#i finally came out of my shell and made new friends | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

happilyhertale · 1 year

Note

I have an aemond targaryen x reader fic idea in mind for ya! what about an aemond x fem!reader in which the two have always had a close friendship with each other since they were children, similar to alicent and rhaenyra's (reader would, of course, be the daughter of rhaenyra). the two would ride on dragonback together and do things childhood friends always did. although, that friendship crumbles after the terrible night that aemond lost his eye and the day reader is named heir to the throne.

years later, reader returns with her family as queen and with her dragon in tow. aemond and her reunite. not once did the two ever forget each other, aemond spent days and nights thinking of his best friend while reader dreamed of seeing the wonders of the world with him, maybe even more.

slight angst, fluff and smut pls? 💜💜💜

(also, I know her being queen probably doesn't make sense timeline wise but...yeah!)

Everlasting love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Author’s note: Hey you (:

This One Shot Story was requested by the wonderful @chainsawsangel💜

And is at the same time the steamy Aemond one shot as a thank you for 1000 followers 🖤

I hope you will enjoy it! English is my second language, soo.. please forgive me if I made any mistakes (: 18+ NSFW

Word count: 5.8 k

Other stories of mine

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You came into this world on a warm and radiant summer day. The sun shone brilliantly above, and the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs of Dragonstone echoed in the distance. You were the first precious offspring of your mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen, and your father, Laenor Velaryon. Thankfully, the birth went smoothly, and just a few days later, your family returned to King's Landing.

You were born not long after Aemond Targaryen, the second prince of the realm. The two of you were said to be very close as infants. Aemond was quite a restless baby and needed a lot of comfort, which often kept Queen Alicent up at night. To give her a break, Aemond was placed in the care of nurses. However, they had great difficulty calming him down and simply got used to the constant crying.

Rhaenyra was deeply pained to witness the suffering of the newborn baby, who also happened to be her half-brother. Unable to bear the sight any longer, she devised a plan to ease his distress - by placing you, a peaceful and attentive infant, in the cradle with him.

She gently placed you next to Aemond in the cradle. At first, you felt a bit annoyed when you saw him, but Aemond's crying immediately stopped. He became interested in you and studied you closely, eventually even giving a small smile. Rhaenyra was pleased to see this and watched over the two of you with contentment. And thus, the two of you rested together in the cozy cradle.

As you rested in your cradle, nestled alongside two dragon eggs, the space felt a bit snug. But every time someone tried to take one of you out of the cradle, the other immediately started to cry.

When you were just six years old, your dragon egg finally hatched in the comfort of your cozy chambers. As you sat by the warm fire, you kept the egg close to ensure your new companion would feel just as snug as it would have with its birth mother.

As you were quietly flipping through the pages of a book, you heard a sudden cracking sound. At first, you assumed it was just the sound of the wood in the fireplace. But the sound repeated itself, followed by a piercing scream that filled the air.

Startled, you looked up and saw a small dragon facing you. You cried out with joy and hurriedly crawled towards the egg. A guard came in because he was startled by your sudden cry. But you paid no attention to him, you were overjoyed. You helped your dragon to free himself from the egg. You broke down the hard shell to make it easier for her to come out. You held out your hand to her and she climbed up. The joy on your face was evident and didn't fade away.

You carried the dragon in your arms and went directly to Aemond's chambers. He was overjoyed for you and enamored with the tiny creature.

You two spent the whole evening saying "Dracarys", hoping it would breathe fire, but nothing happened. You giggled incessantly. When Rhaenyra came to put you to bed, you both persuaded her. You wanted to sleep in bed with Aemond and your dragon with you. Your mother was not at all pleased, but eventually gave in.

You cuddled up with Aemond in his bed, with your dragon nestled between you both. She lay curled up like a small kitten, adding to the cozy atmosphere.

"What are you going to name him?" whispered Aemond to you.

"Him? I think it's a girl..," you chuckled.

Aemond rolled his eyes, "Very well, what do you want to call her?"

You smiled, "I've thought of a few names... But I think Blackfyre is a good name"

Aemond chuckled, "An interesting choice... but I think it's good"

Aemond's dragon egg never hatched. Although you tried to provide him with positive encouragement by explaining that hatching is out of one's control and that some dragon eggs don't hatch at all, it was still very difficult for him to accept this outcome.

But every time you entered the dragonpit, Aemond would accompany you. He was there when you gave Blackfyre her first orders and it pleased him to see how obediently she responded.

He was also there when Blackfyre had her first meal. Each time you both visited, Aemond's happiness was palpable. As a result, Blackfyre grew accustomed to having both of you around.

And so you were with him when your brothers and Aegon surprised him with the pink dread. You were shocked that they would treat Aemond so badly. You comforted Aemond afterwards. He didn't deserve that. But he was deeply depressed. You then argued with your brothers and told them how stupid they were.

And so you sneaked into the hall before dinner. No one else was in the hall yet, but the table was already set. You quickly went to Aegon's place and saw the wine jug. You managed to catch some pee from Blackfyre in the afternoon. It wasn't much, as most of it ran down your hand, but it would do. Now you stood at Aegon's place and poured the dragon pee into the jug. You grinned. Quickly you looked around again before pulling snot up deep from your throat and spitting it into the jug as well. Hearing footsteps from outside, you quickly scurried to your seat. You hear the heavy wooden door open with a loud creak. You look at the door and smile. Your grandsire, King Viserys, came into the hall. With him were Lord Otto and Queen Alicent. Lord Otto and King Viserys seemed to be talking. Queen Alicent smiled at you.

"Hello my sweet," she said softly as she passed you. Queen Alicent was always kind to you. Often she caught you and Aemond trying to steal cakes or biscuits before dinner. But instead of telling your mother about your inappropriate behaviour, she would put on a stern face, let you keep your loot and quickly send you away before anyone else could see you. "Your Highness," you replied with a smile.

When Aemond came into the hall at some point, he still looked sad. He quietly took a seat beside you, seeming lost in thought. Soon after, Aegon arrived and took his own seat. You had been observing him attentively.

"What are you staring at?!" he snapped at you.

"Don't talk to her like that!" suddenly rang out from Aemond.

"Oooh... do you have to be strong in front of her now..." but Queen Alicent interrupted him.

"Aegon! Stop it, now!" she said sternly.

Aegon just snorted and poured himself some wine.

You slowly leaned over to Aemond, "Watch Aegon," you whispered.

"Why?", Aemond asked you irritated.

Aegon put his cup to his lips.

"I might have added some dragon's pee and snot in his wine," you said quietly.

Aemond laughed out loud, causing everyone to turn and look at the source of the noise. You held back a laugh, as you didn't want to draw attention to yourself. Meanwhile, Aegon had emptied his cup and was already pouring himself another drink. He seemed annoyed as he looked in your direction.

Aemond chuckled softly. He looked at you sweetly, "Thank you," he said softly to you. You grinned.

By the time you were ten years old, Blackfyre was big enough to ride. She was a big dragon that grew very fast. Your mother was strictly against you riding Blackfyre. She simply wanted to ensure your safety and was worried that you might accidentally slip off the dragon's back.

But it didn't stop you from riding Blackfyre. Of course you took Aemond with you. Blackfyre was the first dragon you and Aemond rode.

One day, word arrived that Laena Velaryon had passed away. She had made the difficult decision to end her life as a dragon rider during a difficult childbirth. You are now expected to journey to Driftmark to pay your respects at her funeral.

Before you left, you were with Aemond when his father, King Viserys, told him that they would travel to Dragonstone after the funeral. He said that Aemond could claim a dragon there if he was bold enough.

You quickly took hold of Aemond's hand to offer comfort. Although he didn't say anything, you could sense the hurt in his eyes caused by his father's words.

"Don't listen to him," you told Aemond afterwards, "He is indeed the king... but he is not always right. He does not know you. And of course you would be bold enough! You could claim any dragon!"

Aemond had to smile. But you still saw the disappointment in his gaze.

When you were on Driftmark for the funeral, everything happened very quickly. Aemond had no intention of travelling to Dragonstone. He wanted Vhagar. And he got Vhagar.

In the evening he sat with you in your chambers. He had promised that he would sneak into your chambers at night when everyone was asleep. But you only saw him again in the hall. In the middle of the night you woke up. Aemond was not in your chambers, but you heard loud conversations and shouting. Cautiously you got up. Quietly you went out into the corridor. You followed the voices and arrived at the hall. Everyone was gathered there. And then you saw Aemond. He was injured. A maester was sewing something in his eye. You went to him, but were held back by Daemon. He held you back with his arm and looked down at you. He just shook his head gently and pushed you carefully behind his big body. You didn't even take your eyes off Aemond.

Instead, you snuck into his chambers at night. He was lying on his bed, asleep. He had been given a lot of poppy juice, yet he had whimpered in his sleep. You climbed onto his bed and wrapped your little arms around him. He slowly stopped whimpering. You still had a calming effect on him, as you did in the cradle.

At bedtime, you made a habit of applying ointment to his scar to help ease the pain and aid in the healing process. Unfortunately, the maesters who had been assisting with this task were not gentle and caused Aemond to flinch in pain. One night, it became unbearable and Aemond was on the verge of tears. Feeling frustrated, you took matters into your own hands the following evening and took the ointment from the maester without saying a word.

"Princess. I must apply the ointment to Prince Aemond. You don't know how to do that"

"You are rough in applying it. You will not touch his scar again", you replied.

"Princess..." but you interrupted him.

"I have already successfully commanded Blackfyre to breathe fire. Would you like to feel that?", you looked coldly at him.

The maester paused. Then he tilted his head slightly and left the chambers.

Aemond sat speechless on the bed.

"You... You don't have to do this..." he finally said quietly.

"Oooh... don't be silly," you replied.

You went to the bed where he was resting, took some ointment from the bowl with your fingers, and gently spread it on his scar. Aemond had closed his good eye tightly, seemingly bracing himself for pain, but to his surprise, it didn't hurt. Gradually he opened his eye and saw you smiling at him with tenderness.

"Better?" you asked softly. He gave a small nod of his head, and from that moment forward, you diligently applied the soothing ointment that had been provided by the maester.

You also encouraged him that he is still the great person he was before the accident. You stood by his side and helped him to overcome his insecurities, even going so far as to help him regain his confidence with a sword.

In fact, you just kept hitting him with the wooden sword until he had enough of it and finally picked up a wooden sword and hit back. It was a challenging process, but you never stopped encouraging him to keep going but to continue now more than ever. To learn anew how he has to attack with the sword. At what angle the opponent must never stand so that he could see him well. And he did not give up.

During the day you encouraged him and at night you held him.

You still went to the dragonpit together regularly. But now Vhagar was with you. Together you often rode your dragons. Vhagar is bigger than Blackfyre, but not by much. Together you explored the skies. Only the rumbling of the dragons and your giggling could be heard from the air. Often you sat in the dragonpit afterwards. You had been lying in the dirt, hiding behind your dragons. But you enjoyed it. You sat there for hours and imagined all the things you wanted to discover. Where you wanted to travel. Of course you want to explore everything with your dragons. Perhaps one day you will fly to Essos. See the remains of Valyria.

When you are six and ten years old, you have been named heir to the throne. You have been chosen as the successor to your mother's throne, which comes as a surprise to you. Even though you are the eldest child, you had always assumed that your younger sibling Jace would inherit the crown. You're now uncertain about whether you're ready to take on the responsibilities of ruling as queen.

Aemond was still very close to you. You even sleep in bed together from time to time. It's just that it's felt a little different now. You had noticed that you often just look at him. As soon as you noticed it, you felt uncomfortable and your cheeks turned red.

Aemond was a little more subtle in his approach. He liked to watch you when you were asleep. When the moon shone into the room and made your silver hair glow. Sometimes he even dared to gently stroke your cheek. Just so he could see you gently wrinkling your nose in your sleep.

When you received the news that you were to become queen, you went straight to Aemond. Aemond was very happy for you, as usual. And in the evening, he surprised you. He came into your chambers through the secret passages, carrying two wine jugs.

"We must celebrate your becoming heir to the throne," he grinned at you. You had to chuckle softly.

You drank almost all the wine and lay together on your bed. Not a minute passed in silence, you talked the whole time. Until he suddenly looked straight at you, "You know... I like to watch you sleep..," His cheeks were red from all the wine, but you saw them get even redder, "..Because when you lie on this side in bed..", He pointed with his hand to the side of the bed facing the window, "..the moon shines on you... And...", he paused and you looked into each other's eyes. He sighed quitley.

"I love you... y/n.. I don't know since when... But... it feels like...", but you just kissed him.

He was irritated at first, but didn't hesitate long and returned the kiss. His lips felt warm and soft. The taste of the wine was on his lips. Your lips were sore and red when you first broke the kiss. You just looked at each other and smiled. You have not said much. Aemond's hand was on your cheek. Slowly he stroked your cheek with his fingers. His thumb gently caressed your lips. Until he leaned forward again and you kissed once more. You couldn't ignore the warmth and pinching between your thighs any longer and slid closer to him. But you broke the kiss again. You looked at each other, your breathing was rapid. Aemond gently stroked your arms. No one said anything. You looked deep into each other's eyes and somehow it seemed clear, you both wanted the same thing. Aemond kissed you gently and rolled onto you carefully. As he lay on top of you and pressed his hips against you, you felt something hard. It pressed right against your warm core. But it felt strangely good when Aemond pressed his hips against you. A soft moan came from you.

That night you sleep together. He was your first man. You were both inexperienced and so you both explored your bodies together. You undressed each other. You let your hands wander over each other's bodies. Every time your hands discovered a new spot, soft moans and gasps filled your chambers. You giggled a lot and kissed a lot more. It was indescribably beautiful. The act itself, when he was finally inside you, didn't last long. But you will never forget how much you felt connected to him all the time.

Aemond held you all night. He lay close to your back. You felt his chest against your body. How it slowly rose and fell. Again and again he gently kissed your neck.

The next morning, as usual, he was no longer there. At dawn he always left your chambers secretly so as not to be caught.

At noon a servant came to you, your mother wished to see you. When you arrived to meet her, she informed you that you would be temporarily relocating to Dragonstone. While she didn't provide any specific reasons, she did explain that this would be an opportunity for you to receive the necessary training and preparation to eventually assume the throne.

But you did not want to go.

"Mother... no... I will not leave the capital," you told her.

"Yes, you will. On Dragonstone you will be prepared to rule the realm one day"

You snorted, "Why can't I be prepared for that here? Here, I could see first-hand how the decisions of the realm are made"

You felt yourself getting angry.

Your mother had shaken her head slightly, "To understand these political decisions, you must first understand the political theories on which these decisions are based. Then you can deal with making decisions. And on Dragonstone, you don't need to fear any distractions"

Tears came to your eyes. But you refused to cry now. You knew your mother and the look in her eyes. The discussion was over.

You went to see Aemond. In his chambers you told him about it.

He simply looked at you. For the first time you could not interpret the look on his face.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked quietly.

Silence reigned in his chambers.

"I... I don't know... My mother said it would be the right thing... To prepare me for my regency... I... I don't know...", you were unsettled.

Aemond clenched his hands into fists, "But you must know if you want to go!"

Aemond was feeling very worried and anxious. He was afraid of losing you because you were the most important and positive aspect of his life.

"Then tell me to stay!" you suddenly shouted at him. You were angry. Those you don't want to hear it from tell you what to do. And the one person you wish would tell you what to do doesn't tell you what to do... that you should stay.

But he just looks at you, "You know I can't do that... I can't say that... You have to do what is right," he said almost coldly. He had to pull himself together not to cross the room, to take you in his arms. He wanted you to stay... that he was the right one for you.

But you understood it differently. That he didn't want you to stay.

So you just nodded, "Very well... If that's what you want. Then I'll go"

Tears welled up in your eyes. He said your name, but you just left his chambers.

That night Aemond did not come to your chambers.

You spend the next few years on Dragonstone. You actually had enough time there to prepare for your duties as queen by studying and learning political theory. However, you can't help but wonder if you could have achieved the same level of preparation by staying in King's Landing and discussing these topics with Aemond…

You miss Aemond. Terribly much. Your memories of your last night together are beautiful, but the fact that you were torn apart makes it all the more difficult to bear. You often lie awake for hours. You long for the times when Aemond would come to your bed and you could talk for hours. You miss his embrace... Whenever you receive a letter from King's Landing, you hope to hear something about Aemond, but unfortunately, you don't get any news. You're afraid to reach out to him because you don't want to be rejected, even though you can't stand the silence.

Meanwhile, Aemond is suffering just as much as you are. He longs for you and misses you dearly. He can't sleep at night because he constantly thinks about you. He is restless at night. He is restless because he yearns for your physical presence - your body, warmth, and gentle breathing beside him.

He needs your presence and comfort by his side. He remembers when he told you to do the right thing and go away, and those words still haunt him to this day. He wishes he could take it back and instead ask you to stay.

But now the time had come for you to go back to King's Landing. Your grandsire, King Viserys, is getting worse and your mother is to take the throne after his death. The flight to King's Landing is quiet. The wind blows through your hair as you watch the water pass beneath you. Blackfyre enjoys the flight. Your brothers and your stepfather Daemon are flying with you. And then you see it in the distance. The walls of the capital appear in the distance.

Aemond is in the library. He is sitting by the window reading a book. When a shadow passes in the sky, he looks up. He sees a big dragon in the sky and it is not Vhagar. A smile curls his lips. He is paralysed for a moment, but then he slams the book shut and gets up from his chair.

As you and your family are welcomed into the courtyard, Queen Alicent and Princess Helaena smile at you. Aemond is not to be seen. You smile politely, but the thought spreads through your mind that Aemond might not want to see you.

But Aemond is too excited. His hands tremble slightly. Like the night you made love for the first time. He walks towards the dragonpit, he wants to ride Vhagar. But when he arrives at the dragonpit, he is distracted. He sees Blackfyre and has to smile. He pauses for a moment as Blackfyre slowly turns her head in his direction. Cautiously, he walks towards Blackfyre, slowly raising his hand. She recognises him and grumbles slightly. As he stands beside her, he gently strokes her neck. He immediately feels her warmth flooding his palm.

"Rytsas gevie...", he whispers (Hello beautiful). She grumbles slightly again.

"Gaomagon ao remember nyke?" he says softly with a smile on his lips (Do you remember me)

When suddenly another voice sounds.

"Sīr ao sepār dekuragon bē naejot iā strange zaldrīzes?" you stand behind him (So you just step up to a strange dragon)

He stiffens for a moment.

"Issa daor bona strange..," he replies without turning around (She's not that strange..)

You have to smile as he slowly turns around. He smiles too and you are speechless. He has grown into an impressive man. Even through his clothes you can see that his slim, tall body must have more muscles. His hair is longer and falls over his shoulder. It is tied slightly so that it does not fall in his face. The scar looks much better, it seems to have healed.

"Have you taken care of your scar?" you ask gently.

He nods slightly. The smile does not leave his lips.

"With the ointment... that I... applied every night?", you whisper.

He nods again, "The maesters wanted to try another one in the meantime... But I didn't want to..." he says softly.

You smile softly.

He slowly approaches you and takes you in his arms without hesitation. You put your arms around his body.

"I missed you," he whispers.

You just nod, wanting to hold back the tears.

After a while he leans back, looks you in the face, "And... have you learned how to rule?" he smiles at you.

You laugh lightly, "Oh get ready for something... my brain has been fed so much information..."

He chuckles softly, "I'm curious..."

You sit down behind Blackfyre, leaning against the walls of the dragonpit and talk. Just like you did when you were children.

When all of a sudden he looks at you, "You know... So much has happened. In the time that you weren't there"

You nod slightly, "I know..." you say softly.

He lets his hands slide over his thighs and sighs. His gaze is fixed on the floor, "I am to wed a Baratheon daughter," he says softly.

It is quiet in the dragonpit. Your chest tightens. It is hard for you to breathe. You have expected this, but still you do not know how to deal with it.

As he slowly turns his gaze to you to see your reaction, you just nod slowly.

Tears welling up in your eyes. Your eyes burn and your throat tightens. You clear your throat. You don't want him to see you like this. When he looks at the floor again, you quickly wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

After a few moments you catch yourself, "And...? Do you want to wed her?" you ask quietly.

He snorts, "You know very well that I don't want to..."

You nod again, "Yes... But we have to do what's right..."

You look at him and he looks you straight in the eye. At first you see pure pain in his gaze, when suddenly his gaze warms.

He nods slowly, "Fuck it, yeah. I have to do the right thing," he says suddenly.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. The love he had for you inside him had build to its maximum, beyond the point of logic or reason, and he gave himself over to you. His mind and heart become one as the two of you kissed. The world around you seemed to disappear, and all that mattered was the feeling of your body against his, and the taste of your lips against his.

You are startled at first. You feel the emotions in this kiss, how Aemond gives himself to you. But you can't help yourself, you return his kiss and pull him towards you. His hand is on your neck, his thumb gently strokes your cheek as he deepens the kiss. His touch... his hand on your neck, his lips on yours... It is all you feel. He is so close to you in that moment. Your lips, your mouths... You breath your breath into each other's. There are no word's, there is only your kiss.

Slowly you undo the buckles of his waistcoat. You interrupt the kiss. Your lips are reddish from your passionate kisses. You kiss gently along his jaw, down to his neck. nibbling lightly on the soft skin. You hear him moan lightly. Your breath is warm against his neck and your lips on his skin were like a flame.

He takes your face in his hands, you look into each other's eyes. You are breathing heavily. He pulls you close, gently kisses your nose. His hands slide from your face down to your shoulders, slowly he starts to open your dress. Gently he slips your dress over your shoulder. His lips follow his fingers. Soft kisses find their way onto your collarbone. He slides your dress further down and his lips leave a fiery trail on your skin. You moan softly as his lips are on your breast, gently cupping your nipple. He moves his tongue over one of your nipples before taking it into his mouth. You gasp out and again a moan comes from your lips. Gently he sucks on the sensitive skin. His teeth lightly graze your nipple and he bites down gently. You hiss slightly and your hands slide into his hair, you grab him by the hair and pull him closer to you.

His hands pull your dress further down. You feel your arousal rising between your legs. You press your thighs together a little, hoping to experience some satisfaction. You take his face in your hands, pull him to you and kiss him greedily, you are panting. You feel him grinning against your lips. Carefully you bite his lip. He hisses and you chuckle lightly. Your hands slide down his chest and undo more buckles on his waistcoat. He takes off his waistcoat and lays it on the dusty ground. You sit down on the waistcoat and watch him take off his vest. Your gaze immediately falls on his upper body. On his soft skin that now has a few more scars. But you also notice that his upper body is really more defined. You bite your lip lightly. You take hold of his neck and pull him towards you. Wild kisses of a dance of tongues and teeth follow. Blackfyre moves slightly beside you. But she turns a little further in front of you so that you are shielded from all possible glances and her gaze is directed towards the entrance.

Aemond gently pushes you to the ground and kneels between your legs. His kisses become softer and you feel him gently slide his fingers up your thigh. You moan into his mouth as his fingers slide through your wet folds without warning.

"Mmmh... you really missed me," he says softly.

You try to bite his lip again, but he pulls his head away quickly enough and grins. Instead he lets his fingers continue to slide through your folds, spreading your arousal along them. You whimper.

He kisses you again as he leaves gentle but firm circles on your pearl. Your breathing becomes heavier.

"Aemond... please..." you gasp against his lips.

His fingers are instantly away from your folds and you hear a buckle open. Almost immediately you feel the tip of his hard cock slide through your folds. His gaze is fixed precisely on the tip of his cock soaking itself with your arousal. He groans at the sight. He looks at you again and sees you biting your lower lip. He leans forward, devouring more of your kisses. Slowly he pushes forward, guides his hot length into you. You both moan as he pushes further in. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size. Slowly he pushes forward, he gasps.

"Seven hells... you're so tight," he whispers, breathing heavily.

You only whimper. The feeling of him filling you completely is overwhelming.

He continues to thrust, penetrating you further with each thrust. You move your hips rhythmically towards him to meet his thrusts on the way. His thrusts get harder and your breasts bounce every time his pelvis slams into yours. He grunts deeply and grips one of your breasts with his hand. Lightly he squeezes it and bends down. His thrusts don't let up as he encircles your nipple again with his mouth. You cry out and grab his arms.

He looks up at you, "My love... do you want us to get caught?" he whispers.

You bite your lips. He turns his attention back to your nipple. Lets his tongue glide gently around before he nibbles lightly on it again. He moans softly as he notices your walls clench slightly around him. He lets go of your nipple and kisses you again. He leans back a little, gently grips your thigh and wraps it around his waist. You cry out again and try to muffle it in his neck. His thrusts become harder. His eye is closed and he moans deeply as he buries himself in you to the hilt of his cock. Again and again he pushes against your sweet spot. You lie under him and just whimper. You reach for his arms and dig your fingernails into his biceps. "Aemond..." you gasp, "deeper..."

He opens his eye, but the purple in his eye is almost unrecognisable. His eye is blown with lust. Wordlessly he takes your leg from his hip and places it along his torso. Your foot rests on his shoulder and he leans further down towards you.

"Oooh... Fuuuck...", you gasp.

Each thrust hurts, but the pain feels so good. You are convinced that he is going to split you. With a brutal speed, he thrusts into you. With each thrust, his balls slap against your ass and are soaked with your arousal. You whimper as you feel the pressure building in your lower belly.

"I... I'm... so close..." you moan.

Aemond reaches between your bodies and applies pressure to your clit. He notices you clenching hard around his cock.

"Love... come... cum on my cock...", he grunts deeply.

With that he pushes you over the edge. You cry out. He tries to muffle your moans by enclosing your lips with his. Your fingers dig deep into his shoulder. Your walls want to pull his cock in further, want to milk him. He feels his balls twitch. He pulls his cock out of you as he feels his cock start to twitch too. You whimper slightly at the sudden emptiness. He moans and grunts deeply, spreading his seed in the dirt beside you. You are both breathing heavily. Slowly you let your leg slide off his shoulder. Aemond smiles at you, breathing heavily. He looks exhausted, but he is smiling. He lies down beside you.

You look at him and whisper, breathing heavily, "That was better than the first time"

You look at each other for a moment before you both laugh. You turn to him and he puts his arms around you.

After a while, you look up at him, "And... have you seen your betrothed yet?"

He chuckles softly, "No... not yet..."

You smile slightly, "Will you..."

"...I'm not going to wed her," he interrupts you. You look at him, he gently strokes your cheek.

"I don't know how yet. But I will talk to my mother... I..." you notice how he is almost hesitant, almost shy.

"You want to ask if you can wed me?" you ask softly.

He looks at you slightly uncertainly, "Well... If... If you don't want to..."

You just kiss him, "Silly boy..." you whisper.

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@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemond-targaryenx @praline357

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rafescurtainbangz · 19 days

Text

A Milkmaid Sundress - Rafe Cameron

curvy!femalereader +18ish fluffy💕

This is part 1 of my Lost Asks Series where I do my best to recall the 20 asks I lost 😭

Anon Ask: best friend Rafe who has always had a thing for the reader

Unedited

Short (sorry I don't have a word count)

Rafe’s lashes beat just before clearing his throat, his ocean eyes floating between your gaze and your lips dipping lower from time to time when he thinks you won’t notice. The outfit was intentional, picked just for him, your body wearing like it was meant to be worn. Rafe rests his large hand on your lower back, watching your body arch ever so slightly; the curves of your breasts even more pronounced, making him shift in his pressed blue slacks.

Of course, he had to tell you something intimate, nothing out of the ordinary considering you’re best friends, intimacy coming by way of his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his strong chest presses against your breast. His voice is gravelly and soft, raspy in a way that tickles your ear, making you turn your cheek into him even more as he tells you about some drama between Topper and his new girl. He thought he was being slick, the blonde tugging lightly at the strings of the bow that sat prettily between your breasts. It was just light enough that he assumed you wouldn't notice but you did, after you waited for him to mention it first. Rafe rolls out the tension in his neck as he catches sight of your delicate lace bra, thinking to himself how satisfying it would be to tear it before tearing into you. The sexual tension alone leaving him on edge.

His eyes never leave you as you step away from the bar, wandering toward the bathroom as the material moves with you. Your plump ass bounces with each step you take, the nervous rapping of his ringed-finger on the wood bartop keeping time with your steps.

Would this be the moment that he made a move? Maybe he could catch you in the hallway before you came back?

He surveys the scene before strutting just a few steps, his jaw clenching at the opportunity lost as he catches sight of you. His eyes roll back as he takes you in for what seems like the first time as his focus falls to the bottom. The high slit up the middle of your thigh taunts him with every movement as you walk closer and closer. Rafe, not realizing he was holding his breath until you opened your mouth.

“I have to go,” you sigh. Rafe’s whole demeanor shifts, thinking the two of you would spend the afternoon with your friends sipping drinks.

“You sure?” He asks as his hand lands on your hip, making him even more desperate as he feels the warmth of your skin underneath.

“Sorry,” you breathe patting his chest and walking away.

It's like you can feel his eyes on you, studying you until you fall out of view. You smile to yourself biting your lip as you watch the text message that you sent in the bathroom shift from unread to read. Wanna get outta here? Finishing it all off with a picture of your pretty laced-covered tits and glossed pout.

You step out of the country club and into the parking lot, heels clicking against the cobblestone walk for not but two seconds until you’re pulled back. Rafe claims your lips, hands cupping your cheeks as your wide-eyed flutter shut. It's a deep, passionate kiss, the kinda of kiss you’ve been wanting from him for years. Rafe pulls away for a moment, a soft breath and a smile felt against your lips, just a caesura before going in for more. His large hands hug your ribs; thumbs brushing the bottom of your breasts before finding their final resting place just above your ass, bunching the material just enough to tease.

“Let's get outta here, princess.”

Hi! If you don't see your name on here the username wasn't populating an account 💕 if you would like to sign up again or let me know I can add you

@voyeurmunson @romaescapes @gri959 @redhead1180 @h34rtsformilli @joannamuns9n @marahgubler @dckweed @humanvampire13 @drewstarkeyslut @juniebugg @wearemadeofstardust0 @imbabycowboy @rafesgiirl @cutielando @rafedrewandjjs @rafesthroatbaby @999ares9996 @oxpogues4lifexo @chiaraanatra @drewswifeeee @theoraekenslover @kisses4angel @beth-gallagher22 @oxpogues4lifexo @niyahnotnia

#rafe cameron #rafecore #outer banks #drew starkey #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron x you #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron drabble #rafe blurb #rafe cameron one shot #rafe x fem!reader #soft rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe smut #rafe cameron x me #rafe cameron x fem!reader

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roseychains · 20 days

Text

Make him jealous ~

A/n: entirely self indulgent.

C/w: written by a minor!, porn with minimal plot, marking, nipple play, fingering, oral (r!receiving), kissing, praise, gentle, idfk.

2 weeks. That’s exactly how long it had been since your now ex had suddenly cut contact with you. A long relationship you poured your heart into for months, gone without a second though, leaving you void, unable to enjoy anything. It was like you were a shell of the fun loving person you used to be. The joy sucked out, and all that remained was a sad, confused girl who was all but betrayed by the man she loved the most.

You hardly made it through the day without tearing up atleast a little. Everything hurt. It hurt even more when your friend, shoko, has shown you photos of your ex and his new girl. Cuddling in bed, his arm around her waist it was sensual. Your frustrations came pouring out to her. It hurt that you meant so little to him, he could move on so quick, he wasn’t hurting like you were. You wanted him to care, to hurt, to be jealous.

The topic continued to your lunch break, where you met up with 2 more of your colleagues, Gojo and geto. Your frustration seemed to radiate to the rest of the group, the 3 of them vocalizing their distain for the man, that you deserve better, he deserves to hurt, it’s almost like they wanted him to suffer more than you. But in truth, you just wanted him to realize what he lost, to make him jealous.

The sexual tension was thick. Talking about how you needed someone to mark you up and post it on media, to be fucked till you forget, to feel loved again, right in front of your 3 friends, all eyeing you like hungry predators ready to devour their prey. They were so tired of seeing you sad, watching as you slowly lost motivation and will power for all the thighs you used to love. So if anyone was going to do something about it, let it be them. They will make you feel better, like friends do.

Eventually, Gojo took the initiative to finally offer up his services. “I mean, you know the three of us would be more than happy too, you just say the word it will all be yours~” you felt yourself twitch with excitement, almost like a fantasy, to be in between the most attractive people you know. It wasn’t just you, they wanted you too, maybe even more so. Anything for their dear friend.

Finally, the trio came to a plan. They were going to dress you up, take you out, feed you, and fuck you till you feel nothing but pleasure. Then hold you tight till you fall asleep together. It began Saturday morning, breakfast Gojo paid for. You ordered pancakes, that satoru ended up sneaking a few bites of. Next, you were off to the mall.

It was fun, riding the carousel, getting small snacks here and there, but the real event was when you made it over to a high end store with gorgeous dresses. The boys had ran off, but shoko kept her hand in yours guiding you through the store and picking out dresses for you to try. She even came in the changing room to help you sip them, and give you her opinion.

One thing lead to another, she found herself getting handsy with your delicate body, her hands that had previously helped you slip in and out of your clothes was now tracking down your abdomen and dangerously close to your heat, covered only by lacey panties. You gasped as she began toying with your clit through the fabric, her other hand coming up to cover your mouth. “You wouldn’t want to get caught right? Be a good girl and keep it down”, she’d whisper sensually in your ear.

Her words shot right down to your cunt, throbbing with need. She wasted no time to slip her long fingers inside the hem, now. Rubbing them along your slit, feeling your wetness. “Your so fucking wet, my fingers are drenched baby. I can tell you want this.” You felt your eyes roll back against your skull as she plunged two long fingers inside your hole, giving you only a moment to adjust before roughly curling them inside you repeatedly.

Her assault on your core had your legs weak, threatening to fall down. “Careful, baby.” As she helped you to the small chair, fingers still deep inside you. She moves her mouth to leave small love bites on your neck, proof of what the two of you had done in the dressing room. Your hands flew up to hold on her shoulders as you felt yourself reaching your high. “Are you close? Go on then. Let me feel you.”

Your legs shook as you came on her fingers, and your sounds where muffled by her hand covering your mouth. After you came down from your orgasm, dress long forgotten, you put your clothes back on and left with the dress that you and liked the most, face still red and flustered from your exchange in the dressing room. Shoko held your hand as you made your way back to the boys.

The marks on your neck where painfully present, “with out me?” Gojo whined, earning him a smack on the side from geto. “Today isn’t about you, satoru. Anyway, shall we, princess?” His gaze, now back on you offering a gentle hand as you continued your day, until yourself and the trio made your way to the club. After sitting at the bar for a minute, drink in hand you made your way to the floor with the boys, shoko content with her drink.

You were face to face with Gojo, and his hand caressed your face. “You look so beautiful tonight, you know that?” Brushing the hair of your face with his fingers. You giggled and thanked him. He grabbed your chin, and leaned down into your ear, “I can’t wait to show you just how beautiful I think you are~” you felt shivers run up your spine, ones that where only exemplified as you felt a second pair of hands meet on your hips, getos face on the other side of your face behind you.

You were sandwiched between the two large men, you felt your heart facing. There hands roamed your body as much as public decency would allow them, peppering you with gentle kisses on your jawline and collar. As the night went on, the two men could feel themselves losing restraint, shoko getting needy as well. And after a few hours, they escorted you back to the car where the three of you arrived at the closest house, gojos, and hurried inside.

As soon as all of you stepped in, Gojos lips where immediately on yours, practically moaning into your mouth. Geto pulled him off, “let’s take this upstairs. Tonight is all about you, baby.” He picked you up bridal style the other two close behind, and paced to the master bedroom, an Alaskan king easily enough for the four of you. Conferring with you one last time that this was what you wanted, their clothes were being tossed on the floor. You moved your hands to lift up your dress, but Gojo quickly grabbed your wrists. “Let us do it, you don’t have to move a muscle tonight for that?” You nodded, as geto grabbed your dress lifting it over your head, and shoko unclamped your bra, your breasts falling on your chests. You were then layed on your back, and your stocking pulled off your legs, leaving you bare in front of them.

Shoko was the first to move. She grabbed your face and kissed you passionately, tongue diving into your mouth. she then trailed kissed down your neck before reaching your tits. “Fucking gorgeous girl.” She popped one of your buds into her mouth, swirling it around while grabbing your other, fondling your chest.

Meanwhile, the boys layed down settled between your legs, your thighs on either side of their faces. With one hand, both held up your leg and started on your thighs, kissing and sucking on them before they both meet at your heat. Suguru went first, pressing a kiss too your clit before taking the bud into his mouth, “mmm s’ good” he mumbled into your cunt. Satoru took his fingers up to your hole, teasing your entrance before gently pushing in two fingers, making your back arch into shoko. “Careful, sweetie. Tell me if you need anything to change mkay?” Gojo reassured as he began pumping his fingers in and out.

Shoko continued her work on your chest, occasionally letting up to take your mouth in hers, sucking up all your moans, when she remembered your earlier words, reaching for her phone. She held it up enough to show off all the marks on your neck and collar, without getting your boobs in the shot. She snapped the photo, kissed your cheek and hit post.

Geto was making sloppy work of your cunt, eating you out like his life depends on it. His moth was ravenous, mumbling praises here and there relishing in your taste. “Could eat you like this forever, fuck.” Satoru was busy fingering you and kissing every inch of your body, his other hand rubbing gentle shapes into your thigh. “You’re so fucking pretty. We don’t deserve you.”

The combination of stimulation quickly accumulated, you tried to let out a warning before you came, shaking and arching off the bed. On nights like these, one time was enough, and you just wanted to sleep now.

“Do you want a bath? Something to drink?” Geto questioned. “No,” you murmured, “just get me some clothes and hold me till I’m asleep.” And so they did. You lay in the middle, shoko cradling you on one side, satoru the other, and geto holding onto both you and shoko.

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ilypaigebuckets · 28 days

Note

could you write something about Caitlin based on so high school by Taylor?

literally same wavelength bc i was thinking abt writing this last night that’s crazy!!! i hope you like it! as always my reqs are open for you guys :) feel free to request any scenarios, hcs, prompts, etc <3

pairing: cc x reader

plot summary: caitlin gets asked a question about her girlfriend at a post game interview and it takes her back to her high school years with you.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

“So Caitlin,” an interviewer questions, “you were on fire tonight on the court. What gives you that drive and that power to keep pushing through?” Caitlin tightened her ponytail and cocked her head to the side, thinking of an answer.

“I couldn’t have done it without the support of my family, teammates and of course my Coach. But there’s something else, well someone else, that definitely has played a huge part into my success over the years. My beautiful girl Y/N. She’s supported me through everything, ever since I’ve known her. She’s just this ball of sunshine that’s just..just my everything. She’s been my biggest supporter and being around her just makes me feel like so..i don’t know so high school, I guess?” Caitlin chuckles at the end of her sentence, thinking back to get when first fell for you

I. I want to find you in a crowd just to hide from you.

It was your junior year of high school when you started to get close with Caitlin. You were a new student and had sat by her in her chem class. She took a liking to you immediately. You weren’t exactly the science type, your forte being more English and History; Language composition, Aristotle, socratic seminars, those were your thing. You came right as basketball season was starting and Caitlin saw this as a perfect opportunity to get closer with the pretty girl in her chem.

“Hey! Super random but are you a basketball fan?” Caitlin questioned you, “I have a game today if you want come”.

“I mean it’s not really my thing, but I’d love to come support you!” You replied cheerfully.

Fast forward to the game, your schools team won 58-67, thanks to Caitlin and her amazing skills.

Caitlin’s teammates surrounded her, but all she could think about was the pretty girl in her chemistry class that came to watch her. Just her. She searched for you in the crowd until she finally saw you. She was to scared for your eyes to meet, and quickly looked away. She hurried back to the locker room with her cheeks pink underneath the gymnasium’s twinkling lights. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and checked her phone.

Y/N💕

you were great tonight! thanks for the invite ;)

Caitlin buried her head in her hands. You were going to be the death of her.

2. I’ll drink what you think and I’m high

Later that year, Caitlin took you out to a house party. She thought it would be a great way to get you out of your shell and meeting new people. Not in a romantic sense of course, she already had dibs on you and everyone except her knew it.

At the party you both declined any drinks offered to you, wanting to stay clean and level headed for your first official “hangout” together. Despite staying sober, Caitlin was cracking up at every one of your jokes. You continued them just to see her smile.

“Wonder how much Cait’s had to drink.” One of her teammates said. “Not a drop,” another replied.

The latter was right. Caitlin Clark was simply drunk on love.

3. Are you gonna Marry, Kiss, or Kill me?

The end of your junior year, Caitlin took you to another party. You two were crushing and crushing hard, but hadn’t made anything official yet.

One of your mutual friends suggested you play a game of kiss, marry, kill and being bored out of your minds, you all complied. “So Y/N, kiss, marry, kill. Caitlin, Alexis, and Joshua.” You didn’t skip a beat and replied instantaneously.

“Easy peasy. Cait for all three.”

“WHAT?!” Caitlin shrieked, “You wanna kill me?!” looking at you with an expression of mock horror.

“Well, you can’t pick 2 and not the other. So technically I have no other choice.” You looked at her sweetly.

“Actually I think the point of the game is you assign one name to either kiss, marry, or kill.” Your mutual friend started, “But I’ll let it slide for you two lovebirds.”

4. Touch me while your boys play GTA.

It was your high school senior year. Caitlin’s basketball team was having a relaxed hangout at her house, playing video games. You had made your relationship official over the summer, and were excited to see what this school year had in store for you both.

You and Caitlin were snuggled up together under a blanket on her couch, while her teammates sat on the ground below playing Grand Theft Auto, a game you knew nothing about. You and Caitlin stared at each other intensely and suddenly you jumped in your seat. The hand on your thigh had shocked you, Caitlin had always seemed so PG to you. You looked up at her with an “are you crazy?!” look on your face. She used her free hand to put up her pointer finger to her mouth as if to shush you.

You weren’t quick ready to take things further than that, never having had anybody the way you’d had her before. She of course respected you and gave you a kiss on the forehead, and then proceeded to get up. “Okay guys, time for me to show you why Y/N calls me the Grand Theft Auto Annihilator.”

“Dude. I have never in my life thought about calling you that.”

5. I’m hearing voices, like a madman.

Freshman year of college and you both had committed to the University of Iowa. The two of you had, of course, decided to room together, and were happy and content with how everything had worked out for you too.

Living together proved to be somewhat challenging at first, with Caitlin being quite messy with her things. She was usually level-headed and wasn’t one to start fights, but God forbid you mention something about her not keeping her side of your room clean. Her D1 ego would not allow you to.

That day you two had bickered about Caitlin not doing the dishes like she’d promised to. “Caitlin. There’s literally 3 dishes in the sink, and you said you’d do them. C’mon man.” You said to her, half joking in an attempt to get her to listen without arguing. But Caitlin had already had a stressful morning and was not in the mood. “I’ll do them after,” She spoke curtly. “I have practice.” She jumped up, grabbed her bag, and stalked out of the dorm.

During practice, she was a mess. She kept missing shots. “Serves her right,” She thought to herself, “Little Miss ‘Oh I’m Y/N yes I’m so clean and proper lalalala-” Caitlin paused as she realized how absolutely ridiculous she sounded. She reminded herself of you whenever you did impressions of your dad. In an instant she busted into a fit of giggles, sharing her thought with her teammates so they could laugh too.

After practice, she came straight home to your shared dorm and spent the rest of the night making it up to you with a movie night filled with popcorn, candy, and most importantly a clean sink.

Caitlin snapped back into the present as the interviewer finished her thought, “It sure seems like your girlfriend Y/N has played a huge role in not only your life on the court but also off of it. How sweet! Where is she tonight?”

“She’s actually…” Caitlin turned around to look for you, and saw you walking past her to Kate wearing one of her jersey’s. She softly grabbed your arm and pulled you into the camera’s view. “She’s right here! Hi baby!” Caitlin gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before turning her attention back to the interview.

“So Y/N, in your eyes how do you think Caitlin did tonight?” The interviewer now questioned you.

You took a moment to think and then smiled, “Amazing as always. She’s always been amazing. Ever since high school where I met her.”

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #paige bueckers

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rafesapologist · 2 months

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eternal sunshine of a spotless mind ─ rafe cameron; part I

summary: you and rafe were star-crossed lovers, which is why you needed to forget him.

warnings: mentions of substance use, alcohol use, swearing

author's note: welcome to my new series!! some aspects of this story will be au, given the concept of the story itself. also, please let me know at any time if you'd like to be added to the taglist. thank u!

In the cozy confines of your bedroom, surrounded by the chatter and laughter of your friends, you stood before the mirror, your outfit meticulously chosen for the night ahead. The short denim skirt hugged your curves, accentuating your figure, while the tube top added a touch of effortless allure. You couldn't help but scrutinize your reflection, searching for any flaws or imperfections that might mar your appearance.

Turning to your friends, you sought their opinions with a hint of nervous anticipation. "So, what do you guys think?" you asked, a faint blush tinting your cheeks as you awaited their verdict.

Your friends crowded around you, their eyes appraising your outfit with a mix of admiration and excitement. "Girl, you look amazing!" exclaimed one of them, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "That skirt is everything."

Another friend chimed in, nodding in agreement. "Seriously, you're going to turn heads tonight," she said, her tone filled with confidence. As their words washed over you like a wave of affirmation, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Maybe, just maybe, tonight would be the night you finally felt truly confident in your own skin. And with your friends by your side, anything felt possible.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you allowed the affirmations of your friends to wash over you, their words a balm to soothe the lingering doubts that had plagued you since the breakup with your ex-boyfriend. For the past two weeks, you had been trapped in a shell of self-doubt and insecurity, the pain of the breakup weighing heavily on your heart.

But tonight was different. Tonight was your chance at redemption, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had clouded your spirits. With each encouraging word from your friends, you felt a spark of confidence reigniting within you, dispelling the shadows of doubt that had held you captive for far too long.

Taking a deep breath, you met your own gaze in the mirror with newfound determination. Tonight, you would break free from the chains of heartache and insecurity. Tonight, you would embrace the person staring back at you with unapologetic pride.

With a smile, you turned to your friends, gratitude shining in your eyes. "Thank you," you said, your voice filled with sincerity. "For everything. Let's make tonight one to remember."

With anticipation buzzing in the air, you headed out the door, a sense of excitement coursing through your veins. Tonight wasn't just any night; it was your chance at redemption. With your friends by your side, you were ready to embrace whatever the evening had in store, confident in your ability to overcome any obstacle that came your way.

With a flurry of excitement, you and your friends hustled out the front door, the anticipation palpable in the air. Laughter and chatter filled the night as you made your way to the waiting Uber, its headlights casting a warm glow on the pavement. One by one, you all piled into the car, the familiar scent of perfume mingling with the promise of adventure.

As the engine hummed to life, the city lights blurred past the windows, painting streaks of color against the darkness of the night. The energy inside the car was electric, each shared glance and inside joke heightening the sense of camaraderie among you. With each passing moment, the anticipation grew, a silent promise of the memories waiting to be made.

With a mischievous grin, one of your friends produced shots of pink Whitney, passing them eagerly around the group. The vibrant hue of the drink seemed to shimmer in the dim light, a symbol of the wild night ahead. "To tonight!" they exclaimed, raising their shot glass in a toast.

You joined in, clinking your glass with those of your friends, the sound ringing out in the air. As you tipped back the shot, the liquid burned down your throat, igniting a fire that spread through your veins. But amidst the heat, you felt a surge of courage welling up inside you, a sense of invincibility that urged you to embrace the moment. With a satisfied sigh, you set down the empty shot glass, the taste of adventure lingering on your lips.

The Uber pulled to a stop outside a grand white mansion, its facade illuminated by the glow of party lights and pulsating music. From the outside, the place looked alive, teeming with energy as people spilled both indoors and out, their laughter mingling with the night air.

With a nod of thanks, you and your friends bid farewell to the Uber driver, his parting words a simple "Have a good night" that seemed to echo with the promise of the evening ahead. As the car pulled away, you took a moment to soak in the scene before you, the excitement building with each passing second.

With eager anticipation, you and your friends made your way up to the front door, the sound of music growing louder with each step. The air was thick with anticipation, the promise of the night hanging heavy around you like a veil of excitement. As you crossed the threshold into the mansion, the energy of the party washed over you like a tidal wave, enveloping you in a whirlwind of laughter and music.

As one of your friends disappeared into the swirling crowd with a determined shout of "I'm gonna go get drinks!", a knot of anxiety tightened in the pit of your stomach. Alone amidst the throng of partygoers, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping in.

The room was packed with people, their laughter and chatter blending into a cacophony of sound that filled the air. Everywhere you looked, there were faces you didn't recognize, each one lost in their own world of revelry and excitement.

The enormity of the party seemed to loom over you like a daunting challenge, threatening to swallow you whole amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces and pulsating music. For a moment, you felt a pang of doubt, wondering if you belonged in a place so bustling with life and energy.

Feeling lost in the sea of partygoers, you were suddenly jolted from your thoughts as another friend caught you out of your gaze with a playful nudge. Sensing your nervousness, she looked at you with a mischievous smirk, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I can see those nerves from a mile away," she teased, her tone laced with amusement. "But don't worry, I know just the cure for that."

Intrigued by her confident demeanor, you raised an eyebrow in curiosity, eager to hear what she had in mind. With a knowing glint in her eye, she beckoned you to follow her through the crowd, her steps purposeful as she led you towards a quieter corner of the room. As you followed in her wake, a sense of anticipation bubbled within you, wondering what she had planned to banish your nerves and inject some excitement into the night.

As you followed your friend into the living room, you found yourself swept into a scene of vibrant chaos. Groups of people clustered around the couch, their animated voices blending into a symphony of excitement. Laughter and cheers filled the air, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses and the thump of bass from the music.

Curiosity piqued, you furrowed your brows, wondering what had captured everyone's attention with such intensity. Pushing through the crowd, your friend leading the way, you edged closer, anticipation mounting with each step.

As you finally reached the heart of the gathering, you were met with a sight that both shocked and mesmerized you. A tall, dirty-blond haired boy stood before a coffee table, his figure outlined by the flickering light of the party. Beside him, a girl lay flat against the surface, her expression blissed out as she offered herself as a makeshift platform.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you realized what was unfolding before you. The boy leaned down with slow, deliberate movements, his fingers delicately tracing the lines of cocaine arranged on the table. With a steady hand, he brought the powder to his nose, inhaling deeply as if savoring the moment.

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their enthusiasm bordering on frenzy as they egged him on. It was a scene that seemed to exist in its own bubble of hedonistic euphoria, disconnected from the world outside the confines of the party.

Beside you, your friend's expression mirrored your own shock, her eyes wide with disbelief. In that moment, as the cheers of the crowd continued to reverberate around you, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease settling in the pit of your stomach. This was more than just a party; it was a glimpse into a world of excess and indulgence that you had only ever heard about in whispers. And as you stood there, a silent witness to the chaos unfolding before you, you couldn't help but wonder what other secrets lay hidden beneath the surface of the night.

"This is crazy," you murmured into your friend's ear, your voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. Shock and disbelief colored your words as you watched the scene unfold before you, unable to tear your eyes away from the spectacle.

Beside you, your friend's gaze remained fixed on the unfolding drama, her expression a mix of amusement and intrigue. It was almost as if she found the chaos before you entertaining, a spectacle to be enjoyed from a safe distance. You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping in at her reaction, a gnawing uncertainty that lingered in the back of your mind.

"Don't tell me you're thinking about doing this, Gia," you whispered to your friend, shaking your head in disbelief. The chaos unfolding before you was enough to make anyone's head spin, but the mischievous glimmer in her eyes hinted at a dangerous curiosity that sent a chill down your spine.

The idea of following suit, of diving headfirst into the reckless abandon on display, made your stomach churn with apprehension. This wasn't the kind of excitement you had signed up for, and you couldn't fathom why your friend would even consider such a risky endeavor.

But as you looked into her eyes, you realized that the allure of the moment was too strong to resist. The promise of adventure, of breaking free from the monotony of everyday life, beckoned to her like a siren's call, tempting her to throw caution to the wind and embrace the chaos unfolding before you.

With a resigned sigh, you knew that trying to dissuade her would be futile. The allure of the night was too powerful to ignore, and as much as you wished otherwise, you knew that she was determined to dive headfirst into whatever came her way.

As the cheers of the crowd continued to echo around you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation creeping in. This was a dangerous game they were playing, and you could only hope that they would emerge unscathed from the chaos that awaited them.

You met your friend's pleading gaze with a mixture of concern and disbelief. "Come on, Y/N, let's just try a little!" she urged, her voice tinged with excitement and anticipation.

A sense of apprehension gnawed at your insides as you hesitated, torn between the allure of the moment and the nagging voice of reason in the back of your mind. The idea of indulging in something so reckless and dangerous sent a shiver down your spine, but the pressure of the crowd and the promise of adventure weighed heavily on your shoulders.

With a reluctant sigh, you knew that resistance was futile. The energy of the party pulsed around you, intoxicating and electric, and the temptation to let go and lose yourself in the moment was too strong to ignore. Against your better judgment, you nodded hesitantly, steeling yourself for what was to come. This was a leap into the unknown, a step into the darkness that lay just beyond the edges of your comfort zone.

"Got room for two more?" Gia's voice cut through the chaos, her tone a mix of boldness and curiosity as she addressed the tall figure standing at the center of it all. His gaze snapped to her immediately, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he heard her plea.

The room seemed to hold its breath as all eyes turned to the interaction unfolding before them. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, a palpable tension hanging in the air as Gia awaited his response.

With a casual tilt of his head, the mysterious figure regarded Gia with amusement, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Depends," he replied, his voice smooth and confident. "What are you bringing to the table?"

The challenge in his words hung heavy in the air, a silent dare for Gia to prove herself worthy of joining the inner circle of the party's most daring participants. And as she met his gaze with unwavering determination, you couldn't help but feel a surge of apprehension mixed with excitement.

Gia's response was swift and flirtatious, a playful glint in her eyes as she offered up a proposition that left the mysterious figure chuckling in amusement. With a shake of his head, he motioned for her to join him, his expression a mix of sarcasm and intrigue.

"Well, aren't you confident?" he chuckled, his voice laced with amusement as he extended a hand towards her. "I like that."

Gia flashed him a dazzling smile, her confidence unwavering as she sauntered over to him, the excitement practically radiating off her. "You have no idea," she replied with a wink, her tone dripping with flirtatious charm.

As she settled into the seat beside him, the mysterious figure turned to her with a smirk, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "So, what's your name, fearless one?"

"Gia," she replied with a smirk of her own, her gaze locked with his. "And you?"

He chuckled at her boldness, leaning in closer as if to share a secret. "You can call me Rafe," he said, his voice low and smooth.

Meanwhile, you watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and apprehension, unsure of what was to come. Gia shot you an excited glance, urging you to join them, but you hesitated, feeling a subtle tug of resistance in the pit of your stomach.

Despite your reluctance, Gia grabbed your wrist with a firm grip, dragging you forward through the crowd with a determined resolve. As you reluctantly followed her lead, the energy of the party pulsed around you like a living, breathing entity, filling you with a heady mix of excitement and uncertainty.

As Gia pulled you from the safety of the crowd, you couldn't shake the sensation of being exposed, vulnerable to the scrutiny of not only the partygoers but especially the intense gaze of the boy she was flirting with. Heat flooded your cheeks, a telltale sign of your discomfort, as you felt the weight of his gaze on you like a physical presence.

Every step closer to the couch felt like a journey into the unknown, the intensity of the moment elevating your unease to new heights. The blond boy watched you intently, his eyes seeming to bore into your very soul as you made your way across the room.

You tried to maintain a facade of composure, but inside, your nerves were in turmoil. The unfamiliarity of the situation left you feeling exposed, a sense of vulnerability creeping in as you approached the couch where Gia and Rafe awaited.

With each passing moment, the tension in the air seemed to thicken, wrapping around you like a suffocating embrace. You couldn't help but wonder what lay in store as you finally reached the couch, the weight of Rafe's gaze still burning into you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"So, you two ever done this before?" Rafe's smirk widened, mischief dancing in his eyes as he lined up the lines of coke in front of him. The question hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating you with its implications.

A lump formed in your throat as you struggled to find the right words. The intensity of the moment seemed to amplify, the weight of Rafe's gaze bearing down on you like a tangible force. You glanced at Gia, searching for some semblance of reassurance, but she remained composed, her expression unreadable.

The lines of coke glistened under the dim lights, each one a stark reminder of the choices laid out before you. The air seemed to crackle with anticipation, a silent invitation to join in the reckless abandon unfolding before you.

With a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves, but the unease lingered, festering in the pit of your stomach like a dormant volcano. This was uncharted territory, a leap into the unknown that left you teetering on the edge of uncertainty.

As Rafe awaited your response, his smirk never faltering, you couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation creeping in. The allure of the moment was undeniable, but the consequences loomed ominously on the horizon, casting a shadow over the otherwise electric atmosphere of the party.

"Nope," your friend spoke up, her voice surprisingly chipper despite the gravity of the situation. A preppy tone laced her words, a stark contrast to the tension that hung thick in the air. You glanced at her, bewildered and confused, wondering why she was taking the lead in this precarious moment.

Her gaze remained fixed on Rafe, her expression unyielding as she perked up at the sight of the substance before them. It was as if she was playing a part, masking any hint of uncertainty with an air of nonchalance.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration and anxiety coursing through you. This wasn't the adventure you had signed up for, and yet here you were, dragged into a situation that left you feeling more exposed and vulnerable than ever.

As Rafe's smirk widened, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a dark cloud. The lines of coke gleamed under the dim lights, a silent temptation beckoning you to succumb to the chaos unfolding before you.

"Well, then which one of you wants to go first?" Rafe's voice cut through the tension, his smirk widening as he gestured towards the lines of cocaine laid out before them.

"I'll go first," Gia's unexpected eagerness to take the lead caught you off guard, her excitement palpable as she offered to go first. You couldn't help but look at her with a mixture of disbelief and concern, the weight of her decision settling heavily in the pit of your stomach.

Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, her expression filled with a reckless abandon that sent a shiver down your spine. It was as if she was oblivious to the risks involved, her eagerness blinding her to the potential consequences.

You opened your mouth to protest, to voice your concerns and urge her to reconsider, but the words caught in your throat. The intensity of the moment left you feeling powerless, a silent witness to the chaos unfolding before you.

With a sense of resignation, you watched as Gia leaned forward, her movements confident and deliberate as she prepared to indulge in the reckless abandon laid out before her. Despite the unease gnawing at your insides, you couldn't help but feel a pang of admiration for her fearlessness, even if it bordered on recklessness. As she prepared to take that fateful step, you couldn't shake the feeling of trepidation that settled over you like a heavy cloak.

You leaned in close, your voice barely a whisper as you voiced your concerns to Gia, asking if she really wanted to go through with this. But she brushed you off with a dismissive wave of her hand, her eyes focused solely on the line of cocaine laid out in front of her.

"Come on, Y/N, lighten up," she replied, her tone flippant as she waved off your concerns. "It's just a little fun."

Despite her attempts to downplay the gravity of the situation, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach. The reckless abandon with which she approached the moment left you feeling helpless, a silent observer to her descent into the unknown.

With a heavy heart, you watched as she leaned forward, her movements deliberate as she prepared to take that fateful step. A sense of resignation washed over you as you realized that there was nothing more you could do to stop her.

As she disappeared into the haze of the moment, you couldn't help but feel a sense of sorrow and regret wash over you. This wasn't the adventure you had signed up for, and yet here you were, powerless to stop the chaos unfolding before you.

You found yourself transfixed by the sight of Rafe, his piercing azure eyes alight with a malevolent gleam as he watched Gia succumb to his subtle persuasion. There was a dark elegance to his demeanor, a predatory grace that sent a shiver down your spine as you observed him orchestrating the unraveling of the night's delicate tapestry.

In the flickering light of the party, his features were cast in shadow, the lines of his face sharp and defined against the backdrop of chaos. There was an otherworldly quality to him, as if he were a puppet master pulling the strings of those around him with effortless finesse.

As Gia disappeared into the swirling haze of the substance, her movements becoming increasingly erratic, you couldn't help but feel a sense of sorrow wash over you. It was as if she had fallen under his spell, ensnared by the allure of the moment without a second thought for the consequences that awaited.

The air around you crackled with tension, thick with the weight of uncertainty and regret. This wasn't just a party; it was a descent into the depths of darkness, a journey into the unknown that left you feeling lost and adrift in a sea of swirling emotions.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched Gia succumb to the substance, her movements becoming increasingly erratic with each passing moment. A sense of dread washed over you as anxiety began to course through your body like a raging river, threatening to engulf you in its tumultuous currents.

Gia's groan of discomfort tore through the haze of the party, a stark reminder of the consequences of her impulsive decision. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the harsh reality of the situation in all its starkness.

As you glanced up, you found Rafe's piercing gaze fixed on you, his eyes burning with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine. It was as if he were waiting, biding his time to lure you into his web of deception and temptation.

A shiver ran down your spine as you realized the gravity of the situation. You were teetering on the edge of a precipice, the allure of the night pulling you closer with each passing moment. But deep down, you knew that giving in to temptation would only lead to regret and despair.

"I need some air," you blurted out, the words escaping your lips in a rush as you hastily rose from the couch. With a sense of urgency propelling you forward, you made your way through the crowded room, the pulsating beat of the music fading into the background as you sought solace in the quiet confines of the kitchen.

The air was cooler here, the chaos of the party muffled by the walls that surrounded you. You took a deep breath, relishing the momentary reprieve from the overwhelming atmosphere of the living room. With each inhale, you felt the weight of the night's events slowly begin to lift from your shoulders. The dim light of the kitchen cast a soft glow over the room, offering a sense of serenity amidst the chaos that raged beyond its walls.

Desperate to distract yourself from the chaos unfolding around you, you made a beeline for the punch bowl on the counter. With shaky hands, you poured yourself a generous serving of the potent liquid, the rich aroma wafting up to meet your senses.

Without hesitation, you lifted the cup to your lips and took a long, deep sip, the cool liquid burning a path down your throat. The sharp tang of alcohol cut through the haze of uncertainty that clouded your mind, offering a fleeting sense of solace amidst the turmoil.

You drank quickly, gulping down the fiery liquid as if it were the only thing anchoring you to reality in the midst of the storm. With each swallow, you felt the tension in your muscles begin to ease, the tight knot of anxiety in your chest slowly unraveling.

But even as you sought refuge in the numbing embrace of the alcohol, a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminded you of the dangers that lurked just beyond the surface. You knew that this was only a temporary reprieve, a fleeting escape from the harsh realities of the night.

As you set the empty cup down on the counter, a sense of calm began to settle over you, the sharp edges of your anxiety blunted by the comforting embrace of the alcohol. But as you turned around, ready to rejoin the chaos of the party, you were taken by surprise to find the same tall, lanky boy from earlier standing before you.

His presence loomed large in the dimly lit kitchen, his azure eyes glittering with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Despite the chaos that raged around you, the room seemed to fall silent in his wake, as if time itself had come to a standstill.

For a moment, you found yourself unable to look away, captivated by the enigmatic aura that surrounded him. There was something magnetic about him, a sense of allure that drew you in despite your better judgment.

As he regarded you with a knowing smile, you felt a surge of unease ripple through you. It was as if he could see straight through the facade you had carefully constructed, peeling back the layers of pretense to reveal the raw vulnerability that lay beneath. His voice, smooth and rich like dark velvet, sliced through the heavy air of the kitchen, a gentle caress against your senses. Startled, you turned to find him standing there, his tall frame looming before you like a solitary sentinel in the dimly lit room.

"You alright? You left pretty abruptly back there," he inquired, his azure eyes capturing yours with a mesmerizing intensity. There was a warmth in his voice, a subtle undercurrent of concern that sent a flutter through your chest.

You felt a rush of blood to your cheeks as you struggled to gather your thoughts, his unexpected presence leaving you momentarily speechless. His concern was palpable, hanging between you like a delicate thread, drawing you closer in its embrace.

"I… uh…" Your words faltered, lost in the depths of his gaze. A faint blush tinted your cheeks as you searched for an explanation, a reason to justify your abrupt departure from the chaos of the living room.

In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, the world around you fading into the background as you were enveloped by the magnetic pull of his presence. It was as if you were caught in a trance, unable to look away from the captivating allure of the stranger before you.

But as his gaze softened, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. There was understanding in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the tumultuous emotions that had driven you to seek solace in the quiet sanctuary of the kitchen.

"I just needed some air," you finally managed to murmur, your voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of the night. It was a simple explanation, but one that carried the weight of your inner turmoil.

His smile widened, a gesture of reassurance that filled you with a sense of warmth. "I understand," he replied, his words a gentle echo in the silence. "Parties can be overwhelming sometimes."

As you exchanged a brief smile, a sense of connection blossomed between you, bridging the divide that had separated you moments before. In that fleeting exchange, you realized that perhaps he wasn't just a stranger passing through the night.

"Yeah, this isn't really... my thing," you chuckled softly, your laughter a delicate melody that danced on the air. But beneath the lightness of your tone, there was a hint of vulnerability, a subtle admission of discomfort that lingered in the spaces between your words.

Your gaze remained fixed on your fingernails, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on their surface as you fidgeted with nervous energy. It was as if you were unable to meet the boy's gaze directly, the weight of his presence leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and unspoken truths. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, a silent observer to the turmoil that churned within you. In that moment, you wished for nothing more than to disappear into the shadows, to escape the intensity of his scrutiny and the weight of your own insecurities. But try as you might, you couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped in the spotlight, the focus of his attention burning like a spotlight against your skin.

"The parties or the coke?" he chuckled, his voice laced with sarcasm as he teased you. His words hung in the air between you, a playful challenge that danced on the edge of familiarity.

You couldn't help but smile at his teasing, a flicker of amusement lighting up your features despite the lingering tension that lingered between you. His playful banter offered a welcome distraction from the weight of the night's events, a momentary reprieve from the chaos that surrounded you.

With a playful glint in your eye, you met his gaze with a hint of defiance. "Both," you replied, your tone matching his sarcasm with ease. It was a simple retort, but one that carried a hint of truth beneath its surface.

He chuckled again, the sound reverberating through the air like a low rumble of thunder, sending a shiver down your spine. You felt his gaze linger on you, tracing an invisible path up and down your body as you stood there, pinned against the counter with nowhere to run or hide.

A sense of vulnerability washed over you as you met his gaze, the intensity of his scrutiny leaving you feeling exposed and defenseless. It was as if he could see straight through the facade you had carefully constructed, peeling back the layers of pretense to reveal the raw vulnerability that lay beneath.

As he inched closer, his presence loomed over you like a shadow, casting a veil of darkness over the already dimly lit kitchen. You felt as if you were shrinking in the wake of his towering stature, your own sense of presence diminishing in comparison.

With each step he took, you could feel your heart rate quicken, a flutter of panic rising in your chest. It was as if you were caught in a trap, ensnared by the magnetic pull of his gaze and the palpable tension that hung between you.

As he peered down at you, his features softened for a fleeting moment, a flicker of empathy shining in his eyes. It was a brief respite from the overwhelming intensity of his presence, a small glimmer of understanding in the midst of the chaos that surrounded you.

But as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed, and you were once again left to grapple with the unstuble fear that plastered your face. In that fleeting exchange, you realized that perhaps he wasn't just a stranger passing through the night, but rather a mirror reflecting the depths of your own vulnerabilities back at you.

"I never got your name," he spoke softly, his voice a gentle whisper that cut through the tension like a knife. There was a sincerity in his gaze, a genuine curiosity that sparked a flicker of warmth within you.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you met his gaze. "Y/N," you responded sheepishly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curved into a small smile, a gesture of appreciation for your honesty. "Y/N," he repeated, testing the sound of your name on his lips as if savoring its taste.

"So, what brought you here if this isn't your thing?" he inquired, his voice gentle yet curious, as if he were genuinely interested in unraveling the mystery of your presence amidst the chaos of the party.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, grappling with the weight of his question. Uncertainty clouded your thoughts as you debated how to respond, unsure whether his inquiry stemmed from genuine curiosity or mere flirtation.

For a moment, you felt a flicker of vulnerability, a nagging doubt that whispered in the recesses of your mind. Was he truly interested in unraveling the complexities of your presence at the party, or was he merely toying with you for the night?

With a deep breath, you pushed aside your reservations, choosing to take a leap of faith in the midst of uncertainty. "My friends brought me here," you admitted, your voice soft yet resolute. "They thought it might help me get over a breakup."

As the words left your lips, you felt a surge of raw emotion wash over you, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air between you. It was a vulnerable admission, a glimpse into the depths of your heartache and longing.

You braced yourself for his response, uncertain of what to expect. Would he offer words of comfort and understanding, or would he dismiss your vulnerability with a casual wave of his hand?

His eyebrows raised, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as if he were stunned by your confession. "What dumbass would break up with you?" he exclaimed, his tone incredulous and tinged with disbelief.

For a moment, you were taken aback by his candid response, the raw honesty of his words catching you off guard. It was a stark contrast to the playful banter that had characterized your conversation thus far, a glimpse into the genuine concern that lurked beneath the surface.

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a faint blush tinting your cheeks as you met his gaze. Despite the tumultuous emotions that churned within you, there was a sense of validation in his words, a reassurance that you were maybe worthy of devotion and respect.

You laughed drily, the sound echoing softly in the dimly lit kitchen as you offered your response. "He broke up with me because he's going off to college soon," you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

There was a bitter irony to the situation, a cruel twist of fate that left you grappling with the aftermath of a decision that had shattered your world. In that moment, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the memory of the relationship that had once held so much promise.

As you met his gaze, you saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities of your situation. In that fleeting exchange, you realized that perhaps you weren't alone in your struggles, that others too bore the weight of their own burdens and regrets.

"Well, that seems like his loss. I don't think I could forgive myself if I lost a girl who looks like you," he remarked, his voice soft yet earnest.

His words caught you off guard, a surge of warmth spreading through you at the sincerity in his tone. Despite the lingering doubts and insecurities that plagued your mind, there was a glimmer of validation in his words, a reassurance that you were worthy of love and admiration. For a moment, you were rendered speechless, the weight of his compliment hanging heavy in the air between you. It was a simple gesture, but one that carried a profound impact.

You gave him a soft smile, a faint glimmer of gratitude dancing in your eyes, but you couldn't help but shake your head in disbelief at his words. "Yeah, sure," you muttered quietly, the words tinged with a hint of skepticism.

Despite the warmth of his compliment, there was a part of you that struggled to accept it, a nagging voice of doubt that whispered in the recesses of your mind. It was hard to reconcile his kind words with the insecurities that still lingered within you, a constant reminder of the wounds that had yet to heal.

His earnestness caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but feel a flicker of warmth spread through you at his sincerity. "No, I'm serious," he insisted, his voice gentle yet firm. "I mean, I've been to many of these parties in my life, and I can tell you honestly, I haven't seen a girl that comes close to the way you look."

His words hung in the air between you, carrying a weight of truth that resonated deep within you. Despite your initial skepticism, there was something genuine in his tone, a sincerity that stirred something within your heart.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you tilted your head in mock curiosity. "Sure didn't seem like it when you were flirting with my friend back there," you teased, the sarcasm heavy in your voice.

His chuckle echoed softly in the air, a musical counterpoint to the playful banter that danced between you. There was a lightness to the moment, a shared understanding that transcended the uncertainties that lingered in the air.

"Ah, that was just jokes," he shrugged, his tone casual as he took a swig of his beer nonchalantly.

His easy dismissal of the earlier flirtation with your friend brought a smirk to your lips, a playful glint dancing in your eyes. It was a reminder of the fleeting nature of the moment, a recognition that sometimes laughter and banter were simply part of the dance of life.

With a nod of understanding, you let out a soft chuckle, the tension of the moment dissipating like wisps of smoke in the night air. In that simple exchange, you found a sense of camaraderie, a shared acknowledgment of the lightheartedness that often accompanied the chaos of a party.

"Oh, I'm sure, and if she would've tried to sleep with you, that would've been a joke too, right?" you quipped, a hint of sarcasm lacing your words as you raised an eyebrow at him.

The playful jab elicited a chuckle from him, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes as he met your gaze. It was a moment of shared understanding, a recognition of the absurdity of the situation and the power of laughter to bridge the gap between strangers. With a nod of agreement, he offered a sheepish grin, his expression softened by the warmth of your banter.

"You're a sarcastic one, aren't you?" he remarked, a playful glint in his eyes as he observed your witty banter.

You couldn't help but grin at his observation, a sense of pride swelling within you at the recognition of your sharp tongue. "Guilty as charged," you replied with a smirk, a hint of mischief dancing in your voice. The exchange brought a sense of levity to the moment, a shared understanding of the playful dynamics that had unfolded between you.

"I like it," he remarked with a grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

The simple affirmation brought a smile to your lips, a warmth spreading through you at his acceptance of your sarcasm. It was a small but significant gesture, a tacit acknowledgment of the unique bond that had formed between you in the midst of chaos.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his comment, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "Of course you do," you teased, the sarcasm dripping from your words like honey.

His laughter filled the air, a melodic counterpoint to your playful banter. It was a moment of shared understanding, a recognition of the quirks and idiosyncrasies that made each of you unique.

"You're pretty funny, Y/N. How come I haven't seen you around before? You just move here?" he asked, genuine curiosity coloring his tone.

You chuckled at his question, a small smile playing on your lips. "Nah, I've been around," you replied casually, a hint of mystery in your voice. "Just haven't crossed paths, I guess."

There was a subtle shift in the air, a shared moment of intrigue as you exchanged glances. In that fleeting exchange, you felt a sense of anticipation, a silent acknowledgment of the possibilities that lay ahead.

With a nod of understanding, he flashed you a smile, his eyes alight with curiosity. "Well, I'm glad we finally met," he said with a grin, his words carrying a note of sincerity.

You gave him a soft, small smile and nodded in agreement with him. "By the way, whose house is this anyways? It's huge," you remarked, glancing around at the lavish surroundings.

Rafe chuckled softly, a hint of sheepishness coloring his expression as he admitted, "Actually, it's me and my family's home."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, your gaze flicking around the opulent surroundings with newfound appreciation. "Wow, really?" you exclaimed, impressed by the revelation. "It's incredible."

He nodded, a smile playing on his lips as he glanced around the expansive space. "Yeah, it's been in the family for generations," he explained, a note of pride in his voice. "I like to throw these parties every now and then."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the realization, the grandeur of the mansion suddenly taking on a new significance. "Well, you certainly know how to host a party," you remarked, offering him a warm smile.

Rafe grinned in response, a sense of camaraderie blossoming between you. "Thanks," he replied, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of warmth. "Glad you're enjoying yourself."

You hummed a soft, breathy laugh in response, a playful twinkle in your eyes. "Yeah, as much as I can," you replied, your voice laced with a hint of mischief.

Rafe chuckled warmly at your response, a gentle glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Well, if you need a getaway from all the madness, I can show you around upstairs," he offered, his voice tinged with sincerity.

You raised your eyebrow at him, your eyes widening a bit as you questioned his motives through your facial expression. Sensing your skepticism, Rafe held his hands up in defense, his expression earnest.

"I didn't mean it like that," he clarified quickly. "It's just a quieter place if you need to have a moment to yourself for a bit. I know these parties can be a lot to some people."

His words washed over you, a sense of understanding dawning in your eyes as you processed his genuine intentions. With a small nod of appreciation, you offered him a soft smile, grateful for his thoughtfulness.

"Thanks, Rafe," you replied, sincerity coloring your voice. "I could definitely use a breather."

With a warm smile, Rafe gestured for you to follow him as he led the way towards the tranquility of the upper floors. As you ascended the stairs together, a sense of gratitude washed over you, thankful for the chance to escape the chaos of the party and find a moment of peace in the stranger's company.

As you walked up the stairs behind Rafe, your gaze wandered to the family portraits hanging on the walls. You observed them with curiosity, taking note of the familiar faces captured in time.

Your attention was drawn to the two girls in the portraits, and you couldn't help but squint at the image of the older one, a flicker of recognition crossing your features. "Is that your sister? I think I've seen her around before," you remarked, your voice tinged with curiosity.

Rafe turned around, his expression faltering slightly as he followed your gaze to the portrait you were pointing to. "Yeah, that's my younger sister, Sarah," he confirmed, a hint of trepidation in his voice. "She likes to hang around with the Pogues, so you've probably seen her running around somewhere with them."

You nodded in understanding, recalling the group of friends known as the Pogues and the reputation they had around town. "Ah, I see," you replied, a thoughtful expression crossing your features as you processed the information.

As you walked behind Rafe, you couldn't help but wonder why he seemed slightly annoyed when talking about his sister. However, you quickly brushed it off, chalking it up to the normal dynamic of older siblings feeling annoyed with their younger counterparts. After all, it was a common trope that transcended families and generations.

Despite your curiosity, you decided not to dwell on it too much, preferring to focus on the present moment and the journey through the upper floors of the mansion with Rafe. There were plenty of other things to occupy your thoughts, and you didn't want to read too much into a passing expression.

As you approached one of the doors in the hallway, Rafe swiftly opened it and guided you inside. "This is our library room," he explained, gesturing around the spacious chamber. "Bunch of old books and stuff in here that my dad collected over time."

You stepped into the room, feeling a sense of reverence wash over you at the sight of the rows of shelves lined with dusty tomes. The air was heavy with the scent of aged paper and leather bindings, lending the room a timeless quality that was both comforting and mysterious.

"Wow, this is incredible," you remarked, your voice barely above a whisper as you took in the sight. "I love old books."

Rafe nodded in agreement, a hint of pride in his expression as he surveyed the room. "Yeah, it's pretty cool," he admitted, his tone tinged with nostalgia. "My dad used to spend hours in here, lost in his own little world."

You listened with interest as Rafe shared stories of his father and the memories they had shared in the library room. There was a warmth to his words, a sense of reverence for the past that resonated deeply with you.

You marveled at the library room, feeling a pang of envy as you took in its grandeur. "I've never seen anything like this. I wish my parents built some cool room in our house. The most we have is a spare bedroom that's collecting dust," you confessed, a hint of longing in your voice.

Rafe glanced at you sympathetically, understanding the sentiment behind your words. "Yeah, I guess we're lucky in that regard," he replied, his tone gentle. "But hey, you never know what the future holds. Maybe one day you'll have your own cool room to escape to."

You smiled at his optimism, grateful for his reassuring words. "I wish," you replied, a sense of hope blossoming within you.

As you observed the bookshelves closer, your eyes became fixated on one in particular, and they lit up with recognition when you saw it. "Oh my gosh, I love this book," you exclaimed, your voice filled with excitement, as you reached out to carefully remove it from the shelf. Turning to face Rafe, you eagerly opened up the first page.

"Little Women?" Rafe's eyes widened in surprise and amusement as he nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "That used to be one of my mom's favorites," he replied, a hint of fondness and nostalgia in his voice.

You looked up at Rafe for a brief moment, noticing the hint of sadness that flickered across his features. Your heart sank as you realized the reason behind his use of the past tense when referring to his mom. Before you could respond, he spoke up again, as if sensing your thoughts.

"My mom left us when I was in middle school," he explained, his voice tinged with a mix of resignation and bitterness. "She just kind of packed up and ran off somewhere one day, who knows."

You felt a pang of sympathy for Rafe as you listened to his words. It must have been incredibly difficult for him and his family to cope with such a sudden and unexpected loss. "I'm so sorry," you murmured softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his arm.

Rafe offered you a small, sad smile, a silent acknowledgment of your empathy. "Thanks," he replied quietly, his gaze drifting back to the bookshelves.

Sensing Rafe's stoicism at the mention of his mother, you didn't want to push any boundaries or dwell on the topic further. Instead, you decided to revert back to the book itself, attempting to change the subject.

"I think I read this book twenty times in high school. I had a bit of a fixation on it for a while," you joked, a playful glint in your eyes as you chuckled softly, hoping to lighten the mood.

Rafe's expression softened slightly at your attempt to shift the conversation, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah? It's definitely a classic," he agreed, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"Amy was my favorite. I think I loved it so much because I could relate to her," you confessed, a wistful smile tugging at your lips as you reflected on the character.

"What do you mean by that?" Rafe's question pulled you out of your reverie, and you looked up at him, meeting his gaze with surprise. His expression was one of genuine interest, as if he was trying to read your expression and understand the meaning behind your words.

"Well, I'm the youngest of my siblings, all sisters, just like her," you confessed, a wistful laugh escaping your lips. "But my one sister, Charlie, she's just... good at everything she does, and because of that, I've always come second to her."

There was a hint of melancholy in your tone, a vulnerability that you rarely allowed others to see. You felt a weight lift off your shoulders as you shared your innermost thoughts with Rafe, grateful for his understanding and support.

Rafe's eyes softened with understanding as he listened to your words. "I'm sorry to hear that," he replied gently, his voice filled with sympathy. "It can be tough when you feel like you're constantly living in someone else's shadow."

As you opened up about your experiences, you noticed a hint of understanding in Rafe's voice, as if he had lived through the very scenario you were talking about. It piqued your curiosity, sparking a desire to learn more about his own experiences and struggles.

"Have you ever felt like that too?" you asked tentatively, your voice filled with genuine curiosity as you looked up at Rafe, searching for clues in his expression.

Rafe hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering with a mixture of emotions before he finally nodded, a quiet acknowledgment of your question. "Yeah, I have," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

As you sighed, accepting Rafe's short answer and not wanting to pry any longer, you simply nodded in understanding. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry, I just..."

Before you could finish your sentence, Rafe cut in, his voice gentle yet sincere. "No, it's okay," he reassured you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Most people only talk to me about surface-level things. It's kind of nice to talk about deep stuff like this."

His admission caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for his openness. "Yeah, I agree," you replied softly, a sense of warmth spreading through you. "I guess I'm kind of an open book about these things."

"That's not a bad thing," Rafe remarked, his tone gentle as he looked down at you with a small smile. "Just means you haven't let the world close you off."

You looked up at Rafe with a smile on your face, your eyes lighting up at his words as they touched you deeply. "Yeah, I guess you're right," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and appreciation.

The room seemed to hold its breath as you and Rafe locked gazes, a tranquil pause settling between you like a soft, comforting blanket. In the gentle hush, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time.

As your eyes met, you found yourself drawn into the depths of Rafe's gaze, each flicker of emotion reflected in the pools of his eyes captivating you. His features, illuminated by the soft glow of the room, seemed to hold a timeless beauty that begged to be memorized, every curve and line etched into your mind's eye with tender care.

In that suspended moment, it felt as though the universe had conspired to bring you together, allowing you to bask in the quiet intimacy of shared understanding. There was a sense of serenity in the air, a silent exchange of unspoken truths that bound you together in an invisible thread of connection.

As you drank in the sight of each other, you couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the sheer magnitude of the moment. It was as if the universe had granted you a fleeting glimpse into the depths of each other's souls, allowing you to see beyond the surface and into the heart of who you truly were.

With a shared smile, you and Rafe lingered in the silence, savoring the beauty of the moment as if trying to capture it in your hearts forever. In that sacred space between you, time seemed to stand still, allowing you to exist wholly in the presence of each other, lost in the mesmerizing dance of two souls.

The sudden interruption shattered the tranquility of the moment as your phone buzzed insistently in your pocket, demanding attention. With a reluctant sigh, you retrieved it, noting a message from one of your friends, signaling their readiness to leave.

"Be there in a sec," you quickly typed in response, fingers moving deftly over the screen before tucking the device back into the pocket of your skirt.

As you looked back up at Rafe, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the interruption. The spell of the moment had been broken, replaced by the looming reality of departure.

"Looks like I've got to head out," you explained apologetically, a hint of regret coloring your voice as you prepared to leave the warmth of the library room behind.

"It was nice meeting you, Y/N," Rafe said, his voice soft with genuine warmth. "I hope to see you around sometime again."

You smiled at his words, feeling a flutter of appreciation at the sincerity in his tone. "Likewise, Rafe," you replied, returning his sentiment with equal sincerity. "I'll definitely keep an eye out for you."

There was a shared understanding in that moment, a silent acknowledgment of the possibility of future encounters. As you bid each other farewell, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation, wondering what the future might hold and if fate would indeed bring you together once more. With a final nod, you turned to leave, the memory of your brief but meaningful encounter with Rafe leaving a lingering warmth in your heart.

taglist: @serrendiipty

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe angst #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x you

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featherandferns · 1 year

Text

fascinating new thing (fic)

jj maybank x fem!kook!shy!reader | the music the band plays in this are songs by beach bunny (that's the music style i envisioned for the reader) - check them out!

content warning: drinking & drug use; anxiety & anxiety attacks

word count: 18k. (the definition of a slow-burn, so just hang in there, okay?)

blurb: after your band plays a show at kiara's parents' restaurant, you find yourself face to face with jj maybank. shy and socially awkward, you fumble through, knowing that a guy like jj would never want a thing to do with you, right?

“I don’t understand you,” Kiara says. She’s perched atop one of the speakers.

“What’d you mean?” you ask from where you kneel on the floor. You’re detangling wires.

“When you met my parents, I could barely get your name out of you. But now I find out you enjoy singing to a crowd of strangers in your spare time?”

You laugh, shrugging.

“I mean, if I was shy, I think my worst fear would be singing to a group of anybody – let alone strangers,” Kie tells you with a chuckle.

“I guess it’s cause I’m in my element when I’m singing and stuff. I feel calm,” you think aloud.

You’d never really thought of it that much. Performing music always came easy to you. Talking to people, not so much.

The wires finally unknot and you go about plugging them into the correct amps. Kiara had offered to help you and your band set up before your gig. It was at The Wreck – her parents gracious enough to let you guys play – and Kie, being your friend for just over a year, was all for it.

You’d met at school when she transferred to (what she proclaimed as) Kook Academy. Kie felt as if she didn’t fit in, away from the Pogues and amongst the snobs. You felt like an outsider too. Making friends never came easy to you. Your shyness got in the way and made you clam up. The good first half of your years at school were spent having panic attacks during breaktime and hiding behind the sheds to eat lunch alone. One day you made your usual journey there to find Kiara, sat crying. You’d struck up your best attempt at conversation, sympathising immediately. She confided in you about missing her old school, and how this ‘bitch’ Sarah Cameron had started a rumour and ditched her. You nodded through it and offered up eating lunch together, which soon turned into hanging out after school, and overtime Kie pulled you out of your shell. That was when you told her about your band.

The only reason you’d managed to find your band was from the school counsellor’s insistence that you join an extra-circular. When you meekly confessed that you liked playing music and writing songs, she’d thrust you into band practice. Seriously: she literally escorted you there. Benny, who played drums, and Pansy, who played guitar, were your first friends. Pansy had an effervescent charm to her; naturally outgoing but not intimidating. Strangely, she was easy to talk to. Non-judgemental and non-pushy. Never asked you the age-old question ‘how come you’re so quiet?’ Benny was a little like you and it was as if the two of you clocked each other and decided to stick it out. Over time, you both opened up, with Pansy’s assistance of course. The bassist was someone Pansy met (and probably cornered) at a kegger, named Mike. Aloof and mysterious, you spent a great deal of your time wondering if he liked you and a greater deal wondering who he was. Finally, with you on vocals, the band was formed. Pansy lovingly named it The Wallflowers, in your honour.

As soon as Kie found out, she insisted on having you play at The Wreck. All of that led up to today, with the show due to start in two hours.

“I’m so excited to hear you guys play,” she grins. “I can’t believe it took you so long to tell me you were in a band.”

“Just never came up,” you chuckle, standing up. “How many people do you think’ll come?”

“Maybe fifty or so? Dad posted about it on the Facebook page and I put up some posters.”

Your stomach drops. “Posters?”

Kie jumps off the speaker. “Only around the cut! None at Kook Academy, don’t worry.”

The panic eases somewhat with her clarification. You weren’t exactly enthused to have some of your classmates, who seemed to find pleasure in teasing your quietness, coming to see you play. Your band was like your safe spot: where you could express yourself. Pansy practically had to prise the songs you’d written out of your hands at the first practice.

As if summoning her by thought, the afro haired girl waltzes into the restaurant, guitar case slung over her shoulders. “I can’t believe I haven’t been here before! This place is hella cute, Kie!”

“Thanks,” Kiara smiles.

Pansy hops onto the small make-shift stage you’d borrowed from the school’s music department, looking around the room as if she’d conquered the land.

“Yeah, yeah. This’ll do nicely.��

“This your lots’ first gig?” Kiara wonders as she gets up to get you all drinks.

“Nah. We’ve done a couple at my uncle’s bar,” Pansy replies. “Benny managed to get us this thing at a fundraiser too, last month.”

“It’s nice trying somewhere new though,” you say. Pansy nods enthusiastically.

“Especially somewhere this cute!”

Kiara laughs, walking back over with three cups balanced in her hands. You and Pansy take one each and have a sip. Fresh lemonade; perfect for the April weather warmth.

“When’s Benny and Mike getting here?”

“Mike’s hitching a lift with Benny. Said they’ll be about ten minutes or so,” Pansy replies.

She puts down her cup and shrugs off her guitar case. Unzipping it, she retrieves her ‘baby’. You’re surprised she doesn’t start gushing over how beautiful she is. You and Kie keep chatting about how schools nearly finished for the year as Pansy sorts out the cables and amps for her electric guitar. She then props it on the stand.

Just as she said they would, Benny and Mike walk into The Wreck just under ten minutes later. They’re both wheeling in drum pieces. Mike dashes out to grab his bass from the van. You move to help Benny set up his drums.

“You borrow your dad’s van again?” you ask him.

He nods. “Surprised he isn’t making me pay for gas.”

As you sit back on your haunches, screwing in one of the bolts for the kick drum, Benny looks at you. “You look nice, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you smile, not looking away from your handy work.

“New shorts?”

“Nah. Had them a while.”

“Oh. Well, they look nice.”

Benny lingers a moment longer, as if he might say something else, but then must think better of it and goes back to fixing the hi-hat.

“You nervous for tonight?”

“Not more than usual. I know I’ll be fine once we start playing,” you reply.

As the two of you finish setting up the drumkit, you glance off to see that Pansy has trapped Kie in some intense discussion about crystals. You knew it was risky introducing the two of them: two astrology girlies are a deadly combination. Mike sits off to the side, tuning his bass. The speaker’s on and it echoes around the room.

“Sounding groovy,” Kiara’s dad calls from the doorway of the kitchen.

Kie groans. “Dad, nobody says groovy.”

“Well, I do,” he says, winking at her. She rolls her eyes lovingly. “Think it should be a good crowd tonight, guys. Excited to hear you play.”

Pansy beams at him. “Thanks! We’ve been practising like mad for it!”

“Yeah. Pansy didn’t give us much of a choice,” Mike sardonically grins, making everyone laugh.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you!” Kiara says your name to catch your attention. “You remember me telling you about my friends, John B and all that? They’re coming too.”

“They are?” you ask, nervousness spiking.

She nods. “They’re super excited to meet you.”

There must be clear panic on your face because her enthusiasm evens out into a calming smile. “Hey! Don’t worry. They’re super chill.”

“Kie, no offense, but from some of the stories you’ve told me, they don’t sound super chill,” you mumble, going back to fixing another part of the drum into place.

“I mean they’re non-judgemental. Especially Pope. He’s a little weird too. Uh, no offence.”

“Offence,” you reply, though you smile when you do.

Kie calling you weird doesn’t bother you. Any other Kook at school doing it though, and you’d probably burst into tears.

“It’s alright. I’ll just sneak you out after the gig in a suitcase like they do with Taylor Swift,” Benny whispers to you. You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Great plan. Not obvious at all.”

The rest of the set-up goes to plan. After an hour, the instruments are plugged in and tuned up. Mike and Pansy have practised the bridge to one of the songs about twenty times, making your head begin to pound. Kiara’s dad has elicited Kie’s help in the kitchen with making the buffet-style meal. Their working was to do a pay-for-it-all sort of method: a set price of ten dollars per plate, loaded up as full as you want. Seconds and thirds were another five dollars. It seemed the best way to take orders without interrupting the gig. Kie’s mum comes to prepare the drinks. Bowls of punch for the kids and teens, and beers and cans for the adults.

By the time it comes close for you guys to play, the room is beginning to pack. You sit on the side of the stage, mostly hidden by one of the amps, with Pansy acting as an unofficial barrier for anybody who tries to talk to you. She’s glad to answer any questions, quickly diving into stories about the band name and the songs and whatever else comes to mind. Mike chimes in too, also rather extraverted, and you and Benny cower in the back like lost children in a shopping mall searching for their parents.

There’re the nerves before you play – like always – but the calmness of knowing that as soon as the first chord is strummed, it’ll fade out. You seem to slip into a corner of your brain when you guys play your songs. Like nobody can touch you or judge you. You’re almost able to fully let go.

“You guys ready?” Kiara’s dad asks, walking over to your foursome.

Nope. Nerves are back and in full force. Maybe you’ll throw up right here right now, and they’ll have to call the whole thing off.

“Hell yeah!” Pansy exclaims. She probably thinks she’s talking for all of you.

Kiara’s dad steps onto the stage and goes to the microphone, flicking it on. It buzzes to life, the noise catching people’s attention, and when he taps on it to make sure it’s working, the conversations naturally die down.

“Alright, folks! You guys are in for a treat tonight! The grooviest band from Kildare County is here to perform!”

You see Kie groan and shake her head from the back of the room, making you laugh. It helps ease your nerves. You don’t have time to check if her friends have arrived because you’re being ushered up by Pansy.

“Let’s here it for The Wallflowers!”

The applause from the small crowd that’s gathered feels like a stadium cheering you on. Pansy jumps on stage first, grabbing her guitar, waving happily to the crowd as if she knew each of them personally and had been banking on them to come. Mike gives a casual nod as he steps up and pulls on his bass. Benny slinks behind the drum kit, flashing the briefest of smiles to the crowd.

You focus on the floor and take a quick breath in. Here we go. Then you’re stepping onto the stage, forcing your head up, plastering on a smile, and waving.

Pansy always introduces the band. You can’t bring yourself to form words at the start of the show.

“How we all doing tonight?” She loudly asks, her voice echoing through the speakers.

The crowd give another whoop and cheer. It’s mostly teenagers and young adults, with some older couples and families intermixed. You catch Kiara’s eye and feel your shoulder’s relax a little when she gives a grin and thumbs-up. There’s not enough confidence in you to look at her friends.

Pansy introduces herself then names each one of you, pointing as she goes. Finally, she declares, “We’re The Wallflowers and we’ve got some songs to play for you tonight. You guys ready?”

You don’t take in the response from the crowd. Just close your eyes and wrap your hands around the microphone, searching for the tap of Benny’s drumsticks to count you in. Wait for it. Wait for it…

Two, three, four—

The moment Pansy strums her first chord, and Mike hits his first note, your mouth opens and the words fly out, second nature, without a thought.

“Sometimes I think I see your ghost…”

The anxiety gets shoved down, suppressed by something akin to confidence, and you manage to open your eyes. Your body naturally sways to the music, hands not leaving the microphone until you reach the first chorus.

“If you’re gonna love me, make sure that you do it right. I’ll be under your window in the moonlight.”

Fingers pushing through your hair, sweeping it off your shoulders, you dance a little to the beat. Benny’s hitting, keeping you all in rhythm, and Mike’s bass thrums lowly to keep you in tune. Pansy’s grinning – you see it from the corner of your eye – as she plays her guitar. It makes you smile. Your band; a mismatched group of teens from the sweeter side of Kook Academy. You have no idea how you managed to find them, but there’s no complaints to be heard. As if sinking into the cosiest of beds after a tiresome day, you relax into the music, relax in yourself.

After the first song, it becomes easy. You feel in your element, like a bird returning from migration, and start to engage with the crowd some more. Start having them clap along to the beat when the bridge starts up for the third song. Have them jumping a little to the chorus of the fifth.

“Ain’t she great?” Pansy encourages from them after the sixth song.

The strangers who’ve accumulated to see you, now a little buzzed, applaud and whistle. You feel your face flush hot. At the back, Kiara cheers the loudest, accompanied by several guys’ voices who holler. You look over and it’s then that you meet his eyes. JJ Maybank.

The nerves hit you full force.

Oh God.

How the hell are you supposed to sing another song knowing that he’s watching you? That someone who looks like that is listening to you sing your stupid little love-sick, fantasy-formed songs? You knew he was friends with Kie, but you didn’t think he’d actually show up.

You consider pretending to faint, but that’ll probably be more humiliating than just powering through. To distract yourself, you duck down to take a sip of water from your bottle.

“Come on,” you whisper, closing your eyes. Just one song left, and then you’re home free and can hide under your sheets for a week. Maybe two.

“This next one is mostly me and my girl,” Pansy announces, nodding to you as you rise back to stand. “We’re gonna bring it down a minute, alright? I wanna see lots of loved up couples slow dancing, you hear?”

There’re some chuckles. You’re always in awe of how easily she interacts with the crowd. Pansy begins to pick out the melody on her strings, turning to face you. She smiles reassuringly, nodding to count you in. The anxiety melts away as the words line up ready in your head. Taking a breath, you turn back to the microphone.

“I wither within when I’m without. Baptised in sin and blessed with doubt.”

From the corner of your eyes, you see a phone torch lift into the air. Then you see more and more people do the same, until there’s a powerful white glow shining on yourself and Pansy. You let out a small, bashful giggle. Through the phones, you spot Kiara again, nodding along to the beat and swaying. She’s got an easy smile on her face. You can’t help but glance your eyes to JJ, who’s at her side. His arms are crossed over his chest, face nearly stoic, but he’s swaying too. Looks almost deep in thought. Before he can clock that you’re looking at him, you flit your eyes back to the wall.

“There’s always someone, I’m tryna live up to. I can never get to you. You always seem closer, in the rear view…”

As the song goes on and your voice sings out, your eyes slip shut again. You sink into the words and let your mind drift into thoughts of romance and love. It had never been all that present in your life. Talking to strangers in the chance that they might be your friend was terrifying enough; if you find them attractive, then it’s game over. You practically become mute from nerves. That left you pretty lonely, romantically and otherwise. Besides, guys didn’t tend to go for girls who could barely spit out a sentence in a group project and are as often seen at a kegger or house party as a dodo bird. At least, not the type of guys you liked.

The ending of the song starts to build; Mike picks out a steady beat on his bass. You slowly begin to clap on every other beat. Gradually, the crowd joins in as the melody from Mike continues. Once enough people have joined, you decide to pick up the lyrics.

“You love me. I love you. You don’t love me anymore, I still do. I’m sorry. I’m trying. I hate it when you catch me crying.”

One the final lyric, Benny’s joining in, Pansy in tow. The big finish arrives, the crowd stopping their clapping to whoop and bash their heads to the heavy beat. You repeat the lyrics again, finding your grin once more at the sight of everyone having fun (save for some dwellers and shoe-watchers on the outskirts).

“I hate it when you catch me crying.”

The song comes to an abrupt end. Pansy lets her last note ring out. When the crowd cheers and applauds, you laugh bashfully into the microphone, your face so hot that you worry it might explode.

“Thank you,” you manage out with a smile.

“We’ve been The Wallflowers! Follow us on Spotify and Instagram! Good night!” Pansy shamelessly promotes, waving with both hands in farewell.

You take an awkward bow, Benny waving nervously from behind the drum kit, and then Kiara’s dad is flicking on the main lights. The chatter of the crowd soon kicks up now that you guys are done playing, and Kie’s dad switches back on the usual playlist that buzzes through the restaurant to fill the background’s quiet. You turn to Pansy to find her beaming, practically vibrating on the spot with excitement. She ambushes you and Mike in a group hug.

“You guys did amazing! We fucking rocked! Holy shit! We’re playing here all the time!”

You laugh at her ways, hugging her back tentatively. You’d never been the best with physical affection, which was a perfect match for Pansy, who didn’t seem capable of doing anything without a bear hug.

“It was pretty rad,” Mike agrees, nodding. Cool and calm as ever.

Benny emerges from behind the drums, shaking his head of ginger hair out of his eyes. “I think we sounded alright, yeah,” he says, smiling at you.

“Alright? We sounded fucking amazing!” Pansy screeches.

You flush with embarrassment. “I could’ve hit the note a bit better on—”

“Oh, would you guys stop it and just enjoy the moment!” Pansy berates, pulling back to mirthfully roll her eyes. “The truth is we sounded great, and you know it.”

“She’s right!” Kiara calls from below.

You turn your head and smile at her. Pansy nods in approval, pulling Mike and Benny into a conversation, as you climb down to talk to Kiara.

“You liked it?” you ask.

“Are you kidding? You guys are awesome!”

“Thanks,” you laugh, reluctant to accept the compliment.

The place is starting to fill out now that the gig and serving is done. A few people linger to chat and discuss the show, but most filter out the front and back doors. Gradually, it gets easier to hear the reggae music through the speakers.

“You’ve gotta meet the gang before we leave! Come on,” Kiara says as your chatter about music dies down.

Before you can register her words, she’s grabbing at your wrist and guiding you outside to where the boys are loitering. Your meek protests fall on deaf ears and soon you’re face to face with the trio. Kiara announces your name proudly, as if presenting an award, and you awkwardly wave, barely making eye contact with any of them. Least of all JJ.

“Hey,” John B smiles. He has a nice smile. Friendly and warm. “I’m John B. This is Pope-”

“-You guys sounded great, by the way,” Pope says to you. You feel overwhelmed by the praise and vaguely nod in thanks, hopefully smiling as you do.

“-And JJ.”

At his name, you find yourself looking up at him. He’s taking a hit of his vape and offers you a smile, then he holds out his fist to bump yours. It takes you too long to clock what he means. By the time your fist hits his, he’s halfway retracted his own. It’s already a mess. Oh God. Maybe that spilt-beer puddle on the table is deep enough to drown yourself in.

“I liked that last song.”

You blink out of your panic-filled haze and into his eyes. “The last one?”

“Yeah. The slower one that goes all loud at the end? What’s it called?”

“Rear view.”

He bobs his head, the silence stretching out. Say something else. When you wrote it, maybe. Before your brain can catch up to formulate anything else outside of your blunt response, JJ’s taking another hit of his vape.

“Well…It’s a good song.”

“Thanks,” you cloddishly say.

Oh God. It’s terrible. It’s painful. It’s…

“You wanna come back to the chateau and hang out?” John B wonders.

“The chateau?”

“It’s just this dumb nickname for John B’s house,” Kiara says.

“Hey!”

“You wanna?” she asks, ignoring him.

“Oh, um…”

You glance back inside The Wreck, through the window, seeing you friends chatting animatedly. Benny’s smiling, which is always a good sign. Then you look back to Kiara and her friends. The Pogues, as she often called them. Your eyes fall on JJ last. He isn’t looking at you, instead out to the distance, as if waiting to leave. Yep – you blew it. Good job.

“I’ll pass,” you say, tone apologetic. “Need to talk with my band.”

“Oh. Well, let us know if you change your mind,” Kie smiles, recovering easily.

You nod and accept her offer of a hug. Then you’re walking back into the restaurant, ungainly waving goodbye to her friends. John B and Pope wave back, and JJ nods his head at you in farewell.

As soon as you’re out of ear shot, you look down at the floor and sigh.

Whispering to yourself, you can’t help but say, “good job, me.”

~*~*~*~*~*

The fishing supply shop you’d stumbled upon was more like a shack. There was a mom-and-pops feel to it; a hand painted sign that creaked when it swung in the breeze (the lingering presence of spring, fighting to stay before summer would cast it out). You push through the door, hearing the chime of the bell, and look down at the list your dad had given you. Looking back up to the rows of goods, you feel as if everything is spelt in Spanish. Sighing, you go to start searching for the things on his list. It doesn’t help that he’s been wonderfully vague: lures, hooks, bait. You look at some of the boxes and take one down to inspect the label better. You’re pretty sure these are hooks…

“Hey, you’re Kie’s friend, right? That chick in the band?”

Assuming somebody’s talking to you, you look up, to the right, and come eye to eye with JJ. Your mouth instantly goes dry like the Sahara.

“Yeah,” you say. You’re trying to smile but it’s like the muscles in your face have gone lax. Why are you so Goddamn inept sometimes?

“I’m JJ,” he says, fixing his cap. “We met at The Wreck?”

“No, I know,” you tell him. You don’t mean for it to sound rude – merely stating a fact that of course you know who he is – but through your nerves, it sounds clipped. Like he’s bothering you.

JJ nods, a little awkward himself now. “No, yeah, of course.”

Just as you’re willing up the guts to apologise for your hopeless social skills, JJ’s filling the silence once more.

“You fish?”

“What?”

“Do you like fishing?”

What a weird question. “No.”

“Oh,” he says. He glances around. “Then…Why are you in a fishing shop?”

Oh. Yeah, duh.

“Oh, my dad does,” you say, lifting the list to show him. JJ’s eyes skim it briefly and he nods, quietly letting out an ‘ah’. “Asked me to pick some stuff up for him.”

Oh God, shut up.

“Well, this place is a pretty good spot to go for your gear,” he tells you.

“Do you fish?”

And, good job, you’ve managed to ask a normal question.

JJ smiles and it seems as if he’s relaxing into himself again. It makes you feel easier too; it’s always painful when your awkwardness rubs off on others, like the spreading of a disease.

“Yeah, I do. My whole family were fishermen and stuff. Can’t remember a time when I wasn’t fishing,” JJ says.

Whilst you prepare yourself to ask more about his family, and what sort of fishing he does, JJ’s flashing you a friendly grin and nodding down to your list.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Hope you find everything.”

“Oh. Yeah, thanks. Um, you too,” you reply.

You final have enough control of yourself to smile at him. It might be your delusions contorting your perception, but you’re sure JJ’s smile grows a bit brighter when you do.

Turning away, you go back to staring hopelessly at the box in your hand. The front is raving about the benefits of this style of hook, reeling of jargon as if trying to impress a university professor. It’s useless. Not only are your thoughts now hijacked by overthinking everything you said in that conversation, and the fact that JJ Maybank spoke to you on his own agenda; you still haven’t learnt anything about fishing in the last five minutes. You’ll just get a receipt and your dad can come back and fix whatever mess you make of this seemingly easy errand.

“You gonna buy those?”

JJ’s still there, stood at your side. He’s looking at the box from over your shoulder. You look up to him.

“Yeah?”

“Those ones are pure crap. No, no, you want the good stuff,” JJ tells you, shaking his head.

He takes the box from your hand and replaces it with another, from a higher shelf. Tapping on the cover, he begins to read off some of the hooks’ perks (who knew there could be so many?).

“I mean, they’re a little more expensive but you get more bang for your buck, you know? Those other ones’ll snap after like four days on the water.”

When he looks back into your eyes, he must see the blank look behind them. He laughs. “Just trust me on this.”

“Okay,” you say, finding a laugh.

“Here, what else’s on your list?” JJ asks, taking the scrap of paper from you.

You don’t complain. Being in his orbit feels like you’re seeing the earth from space; even if it’s just him helping you buy fishing gear, there’s no way you’re going to pass up this opportunity.

JJ keeps talking, jovial in tone, casually dropping reams of information and tips about fishing. As he starts moving around the store in search of items, you blindly follow, nodding along, though only half understanding what he’s saying. It just feels nice to hear him talk. He has a nice voice; one that easily brings a smile. There’s the strong, Carolina accent that shines through, intermixed with slang that’s robust on the cut.

“So, what band are you guys a tribute for?” JJ wonders as he inspects different wires.

“What’d you mean?”

“You know, like who’s music are you playing? I haven’t heard it before.”

“They’re originals,” you say. His head whips around, eyes wide.

“No way.”

“Yeah. I, uh, wrote the songs myself,” you admit, modest.

“You wrote them? That’s insane!”

“Well, they’re not Fleetwood Mac or anything—”

“—Well, nobody’s Fleetwood Mac, for starters,” JJ interrupts, turning back to the wires. “And not anybody can write songs. I sure as hell can’t. Fucking hopeless with words.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you laugh. You feel as if you’re inching out of your shell, the longer you talk to him.

His shoulders, strong and built, shrug under the cotton of his tee shirt. On the back, there’s an emblem: Kildare County Boating Supplies. “Born with my foot in my mouth. Never know when to shut the hell up, half the time.”

“Oh, same here.”

JJ laughs. He glances over his shoulder at you. The crinkles on his cheeks from his smile give him a boyish look of innocence. “Oh, you’re funny, huh?”

“Not usually,” you reply.

“Nah, I doubt Kie could be friends with someone who didn’t have a sense of humour,” JJ lightly argues.

He seems to have decided on a wire and picks up a box, handing it to your building pile stacked up in your arms.

“I think we got it all,” he says, checking over the list. It’s fickle how the term ‘we’ makes your heart stutter.

The two of you head to the counter, gently dumping all the items. You request two bags, knowing you’ll need as much help as you can get to lug it all home. JJ’s still lingering by you. The cashier begins to scan through the items.

“Oh, shit,” JJ mumbles, grinning. He’s looking at a pocketknife on the counter; picks it up to inspect it.

Confused, you ask, “what is it?”

“It’s the latest model,” JJ says.

“There’s different models of pocketknife?” you hear yourself ask.

JJ chuckles, still inspecting it. You notice how the cashier is eyeing him up, like he might just slip it into his pocket, then and there. He probably doesn’t catch the glare you shoot at him.

“These guys make the best ones. My dad gave me his old one and it lasted for like ten years. Damn.”

Your eyes glance down to the box he took it from, checking the price. It’s more than what you’d pay for a pocketknife, but apparently it seems to be worth the money. JJ eventually puts it back.

“That everything for you, dear?” the cashier checks.

JJ seems to take it as his cue to leave. Shoving his hands in his short pockets, he flashes you a smile and a nod.

“Well, I’ll see you around, Kie’s friend.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“Course,” JJ shrugs. He nods to the cashier in farewell, too, then heads out the door.

Looking to the cashier, who’s still waiting for a reply, then down to the box of pocketknives, you smile, overcome with an idea. After you’ve paid up and packed your bags as quickly as you can, you thank the cashier before darting out the store, glancing around for JJ. He hasn’t gone very far, walking towards the docks. You remember Kie telling you about Pope’s dad Hayward, and how he lived on the waterside, and you put two-and-two together. Before the small bout of adrenaline can leave, along with your confidence, you jog over to him, calling his name.

JJ turns around and smiles, a little confused. “You good?”

“Here,” you say, digging about in your short pocket to retrieve the knife. You hold out the pocketknife to him, hands shaking a bit. “As a thank you.”

He looks down at it. Then, he begins to frown. “Why’d you do that?”

“As a thanks,” you repeat. You’re still holding it out. Heart pounding in your ears. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all. You overstepped. He was just being helpful and you made it weird, like always.

JJ scoffs, shifting his weight. He glances off to the water. Looking down at you, jaw somewhat tense, he says, “I don’t need your charity, you know?”

Frowning, you reply, “it’s not charity. It’s…A sign of gratitude, I guess?”

He eyes the knife like it might be laced with Anthrax. Okay, this is getting slightly ridiculous.

“Look, will you just take it? I’ve got no use for it, so it’ll just go to waste if you don’t,” you say impatiently.

JJ’s eyes flash up to yours. There’s a twitch in his cheek, threatening a smirk. Chuckling quietly, he reluctantly accepts the gift.

“Okay, I will. Uh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, nodding. Good. That was good. The only problem is that now that you’ve done that, the interaction has come to a natural end, and you have nothing else to say to fill the gaps. “Well…Have a good day.”

Chuckling, he nods, waving you off. “You too.”

The moment your back’s turned to him; you exhale out the lingering nerves. Your smile doesn’t fade, turning almost giddy from the fleeting conversations you’d shared. It’s brought you too much joy that JJ just accepted a pocketknife off you; it’s practically pathetic. Nonetheless, you don’t berate yourself too much. Instead, you walk home, replaying the way JJ chuckled and smiled down at you when you let your patience slip.

~*~*~*~*~*

As an introvert, you’ve managed to find your way out of plenty of social gatherings. Award ceremonies? Stomach bug. Presentations? Stomach bug. House parties? You guessed it – stomach bug. Keggers? Any ideas…?

One gathering that you’ve never been able to get out of - nor have ever been able to say no to, out of guilt - are birthdays. Any sort of birthday celebration, no matter how big or how small, and you feel have to go. You almost feel like it’s your duty to. Friends were a rarity in your life, like finding emeralds and gold, and you didn’t want to risk it by making it seem like you didn’t care about someone’s special day. Even if parties made your stomach feel like it was filled with led and you barely opened your mouth in fear that you might puke with anxiety, you force yourself to any that you’re invited to.

For Pansy, it was always a house party. Some big, ridiculous do that her rich parents would throw. Streamers and themes and a hired DJ. A huge, ridiculous cake that barely got eaten and party favours that were practically insulting in price. She didn’t care all that much about it, but she was an only child and boy do rich parents like to spoil their only off-spring. It was sort of sweet though. Her parents weren’t trying to buy her affection: they genuinely did care for her, and just wanted her to have a good time. So, when Pansy’s birthday rolled around, at the beginning of June – just after school finished up for summer – you get the dreaded text:

Birthday bash on Friday night: be there or else.

A knife emoji, and then…

Love ya!

You groan and toss your head back, flopping onto the pile of pillows on Kiara’s bed. Her phone chimes a moment later and, after reading the text, she flashes you a pitiful smile.

“Pansy’s birthday party?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“It’ll be fun!”

Unconvinced. “Mhm.”

“Come on. We can get ready together and pre-drink together and get drunk together. It’ll be great.”

Easing yourself up reluctantly, you cock a brow at her. “Really?”

“Yes! It’ll be great,” she repeats, firmer as if in promise. The ding of her phone prompts her to read the second message. You watch as her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh! She invited the Pogues, too.”

“Like the band?” you ask tiredly, rubbing your forehead.

You wouldn’t be all that surprised. One year her parents managed to bag ‘The 1975’ for a birthday-shoutout-video-call. Don’t ask.

Kiara rolls her eyes. “Like JJ, John B and Pope: The Pogues. Dumbass.”

Your eyes shoot open.

JJ.

Hoping to sound nonchalant, you watch Kie type away on her phone as you ask, “well, you don’t think they’ll wanna go though, right? I mean, didn’t you say they hate Kooks?”

There’s the telling whoosh noise that a text has been sent. She looks up at you and shrugs. “They probably will. They might hate Kooks but they love open bars.”

Great. No, yeah, that’s great. You’ll run into JJ again and the conversation will be doubly as awkward and you’ll make a fool of yourself, like you always do, and you’ll go drown in the pool that’s overflowing with your tears of embarrassment. No, great. That’s just—

“Great.”

The theme for Pansy’s seventeenth turns out to be 2000s. She’s dressed up as Regina George from Mean girls – the scene where she has circles cut out of her white vest top, showing through her pink bra. She sends you a picture of her costume on the night, whilst you’re at Kiara’s getting ready.

“Woah. She looks amazing,” you grin, showing the phone to Kie.

She’s sat on the bed, working on her eye make-up. Momentarily glancing away from the mirror to check your phone, she smiles and gives her mark of approval. You text Pansy back, gushing over her costume, and then follow it up with a blatant lie: so excited for tonight! Tossing your phone to the side, you look in the mirror and get back to working on your hair, portioning it in two to style it into pigtails. You’ve dressed up as one of the Powerpuff Girls. Namely, Bubbles: the sweet, quiet, innocent one. In many ways, you feel as though you are Bubbles. The costume’s fun and reminds you of childhood.

“John B just text me,” she tells you, glancing down at her phone that’s pinging away. “Says they’re still at the chateau and will probably show up later. I reckon we’ll be ready to leave for Pansy’s in ten.”

“Are all of them going?” you ask. You’re not sure what you want her answer to be.

“Yep. Even Pope,” she says.

You look back into the mirror and swallow your nerves. It’ll be fine. It’ll be great, just as Kiara promised. Reaching for your bottle of cider, you down the rest and finish getting ready.

It takes about fifteen minutes to walk to Pansy’s house from Kiara’s. The two of you start up the path towards the house. It’s impressive. Modern and ageless, with contemporary finishes and floor-to-ceiling windows on nearly every wall. Painted exuberant white, the place stands as a monument to money. There’s a fountain in the front garden and an electronically powered front gate that’s been left open for the night. The two of you head up the stairs to the front door. Music is pulsing, sneaking out the house and into the night, and you take a breath in preparation. Kie seems to notice and takes your hand, smiling and giving it a squeeze of reassurance. With that, you remind yourself why you’re putting yourself through this hell. Pansy’s birthday.

It's rammed and loud and overstimulating in every way. There’re couples making out on the coach and friends dancing near a speaker and two guys arguing loudly by the window. Empty cups and bottles, an abandoned bong on the coffee table (another perk of having rich parents: they let you do whatever you want). Somebody’s already passed out on the stairs, with other party goers narrowly dodging them as they rush off to the bathroom or in search of a quiet room. Kiara guides you through the house, through the kitchen, in search for Pansy. Your hand never leaves hers. The pounding of the bass is so loud that it’s hard to tell what’s your heartbeat and what isn’t.

You spot Mike first. He’s lent on the counter of the island, chatting to a girl you don’t recognise.

“Hey, Mike,” you say, finding your smile from the familiar face. He looks to you and grins.

“Hey!” his low voice booms. He wraps you in a quick hug. “Wasn’t sure if you were gonna come?”

“You know me,” you smile, queasy. “Anything for Pansy.”

“Amen,” he nods, tipping his beer in approval. He greets Kie, having met her at The Wreck the other week.

“You know where Pansy is?”

“Out back, last time I checked,” he replies, nodding to the backdoor.

You thank him and drag yourself and Kie out the patio doors and into the garden. Scanning the area, you try and spot your friend. There’s people swimming in the pool, cannonballing in, and others dancing to the music. Someone throwing up. A bong being passed around. Beer pong and drinking Jenga and…It’s chaos. Keep it together.

Then, you spot Pansy. She’s lent against the shed, chatting away to a half-arsed Juno. Walking over, the moment she clocks you and Kiara, the other conversation is ditched. Throwing her arms out – already drunk and probably high – she gives a cheer of your names.

“You made it!”

“Better late than never,” Kiara grins.

You let her hug you; almost have the life squeezed out of you in the process. “Happy birthday, Pansy.”

“Damn right, it’s a happy birthday,” she grins. “Look at this rager!”

Kiara nods in approval, taking it all in. “Having fun?”

“I am now!” Pansy exclaims. “Maybe now that you’re here, Benny’ll finally show up.”

“Benny’s here?” you ask.

“Mhm. I lost him about five minutes in, though. He’s probably hiding under the stairs, poor thing,” she says, shaking her head. Looking to Kie, she asks, “did the Pogues come along?”

“They should show up at some point,” Kie nods, smiling.

“Oh, yes! Finally, my plan can come into action!” Pansy says. She then gives a laugh that borders on psychotic.

You frown, befuddled. “Your plan?”

“My set-you-up-with-JJ plan? Only been waiting since the fifth grade,” she buzzes.

Your face drops. Your stomach plummets. All your internal organs flop out of your body and land on the floor, with your heart last.

One too many drinks in Pansy, and she casually lets slip of your biggest, most pathetic secret on earth, to none other than one of JJ’s best friends.

“What?” Kiara practically shouts. She gapes at you.

Pansy’s face quickly switches from excitement to dread, as her brain seems to catch up. “Wait…Shit, I wasn’t supposed to say that, was I?”

“Nope,” you say, through gritted teeth.

Hold it together. Hold it together.

“JJ?” Kiara checks. She’s staring at you as if you’ve just done an Irish jig.

You don’t reply. Not sure you can. You swallow thickly and stare down at the floor.

Then, scarily calm, you say, “I think I’m gonna go get another drink.”

Neither of them stops you – Pansy already distracted and Kiara practically in shell-shock – and you slink back into the house. You grab the first thing you find (another bottle of beer) and frantically search for a bottle opener, cracking it open. Downing half of it, you look around for Mike. He’s not where he was stood before. You have no idea where the hell to even start looking for Benny. You finish the bottle and then look for another. In the process, you decide that having a shot of vodka might be alright and take a swig or two right from the bottle. Okay, maybe a little more than a shot.

There’s a hand on your arm, tugging, and it catches your attention.

“There you are!” Kiara sighs in relief. “Look, it’s okay that you have a crush on JJ. If anything, it’s better than okay! It’s kinda sweet! I just wish you’d told me—”

“Kie, please, stop,” you say, shaking your head. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now, alright? Pansy didn’t mean to say that. I don’t…It’s not even true!”

She pulls a face as if to say ‘yeah, right’ but doesn’t argue. “Well…If you ever wanna talk about it—”

“--I really don’t—”

“--But if you ever do! You can, alright?”

She means it. You can hear it in her voice and see it on her face. Sighing, you nod. She smiles at that.

“Look, I’m not gonna tell him, okay? I would never do that,” she assures you. You smile, nodding once more. Your stomach feels like a mosh-pit.

“Good. Now, come on! I promised you a great night and I meant it.”

Kiara ropes you into a game of drinking Jenga. At some point, Pansy joins, then Mike. After three rounds – and two shots to get out of doing dares – you begin to feel weird. It’s then that you realise, as the world becomes fuzzy and your thoughts start to mush, that all the alcohol you’ve been necking is hitting at once.

Oh no.

You excuse yourself to go find the bathroom, hoping to have a moment to pull yourself together, and despite Kiara’s instance you tell her not to follow. You just need a moment alone to calm down your heartrate. Why does it suddenly feel like it’s going to beat out of your chest now? You’ve been to Pansy’s house plenty of times before, but you suddenly feel lost. People are crammed into every room like sardines, all of them strangers, and you can’t grasp your bearings. The alcohol isn’t helping, nor the panic, and the longer your search for a bathroom or an empty space, the more you feel like the walls are closing in. At some point, you end up in a corridor of the house. It’s a little quieter than in the main rooms, a few bodies lining the walls, some girls sat on the floor chatting. The only light is a single bulb hanging above. At the sight of you stumbling down the hall, one of the girls must think you look as bad as you feel.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks.

You nod, trying to smile, but you’re honestly not sure what expression is on your face anymore. The bathroom door is locked. No. The girl is coming up to you, maybe thinking she’s being helpful, but you hate strangers and you hate conversations and you hate parties and

Why did you come?

You’ve spoken about five words to Pansy all night! She’d understand if you didn’t; probably wouldn’t even miss you. Great. Something about that thought has tears stinging your eyes, and the random girl who’s made it her new mission in life to help you is only spurred on. She’s shushing you and it makes it all worse: you’re so embarrassed. If there’s anything you dread more than talking to strangers, it’s crying in front of them. Is this a nightmare?

The sound of your name reflexively has you turning your head. It’s JJ.

“Jesus, you don’t look too good,” he says.

Great.

His eyes flit to the girl uselessly trying to calm you down from your panic attack. He ushers her off you, half-arsedly thanking her, and then he’s guiding you from the hallway and through a door. It’s a bathroom. Maybe the door you’d been trying earlier wasn’t a bathroom? It’s all so confusing. You didn’t even know JJ was here; just assumed the Pogues hadn’t bothered showing up. You suddenly realise that you’re still hyperventilating, in front of your crush of all people, and then you remember that Pansy let slip to Kiara that you have a crush on JJ and…

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” JJ’s saying. He’s frowning at you, concerned.

You’re shaking your head, waving him off. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Sorry. I’m sorry! You can go back to the party!”

That would all be believable if you weren’t gasping out the words. JJ doesn’t listen. He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve spoken. You don’t bother to try again. The ground seems a good place to go. Solid and unmoving. You slide down the bathroom wall and gasp in air. It won’t seem to stay in your lungs, as if fighting to escape, and you start to cry.

JJ’s saying your name in a soothing voice. He’s squatting in front of you, watching as you pull your knees up to your chest. God, this is humiliating.

“We’re gonna play a game, okay?”

A game?

“Yeah, yeah. It’s called the ‘five things’ game, alright?”

“I don’t…I don’t understand…” you cry, shutting your eyes.

Playing a game is the last thing you need right now. You just need to breathe. Why can’t you breathe?

“I’ll go first, alright? I have to name five things beginning with…Gimme a letter,” he says.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You write songs, for Christ’s sake,” he laughs, tone gentle. “Come on. One letter. That’s all I’m asking.”

You sort of want him to shut up, so you scramble through your thoughts. “T.”

“Okay, alright. I have to name five things beginning with ‘T’,” JJ says.

All you can hear is your panting for a while. You feel lightheaded.

“Um…Toothbrush. That’s one. How about…”

You crack open your eyes. He’s looking around the room. You notice his cap’s abandoned on the floor. Move your eyes to his legs, mostly bare save for his shorts, and to his chest.

“Tee shirt,” you offer, breathless. JJ’s head whips around to look at you. He smiles encouragingly.

“Yeah, tee shirt. Okay, three more.”

You begin to glance around the room. Stomach still rising and falling, you try and search for something beginning with ‘T’. It’s suddenly become the most important thing in the world.

“Toilet,” you say as your eyes drift over to it. “And toilet brush.”

“Damn, you’re on a roll,” JJ chuckles. You barely manage a laugh. Your head doesn’t feel as fuzzy anymore. “Just one more.”

It’s then that you realise he’s had a hand on your knee the whole time. Rubbing slow, concentric circles on the skin. You start to focus on the feeling of it, looking down as he does it. He’s gone back to searching the room, as if he’s forgotten he’s doing it.

“Touch.”

JJ frowns, looking back to you, then following your gaze to his hand. His smile is almost shy. “Yeah, that counts. Touch.”

The panic attack has eased off. Your lungs are finally doing their job, filling with air and holding it for longer than a millisecond. Exhaling slowly, closing your eyes, you tilt your head back against the wall.

“Better?” JJ wonders.

“A little. Thank you, for helping I mean,” you say.

“Don’t mention it. I know how shit it feels. I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks,” JJ tells you.

There’s a shuffle as he moves to sit on the floor. He retracts his hand from your knee and you immediately miss the feel. Opening your eyes, you look at him with a frown.

“You have?”

“Mhm,” he nods. “John B had to calm me down almost everyday at one point. It sucked.”

“Is that where you learnt that trick?”

“Yeah,” JJ says, offering a small smile. “It’s a good distraction.”

You nod. You’ve never tried it before. Always found that you could ground yourself with your breathing, but everything out there was too much, too crazy, for you to focus. Correcting how you sit, crossing your legs (the skater skirt smoothing out over your thighs), you sigh and hang your head.

“I hate parties.”

JJ chuckles. “No kidding.”

You snort, shaking your head.

“But hey, least you look pretty though.”

You look up. There’s very little energy left in you to overthink what he’s just said. No room left to panic.

“I do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I like your costume.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. Your fingers move down to mess with the hem of your skirt.

“Who’re you meant to be?”

You can’t help but bark out a laugh. “How can you like my costume when you don’t even know who I am?”

JJ laughs, after seemingly being taken aback by your outburst. “I dunno. I like that skirt on you.”

“I’m Bubbles. From the Powerpuff Girls,” you tell him as your laughter dies down.

Realisation flashes across his face as quick as a comet darting through the sky. “Oh! Oh shit, of course!”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Hell yeah!” JJ grins. “Mojo Jojo was my favourite character as a kid!”

“Ugh, he’s iconic,” you groan happily, tossing your head back.

“That one episode, when he gets told off by the professor,” JJ reminisces excitedly.

“I loved that one!”

The two of you laugh.

“Who’re you meant to be?”

“Um…Well, I didn’t get the memo it’s a costume party,” he admits with a wince, smiling.

“You could say you’re from…The Hangover?” you offer after a moment’s thought.

JJ cringes. “That might be worse than just saying I forgot to wear a costume.”

You laugh, nodding. “True.”

There’s a brief moment where the two of you just look at one another, smiling contently. You always knew JJ was pretty (as Pansy so graciously revealed to Kie earlier), but up close, under the white light of the bathroom, he’s gorgeous. A cute smile, shining eyes. The most perfect jawline that you could write reams of songs about just on its own.

“Think this is the most you’ve ever spoken to me,” JJ points out.

Your smile turns solemn, nodding. When you reply, you talk quietly, as if revealing a secret.

“I’m not very good at talking to people.”

“Can I ask you a question, then?”

“Mhm.”

“Why’d you come to this house party? Doesn’t really seem to be your scene,” JJ asks.

Nodding, affirming his theory, you shrug and look down at his feet. He’s wearing black boots, shiny and heavy.

“It’s Pansy’s birthday, and she’s always been a big birthday fan. She’s one of my closest friends and she’s always there for me; always has my back. So, I figure, I can hack one night of the year at a stupid, over-the-top party for her. And usually I can…But I guess, I just couldn’t tonight.”

As you finish talking, you lift your head to take in JJ’s reaction. He’s nodding, a small smile still on his face.

“You’re a good friend.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You are,” he affirms. Your face goes warm and you shrug. Laughing, he adds, “you’re also shit at accepting compliments. I noticed that when we first met after your gig.”

You chuckle. Looking up to the ceiling, you feel your confession bubbling out of you, likely driven by the alcohol. “Yeah, well, all what I remember after the gig is thinking that you didn’t like me.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” you say, chuckling in self-deprecation. You meet JJ’s eyes, see the confusion shining in them. “You sorta seemed uninterested to talk to me. Which is fine, I figured you would be. But after the fishing shop - and now tonight - I’m starting to think I was wrong?”

“Yeah, you’re wrong,” JJ laughs. He’s not laughing at you, though. It’s almost as if he’s laughing at himself.

He rocks his head back and nods at the ceiling, pursing his lips in thought.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like that, at The Wreck. It’s just…Kiara told me you were kinda quiet, before we met, and I’m kind of…not. I didn’t wanna freak you out or anything, so I tried to be more chill. Guess it had the opposite effect though.”

There’s a selcouth feeling in your body when JJ speaks. It’s like something in your chest lurches. In your stomach, there’s a feeling like the butterflies you get before a show, but they’re sweeter and gentler, as if calming down in preparation to cocoon. As if the nerves are fading and you’re desensitised.

He looks back down at you, right into your eyes, and you wonder if he can see into your thoughts. If he can see how much you like him.

“Well, I think we’re friends now, so, no hard feelings,” you tentatively say. JJ cracks a smile, nodding.

“Yeah. We’re friends,” he assures you.

Strange, how something that you thought would bring you so much joy only makes you feel a little bit worse than before.

~*~*~*~*~*

It’s dark in the chateau, the kitchen counter only illuminated by a single orange-hued lamp. You’re halfway measuring out some sugar when you think you hear a noise. The creak of a floorboard. Frowning, you hesitantly start towards the corridor, where the sound’s coming from. Maybe something got in the house? A raccoon?

JJ rounds the corner the same time you do, almost bumping into you. He lets out a yelp and grabs at his heart, the same time you jump back about ten feet.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasps, laughing. “You scared the shit outta me.”

“Sorry,” you smile in apology (as if he hadn’t made you almost crap yourself too).

“Thought you were Big John’s ghost or something,” JJ mumbles, rubbing at his face tiredly.

You frown, walking back to the counter where you’d previously been. “Are you saying I look like John B’s dad?”

“No you- That’s not – You look very womanly-”

He cuts off his rambles with a sigh, shaking his head as he laughs at himself. Running his fingers through his bedhead, he seems to come to a realisation that you’re not usually at the chateau.

“Wait? What are you even doing here? It’s late.”

“Went surfing with Kie. Got tired, took a nap on the pull-out, woke up about ten minutes ago,” you explain, keeping your voice soft as to not wake-up John B.

“Can’t fall back asleep?” JJ asks.

“Wide awake.”

“Damn. Hate when that happens. How come you’re in the kitchen?”

“Thought I’d make brownies,” you shrug. You pick up the box of cocoa powder and the bag of flour, showing them to JJ. “You guys have all the ingredients.”

“God, brownies sound so good right now,” JJ moans, tossing his head back.

Laughing, you go back to measuring out flour with a cup. JJ goes to the fridge. The white light shines bright on his face. There’s the indent of the pillow on his cheek. His eyes are squinting against the light, a little bleary from sleep.

“Come to think, the last time I had brownies, they were these amazing edibles,” he says as he searches for something to take.

“Oh? Were they good?”

“So good,” he says. JJ grabs a carton of juice and hops onto the far counter to sit, taking swigs.

“I probably have enough stuff to bake a batch of edibles too, to be honest,” you offer after a moment’s thought. Looking to him, hands dusted with flour, you ask, “you got enough to spare?”

“Hell yeah!” JJ grins.

Ever since you and JJ bonded at the party, you feel as though there’s been a barrier removed. He isn’t as scary as you thought he would be. Easier to talk to than you imagined.

“I’ve always kinda wanted to try them,” you admit.

“Wait, have you ever smoked before?”

You chuckle down at the bowl, then sarcastically ask, “What do you think?”

“Really?” JJ gapes. “I thought you’d be all for it. It’d probably help you relax and stuff…”

He almost cuts himself off, as if trying to reel in his words. “I…I mean…”

You can’t help but glance to him, face serious as you deadpan, “what do you mean? I’m like the most laid-back person ever.”

JJ’s crystal-clear panic that he’s genuinely offended you has you breaking your façade with a quiet laugh.

“I’m joking. I’m probably the most high-strung person ever. Feel like weed was kinda made for me.”

JJ laughs too, giving a small sigh of relief.

“I’m kinda curious to see what you’re like high,” he tells you.

“Me too. Hopefully it doesn’t have me bouncing off the walls,” you say.

“Nah. That’s coke that’ll do that to you. Hard to imagine you on coke.”

“You tried it?” You wonder, non-judgemental as you ask.

JJ shrugs. He has another swig of juice. The muscle tee he’s wearing hangs lose on his built frame.

“Once or twice. My dad’s sorta a junkie though. Put me off, you know?”

“Shit. I’m sorry,” you softly reply.

JJ hadn’t mentioned his family a lot, but neither had you and neither does anybody. You’d heard the passing news of JJ’s dad being involved in some sort of pharmacy robbery in the county for Oxytocin, but never dug about. It wasn’t any of your business, and the malicious world of medicine and addiction wasn’t some black and white picture like the Kooks at school liked to paint it out to be.

Shrugging it off, clearly not in the mood to get into it, JJ asks, “was that fishing stuff you got for your dad useful?”

“Yeah,” you say. You’ve started on the wet ingredients now: cracking eggs into a measuring jug. “His exact words were, ‘I never knew you had such a gift for fishing’. I think I’m gonna become his fish-fetching-bitch now.”

JJ barks out a laugh. “You know, I never expected you to be funny.”

You roll your eyes as you begin to fold the wet ingredients into the dry. “I’m not.”

“You are. You’re also cute when you bake.”

“Can you not compliment me?” you nervously chuckle. “It makes me uncomfortable. Not cause of you, it’s just…I’m not good with the complimenting thing.”

“Too late. It’s my life’s mission to get you to actually accept a compliment without going all-”

You catch him do an overemphasised impression of you becoming flustered. You scrunch your nose in light-hearted disapproval. He grins at you as he snaps out of the character.

“-You know?”

“Well, I hope you’ve got a long life,” is all you say. “Wanna grab the goods?”

JJ hops off the counter with newfound fever, making you laugh. When he returns, he stands beside you, juice carton ditched to the side. He smells like soap and weed and smoke from the bonfire. You go to grab the plastic bag from him but he pulls it out of reach, looking down at you in disapproval.

“What?”

“This is Kildare’s finest bud,” JJ scorns. He gently places it in your hand. Cupping your fingers around it, he envelopes your hand with his. His touch is warm. “You gotta treat it with care. It’s the meaning of life itself.”

“I thought the meaning of life was enlightenment,” you mumble, distracted. You’re pretty sure your heart might beat out of your chest.

“Meh. Depends who you ask.”

He takes his hand off yours and let’s you open the bag. The smell of marijuana hits, full force. Before you go to mix it in, you need to check the brownie base is up to scratch. You’ve been perfecting your recipe for years. Dipping in a finger, you suck it clean, debating the flavour. Unsure, you grab for the spatula and scoop some batter up, holding it out to JJ without thinking. You’re a little surprised to catch him staring at you.

“Wanna try?”

For once, JJ doesn’t say anything. Just takes the spatula and has a lick. His eyes widen. “Oh my god. That’s so good.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s amazing.”

“I’ve made better,” you find yourself saying, and maybe he has a point about the whole compliments’ thing…

You tip in some of the bud as JJ finishes licking the spatula clean.

“You’re like a triple thread, aren’t you?” JJ says.

As you mix, moving to prop the bowl against your waist, cradled in your arm, you frown.

“A triple thread?”

Listing with the spatula, he says, “She can bake, she can sing—”

“—she’s socially inept,” you sarcastically finish.

“You’re not socially inept,” JJ says. When he dips the spatula back in for a second taste, you don’t bother fighting back. “Just a little quiet, is all.”

“No, no, I’m like a lost cause,” you chuckle. “I’m fine with it, for the most part. I just don’t like not knowing what people are gonna ask me. I get all nervous, thinking I’m gonna make a fool of myself or something. It all just snowballs until it’s easier to just…not try.”

JJ nods, listening, licking the plastic utensil clean.

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe it’s good that you’re a quiet person. Helps balance out the world,” he offers.

“How’d you mean?”

“Like, I’m one end of the spectrum, yeah?” He gestures wildly to one side of the kitchen. “And then you’re the other.”

His theatrics create an imaginary continuum. He lists his friends, labelling them on this make-believe spectrum, doing it in such a way that has you laughing at his antics.

“Think people sometimes forget being quiet isn’t the same as being boring,” JJ thinks aloud.

You smile. It’s a nice way to summarise it. You’re not a rock: you enjoy spending time with friends and you have hobbies and interests. When you feel in control of the situation, you can even tolerate crowds. But when you don’t speak a lot, loiter around at parties or keggers, and get nervous to read in front of a class, people make an assumption that you’re dull. There’s not much coming out of your mouth so there can’t be much going on in your head. It’s almost a relief to hear from JJ, of all people, that not everybody thinks that way. Makes your heart do funny things, as if he didn’t already have enough power over your emotions.

JJ leans in to take one more scoop from the bowl. As he does, his shirt slips forward enough for you to catch a glimpse of a hickey on his collarbone. Fresh purple, not yet bruising. It hurts more than you expect it to. A clear-cut reminder of who he is, and who you’re not, and who you never will be. That JJ sees you nothing more than a friend – Kie’s friend – and that he’d never look your way because…Well, because why would he?

You distract yourself by looking back down into the bowl, continuing to mix.

The two of you finish preparing the brownies and set them to cook in the oven. As you wait, you sit on the opposite counter to him, falling into a conversation about surfing and snacks. He’s fighting for justice for peanut-butter jelly sandwiches whilst you’re battling for the recognition of Nutella sandwiches. It’s easy and comfortable, and as the sun slips into view through the window – its rays chasing up the floorboards – the brownies cook and cool, and you do your best to enjoy the moment and not think about the hickey on his chest.

~*~*~*~*~*

Now that summer had begun and school had ended, it felt the days stretched on for miles. Light mornings and lighter nights. Good weather near daily. The odd hurricane warning and occasional storm to give the water a drink, and then back to beauty. You decided not to waste a minute of it. Most days were spent with you band, writing songs and practising for gigs. Pansy was constantly on the search for new shows and venues that would let you play. Kiara’s parents were already talking about letting you guys do another gig at The Wreck. Benny had taken it on to try and teach you how to play the drums, even though it was halfway hopeless. It meant that you’d been hanging out at his house a lot more. You didn’t mind; liked his company.

Kiara had you hanging out with the Pogues near daily too. You’d become a regular at the chateau, with Pansy sometimes tagging along, and had felt more and more comfortable around all the guys. Especially JJ. Whatever awkwardness that used to linger between the two of you had mostly vanished. He didn’t seem to hold back anymore; being his usual, effervescent self. ‘Young, dumb and broke’, Kie dubbed him.

“Hey, are you listening?” Benny asks you from behind the drum kit.

You look up from your phone, having read a text from Kie. We’ll be at Benny’s in five minutes.

“Just replying to Kie,” you tell him. “I’m going surfing with the Pogues.”

“Surfing? Since when did you like surfing?”

“Since this summer,” you shrug, pocketing your phone. You get up from your spot on the floor and walk around the drum kit, standing by his side.

Benny practised in his garage. His dad had soundproofed the place. Today was a hot one, leaving you no choice but to open the front shutter. The picture-book street he lived on was mostly empty, asides from the odd couples walking their dog or a kid flashing by on their bicycle.

You glance down at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Play it again?”

He smiles up at you and begins to play a beat, lips flattening in concentration. You smile as you watch him play. Some people are born musicians. They have a gift to find rhythm, can escape within it. Benny was one of those people. For someone so quiet, you found it funny how he settled on choosing the loudest instrument.

You nod your head to the beat. Shouting over the kick-drum, you say, “it sounds good! Think Pansy’ll find a good riff for it?”

“I’m more excited to hear your lyrics,” he loudly returns.

Coming up with lyrics hadn’t been any problem as of late. Your inspiration had never been more fruitful, for good and for bad, all thanks to a certain blonde haired boy.

He finished the repetitive rhythm, ending with the hi-hat. As he looks up at you, shaking his ginger hair off his damp forehead, he smiles.

“Your hair looks pretty today,” he tells you.

You take your hand from off his shoulder to touch at it, as if on reflex. “It does?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Thanks,” you say, smiling. “You don’t look to bad yourself, for it being like one-hundred degrees outside.”

Benny’s cheeks shine pink. He looks down at the drum kit in thought. “You wanna give it a try?”

“The drums?”

“Mhm.”

“I thought we’d learnt by now that me and drums don’t mix,” you laugh, shaking your head.

Benny won’t seem to take no for an answer, shoving the sticks into your hands. “Just, give it a try. You’re good at everything.”

“Not true,” you sing-song, but oblige in taking his seat.

Joking around, you tap a beat above your head on the sticks, counting yourself in like a rockstar. Then, you’re stumbling through a simple beat, laughing at your frequent mistakes. Benny’s smiling at you – you can see it in your peripheral – and nodding along as if you’re playing like a pro.

“Yo! Didn’t know Travis Barker lives here?”

At the sound of JJ’s shout, you stop and look up, laughing.

“Yeah. The Kardashian’s are just across the street,” you joke along. Benny comes to stand behind you as the rest of the Pogues walk into the garage.

“I’d believe it. Anything’s possible in Kook land,” John B shrugs.

Pope’s sauntering behind. “You ready to go surfing?”

“Yeah. Just need to grab my bag from the kitchen,” you say.

There’s the sudden feel of Benny’s hands on your shoulders, squeezing gently. He brushes some of your hair off one of them as he replies. “I’ll go grab it for you.”

Blinking away the surprise, you turn to catch a glimpse of the boy’s back as he darts into the house. That was weird.

Kiara starts talking about the waves they’ve already spotted. You move to stand, looking back to the Pogues to see that JJ’s staring at the door that Benny just went through. His hands are in his short pockets, jaw locked tight, as if he’s annoyed. That makes two weird things.

Walking over to your friends, laughing under breath at a joke John B makes, you nudge your shoulder against JJ’s bicep, hoping to lighten his mood. He looks down at you and smiles, tension somewhat fading. Benny returns with your bag, handing it to you, and you give him a wave farewell. Then, yourself and the Pogues are heading out the garage and into the banged-up Twinkie.

By the time you get to the beach, it’s late afternoon. Sunset is beginning to creep, teasing at the earth by patterning the sky with pink and orange. That doesn’t put the five of you off surfing. Instead, it’s like it spurs you on. Paddling out deeper into the waves, you hear Kiara give a small ‘whoop’ as you all turn to watch John B ride on the water. The rest of you are quick to join. You know how to surf; learnt when you were a kid. Having never had many friends, you didn’t surf all that often. But after meeting Kie – an avid surfer – and now hanging out with the Pogues, you found yourself out on the water more and more.

After an hour or so of surfing, the sky nearing dusk, you and JJ take a moment. JJ sits on his board, floating near you. You look down at your legs, kicking back and forth leisurely in the water.

“You have fun at Benny’s?” JJ asks.

You glance over to him. He’s watching the Pogues surf.

“I guess,” you shrug. “We’re working on some new stuff.”

JJ nods. His wet hair makes the highlights of blonde darker, curling slightly at the ends from the sea salt. It hangs shaggy over his face. Bare back, muscles taught, freckle-kissed from being out all day.

“Why are you acting all weird?” you can’t help but ask.

He looks to you. “I’m not acting weird.”

“Yes, you kinda are.”

“I’m not.”

“JJ, things haven’t been weird with us since the party. I don’t want them to go back to how they were before.”

“It’s not weird!”

“Look, if I did something—”

“You didn’t do anything, alright? It’s all good,” JJ insists. He nods at you, affirmingly, but you can’t shake the feeling that he’s lying.

You sigh and lay on your back on the board. Closing your eyes, you bask in the remnants of sunlight. If he doesn’t want to talk, you won’t force it. You know more than anyone how awful it feels to have words forced out of you.

The moment of bliss is interrupted by the feeling of cold, seawater splashing over you. You gasp, sitting up in shock. JJ’s laughing his ass off, hands on his chest. You glare through a smile and shake your head.

“Oh, you’re in for it, Maybank.”

His laughter doesn’t cease. He’s looking to you again, quirking a brow. “Oh, am I?”

“Uh huh,” you grin. You kick a splash at him, barely making enough to cover his legs.

“That was pitiful.”

“Shut up,” you chide.

“You Kooks can’t do anything right.”

With that, you’re jumping off your board and swimming over to his. He doesn’t have time to paddle away. You come to a stop by the side of his board and splash at him from up close, getting him perfectly in the face. He winces, laughing, spluttering out some water that seeps into his mouth.

“That’s cheating!”

You roll your eyes and grin, hoisting yourself onto his board. He starts to protest through his laughs, moving to wrestle you off, and in the process, you end up pulling him into the water with you. The two of you emerge, laughing, drenched like drowned rats. You brush your hair out of your face and wipe the water out of your eyes. When you open them, blinking past the sting of the salt, JJ’s watching you. There’s a strange look on his face, one that you think you might’ve seen before. The longer you look at him, the shadow of a smile resting comfortably on your sun-kissed cheeks, the easier you find to place it. From the gig, during the last song, when he seemed almost absent in thought.

Before you can dwell much longer, JJ seems to snap himself out of his haze. He shakes his hair of the water and pulls himself back onto his board.

“We should probably start heading back to shore,” he says.

That was weird.

You frown but don’t argue. Returning to your board, you listen as JJ hollers that the two of you are heading back to land, and then you both start to paddle. The gang soon follows. Wading out the water, carrying your board, the five of you head to where you’d dumped your stuff. JJ makes quick work of building a fire. Pope and Kiara dip into the snacks and drinks you’d brought, passing them around. You dig about in one of the bags for some water, instead coming out with a Uke. The stickers on it hint at it being Kie’s. Hanging onto it, you look around and decide to take the empty spot on the sand next to JJ. The water from your wet hair dribbles down your back. In the embers, you feel yourself beginning to dry.

JJ hands you a cider, taking the cap off using the pocketknife you bought him. You have a sip.

“That was a pretty good surf,” Kie says, leaning back on her forearms.

Pope’s taken out his book, using his hoodie as a makeshift pillow to sit against as he reads.

“Just think tomorrow, we get to do it all again,” John B grins.

Kie clinks the neck of her bottle with his. “Here’s to that.”

Sand working as a makeshift bottle holder, you’ve taken to picking out random notes on the uke, absentmindedly tuning it.

“What you up to tomorrow?” JJ asks.

You look up at him. He’s put his cap back on; a green one, worn around the edges of the beak.

“Chilling out at home and practising, I think. Pansy managed to get us a gig at the June-Jam.”

“Wait, isn’t that kinda a big deal?” Kiara says. She must’ve been eavesdropping.

You shrug. “It’s only a fifteen-minute slot.”

“But the June-Jam Fair?”

“Yeah, folks from all over the county come out for that,” John B agrees, smiling.

“My dad’s setting up a shop there,” Pope tells you, looking up from his book. “If you guys need a snack, he’ll hook you up for free.”

“Thanks,” you smile, grateful.

“When is it?”

“Couple weeks’ time.”

“We’re coming,” Kiara declares. You chuckle, flustered and flattered at once.

“You don’t have to.”

“Well, we are, so…”

“You gonna play any of the new stuff you’ve been working on?” JJ wonders.

“Maybe,” you say. Fingers still chipping away at the strings, you shrug. “Got a few ideas that’re coming together.”

“Gonna play my favourite?”

“Of course,” you say. Rear view. He’d mentioned several times since hanging out with you how much he liked that song.

JJ sighs and moves to rest his head on your thighs. You don’t complain. Feel your heart stammer at having him so near, so comfortable in your presence. He takes his pocketknife out and begins to mess with it. The campfire light reflects off the blade as it zips in and out of sight.

John B and Kie have fallen into a conversation of their own and Pope is lost to the world of fiction.

“Why’d you like that song so much? I’ve written better ones,” you ask JJ.

He shrugs. Tips his cap over his face, as if taking a nap. “Just makes me think of things. I like the lyrics.”

“What kinda things?”

“Family things, maybe? Maybe not,” JJ vaguely replies. You hum, nodding.

You stare at the crackling fire. Small sheds of burnt up wood spit off into the air, fading away like dust, hiding into the smoke. There’s the cosy smell it churns up, tinted with the sea water that’s coated your skin. The rustle of movement has you looking back down to JJ, watching him retrieve a blunt and his lighter. He sighs. Balancing the joint between his lips, he flicks the lighter to life. On the metal of it is his carved initials. JJ. As you watch him take a drag, overcome with the smell of weed, you wonder how your life lined up in a way to end up here. Fifth grade you would have a fit if she knew you were hanging out with JJ Maybank. Hell, current you isn’t far off doing the same.

He's so effortlessly pretty. Maybe it’s because he has an aura about him that he doesn’t care what people think. Self-assured and light – all that you envy. There’s the faded colouring of a bruise on the apple of his cheek from a scruff he got into at a kegger the other night. The thought of the kegger that you didn’t attend makes your head stammer.

It seems whenever you let yourself fade into the fantasies of wondering what it might be like to have JJ as more than a friend (if he were to ever lean that way towards you), reality always finds a way to sink in. The reality that JJ is the loudest example of an extrovert, and you the spitting image of an introvert. He can pull chicks any time he wants, practically just has to look at them to have them swoon. Lies as if it’s second nature and strikes up conversations with strangers as though they’re lifelong friends. Crowds don’t make him uneasy and he can glide through a house party without needing to hide in the bathroom during a meltdown. He’s funny and charming and likeable.

But you? You spend your evenings sat in your room or on the porch, song writing, living in the safety of a daydream. Baking into the early hours of the morning and socialising with a select few individuals who had the patience to get to know you. Quiet and simple and boring. What the hell would JJ want with that?

Sighing, you hear yourself strumming out a melody. It seems to have naturally emerged from trial and error of messing with notes. You look down to watch your fingers work. There’s a melancholic undertone to the tune you’ve found, different to the one Pansy had shown you on the guitar, when the song had started to form.

Kiara and John B’s conversation momentarily dwindles at the sound of your playing. You try not to be discouraged, knowing they don’t mind the disturbance. JJ takes another hit of the bud, blowing it out and up into the air. After the chorus, you let the music fade away; the song’s only half-finished.

“That new?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding. You’re looking at the stickers: Animal Rights in a pink, cartoon love heart…

“You’ve got the prettiest voice,” JJ quietly tells you. So quiet, you’re not entirely sure he did say it, or if you’ve contorted the murmurs of John B and Kie’s conversation, and the crackles of the fire, and the slosh of the waves, into something of a fantasy.

But, when you look down to him, he’s got this vacant smile on his face. “I’m real glad Kie introduced us.”

“Me too,” you smile.

Under his gaze, you feel how you imagine flowers do when the sun allows them to bloom. It’s a blissful rarity, to be affected by someone in such a way. Overwhelming, even. You force yourself to look away, towards the fire.

It hurts too much to stare at something you can’t have.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The June-Jam Fair comes around faster than you expect. It’s like being caught off guard like a lorry switching lanes without indicating. You only feel half prepared when you and the band are loading up Benny’s dad’s van.

“Who packed the back-up wires?” Pansy worries.

“I did,” Mike grunts, lifting one of the amps into the hold.

“Microphone stand?”

“Got it,” you say, sliding in a box of electronics.

“Okay, then, I think that’s everything,” she mumbles.

She’s spent the last ten minutes running through a mental list of every piece of musical equipment to ever exist. You wouldn’t be surprised if on the way to the fair, she starts listing off all the ways the show could go wrong (though that does seem more Benny’s style): guitar string breaking; microphone stops working; nuclear strike…

It’s hard to believe that the gig at The Wreck was three months ago, now. You’d spent the majority of the previous months hanging out with the Pogues, finding it hard to fathom how you killed the hours before knowing them.

As the four of you load into the van, with you and Benny in the front, Mike takes control of the aux. As him and Pansy sing along, venting out their pre-show nerves, you strike up conversation with the ginger haired boy. He’s been quiet – quieter than usual – with his fingers tapping on the steering wheel, a drummer’s habit.

“I feel like I haven’t spoken to you in ages,” you half-laugh, somewhat awkward. “Summer’s going so fast.”

“Well, you dip at the end of nearly every band practise to hang out with your new friends, so,” Benny grumbles.

He seems mad about it, more than you expected him to be.

“I don’t ‘dip’, I just head-out,” you say.

“Yeah. All the time,” Benny mumbles.

Frowning, you say sincerely, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was bothering you guys so much. I just like hanging out with the Pogues. They’re fun.”

Benny sighs, shaking his head. “No, it’s cool. It’s just…I just missing having you around, is all.”

“But, I am around. I still come to band practise. Hell, we all got breakfast the other day.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he says, shaking his head once more. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If it’s messing with our friendship then it does matter, Benny,” you say.

You see him debate whether to expand or not. In the end, he does. As he speaks, he looks at you.

“I miss me and you hanging out, is what I mean.”

Your lips part. Oh. “Well, we can still do that.”

“We can?”

“Yeah, of course,” you smile. “How about tomorrow we go for food or something?”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Why not tonight?” he wonders, looking back to the road.

“I’m hanging out with the Pogues tonight,” you say, apologetically. “JJ and Kie and everyone.”

“JJ,” Benny repeats. He says it under breath, in a scoff, like he didn’t mean to let it slip.

You frown. “What? Don’t you like him?”

“No, yeah, he’s…He’s a character,” Benny settles on, giving you the briefest of looks as he replies. “I just don’t see why he’d wanna hang around with you so much.”

You try and ignore the sting of his words, digging into your chest like the horn of a thistle. “What’d you mean?”

“You two barely have anything in common. I just find it kinda weird how you get along so well,” Benny explains. His voice is always gentle, soft and non-demanding, but somehow it doesn’t lessen the blow. “You talk about him all the time. All the dumb shit you get up to. Not to mention how much weed you’ve been smoking with him. Just find it weird how you’re suddenly the type of person who gets along with JJ Maybank.”

“Well, I just…am,” you say, shrugging. Off put from the conversation, you look out the passenger window.

“I know you like him.”

Crap. Your stomach flips. “No, I don’t.”

“Of course you do,” Benny says, laughing. “Who doesn’t? He’s an attractive guy, I’m not stupid. He’s an adrenaline junky and a bad-boy, and everybody loves a bad-boy, don’t they?”

“He’s not a ‘bad-boy’, Benny. Sides, who actually says that, outside of the movies?” you add, hoping to recover the exchange into something light.

“He’s trouble, is what he is,” Benny tells you. His voice is firm and definitive. The way he says it makes you think back to the fishing shop, and how the cashier was watching JJ like a hawk.

“He’s not trouble,” you reply, trying not to keep your tone softer. “He’s nice.”

“Nice,” Benny scoffs. Licking his teeth, he nods, staring ahead at the road. “Sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

The foul taste from the conversation with Benny doesn’t ease up for the rest of the journey. It lingers in your throat as you set-up on stage and comes back, full force, when the Pogues come over to greet you. Wish you luck for the show. The rough feeling of JJ’s knuckles, and the cold press of his rings, when you fist bump him. How he knows that you don’t like to hug before shows, with your anxiety sky-high. As you sing through the songs, talk to the crowd, work through the nerves that never fully fade, you find yourself looking to JJ more and more. Whenever you do, there’s Benny’s voice in the back of your head, almost judgemental as he repeats the mantra: ‘I just don’t see why he’d wanna hang around with you so much.’

Was he right? Does JJ just like seeing how he can make you nervous? Enjoys watching you squirm and fumble through social interactions, wade through his compliments as gracefully as a paralysed ballet dancer?

No, he’s not mean. He’s kind and he’s soft with you, but not in a way that makes you feel like you’re made of glass. He knows how to joke with you, how to get a laugh from you. Knows how far to push and when to pull back. JJ knows you. He’s your friend. He wants to be your friend. Doesn’t he?

Or did Kie talk to him, after all? He’d said how she’d told him you were quiet before the gig at The Wreck, as if warning him off. After the party, how do you know that she didn’t hunt him down before he bumped into you in the bathroom? That she told him about your pathetic school-girl crush, and it bolstered his ego, and he found himself trapped in this awkward thing of having to be friends with the weird, quiet girl who has an unattainable crush on him…

As your overthinking goes to hell quicker than a penny falling from the Empire State Building, you manage to keep up with the songs and belt out the lyrics. You can’t bring yourself to look at JJ when you conclude on Rear View. Have to close your eyes. The lyrics sting a bit too much. More than they usually do.

The Pogues are waiting at the end of the show.

“That was dope, you guys! Everyone loved it!” Kiara buzzes, high-fiving Pansy.

“Might be our best show yet,” Mike agrees, nodding. He’s packing away his bass.

“We’re gonna head off in about ten minutes or so,” Kie says.

“Pope’s meeting us at the Chateau later. His dad roped him into helping out,” John B tells you.

“You guys are coming right?” Kie asks the four of you.

Mike looks up from his spot near the amp, unplugging wires. “I’m gonna pass. Got a date.”

“You’ve got a date?” Pansy gapes.

“Yeah?”

“With who?”

“This chick I met at your birthday party,” he shrugs. You have a vague memory of seeing him talking to a girl, before you went up to him that night.

“Why are you so secretive, Mike? What other second-lives are you leading?” Pansy teases.

Mike rolls his eyes, giving a covert smiling. “They die with me. I’ll see y’all later.”

As he waves farewell and walks away, Pansy shakes her head, almost impressed. “God bless that weird, strange man.”

“So that leaves three?” John B checks, pointing to you three.

You still haven’t looked at JJ. Pansy answers on your behalf. “Well, us two definitely are. Benny?”

“I’ll pass. I’ve got a curfew,” Benny says.

“Most Kook thing I’ve ever heard,” JJ sniggers.

“Yeah? Well, I’m sure it’s nice having parents who don’t give a shit,” Benny replies sharply.

You frown. Looking to Benny, your eyes are narrowed in confusion.

JJ frowns too, only for different reasons. Staring him down, he stands a head higher.

“What’d you say, princess?”

“Look, man, I’m sorry your dad’s a criminal but I don’t see what that’s gotta do with me.”

JJ’s jaw goes rigid. His body tenses. Anger comes over him suddenly like a hurricane. He takes a step forward, gladly getting in Benny’s face. JJ’s taller, broader, stronger. Benny’s hours spent playing the drums don’t stand a chance in a round with him.

“You wanna say that again, Kook?”

“Guys, come on,” Kie says, trying to step between them.

“You like messing with her, huh? You having fun with it? Like having her gawking after you?” Benny bites back.

His eyes flit to you as he talks. Your heart fractures.

JJ shoves him on the chest. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, man.”

“I know who you are, JJ. Everybody does. You don’t fool me, with this whole good-guy act you’ve got going on with her. You’re messing her up. Getting her to do drugs with you and shit? You’re gonna end up hurting her, like you hurt everybody else. Just what you Pogues do.”

“Benny, what the hell?” you whisper.

JJ isn’t as silent in his anger. He swings a punch, knocking Benny straight in the cheek, sending him backwards against the stage. Some stranger from the fair exclaims when they catch sight. John B immediately steps in between. JJ is reluctant to backdown, standing over Benny, urging him to fight back. When Benny goes to do retaliate, you come to your senses and step up. You grab for his wrist before he can throw his punch.

“Don’t be an idiot, Benny,” you snap.

His eyes flash to you. Something behind them seems to break. He hides it with anger. “You’re taking his side?”

“I’m not taking anybody’s side,” you say, annoyed. “This is pathetic. Both of you.”

As you talk, you let your eyes glance to JJ. He’s breathing heavy, still pissed, but takes a step back at your disapproval.

“We’re at a Goddamn family fair. Both of you need to get your shit together,” you tell them sharply.

You let go of Benny’s wrist and walk off, heart beating out your chest. You hate confrontation. Hate when people fight.

Kiara and Pansy come after you, both of them bitching about how useless boys are. You fold your arms across your chest and blink back tears. No matter what emotion you experience, it always seems to resolve with waterworks. It’s then, as you think back to the altercation, that you hardly recognise the memory of Benny in that moment. It’s so disappointing when you see who people for who they truly are, beneath all the personas, only for them to end up being fickle and fake.

Your feet carry you to the back-ends of the fair, lit up by the remnants of daylight. It’s nothing but storage containers, vans and trucks, the odd horse and animal box from the farm-show. You take perch on the step of one of the empty caravans. Pansy and Kiara sit beside you, the former coiling her arms around you in a hug. You place your head in your hands and let out a few tears. There’s no point fighting them off.

“JJ is so stupid sometimes,” Kie mutters.

“No kidding. And Benny? Pushing at him like that?”

“Asking for a fight.”

“Guys are so dumb,” Pansy concludes with a sigh, shaking her head.

You sit up and wipe your cheeks.

“Where’s your head at, hun?” she asks you, softly.

Shaking your head, you scoff. “I have no idea. I don’t understand why Benny would say things like that. Why he’d lash out at JJ like that, about me.”

“Well, it’s cause he likes you,” Pansy says plainly.

You shoot her a look of pure bewilderment. “What?”

“Girl, it’s so obvious,” she chuckles, sympathy in her gaze. “The guy practically follows after you like a love-sick puppy.”

“She’s right, you know? Even I can see it,” Kie confirms.

You look between the two of them. Benny? Seriously?

You’ve spent so much of your life alone, out of the minds of boys and girls, void of compliments, that you find it hard to believe anybody might have a thing for you. Least of all, Benny. Sweet, quiet, unassuming Benny. Well, until tonight, that is.

But come to think…The last few months, he’s been weird. The random compliments he’s been dropping, when he never used to before. That time in the garage, when he messed with your hair and put his hands on your shoulders. The car ride today, disapproving of JJ.

“I know you like him.”

The penny drops.

“He’s…jealous?” you whisper.

“No duh, dumbass,” Kiara mutters.

“But- Wait, of what?”

Your life feels as though it has suddenly become a teenage rom-com after being nothing but years of a podcast of white-noise a person could fall asleep.

“Of JJ,” Kie answers, as if it’s obvious.

“Why in the hell would he be jealous of JJ?”

A look gets shared between Pansy and Kiara.

“Because JJ has a thing for you too…”

“JJ does not have a thing for me,” you snort. “He doesn’t have a thing for me, alright? You guys are way off.”

“Hun—”

“No, he doesn’t, alright?” you can’t help but snap at Kie. The emotions of the last few months are bubbling inside of you. More tears well up. “Why would he? I’m awkward, and I’m useless, and I’m desperate, and I’ve been in love with him since I was a kid and have never done anything about it! I’m pathetic! And he’s…Well, he’s him. He’s funny and charming and fucking gorgeous and…And I’m just me.”

Pansy and Kiara are staring at you with eyes full of pity. They don’t speak, but Kiara grabs at your hand and squeezes it tight.

"Don’t ever talk about yourself like that,” she tells you in a voice that’s firm but sweet, like cookie dough.

“I’ll slap you if you say anything like that again,” Pansy not-so-delicately doubles.

You laugh through your tears at that. Wiping your face, sighing, you look down at the ground.

“I…I think you should really talk to JJ,” Kiara offers. “You can say whatever you want, but I see how he is around you. He’s never like that, with anyone. You bring out a different side of him, and I mean that in the best way.”

“She’s right,” Pansy nods, nudging your shoulder. “I was looking at him through the set, and he had his eyes glued on you.”

“I’m the singer,” you sigh in disagreement.

“Yeah, but I’m the most talented one up there,” Pansy replies, as if it’s obvious. You laugh at her antics. “Everyone should be looking at me.”

Looking to your two friends, you can’t help but feel a swell of gratefulness for having them stick by you. Nodding, you sniff away the last few tears.

“I wanna talk to JJ,” you tell them.

“Perfect,” Kiara says. “He’ll probably be at the chateau. I’ll give you a lift.”

Doing as she says she will, Kie drops you off at the Chateau on her drive home. As you climb out the car, Pansy sticks her head out the back window.

“You sure you wanna go on your own?” she double-checks.

You smile at her. She’s a good friend.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you nod.

She smiles back. “Alright. Now, remember: you’re hot, you’re talented, and you’re a catch-twenty-two.”

“Got it,” you say with a laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Good,” Pansy nods. Mission accomplished. “Go get ‘em.”

You wave farewell to Kie as she pulls back out the driveway and onto the road. The moment the car’s gone, you’re abandoned in darkness. A few birds are giving their final caws of the day, settling down for the night. Crickets and night critters merge with the distant lapping of the water of the marsh. Sighing, you wrap your jumper tighter around yourself in a hug and walk towards the back garden. You’re hoping JJ’s here. Kiara said he should be.

As you round the side of the house, you make out the hammock. It’s swaying lightly. There’s a foot extended out of it, heel of a boot dug into the ground, causing it to rock. The faint puff of smoke that blows up makes you certain it’s him.

“JJ?”

The rocking stops.

You walk a bit closer until you’re in his line of sight. He’s looking down at his hands, one of which is messing with his pocketknife as the other cradles a joint.

“Hey,” you quietly say.

“Hey,” he mumbles. His cap is tilted down, concealing his face slightly.

“How’s your hand?” you ask.

He glances to it. Nods. “It’s fine.”

Nodding, you shift your weight from one foot to the other. “Can I join you?”

He stops fiddling with the knife. There’s an awkward pause before he nods, shifting so you can climb onto the hammock. You take a spot by his feet. He uses his foot as an anchor to steady the sway.

“Did you like the set?”

“Mhm.”

“I played one of the new ones,” you say. He nods, feigning disinterest.

“It was nice,” he says. “Benny help you write it?”

You sigh. “Seriously, JJ?”

He looks up at that. Eyes dazzling in the moonlight. “What?”

“Did you have to hit him?”

“The guy was asking for it, alright? You heard what he said to me, didn’t you?” JJ defends, sitting up.

“Of course, I did. But you can’t just hit anybody who pisses you off.”

“You don’t get it, alright?”

“Sure I don’t,” you reply, sarcastic.

“No, you don’t,” he repeats, firmer. He pushes his cap back as he goes on, blunt momentarily abandoned. “You live in your little Kook world, ignorantly bliss to the shitshow that goes on around you.”

His words set off something inside of you.

“I’m not some stuck-up snob, JJ. Don’t treat me like I am. That’s not fair. Being a Kook and a Pogue has nothing to do with you picking a fight with Benny at the fair.”

JJ laughs, tossing his head back. He wipes a hand down his face. “Oh, you’re so stupid sometimes, you know that? It has everything to do with it!”

“How!? How does that make any sense?” you gape, sitting upright. You wave your arms around. “In what Pogue-Kook universe do you have to pick a fight with Benny? We’re just friends!”

“For someone so quiet, you sure don’t pay attention,” JJ insults, staring you in the eyes.

Your resolve slackens. “Don’t be mean, JJ.”

“According to your little boyfriend, that’s all I can be,” he mutters, looking back down to his pocketknife.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you sigh, exhausted. You rub at your forehead. “I don’t know where all that stuff came from, okay? He’s never acted like that before. I’m so embarrassed, and I’m so sorry he said all that to you, and he was way out of line. I don’t know why he did it.”

“I do! Everyone does! It’s obvious! The guy’s in love with you. He thought he was defending your honour or some shit,” JJ spits.

“He’s not in love with me,” you deny. Maybe he might have a crush on you, but in love? Come on now.

“Seriously? You seriously don’t see it?” JJ says, voice rising again.

You shrug, making a face as if to say ‘no, I really don’t’.

It seems to make him angry again.

“He follows you around all the time! He’s always watching you, alright? Always. He’s looking at you all the time. Complimenting you. Making little jokes, hoping that you’ll laugh. Finding any excuse to spend time with you. Like with that teaching-you-the-drums bullshit? What the hell was that? And don’t get me started on that little display he did in the garage that day! With the hands on the shoulders and stuff and grabbing your bag for you like a little pussy-whipped simp. Helping you out without you even asking for him too--”

“That’s your definition of love?” you practically shout, cutting him off with a scoff. “You do all of that!”

“Exactly!” JJ yells.

Silence.

JJ’s breathing heavy. You see the moment the words catch up. See his face drop into panic, then glaze over as if uninterested. Your mind’s racing, scrambling for purchase and muddling through interpretations…

But…there’s only one though. Right?

JJ looks out to the water. He takes a hit from his joint, almost desperate.

“JJ,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. Looks down at his joint as if it’s something to inspect. As if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “Doesn’t matter, alright?”

“Yes, it does.”

“No-” his clipped tone is cut off with a sigh. You see him close his eyes. Collects himself. There’s a lingering quiet. A mosquito nips at your ankle but you can’t bring yourself to waft it away.

“You don’t know the effect you have on people, do you?” He asks you quietly. He opens his eyes to look out to the water. You’re not sure if you’re meant to answer. Before you can, he’s talking once more.

“Benny’s got almost everything in common with you, okay? He’s rich, he’s got a nice house, nice family. Goes to a good school. I bet he gets good grades, too. Talented. And he’s not the worst looking asshole, alright? So, yeah. It is a Kook-Pogue thing, alright?”

His eyes flit to you for a moment but he doesn’t let them linger. He looks back down to the pocketknife. His thumb dances over the wood of it.

“It was always gonna be a Kook-Pogue thing. The moment that I realised I liked you; I knew there was no chance. I mean, what the hell would you want with a guy like me?”

Oh.

There’s a strange, euphoric feeling that comes after JJ talks. You suddenly feel like you understand why you’ve always gotten along with JJ. It’s like you’ve been staring in a mirror this whole time. It’s then that that you realise that you’re not nervous anymore. That you haven’t been nervous in a while, whenever JJ’s around. That if you ever do feel anxious or unsure, finding his face, meeting his eyes, searching for his smile; it always brings you back. Suddenly, you don’t care about the differences; the small, insignificant things that really don’t matter, when you think about it, because as long as you’ve got JJ, you don’t care what happens.

He says Benny’s got more in common with you, but Benny doesn’t know about the panic attacks or how to ease you back from them. He doesn’t know how to make you laugh; not to the point where you feel your stomach might collapse and your ribs might break. His compliments don’t make you feel like there’s a shot of electricity running through you, quick and painless. With Benny, they’re just nice words, like when a cashier tells you to have a good day. Maybe he’s book smart and plays the drums well, but JJ could tell you anything you want to know about fishing: how, where, when. Mechanics and boats and handy-man tricks. Intelligence wasn’t one thing; it wasn’t just about being able to dissect a Shakespeare quote. And you could sit and listen to him talk all day. The cadence of his voice rising and falling like the tide of the water.

You’ve liked JJ since you were a kid. Since that stupid day on the marsh, when you were frog hunting, and you saw him on the rope swing. He was so funny. So bubbly and lively. Everything you wished you could be. And when he looked at you, through the bushes of the marsh, and smiled…that smile became every inspiration for every song you wrote. The thought in the back of your mind when you conjured up the lyrics. As he got older, he became more beautiful, twisting into the definition of an American heartthrob. Your lives stretched differently and you came to accept that liking him would be a pipedream. Something you could live in your fictional songs. But then came Kiara, and The Wreck, and everything else, and it all lined up so nicely. It was as if an invisible string was tied around your wrist the first day you saw him, guiding you to now.

Right now.

You shift onto your knees and move up the hammock until you’re face to face with JJ. Before either of you has time to think, you’re cupping his jaw and guiding his lips to yours. Under the unsteady purchase of the hammock, you move your free hand to his chest for balance. It’s hard and sturdy. Once the shock slips away, JJ’s kissing you back. One of his hands comes to your face, swiping across your cheek and pushing back some of your hair that’s fallen into your face. His other comes to sit on your waist. Squeezes your skin softly, as if checking that you’re real: joint and pocketknife abandoned. A feeling zips through your body, right down to your toes. It’s indescribable. It’s sweet and mercurial and…it’s JJ. It’s all JJ.

When you pull back, you’re smiling.

JJ’s eyes open slowly. A smile is blooming on his face too, cheeks pink, lips still parted, damp from your touch.

“Okay,” he whispers.

You giggle, biting your lower lip. “Okay?”

“Not what I was expecting,” he admits with a small laugh.

You can’t help but kiss him again, wanting to taste his laughs. He gladly pulls you closer, shifting you so you’re straddling his waist. The more you kiss, the more he eases into touching you, the more you relax into kissing him. Finding a rhythm and a pattern that has the two of you short of breath.

Breaking apart once more, JJ stares at you as if in a trance. The same look from The Wreck and from the ocean. You recognise what it is now.

He strokes a finger across your cheek and you lean into the touch of his palm. Makes him smile brighter.

“You gonna write a song about me now?” he quietly jokes. His eyes flick down to your lips.

You smile, laugh almost silently as you shake your head. Before leaning down to kiss him again, you confess your only remaining secret to him in a whisper.

“They’re already about you. Every single one of them.”

966 notes · View notes

ohdeersthings · 1 year

Text

Beautiful Sounds

Neteyam x Metkayina!Deaf!FReader

Summary: Neteyam finds a way

Warnings: Fluffffffff for daayyys, angst 👀 we are caught up in our feelings, not proof read

A big thank you to @iikatsukii for this idea! I hope you like it, I tried my best 😭😂

Part 2 to this little beauty:

Neteyam thought he could never love anything so much until he met you. Learning your clans ways brought new insights to how the world can be so different but still beautiful. You were an example of that.

Even though you couldn't hear, you learned how to dance with elegance from the vibrations in the sand, he saw the patience you had with children, taking the time to guide them and understand what they needed, sometimes better than their own parents.

What really took his heart was how you found the simple joys of everyday life. The look of bliss on your face when the ocean sprays you with its salty mist, the contempt in your eyes as you looked at your family and friends. The love you expressed through your hands and body when you hugged or kissed him.

He thought you deserved to hear more than anyone, which is why after two months of communicating and deliberation with Norm and Max, they finally made the first set of hearing implants for Na'vi. A beautiful aqua to match your skin tone, and water proof so you could hear underwater as well.

As Neteyam watched from the shoreline as you raced your sister on Ilus, he couldn't help but feel nervous. He's practiced so hard with you and the others with sign language and yet he still continued to mess up sometimes. You never got angry or upset, just flashed your beautiful smile and repeated what he was trying to sign so he could practice again.

He'd especially been practicing for something special to you when the time came right, of course getting past Tonowari and Ronal wouldn't be easy. Taking one last glance at your figure, he turned and headed for the Marui pod that he knew your family resided in.

~.~

Ronal hissed and threw a shell at Neteyam which he ducked out of the way of, "You dare ask me such a question! That demon device will ruin her!" Tonowari just shook his head at his mate, she was nearing the end of her pregnancy and was very cranky.

"It'll help her hear! She can finally here all of you and everything around her!" Neteyam raised his hands in the air, trying to calm the angry pregnant woman. "Ronal, maybe she should give it a chance," Tonowari reasoned, Ronal growling lowly.

"You want to change her? You asked us mere days ago to mate and now you want this!? I pray to Great Mother to have the strength to not bury you alive! Skxawng!"

"No I don't want to change her! I want her to experience things that I know she longs for," Tonowari placed his hand on Ronal's shoulders giving her a look to calm down. Ronal did so, but not happily.

Both turned towards the young man, which he took as a continuation, "I promise, I love everything about her. The way she looks at the horizon with longing, wanting to go there and explore. The way (Y/n) wants to join in on everything everyone is doing but knows she can't hear everything, you may not have seen it, but I can. I hate that she cannot experience the wonderful sounds of the world, but if I could help her make one thing...The thing I know she may long for the most happen, I would crawl through viper thorns to do so, so please, let me try this," he begged at this point, taking a knee before the leaders of the clan.

Glancing at eachother, Tonowari spoke for both, "Very well, if she wants to try it, you have our blessing," Neteyam grinned, thanking them as he ran out the Marui pod to find you.

"You know he would never hurt her, Ronal?" Tonowari smiled at his mate gently, who rolled her eyes in annoyance, "Maybe Eywa will give me strength to not bury you, Tonowari,"

~.~

You huffed air laughing as Neteyam grabbed your hand, dragging you through the trees that surrounded the island.

Tapping his hand, he turned to you so he could watch, 'Where are we going?'

'Somewhere private' he replied, your smile wide as you let him carry on guiding you.

Coming to a beach front, your eyes saw a wonderful sight of a hand weaved blanket on the beach with some delicious fruit you adored. The sun was almost the horizon, the beauitful shades of orange and pink beginning to shine on the clouds and sky.

He led you down and helped sit you on the blanket, his eyes holding nothing but love for you. You returned the gaze, hand caressing his face as he lightly pecked your lips.

"I have something, for you," he gestured, you nodding, eyes staring at his figure so you wouldn't miss anything.

Pulling out a blue box from his hip bag, he opened it to reveal two small, weird looking devices. Your eyebrow furrowed, glancing up at him confused. Was this a forest thing? Why did it look like something sky demons made?

"Oh right, um," Neteyam mumbled to himself, licking his lips as he put the box down, hands moving slowly as he thought each sign out.

"These," points to the box, "help you, hear," he tried to keep it short and to the point. Yet this only confused you more.

"I cannot hear, how can these help me?" Your hands were moving quickly, 'I don't understand-' he took your hands into his, holding them close to his chest to try and regain your attention, your eyes narrowed with unease and confusion.

He let go slowly, his hands moving the same time as his lips, "These go in here," he gestured to your ear, "and when turned on, they let you hear," you slowly nodded, Neteyam picking up the box and holding it to you, the sunset reflecting of your eyes as you nodded to him.

Closing your eyes as you felt his hand gently place the small things in your ears, the other holding your cheek in reassurance.

He pressed on something, a small high pitched noise filled your ears which made your eyes shoot open. You looked around frantically, hands covering your ears and the devices from the shock of hearing something for the first time.

Neteyam placed his hands over yours, holding your head as your eyes turned to him with fear. He breathed in and out, eyes trained on yours as you began to copy him, slowly relaxing.

You both moved your hands, your ears twitching as you heard something else. A soft roaring and crashing sound that made you look to the water, eyes filling with tears as you signed, "waves?" His face lighting up and nodding, taking your hand as he helped you up.

You stared out into the giant mass of blue, the sound of the waves flooding every sense you had. The distant calls of birds and animals soon followed, all overwhelming but yet so majestic in your eyes.

Your hands came to cover your mouth and muffle your sobs as you began to cry. The world sounded different than you had ever thought, it sounded better.

Neteyam wrapped his arm around your shoulder to comfort you. Your shoulders slowly stopped shaking as you gazed up at him.

"(Y/n)" he whispered, your face morphing into one of disbelief. He sounded as gorgeous as he looked.

You tapped his lips, a grin on your face as you turned your body to face him completely now. "You can hear me?" He asked, your smile wide as you nodded. "There's something I want to ask you. I thought I would ask like this, but I want to ask you in your own way," he gently caressed your face as you nodded, feeling a small rush of adrenaline from all the excitement.

You never thought he would go through all this trouble for you, this just showing you how much he truly cared.

He held your hands, giving them a squeeze before taking a step back to see your whole body. Also incase he had to run from rejection.

'You are so beautiful,' he started, your eyes narrowing in curiosity, wondering where he was going with this. You were very flattered though as you shyly shuffled.

'When I look at you, I think of home' he started fumbling a little bit, but you smiled at him which gave him strength to keep going. "I want to spend the rest of my life, with you,'

Your mind suddenly went blank, realizing what he was asking, 'Will you be my mate?' He finished with a shy smile, but you were only staring at him with a blank expression.

A cold shiver ran down his spine, you weren't saying or doing anything. Just starting at him.

"(Y/n)?" He asked softly, taking a step forward to grab your fingers, but you jerked back suddenly, your ears flattened as you turned and ran.

Neteyam could only stare heartbroken as you disappeared from view, the sun now down below the horizon.

~.~

'You did what!?' Tsireya signed, but you didn't see it as you were hiding your face in your hands in shame. Tsireya tapped you, your glossy eyes looking at her disbelief ones. 'You left him without an answer? I thought you loved Neteyam!' 'I do!' You began, teeth gritting together, 'why would he want me?' You sobbed, tears begging to flow passed your waterline, Tsireya looking at you in empathy. 'I cannot hear, I cannot talk well, I only babble like newborn baby,' you began to hiccup, 'He gave me these to help me hear, I wish to talk to him like he can with me, but my voice is ugly,'

Tsireya grabbed your shoulders, her look fierce as she shook her head, "No! Your voice is beautiful and unique!" She knew you didn't take the sky peoples devices out, so you could hear her.

And hear her you would.

"Neteyam begged mother and father for weeks before they agreed! He planned these hearing devices for months. He loves you, all of you!" Tsireya exclaimed, your whimpers making her hug you close. "If you wish to speak to him, we will help you," Tsireya declared, her heart breaking for her older sister.

(Y/n) spent her whole life looking after others, even with the loss of hearing. Tsireya felt a few tears slip through her own eyelashes as she's never seen you this upset before. You were always smiling for everyone, the first one out and the last one in. You never told anyone how you truly felt.

Tsireya promised to Eywa she would make it right.

~.~

You avoided Neteyam for days, diving out of sight when you caught a glimpse of the oldest Sully sibling, your heart filled with guilt. You never meant to hurt him, but how could you face him before you were ready.

The Sully siblings, aside from Neteyam, knew what you were doing and tried their best to help both sides, but they still felt bad for their oldest brother.

Your own siblings helped you morning and night in getting your words more precise and clean, the pronunciation being the hardest as you technically never had to speak Na'vi or English before.

You sat in that beach shore cove Neteyam had brought you to only days prior, your eyes clenched in frustration as you tried again.

"oil ngatee kameee," the simple phrase of 'I see you' fell from your lips as you groaned in your throat. You were never going to get it, they sounded slurred together and it was hard to understand.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and tried again, "oel ngati kameie," this time it sounded better, but you really had to think and enunciate with your lips.

Head falling into your hands, you felt a few tears slip out. Why did Neteyam choose you? There are better girls, ones who weren't at a disadvantage like you were.

Standing up, you turned to see Neteyam right behind you.

You gasped inwardly, taking a few steps back. Neteyam only stared at you with a inquiring look, but you could see the hurt in his eyes too.

'I'm sorry,' you signed, looking down so your bohemian knotless braids covered your face. You couldn't face him. 'I'll leave now,' you made to scurry past him when he grabbed your hand, your breath hitching as you were frozen in place.

He carefully walked around to face you, his face looking solem at your stiff body. 'Why?' He questioned, you feeling tears staring to build up. 'Many girls better than me,' you answered, his shocked expression taking you off guard. 'No one is better than you, I only want you, now and forever,' he signed passionately, your tears streaming down your face as you shook your head.

'I sound like a baby, I cannot talk like an adult,' you desperately tried to get him to see, but he only shook his head at you.

'I have never heard your voice, but your quiet huff bring music to my ears. My heart yearns for yours so that they may beat together. Make their own sound, together. As one," Neteyam emphasized, never seeing you look so down heartened as you did right now.

Lo'ak had finally cracked and told him that you'd been practicing your voice and speech so that you could be better. Better for him. When all Neteyam wanted was you. He was so lost these last few days, never seeing you and his thoughts running wild on why you rejected him.

'Please, I stand here with my heart for you. I only want you, (Y/n)," he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours, his eyes closed in pain as he wished you could see yourself how he does.

"Neteyam," you whispered, his eyes shooting open as your lips twitched. "Yes," you said answered, his face changing rapidly between emotions.

"Y-yes? Yes you'll be my mate?!" He exclaimed, his eyes turning glossy as he realized you'd just spoken to him. You laughed and nodded, Neteyam cackling as he picked you up and spun you around.

"She said yes!" He yelled out, both of you now laughing like idiots as he fell back, both of you landing in the sand.

You rolled over, lips connecting with his with urgency as he gave it right back. Both of you in each other's embrace, fitting perfect together like a puzzle.

'I love you,(Y/n)' he signed, eyes filled with adoration cause you to smile back shyly, "I love you, Neteyam,"

Even though Neteyam had given you the blessing of being able to hear, the most beauitful sound you'd ever heard was his voice.

You couldn't wait to listen to it for the rest of your life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@eywas-heir @jimfiqs @minkyungseokie

@bealone-prm @thecrazyswamp

@he110hon @urforevermore

@iikatsukii

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar: the way of water #neteyam #neteyam x metkayina!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyamxdeafreader #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x oc #atwow fanfiction #atwow imagines #atwow angst #atwow x reader #atwow neteyam

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artists-ally · 4 months

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{She Gets The Flowers, Right?} Reader x Lucien {Pt.2}

Welp. Here we are. Didn't know this was gonna happen. I had ZERO INTENTIONS of writing a part two but I basically got cyber bullied into making another so here ya go fuckers. Someone literally threatened to stop taking their meds so to whoever that was I hope you get to keep your kidney! Enjoy! This part is inspired by this song.

Word Count: 6,111

Warnings: ANGST (yall thought you’re gonna get a happy ending? HAHAHAH) Some pretty negative self talk.

Tagging: @bubybubsters @cyrygher @thelov3lybookworm @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @anuttellaa @lookingforamissingpage @thehighlordishere @crazylokonugget

Summary: In the days and weeks that follow your downfall with Lucien, he has no fucking clue how to go about life without you. He can’t cope. And he desperately wants to fix everything with you.

~~~~~~~

LUCIEN’S POV

I have made the biggest mistake of my entire life. I thought that would be reserved for not being able to protect Jesminda. No. This… this is… I don’t even know.

I’m just standing on the sidewalk, staring at our- her home. At the rustic, auburn door we painted. At its brass knob, at the rusty, creaking hinges that would ring through the house when someone came in. At the little potted plant in the corner, the vines spilling out of it.

I’ll never be back here again.

I’ll never get to hear her laugh.

I’ll never get to taste her new recipes.

I will never be able to take all that I said back. That is the most haunting feeling of it all.

I’m an awful person. After all she’s done for me. After saving my life– on more than one occasion– I went and did nothing in return. I gave her nothing for her endless kindness. All I was capable of doing was destroying the one person in my life who has given me everything I’ve ever wanted.

Unconditionally. She always loved me unconditionally. How could I have been so blind and naive to it? How did I never see it?

Gods every single time she made me something to eat, a recipe to try… she was basically shoving the bond in my face, hoping I would see it. And I never ever considered it. I was so lost in Elain. Lost in the fact that I finally had feelings for someone after Jesminda… Not once did I think it could be Yn.

I don’t deserve her. I never did. I was a bitter, rotten shell of a man when she met me. She dragged me by the arms to her house to fix me. She thought I was worthy of being saved when my own father thought the opposite. Yn put me back together. She made me who I am. And this is the thanks I give her?

Elain has said all of ten sentences to me in the past year. I haven’t been able to do anything but replay every single one of them in my head. A thousand times– a hundred thousand times. I wish I couldn’t. It’s exhausting. Constantly thinking of her. But I don’t have a choice.

I like the feeling of being able to feel again. But at the cost of Yn? At the complete sacrifice of all I’ve known for the past century? My rock? My best friend? Nothing is worth more.

But it is far too late to do anything about it. I’ve lost her.

I want her back.

Yn did things to me that no one else could. She just seemed to know when things were wrong. She always knows what to say, when to say it, and how. She never tells you what you want to hear, it’s always what you need. She is the most well rounded person I’ve ever met. She’s never afraid to feel her emotions.

I envy that skill.

I’ve always hid my feelings deep down. It took years to decipher them again. But it was Yn who made me do it. She always fought for me, fought me for me. Yn never let me do it alone. Refused to, actually. Was there every step of the way and never told me I was taking too long or wasting her time.

I get it now.

And there is nothing I can do. I have nowhere to go. Tears scald my eyes as I trudge down the little path that we beat into the grass. Day in and day out.

I remember when we picked this place. We had only been in Velaris for a week or two when we stumbled across it. It was run down and needed a new roof. As a thank you for keeping Feyre safe on our journey across the Courts, Rhysand gifted it to us. Complete with a new roof, new furniture, a new kitchen for Yn to cook in. And he let us be. Well, let her be. I still had my debts to pay off.

And then I met Elain and… fuck. Everything went to shit after that.

There is no way of processing all of these emotions at once. These very real feelings I still have for Elain. And these all-of-a-sudden very fucking real feelings I now have for Yn. It’s how I imagine imploding feels like. My body wants to cave into itself and never fold back out.

I pray to the Cauldron that I do self destruct. This feeling, a mixture between irrational rage and betrayal… I don’t wish it upon another living soul. And Gods know I’d sell mine to change everything I’ve just done.

I don’t even know how I ended up at the Town House. All of a sudden I was just standing in front of it. I normally resent coming here, but for some reason I was relieved to see the bricks and busted up cobblestone sidewalk. Maybe no one would be here; Rhys was more often than not at the River House with Feyre and Nyx, indulging in the life of parenthood. Nesta and Cassian were probably somewhere in the House of Wind with Elain, Mor at Rita’s, Amren with Varian, and who the hell knows where Azriel is.

I can’t wait to be alone to scream.

Fuck, the door is locked. Of course the door is locked, no one’s here. It takes every bit of control in my shiver-ridden body to not rip the door off its hinges. And it takes even more control to not collapse against the door and break down for the whole street to see.

The lock clicks and the door opens.

I force myself to appear relaxed. I wipe my tears and brush away my loose strands of hair. No use. My face is probably as red as the burning self hatred inside my twisted heart.

“What are you doing here Lucien?” The High Lord asks.

I gulp. Of all the people, it had to be him? At least it’s not Azriel, I think. I might hate him more than I hate myself. For actually getting Elain’s attention. Yn was right, I am selfish. “Sorry, didn’t realize you were in.”

“Did you leave something?” I don’t move, and I stay deathly still. Rhys looks me head to toe, and I know he can scent me from a mile away. “Lucien, what the fuck did you do?”

“Stay the fuck out of my head,” I snarled, pointing a finger at his chest.

“I don’t need to read your thoughts. Your face says it all.” Rhys crosses his arms over his chest, “Look, we’ve all told you that Elain is hard to reach these days. She isn’t worth-”

“This… this doesn’t have anything to do with Elain.” I lied. He seemed to know it. “Can I just come in?”

Rhys just steps aside, shutting the door behind me. “I don’t really have time for-”

“I fucked up.”

“Clearly.”

“Rhysand,” I said. So full of disgust. He looked at me with a blank expression. One I have seen too many times to not know what comes next. I eased up my tone. “Is anyone else here?”

“No,” he answers, moving around me and heading into a study on the other side of the living room.

I can’t help but think of how we all gathered in that living room a few months ago for Solstice. Exchanging gifts and drinks and smiles and stories. I vividly remember making Yn laugh so hard she tipped her head over the arm of the couch, sending her wine tumbling to the ground. The stain still on the small rug almost makes me smile, and it almost makes me burst into tears.

“I ruined everything in my life. Yn’s gone.” I could feel the air freeze around me. “Not like, gone gone but she’s… I don’t think I’ll ever be seeing her again.”

“So this is because of Elain.”

I bit my tongue so hard I thought I’d bite it off completely. But I sighed, the tears coming with it. “Yes.” A really long pause. “She told me I’m-”

“You’re Yn’s mate?”

“Yes.”

“And you never knew because you were so focused on Elain.” “Is that supposed to be a question?”

“It was, but you just gave me your answer,” Rhys sat. “Do you want me to keep guessing or are you going to tell me what happened?”

I took the biggest breath I could, steading my words. “I missed the opening of her restaurant because I was with Elain.”

Rhysand looked at me with such revulsion that I thought he might put me through a wall. Those wicked, violet eyes could’ve boiled my bones. For a split second I wished he would. I could tell he wanted to say something, but I don’t think there were enough words in the world for how much of an awful person I was.

“There are things in this world that we sacrifice in this world Lucien,” Rhys said.

Hesitantly, “I know.”

“And Yn gave up the biggest of them all. She shut her mouth to let you be happy. She did what I did for Feyre until she realized what situation she was in. You are one spineless bastard for doing anything but giving your life to her.”

“I know.”

“Have you any idea what you’ve done to her? She gave you everything you could ever ask for. From the moment the two of you stepped in my Court I could tell she only had eyes for you. When you are in the room you’re the only one she looks at. How could you have not known?”

“I don’t know…” “Yes, you do.”

I plunged my nails into my palms. “For Cauldron's sake Rhysand of course I know.”

“Then why did you continue to ignore Yn?”

“Because I couldn’t ever let myself think a female like her would like such a broken, dismantled and lost soul like mine.” Rhysand stared at me. “When Yn pulled me from the border to fix me, she spent every waking moment of her life stringing my mind and body into one piece. If I let myself think for even a second that it was anything other than kindness, I would’ve gone mad.”

“Would it have been so terrible to love her?”

“I’ve always loved her. I just never thought I’d be allowed to love her the way she loves me.”

“Because of Elain?” “Because of Elain.”

Rhys blew out a breath, sitting down on the corner of his desk. “So, let me see if I have all of this correct. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for Yn because you thought you were unworthy. Instead, you sabotaged both of your happiness for Elain simply because she was your mate and you just wanted to feel something?”

“It sounds so much more fucked when you say it outloud.” I rubbed my hands over my tired, burning eyes. “And it’s not just because she’s my mate, Rhys. I genuinely like her. She’s… she has the potential to be so sweet. I’ve seen glimpses of it, heard stories from Feyre and Nesta. Why won’t she let me see?”

“You are still clueless, aren’t you?” He scoffed. “Here you are, a ruined man because you drove away your best friend, and you’re still worried about someone who doesn’t want you. Pathetic. You are a selfish son of a bitch.”

“I can’t just ignore Elain. It’s impossible to think of anything else but her and how I can help her.” “Lucien,” Rhysand stopped me from going on another tangent. “Maybe start considering that she doesn’t want you.”

“What?” My lip trembled. “N-No she… we have a bond. It’s there she just needs time. I’m her mate, she’ll want one eventually.”

“Just like Yn will want one?” His eyes were as viscous as the tone of his voice. “You are doing the same thing to Yn that Elain is doing to you. You understand how that feels. Now imagine that Elain was the one you found on the border of the Spring Court and you spent decades nursing her mind back into her body. Recreating her personality and passions. Wouldn’t you be a little fucking irate if she started showing interest in another male after all you did for her?”

I froze.

This was so much deeper than I ever thought it could be. But I could see it. Bringing Elain back to herself all for it to be thrown away by another male. Azriel filled that roll, and I was filled with raw fury at the mere thought of that happening.

“So now you see what Yn has been dealing with. And Gods, Lucien, she has been dealing with it for a long while. What you did was wrong, unjust, and unfair. And for you to be with Elain on the day of her grand opening, where all of us just were, is… that may be unforgivable.”

“I don’t deserve to be forgiven for what I’ve just done…”

My shoulder hunch, and my chest cracks. I am a bleeding mess of tears. I can barely stand as I openly sob in front of Rhys. I’m surprised when he shoves a chair under me instead of letting me crumble to the floor in my self induced agony. And I’m even more surprised when he puts a hand on my shoulder.

It’s Yn. It’s always been Yn. There is nothing in this world that can compare to her or her kindness or her love. What a fool I have been to not take the hand that was given me. What a selfish, self-serving waste of a man I have been to her.

I can’t take it. I have to have her back. I have to fix this. I have to. I have to. I have to.

I stand. “Woah, what are you doing?” Rhys tried to get me to sit down.

“Yn- I have to fix this with Yn-”

“No,” Rhys slams me back into the chair. “You are not going to march back over there.”

“I have to,” I yelled. “I can’t let her kick me out without her knowing that I’m sorry. That I’ll do anything she wants me to to win her back. I can’t be without her, I need her.”

“She kicked you out?” I nodded. “You’re not going anywhere. She clearly doesn’t want to see you. Nothing you could say to her would suffice. Especially right now. She needs time. She needs space. If I find out that you go back to your- her house, I’ll drop you back in the Spring Court, do you understand me?”

I nod viciously.

“Good,” Rhys let out a heavy breath. “You can have your old room back. Nothing in it but a few storage boxes. Everything is otherwise untouched.” Great. My old memories to haunt me. Just what I needed. For a very short week we stayed here. Yn’s room was right across from mine. Just another reminder of everything that’s happened between now and then.

I slump in the seat, letting tears trickle down my nose and onto my knee. Watching them evaporate and dry, just for the material to be soaked again. “I’m so sorry Yn…”

I heard Rhys whirl around, and I could feel the tension across the room. He probably thinks I’m mad. I might as well be.

More footsteps sounded than people in the house and Cassian walked in the room. Luckily I was facing away from him. “Don’t tell me he’s a part of our special detachment.”

I rolled my eyes. Cassian, ever the charming.

“No, he’s… well, he’ll be living here for a little while.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“It’s none of your business,” I snapped. No one spoke. I sighed for what felt like the billionth time today. “Sorry.”

“What happened?” Cassian asked, coming to stand next to me, his body reeking of sweat and dirt. All I had to do was lift my head and I think he understood enough. That or Rhys told him. “I won’t say anything cause I’ll probably just make it worse.”

“Probably,” Rhys nodded.

“Probably.” My eyes burned, so did my skin. “I have to get all my stuff out tomorrow. She told me to.”

“Then you’ll do it tomorrow. Not tonight, tomorrow. Respect her wishes, or I will make you.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“We’ll be back,” Rhys grabbed a few things from his desk then ushered Cassian out the door. “Don’t do anything. Just stay here.”

It could’ve been twenty minutes or two hours until I finally moved upstairs. Forcing myself to not go to Yn’s room was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. All the conversations we had, all the plans we made. It’s where she first got the idea of her restaurant. She literally had a dream and made it a reality.

I’d be lying if I said I told her how proud of her I was. I never have. Why have I never told her that? Could I really have been that caught up in Elain that… Wow. It’s funny how you only realize after the fact.

My bed caught me as I collapsed into it, tucking my knees into my chest. I am such a loser. Pathetic. Just like Rhys said. My heart would burn up and die at this rate. It was a mystery how I hadn’t burst into flames yet.

There are so many things I need, and Yn takes the top of the list. She had always been everything I needed. When I needed comfort, I went to Yn. When I needed solutions, I went to Yn. When I needed answers, to be heard, to be validated, to be loved… who was I supposed to go to now? Definitely not Rhys or Cassian, and certainly not Elain.

Maybe for the first time ever I wanted nothing to do with Elain. I didn’t want to see her. I couldn’t care less if I ever saw her again. Her presence in my life has done nothing but tear my other relationships apart.

She’s the reason I’m here in this mess.

_____

At some ridiculous hour of the night– morning? Is that the sun?– I heard the door open. I shot up, then deflated down. I wasn’t in my bed. I wasn’t at home. And that wasn’t Yn walking in the door.

Every thought and emotion rushed back into my head, creating an endless tangle of thoughts. The next more horrid and self destructive than the last. I deserve it.

Missing the opening of her restaurant, Latibule–an ancient word for refuge or safe place–was the biggest mistake of my life. I will never be able to make that up to her. I turned her biggest accomplishment into a slimy, diseased memory. I ruined what was supposed to be the best night of her life.

I’ve let her down in a way I’ll never be able to repair.

Even Rhys and Feyre were there last night. And I wasn’t. Nesta and Cassian. Azriel, Amren, Mor… they were all there, supporting her. And I was with Elain. She probably wanted to go, and I was there, holding her back.

I need to get out of this room before it crushes me whole.

I could see the sun just barely peeking over the Sidra when I stepped outside, cloak wrapped tightly around my head and shoulders to keep out the early morning bite.

There wasn’t a soul around, Velaris still blissfully asleep besides this one small corner store that sold hot tea and pastries all hours of the day. Rustling in my pocket was just enough for a peach turnover and a cherry blossom tea.

The bell chimed above the door as I walked in, knocking my boots against the step to not track dirt in.

“Early start to the day, Luc?” Ms. Immy smiled from behind the counter, polishing a few mugs before moving to come to the display case, packed full of delicious goods, savory and sweet.

“Unfortunately,” I sighed. “Couldn’t really sleep.”

“Well I am glad to have you in, the usual?”

“That would be great, Ms. Immy.”

The lovely owner of the bakery was Ms. Immy. One of the older members of the Night Court but as wise as they come. She’s the kindest, most gentle fae to roam Prythian. With her soft, sage green eyes and long, slender ears adorn with piercings, Ms. Immy was by far one of my favorites here.

The kettles whistled behind her as she dipped a tea bag into my mug. Ms. Immy always had designated mugs for her regular customers. Mine was made of green clay, mostly green with a white oval on the front with two lines of flowers. In the center of it all was a simple fox. She once told me that I had the spirit of one of those extinct creatures in the human lands. That I was reserved, and at my core I fiercely protected those I cared about.

If only I had been able to protect Yn from myself.

Her mug had been one crafted of the moon and the stars. With all the constellations of the Gods being lifted into the air by the magic of the Cauldron. Ms. Immy had told her it was a visual representation that Yn was a great reminder of the past to the current world. That she was lost art that was to never be forgotten.

There is nothing I want more than for the rest of the world to be loved as fiercely as she had loved me.

“Here is your tea, Lucien,” Ms. Immy set the mug on the counter, pushing up the glass case and plucking a peach turnover out. “And for you as well.”

“Thank you,” I tried to smile. I stared at the blackberry tart next to the peach turnovers. Yn’s go-to. It made my blood run cold.

I put the coins in her hand before I could begin to cry again and scooted out the door as another person was coming in.

The table and chairs outside were hard and covered in a light mist. It creaked as I sat, just as it always did. I should've sat anywhere else, but my body naturally drifted to this exact spot. It had a good view of the street so Yn and I could watch the people walk by. Pretending we know every bit of their personal lives and beyond. Make up extravagant stories and adventures for the most boring looking individuals in hopes they may one day get to go on them in another lifetime.

Gods she is everywhere. She’s in the tavern across the street, in the stones on the ground that we used to kick on our walks. She’s in the sunrise, the same color of her heated cheeks filling the sky. There is no escaping what used to be my whole world.

Silently, I let a few tears roll down my cheeks. I ought to be ashamed of showing so much emotion in public, but for some reason I can’t find the will to care.

The door chimes and footsteps go back down the street. The door chimes again.

“My fox boy,” Ms. Immy says so softly I almost don’t hear it over the roar in my ears. “What troubles you so badly you can’t sleep?”

I bite my lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises. “I don’t know how to fix something that I’ve done.”

“You missed the opening of Yn’s restaurant.” She says.

I nod. “How did you know?”

“Because I did not see you there, fox boy.”

“She kicked me out, Ms. Immy. I deserved it, every bit of what she said was true.”

“I think that is true, Lucien,” Ms. Immy came and sat in Yn’s spot, folding her hands in her lap, letting out a breath of air as she extended her old, feeble legs. “Nobody is happy with what you’ve done but-”

“I didn’t mean to blow her off Ms. Immy I just-”

“But,” she cuts me off with a pointed look. “I think you are a very lost soul. For the first time in your life you are truly free. No High Lord to obey, no throne to fight for, no war to fight in. Just a High Lord to serve and to respect. You have everything you could ask for, and yet you have no idea what to do with it.”

She’s right. She’s always right. “I want to fix it. I have to.”

“I am afraid that may not be what the spirit of the Gods wants.” Why is it that I get called fox boy and Yn get’s called something as majestic as ‘spirit of the Gods’? “If those are her wishes, you are going to respect them. Eternally.”

“I will go mad. If I don’t have her by my side for the rest of my life I will go mad.” “So you share a bond with her as well?” She asks.

“I don’t know. All I do is that I haven’t stopped crying and shaking at every reminder of her. No matter how small. Life without her in it is meaningless to me. Afterall, she is the one who gave it back to me.”

“And a good job she did, fox boy,” Ms. Immy smiled softly. “You are a good male who has been blinded by instincts. While it is not your fault, it has become your problem. And by the looks of you, it seems like it has become quite the ordeal.”

My shoulders dropped as I put my head in my palms. I breathed. “I don’t know how to function without her. She has been there, every day of my life, for nearly seventy years, Ms. Immy. We did everything together. Our mornings were spent as one, our evenings, all the restaurant planning and-and brunches here with you-”

“Breathe, Lucien-”

“How am I supposed to just pack up my things today and move on? H-How am I supposed to just carry on as if she never existed in my life? The thought of not being able to see her every day makes me want to peel the skin off my flesh.”

Ms. Immy looked at me, the hard lines in her face becoming more defined. “Listen to me very carefully, fox boy. What’s done is done. You cannot go back in time and take back what you said. The worst of it is over. Now comes the long process of trying to piece your life together. Whether Yn will be able to help you will depend on what you decide to do in the next several days. If you follow her wishes of moving out and staying clear, there could be a chance in the future. But, if you neglect her wishes, as you had neglected her to lead you to this moment, then there is no hope.”

If you neglect her wishes, as you had neglected her to lead you to this moment, then there is no hope… Words have never stunned me quite as forcefully as Ms. Immy’s had. The true gravity of the situation has set in, if it hadn’t already. One wrong move and she’s gone. For good.

“There is a reason why you are my little fox, Lucien,” Ms. Immy stood, taking my cold mug that I hadn’t touched. “They were intelligent, cunning creatures, just as you are. Do not let your instincts guide you to a decision. Let your heart and the facts do it for you.”

“The facts? What facts?” “The fact that you have screwed up. The fact that Yn has made a decision for you since you were incapable of doing it yourself. It is truth, and it hurts, but it has to for change to come.” And then she went inside.

I sat with those final words for far longer than I anticipated. It was long enough for people to begin leaving their homes, the streets beginning to fill with people.

Yn would be out of the house by now, opening for the restaurant’s breakfast hours. I could go now. Or I could stay here and try to blend into the hundreds of faces passing in and out. But I need to move. Yn might come in for her apple cider and blackberry tart. If I saw her right now I’d surely do something stupid.

As I walked, the clouds blocked out the sun and it began to drizzle. The drizzle turned into a steady rain, then a downpour. I was soaked through my cloak and boots, water seeping in and out with every step. My hair stuck to the back of my neck.

I kept my head down as I walked, afraid of being recognized. If Ms. Immy had been there to not see me at Latibule, who else?

The cobblestone ended and mud replaced it. I knew where I was.

The old, beaten path dared me to go up to the house. It beckoned me. From here, at the bottom of the hill, I could see several boxes stacked up outside the door, the disposable brown material soaked through with the rain. She was serious…

Some part of me– the extremely selfish part– has been secretly hoping that she’ll tell me she made a mistake and that she wants me back. But I think those boxes are a not-so-gentle-shove in the opposite direction.

The key in my pocket might as well have been the key to another universe, because when I opened the door it was like I entered a whole new world. One without me in it. All the pictures of us, all the paintings Feyre had done for us, were off the walls. All the plants and trinkets and decorations I gifter here were piled in the corner for me to collect.

How could so much damage have been done in just a few hours?

One by one, I packed away the things into the soggy boxes. I moved from room to room. Silently. Hoping this was all a dream only to be launched back into reality with every memory that surfaced. Every possession I had given her in the last seventy years was piled here for me to take.

She wanted no trace of me here. And I didn’t blame her. I don’t want any trace of me either.

I must’ve stayed there for hours– crying, packing, reliving moments I had long forgotten only to cry again– because it was close to sunset now. Every trace of me was packed up; all those pictures, all those trinkets, all my clothes and bathing goods… everything I owned fit into these boxes. Everything except for the one person I didn’t want to do life without.

But Rhys and Ms. Immy are right. If I try to do something now, to get her back, I’ll ruin any real chance. That is something I can’t afford.

To an immortal, a few months or years equivalates to just a few minutes of human life. But if it takes years for Yn to accept me back in her life…

Besides the clothes and membranes from the Autumn and Spring Courts, I discard everything. I will tear myself to bits if I don’t get rid of them. Will I regret it down the road, probably, but I can’t have them.

The two boxes and bag of clothes I carry from her house to the Town House are water logged and falling apart. It’s a miracle they didn’t unravel completely. Just add more humiliation to a High Lords son dragging boxes and bags through the street. I deserve all the stare’s and hushed questions.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sights of Rhys and Cassian helping me carry them up the stairs.

“I don’t know how you’re feeling but-”

“Don’t,” I pleaded. “Just… just don’t. I don’t want your pity, Cassian.”

“I am probably the last person besides Azriel who would pity you, Lucien. And I had no intentions to belittle you for what you did. I was going to offer you a spot in my training ring if you ever needed an escape.”

His kindness shocked me. I can’t say I know the Illyrian well, but this gesture spoke a lot to his character. So I sighed, of course I thought he was going to be hostile to me. Everyone should. “Oh.”

“Training starts at eight and goes to one. Come well fed and in something warm. The top of the House is colder.”

Neither of us said anything else as he left me to unpack.

______

Some weeks later I had taken Cassian up on his offer. Him and Nesta were great at kicking my ass and telling me about it. This side of both of them was far different than the ones I had seen. Here, Cassian wasn’t a prick. He was an instructor, teaching me how to defend my life and my honor. Nesta was… less Nesat. She channeled this otherworldly presence and became one with her weapon.

Me on the other hand… it was far more difficult. Fighting and battle wasn’t rooted in my blood like it was for Cassian. It was much harder for me to get it but I sorta did. Sorta.

“Just keep working on that footwork and it’ll help with the sword placement. If you’re solid by the end of the week, I’ll put a real one in your hands,” Cassian grinned, chucking me my practice weapon.

It brought a quick smile to my face. As fast as it was there it was gone. Like most these days.

When I got home, I rifled through my closet. Brown and green and cream colored shirts after another. Where was that Night Court Blue one I had gotten a long time ago? I could’ve sworn I plucked it from the pile on the floor- no, that was a towel. I was planning on wearing it to dinner at the River House tonight for Mor’s birthday.

Oh, Yn has it. I had given it to her to wear for a meeting with a realtor when looking at properties. She had tucked it into this black leather skirt.

I’ll swing by on my way to the party to get it. Mor always liked the color on me, and said it brought out the fire in my hair. She’ll appreciate the gesture.

After a shower and some other outfit choices, I can’t help but want that blue shirt. I’ll just go get it.

Through the falling leaves, I make my way down the street, across it, and to the meadow. There are six or seven houses with smoke billowing out of their chimneys. But there, right in the distance, is her house. She’ll be at her restaurant tonight so I know I’m safe.

I scurry up the path, still worried about being seen for some reason.

Has it been easy these past couple weeks? No. I haven’t been able to think of anything but her. Or dream of anything but her. It’s awful. Not her, but the fact that somehow, someway, she is still everywhere I am. In those memories in the darkest part of the night. The darkest part of my mind reserved for her and her only.

I hadn’t dared to go visit Elain. I don’t feel the need anymore. Which is relieving and frightening at the same time. It’s like there is a gaping hole in my heart that nothing will fill. Not even training. It proves a good secondary distraction, but nothing can suppress the primary guilt I feel every waking–

What is that smell? I stopped just shy of the door, key in hand. It wants to smell like the rest of the smoke and ash wafting into the air from the nearby cabins, but it’s… more alive? What if she left the stove on? Or a candle? There are hints of woods mixed into it, but not the type of woodsy scent from pine or maple logs.

I jam the key in as fast as I can to unlock the door. What if she left the fireplace burning or had an electrical fire or-

In the span of five seconds, three things happened. One: Yn was here. And she looked so beautiful. Her eyes are bright and full of color. Two: she was being held by someone, his hands on her cheeks. Three: boiling rage shot through when I realized who it was.

Eris.

~~~~~~~~~

Part 3

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #lucien x you #lucien x reader #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #acotar #acotar fandom

193 notes · View notes

rosie-writings · 3 months

Text

Driven by Holy Force

Summary: You had been friends with Sam and Colby since middle school, and it took the success of both of your channels for you to realize that only Sam could satisfy you.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Drunken sex (consentual), Sam x Reader smut, Lovelorn Bitter-sweetness all around— I’m not responsible for the fuzzy feels

Words: 5.6k

No Y/N Used

Title is from ‘Mine’ by Sleep Token

The last time I stepped foot in this club, I was a shaking horrifyingly new green bean to the party space full of established content creators.

Now I couldn’t keep up with the amount of greetings and glances that shot my way. I kept a smile pulled at my painted lips even though I shook to my core. My heart raced under my ribs, and I desperately needed a drink in my hands to hide behind. I needed an anchor, I needed a place to stay comfortable and out of the spotlight tonight, I needed someone—to find something—

Maybe it had been months now—years—since I gained my own separate platform and business apart from my best friends, but I still felt dependent on them. I remember Sam and Colby posting these dumb videos back in high school and I roasted their asses for being dipshits on the internet.

I guess it paid off considering the room they gave to me in their new house. My room in their new house was bigger than my downtown apartment.

When they told me they were moving to LA, I remember standing shell shocked with questions. For how long? Why? Will I see them again—And then they asked me to live with them.

How much audacity did two boys have in order to ask the younger girl who followed them around like a lost puppy more often than not to move across the country with them?

They didn’t ask without giving me the ultimatum that I had to focus on my own content and actually post a video more often than every six months. I agreed because who wouldn’t try it out at least once? I was only nineteen so if it didn’t work out, I wouldn’t have wasted precious time. This was the time to bulldoze my way through questionable opportunities. Technically we were all kids still; they were 21, nearly 22, and I was told that girls’ brains don’t turn on until they are 24 and boys’ brains don’t turn on period.

I just didn’t expect for my channel to blow up alongside them. If they hit a milestone, I hit it six months later.

Now I was 24. They were 27. And life was still on an incline.

Everyday I was stunned by the achievements I somehow made. Perhaps authenticity and the exploitment of embarrassing universal experiences were things people my age really did want. I grew up imagining living the perfect life alongside the perfectly polished A list celebrities. I was nowhere near that and somehow, I had it so much better.

The major issue that I collided head on going 120 miles per hour wasn’t a massive internet scandal like I expected, but it was the way my stomach flipped when Sam looked at me from across the room.

Call it an overworked brain, call it a lack of sleep, or call it a lovelorn heart that was too afraid of being thrown away; whatever it was, it was out for blood. It made home in the fascia of my body.

God, nothing came of us in our past lives. Not when we found each other between classes in middle school. Not when we skipped school and whispered in the dark alleys of abandoned buildings. Not even when we woke up under the same roof like we always wanted. It was now. Now after the success, after the hard work.

We were stable.

Suddenly I had time. Suddenly I had some leeway where if something blew up in flames, I would be alright.

Now I was feeling risky, and somehow my stomach caught onto it.

”Oh my god, finally.” I heard the voice pierce through the thoughts I couldn’t shake myself. I turned to a red drink pressed to my nose. I grabbed it before it spilled down my front. “She wins a Streamy and suddenly is fashionably late.” I burst out laughing and hid my blush with my hand.

”Tara, shut the hell up.” She grabbed my wrist and that was when I found my anchor.

She led me to the table our friends parked at, and I sucked down the drink by the time we greeted each other. Two shots down and we gossiped like it was the end of the world. It felt like it. The colors in the dark room illuminated their eyes and sparkles in their eye make up, and I wondered if every night would feel like this as long as they were around.

It took years, but here I was finally surrounded by girls who accepted me, who I didn’t need to pretend around.

The problem was, they saw right through me.

“Oh my god!” Vereena gasped and raised her hand towards me. I turned to her in expectation. “I forgot to say—I saw you and Sam out on what, like Tuesday night or something?” My face flared at the name and my heart skipped a beat because yeah, we did do something on Tuesday night. To be fair, Colby was stressed sick and lying in bed all night trying to schedule meetings. He told us to leave him the fuck alone because if we stayed in the house, we all knew we would coax him into having fun like swimming in the pool at 2am in the dead of winter.

”You—What?” I laughed. “Stalking me, are you?”

“Me and Tara literally were meeting up,” she said as she lifted her hand to her. Tara laughed as she agreed with her and shook her head to intervene. “We stopped at the Trader Joe’s right there on the—the—and you guys were—“

”She’s right, I totally forgot. We got stuff for an apartment clean out night, and you and Sam were getting dinner or something.” I glared at Tara for egging this on.

”Colby needed us out of the house so we just got some food before we saw some friends—Why are you weaponizing this?”

”I’m not weaponizing,” she burst out laughing. “I’m just saying what a coincidence.” That toothy smirk and interlaced fingers made my eyes roll to the back of my head.

“You’re an idiot. We literally aren’t—“

“No one said anything about dating,” Tara said as she sipped her drink with raised brows. “Why did Colby even need you gone?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to, Tar—“

“Uh no?” I laughed. “He was literally freaking out about getting shit done, I don’t fucking know—“

“Oh!” Tara gasped. “Speaking of—“

I stood straight as I felt arms around me. They came from around my neck and rested in front of me, face pressed against mine.

“Speaking of? What the hell does that mean?” Sam’s voice is loud in my ear and I drowned in it.

“Oh you know, just talking about Colby’s meltdown earlier this week,” Tara replied.

“Whoa, excuse me,” he said from behind Tara. She looked back at him with a laugh. “I literally was actually working unlike these bafoons.”

Good thing Sam pulled away and hugged the other girls at the table or else I would have collapsed.

“Oh so what you're saying is you kicked them out so they could go on a date, right?”

“What—“ Colby asked, completely taken off guard. “No? They got dinner then grabbed stuff for us to watch movies and actually chill. What do you mean date?”

“Oh my god Tara, you’re being weird,” I said, but as I looked at her, she shook her head with that pesky smile. I decided to interrogate her sometime before the night was over.

“How was last night?” Sam asked as he made his way back to me. I stayed with my best friend overnight after the party at her house because she was utterly blacked out. I was as well—don’t get me wrong—but she had a different kind of black out in her system.

“It was great, I don’t remember anything.”

“Jesus fuck,” he laughed. “At least you’re here in one piece—“ I didn’t miss the way his eyes trailed up and down my body. “—and she’s not, like, dead, yeah?”

“Yeah Sam, literally—I think we slept all day and Tara was the one who called us both over and over to make sure we were up before everyone came to get us ready.”

“You look really nice,” he said immediately after. My smile dropped.

“Thanks, you do too.”

And he pulled his hand away from my back; his palm grazed my arm as he stepped back. I didn’t realize he even held me there.

“I’m getting drinks, do you want something?”

“Yeah, whatever is fine.” He nodded and took other people’s drink orders before retreating to the bar.

I stood in disbelief that Tara said that. To Colby’s face as well. Now I retraced every step I took with Sam; perhaps it could have been taken like we were dating.

But we all knew we weren’t. We had been best friends since middle school. It was clear; none of us liked each other like that. That was how we stayed together for so long without heartbreak or problems.

So I wouldn’t allow it to be a problem, no, this feeling in my stomach might have confirmed Tara’s words, but it didn’t matter.

The words would never leave my mouth.

Colby caught himself in conversation a few tables over, and I stayed with Tara and our friends at the table for only a few more moments until Sam came back and slid me a drink.

Of course it was the drink I always ordered for myself. I didn’t have to ask for it anymore; obviously he had known it forever now. Tara eyed the drink, my face, the drink…

Sam left without a word and mingled with the same group Colby was in.

It got out of hand now, I knew, and Tara’s words made it much more tangible than it had to be. No one had said anything to my face—nor their faces—yet, and for it to happen so suddenly and during a time of weakness nearly broke me.

But how could I not let my body not react when I looked up and saw Sam as he spoke and laughed with friends? He looked too good tonight, he always did, but I never chalked it up to be this kind of good. His glasses, his hair, his face; so familiar but so different. Then his eyes caught mine. Fuck. Too pretty, too blue in the lights; his head leaned to the side in question.

I hardly finished two drinks but they had to have done something to me because what were these thoughts?

“You good?” I felt a hand on my arm.

“Totally! I was thinking that I’m bored,” I said as I looked at the girls.

“We’re waiting for a couple more then we were going to party, I promise!”

“You would be pregaming at the game wouldn’t you?” Vereena jeered, and while Tara glared at her, I laughed and grabbed my drink.

“When we’re ready, come and get me.”

“Sure thing!”

Who else was I to go to than the boys?

But Sam turned around and walked towards me before he noticed I was headed to them. I paused, and when he turned, he gasped and halted right in front of me.

“Oh hi,” he said quickly. “I was about to go so hi to some people, but—“

“Alright, I was just—“

“It’s fine, I haven’t seen you for like two days.” His arm linked around my neck and I rolled my eyes.

“Please, it was a night.”

“In the morning it will be two days.”

“Well, aren't you keeping track.”

“No,” he dragged out bashfully. We walked haphazardly from our friends and deeper into the club where the lights were far and few between and the music was louder until I felt it reverberating my teeth.

“Tara said I fuck ton,” he laughed.

“What are you talking about?” I shouted over the music. We caved into each other, my hand linked with his that was over my shoulder.

“She made fun of us being on a date right in front of Colby.” I looked at him with crazy eyes.

“What are you talking about? So we were on a date?” THat was when he smiled so wide his face flushed.

“No, nothing like that.”

“Nothing?” I gasped. “I mean, I don’t blame her, it was feeling kind of date-ish.”

“If you think that was a date then maybe you need to be shown what a real one is.” We stopped walking and I looked back at him with a smile fallen face.

“And you would be the one to show me?”

“I didn’t think you’d ever want to have this discussion.” His smile was long gone as well. We faced each other, so close that with one deep breath we would touch.

“I didn’t realize there was a discussion we needed to have.” He shook his head in defeat.

He took a deep breath then stepped away.

“Sam—“

“I don’t—You don’t—“

“I know,” I said firmly without breaking eye contact. “I know.” I repeated with more assurance than I ever felt before.

A second.

Another.

He inched closer.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t smile and he didn’t look away. I swallowed down nothing—my tongue was so dry—but I looked back at him nonetheless. And then his hand came up and touched my face as if he couldn’t resist it. My hand held his wrist just in case he was an idiot and pulled away.

“You’re so dumb, such an idiot.”

“I’m an idiot?” I gasped. “You are! You’re the one who won’t look away from me and then have the audacity to call me an idiot when you want to kiss me so bad.” That cracked a small smile from him.

“No, I mean, in all places, you decide to let me kiss you for the first time in a dark club away from all our friends?”

“God, and we aren’t even drunk. What is wrong with us?”

He smiled widely before he grabbed my face with two hands and pulled me into a kiss.

Of course I held onto both of his wrists now—just in case he was an idiot for a second time since everyone knew he was—but this only caused him to step deeper into me and knock me off balance. I gasped against him only for his tongue to divide my lips and taste what was behind.

“Sam,” I gasped his name against his mouth and he only hummed into me. One of his hands fell down and held my waist—tugging, grasping for something—and my arm wrapped around his neck. Fuck, he couldn’t get close enough to me.

My heart stopped the second he moaned into me. I could barely hear it, but I felt it in my mouth, on his skin. He kissed me like he meant it. I would taste him, feel it for days, and even if I wanted to forget, I knew the numbness of my tongue would itch for more and more—

“Oh my god—“ I leapt from him faster than how this all started. He too looked back to the voice, Tara, and he smiled widely. “I fucking knew it you motherfuckers, gaslighters if I’ve ever known them, and you damn well know I do—“

“Tara, chill,” I laughed. “If it makes you feel better, it was the first time that happened.”

She gasped with wide eyes.

“ShIt, sorry I—“

“You’re fine,” Sam laughed. His fingers tangled with mine. “We were just coming back, actually.”

“We were?” I whispered as we followed Tara back to the tables.

“Shit,” he expelled and looked at me with a look I hadn’t seen from those familiar eyes. “What else did you want from me?”

I looked straight ahead even though I knew his eyes were hooked on me.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “Whatever—Whatever you could think of I guess.” He sucked in a breath and neither of us said a word until we joined with our friends again.

His grip on my hand tightened exponentially.

“Someone get these jackasses more drinks since they clearly haven’t had enough to chill,” Tara said. I glared at her and Sam walked up to Colby. My heart was in my throat at that point. There was something about Tara spilling the beans to our friends about our kiss mixed with the sight of Colby locking eyes with mine and them slowly widening when he realized.

His lips ever so slowly parted and he smiled with a shaking of the head.

“Fucking knew it,” he said. I didn’t hear him, but I read his lips and Sam shoved him back as he walked past him for a drink. Colby and I stepped closer together as a smile pulled at my mouth and he laughed loudly. “You are so fucking dumb,” he laughed still, and his hands raised in self defense as I wanted at him.

“I’m not dumb; he is.”

“Do you know how hard it is to read you? You literally say and do four different things. You had the poor man pining for years.”

“And I was supposed to know that? Maybe if he just sucked it up and kissed me—“

“Jesus fuck, just blame everything on me, what don’t you? If you want me to kiss you that bad—“

I choked on myself as Sam grabbed me and kissed me there in front of everyone. I swore I combusted the moment I heard my friends get loud, and Sam smiled into this kiss. Of course I pushed him off way too fast for him, but he accepted it.

He didn’t let go of my hand.

He didn’t let go of it all night.

We partied, drank, sang, and talked until we forgot time existed. I couldn’t get this fuzzy ringing out of my head either. I did shots with the girls, Sam got me another drink, and if fourteen year old me knew where I was that night, she probably would have spontaneously combusted.

Because Sam? No way.

No fucking way.

But I kissed him, tasted him, and drank with him and sat on his lap like it had been normal for years.

Perhaps it should have been

I grew antsy.

I couldn’t think straight and I toppled over my shoes. When did they get so tall? And when did it get cold?

We were outside, we were on our way home. Not home. Colby spoke to Sam and it felt like they schemed something behind my back, they always did that, didn’t they? Sam shook his head and I was about to ask him what was up until Colby slipped him the hotel room key card.

Oh.

That’s what was going on.

And he got into a separate Uber.

Sam and I were alone.

No amount of training could have gotten my heart strong enough to handle this night. I hoped the Uber driver didn’t hear its pattering in its place, if it was even there anymore.

Sam’s arm was behind me and I leaned into him; I didn’t know what to say because then the entire world could hear. Suddenly it was as if every word I could possibly say was for Sam and Sam’s ears only.

His voice broke a thank you as we left. Thank god whatever hotel they booked for tonight was close to the club. Did that mean Colby went home? No, he got into that Uber, right. And he followed two girls in, there was a fourth person I thought. I didn’t remember shit—

The closing of the hotel room silenced my busy brain.

Sam pinned me to the door and it was all blood and guts from there.

I memorized the way he tasted as if to make up for lost time, and his hands did the same on my skin. I was so cold, so hot at the same time that he warmed me but sent chills down every inch.

”Holy shit, you’ve driven me so fucking crazy for so long. I didn’t think this—“ Sam couldn’t waste another second of empty air.

A noise yanked from the back of my throat when his arm latched under my leg and pulled it up. My jaw dropped when he rolled his hips into mine and I could have blacked out. Maybe it was the alcohol that amplified my senses, but either way Sam’s touch was enough for me to lose it.

”Can—Can feel you through your jeans,” I whined. I didn’t know what I said, I just needed.

”Yeah baby? I won’t—fuck—won’t even make it to the bed—“

”Need you now.”

He watched me intently when his hand slipped down and palmed at my underwear. I flinched because they must have been disgusting after so long—

He had a visceral reaction.

His moans cut straight to where he touched me, and I pulled him closer, closer.

”Please.”

”No need to beg.” His voice was gentle.

Fingers moved my underwear to the side and he teased me once as if to ready me, but there was no use.

”Holy shit,” he moaned yet again when two fingers immediately slipped into me. “You’ve wanted it for so long, haven’t you? You’re already ready.”

”I thought you were going to touch me after you kissed me the first time.” He choked a laugh.

”Yeah and then make not only our first kiss but our first time together be in a club? Absolutely not.”

”Oh so you planned to torture me like this?”

“I mean look at you; you’re writhing for me like I’m never going to touch you.”

”Just please—“ My head hit the door when he furiously tapped the spot inside of me. The leg that supported me caved, and he pinned me harder to the door. And that was when his mouth latched to my skin. I didn’t care. I wanted to wake up and see the red angry bruises from the night before.

Wanted the world to see them.

”Sam, I swear to god, just get inside of me.”

”Fuck,” he groaned against my skin. “Okay, okay.”

“Holy shit—Oh fuck oh fuck,” I gasped in anticipation. He moaned as he freed himself from the confines of his jeans and didn’t waste any time removing any of our clothes—

I held my breath when he filled me to the brim. He paused. I felt his breath stop as well. My entire body shook with the adrenaline that he caused, and for a second I wondered if some people were genuinely made for others.

“Shit, look at me, look at me,” he said. His voice had been deathly quiet since the moment we stepped foot behind this door. His hand latched to my throat and pushed it to the wall. And as he stared deep in my eyes like he did at the club when he kissed me for the first time, he thrusted into me once, twice—

I had to close my eyes or else he would have killed me.

“Fuck! Sam please just—You feel—“

“Feel so fucking good, oh my god,” he finally moaned louder. His head tossed back. My hand caved over his hand that pinned down my waist tightly. He sped up, everything felt faster and faster, more intense.

“Fuck me, oh god, fuck me Sam. I need you so hard—“

“I know, baby, I know.” He gasped under his breath as he gained better leverage of my leg that he held over his elbow.

This time, he knocked the breath out of me.

“Holy fuck—yes, yes, yes,” I moaned and more inaudible words poured from me. I was inconsolable. I couldn’t control anything that came from my mouth anymore.

And I thought I was the one we had to worry about being too loud; his moans mixed with mine in the hot air between us, and I swallowed them down with every distracted and messy kiss.

”You—Ugh,” he groaned loudly and tossed his head back. I watched in disbelief as that beautiful face twisted with a pleasure I could only imagine before. “I’m so obsessed with you holy shit.”

”Bed, please, need it hard.”

”Okay—“ I bit my lip to distract myself from the empty feeling when he pulled out of me. His hands grabbed me with a fervor they never had and I gave him control as he yanked me around and towards the unused bed.

I knew he tried to throw me down, but I didn’t let go of him and forced him down on top of me. I caught him in a kiss, and a whine broke from him as if he never thought he could touch me like this. I knew. I could tell; I could read him like a child’s book.

“Off,” he demanded, and that was all it took. I helped him yank off the black tank that was a bit too tight already. I didn’t dare try to help him with my skirt; clearly he wanted all of me to undress, to undo, by himself.

As he took off my clothes, he kissed down my body, and I scooted back and properly lay on the pillows. I needed some kind of support—another kind of anchor—because this new side of Sam was something I almost didn’t handle. He almost shot me through the atmosphere with an adrenaline fueled pleasure that was so foreign to me.

“Taste so good,” he quietly hummed in between kisses.

”Haven’t really tasted me yet,” I gasped with my hands tangled in his hair. He’s hooked his head as his fingers slid my underwear off completely.

“Just your skin is enough—“

But it wasn’t all.

I had to bite the back of my hand when his tongue pressed against me. One of his hands held down my hips as the other shoved a thigh back.

“Sam—“ I cried and he moaned against me and tasted me, pleased me, more and more. It was like he couldn’t get enough; I couldn’t get enough, and he needed to give me everything until I was satisfied.

Could I ever be satisfied by him? I was selfish. I needed all of him all the time forever, maybe then I would be satisfied.

”Ugh! Oh my god, please,” I broke.

”Please what?” Fuck that sweet voice. Maybe he would never get the chance to satisfy me, he would kill me first. His finger tips ever so lightly swirled against me where his tongue made disgustingly wet, and his eyes flashed up at me with a look that made me forget every word I learned.

”Please—Hands, I need you—“

”I know that, how do you want me?”

”Fuck—You know!”

”Want you to tell me.” Another whine escaped me as he kitten-licked me once, twice. “Say it.”

”Fingers! I need your fingers inside me, please. Finger me and—oh fuck!” It was incredibly slow, I know that, but the intensity washed over me like a wildfire when two fingers pushed inside. The confidence in his touches alone were what sent me spiraling.

”And what?” Another noise came from me. I didn’t know where that gentle confidence came from. Did his other girlfriends get this? What about me? Mine. He was mine now and no one else’s.

”Need your tongue, please. Put your mouth on me.” The sentence still hung in the air when he dived back into me. This time he used his arm against my lower stomach to pin me down from writhing. I don’t remember what I said; I couldn’t hear the words that poured from my aching throat. All I knew was that it was enough for him to keep going and going until tears blurred my vision. “Sam, please. Please, I‘m—“

”You what, baby?” That fucking teasing.

”I’m going to cum.”

”Oh,” he said as if he didn’t already know that. And he sat up to his knees; his eyes watched his hand as it lazily fell down the work he did on me.

”No please! I want—“‘

“I know it feels good,” he cut me off. “But I want things too and if I’m not inside of you again literally this second I—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Something nasty in me wanted to find out what he would do.

”Then hurry.” I sat up and fumbled with the top two buttons of his shirt so that I could at least slip it off his head, and he worked his jeans off.

”Holy fuck just—oh god—just stop,” he demanded and grabbed my wrist. “Lay down.”

“Sam, come on,” I whined through gritted teeth.

Finally he kicked his jeans and underwear to the floor.

”The amount of times I’ve imagined you in my bed is—is unreal,” he said quietly as he crawled over me. My stomach dropped.

”Then why did you have so many girls?” A disgusted laugh broke from his mouth.

“‘Cause you didn’t want me—at least I thought. And how was I supposed to ruin what we had?”

“You wouldn’t have,” I gasped as he slid teased me up and down with his tip. My head shoved deepening into the pillows and I needed a break from watching him or else I would have passed out.

“I didn’t know.”

“But how?”

“How didn’t you?” The grit in his voice tied my throat in a knot and he firmly pushed into me. He didn’t give me any room to run away—not like I would have—but he pinned my thighs back. I had to take what he gave me. Good thing I wanted nothing less.

“How didn’t you?” I shouted back.

That was when he wrapped his hand around my throat and actually pinned me down. My hand held onto his wrist and he came nose to nose with me.

”Wanted you so bad—holy shit—wanted you for so long—“ He couldn’t even finish his sentence, he needed his mouth on mine. I drank him down like he was the last water on earth and I hadn’t drank in weeks. He tasted like heaven in my mouth, and I wished I could feel more and more of him. I knew him all too well, and now I wanted to know him in every way physically possible.

“You don’t even know,” he laughed when he pulled away. A gasp shoved out of me when he linked my leg over his arm. I tried to listen to him, but how could I when he was so infinitely deep in me I didn’t have any more capacity for words. “Literally—I literally imagined it was you when I kissed other girls. Pretended I fucked you and not them. Fuck, it was never enough.”

”Sam,” I gasped at the confession. What was I supposed to say to that? The tears really never cleared up. Not with the unreal stimulation, not with the desperate confessions falling off his sweet tongue. “Wanted you. I was so mad—“ He cut me off with more kisses.

There was enough time to talk later. Right now he decided he needed to kiss it all away and make up for what we lost.

I lost track of time. Any amount could have passed and it would have felt the same. Maybe he fucked me so hard I would feel him for days, but never would this feel like only that. He was more than that, and I should have accepted it long ago. It must have always been there, because two years of living together wouldn’t have brought these feelings, no. I must have wanted him before. Before everything.

“Oh my god,” he gasped for breath. “I love you so much, shit I love you.”

”I love you too, you know I have.” He nodded.

”So close,” he whispered this time. That haze in his eyes gave it away.

“I know, inside of me. I need your cum in me.”

”Are—fuck—Are you sure? You—You aren’t on birth control—“

“I don't care, I'll deal with that later.”

“Fuck, you’re really going to kill me, aren’t you?” I couldn’t say anything else, and I smiled from the over abundance of butterflies in my stomach from his words.

”Fuck—I’m coming,” I gasped. I don’t know where it came from. It was like only he had an on and off switch for me.

”Yeah? With me then, baby.”

I couldn’t even kiss him as I hit my high. It more so grabbed me by the throat and had a death wish for me. We moaned into open mouthed kisses; clearly he was too overcome to kiss me back as well. I held onto him like I was scared he would fall away from me, but how could that ever happen?

He got even closer to me, and pushed me down as tightly as he could. My hand tangled in his hair, nails leave their marks on his skin.

I wanted to live in this silence between us; make it my permanent home. There was nowhere else I wanted to be, and there was no more longing in my tired heart. How stupid I felt. Hopefully he felt the same.

Kisses trailed up my neck. I was lost in the feeling of his gentle touches across my skin. Thankfully he didn’t make a move to get off of me because I didn’t have the strength to fight him to stay down on me.

And I don’t know what came over me, the words just tumbled out.

"I don't think I can settle with just dating you," I mumbled. Sam stared back at me in anticipation. My heart skipped beats like a rock across the top of slick still water.

"What are you saying?" His words were careful.

"Even if we got married, calling you my husband wouldn't amount to what you mean to me, what you are to me."

"Not even marriage is good enough for you," he sighed. I laughed at his artificial annoyance. "Of course I'd be stuck with the one insatiable person alive."

I grabbed his face with my hands.

"You're the only one who's satiated me. What we are doesn’t. The only way I'd be satiated without you deep inside me is the promise that we would be together even after this lifetime." I don’t think he blinked. He stared at me, lips parted with bated breath. Even as we laid connected still, and it was so far past the point of being disgusting, he pushed against me harder.

"Fuck, you’re the beginning and end of me."

A/N: Requests are open

Love, Rosie

#sam and colby #sam golbach #colby brock #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach smut #minors dni #18+ only

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