minute. Everything’s fine.” You say quickly with a weak chuckle before turning on your heels and walking off with Kojo by your side with Lucy and Jackson rushing after you. They were both worried about you but with your dismissive attitude, they didn’t want to push too much and drive you back into your cocoon after all the progress you’d made since being fostered, so as they followed you, they decided they’d bring it up with Tim and see if you’d open up to him about anything that was bothering you.

“Hey, is it okay if we come in and wait for Tim with you? I wanted to ask him something.” Lucy asks as you approach the house, turning to face them with a nod and a small smile.

“Yeah, he’s evidently not back yet so I’m fine if you come in to wait.” You say, unlocking the door and allowing them to come in while you crouch down to unhook Kojo from his lead, watching as he trots off in search of his water bowl. You, Jackson, and Lucy then sit in the living room and make small talk until you hear the key in the door and Tim announce his arrival, making you get up to greet him.

“Hey, Tim.” You say as you meet Tim by the door, hugging him quickly and missing the way Tim’s eyebrows furrowed at your greeting. Since the incident with your uncle, you’d started calling Tim ‘Dad’ a bit more often. You weren’t fully confident about calling him that in public or in front of other people just yet and Tim was okay with that, he just found it odd that you were calling him ‘Tim’ at home but when he heard more footsteps and looked up to see Lucy and Jackson he understood your shyness.

“Chen, West, what brings you here?” Tim asks as he releases you from the hug, watching as the two approach.

“We just wanted to talk to you about something,” Lucy says, fiddling with her fingers nervously.

“Okay,” Tim says simply.

“I’ll go to my room to give you some privacy.” You whisper quietly, grabbing your bag off the floor and heading to your room. Kojo follows behind you to keep you company while Tim, Lucy, and Jackson sit in the living room to talk.

“What’s up?” Tim asks, glancing between the two rookies as they each take a deep breath.

“We’re a little worried about y/n,” Lucy says, starting the conversation as Tim’s eyebrows furrow in thought.

“What’s going on? Is she okay?” Tim asks, already bracing his hands on either side of himself, ready to push himself onto his feet to go and check on you.

“We don’t know exactly but we both joined her when she took Kojo for a walk and just as we were getting ready to leave the park it was like she zoned out and she looked a little scared almost,” Jackson explains as best he can, recalling the event from earlier. Tim listens carefully thinking everything over in his head to try and figure out what it is that’s wrong.

“And she didn’t say anything?” Tim presses, wanting to get as much information out of the two as he can.

“She didn’t say anything. She said she was fine but I don’t fully buy it.” Lucy says, watching Tim carefully as he nods, carefully listening to every word she says.

“I’ll keep an eye on her. I don’t want to force her to tell me anything unless she’s ready to. But thank you for letting me know.” Tim says, nodding appreciatively at the two as they offer a small smile each before they decide to head home, both of them bidding Tim a quiet goodbye before they leave the house, leaving Tim alone with his thoughts until you appear in the doorway to the living room.

“Did Lucy and Jackson go home?” You ask, immediately noticing that the two are no longer in the house.

“Yeah, they left not too long ago. Sorry, I should’ve let you know they were leaving.” Tim apologises, watching as you shake your head with a small smile.

“I’ll see them again soon enough, it’s fine.” You say, assuring Tim that it was okay. In response, Tim nods with a tight-lipped smile as he gets to his feet.

“You hungry? I was going to make some dinner.” Tim asks, watching as you nod quietly, following him to the kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island and watching as Tim starts to get out various ingredients.

“Where’s Kojo?” Tim asks, noticing the lack of Kojo’s presence.

“He must’ve worn himself out on our walk because he hopped up on my bed and fell asleep before I’d even started my homework.” You say with a laugh.

“Well, we’ll let him sleep then. How else is he going to get the energy to drag me around on tomorrow morning’s walk?” Tim jokes, making you shake your head, laughing at the image of Tim being dragged around by Kojo.

“We can’t let him miss out on his dinner though.” You say watching Tim shake his head with a smile.

“Oh, he’ll know when it’s time for his dinner. You know that.” Tim says as you recall all the times Kojo used to paw and whine at you and Tim when it got close to his dinner time. You help Tim make dinner and he keeps a close eye on you, seeing if he can pinpoint any unusual behaviours from you. By the time you’ve finished making dinner and sat down to eat, Kojo had emerged from your room and demanded his dinner which you gave to him after you finished eating. As you finish tidying up after yourself, you turn to face Tim.

“I’m going to finish off my homework. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” You say, receiving a quick nod from Tim before you head off to your room, settling down at your desk and opening your laptop. Unbeknownst to Tim, you had actually finished your homework relatively quickly and easily earlier in the day, instead of doing any schoolwork when you opened your laptop, you opened a new tab and quickly searched up the recent news in Los Angeles. Your eyes scanned the various headlines that popped up, searching to see if there was anything to do with your uncle and him potentially escaping from prison somehow. You could feel your heart pounding and feel your mouth drying up as anxiety begins to wind itself around every part of you. When you read through the entire day’s worth of news, you let out a soft sigh of relief at the realisation that your uncle was still in prison. Despite the reassurance, you couldn’t shake the anxiety off that easily. Even after reading the various news headlines, even refreshing the page several times to double-check that nothing new had come through but even multiple checks couldn’t put your anxious mind at rest. You then decided to try and take your mind off it by catching up on some shows you and your friends have been talking about. You managed to watch a few episodes, but the moment a plotline came up in one of the crime shows where it depicted a convict escaping prison, you had to close your laptop and walk away from your desk. Your anxiety was now in high drive and you didn’t know how to stop it.

As if he sensed your troubles, Kojo nosed his way into your room as you sat down on the end of your bed, propping himself up on your legs using his front paws and resting his head on your lap, whining softly as he looked up at you.

“Hey, buddy.” You whisper shakily, beginning to pet Kojo softly, feeling your pounding heart begin to slow at the comforting presence of the dog. Taking your subtle cue, Kojo hauls himself up onto the bed alongside you, laying himself fully across your lap, the weight of your beloved dog helping to ground you even further as you repeatedly stroke his head. You stay put with Kojo for a few minutes before you decide to get ready for bed, having had enough of the day. You settled in bed, reading one of your lighthearted books with Kojo at your feet, and after about twenty minutes, Tim knocked on your door, entering with permission.

“Hey, kid.” Tim greets you softly, crossing to your bedside and smiling down at you.

“Hey.” You greet, putting your bookmark into your book and closing it, looking up at Tim.

“Goodnight, if you need me you can come and get me,” Tim says, leaning down to give you a hug which you reciprocate with a smile.

“I know, goodnight Dad.” You reply quietly, your smile widening slightly when you feel Tim tighten the hug ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Tim says, releasing you from the hug, reaching down to pet Kojo and then making his way out of your room and back to his own room to go to bed. You choose to stay up a few more minutes, reading your book to put your mind at ease enough to fall asleep and when your eyelids begin to grow heavy, you put your book down, turned your light off and drifted off to sleep.

A few hours later, you bolted up in bed, panting heavily with tears in your eyes and fumbling to switch your lamp on as Kojo lifted his head, watching you quietly.

“Sorry buddy.” You whisper, reaching over to pet Kojo. He lets out a soft whine, stretching over to rest his head on your lap, and you try to force the memories of the nightmare out of your head. As you sit there petting Kojo, you feel your mouth drying up in your anxiety so you gently move Kojo off your lap and head out to the kitchen to get a drink of water.

While you headed off to the kitchen, Kojo hopped off your bed and made a beeline to Tim’s room, pawing at the door to push it open enough for him to creep in. Kojo made his way into the room, propping his front legs on the bed and pawing at Tim, waking him up instantly.

“Kojo, go to sleep,” Tim says, cracking an eye open and seeing the dog watching him. When he attempted to close his eyes, Kojo pawed at Tim once more, whining and making Tim open his eyes again, this time propping himself up on his elbow as he switched his lamp on.

“What is it?” Tim asks, aware of how silly it is to be asking a dog for an answer but after seeing the almost worried look on Kojo’s face, he starts to grow concerned himself.

“Is something wrong with y/n?” Tim then asks, and at his words, Kojo pushes off the bed and walks over to the door, looking back at Tim over his shoulder as Tim pushes himself off the bed and follows Kojo as he leads him to the kitchen where you were stood cradling a glass of water, eyes full of tears as you stared out the window.

“y/n? What’s up, kid?” Tim calls out to you softly, not missing how you jumped at the sound of his voice before you turned to face him.

“I’m fine.” You try weakly, quickly lifting a free hand to wipe at the unfallen tears.

“Somehow I’m not convinced,” Tim says, a soft joking tone to his voice as he approaches you slowly.

“I just needed a glass of water, I promise I’m okay, Tim.” You try again and this time Tim shakes his head, knowing you weren’t okay.

“You can tell me what’s wrong. I promise I won’t be upset.” Tim says, standing opposite you and watching you carefully.

“Can we talk in my room?” You ask quietly, glancing over your shoulder and watching the window carefully as a sense of unease settles into your body.

“Of course. You head to your room with Kojo and I’ll be right behind you.” Tim says reassuringly, picking up on your nervousness and taking the appropriate action. You nod quietly, heading to your room with Kojo by your side while Tim stays behind, flicking all the lights off as he makes his way to your room before entering your room, finding you sat on your bed with Kojo practically curled up on your lap as you stroked him softly.

“Hey.” You say quietly as Tim pulls out your desk chair, pulling it alongside your bed and sitting on it, regarding you softly.

“What’s up, kid?” Tim asks as your focus drops to Kojo, a small smile appearing on your face as Kojo lets out a small huff of appreciation as you stroke him.

“Promise you won’t think it’s stupid?” You ask quietly, briefly looking up at Tim before focusing back on Kojo.

“I promise I won’t think it’s stupid. Whatever it is, it’s got you shaken up pretty bad.” Tim assures you softly, letting you know there would be no judgement.

“I keep thinking I can see my uncle everywhere I go. I think I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye and then I’m anxious for the rest of the day. I’m constantly checking the news to see if he escaped and I’m terrified that he’ll get out and if he does, he knows where I live. I keep having nightmares about what happened a few weeks ago. And I’m terrified he’s going to do it again.” You explain, tears welling in your eyes as Tim’s expression softens.

“He’s not going to get out. And in the very rare event that he does, he’d have to be prepared to get through almost all of the LAPD before he could hurt a hair on your head. I can promise you that.” Tim says, his voice never wavering as you reach up to wipe more unfallen tears from your eyes. At Tim’s words, you nod lightly, still not completely at ease but you found comfort in Tim’s willingness to protect you.

“You’d really get the LAPD to protect me if he got out?” You ask quietly as Tim nods.

“There isn’t one thing I wouldn’t do to protect you. I’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” Tim says, watching you as you smile despite your tears, carefully moving Kojo off your lap so you can embrace Tim who is of course quick to accept the hug, holding you close as he feels you relax.

“Thank you, Dad.” You whisper gratefully, burying your face in his shoulder.

“No need to thank me, y/n/n. I’ve got you.” Tim says softly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before releasing you from the hug, watching as you sit back on your bed, giggling as Kojo sits up and takes the opportunity to lick your cheek.

“I’ll let you get some more rest. But if you’re still anxious and need me don’t be afraid to wake me up. Or send Kojo to do it for you.” Tim says, petting Kojo as he stands from your chair, putting it back behind your desk as you get back into your bed. Once you’re under the covers, you say one last goodnight to Tim before lying down as he leaves your room, leaving you to fall into a comforting sleep, knowing that Tim would move heaven and earth to keep you safe and that you’d be protected no matter what.

taglist (comment or ask to be added):

@starlightandsouls @whirlwind2005

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #unexpected bond universe #the rookie #the rookie abc #the rookie fic #the rookie fanfic #tim bradford #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford fic #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x teen!reader #x teen!reader

251 notes · View notes

probably-writing-x · 4 months

Text

Better For You

Spencer White x Reader

Summary: You knew Spencer outside of his ‘Spider’ persona. You knew the boy he was outside of the school crowd. But when the two worlds collide, will you see him for who he actually is?

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of spiking, cursing

———

“Spencer White?” You glance up from the diary in front of you, “Starting today?”

The tall boy in front of you clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, “Yeah, yeah, that’s me. You can call me Spider.”

You scrunch your nose at his request, “Yeah I’m not gonna do that.”

He scoffs, “Alright, and what do I call you?”

“(Y/n),” You respond, “It’s just us two today so I can show you the ropes.”

“Can’t be that hard right? Sell people tickets, serve popcorn, pour a few drinks?”

You stare at him with a black expression, evidently unimpressed.

He looks down at his feet and then back up to you, “Okay, where do I start?”

Spencer was about the same age as you, you assumed. Your boss had said he came across as ‘confident and enthusiastic’ in his interview but both of those things seemed a little uncertain now.

You’d been working at the movie theater for nearly a year now, your uncle knew the manager so you’d been a shoo in from the moment you were old enough to work. It was long hours, late days, annoying customers, but it earned you money and that was all it needed to do.

“Let’s start with popcorn.”

———

That was two months ago now. You now spent nearly every shift with Spencer. He made the long nights feel like they ended earlier. He snuck you free food, dealt with the annoying customers for you, sped around the screens quicker than you so you didn’t have to do as much cleaning. He took extra hours so he could work when you worked.

You’d learnt in that two months that he was working here after an argument with his mum where she told him he’d never worked a day in his life. He’d taken this job to prove her wrong. That was on one of your late night shifts after a midnight screening. It was just the two of you and he was evidently down, evidently in need of someone to talk to. He’d opened up to you. You’d told him that you were sorry, though you weren’t exactly sure what for. He’d laughed and told you that if his Mum saw him like this she’d tell him this wasn’t work.

He drove you home that night, same as every night. And he thanked you before you got out of the car. He didn’t tell you what for, just said ‘thank you”. He needed it more than you did.

Now, he had your number and you had his. And you texted when you weren’t at work together. He sent you songs he thought you’d like, mainly from rock bands he’d heard at a concert that weekend. You sent him films he should watch and he forced himself to watch them, giving you a running commentary with text updates every few minutes.

You spoke to him more than you spoke to your other friends. You told him things before you told them nowadays too. But you two never saw each other outside of work. Separate schools, separate lives.

“Here,” You hand him over a stack of medium cups to add to the supplies at the counter.

Spencer takes them from you, loading them up onto the pyramid of cups you’d been making. It was a quiet day.

“You know if these fall you’re picking them up,” You comment, handing him another two cups.

Spencer adds them too and steps back with his hands raised as if he’s going to catch it, “Yeah, yeah, I figured.”

You grin, both of you admiring your handiwork.

“So,” He steps back to lean against the machine behind him, “I had a question.”

“A question,” You repeat, “Mysterious.”

“I know we’re not working on Saturday. My mates are having a party at the weekend, it’s stupid really, like this graveyard thing,” He shakes his head, “I was just… would you… would you want to come?”

You frown a little, as if taken aback but not wanting to admit it, “Are you…”

“You don’t have to, it’s a stupid idea really, I don’t know why we-“

“Yeah, I’ll come,” You nod, “I’m not here, so I’ve got nothing else to do.”

He smiles, “Alright, well then it’s a date.”

“Is it?” You cock a brow, folding your arms over your chest.

“I-“ His cheeks turn a dark shade of pink, “Shut up.”

Spencer rolls his eyes and steps forward, collapsing down the pyramid of cups into stacks in front of him.

———

Spencer texts you the location and you walk there as the sun’s going down - a little later than he’d suggested so you didn’t look awkward and eager.

It’s eerie when you think of it - a clearing in a graveyard converted into a party location. There’s already a crowd building, a mismatched stack of alcohol at one side and a littering of people you didn’t recognise mingling around.

Why had you agreed to come? You didn’t know a single soul here beyond Spencer. And surely he had other friends he’d want to see? The thoughts of turning around and pretending to have never arrived start coursing through your head. Your feet come to a stop, as if you’re preparing to disappear back into the surroundings.

“There you are!”

And there he is.

Through the crowd, you spot the familiar sight of that blonde floppy hair. The way his face curls up into that signature smile. He’s holding a red solo cup in each of his hands, extending them wide as if hugging you through the air.

“Was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“Yeah, I’m still not sure about the whole… graveyard thing.”

Spencer laughs, “Yeah you just need to drink enough so you don’t think about it.”

He hands one of the cups to you and you take a sip.

“Careful, they’re probably spiked,” A girl walks past the two of you, eying Spencer with evident disgust.

She’s got dark short hair and a brightly coloured jacket with a black dress and she looks at you as if shes worried about you.

“Fuck off Amerie,” Spencer snaps, rolling his eyes at her.

You glance up at him and back to her and she offers you a small smile like she’s trying to warn you of something. She walks off over to another group of people and Spencer turns back to you.

“What was tha-“

“Come on, I want to introduce you to some people,” He places a hand gently on the middle of your back as if guiding you through the crowd.

There’s a group of boys over the other side, shouting loudly at each other and making vulgar gestures to go alongside whatever conversation they were having.

“Oi dickheads,” Spencer calls over, “Be normal for a minute, ay?”

The boys stop and turn around, both of them looking at you and then back to their friend.

“This is (Y/n),” He looks down at you and then back to them.

“(Y/n)!” One of the boys grins widely, “We’ve heard a lot about you. You moved in by Spider right?”

“Wh-“

“This is Ant, and that’s Dusty,” Spencer gestures between the two of them before you can say anything else.

“Nice to meet you,” You smile softly, “You know Spencer from school?”

“Yeah, basically since we could walk,” Dusty smiles at you, “We can tell you all the gory details.”

“Alright, alright, I’m right here,” Spencer shakes his head, standing close enough to you that his side is against yours, his arm still placed on your back.

He’s got that way about him. The feeling that you could just melt into his connection. You couldn’t explain it, but in a crowd of people you didn’t know, you were glad he was still beside you.

———

“So how does the dunny situation work here?”

Spencer turns to you and laughs, the two of you now at the edge of the party as people had started dancing in the middle. It was dark now, and you were stood just inches closer to Spencer to make the most of his radiating warmth.

“You find a spot where nobody can see you, and you put in some squat training,” He smiles, the kind of smile that creases his eyes.

“Oh how glamorous,” You wiggle your brows, placing your cup into his hand, “I’ll be right back.”

His fingertips linger on yours as your hand pulls away from his, his eyes lingering on you for even longer as you walk away.

You trail out away from the crowd and down a small path away from any prying eyes until you bump into the sound of giggling girls just ahead of you.

“Oh shit, sorry, I was just looking for somewhere to piss,” You clear your throat.

“Hey, wait, wait, wait,” One of the girls looks over to you, “You’re the girl that Spider was with right?”

It was the girl from earlier. The one Spencer had told to fuck off.

“Yeah, I’m (Y/n),” You offer a smile.

The girl’s friend stands up and zips up her trousers, both of them walking closer to you.

“I don’t want to sound like a cunt, but just be careful with him,” The girl, Amerie says.

“Am,” The other girl hits her arm, “You’re going to scare the poor girl.”

You look at her and fold your arms around you as if shrinking away from them, evidently uncomfortable.

“He’s just…” The other girl begins, “Very outspoken. He’s not exactly the nicest guy at Hartley.”

“He’s a grade A cunt,” Amerie adds, “And you seem like way too good for him.”

“Alright, we’re gonna go before Amerie says anything worse,” The other girl confirms, “Have a good night yeah?”

They both walk past you and you stand stuck in your spot, repeating over everything they had said. Spencer had been the nicest boy ever since you’d known him. He was thoughtful and funny and he was who you looked forward to seeing every shift. But everyone here seemed to be talking about a different boy when it came to him. To the girls, he was like the worst guy they’d known. And why had he lied to the boys about how he knew you?

“(Y/n)?”

You turn in your spot to see him stood behind you, far enough away that you can only make out his silhouette in the dark.

“You’d been a while, I was just making sure you were okay,” He speaks so softly you feel your heart skip a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” You clear your throat, walking towards him.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Spencer offers, “I reckon the coppers will be here soon.”

“Yeah,” You smile at him lightly, “I’ll probably book an Uber-“

He holds his cup out towards you, “I’m not drinking. I’ll drive you home.”

Spencer tugs his jacket off from his shoulder and places it around yours his hand slipping down beside your arm until his hand is hovering beside yours. You interlock your hand with his and he smiles once more, like he’s relieved at the contact.

———

The drive back isn’t far, and the empty roads make it even quicker. Spencer still indicates every time he needs to, drives the limit rather than anything over, glances at you every so often to make sure you were okay in the passenger seat.

He pulls up in front of your house and shuts off the engine.

“So, will you be rushing back to a graveyard party any time soon?” He leans his head back against the headrest and turns it towards you.

“I think I’ll stick to the beach or a house party for now,” You nod, running your hands over the cold skin of your thighs.

Spencer laughs, “Yeah I-“

“Can I ask you something?” You interject, the thought practically spilling from your mind.

He frowns, nodding slightly.

“Why did the boys think I was your neighbour? Did you not tell them we worked together?”

Spencer swallows the lump in his throat, “I didn’t tell them about the job.”

You furrow your brows, “Is working at a movie theater really that bad?”

He lets out a deep breath, “It’s not that.”

There’s a stillness in the air between you. That sort of tension that he always managed to dissipate. He’s calm and yet the air seems to be full of all the nerves he could muster in your presence.

“I don’t really talk to them about anything with my Mum, or home, or anything. And I guess I figured if they knew about the job they’d start asking questions and it’s just… not something I tell people.”

“You told me.”

Spencer chuckles a little, “You’re easier to talk to.”

You smile at him and the tension in his shoulders seems to relax a little, “I guess I can pretend to be your neighbour next time.”

“Next time?” He raises his brows, “So you did like the graveyard.”

You laugh, your gaze averting to the darkness looming over your house, not a single light on.

“So, my parents are away,” You say quietly, like you’re now the one holding all of the nervous energy, “Do you want to… I mean you could…”

“Yeah.”

You laugh, unsure at what point in your time knowing him had it become so easy for Spencer to make you nervous.

———

He sits at the end of the bed whilst you get ready in the bathroom. You take off your makeup, wash your face, tie back your hair and change into your pyjamas. They were one of the cuter sets you owned - different to the normal baggy t-shirt you’d wear. But if there was ever a time to wear a nicer set, it was whilst Spencer would be the one you were sharing a bed with.

When you walk back in, he looks up from the book he had in his hands - one he’d taken from your nightstand.

“Didn’t think that would be your kind of thing,” You nod towards it, walking over to your side of the bed.

“Too many big words,” He smiles, setting it back down and shuffling backwards on the bed.

He was wearing only his t-shirt and boxers now - his other clothes folded in a pile on the chair in front of your vanity.

“Okay we’ve got a problem here,” You comment, looking down at him.

“What’s that?” He asks, swinging his legs around so that he’s sat at the side of the bed facing you, his knees bumping against your legs.

“This is my side of the bed,” You mention.

“Oh is it?” Spencer cocks a brow at you and you hum in response.

His hands reach out and gently brush the skin of your thigh, trailing upwards towards your waist as if drawing you towards him. You let him guide you, shifting until you are straddling his lap. Neither of you speak, Spencer’s hand moving around to hold your back, one remaining on your waist. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes focused on his like you’re seeking that comfort.

“Can I kiss you?” Spencer whispers, the words seeming to tumble from his lips.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, “Yes.”

The corners of his mouth upturn just slightly, his eyes flicking between your eyes and your lips. And then, he closes the gap just enough. His lips press against yours, soft and cautious but somehow so certain of themselves. His hand moves to cup your jaw, drawing more of you to him as his fingertips tangle into your hair. When he pulls away, his lips curl into a smile, forehead pressing against yours.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do that,” He whispers, as if not wanting anything else to ruin the moment.

You laugh, leaning into him, “This is still my side.”

Spencer chuckles, holding one arm tightly around his waist to shuffle you both back across the mattress. He shifts to lay you down on one side of the bed before settling down on the side beside you, his arm outstretched to pull you into his chest. You can feel his heart beating against your ear and you’re relieved for a second he is sharing in the same adrenaline that you are.

His fingertips trail up and down your arm, the most delicate touch he could muster.

“I’m sorry I lied to the boys about you,” He speaks the words quietly into the air of the room.

You tilt your head upwards just enough that you can see his face, “We already spoke about this, you don’t have to-“

“Yeah but I didn’t apologise properly and I should do,” He nods, “It shouldn’t be your problem to have to lie to them too.”

“Would it really be so bad if they knew you had a job?”

Spencer shakes his head, tucking his other arm beneath his head on the pillow, “No, it wouldn’t. I just don’t like the thought of them knowing everything that goes on at home. It’s easier to go into school and act like none of that exists.”

You lean up onto your elbows and turn to face him, reaching up a hand to run through the hair falling at the side of his forehead, “Would it not be easier if you could talk to them about it?”

He wraps an arm around your waist, his eyes flitting between each of yours, “I don’t think I’d even know what to say.”

Spencer leans up just enough to kiss you again, gentle and fleeting.

He pulls you back down to his chest and tugs the blanket up over both of you. The pair of you stay there, like that in each other’s arms, until his breath starts to even out and he falls asleep - though, even then, his arms don’t loosen from around you.

———

Spider is back at school on Monday morning. He’d spent all of Sunday with you - waking up at your house, driving you both to work, and then taking you to dinner afterwards. It was the first time he’d ever woken up and instantly wanted to text someone, sending you a quick ‘good morning’ along with his complaints for not wanting to go to school today. He felt like a child with his first crush. Though, when he thought about it, maybe this was the first proper crush he’d had. No other girl had made him feel like this. And he’d savour it for as long as he could.

“Oi dickhead, are you listening?” Dusty interrupts his thoughts, the two of them walking towards the locker room to get changed.

“No,” Spider shrugs, “Do I need to be?”

“You missed a killer end to the party man,” Dusty points out, pushing the door open to where the rest of the boys already were, “I can’t believe you left early.”

“Oh come on I think Spider had other things on his mind,” Ant points out as soon as he overhears the conversation.

“Yeah who the fuck was that chick?”

“Does it matter? Either way Spider was going to fu-“

“Cut it out,” Spider snaps, to nobody in particular, just hoping for anything that would stop the topic of conversation.

“Aww is Spider precious about his latest conquest?” Ant frowns, “You’ll be onto the next one by this weekend.”

“Have you ever just thought of shutting up Ant?” Spider questions, reaching down to tie the laces of his trainers, “I mean, seriously, is it so hard to think (Y/n) might just be a good person? Someone I actually like hanging out with?”

“I don’t think that’s what they’re doubting,” It’s Malakai that speaks this time.

Spider looks at him, uncertain.

“If she’s a decent person, the last guy she should be around is you.”

For a moment, he feels the silence around him. The same tightness in his chest that he got at every dinner with his Mum. The same voice in his head telling him it was impossible for him to be good.

“Well,” He clears his throat, standing up from the bench, “Good thing I don’t need to listen to you cunts.”

When he walks out onto the field, the girls are already crowded around in conversations with each other. Spider walks over, crossing towards the opposite side of the field.

“Oi Spider!”

It’s Amerie that yells after him. He turns around to see her and Harper making their way over.

“You know we told that girl from the party to stay away from you,” Amerie states strongly, offering him her most judgemental look.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You might be able to put on an act for her but she deserves to know how shitty you are.”

“Are you kidding?” Spider scoffs, “You don’t even know her, why’s it your place to say anything?”

“We don’t know her,” Amerie shrugs, “But we know you. And no girl deserves that.”

He glances around at the rest of the people on the field, across to where the boys have just started filtering outside too. Not a single person here thought well of him. Even the boys, his friends, they saw him as the boy that said what they wouldn’t say. He was funny to them before he was good. He was someone to laugh at before he’d ever be someone to talk to. He’d become a show piece at this school. The controversial one that said what nobody else would.

“Ever thought that I might want to be a decent guy? That if I actually liked someone it’s genuine?” Spider shrugs, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Oh fuck off Spider, are you even capable of that?”

“Maybe.”

———

You’d been on Spider’s mind for the whole day. And, as soon as the final bell rang, all he could think of was getting to you.

It’s not a far drive, just the other side of town. But he speeds as if it’s some sort of last ditch attempt to get to you. He hadn’t thought to text, or ask where you were, or ask if you were free. He just knew he needed to get to you. And when he pulls up in front of your house, he realises this is as far as his thoughts had taken him, he wasn’t sure what that meant now.

He knocks on the door, harshly as if he’s channeling his nerves into the sound.

It’s not you on the other side. Instead, an older woman, bearing some resemblance to you in the brightness of her eyes.

“Hi, can I help you?” Her brows furrow but she smiles at him welcomingly, warmly.

“Um-“ He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, “I just-“

“Are you (Y/n)’s friend?”

Before he can respond, you come up behind the woman and grasp her shoulders, “I’ve got this one Mum.”

You glance to Spencer and smile, instantly relaxing the tension in his shoulders.

“It was nice to meet you,” Your Mum nods to him, turning to you and giving you some sort of knowing smile as if exchanging silent words.

You step out of the front door and pull it almost-closed behind you;

“What are you doing here Spencer?”

“You didn’t tell me what the girls said to you at the party.”

“I-“ You wrap your arms over your chest as a breeze courses past both of you, “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Didn’t matter?” He half laughs, his shoulders dropping, “They practically told you to get as far away from me as you could.”

“Yeah. And that doesn’t mean I believed them.”

Spencer smiles at you just a little, but it falters quickly.

“Why do they hate you so much Spencer?”

He pauses, taking a deep breath as he looks at you like even the sight of you is enough to calm down all of the worry coursing through him.

“My whole life it’s just been me and my Mum. I didn’t have siblings, my Dad was never in the picture. And so I had this one person left that was meant to love me. You know? That was her job, right? She’s my Mum, she just needs to love me and we’d figure the rest out. My Mum treats me every day like I’m the worst guy on the planet. I’m a guy and she thinks that’s enough for me to be someone she should hate. To her, I’m destructive and thoughtless and I have all this potential do a world of wrong. She reminds me of that every day, with everything I do. She’s reminded me of it so much that I started to believe it. That’s the guy I am to them at school. That’s the guy they know. And I’d hate me too if I was them.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat, wanting to reach out for him and tell him everything he needed to hear. To heal all those years of hurt that sat on those young shoulders.

“I don’t want to be that guy when I’m with you.”

You feel it then. The way your heart skips a beat once more.

“I want to be better.”

Your face breaks into a small smile, an instinctive response.

“I believe you,” You practically whisper the words, “Everyone else might have a lot to say about you but I know the person that you are with me.”

You step forward towards him.

“And I don’t think that guys so bad.”

You watch as he visibly relaxes, grasping out for you as soon as you are within reach, his hands snaking around to your waist. Your hands move up to his chest, linking around the back of his neck.

“You deserve a chance to be better Spider,” You smile, reaching up onto the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his lips.

He hums against the contact, pulling away to say, “I prefer Spencer.”

You chuckle and he wraps his arms tighter around you, burying his head into the crook of your neck. He breathes in the scent of you in his arms, feeling his heart slow in your hold. He’s sure he could stay there forever. And you’re sure that you would let him.

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lololololchips · 3 months

Text

Kim Mingyu || in which love lingers…

synopsis: in which love lingers even after their relationship reaches its end. Mingyu discover that his enduring love and care for his ex will always remain, even if she has now found happiness in a new relationship…

genre: one shot smau, fake texts, fluff, angst, non!idol, lovers to strangers (?)

warnings: fem reader, cursing, mention of alcohol/being intoxicated

a/n: hiiiii i am very happy and excited to announce that this is my first collab!!! soooo allow me to introduce the amazing, talented, and great person that completed this smau @spamgyu !!!!! ces completely ruined me with her opinion on ex!mingyu to the point that it made me want to do an smau on the topic so here it is:)) the amazing writing portion that she did is towards the end so make sure not to skip over it and read it!!! also go show her support on all her great work, she’s gonna make u suffer and cry BUT HEY THATS OKAY🙈🙈 once again i’m truly so happy to have worked with ces so ENJOY WHAT WE PUT TOGETHER HEHE<333

Taking the final bite of his shave ice, Mingyu couldn't help but let out a pitiful chuckle as the cold treat made contact with his tongue - he had gone mad.

He had always wanted to visit the tropical island, looking forward to crossing off all the sights he had on his four year old list in his notes app.

Only difference was, it wasn't meant to just be him completing this list.

You were supposed to be there.

You were the one that had come up and done research for all the places he had paid a visit to.

From the small surf town up north to the local eateries, Mingyu couldn't quite find himself to enjoy the experience fully - knowing that there was something missing.

You.

It had been three years since the two of you had separated, both coming to terms with the end and moving on with your lives. It had been months since he had even thought of you - as a romantic partner, at least.

What was meant to be a birthday trip had turned to somewhat of a trip to tie up all the loose ends he never did seem to get to - nor was he aware had been undone.

This place was supposed to be for you two.

Mingyu knew it was stupid; relating every activity he had been doing back to you instead of fully enjoying the trip.

He was supposed to have moved on; and he has!

But why did his stomach feel like it was constantly sinking? Why did his heart feel as empty as it did the first day he had experienced a life without you?

With each picture he snapped, he found himself mumbling how much you would have loved the place.

It was everything you two had dreamed of, maybe even more.

You always did like the ocean - remembering the first time the two of you had spent at the beach together.

He could remember the smile on your face that day, almost as if it was just a week ago.

He could remember the sweet smell of coconut shampoo that lingered in your hair, wafting into his nose as the wind blew.

He could remember the sunkissed glow on your cheeks as the sun beat down on the two of you.

Would it have been the same if you had made it to the Hawaii trip with him?

Would you still have been using the same shampoo?

Would you still allow him to playfully drag you into the water - pretending as if you didn't want to wet your hair in the cold ocean water?

Probably not.

Time has passed, there was no way you were the same person - just as he wasn't that same foolish boy that he was when he was wrapped around your fingers.

You were most likely using a different shampoo now.

And you probably would have jumped into the ocean first.

He wanted to text you; send you all the images he took, update you that Matsumoto Shave Ice was as delicious as you imagined it be, tell you all about what he had been up to.

You probably wouldn't even care - at least, not like you did before.

You would simply reply casually, just like your other mutual friends.

Letting out a sigh, Mingyu tossed out the now empty cup - shaking his head to try and shake away the thoughts of you.

"I'm a fucking idiot." He scoffed, rereading the word vomit that he had spilled to you just a few minutes ago over text.

You two had been cordial, friends even - and now, that could possibly go down the drain.

All because of this stupid thing called nostalgia.

He had allowed for the emotional tie that the island had to overpower his coherent thoughts - typing all that he had felt the duration of his trip into the messaging app.

Mingyu knew he had to get it out, he had to let you know - he felt as though his chest would burst if he didn't. He had done so well holding back for the past few days, simply talking to you in his head.

But he heard it, someone had played the song the two of you had jokingly dedicated to each other after the break-up - and almost as if his younger self had possessed his body, he opened the messaging app and went on to spill all that his brain had been bothering him with.

His younger self missed you; gravely.

But not the you that was now, no - he didn't know who she is.

She is a stranger.

She may look familiar, having the same features that had once had him so weak in the knees - but she no longer felt like the home he once resided in.

He no longer knew the address to this home, nor does he think it has it's light on for him anymore.

Even if his kept the porch light on; just in case you needed to seek shelter in the darkest of nights.

It will always be on.

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netherfeildren · 11 months

Text

Pink : Part III : Two

Series Masterlist : Part I : Part II

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Content Warnings: Heavy angst; DD/lg dynamics; Dom/sub undertones; Daddy Kink; Jealousy; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Inappropriate shaving; Squirting; Belly bulge; Dirty talk; Orgasm delay/denial; Overstimulation; Face slapping; Spanking; Light degradation; Rough sex; Breeding kink; Divorce; Not safe to read if triggered by pregnancy; Use of misogynistic language; Discussions of mental and emotional abuse; Cliffhanger

A/N: All tags have been updated.

Word Count: 12.7K

Rating: Explicit 18+

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

3. Two

“You know that feeling of… of realizing you’re a good person? It’s like– yes, I know objectively that I probably am. That I try to be kind, I try to do things that are good and right, but you know those strangely self perceptive moments where another person makes you – forces you – to realize you’re good? And it brings your whole life, your whole self into clarity, and it’s like – I am good, and I deserve good things. I am good.

But he treated me so badly, for so long. He took away pieces of me, he took away that awareness of goodness. And how could I not believe him, when he constantly told me and showed me that I deserved so little, when it was what I accepted for myself? Constantly waiting for him to turn into a man he never was, never had been and never would be. I accepted those things for myself, I let them happen. Maybe I was weak or stupid or naive or all of them combined. Maybe I was just a girl. But I thought it was hope at the time. I thought I was being hopeful and good, and now I realize that was no true form of goodness. It was only the version of good he needed me to be, a subservient and silent type of goodness.”

“And you know, I had a neighbor who– her husband died last year at Christmas, and it was so sad. They were older, always together, it was… it has nothing to do with this, but I don’t know. It was like when a tragedy is soft and quiet, and it just folds into the rest of life unheeded. Such a strange thing for someone on the outside looking in. I lived next door to them, and I’d see them all the time living their lives together, and I barely knew them, but suddenly he was gone, and I was conscious of the fact that she was over there alone all the time now. Without him. When before he’d always been there. I don’t know what I'm trying to say. It’s just that it didn't happen to me, it affected me in no way, and yet, I felt her loss keenly. Afterwards, I helped her with her cat, an old skinny thing, Jazz. She started going out of town a lot after her husband died, getting out and away, you know, that sort of thing. And I’d cat sit for her, and he was so sweet. But he was old too, and a few months later, he died also. And I remember the week he was going to pass she’d texted me and said he’d go soon, and I told her I was praying for him, thinking of the both of them. I don’t even pray, but I needed to tell her I was with her in some way. And it was nothing, a few nights going over there to feed the old boy, a few text messages. It was the absolute bare minimum I could do, but a few weeks after the cat died, she wrote me the loveliest note. She told me that she appreciated me, that she thought of how kind I’d been during those days, when I’d told her I was thinking of them. She told me that I was a good person, and that she hoped my kindness was returned to me many times over.

And I’d forgotten, you see, I'd forgotten that I was good. That I had a capacity for goodness within me, and that I deserved to be reminded of it, like all soft creatures are. We all need reassurance and a kind word sometimes, and I’d forgotten that about myself.” You glance up at his eyes, the most tender look held in them. “Do you know what I mean, Joel?” You ask, voice very small, shy and afraid, for one moment, that he won’t understand you.

But he pets your hair, cradles your cheek, “Yeah, honey. I think I do know.”

It’s a terrifying ordeal, the way the two of you fold into each other in the weeks after that first night. And yet, unstoppable. You do try, and you’re sure he does, as well. The first few days, trying to stay away, not answering his calls, no texts because he says his fingers are too big, and he can’t work those tiny fuckin’ buttons, forcing yourself not to run back over there into his arms and his bed. But then he’s calling and calling and calling, begging, making it his turn to show up at your doorstep in the middle of the night, saying all the right things like, I haven’t been sleeping, and I need to see you, and I’m suffering, I’m suffering without you, touching you in all the right ways that should be wrong but aren’t. All baby, I hurt when I’m not inside this sweet pussy. He says you make him weak, and you tell him that the only weak thing here is you, and you don’t make it much of a struggle for him when you let him in your home, in your cunt, when all you can say is I miss you, I miss you, your cock, your hands, I can’t stop thinking about you. The two of you are one and the same in all the ways it counts. And he’s not your father-in-law anymore, a chameleon now in the form of the only man who’s ever understood you, wanted you, seen you as more, as a complexity.

He makes you wonder how you could have ever thought of yourself as anything like sexless when all he makes you is hungry and desperate and wet. Fucking everywhere you can, as often as you can, never being very careful, pulling out and counting your cycle and starting out with a condom but ripping it off halfway through because I just have to feel you – irresponsible bullshit. Not having your head screwed on tightly enough to even really care. He has you on his living room floor one afternoon, whole day gone away on his cock, and the two of you lay there for hours afterwards, bare limbs wrapped around each other, soft, wet cock tucked safely inside of you where he says it belongs. “How could you have not been angry?” You ask him because you can’t help yourself. Because you want him to teach you to be wise now that he’s shown you how to be good. “That he was kept from you? That you missed an entire lifetime of being a father? I never once saw you furious or resentful. How did you do it?”

“Don’t know,” he sighs. “Dunno… I– It was, kind of, the worst thing anyone’s ever done to me, truth be told, but I didn’t have a chance to compute, to sit in any sort of anger. He was right there all of a sudden, too full of anger to leave any left over for me, and he needed me so much. He needs me so much.” And you know he’s right, and there should be guilt now, gnawing at you, but there is really only jealousy. “And he– he…” A swallow, like you can read his mind, you know what he’ll say, already nodding. “And he hates me,” he whispers into the quiet of this lovely home he’s made for himself, his words mixing with the butter yellow ray of sunshine the two of you are lying in, slanting in through the big bay window. “He hates me, hates who I am. That it’s me he found when he came lookin’.” You have to cry for him then, maybe even for the both of them, maybe even for all three of you.

“Yes,” you choke, so full of sadness for the tragedy of it all. You can’t comfort him with a denial for you’re not a liar here with him. Protection like that isn’t necessary.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” He hugs you so tightly, “There’s no reason to cry.”

“I can’t help it,” And return the words he’d given you once when you’d so badly needed a kindness, “You deserve more.”

He’s quiet for a long time after that, and you know him well enough now that you can hear the gears of his mind working and turning, and that makes you even sadder, perhaps, the greatest tragedy of all, this knowing, and eventually he says: “And yet, he is the son I have.” And at the end of it all, you think you are all only yourselves, and nothing can really be done about that.

And you say you want to be wise like him, that it’s your next lesson, so perhaps you should hold your tongue instead of saying: “He only just got you back, and I’m taking you away from him again. Because that’s what I want – I want to take you away and keep you only for myself. I want you to be only mine and that makes me bad. I’m bad.” Your first lesson quashed beneath the fist of your greed for a man who isn’t for you, and who you shouldn’t want, and it’s wrong and maybe even sinful or disgusting or any and all the things that are always bad. None of that matters. He’s turned you into a real person now, none of the rest of it matters.

But he understands, because of course he does, because he always has. He grips your jaw in his hands, large, strong hands, hands made for taking care of things, and tells you, not so wise seeming anymore: “Sometimes I look at myself, and it’s like I'm two feet tall. Why didn’t I meet you sooner? First? How could I have been such a coward to not go out there and search for you? I should have known you were out there, I should have sensed it. How can a man be jealous of his own son?” He turns you over then, cock hard and thrusting again, kisses you full on the mouth, and it tastes like ownership, and says, “You could never be bad. No matter what you did. You’re only ever good. Haven’t I taught you that?”

“Joel, there’s someone at the door,” peeking into the restroom where he’s just stepped out of the shower, wet and steaming, shaking his head out like a dog, towel covering all the fun bits. He’d just had you too many times already, and still, you want more. You’re made of nothing but greed now; he’s taught you how to be good, but he’s also taught you how to be greedy. You’d been strewn across his couch, eating chips and wearing his clothes and leaking his come and waiting for him to finish in the shower and come out to make dinner. He was doing steaks on the grill and baked potatoes with all the fixings and roasted vegetables, and he’d even gotten a pie and ice cream, but he said he wasn’t telling you what the flavor was, only that it was your favorite, and you can’t think how he’d know you love rhubarb, but if that’s what he’s gotten, you were going to let him do anything to you. Literally anything he wanted. Not that you didn’t already… but still, it’s the sentiment that counts, you think. He’d also said you weren’t allowed to shower, that the rule tonight was that you weren’t allowed to wash him off, and you really didn’t mind that so much. So there you were, after he’d put on Stepmom for you, and you were just thinking that Julia Roberts was surely the most beautiful woman who’d ever been born, when someone had knocked on the door, a rhythmic, friendly: tap, tap, tap, that had your heart dropping down into your stomach, and you scurrying into the master bath to frantically tell him that someone is here while you’re here wearing him all over and inside of you and what are you going to do now? He gives you a calm smile, running the towel over his wet head, giving you an eyeful of the fun bits now, and you try and not peek, you really do, but it’s really just the most exciting part on him, you can’t help yourself. His smile turns knowing, that look in his eye, “S’alright, sweetheart. Don’t fret, I’ll get it.”

“But–” you try and protest, maybe he should just pretend not to be home. What if it’s– you can’t even think of it. But then no, he’d not come here. He hates coming to this house, the proof of everything he wasn’t all in his face like this was humiliating for your ex-husband.

His smile remains, but his eyes go a little stern, “No worryin’, I’ll take care of it.” He tugs on his jeans, the man literally never wears underwear, slut, and tugs on a shirt, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he passes you, hand dragging over your belly, smelling of soap and Joel and want, want, want. You follow him on tip toes down the hall, pausing at the mouth of the living room, chewing on your lip and your fingers, about to spit your heart out with nerves as he pulls the door open.

“Hi, Joel, honey. How’s it goin’?” Pretty, bubbly, overly friendly voice you were definitely not expecting. You take a small step forward, the mouth of the hall slightly to the left of the front door so that you can see her without her seeing you, watch his profile as he talks to her. Edie, he says, and that dishwasher givin’ you trouble again, and laughs at her reply, the sound of their conversation going out of your ears as you watch him, head falling sideways on your neck a little bit, the way he laughs at whatever the woman that’s come knocking on the door of his home all friendly and comfortable to interrupt his time with you is saying, loud, bellyfull, one arm braced against the doorframe so that you can see her eyes flit every few seconds to the thick bulge of muscle there. Your face goes hot, your insides green and bitter, but he’s laughing just handsomely enough that you know it’s not real. You know his real laugh, and it isn’t this one. The woman leans forward, blonde hair and big boobs and batting lashes, but Joel shifts backwards subtly, keeping a respectful distance, and your pulse throbs at the backs of your knees and the pit of your stomach. She likes him, she’s here because she likes him, asking him to look at her dishwasher or something, yeah, sure, sure that’s the only thing she wants looked at.

“I’ll come take a look at it tomorrow. How ‘bout that? I’m sure it’ll be another quick fix like last time, but you should probably think about just replacin’ the thing at this point,'' he tells her.

“Oh, can’t you now, Joel?” She pouts, “It’s just that–”

“I’m tied up tonight, Edie,” he cuts her off, an indulgent, too charming smile on his face, and oh, it pisses you off, that smile. You turn on your heel, stomping down the hall back to his bedroom. Huffing, gnashing your teeth. The sight of him with another woman, a more appropriate woman because of course she is, it makes you sick, angry, something terrible, so, so jealous your bones itch beneath the surface of your skin. It makes you small and slanted again, wrong place, wrong time, wrong girl. Not for him, never for him, and it’s so unfair, and he is so– so… Smiling at her like that, using that tone of voice, propping up his stupid huge arm like that so that his muscle’s all defined and put on display, and you hate him and the way he makes you feel and how much you want and need him. On the verge of tears or screaming or vomiting you scramble around his room, trying to collect your clothes and your strewn panties and where the fuck is your bra and your other shoe?

“What’re you doin’?” Comes his soft, steady voice a moment later. Entirely too even for the way you feel right now. You want to hiss at him or bite him or do something entirely uncivilized.

“I have to go home.”

“Why?”

“I have something to do. I forgot.”

“Something, what? What do you have to do?” But you ignore him, rifling through the strewn clothes on the armchair in the corner – where the hell is your goddamn bra? “Look at me–” he barks, now having stepped further into the bedroom.

“Oh, fuck off,” and there’s a part of you that knows that you’re being irrational, that he’s done nothing wrong, but you feel so provoked suddenly. In need of a fight or a thrashing or something, something to make this terrible feeling poisoning you on the inside go away.

“Watch your mouth, little girl,” and his voice is so calm and so quiet and so scary. It makes you lock up one second, spin around the next to spit and hiss at him like an angry cat. You will not watch your mouth. “She wants you.” You almost stomp your foot like a child throwing a fit, but he’s entirely still and silent, taking you in with the most unfathomable of looks. “Do you know that?” And this time you do stomp your foot. “Do you want her back?”

He blinks once, and then like a lightbulb turning on, even though you’re obvious as daylight, “You’re jealous.”

“Do you want her back?” You ask again, real tears in your voice this time.

And his gaze goes soft and tender and entirely understanding, “Never.” He shakes his head.

“She looked like a fucking idiot.” You pout, childish – how will he ever want you when you act like this?

“I only want you.” But you don’t believe him. How could you? When there’s nowhere for this to go. When he deserves so much more than the options afforded to him here between the two of you. And you want to fight with him because there’s nothing to be done, no choices, no other recourse, and it’s not his fault and there’s no one to blame and no outlet for this terrible anger inside of you. You feel like you’re choking on it, being swallowed whole, that head breaking water feeling reversed so that now you’re deep at the bottom of the well of your own wanting. You turn back to the fruitless search for your bra. He’s hidden it from you, you’re sure, some evil old man ploy to keep you here trapped and braless with him. “Did you hear me? I only want you,” he says again, voice closer now.

And you think you’re mumbling or crying, something hysterical bubbling up inside of you, I have to go, I have to go, your movements manic and jerking. He grips your arm, jerking you around into his chest, face flushed with anger now, but voice still even, “You’re not fucking listening to me. I only want you,” and yanks your hand to feel the hard cock trapped beneath the confines of his jeans. This is only for you. But it’s not, not in any real way, not in a way that would let you keep him and that realization sets something off inside of you. You thrash in his hold, let me go, let me go, trying to kick him in the shins while he tries to wrap his arms around your struggling form, that rumbling chant constant in your ear, I only want you, I only want you, I am only for you. It feels like he’s burrowing beneath your skin, unzipping you, splaying your insides wide open for his gaze, taking hold of your bones, a puppet on his string. You manage to yank your arm out from beneath his grip and unthinking, a buzzing so high pitched it makes you dizzy and nauseous sounding in your ears, you slap him in the face. Not very hard, maybe, but enough that you hear the crack of your palm meeting the grizzled scruff of his cheek. The sound like a bone snapping, setting off something inside both of you even worse, more frenzied than before. He groans deep in his chest, big hand fisting in your hair and jerking it back so hard you yelp in pain. “Hit me again, do it again. I want you any way I can have you, even angry. Do it again,” he goads you on, but that mindless hand is fisted in his shirtfront now, pulling you closer to him, tear stained mouth seeking his, opening to receive his filthy kiss.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, but all he says is that he only wants you, again and again, grips you harder, makes it hurt more, and you whine and whimper and scratch and bite, a wild thing, the two of you caught up in some strange struggle of push and pull and want and fight. You can feel the hard length of his cock grinding against your belly, searching for something hot and wet to fuck into, and you hitch your knee around his hip, open yourself to him, listen to his groan in your ear, throaty and full.

“You just need a little remindin’? Don’t you, huh?” He tugs your head back, none too gentle, to look at your tear slicked face, his eyes on fire, almost a little manic. He spins you away from him, shoving you towards the bed, ignoring your whines and protests, shut up and bend over, pushing you over the edge of the bed and crouching down behind you. “You just need a little remindin’ of how to be a good girl. I know that’s all this fightin’ is. Right, baby?” No, you try and struggle, kicking your leg out uselessly to the side, but he pins you with your arms back behind you at the small of your waist, pushing his shirt up your back to expose the naked curve of your ass and the pussy you know he’ll find humiliatingly wet and hungry for him. “Just need remindin’ of how to be a good girl for me, right?” His fingers slide down to the apex of your thighs, finding you dripping and swollen from his earlier use and your current desire, all twisted up and compounded ten fold with your jealousy.

“So wet already for me, baby,” he coos at you.

And oh, he’s so annoying, and you’re so embarrassing and weak for him. “Shut up, old man,” you whine. A single finger enters you slowly, rubbing up against all the terribly sensitive and swollen places inside of you, then pulls his wet fingers from you to deliver a single stinging swat to the curve of your ass, sticky wet imprint of yourself left behind.

“Yeah, and this old man fucks you better than anyone else,” he slips his fingers gently back inside of you, “Remember that you little whore,” he says even more gently. The words make you twist and writhe, a terrible flush of lust burning through you. He feels you tighten around his fingers, groans appreciatively. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He twists his fingers inside of you, pressing hard against something that makes you feel like you’re about to wet yourself. You cry out, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head, refusing to answer. “No lyin’. You daddy’s little whore?”

“Nuh uh,” you shake your head, your hips moving with the rhythm of his thrusting fingers. He brushes his thumb slowly over your pulsing clit, plays you like a game.

“No?” His voice is so soft, so teasing.

“I’m not your whore–”

“You’re not? Then what are you, baby? Tell me.”

You’re right there, so close, about to come on his fingers. “I'm your baby. I'm your baby. I’m yours– I belong to you, daddy.” He pulls his fingers from your cunt, hand coming to grip your ass cheek so hard it hurts, fingernails digging into your soft skin, dragging down the smooth surface. You can hear him panting behind you, shaking, trying to control himself. He makes a gruff, rough sound in his throat, gentles his grip on you.

“You don’t think I don’t get fucking jealous?” he spits when he’s finally managed to control himself. “You think I don't think about you with my own son and want to die? That he got to have you in a way I never will, and even worse, wasted you? You don’t think it makes me sick with envy?” He brings his fingers back to play in your wet folds, feels the slick drip of you, thrums at your clit, opening you to him with a hand on your cheek and licking you from clit to asshole. Running the flat expanse of his tongue over the length of your sex and then sucking hard at the apex of nerves, hard enough that you can’t tell if it hurts or feels good or a little bit of both. He’s got you bent over the end of his bed facing the dresser so that you have a clear view of the two of you in the mirror above it. And the sight of him, massive frame crouched down behind you, huge and hulking, face buried in your cunt from behind, the curved slope of his nose, the long, thick lashes, eyes closed like he’s enjoying himself more than he’s ever enjoyed anything else in his entire life as he licks your ass and sucks on your clit. He pulls back, and you watch, almost in slow motion, as he shocks you by swatting your entire sex with his big hand, and then immediately brings his face back to lick and kiss your smarting skin. “But he didn’t fuck you the way you needed to be fucked,” he continues. “And I do. He didn’t understand you, but I do. At least I have that.” It sounds like he’s consoling himself, and you can’t help but find consolation in it as well. Your eyes move up to your own reflection, sweat slicked and tear stained, eyes glassy, wet fingers inside of your mouth because you need something to chew on to stand the terrible throbbing in your cunt on the verge of coming. He licks you again, presses his tongue to your asshole. “Did you ever get wet for him like this?” He pulls back, runs the pads of his fingers over your clit in fast, hard up and down motions, makes it feel so good it hurts, you’re right there, you’re right there, pulls away. “Were you ever desperate for him like this? Cunt all drippy and swollen and pathetic for him like you are for me, my sweet baby?”

Never, daddy. Never. Only you. You can’t lie to him when he’s got his tongue inside of you, it’s just not possible. Only me. Only mine. You press up on your tippy toes, roll back down onto the balls of your feet, “Yeah, rub that sweet pussy all over daddy’s face,” he mumbles into your skin, slurps at you. He wraps his lips around your clit once more, sucks and licks and sucks again, and your cunt goes so, so tight, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, daddy, and then just stops. Pulls away entirely, gets to his feet, leaves you to throb and shiver and beg, whole body flashing hot and cold on the precipice of orgasm. Still holding you pinned in place with your wrists at the small of your back, you watch his eyes roam along your draped form, he drags his hand down the wet length of his face, wiping the drippiness of your slick away. “Stay just like that for me,” and his eyes move to yours in the mirror, as if he’s known the entire time just how riveted on him you’d been. “What?” He asks with a crooked brow and a mean little smirk. “You think you get to come? After that little display?”

“Don’t be mean,” you whisper, staying exactly as he’d directed. Trying your best to be a good girl.

“Shoulda thought of that before, sweet girl.” He bends over the length of you so you’re eye to eye now, gets his face right up close to yours and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “You wanna pretend to fight, stand there like an indignant little girl stomping your foot and yellin’ about bein’ jealous while my come runs down your thighs still. Obviously, I’m not doin’ a good enough job of remindin’ you you’re mine, how much I want you. Gonna fix that now.” Presses another soft kiss to your mouth now.

“You’re trying to dominate me,” you whine, struggling to press against his mouth again even as he pulls back out of your reach, plants a big palm between your shoulders to keep you still.

“You bet your fuckin’ ass I am. You’re gonna do what I tell you to when you’re letting me fill you with my come the way you are. And you’re gonna like it too. You get me?”

“Yes, daddy.”

But then he goes serious, that teasing glint in his eyes flickering away suddenly. “You have nothing to be jealous of. Ever. I don’t want anyone but you. I don’t care about anything else but this.” And even though you’re sure it must be a lie, it sounds so lovely, you choose to believe him for now. You nod up at him, sniffling and crying again a little bit. “And no one takes care of you like I do,” he finally says, as if it’s a reminder, a consolation to the both of you once again.

And he’s right, as he tells you to stay put, be a good girl and not move, leaves you there bent over the bed, that chant sounds in your mind, no one takes care of you like he does, no one, no one, no one.

He steps back into his bedroom to the sight of you still draped over the bed, big eyes wet and slightly vacant, pussy red and swollen and bared to him like a wound with his name on it. You’d brought your fingers up to your mouth, chewing on your fingernails the way you did sometimes when you were anxious or overwhelmed, and when your eyes flit to him, taking in the bowl of warm water, the washcloth and shaving cream in his hold, they go wide, shocked. He arranges his things, gripping you by the hips to turn you over, pulling his shirt from you, leaving you entirely naked, and settling between your spread thighs. “Wh– what are you doing?” Voice all breathy and hitched, the thrum of your excited pulse in your throat.

“Gonna shave you bare. Then I’m gonna eat you ‘til you’re crying, ‘til you’re so swollen you can barely take my fingers. After that, I’m gonna wedge my cock inside you and fuck you ‘til you’re so full’a my come you’ll remember not to forget you ain’t got no reason to be jealous ever again.” He strokes your curls gently with the pad of his thumb, something like fondness in the gesture, clicks his tongue. “These’re so pretty. Gonna miss ‘em.”

“Oh my god,” you choke when he drapes the water warmed washcloth over your spread pussy.

“You wanna be a brat, you wanna fight and act like you don’t know I belong to you and you to me? That none of that other shit matters– I’m gonna remind you, don’t worry.”

You crane your neck, pushing up on your elbows to watch him remove the washcloth and cover the soft curls of your groin with shaving cream. When he opens the blade and brings it to your skin, the sight of the straight edged blade against you, the smooth cream as the steel reveals the bare, satin soft skin beneath, has your chest heaving, sweat pooling at the little notch of your throat – fucking gorgeous and his.

“You’re going to be so sensitive, baby,” he murmurs as he bends your leg back and opened wide, splitting you for his gaze. Delicate with the movements of his wrist as he shaves you. “All bare and slick down here, just for me. You’re so swollen already.”

You mumble something, moaning and letting yourself flop back against the mattress, he’s quick to pull the blade from you, pausing his movements while you settle, gives you a second to press the balls of your palms into the sockets of your eyes, whining Joel and daddy and please. And the trust in this moment between the two of you, that you’re letting him wield a blade so close to your fragile center, letting him do this to you as a way to remind the both of you of the power you cede and wield over and to one another, something that gives him the opportunity to inflict his will in a way that recenters you, reminds you that you’re his, his to do with you as he will, and it’s just the two of you in this space and you trust each other implicitly, it has a sense of control swelling inside of Joel, making his cock rock hard in his jeans, leak down his thigh. Control in a way there is none of in everything else between the two of you. Control in a way there cannot exist in any other aspect of your relationship. When he’s finished, he cleans you slowly with a new warm, damp cloth, then goes to put away his supplies, and when he returns, he looms over you, taking in the sight of your little bald cunt now.

Slowly, he starts to pull his clothes off, watching the quick panting of your breathing, the dip and swell of your belly, so aroused by the intimacy you’ve just shared that your pupils are blown wide and dark. “You’ve made such a mess, little girl,” he says, dragging a single finger through your overflowing slit, following the slick from your swollen clit to your asshole where it pools beneath. He fingers your folds gently, avoiding your swollen clit, your little hole winking at him wantonly. “Please–” you whisper so softly, almost gasping for breath you can barely get the words out.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart. I know you need to come so bad, don’t you?” He drags his palms up and down your thighs, up to your waist and then tugs you down over the edge of the bed and onto your knees in front of him, wide eyes riveted hungry on his cock. “How does it feel? So sensitive, isn’t it?” He’s so hard his erection stands straight up towards his belly, balls hanging heavy and full and aching. He gently drags his fingers along your scalp, feels the heat emanating from your skull. “Lick it all over, get it nice and wet so I can put it inside you.” He knows he needs to be careful now. The two of you are wide open to each other in this moment, so on edge he could come just at the look in your eyes, and you, something more than just vulnerable. He’d worried briefly, in the past weeks, if he should stop, send you away, take himself away, tell you it was too much. You were getting too attached, and although he knew it was too late for himself, that he was beyond salvaging when it came to you, he could imagine nothing worse than seeing you come out hurt from this. Could also imagine no scenario in which you wouldn’t anymore. He feeds you his cock, fisted tightly at the root to stave off his impending orgasm, slides all the way to the back of your throat until he feels his tip hit resistance, enjoying the sight of you choking on it for just a second. Good girl. “Fuck– fuck, yes. See, see how good you can be for me?” He tells you as you suck on his tip, hollowing your cheeks and running your tongue all around the wide head, tonguing his foreskin, making him hiss and bear his teeth at you while you look up at him with falsely innocent eyes. He yanks you up and against him, gives you a filthy, wet kiss, all tongue and teeth and false control, swallowing down the taste of his own precum. He’s never felt less in control of himself, of a situation, than he does right now. He has, in these past weeks, entirely lost sight of himself, of what this should and should not have been, blindly led by his cock and his heart. He’s lost all control, and Joel is nothing but weakness and want now.

Turning you in his arms, he sits at the edge of the bed, thighs spread wide and pulls you onto his lap, impaling you back onto his spit-slick cock so swiftly he doesn't even think you’re expecting it until he’s bumping against your womb, your knees hooked and spread wide over his own. Too desperate to lick your cunt again the way he’d planned. You let out a long, shocked keen, back arching, trying to escape the too big cock suddenly shoved inside of your tiny hole. Joel has to grit his teeth, take deep breaths through his nose and out through his mouth before he can speak at the feel of you fluttering and pulsing around him, “The more you whine, the harder I’ll fuck you, got it?” There’s nothing even close to a coherent response coming out of your mouth, and he was right, shaved bare like this, you’re so much more sensitive. He pulls the lips of your sex gently apart around where he’s impaling you, takes in the sight of your little hole stretched obscenely around his fat cock in the mirror’s reflection and slowly starts to seesaw his hips back and forth, watching his glossy length disappear in and out of you. “How does it feel, baby? You’re so pretty, look at yourself.” He whispers into the small shell of your ear, presses a soft kiss to the lobe, tugs on it with his teeth. He slides in all the way, pulling your hips down so that his balls press against the curve of your ass. “Look, see where daddy’s so deep inside you – can see it in your belly.” Your head lolls back on his shoulder, gaze hooded and delirious, but your hand moves down to the soft skin of your stomach, gently cupping the outline of his cock inside of you. “I’m so deep inside of your tiny cunt, baby. Look at how you’re all mine–” He starts to move again, flicking at your clit, interchanging between fast and hard and slow and so soft you can barely feel it, and your face looks like you want to say something, tell him something, scream, but can’t. And there’s so much he’d like to tell you too, all the things you deserve and probably need to hear from him, but can’t either. He feels you start to tighten up on him, the heat in your body suddenly seeming to flush higher and brighter, almost to boiling, your cunt going so, so tight it almost pushes him out. He presses inside harder, holds you in place with one hand, and thrums fast and hard at your clit with the other, focusing the tip of his cock at the front wall of your pussy, “You’re gonna come–” he grunts, holds you in place and hammers into that swollen place inside of you he’d kill to own for the rest of his life. “Fuck– fuck, you’re gonna squirt all over my cock, aren’t you? Can feel it–” Your face spasms, your belly clenching hard and tight, and you gush, letting out a pained, animal sound, voice broken and breathless, wetting both of your thighs with your come, the bed covers beneath soaked dark. Joel doesn’t stop. He wants more, again, all of you, thrums again at your clit with the pads of his fingers, changes the angle of your hips to roll you fast and hard onto his come-slicked length, pinches your clit hard, watches you squirt all over him again. Something like the sound of his name leaves your mouth in a broken cry, your chewed raw nails trying to claw at him ineffectively. “Dirty fucking girl – creamin’ all over your daddy’s cock,” his voice is gruff, not entirely his own. There’s something here – you’d told him once you’d always felt out of control. In your relationship with Sam, aware of what he was, always, of what you were and were not, and that there was something about control that was so necessary to you now. And there is something here like control, your control over him, taking hold of him entirely so he’s unsure of what it is he should and should not be, here and now, with you. He should not be delusional, he should be aware. He is not adhering to either very well.

He goes to his feet with you still impaled on his throbbing length, erection so hard it hurts, can barely stand up straight, blood pounding on rhythm to the chant of your name. He pulls you from him, watches the slick slide of your cunt walls dragging along his length, the cream of your slick left as a reminder all over his skin. He presses you onto the bed, rolls you this way and that too look at you all over, bends to drag his tongue through that drippy cunt of yours that squirts and comes so prettily for him, then back up and kneeling above you, between your glossy thighs, and thrusting into that tight cunt, grunting as you clench around him. So hard he feels the screaming tip of his cock punch against your cervix, listens to you make a hurt, hiccupy sound when his balls slap against you.

He should be gentle. He should be careful. He should be aware, not delusional, himself. He should reach back and take hold of that man he always thought himself to be, hard and cold but never cruel. Maybe not good, but always aware and never weak. He’s none of those things now here with you. Joel is now only himself. You’ve made me into a real person, you’d whispered onto his tongue. What he’d not told you was that you’d done the same to him.

You’re a gift, a gift, a gift, a gift. A gift in the way his son never was. A gift in the way that a whole lifetime lost and returned to him never was, and Joel is weak and two feet tall and made of paper, but for you. Anyways, or despite it all, still made only for you.

“Fuck me like you’re in love with me,” you say, read his mind, take hold of the beating mass in his chest. Fuck me like you’re in love with me. And maybe you don’t mean it. Maybe you’re too far gone. It doesn’t matter.

He does it anyway. Pulls back, wedges back inside the too swollen, too sensitive, too tiny cunt that belongs to him. He bears his teeth at you, grabs hold of your face so hard you’ll bruise, and fucks you like he’s in love with you. It comes to him so easily, after all.

Shoving his knees high up beneath your thighs, he brings your ankles to his shoulders, little feet knocking against his ears, he wishes for sense, he finds none, only a deeper, sharper angle. The sounds of your cries and the things you whisper in his ear he knows you should not say and he should not listen to that fill him full of things he should not feel like I was made for you and daddy, there’s no one like you and come inside me, please, please, I need it. He pulls his hips back, swings them forward, listens to the sound of his balls slap, and you beg for harder, savors the fire that pools in his belly and the base of his spine. And he thinks that he should pull out, he’s been so fucking careless with you and your future and your vulnerability, but he’s like a monster full of greed, intent on nothing but staking his claim, leaving a claim, desperate for a way to be remembered or never forgotten or never left behind. “We have to be careful,” he begs you, and feels scared and terrible for a moment, not to be trusted with a gift like this in his hands. “I’m going to get you fucking pregnant, God.”

But you’re like some siren, something taking him away from himself, and you tell him, “I don’t care, I don’t care,” voice gone so far away from yourself too, all hazy, full of bubbles and too cock drunk to be true or sane, but it lands like a gut punch anyway. And Joel tries to hold onto himself he does, he swears he does, tries to remain rational, and aware of what this was supposed to be and not supposed to be. Tells you to please, “Shut up, shut up. Please, don’t say those things to me, I’m begging you.” But eventually that siren song wins out, the feel of your cunt sucking him deeper, milking him dry, your small damp hands pulling at his hair, stubby nails dragging down the skin of his cheeks, over his back, and Joel’s weak now. Weak and full of want and greed and delusion so that all that’s left is capitulation and: “You want daddy to fuck his babies into you? You want me to fill you up and keep you forever?” But something of himself must remain because he covers your mouth, big hand wrapped around your sweaty little face before you can answer, forcing the words silent inside of your mouth, the truth you both know you’d spit out otherwise. Yes, yes, I do. And as if the idea of you carrying his child held a direct like to your orgasm, you start to come around him, overwhelmed cunt, split in two and carved in the shape of his name now, clenching around him, going so wet and hot and tight Joel’s sure he’ll never be able to leave it ever again. You reach down between the two of you, grasp the half of his cock outside of your wet clutch, shiny with your slick and jack him off with sharp little tugs, make sure he fills you with his spend full to the brim. He spills over and out, dribbles down the slope of your ass to leave you lying in a little puddle of his semen, and when he pulls out, careful to not ask you to hold all of his weight over you, he brings your fingers to your gaping cunt, “Feel where daddy’s been,” lets you play in the imprint of himself he’s left behind.

He lays beside you, steaming hot little thing worming up against him, nuzzling beneath his chin, pressing tiny kisses that tell him all the things the both of you need to hear and say, and he feels himself go cool and dry inside and out. Something terrible suddenly swelling within him. Something that reeks of truth, and you must smell it in the air as well because you share a piece of your own painful honesty with him, force him to confront it. “Sometimes I think I’m impossible to love,” in the smallest voice he’s surely ever heard.

“Haven’t I shown you how untrue that is?” Because if there’s one thing he’ll never do with you, it’s lie.

You tuck your hand beneath your cheek, and you glow, and he feels blinded by it for a moment, eyes wide and so vulnerably tender, something afraid that makes something equally vulnerable inside of him rage and beat its chest. “Is that what this is? Are we in love, Joel?”

He thinks you must see the fear in his eyes, because yours suddenly go calm, fathomless, something steady for him to hold on to, and that stench of honesty chokes him. “Yeah–” he nods, swallows, thinks of his son, hates himself. “I think so, baby.”

What can remain the same after honesty like that? After splitting yourself open and showing each other your insides in such a way? What could possibly remain the same? Nothing. The truth is laid bare, and all that’s left now. And instead of setting you free, the truth never really sets you free, it makes everything terribly fraught and frightened and fragile.

When he moves to stand, the sound of your desperation for him to make you his in an irreversible way rings like exploding shrapnel in your ears, “Do you think we’re bad?” You ask because you’ve only ever wanted to be good, but his eyes are so haunted, large and round and fathomless. His face, taking on a sudden sort of gauntness as he thinks of what to say to you after the worst has already been said. You watch the line of his throat ripple as he swallows several times, reading the real truth in his eyes before he shakes his head slowly, incongruous like a lie, “Never you,” and he does not include himself, “Never you.” It’s devastating. Devastating that the only thing that’s ever mattered, the thing that has finally made you good, is bad in his eyes.

You sit at the kitchen table, watching him while he makes dinner for you. Cold and shivery and wet between your legs in a way that’s not comfortable anymore. In a way that feels like an essential part of you is slowly dripping out, leaving you grossly empty inside. The beautiful dinner he’d bought and made for you tastes like ash wrapped in all the honesty surrounding the two of you, and you stare at each other and there's no need for more words because the truth is all right here in front of the two of you to see with your own two eyes. You want to go get dressed, but you don’t want to call attention to the seed of wrongness that’s been planted now. Are we in love? When the answer had so obviously been yes for so long already. Naive, silly girl. And you want to be angry with him. Ask him why he’d done this to you, made you fall in love with him when he’d said before that you couldn’t, when it was all so hopeless. You also want to hear him say it, say the words out loud with teeth and tongue and sound, you want to taste the words in your mouth because seeing them in his eyes wrapped in all that hopelessness isn’t nearly enough to satiate this hunger he’s stoked inside of you. You want to ask him to hold you, to crawl into his lap and have him cradle you like a child protected in the embrace of stronger, wiser arms. You want to have never been put on this path, to have never met his son, never have married him, never have met him. You want the whole terrible ordeal to be wiped from mind and mouth and memory. You want to have not had to accept it all, not have moved on, not be grateful in ways you can’t even understand for the lesson it’d all posed. You want it all to have never happened. To never have experienced the entire convoluted mess of feelings this ordeal of tearing down your entire life to make yourself anew had caused. To have never fallen in love with your ex-husbands father.

He sits in his chair, hands cupping his chin for so long, silent and staring, probably wondering what to do with you, and when he finally stands, nothing but a long, pained sigh to interrupt the terrible silence, you finally muster the strength to go find that missing bra. Crawl home, once again a ghoul in the night in need of wound licking. And it must be that very same terrible silence, the even more terrible look in his eyes that has something pressurized, set to burst, bottled inside of you because when a knock on the door sounds once again, you don’t even stop for half a thought, exploding suddenly. In his clothes and come, ripping the door open, the words on your tongue ready to spit at her that he’s already got one desperate woman on his hands that needs taking care of, and no, he will not be fixing her dishwasher or her pussy or anything else she thinks she might need him for.

But it’s not the neighbor. And you have nothing but fear lodged in your throat to spit out when you meet his eyes.

Eyes like his father’s, colder, crueler, furious and humiliated, take you in. Just fucked hair and a flannel that’s not your own, mis-buttoned, come-dryed thighs. And worst of all, his voice, like he isn’t even that surprised, like he’d come here just to find this, “You fucking whore.”

“Sam–” you’re not sure if you actually say his name, but the intention is held there, on the tip of your tongue. A plea for mercy or a shout for help or protection or something.

“You fucking whore,” and you flinch at the scream in his throat, scuffle back into the safety of the house of the man you love who is the father of the man you were married to, the man who broke you, the betrayed son. He’s shocked still for a single second, before he’s charging at you, fist not entirely raised but definitely held with consideration. And, “I knew it, I always fucking knew it,” before Joel is there, stepping between you and your ex-husuband, his son, blocking you with his body, big hand wrapping entirely around your forearm to hold you close to himself, to hold you in his protection.

“You better put your fucking arm down before I break it, son.” That moment, Joel’s voice, the utter betrayal in his son’s eyes. The sound of you breaking something that you should have never ever gotten in between. It is worse than all the rest. You take him in, the sight of this man who you used to be married to, he’d always seemed so large in your eyes before, so unattainable. Something never to be fully touched, only gazed upon. Always apart, always cold. Sam’s eyes fall to the place where his father holds you, and his face spasms, something terrible. Broken and alone, a child cast out into the cold. And you want to say that he seems so different now, haggard and gaunt and whittled down to bare bones, but it isn’t the truth. You always knew what he was, your most terrible bit of honesty. You always knew, you’d just not cared before. There was never any separation, no space for you to take a breath and want better for yourself. To be under his scrutiny, something that at one time felt like admiration, but was never anything even close, it was like nothing else, like everything, a great lie. But he was too aware of it, of himself, of that power he held over you, and unlike his father, he was cruel with it. Your eyes move up to the back of Joel’s head, the hard edge of his jaw, the muscle that spasms furiously there. What would it do to you now to be under that same sort of attention, influence, admiration, but from a kinder, gentler, honest source? What had it done to you? Dangerous to risk yourself again, impossible to stop now.

“I always knew it,” he says again, “I always knew you wanted him. What? You let him fuck you?” The words in his mouth are a terrible thing, Joel says something, tells him to hold his tongue, to get the fuck out, but your eyes are riveted on the sight of his face, this man you used to be married to who’d broken you so completely, who’d stolen your very memory of yourself. He seems wholly unrecognizable now, and in a way, it frightens you, that someone you’d known for what seemed like so long could be such a stranger now. Joel’s hand is an anchor, such a comfort wrapped around your arm. “You barely let me touch you for two years, but you’ll bend over like a whore for my fucking Dad?” His voice breaks and it makes you want to laugh a little bit.

Joel shoves him backward, jerking you forward still in his hold. “Say that word one more time in my house, and I won’t be held responsible for what I do to you. And don’t fucking look at her,” he snaps, reaching up to give him a quick two tapped slap on the cheek to focus his gaze on himself. “Get out, Sam. I’ll call you later. We can–”

But unheeded or too far gone, like he needs to hear the sound of the words as a comfort to himself in this moment, Sam looks back at you, “You’re a fucking whore. I wish I’d never met you, I hate you.” Joel shoves him backwards again, harder this time so that his leg slams into the side table, overturning the lamp there into a crashing heap on the floor, so hard that when he pulls you with him it feels as if he’ll wrench your shoulder from its socket with the force of his anger. You yelp in pain, but cling to him anyways, refusing to let him go either, hiding behind the hill of his shoulder. Pushing his son away, not letting you go. It’s wrong, it’s wrong and you’d told him that you wanted to keep him, to take him away from his own son, that you were made of nothing but greed, but there’s something wrong here, inherently not right, bad.

And even yet, you can’t help the look on your face that must surely be nothing short of humiliating to Sam for the way he reddens, the little muscles in his face jerking uncontrollably. You’re done here, Sam. Get the fuck out, Joel says again, taking a step forward to herd him out, pulling you along, keeping you close. You taunt him with your gaze, can’t help yourself, “I thought I was a prude?” You say from behind the protection of his father’s body. “Isn’t that what you called me for all those years? Thought I was frigid, unfuckable, unlovable? Am I not anymore?” You ask in a small, breathy voice, falsely guileless, entirely provoking. “Have you changed your mind now that I’ve taken your Daddy from you?” False pout and mocking eyebrow.

Joel’s head snaps over his shoulder, incredulous look on his face, and Sam flinches as if struck, splintered glass in the shape of his son’s gaze, it fractures, falls back to where Joel holds you.“I wanted to talk to you,” He says to his father, “I wanted to– You’re really choosing her over me?” It costs Sam something to say this, and you weren’t expecting it either because suddenly, the game changes. His voice is child-like in its hurt, that son who longed for his father for all those years. “After everything that was stolen from us, you’re not going to choose me?” You know in that moment, he’s won.

“This isn’t about choice, son,” Joel tells him, but you hear it for the lie it is. “This isn’t about you versus her.”

“But it is,” and his eyes flash to yours, victory held in them. “She was my wife. And you’re my father, and you have to make a choice now. This is fucking sick.” There’d always been an intelligence to his cruelty, and he wields it now. The sound of his son’s name is a choked thing in Joel’s mouth. He goes rigid, a painful stillness, muscles vibrating with warring emotions. You hold your breath for it. He looks down at where he holds you, tightens his grip painfully, and then slowly, so that the three of you are sure to take in the whole procession of it, he lets go of your arm. One finger at a time, the heat of his palm leaving you, and you’re alone.

“It isn’t about choice,” he says again, and yet, one has already been made. You stand still, head bent, gaze riveted on the place where he’d let you go. He takes a step away from you, towards his son, and his voice is low and gentle and soothing now, and you’re still staring at the barrenness of your arm.

I had such potential to be good, you think. He just never saw it. But you don’t know who you mean. And you don’t think it matters anymore.

They say more to each other. Joel’s hand on his son’s arm now, pushing him towards the door, but still, still comforting for the thing it symbolizes, a benediction of choice, and you turn around to face the other side of the room. You can’t look – wrapping your arms around yourself. You don’t think you’ll run this time. Face it head on, let it be over now in full. Sam’s voice rings shrill, the sound of your name and curses and accusations, fighting a futile fight against his father’s even baritone, the sound of the slamming door, and then silence. When you turn back over your shoulder, they’ve stepped outside together, leaving you alone inside the house.

He’d asked you once what you wanted, and you can’t fathom what the point of it had been. What does it matter what I want? That’s the least significant thing here. It always was.

When he finally comes back inside, you’re dressed, lost bra retrieved, your bag packed and sitting at your feet. You’d gone into the kitchen just before, taken a peek at the pie, and you were right, and you don’t know how he could have possibly known, but he’d gotten you rhubarb. Your face is dry now, no tears and no will to cry. There’s nothing to speak of in his gaze when he leans back against the door to look at you, swallowing down words you’re sure will mean nothing in the face of all of this. And you look at him and you love him and you think, I was married to a man once and now I’m not and now I’m with his father and I love him in the way I never loved the son; and so now, I must ask myself, am I merely looking for the love of lesser man, who could have never given me what I needed, in the eyes of a man who seems to have all the answers?

You don’t think so. And yet, there are still no answers to be had, and no questions left to ask.

“I’m going this time,” In case he has designs to force you to stay, and even though there’s a light of acceptance in his eyes, he still shakes his head. Swallows and gathers his seams about himself before he says, “You aren’t leaving me,” gaze churning from warry to flinty to resolved.

“I was never supposed to stay at all. I was never supposed to be for you. You said so yourself– you said we couldn’t fall in love. That I wasn't for you.” You get to your feet, pulling your purse over your shoulder, and he rushes towards you, pushing the bag back down to the floor, taking your face in his hands hard, something like panic in his eyes and in the air and in the vibration of his voice.

“It doesn’t matter, none of that matters– Whatever was before, whatever was in the past doesn’t mean shit when it’s just you and me here together–” And you’re crying now, real, great sobs of grief.

“You were the one that said we couldn’t fall in love,” you cry again, try and pull away, but he holds you to himself, squeezes you against him, shivers like he too is crying, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I was a fucking idiot, a damn liar. There was never any other option, baby.” Most terrible of terrible truths, you’d both known if for the lie it was the moment he’d said it, even before, probably. You stand limply in the circle of his embrace. He’d said once that he’d been a coward not to go out and look for you, but you know the opposite is true. No one is more of a coward than you were for not having waited for him. For having been so desperate for love, you’d been willing to settle for the wrong kind. You’ll never be able to settle for false comfort like that again, and it’s all his fault. “You’ve ruined me now. I’m ruined.”

He pulls back to take your face in his hands again, and you were right, he is crying. “I’m ruined! And I need you to give me another chance. I demand another chance– to… to fix this. To–”

But another chance for what? To change what? “He’s your son, and I only want you to be happy.” And you know he couldn’t ever be happy, truly happy, estranged from his only child. After all, like he’d said, the theft of him had been the worst thing ever done. You wouldn’t commit a crime like that against Joel also, never.

“Baby, please, I think… I– I love–”

“Please–” You press the tips of your fingers to his mouth, silencing him. “Please, don’t do this to me now.” It makes you angry, this intent of his to trap you here with his love when there’s no room for you to stay. You turn away, picking up your bag again, but he snatches you back into himself, wrapping his big arms around your waist, crushing you against his chest. And you’d struggle if you could, but there’s so little fight left in you. “You’re the one that said – you said we couldn’t!”

“I know what I fucking said,” he spits, voice so angry it almost frightens you. “But there’s still– We have to talk, we have to–”

“What can you possibly imagine there’s left to say?”

“Everything.”

“Or nothing.”

“Look at me. Look at me–” He pulls your head back and to the side by your chin. There’s a bright flush sitting high on his cheekbones, and his eyes shift quickly back and forth between yours, searching for a way to fix this. To fix the good thing that’s now been broken. His thumb strokes the point of your chin softly, and he presses his mouth slowly to yours, eyes open to watch for your reaction. “This wasn’t a mistake,” he tells you, “We weren’t a mistake.” Weren’t. The final nail in the coffin. “I know, I know that there are so many things– that we can’t… but just– just stand here with me for one minute, please. Just give me one more second, and I’ll–”

He doesn’t finish the thought, and you let him kiss you one last time. And when he pulls back, because it doesn’t feel like it really matters, and because you just want to hear the sound of it coming out of your mouth, because you wish it was true and not the complete opposite, because you want to be as cruel and ugly outside as you feel on the inside, you whisper, “I hate you,” a full bodied lie.

His eyes shutter and flicker for a moment, a wash of hurt suffusing them. But because he’s never been a weak man and because he’s always been honest, and he’s always, always above everything else, been good, he says, “And I love you,” and there it is. You’d thought you wanted to hear the sound of that too, but now that you have, it’s more terrible than you could have ever possibly imagined. And after that, there really is nothing left to say.

Joel goes to see his brother afterwards because it’s what he always does and who he always goes to when he’s lost. When a son in the shape of a man made of nothing but childish fear and anger and hurt, had appeared one day, dropped out of the blue sky, onto his front porch, when he realized he wanted his daughter-in-law in a way no good man should. And now, that he’s admitted, because the realization had already been there, swift and uncompromising, the admittance had been all that was left, the hard going part, that he was in love with you – in love with the woman who had been married to his son, here he finds himself again. Lost and weak and two feet tall, made of nothing but hollow bones. “I’m not myself,” he tells Tommy, and then amends the lie because he’s not come here to tell lies. “She’s made me into someone I don’t recognize and wish I could be forever.” How would he get his old self back now? Impossible. You’d taken him away with you, he was only half made now, half man, half strength. And Tommy is understanding because it has always only been the two of them, and he’s always seen Joel for exactly who he is without judgement. The most honest eyes in the whole world, his brother. “I'm afraid that she’s the love of my life. I’m afraid that I’m not really so afraid at all. And she won’t even talk to me.” You’d left his house a week and a day ago, and Joel was going out of his mind, losing pieces of himself along the way, his sanity, his sense of right and wrong, his self restraint, self possession. He was about to do something crazy, he felt it gnawing and itching at his bones. He could barely remember the look of betrayal in his own son’s eyes amidst the madness of the memory of the hurt in yours, the sight of you walking away from him. “And my son. My son, my child, Tommy, he hates me. And I’m in love with the woman he used to be married to, who he hurt. And he’s a cruel and small man, and he needs me. He needs my help, and I have a responsibility to him. But Tommy– Tommy, I love her. She’s mine. And what am I going to do? What am I going to say to him? How will I ever face him again? She’s mine, and I– I can’t explain it, I can’t excuse it. But she’s mine– she’s my woman. She belongs to me. I know this as well as I know my own name, my own face.”

And his brother, his brother, his brother who always understands him, who always stands beside him, he claps him on the shoulder and says, “If anyone can find a way, Joel, it’s you. I know you can. You’re stronger and smarter than anyone I’ve ever known. And you don’t abandon yours.” And so Joel must believe him because Tommy is his brother, and he knows him, and he knows that even though he’s weak now, even if he must let himself be weak now, in the face of all of this, Joel is not truly a weak man where it counts.

You and Sam had only ever spoken once on the topic of children. It was, from the first moment broached, a non possibility, not even half of an option. Devastating, but now, all this time later, almost like a grace from God. You’d wanted a baby so badly, more than anything in the whole world, and he would not give you one. He’d said your desire for a child was incongruous with your cold nature, how frigid you were.

And you’d been so long, caught in the who am I, in the what am I doing. You never stopped to ask why. Molded into a bad shape, but mute and deaf to the intricacies of what had carved you so. You’d needed to destroy yourself entirely, tear down everything around yourself, and then recreate yourself and everything else in your life in a new image. Perhaps, then, you’d finally have the chance to be good.

Your husband’s father had given you this. Joel had given you this.

And Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel. How to tell him that you’re sorry? That you’re vile and cruel and yes, even cold sometimes, but for him, for him you can find it in yourself to be soft, something to be forgiven, you hope. His son had called you a prude, and then, his father’s whore. Did it matter what the truth was? You weren’t so sure. Did you want Joel because you were a whore? Because your own father had never loved you, and you were thus desperate to fill that void left by lesser, crueler men? Did it matter? You hated the idea that this desire for him had to have been born by consequence of another man. What about what you wanted? What about the fact that it felt good when he was inside of you? When he gave it to you rough and hard and when he told you that you belonged to him because you did, because it was the truth. What about the fact that you were in love with him? That should have counted more because you said it counted more. And then that was it, nothing more to the thing of it. So what if he was the father of the man who’d been your husband? The man who’d stolen all of your surety, your passion, yourself. Sometimes, retribution feels fucking good. So what about it? And then, and after all, you were in love with him. So what did it all matter after that?

People liked to say that sometimes a bad thing is worth it if it feels good enough. But what if you didn't think it was bad at all, and what if it didn’t just feel good enough? What if it’s actually everything, the best thing you’d ever had in your whole life? And what if it is simply and solely, or maybe even also, who cares, who cares, what if it is simply because it’s Joel? Joel who is beautiful and strong and good. Maybe even perfect in a way that you need.

He’d told you once that he’d never had the chance to be angry, that it had been stolen from him, the worst thing ever done to me, he’d said. You know that you could never do that to him. Never hurt him in that way. And there might be so many options. Choices. Truths. Yourself. Finally, you are only yourself. Good in the way he’d shown you to be. In a way that did not bow to anything but the sort of goodness you needed. But Joel; above all else, Joel. He is the first choice, and everything else seems inconsequential after that. What is goodness worth in the face of all he’s given you?

So, you sit now, within the basin of your empty bathtub, no more leaky kitchen sink echoing through your empty apartment, he’d fixed it weeks ago, and peer over the lip of the tub. And there, blinking up at you from the face of the skinny pink and white stick, is your answer to goodness. It had always been within yourself. And you think, if it must be just the two of us now, then let it. After all, your father has finally taught me how to be good.

End.

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sweetteainthesummerx · 3 months

Text

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (14)

In which we visit the homeland...

series masterlist

I PROMISE THE SLOWBURN WILL FAST BURN SOON!!

Notes: ty for sticking w me and indulging me in my slow updates hehe

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist or if you have any feedback!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

charles_leclerc posted

charles_leclerc famiglia 🇮🇹

liked by olliebearman, carlos_sainz55 and 75,092 others

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charles_leclercfannie just a man with his son, his sons gf, who is also his gf's gf

-- user1 family tree goes hard

-- user2 the two cutest couples on the grid fr

scuderiaferrari the motherland 🇮🇹

-- charles_leclerc ❤️

oscarpiastri was the spaghetti good

-- olliebearman it was very

carlos_sainz55 where was my invite

-- alexandrasaintmleux group trip w beck next break!!

gridfandom THE GIRLS ARE SO MOTHERRRR like do u need a family dog other than Leo I can bark

aubreyyang posted on their story

caption: gelato and espresso 🍨☕️

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux

macecoronel replied to your story

you look hot

seen

Aubrey frowned at the notification. Maybe it was time to finally block him. Ollie, now wearing her sunglasses as they boarded the yacht they'd rented out for the afternoon, leaned down to wrap her up in her arms.

"What's wrong?" he set his chin on her shoulder.

"My ex." she chewed her lip and showed him the text.

He took the phone gently, deleting the reply, "You're here to have a good time, love. Let's get you a drink and some sun."

She just about melted into a puddle.

She let Ollie press the block button and slip the phone into her purse, and let him hand her a fruity cocktail, and let him rub sunscreen onto her neck and back.

aubreyyang posted

aubreyyang you're golden like daylight

liked by olliebearman, aubreyday1 and 75,092 others

aubreyday1 mama y papa

-- user1 new parents alert!!

-- user2 waiting for them to be official that has to be ollie

olliebearman cool rocks

-- aubreyyang almost lost my life climbing them

-- charles_leclerc but you got a great photo TAKEN BY ME

-- f1fankinnie lmaooo hes so fed up with not being credited

user3 PLEASE ONE CHANCE RESPECTFULLY I AM LOOKING

dior.n.goodjohn I am no better than a man 🤤

-- alexandrasaintmleux same

-- charles_leclerc ???

user4 OLLIE COMMENTING? THE CHAOS OF ALEX? THE BEAUTIFUL HAIR??

"He's staring." Alex giggled from where the girls were tanning on the boat. The boys were a few meters off, talking with the captain and trying to convince the older, stern man to let them have a go at driving the boat.

"Your boyfriend of two years? I would hope he's staring at you." Aubrey rolled her eyes.

"No, your boyfriend of..."

"No, not-" she started, but Alex rolled her eyes so hard that Aubrey thought they would fall out of her head.

"He told you that your more to him than that and he thinks your better than any fame. I know these things, ma petite. That is a man in love."

"He is not-"

"Speak of the devil."

"Hey, guys." Ollie was approaching them, a mischievous look on his boyish face, and Aubrey immediately knew what he was going to do.

"No, no!" she tried to scramble up and away, but he was too fast. Quickly, he picked her up like she weighed nothing and jumped into the sun-warmed ocean, twisting so he hit the water first.

She climbed onto his waist, legs wrapped around him. He smiled proudly as she spluttered, wiping her hair away.

"Oliver! That was so uncalled for." she scolded, but she herself could even hear the laugh in her warning.

"You looked pretty. Wanted to get up close."

"And personal?" she snorted as he laughed.

His nose bumped hers, and the warmth that always seemed to bubble up when he was near resurfaced.

"Always."

olliebearman posted

olliebearman italia :)

liked by olliebearmanfanart, aubreyyang and 61,382 others

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landonorris nice view

-- olliebearman mate

-- georgerusselstance21 OH THEYRE TOGETHER TOGETHER HUH

olliebearmanfanart my parents fr they're adorable

user1 his old gf was better tbh...

-- aubersfan1 get tf out. they're clearly happier together and dont ruin it because ur an incel.

-- user2 OH WORDDD

alexalbon cool hat

-- aubreyyang why ty I bought one for lily u can steal it

-- lilymhe MY WIFEEE

-- alexalbon im literally right here like 🧍🏻‍♂️

aubreyyang ❤️

-- user 3 STAWPP THEURE JJQWEFIJ SOO CUTE

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls @destinyg237 @ilivbullyingjeongin @eiaaasamantha @1uvsptnik @yla-aira

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7waystreet · 2 months

Text

dirty confessions | jeon jungkook

This BTS 18+ explicit series will include 7 diary entries (one from each of the bangtan boys) confessing to the dirty thoughts they have about (y/n) and the sinful sexual acts they've part taken in during their lives.

I kindly ask the reader to start with pt.1 and end with pt.7 since it's a series and will contain overlapping scenarios and characters ♡

✬ foreword pt. 1 — seokjin pt. 2 — yoongi pt. 3 — namjoon pt. 4 — hoseok pt. 5 — jimin pt. 6 — taehyung pt. 7 — jungkook

pt. 7 — jungkook

Dear diary,

I have a confession to make. I fucked Namjoon hyung's sister, Hobi hyung's ex gf, and Yoongi hyung's gf all together in our dorm while the boys were out. I'm the golden maknae after all, bitches.

Now let me write out the events of my sexcapade one by one on these pages like I dumped my cum in each of their holes.

It was late into the night when I took off my headphones after hours of playing Overwatch by myself in my bedroom, my hand mindlessly scratching my balls while I walked over to the kitchen for a quick snack. It's then when I heard a few girls whispering in the dimly lit living room of our dorm, my ears perking up at once when I recognized Namjoon hyung's sister's voice. I remember hyung saying she was going to visit so it wasn't really a big deal seeing her in the boys' apartment, but I held in my breath when I noticed Hobi hyung's ex gf and Yoongi hyung's gf both on the couch too, all of the girls talking shit about the hyung line together.

"Thanks so much for inviting us girls so we can all confront the boys tonight!"

Fuck. I knew they were up to no good, but I had the advantage of hiding and listening to their plan without their knowledge while I blended behind a curtain in the hallway. The tea was SPILLED.

I found out Namjoon hyung's sister and Jin hyung were fucking and actually ended up catching feelings for each other, but they were too terrified to come out and tell Namjoon hyung about it. No shit... hooking up with a member's sister is fucked up, but we all know Jin hyung has no morals. She wanted to confess the truth to her brother tonight... Goodluck dealing with his wrath, I thought in silence.

I also found out the two other girls were cheating and hooking up with each other's bfs... What in the fucking world? And the fact that they were cuddling on the couch and saying sorry to one another?! I'll never understand the female species. This is why I stay away from chicks and stick to my video games. I don't even know how I got lucky bagging my gf, who's much more sane compared to these lot.

That's when I decided to call V hyung and update him on this gossip for some light bit of entertainment. I opened our location sharing app on my phone just to check if he was also at home just locked up in his bedroom, and that's when my heart fell out of my chest... Why was his location at my gf's apartment this late into the night? I decided to inspect and give him a call, but he never picked up.

Sorry Jungkookie. Out with friends. Will call you tmrw.

This stupid fucking bastard had the audacity to text me that big of a lie when I have his location? At least Jimin hyung answered my call even when the poor guy was half asleep. An anger unlike I've known ruptured my insides, a mixture of plunging sadness poising my mind when my gf replied back to my sweet goodnight text with "Cuddling a big bear to bed right now wishing it was you."

This bitch was definitely fucking V hyung behind my back. That's it, I lost my cool.

"ALL YOU GIRLS ARE DISGUSTING!"

Overwhelmed with emotions, I stomped into the living room and revealed myself to the noonas, my upset state of mind compelling me into lashing out at them, who realistically didn't deserve to endure my sudden outburst at all. It wasn't really them who I was upset at, it was just girls who cheat in general. But never did I think the night would end up the way it did based off of that aching awkward silence followed my grand entrance.

"Kook... Please don't tell the boys anything you heard. Please. You can't. They've to hear it from us otherwise it'll ruin the entire friend group. It could ruin Bangtan" Namjoon hyung's sister pleaded with puppy eyes.

Hah. Manipulation at it's finest. You're the one who's gonna screw up and then put it all on me? You think I'm a dumbass not able to see the way you're trying to coax me? Baby, please don't embarrass yourself.

"What do I get in return for keeping quiet?" I was willing to play their dirty little tricks, not giving them any satisfaction whatsoever.

"How about we... come to an agreement between the four of us?"

I didn't understand what she meant by her words until she got up and slowly walked towards me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders before suddenly pulling me in for a kiss on the lips. My mind immediately yelled S T O P but my dick felt a tingle when her tits pushed into mine, the taste of her cherry chapstick and the scent of her floral perfume numbing out my brain for the brief couple of seconds we kept kissing.

"If you girls love fucking people who you shouldn't be fucking, then show me a good time. I'll only keep quiet this way" my pulsing cock spoke for itself without my permission...

The smirk on the girls' faces mimicked the one devising on mine when I dropped on the couch and manspread, waiting for the big show to get started. The thrill of it was like no other I've experienced, even topping the high I feel everytime I get a new tattoo. The hyungs were all out at the club tonight and could walk into the living room any given moment, but I didn't give a fuck. I'm lowkey the wildest — no cap.

All three noonas got naked within the blink of an eye, the vibes immaculate with the dim mood lighting, the way they helped me out of my sweats one by one giving me goosebumps while an unbearable heat began running through my blood. It was like I was in a porno getting pleasured by a bunch of chicks, Hobi hyung's ex gf and Yoongi hyung's gf both opting to suck my dick in turns on their knees while Namjoon hyung's sister stayed up on the couch and made out with me. Shit, no wonder the members were fucking these three girls in turns, their mouths like pros gagging on my cock and coughing up spit, getting me even more aroused as they panted and jerked me off with their hands to breathe in some air in between.

The two girls kept playing with my dick, their spits mixing and slobbering all over my boner as they deep throated it in turns, a set of lips lightly sucking on my balls at times to get me moaning from the pleasure. Namjoon hyung's sister and I shared more of a bond since we've been family friends for a while, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a crush on her when I first moved to Seoul and met her, but here I was now with my tongue down her throat, the way she slid down and sucked on my neck prickling a shiver to run down my spine.

I couldn't take it any longer and busted a nut for the first time that night, my money cum shot spurting all over the girls' pretty faces. They shyly giggled as they looked me in the eyes, my chest panting from reaching my high, although my lip curling in a smile when I said "Eat it off of each other." The two baddies did as I told them without hesitation, their tongues licking off my cum from one another's faces, eventually leading them into making out and moaning while naked right in front of me. Holy fuck, I felt myself getting hard again. Both me and noona just watched the two girls getting down with each other for a long time, the way they squeezed each other's tits and kissed one another a total turn on, noona then slowly whispering in my ear "Please fuck me, Jungkook."

Happily.

As I got on top of her on the couch, I couldn't help but think Jin hyung fucks her hard just like this too, but what kind of a maknae would I be if I didn't take anything and everything of Jin hyung's? I live to make him suffer. In fact, it's my birth right.

My attention was mostly on Namjoon hyung's sister as I stuck my cock roughly inside of her without notice, stretching out her walls with my girth, watching her eyes shut close as she adjusted to my length, but the loud moaning of one of the girls eating the other one out on the carpet right next to us was peaking my arousal at a finest. Watching two chicks hook up like that while my cock was pounding such a sweet pussy was an experience I'll never forget. My chest felt a burn that rose up to my throat when I heard the front door's handle rattle, but it was a false alarm as some drunk neighbors were coming home from a bar and stumbled to the wrong apartment... Hah. That didn't stop me from ruining noona's pussy though. I just kept slamming her throughout the incident, half hoping the hyungs walked in during this fuck fest. Fear is not a word in my dictionary.

The screams of all three of the bitches made the walls shake to say the least, my grunts barely audible as I lifted noona's legs up to angle myself even deeper into her pussy, smashing into her g-spot while she clenched tighter and tighter, making it such a gripping fit that I was ready to cum another time. Her face was turning pale as she contracted her muscles and held her breath in, her moans freezing up when she came around my cock allowing me to slid in an out better as she let go, my orgasm following shortly and my cum creaming her up and dripping onto the couch in a slop when I pulled out.

I happened to look down and caught Yoongi hyung's gf cumming into Hobi hyung's ex gf's mouth from a mind blowing eating out job, the wild chick appearing quite talented with her tongue. It was her who needed a reward for the hard work now, so I got on the floor and pinned her down while the other girl was catching her breath post orgasm.

I just stuck my fingers into her wet pussy which was just throbbing and waiting to be filled, pumping in and out with varying speeds and angles to get her whimpering in no time, not breaking our smoldering eye contact whatsoever. It took just a couple of minutes to get her cumming, the way she was already so aroused from tasting pussy a turn on for me too as I gave her what she needed, which was a hot fingering session that'd change her life.

That's when the hyung line walked in on all four of us butt ass naked on the floor in the dorm living room, their feet freezing up in their steps and faces turning ghost pale at the crazy sight.

"Oh, right hyungs... We're all fucking each other's girls if y'all hadn't caught on already. Bangtan for life, am I right?"

a/n ♡

i imagined jungkook being a key player to tie up all loose ends in this series, the way he disapproves of the hyungs dirty behavior but ends up doing the same exact thing an ode to his bratty maknae side and how he's "allowed" to get away with things being the youngest

— using gen z words: "no cap", "baddie", "tea spilt" reflects his age as he throws in more slang than others

— his fearlessness: jungkook is as brave as it gets in bts, none of the other members being on this level despite their dirty confessions

— feelings towards members: even in his diary he's quarreling with seokjin like irl (calling him out for "no morals", saying he lives to make jin suffer). meanwhile, he seems to view namjoon as an authoritative figure like irl, and his closeness with tae and jimin shows when he decides to call them to gossip about the drama

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #방탄소년단 #dirtyconfessions #7waystreet

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ladykailitha · 6 months

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Icarus Part 6

Hello! I don't know how long it's been since I've updated this, so if you don't remember much, I recommend going back and at least rereading part 5.

In this Steve and Eddie talk and you meet Steve's bandmates and best friends outside of Robin, Eddie, and Dustin.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

****

After the shower and the best sex Steve had ever had, Eddie and he lay curled up on the bed.

“I hate lying to everyone,” he murmured. “It eats me up inside. But if one person found out...” He buried his head into Eddie’s shoulder.

“But one person did find out, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly. He rubbed Steve’s back soothingly. “The world didn’t end. Your secret is still safe. I’ll make sure of it.”

Steve let out a low shuddering breath. “I trust you. I do. It’s everyone else I don’t trust.”

Eddie threaded his fingers through Steve’s hair and brought their foreheads together. “So trust me to keep everyone else at bay. Can you do that?”

Steve let his eyelids flutter closed and he took a deep breath. “Yeah, Eds. I can do that.”

“Just one more thing, sweetheart and you can go to sleep.”

Steve opened his eyes and asked, “Yeah, what’s that?”

“The boys want The Fallen to join Corroded Coffin on our next US tour,” he said with a grin. “What do you say? You think your band would want to do that?”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Like for real? All the guys signed off on us opening for you?”

Eddie tilted his head in confusion. Where did that question come from? But as he thought about it he knew exactly who Steve was referring to.

“Yes, even Gareth,” he said with amusement. “They all love your guys’ sound. You’re even his favorite bandmember.”

Steve snorted. “I wouldn’t be if he knew who Abbadon was.”

He winced, Eddie really wished he could refute that but Gareth was sure that Steve would swoop in and take Eddie away from the band, leaving them high and dry.

Steve wouldn’t have done that prior to being in his own metal band, but it was even less likely now.

“Gareth has his own hang ups,” Eddie said. “Don’t you be worrying about them, okay?”

Steve let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I just wish I knew why he didn’t like me very much.”

Eddie pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “He doesn’t like anyone who could break up the band by being ‘Yoko Ono’. You, Miranda, anyone any of us have dated ever. But it’s okay if he dates, because he knows to make sure that the band is his top priority.”

Steve pulled away a little and leaned up to look Eddie in the eye. “Wait, what?”

“Yup,” Eddie said, gently pulling him back down. “So don’t you worry your pretty head about it, okay?”

Steve kissed him deeply and buried his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck, nuzzling the column of his throat.

Soon they had both drifted off to sleep.

****

Steve was woken in the early hours by Eddie kissing him goodbye.

“I’ve got to go before anyone gets wind I’m here, darlin’,” he murmured. “But I’ll text when I can, okay?”

Steve nodded and snuggled back into his pillow to go back to sleep.

Eddie shook his head fondly. He slipped out into the hallway where Robin was waiting for him.

She was leaning up against the wall with her head down and her arms crossed.

“Miss Celeste,” he murmured, miming tipping a hat.

She pushed herself off the wall and turned to him. “Are you going to be trouble for us?”

She tossed him a plain black hoodie which he quickly pulled over his head.

“You and Ste–Abbadon?” Eddie asked cocking his head to the side.

Robin shook her head. “All of us. The whole band. Abbadon and I aren’t the only ones hiding our identities. I don’t want them outed anymore then I want Abbadon outed. I mean it’s not that big a deal for me. I can be their manager no matter what I look like now.”

Eddie regarded her for a moment, thinking. He had a pretty good idea who the other bandmates were. And it made sense. They had separate lives that could be ruined if word got out they played for a metal band.

“I don’t know shit, Cici,” he muttered. “And that stands for as long you need me to.”

She blinked at the new nickname, unsure if she liked it or not. She waved the thought away, she had more important things to worry about.

“I’ll hold you to that, Munson,” Robin said pointing her finger at him. “Do not ruin this for us.”

Eddie gave a jaunty salute and started down the hallway back the way he’d come up.

Immediately he ducked his head and changed his gait, becoming a completely different person.

Robin watched until he was out of sight.

She shook her head. She had been so concerned about the geniuses that she had been blindsided by the idiot.

Granted this idiot was in love with Steve, but she wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

She supposed only time would tell.

****

Robin sat with her boys. Steve was her soulmate, but these three were her brothers. She loved all of them.

She looked at each one of them in turn. Shane Kendrick was a bright-eyed, freckled red-head. His hair was a riot of curls and sheered on the on the sides. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking up at her like a lost child.

Simon Olsen was on the sofa with Steve. He was practically a video game main character. Dark hair and eyes, chiseled jaw, dashing good looks. He was leaning heavily into Steve’s side as Steve draped a comforting arm around his shoulders.

The final member of the group was Spencer Peters, a blond haired, blue eyed man with a crooked nose and a mischievous grin.

“Okay guys,” Robin began. “i have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

“Bad!” they chorused.

Robin shook her head at these absolute dorks. “The bad news is that someone clocked Steve as Abbadon.”

“Shit!” Spence hissed. “What happened?”

Steve chuckled. “Apparently I had a secret admirer for years.”

Simon looked up at Steve in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Eddie Munson has been in love with our Stevie so long that he clocked Steve from the two little moles on the underside of his jaw,” Robin said dryly.

Shane leaned forward, eyes wide. “Are you for real right now?”

“Eddie Munson?” Spence echoed. “As in frontman for the biggest band in the world?”

Steve cackled. “That would be the one.” They all stared at him like he had grown an extra head. “Come on, guys, you know that I’ve been friends with him for years. I even went to school with him. It’s not out of the realm of possibility.”

“Holy shit,” Spence said, eyes wide. “You totally fucked.”

Steve turned a bright red.

Simon leaned a little bit away from Steve to look him in the eye. “You slept with Eddie Munson. Was that before or after he found out you were Abbadon?”

“After,” Robin said. “He sent flowers to Abbadon’s dressing room last night with a note letting him he figured it out.”

The three other men gasped in shock.

“Weren’t you upset?” Shane asked. “I think I would be regardless of who had done the guessing.”

Steve licked his lips. “Was it harrowing for a bit there? Sure, I’m not going to lie. But I trust this man with my life,” he said. “But I’m not going to trust him with yours. If you want him to know, you can tell him, but otherwise, Celeste and Abbadon ain’t gonna say shit to him, and Robin and Steve don’t know jack.”

The three men looked at each other.

Spence shrugged. “Like he’ll probably figure it out.”

Simon sat up fully and blushed. “I think he spotted me as he was coming out of the dressing room, if that was him.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, Robin and I hauled him in there to make sure he actually knew and wasn’t just fucking around.”

Shane licked his lips. “Just so I got this straight,” he said, “Eddie Munson figured out Steve is Abbadon because he’s mapped out every freckle and mole he has, he sent Steve flowers letting him know he knew, they fucked about it, and he most likely knows that the rest of us are in the band, but probably not who’s who for sure. That sound about right?”

Steve and Robin shared a glance and Robin nodded.

“That sums it up, yeah.”

Simon collapsed back into Steve’s side. “What’s the good news?”

“Corroded Coffin wants us to open for them the next time they go on their US tour,” Steve said with a grin.

Suddenly all three men were on their feet and staring down at Steve in shock.

“There is no way,” Spence hissed. “Is this because of you and Eddie?”

Steve shook his head. “No. I can see why you’d think that. But all us getting together did was give Eddie the chance to ask. The other members of the band are fans of ours.”

Shane raised an eyebrow. “But not Eddie?”

“Yeah...Eddie’s a music snob,” Robin said with a grimace. “He thought the band was gimmicky.”

Spence snorted, throwing himself back on the chair and crossing his arms. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.” He half shrugged. “A lot people thought like that with our first album and we kinda were. But now that we’ve settled into our personas better, we’re going to hear that less and less.”

“I can’t believe you’re taking Eddie’s side,” Simon said with a glare, curling back up against Steve like a large house cat.

Steve rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s okay. He changed his mind when he saw us live. Just like a lot of people. You can’t keep nitpicking something that he’s since changed his mind on, especially since you didn’t know about the other thing until we told you.”

Simon rolled his eyes, but wisely said nothing else.

“When and where would we be touring?” Shane asked, settling back down on the floor, cross-legged.

“Not for awhile,” Steve said. “They just got back into the studio. Something that our own record label has been begging us to do since we started our second leg of our US tour.”

Spence nodded. “Which gives me and Shane time to write our third album and get it some of it recorded before they want us back on the road.”

Shane did their music and Spence did their lyrics. That was another thing that surprised a lot pundits when The Fallen first came out. Drummers weren’t usually a band’s writer. But it worked for them.

Steve could play guitar and sing, but he couldn’t write music and his poetry had caused many a partner to laugh out loud at his attempts.

But Spence was really good at getting to the heart of Steve’s emotions and channeling them into soulful lyrics.

Steve would come to them with a idea for a song and between the three of them they would work it out.

Simon didn’t mind not being a part of that process. If Steve’s poetry attempts were bad they were nothing compared to Simon’s attempts at writing a fantasy novel.

He had two thousand pages of...well. Simon called it a mess and no one could disagree. He had read several books on writing, attended lectures and classes, watched Masterclass for half a dozen writers, and it boiled down to one inescapable truth.

Simon was too wordy and did not take criticism well. So anything he wrote was for himself and for fun.

He had published a couple of RPF fanfics about a couple of actors from some detective show, but they never really got any attention and then when the band took off, he just never had the time.

He was more than happy to just lay on the guitar riffs and solos when they needed him to and let them do the rest.

Plus it was fun watching the three of them take Steve’s word vomit and turn it into a hit single.

“I’ve also got someone coming in and deprogramming our personas,” Robin said, “so we don’t look like weirdos with no spacial awareness.”

Simon giggled. “Just how many of your friends thought you were cursed, Steve?” he teased their frontman.

“Oh hardy ha,” Steve grumbled.

“Most of them them,” was Robin’s cheerful reply.

Steve stuck his tongue out at her. “So just to reiterate, Eddie knows about me and Robin and will probably guess about you three, but it is up to you if want to tell him. We’re going back into the studio for our third album and Corroded Coffin is currently recording their ninth. And while we’re there, we’re going to learn how to be regular humans again. Then after they’re done and hopefully us, too,” he added as an aside, “and they set the dates, we will open for them for just their US portion of their tour.”

He looked around at them.

“Any questions?”

The three other members just shook their heads.

“Great!” Robin said cheerfully. “Anybody got plans for tonight? Or are we doing the post tour celebratory dinner tonight since someone wasn’t there last night?”

“Post tour dinner and drinks are okay with me,” Simon said. “Though it was great to just crash last night.”

Shane and Spence nodded.

“I’m down,” Shane said, stretching his long limbs. “I could use a beer or three tonight after this meeting. Holy fuck.”

Steve nodded solemnly. “Mood.”

Everyone turned to Spence.

He blushed deeply. “Is it all right if I bring someone along?” His head snapped up and he waved his hands as the implication just hit him. “She doesn’t know, so if you don’t want her there it’s fine. But my sister set us up before the tour and we’ve been messaging back and forth.”

Steve laughed. “Take her on a proper date on Friday, you asshole. Tell her you’re still a bit jet lagged and want to be fresh and awake for her to give her the attention she deserves.”

Spence blushed and pulled out his phone to do just that.

Shane licked his lips with a mischievous grin. “Just tell me again why you were single for so long with moves like that?”

Robin snorted. “Because he had a crush on Eddie.”

Steve turned bright pink.

“You are positively hopeless, Steve,” Shane said shaking his head.

“Oh I don’t know,” Steve replied. “It seemed to work out pretty well.”

Robin hit the back of his head. “Only because you got lucky and Eddie figured you out.”

Steve’s expression softened and turned wistful. “Yeah. I’m really fortunate to have him.”

Shane and Spence looked at each other and sighed.

“Looks like there are going to be a couple of sappy loves songs on this album,�� Spence said, rolling his eyes.

Steve half shrugged, completely unrepentant.

Robin just shook her head fondly. God how she loved her boys.

****

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach

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@cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar au

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