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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 11 months

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snowfall

summary: when she’s young and in between foster families, she meets a scrawny kid named Simon. Simon sits to the side while the other kids play, and she gives him her sandwich. When he leaves, forced to go back to his dad, she feels bad for him.

Then, when she gets older, she realizes that Simon was the lucky one. He made it out.

notes: based on the song snowfall, bc I’ve been listening to it and thinking about this fic a lot lately

warnings: mentions of abuse, human trafficking and childhood trauma. Violence. Allusions to smut? Afab!reader

taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

masterlist | requests are OPEN!

You’re back to square one, where you always end up when a foster family lets you go. A big, grey house that was built in the sixties and not once painted afterwards, that’s square one. Makeshift beds and damp rooms, showers that smell of piss and food that has the consistency of cardboard.

The house is so terrible on the inside that everyone flees into the parking lot, a barely better place to be. In the dirt-poor areas of Manchester, it’s all anyone can ask for. The younger kids play with chalk or run around, chasing each other, while the ones your age pass cigarettes and other stuff to each other.

None of you know each other’s names, but you’ve all seen each other in passing. Kids that were left on their own, that don’t trust easy won’t talk to each other either. Not really.

It’s rare to see a new face, so the teen sitting off to the side while the others talk catches you by surprise.

He’s massively tall already, but scrawny as hell, his hair in the awkward stage between short and being grown out. His eyes flit around, meeting no one else’s.

“Haven’t seen you before.” You greet, and he barely looks up. You offer him your name, and he pauses before he responds.

“Simon.” He says finally. There’s a short silence, broken by his rumbling stomach, and you hand him your sandwich without thinking twice. You’re not a big fan of tomatoes. He hesitates, inspecting it before he takes a bite. He barely nods as you tell him you don’t like tomatoes, and you doubt he even heard you.

“What are you doing here? Never seen you before.” You attempt, trying to make conversation. He shrugs in response, and you don’t pry further.

Simon sticks to you like glue in the days afterwards, a silent shadow that towers over you. Timmy, a kid that joined a gang after feeling overly confident, tries to approach you twice, but apparently, Simon’s glower is more intimidating than his stature.

After a week and a half, a social worker interrupts a game of Uno between you and Simon, pulling him away for a conversation. That usually means one of two things: going home, or going to a family of strangers.

You never get to find out which one it is, because Simon doesn’t say goodbye. You tell yourself that he made it home, or at least made it out. He seems like the type.

***

Against your hopes, and in line with all odds, you don’t make it out. Bouncing between foster families leaves you frustrated, angry and alone. A recipe for disaster, and you know it. Two years after Simon left the grey house that smelled like a germaphobe’s nightmare, you did as well.

Barely eighteen, with no one to back you up and not a single penny on your name, that went to shit quicker than you might have thought, and you found yourself exactly where you did not want to end up: the crime scene of Manchester.

It started off with little favors. Timmy convinced you. He said it wasn’t hard to sell drugs. That you’d only have to do it a few times, and then you’d have enough money to start yourself off with a real job. Something honest.

Something that would finally get you some real security. A sense of permanence.

Over the years, little favors turned into bigger favors.

Timmy, of course, didn’t know batshit about anything, and he certainly did not care to look into things more than he had to for you. And by the time your idiot, barely not-adolescent brain realized that, you were in too deep.

You’d done everything wrong, because selling drugs for a few days ‘wouldn’t hurt anyone’.

That was how you ended up as the cliché character of anti-everything prevention movies they showed you, back in the grey house. Abused, beaten-up, trafficked, sold, and not even out of your twenties.

Each time you thought about it, you wanted to laugh at yourself, to try and stop yourself from missing the gray house and the exhausted social workers that weren’t paid enough to care for any of you.

Just this time, you couldn’t go back to the gray house. You weren’t a child anymore. This time, people came for you to make sure that you’d pay them back what you owed them. Technically, what Timmy owed them.

They, whoever they were, took you away from Manchester, the only semblance of home you’d ever known. You found yourself in an abandoned cargo hall, freezing cold. From what you could see, it was snowing outside, the chill creeping inside. The girl next to you was out like a light, either from drugs, exhaustion, the cold, or a combination of all three.

You could make peace with the fact that you would never get out. You could just accept it, like you’d accepted everything else in your life. A voice in your head screamed that it wasn’t fair, and it felt like that scream was becoming more and more real. There was a ridiculous notion in the back of your mind, telling you to get up.

It bled into the screech from the gates of the cargo hall, protesting as they were opened. Your captors pointed their guns, but thick, white smoke filled the building, and you felt yourself become suddenly sleepy.

The last thing you saw were shadowy figures storming the hall, gunfire ringing out, smoke filling your nose and mouth.

***

When you came to, the smoke had dissipated, but you were still in the cargo hall. A group of men in camouflage walked around the hall, checking the men that were lying on the floor. One of them approached you and the others.

Almost automatically, you slinked backwards, out of his reach, but he gave you a soft smile.

He was young, too young to be in a place like this, with a sweet expression on his face that felt too saccharine to belong in the midst of this violence.

“I’m Gaz.” He said. “I’m with the British army, and we’re here to take you home. Are you hurt?”

Varying reactions came from the people around you, and you felt yourself numbly nodding. Home. Had a God heard your prayer and then decided to turn it into a joke?

The doctors arrived a while later, taking a look at everyone that had been with you. Some of the girls around you were drug addicts, and going into withdrawal was never pretty. The cargo hall quickly filled with the stench of vomit and cold sweat, but it meant that you got the time to look at the men that had stormed the hall. A gruff man with sideburns, a Scot with a mohawk that was chattering away with Gaz and-

He was hulking, a mountain that wore a skull instead of a face. You’d never met someone like him in your life, but he paused when he saw you, and you knew that he’d seen you before, this behemoth of a man.

***

It takes two more days before you’re back in England, but it doesn’t feel like a homecoming. Some of the girls have people waiting for them, parents, children, boyfriends, girlfriends to run into their arms and hold. Some are like you. No one comes, and they leave on their own.

You want to follow them. You can’t go back to Manchester. You’ll only return for your papers, if those still exist, and then you’ll leave.

You’re about to finally lift your feet from the cold, concrete floor when you feel a pair of eyes burning into your back.

Turning around, you see it’s the one they call Ghost. He’s standing off to the side, and it reminds you of something. You can’t figure out what it is, even though you try so so hard to just remember.

“Thank you for getting us out of there.” You blurt out, and he looks like he wants to say something, his jaw almost cramping together as he makes a tiny movement. You think it’s towards you.

“I owed you for the sandwich.” He says. The shrug looks forced, and you know that he can’t bring himself to say something more honest. “No tomatoes, of course.”

The seconds it takes you to understand seem to tick by outside of your brain, like a clock hammering with each moment passed. Then, your jaw falls slack.

“Simon?” you ask, too loudly, and the Scot named Soap snaps his head around to stare at you.

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t have to. You recognize his height, his eyes, the awkward standing off to the side so suddenly that it hits you like a fucking train. How couldn’t you see it before?

This is Simon. The kid that-

“You left without saying fucking anything!” you accuse, and you’re sure the others think you’re exes.

He just nods, and that almost infuriates you. But he made it out. He made something of himself, and you have to respect that. It’s all you want, always slipping away from your grasp, and Simon got it. Carved it out for himself, by the looks of it.

And finally, after an eternity, Simon steps forward and holds out a bag with the yellow-and-green subway logo on it.

“Hope you like it.” He mumbles, and it’s an almost adorable gesture. There’s no tomatoes, as he promised. Someone remembered something from your childhood.

You take the bag, and then you take the step separating you and hug him tightly. Are you overstepping a boundary? Is he going to push you off roughly?

He doesn’t hug you back, but he does allow you to wrap your arms around him (or, as much as you can do that with his new size).

His teammates stare, but you don’t let go. Not for a while.

“You got a place to stay?” he asks, when the others have gotten over the shock of your interaction. There’s genuine concern in his eyes, and a part of you hopes that you’re special in this, because you helped him too. Somehow.

“McDonalds is always open, and I’ve got…” you reach into your pocket, finding a crumpled note. “Enough for a large drink.”

He shakes his head. He offers his apartment, his home up to you and you should say no because he could traffic you, or rape you, or hurt you just enough to make you drag yourself back to Timmy.

You get into the car with him, and your mind screams danger. Your gut’s feeling alright though, so you ignore it.

The first change beyond the obvious of his massive frame that you notice is that he’s gotten even quieter. While you drag yourself up the dark staircase with some effort, he stays true to his name, not a single scrape coming from his combat boots.

In the apartment, he switches on the light, and you take in the spartan interior. A small kitchen, a sofa, a TV, a coffeetable with a mug still on it. No dinnertable, but three pictures on the refrigerator.

A young boy, a woman that reminds you of the younger Simon (maybe his mother?) and his teammates. Gaz, Soap, the older guy, two men that you don’t recognize, standing in scenery that looks almost tropical.

He lets you stare, before he quietly shows you the bathroom. You let the lock click behind you, even though you know that wouldn’t make much of an obstacle for the person he’s become.

You shower as quickly as you can, slipping back into your underwear. You hesitate for a moment, and then you grab the big, fluffy bathrobe hanging over the towel rack. Someone had vomited on your shirt, and you refused to put it on again.

The robe was too big for you, black with white skulls on it, and you highly doubted that Simon had bought it for himself. Maybe the Scot that cracked jokes with, or rather at him, had bought it for him and he’d caved to using it.

When you walked out, Simon was pulling clean sheets over the bed in his bedroom. He lifted his head when he heard you, and even through the balaclava, you knew he was lifting a brow at you.

“You’re wearing Soap’s bathrobe.” He commented.

“Someone vomited on my shirt.”

Simon did not reply, but he did turn around to rummage in his closet, throwing you one of his old shirts. You went back into the bathroom to put it on, and decided to not comment on the fact that it looked like a midi dress on you.

He closed the door behind him when he went to sleep, and the click of the lock felt a little insulting to you. Yet, you couldn’t expect him to trust you.

Sleep did not come easy to you, and when it did, you only had nightmares.

After a particularly bad one, you woke up with a start, only to find yourself face-to-face with one of your captors, face hid behind a balaclava, and you screamed.

Only after a few moments did you realize that it was Simon.

Between your panicked apologizing, and his nervous tea-making, it took a while for either of you to speak.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I was leaving.” He said finally, sitting across from you on the sofa, and still managing to take up three fourths of it.

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t know me.” You replied.

“I clung to you.” He said under his breath, as if it was an admittance of weakness.

“I liked it. Made me feel less alone.”

Your hands found each other in the dark, his fingers curling around yours and you swore that you could feel his heart hammer in his wrist.

“I don’t want to go to Manchester alone.” You whispered. It was an admittance of defeat.

“I’ll go with you.” Simon replied. He had no incentive to.

In the dark, it didn’t feel as preposterous or dangerous to move closer to him. He stilled when your knee bumped against his leg, and you held your breath, waiting for his rejection.

It didn’t come, only a shaky breath from Simon that gave the smallest of hints about how he was feeling. His hand was still holding yours, warm and a little rough, but it felt real. It made you move closer, to try and lean into his touch.

His hand slipped from yours, and for a moment, you thought that you’d done something wrong, but then you felt it on your waist, and Simon pulled you onto his lap. Your hands flew to his chest to steady yourself, and you could feel his hammering heart beating under his shirt.

Simon was so massive that he engulfed you, drowned out everything around you, and you loved it. There was nothing but him, and that didn’t scare you. It made you feel unfathomably safe.

He hugged you suddenly, a mirror gesture to what you’d done at the airport, his thick arms wrapping around you, pulling you even closer, until your lips were almost on his and he looked up at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t place, because no one had ever looked at you like that.

You couldn’t help kissing him. Slowly, asking, almost begging, you peeled up the lower half of his balaclava, waiting for him to tell you to stop. Instead, even in the darkness, you knew that the stubble on his jaw was blonde, because it was impossible to forget someone like him. Your lips found his and it felt so right that your hands snaked up to his jaw, cradling his face in the hope that he’d know you cared for him.

Simon returned your kiss equally as hungry, demanding the air you breathed from you, his embrace swallowing you, and you wanted to give it all to him. Your hands shook as you reached to slip them over the band of his sweats, still unsure if he’d reject you, or let you do it.

Cautiously, your hands slipped under his t-shirt first, his skin feeling like it was burning in comparison to your cold fingers, warm to the touch, and safe.

“I thought about you a lot.” You admitted between kisses. “Wanted to know what happened to you.”

Simon stilled at that, his gaze shifting, warping from one unreadable expression to another.

“Nothin’ good.” He replied finally. You felt like an idiot. Like you’d just ruined the moment.

“I’m sorry.” You said, because you had no idea what else to say. His hand found yours, and you felt like whatever was going to happen to you, it was going to be okay.

#simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x you #cod: mwii #cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost cod x you

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Summary: Grandma's funeral brings out a side of Ms. Sweetheart that Eddie hasn't ever seen, leaving the two of them questioning everything they've built up together.

Warnings: funeral service (I tried to keep it as neutral as possible so it could apply to any religion), mentions of cause of Grandma's death, failed attempt at sex, pretty much all angst sorry

WC: 5.1k

Chapter 10/20

Divider credit to @saradika Harris's note credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers

Eddie can’t remember the last time he went to a funeral. It might’ve been for one of Wayne’s friends, or a distant great-aunt twice removed. He doesn’t even own a proper suit for such an occasion; everything he’s wearing actually belongs to Wayne. He smooths down the creases in his black slacks; the material of anything other than worn denim is foreign against his legs. The elbows of his coat jacket are patched, and he slides his palms over them in embarrassment.

He takes a seat in one of the back rows, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible while the other mourners file in. There’s a pit growing in his stomach as his gaze swoops to the coffin resting at the front of the room. The realization that Grandma was inside was almost too much for him to handle, and he’d only met her a month ago. He hadn’t known her when she was…herself, but he saw glimpses of her now and again. The last time he was over for a Wednesday night dinner, she rested her head on his shoulder as though she’d done it a million times. You’d mouthed sorry, but Eddie had simply smiled and let Grandma stay there as long as she wanted. If he was being honest, he felt special, knowing that she was comfortable with him.

Eddie’s eyes are only drawn from the casket when he sees you walk among your family. He immediately takes note of your face, normally soft and vibrant, now stoic and emotionless. It’s a sharp contrast to your relatives, who wear their grief through bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. The hymn playing in the background fades out as a man speaks up at the podium.

Eddie’s barely listening, keeping his attention on you. He watches your mouth move as you recite the prayers along with the rest of your family, though he’s only half-listening to them. He’s never been one for organized religion, but he echoes the closing statement when everyone else does.

That’s when you stand up, smoothing down your dress at the back of your thighs, and walk towards the front of the room. You’re clutching a piece of paper in your hand, which Eddie notices is slightly trembling. He locks eyes with you, dragging his teeth along his bottom lip and offers the smallest of encouraging smiles. You acknowledge it with a tiny nod in his direction before taking a deep breath and beginning the eulogy.

“Um, h-hi.,” you start, stumbling over your words awkwardly. You clear your throat and try again. “Thank you all for coming to honor and remember Grandma. It’s evident that she meant a lot to so many people.

“When I was writing this eulogy, I kept thinking about who she was as a person.” You don’t let your gaze drift from Eddie’s, and you could swear that he’s the only force keeping you from crumbling to the ground in a heap of grief. “For a lot of us, we wonder what ‘big thing’ will define our lives. The occasion that people will remember us by, you know? But with Grandma, there wasn’t one ‘big thing.’ Her life was a series of little kindnesses that she made sure to sprinkle into her everyday life. Like, when I was a kid, my dad broke his ankle. My mom couldn’t leave me home alone, so Grandma drove him to and from the hospital and stayed with him while he waited. She always took care of us.

“One of my favorite memories is how she would bring me a bouquet of flowers after every dance recital I was in. She’d be waiting for me by the stage door with a big smile on her face, telling me what a great job I did, even if I totally messed up…she was the best. All she wanted was for the people she loved to be happy.

“And that’s what I associate with Grandma—love. How much I loved her, and how much she loved us. Just a few weeks ago, she was sharing Oreos with the kid I tutor, and it reminded me of how she used to be with me.” At that line, Eddie feels his lip quiver, tears dampening his lashes, and he ducks his head to keep you from seeing him break. This time, it’s more for your sake than his, since you’re leaning on him to remain upright. “I encourage all of you to find the little kindnesses in life, and to be the kindness in someone’s day.

“Grandma, you are already so missed. I hope you’re seeing the values you instilled in each of us. Rest easy. We’ll take it from here.” The only sounds in the entire room are the heels of your shoes clacking on the floor and sniffling from nearly everyone else in the congregation. You take your seat quietly, bowing your head as though trying to hide.

The rest of the service is a blur of hymns and prayers; nothing, Eddie notes, nearly as moving as the eulogy you gave. He barely notices when the people around him start moving, keeping a watchful eye on you. You’re trying to blend in amongst your black-clad relatives, but Eddie has no problem finding you. He cranes his neck just in time to see your family make a right through the doors, while you pivot left.

Instinctively, his hands tuck into his pants pocket as he fumbles for his cigarettes and lighter. He has no idea what to say to you, no idea where to even begin. He needs a smoke or three to clear his head before he sees you and stammers out some half-witted acknowledgment of your loss. There’s no time for that; however, because as soon as he steps outside, he sees you sitting on the steps. It’s freezing outside, but your arms are bare, and Eddie can see the prickle of goosebumps lining your skin.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he asks, drawing your attention as he takes a seat next to you. He shrugs off his own jacket, placing it over your shoulders without a second thought.

You offer him a sad smile, tugging the coat so it covers more of you. You didn’t realize how cold you were until you felt the contrast of his body heat. “Trying to avoid my family,” you admit, placing your hand over Eddie’s. “Could you take me home? I got a ride here from my uncle, but I really don’t want to go out to eat with everyone.” They’re probably arguing over where to get lunch right now, acting as though their matriarch isn’t about to be lowered into the ground.

“You sure?” Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together in concern. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want to take you away from them or anything.” He can picture the sneers he’ll receive, a pit forming in his stomach.

You remain unfazed to the conundrum he faces. “Trust me, you’d be doing me a favor. I can’t…” your voice catches, so you restart your sentence. “I can’t sit there while everyone’s smiling and laughing. That’s what happens when an old, sick person dies; people don’t even try to hide their relief. I need…I need to be alone.” You tuck your lips inside your mouth, attempting to bury your feelings.

Eddie nods, reaching over to take his keys out of the jacket you’re now wearing. “Yeah, no, I get it. We can get outta here.” He stands up, takes your hand in his to help you to your feet, and leads you to the car as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing either of you need is to be confronted by one of your relatives.

The two of you sit in the car quietly, without even the radio on. Eddie can’t remember the last time he’s had a silent car ride; he either has music playing, Harris yammering his ear off, or a combination of both. He keeps his hands at ten and two, internally debating whether or not to rest one on your knee. It wouldn’t be a sexual thing, not even close, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea. His grip remains steady, the hum of the engine is the only sound.

You take this time to study him, taking in the crow’s feet that line the edges of his eyes, the tiny patch of stubble that he’d missed while shaving, the slight dimple in his chin. You try and turn before he can catch you, and though your efforts are fruitless, he doesn’t quite call you out on it. “Y’good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, smoothing a part of your dress that isn’t wrinkled. “Could you come inside for a little while? I thought I wanted to be by myself, but I really want you to stay.”

You really want him to stay. Not just that you need company, but you want him specifically. The notion sets all of Eddie’s nerve endings alight. “‘Course,” he replies, perhaps a bit too casually to cover up his excitement over the realization that he brings you some form of comfort.

When he pulls into the apartment complex’s parking lot and shuts off the ignition, he takes the opportunity to hold your hand again. It’s so much different than when he held it a few days earlier on your date, when there was an atmosphere of joy and hope. Now it’s like he’s pulling you along, like his lead is what has you placing one heel-clad foot in front of the other.

You unlock the door, accidentally leaving the key within its latch, and Eddie quietly removes it and places it on the table. His fingers ghost your biceps to remove your–his–coat from your body, but you just pull it on farther like a safety blanket.

“Y’want coffee? ‘M gonna put on a pot,” you offer quietly, already heading over to the kitchen. You scoop out a serving of coffee grounds for you, inhaling the hazelnut scent before dumping it into the basket, glancing over at him for his response.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he nods, and you put another scoop in before filling the carafe with tap water. With a flick of the power button, the Black + Decker rumbles and kicks on, and the drip drip drip of coffee fills the room.

You grab two mugs from the cupboard and place them on the counter. “How’d you even find out about the funeral?”

Eddie walks over, though he feels as though he can’t get close enough. He just wants to hold you tight and never let go, but you’ve put up some sort of barrier that he can’t quite interpret. “Oh, um, I asked Byers. I hope you don’t mind–I tried calling you, but it said the line was disconnected.”

Your cheeks burn. “That was Grandma.” Eddie looks confused–rightfully so–and you elaborate. “The morning that she…she got annoyed with the phone ringing, so when I wasn’t looking, she took the scissors and cut the wire.”

Eddie’s jaw drops in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. I left the house for a few minutes to get a new phone, and when I came back, she’d fallen asleep and…” you swallow thickly, rummaging through the refrigerator for the tiny carton of half-and-half, “…and she never woke up. First call I made with the new phone was to 9-1-1, but it was too late.” Too late. That’s what the EMTs told you: I’m sorry, but it’s too late.

“Oh, Sweetheart. My sweet girl…” Eddie’s heart lurches, and he instinctively reaches out to you. One hand lays between your shoulder blades while the other rubs up and down your spine. He’s careful not to let it drop too low, never going past the small of your back. Though you’re pressed flush to his chest, there’s still a strange disconnect between you.

Despite every urge you have to cling to him, you pull away and shove a teaspoon into the sugar bowl, sliding it towards him on the counter. “S’okay. I mean, it’s not, but…they said she’d had a heart attack. If I didn’t get the phone, I wouldn’t have been able to call for an ambulance anyway.” The dripping of the coffee maker slows as it finishes brewing. “Only thing I could do is go back in time and stop her from cutting the wires, and Melvald’s was all outta time machines,” you joke, but it falls flat.

Eddie frowns, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the countertop. “You don’t have to do this, y’know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Pretend like you’re alright,” he explains, voice hardly louder than a whisper. He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

You feel an anger rising within you, though you’re unable to pinpoint its origin. “I am alright,” you insist through gritted teeth.

Eddie shakes his head, peering at you through his impossibly long eyelashes. “It’s okay to be sad–”

“Don’t you get it, Eddie?” You cut him off with a snap, slamming the coffee pot down so harshly that it almost cracks. “I’m not sad. I’m not relieved. I’m not anything. My grandma just died, and I don’t feel a goddamn thing! It’s like I’m some kind of monster.”

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” He hugs you again, holds you even tighter than before as he kisses the top of your head. “You’re not a monster, ‘kay? I promise you.”

You look up at him, not quite believing his words, but you press your lips to his. He kisses you back gently; timidly even, but you deepen it and graze his tongue with your own. Your left hand weaves its way through his messy curls and your right fumbles with his belt buckle, but you’re unable to unhook the clasp before he steps back.

“What’re you–” His eyes widen and he puts his hands up to avoid touching you, clearly confused by your behavior. If you had the capacity to be honest with yourself, you’d admit that you’re not sure why you’re doing this, either.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg, trying to reconnect your lips with his, but he just pulls away again. “Please, I…I need this. I need you.”

“If we sleep together for the first time right now, while you’re like this, you’ll regret it,” he says.

You don’t deny the accusation; instead, you double down on it. “Okay, so I’ll regret it! I’ll feel regret, but at least I’ll feel something!” Your trembling fingers brush against his shirt, trying to grab onto it and bring his body to you, but he turns with a scoff.

“You’d really be okay with that?” There’s unmistakeable anger in his tone, but it’s laced with something more than that; something that sounds more like hurt. “Regretting our first time together?”

“Didn’t we almost fuck on your couch the night we met? You didn’t even know my last name. You barely knew my first name.” Your words are biting, thick with malice. “When did you become so averse to meaningless sex?”

“Meaningless?” Eddie balks, digging his fingernails into his palms until they leave crescent-shaped marks. His lips contort into a perplexed grimace as he formulates a response. “I, um, I gotta go. I’ll call you–”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that line before, and I’m not falling for it again.” You can’t stop the words before they’re tumbling from your mouth, and you can’t take them back. “Shit, Eddie–”

“Just—don’t say anything else, ‘kay? I’m leaving.” He turns around, digging into his back pocket. “This is for you. From me and Harris.” He tosses a piece of notebook paper, folded into fourths, onto the end table and closes the door with a slam.

You stand there, dumbfounded at what just occurred–mostly at your own actions. When you move towards the paper, you realize that you’re still wearing Eddie’s suit jacket, and you yank it off and throw it to the ground, leaving it in a heap. You open the note and read, vision blurred from the tears threatening to spill over.

The innocent kindness of a little boy is all it takes for you to break down and cry, muffling your sobs in your palms though there isn’t anyone around to hear them. Grandma was gone. You’d chased Eddie away with the same vitriol he’d spewed at you that day at the record store. You’re really, truly alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you chant to no one in particular. You’re sorry to Grandma, for leaving her home alone. You could’ve asked Jess to run out and get a new phone, but you’d needed a break from Grandma’s anger that was always directed towards you. That morning, after you’d discovered the cut phone line, there had been another argument over taking her medication, and she yelled “I HATE YOU!” at the top of her lungs. Then she sat at the table and ate a bowl of cereal like nothing had happened. Instead of taking a deep breath and brushing it off, you��d grabbed your keys and headed to RadioShack. You could’ve driven there, it would’ve made the trip much faster, but you’d decided to walk. The fresh air would do you good, you told yourself, pushing away the full truth of the matter: you’d desperately needed to be away from Grandma. When you got back, she was laying on the couch, and you would’ve sworn she was only sleeping…

You’re sorry to Eddie. Sorry that he’d wasted his time with someone who resorted to dredging up the past as soon as she felt an ounce of anger and rejection. Someone who insisted that he could trust her and then promptly shattered that rapport once he’d let his guard down.

And for a split second, you allow yourself to feel sorry for you. Sorry that you couldn’t even grieve properly without feeling like you didn’t deserve it, because if you were home, Grandma might still be alive.

You look down at the card one more time, choking out a laugh through your tears at Harris’s offer to share his grandpa. It dawns on you that you’ll either have to stop tutoring him or continue to see Eddie on a weekly basis. Everyone who comes in contact with me gets entangled in my problems, you note miserably. Eddie’s finally getting his life together and I’m fucking it all up. He deserves better than me.

Maybe it’s a good idea to leave Hawkins and go back home, at least for the holidays. You’re not sure what type of celebrations the family will muster up, but it’s better than being alone with your thoughts. And if you never return, that might be best for everybody.

The bell above the drugstore door chimes as Eddie pushes his way in. He smoked out his remaining cigarettes on the drive over, and he’s desperate for another pack. He makes a beeline for the back wall, plucking his usual Camels from the display. “Perfect,” he mutters, though his lungs would certainly disagree.

As he shuffles towards the cashier, he spots a familiar face in one of the aisles. His lurking cowardice screams at him to run away, but he shoves it deep down and talks anyway. “H-Hey, man. How’s it going?”

Jeff turns around, first bewildered at who’s speaking to him, then tensing up when he sees Eddie standing before him. “Can’t complain. Just getting some of these prenatal vitamin things for Viv,” he replies tersely, shaking the bottle to emphasize his statement.

There’s an awkward silence before Eddie speaks again. “Look, um, I’m really sorry about what happened at our last show.” He rubs the back of his neck and winces at the memory. “What I said, what I didn’t say…you’re gonna be a great dad, dude. Like, the best. I was just jealous, but that’s not an excuse to be an asshole.”

“Jealous?” Jeff cocks an eyebrow incredulously, willing Eddie to continue.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, shamefully averting his gaze. “You’re bringing a kid into a stable household, and I couldn’t do that for Harris. I don’t regret having him, of course, but I’ll always feel guilty about the shitshow he was born into.” He taps the pack of cigarettes on his palm, biting his lower lip to shut himself up. “Anyway, I gotta get home—”

“Eddie Munson?” He turns around to see a young woman standing behind him. Her low-cut top shows off the top of her breasts, cleavage pushed up by a bra, and her jeans hug every curve. She purses her pink-glossed lips together in a flirtatious smile.

“Y-Yeah?”

“I’m Lisa.” She says this like Eddie should already know this, and he’s embarrassed to admit to himself that he can’t place the name or face. “We hooked up last summer at the Hideout? In the men’s room?” Lisa lowers her voice seductively to whisper that detail. “I haven’t seen you there in a while.”

“Oh, yeah.” There have been multiple men’s room hook-ups, but he’s not about to play detective to figure out exactly who she is, so he plays along. “The band’s been on a bit of a…hiatus, I guess.” From his peripheral vision, he can see Jeff ducking his head, and his cheeks burn with the truth.

Lisa juts out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout, though Eddie knows it’s all for show. “That’s too bad.” She lets her hand rest on his chest, leaning into him and twirling a strand of his hair around a polished fingernail. “If you’re not busy tonight, I’d love to have you over for drinks and…dessert? Recreate that night at the bar, minus the urinal?”

Eddie moves her arms from his vicinity, putting a necessary space between them. “Um, n-nah. No thanks,” he clarifies. “I’m, uh, kinda involved with someone, so…”

She remains undaunted, a small chuckle escaping her throat. “I can keep a secret. She doesn’t have to know.” She takes another step forward to close the gap, and he’s so goddamn tempted, but he shakes it off. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going to happen between you and him, but he knows he’s not going to sabotage any potential relationship.

“Well, I’ll know,” he retorts, “and I’ll feel like shit about it.”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Your loss.” She pivots on one heel and mumbles something under her breath that Eddie doesn’t even bother to interpret.

Jeff looks at Eddie with an amused grin as he shifts his weight from one side to the other. “So, you’re involved with someone?” He knows from what Jess has told him that Eddie went on a date with you a few days ago, but he couldn’t gauge the seriousness of the situation.

“I think so. At least, I was, until about fifteen minutes ago.” He relents and fills Jeff in about everything that happened, from your conversation over steaming coffee mugs, to the amazing kiss you’d shared as snowflakes collected on your eyelashes, to the unexpected confrontation after Grandma’s funeral today.

Jeff sighs, but it’s one of sympathy, not exasperation. “You did the right thing,” he says finally.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeff laughs, punching him playfully on the arm. “I’m serious. And you did the right thing just now, too, with that groupie.” He clears his throat. “Viv’s baby shower is in a couple weeks. Ladies only, y’know, but I could use some help loading all the gifts into the car. And we could grab some lunch beforehand, if you want.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, that would be great. Might have to let Harris tag along, if that’s all right.” He doesn’t want to keep asking Wayne to babysit, no matter how much the old man insists that he doesn’t mind.

“Of course. You know that little man is always welcome.” Jeff says, walking towards the register. “I’ll call you with the details.”

Eddie hesitates, letting his friend pass him by a few paces before he calls out. “Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I do about…” Eddie trails off, unwilling to finish his sentence. He feels absolutely ridiculous having this conversation in the middle of the drugstore, but he’s desperate not to fuck this up further.

Jeff scratches at his stubble with his free hand, contemplating the options as only someone who’s been in a long-term relationship and hasn’t had to navigate the nuances of a fresh relationship in ages can. “Give her some time; a few days, at least. She’s going through a lot. She needs her space, y’know, to figure things out.”

It’s not the answer Eddie was hoping for; patience has never been his forte. He wishes that Jeff would have told him to chase after you, to go get the girl and make sure she knows how much she means to him. But he knows that his friend is right, and he acknowledges his response with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

“See ya around, Ed.”

Eddie unlocks his apartment door, new pack of cigarettes in one hand and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s tucked under the other arm. He doesn’t usually splurge on ice cream, but every romantic comedy cliche has instructed him that it’s the perfect remedy for heartbreak. If that’s even what this is, he thinks, but he knows it’s true. After doing everything in his power to prevent it, he’d allowed you to break his heart. And as he shoves a spoon into the container of Devil’s Food Chocolate, it dawns on him that he’d do it all again.

He’d come to your rescue and pick the lock of Grandma’s bedroom door. He’d sit around the table and eat pizza with you, Harris, and Grandma every Wednesday night. He’d drive to your house with store-brand cookies and watch cheesy Thanksgiving movies with you just to see the smile on your face. He’d take you out for coffee and kiss you in the snow a thousand times over. And he’d go to Grandma’s funeral and drive you home and turn down your offer for sex and break his own fucking heart again and again if it meant protecting you.

He shimmies out of his starchy dress pants and unbuttons his shirt, leaving himself in just a white undershirt and his boxers as he sinks deeper into the sofa. He reaches over for the remote–now that he works when Harris is in school, he rarely has time to watch something that he actually enjoys–and notices the phone’s red flashing light indicating that he has a new voicemail.

He presses play with a clumsy finger on the button, expecting Wayne’s gruff voice or a reminder for an overdue bill. When he hears that it’s you, he sits up straight, nearly dropping his ice cream.

“Hi, Eddie. It’s me. I’m so sorry for what happened earlier. I’m sure you’re probably mad, but I just want you to know…it wouldn’t have been meaningless. It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless.” You take a deep breath. “I’m going back home for the holidays. Um, I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back, but before I leave, I had to apologize for what I said. You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that. Have, um, have a nice holiday. Okay, bye.”

Eddie remains still, a loud silence enveloping the room once the machine relays that he’s reached the end of new messages. He’s dissecting every word you’d uttered, replaying them over and over.

It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless.

So you’d felt it, too; that spark much stronger than the usual lust that overcomes him during hookups. And while he’d tried to convince himself that he’d only asked you to cuddle, had you stay over out of post-sex, post-show delirium, he can’t deny the truth any longer.

He’d asked because he felt comfortable around you, like he could hold you forever and whisper secrets that scare him to even admit to himself. Maybe it was because you’d seen Harris’s car seat that night and hadn’t run for the hills, or maybe it was the way you’d kissed him like he was worth savoring. And the morning after, when he’d all but chased you out of the apartment…Christ, you didn’t deserve that.

I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back.

The ‘when’ he could handle, but that ‘if’ was a weight on his chest. He questions his actions for a moment–should he have slept with you? Showed you how wanted and cherished and safe you were with him? Given your mind a chance to wander from the grief choking it? But Jeff said he had done the right thing, and considering the man was engaged with a baby on the way, Eddie figured he had to know something about women.

You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that.

Is he? He’s certainly a better man than when you’d first met him, but is he actually a great guy? He’d bought you coffee and didn’t fuck you when you were too vulnerable to truly consent–is that what constitutes greatness, or is he just a step above a piece of shit?

And, of course, part of him is angry. Not only because you were so easily willing to use him–although that realization definitely stings–but mostly because you’d thought he’d want to. After everything you two had been through, did you truly believe that he’d be unbothered? That he’d throw away all of that progress just to get his dick wet? Is that how little you think of him? Eddie doesn’t want the answer.

The ice cream is melting, so he forgoes the spoon and just takes a swig from the pint. He licks the chocolatey residue from his lips before standing up to put the carton in the freezer. Tacked onto the refrigerator is Harris’s picture from Halloween where Eddie and Ms. Sweetheart are holding hands.

He plucks it from under the magnet, staring at it intently. The memory of his son and his uncle asking him about you, that pretty like a princess remark, the unfurling realization that he felt things for you that he’d thought he was incapable of feeling. He never should have taken their ribbings, inadvertently getting his hopes up that there was something there worth pursuing.

Without thinking, Eddie crumples the paper in his fist, crushing the family portrait into a ball. “Shit,” he mutters, placing it on the table and smoothing it out as best as he can. His hands glide over the drawing, rubbing over every crease until it looks good as new and Harris will be none the wiser.

But Eddie knows what’s been destroyed. What he doesn’t know is whether or not it can be smoothed out.

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cheolaholic · 3 months

Text

ring of love; csc (05)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n;; omg, i'm alive????? jkjk, work's been piling up lately and i'm honestly drained by the time I get back home so I couldn't do much writing or even qc the draft before yoinking them into a tumblr draft 💀 but anyways, hope yall enjoy this chapter !! uri boo makes a small little cameo in this chapter :D a part of the angst in this fic has also arrived, pls be prepared (it’s not that heavy tho).

You were 15 when you experienced your first ‘heartbreak’. Though, you call it a ‘heartbreak’ solely because it was a “for the lack of a better word” situation. A week before summer break, your parents had announced that the three of you would be flying off to Jeju to visit your grandparents.

You adore your grandparents, and they adore you just as much. Before you started middle school, you remember constantly flying off to Jeju, or even taking the ferry, to visit them every holiday and school break possible. Even during the initial stage of your move to the small town, your parents had sent you off to your grandparents as they sorted out the heavier parts.

Your grandparents had brought you to the beach, taught you how to make kimchi and even brought you to one of the fireworks shows during your stay. But, when you started middle school and were bombarded by a shit ton of schoolwork, you weren’t able to visit them as often.

So, you were ecstatic when your parents announced the Jeju trip. Both Aki and Seungcheol could see the excitement and happiness in your eyes as you told them about your plans.

Aki asking you questions about Jeju while Seungcheol listens to both of you with a small smile on his face. “how long will you be there, pup?” he asks, cheek leaning against the palm of his hand.

“Uhm… I think maybe for two weeks? I’m not really sure… Dad did ask mom if she wanted me to tag along with them to London afterwards…”

“Oh? What are they gonna be doing in London?”

“They have a business meeting that lasts at least two days. But, they decided to stay back a week for a mini vacation.”

“Do you want to go?” Aki asks as she pops a piece of strawberry into her mouth, stealing a glance at Seungcheol, noticing the way his shoulders are slumped at the mention of you thinking of joining your parents overseas.

Dude looks like a puppy not wanting its owner to leave it alone… she thought to herself, finding the scene in front of her amusing.

“Well, whether or not you want to join your parents, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself regardless!” she spoke.

“Take good care of yourself, pup,” Seungcheol added as he reached out a hand and patted your head, sending a faint blush spreading across your cheeks and a teasing smile on Aki’s lips, “If you ever need anything, call me, okay?”

“Or me!”

The older male rolled his eyes at Aki’s words, smiling when you nod your head.

“Seungkwannie!” you squealed out in happiness as you ran up to your cousin who was standing out at the gates of your grandparent's house, engulfing him in a big hug. “I can’t believe you’re here! Mom and Dad said that you’d be in Biyangdo!”

“And miss out on the chance to spend time with my favourite cousin? Never!” Seungkwan proclaimed as he pecked your cheek. “I haven’t seen you in years, ___! There’s no way I’d pass off the opportunity to spend time with you while you’re here!”

Seungkwan is your cousin from your mom’s side of the family. Before the age of 5, you don’t remember much about meeting Seungkwan other than the stories both your parents would tell you over family dinners. For example, when you asked them about the scar Seungkwan had on his chest, his dad said you were the one that left it on him. They proceeded to tell the story of how you had scratched Seungkwan because he had refused to let you watch Pocoyo on tv when both of you were just 3.

Or when his mom would ask you if you remembered Seungkwan hiding in the closet to scare you, but you ended up crying because you had thought he went home. So, instead of scaring you, he came out of the closet and both your parents found the two of you cuddled up on the floor the next morning

After Seungkwan helped you and your parents move the luggage into your grandparent’s home, Both of you sat on the porch, drinking the lemonade your grandmother had prepared. “How’re you, aunt and uncle doing?” he asks, “I heard from Uncle Lee that you’re starting high school soon! probably in a few months, right?”

“Things have been the same, besides the whole mom and dad having to go overseas occasionally and I had to stay with either Aki or Seungcheol.”

“Speaking of Seungcheol, how’s that little crush of yours on him going?” Seungkwan asked with a teasing smile, nudging your sides, “Ever thought of telling him before he graduates? There’s a chance he might head off to the big cities or even abroad for college.”

You were silent for a moment.

You have thought about telling Seungcheol your feelings, but you never thought about the timing. Now that his graduation is nearing, you still haven’t told him. As you were still stuck in your thoughts, Seungkwan places a hand on your shoulder, “Well, whatever happens, I wish you happiness.“

“You say that as if I’m leaving you forever.”

“Hey, let me be sentimental!”

Just as you rolled your eyes, you felt your phone vibrate - you had gotten a text from Aki.

aki: did you make it to Jeju safe? ___ bestie <3: yeap! ___ bestie <3: i’m with my cousin rn ___ bestie <3: [sent an attachment] aki: ooh, he’s cute ___ bestie <3: want me to introduce you? aki: gurl aki: don’t try to matchmake me when you’re struggling to tell Seungcheol about how you feel aki: and besides aki: your cousin is cute, but he’s not my type ___ bestie <3: wow ___ bestie <3: you really just did me dirty aki: i’m just saying ___ aki: better tell him before you lose the chance aki: besides your romantic struggles aki: have fun and take lots of pictures! aki: can’t wait to see them when you get back <3 ___ bestie <3: i will!

“Are you gonna stay here with grandma and grandpa while Aunt and Uncle Lee fly out to London?” Seungkwan asks as you set down your phone, refilling his glass of lemonade. You shrugged, still debating on whether or not you wanted to join your parents. “I’m honestly stuck in between… On one hand, I want to see what other countries are like. On the other, I haven’t seen grandma and grandpa in years…”

Your mother who was on her way to give you both a plate of strawberries overheard the conversation and tried her best to help you with your indecisiveness. “___, sweetie,” she began as she set the plate on the wooden porch floor, “you can always travel in the future when you’re all grown up.”

“That sounds like you just want her to stay here in Jeju so you and uncle can enjoy yourselves without her presence,” Seungkwan teased, earning a forehead flick from your mother.

“Well, she’ll be in your care too, Seungkwan. I hope I won’t return to a sassy, diva daughter after leaving her here with you.”

Seungkwan gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest at your mother’s statement. “Aunt Lee, I’m hurt and offended.”

“You’re just further proving my point, Seungkwan.”

“Hey, the sass could end up helping her in the future!”

cheollie: hey, pup cheollie: mom said you and your parents made it to Jeju safely cheollie: how are you feeling? cheollie: did you get motion sickness during the flight? cheollie: did you eat dinner yet? sweet pup: ehh, the motion sickness wasn’t that bad sweet pup: grandma made lemonade :D sweet pup: and yes, i ate dinner! sweet pup: grandpa grilled some mackerel sweet pup: [sent an attachment] sweet pup: and look at how fat the strawberries are :0 sweet pup: [sent an attachment] cheollie: wow cheollie: those look good cheollie: hey, do you think it’s alright if we have a call? sweet pup: like, right now? cheollie: yea sweet pup: oh sweet pup: um, let me head out to the porch cheollie: take your time, pup

As you quietly exited the room you were staying in and out onto the porch, you picked up Seungcheol’s incoming call, feeling the butterflies in your stomach intensify when you heard his deep, “Hey, pup.”

“Hi, Cheollie! Have you had your dinner?” you asked, getting a small hum as a response. “Dad got a deal with a big client so he bought steak for us. Mom also cooked calamari.”

“Wow, it must’ve tasted amazing…”

“Yeah, it was. But, tell me about your dinner, ___. I’m sure you had more than just grilled mackerel.” Seungcheol chuckled, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you mentally cussed at how the older male still has an effect on you despite being 2 hours away and talking to you through a phone.

“Well… Mom made raw crabs and seafood soup!”

“Looks like my little puppy is eating well... That’s good.”

“Is there another reason you wanted to call, Cheollie?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, making you slightly anxious. You hear a faint rustling, thinking he must be lying on his bed as he’s talking to you. A sigh was heard before Seungcheol told you his motive for calling you - and to say it had you on the floor was an understatement.

No, this man had you envisioning a future with him.

“I miss you.”

When you didn't respond, Seungcheol got worried, calling out your name on the other end while you remained stunned at his confession.

“U-uhm, yeah?”

“Did that make you uncomfortable, pup?”

“No, no, it just… It just caught me by surprise…”

You hear Seungcheol chuckle, and more rustling can be heard before he speaks again. “Well, I’m used to having you around me, twenty-four seven, ___. It feels weird when you’re not.”

“I’ll be back in two weeks, Cheollie. You’re being dramatic!”

Maybe he was, the older male thought to himself. But, he pushes that thought to the back of his head as he finally tells you the real reason he’s calling you.

“My parents are thinking of bringing me to Seoul this weekend to check out a few unis… I just thought that I’d let you know since, y’know… I’m graduating soon…”

Your heart sank at the mention of him graduating. You knew it was bound to happen - you even told yourself to not be too sad when he does end up moving out of Daegu for college. But, to hear it coming from Seungcheol himself, the reality hit harder.

“Oh… Well, I’m happy for you!” you tried your best to hide the sadness in your voice, though he still picked it up. “Pup, I’m not going away forever. You’ll still see me when I come back during breaks and when you leave for college, you can come over to Seoul, too!” he assures you, chuckling to himself as he continues, “Maybe our parents might even have us share an apartment so I can watch over you.”

Humming, you stared up into the sky, mesmerised by the stars that were scattered along the blanket of the night sky.

“___?”

“Yea…?”

“Remember what I taught you during our taekwondo sessions?”

“What about it?”

“Don’t forget how to use them, okay? Can’t have my little puppy all defenceless now, can I?”

you bit your lip as Seungcheol went on with his words, how he wished he could stay in Daegu longer so he could spend more time with you. How he wanted to explore the bigger city in Daegu with you (where he implies it being just two of you and without Aki who would often nag at him for having a bad taste in things).

“I’m gonna miss you…” you muttered quietly, not knowing how or what else you were supposed to say. You weren’t going to tell him about your feelings, that’s for sure. but, a part of you wished you could.

Who knows? Maybe you both could end up being something.

“It’s getting late, pup. you must be tired from the flight and settling in. Goodnight, ___.”

“Goodnight, Cheollie…”

When the call ended, you stared at the screen of your phone, a million thoughts racing through your head. You couldn’t put a finger on it, but you had a sinking feeling in your stomach. perhaps you were overthinking the whole situation or something wrong was bound to happen. Whatever it was, you quietly got back into your room and crawled into bed.

Something didn’t feel right.

It was the weekend Seungcheol was due to head to Seoul to have a look at the city and attend a few of the education fairs - and not once, had you gotten a single message from him.

In fact, in the days leading up to that weekend, he had been quiet too. His replies were either short, took too long or there weren’t any replies at all.

It makes you feel uneasy.

“Still no updates from loverboy?” Seungkwan asks, glancing over your shoulder and peeking at your phone, seeing the wall of texts about how the past few days have gone down for you. When you sulkingly shake your head, Seungkwan’s heart aches as he sees his favourite cousin down in the dumps.

“Hey,” he calls out in a gentle tone, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. “Maybe he’s just caught up with those college things. Sooner or later he’s bound to update you, right? Besides, you should be busy having fun here in Jeju!”

Looking at your phone one last time, you shoved it back into your pocket and let Seungkwan drag you to a food street, saying how they added more delicious treats since the last time you visited.

By evening, there was still no news about or from Seungcheol. You’ve tried calling him multiple times, but they all end up going to voicemail. It was starting to affect you and your parents began to take notice, but decided to not question it for fear of triggering an episode. After dinner, you decided to call Aki in an attempt to get some form of comfort.

“I just don’t understand, Aki,” you told her, “I texted him, even called him but I got nothing! What if something bad happened to him?”

“Hey now, you’re probably overthinking things. He might just be sorting those uni documents out - you know how lengthy and taxing they can be. Maybe, he’s just tired and needs some rest!”

“You think so?”

“It’s just a guess, ___. whatever it is, I’m sure it isn’t anything serious.”

Oh, how you wished it really wasn’t anything serious.

When the time came to send your parents off at the airport for their trip to London, you had sent a message to Seungcheol and yet again, you got no response. One thing you came to realise in recent years, was how big of an over-thinker you are. It was something you hated and while your family, Seungcheol and Aki have done whatever they can to help you lessen your overthinking, that still doesn’t stop it from creeping up on you from time to time.

Seungkwan does his best to cheer you up. Bringing you to more food streets, a maze field, and even the seaside to take your mind off of Seungcheol but alas, it was as if Seungcheol had taken over your mind just like the virus in ‘The Last of Us’. One evening as you sat on the sand of the beach, staring off into the horizon, Seungkwan came up and sat next to you.

“I know this might not sound nice, but you can’t let something like Seungcheol not responding to you ruin your trip, ___. Sure, it’s upsetting having someone you’ve known for years and care for go ghost on you, but it’s kind of… pathetic, to let it ruin what could be a fun summer vacation.”

As much as those words hurt you, Seungkwan was right.

You hadn’t seen your family that lived in Jeju for years and now that you can, you’re letting something like your crush not responding to you ruin it. “Then, what should I do, Kwannie…?” you asked, wiping the tears that were starting to stream down your face, “I don’t wanna leave Jeju knowing I didn’t get to spend time with you and our grandparents…”

“How about you try calling him only once? If he doesn’t pick up, we’ll forget about it and move on, okay?”

You give it a thought, minutes passing by before you pick up your phone and dial Seungcheol’s number, placing it near your ear.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialled cannot be reached.”

Seungkwan noticed your body shaking as you redialled the number, your breathing starting to grow shallow.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialled cannot be reached.”

“___?” Seungkwan calls out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. When you began to cry, he pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back as you cried your heart out. “Shhh, it’s okay, ____. it’s okay.”

When you got back to Daegu, your heart dropped at the sight of the empty house next to yours. the entire house looked as if it were fully emptied (which it was) - the potted plants Mrs. Choi had displayed on the gates were nowhere to be seen, the shoes that were neatly arranged on the shoe rack weren’t there anymore, and the Choi’s family car wasn’t parked in its usual place.

“I guess they must’ve moved since Seungcheol is going to start college soon…” your mother tells your father who hums in response as he unloads the luggage from the trunk of the taxi. When she notices the sadness and tears in your eyes, she immediately starts comforting you.”Oh, sweetie… Does it upset you that much?”

“I… I couldn’t even say goodbye to him…” you sobbed out, “I couldn’t even see him one last time before he left…”

“Oh, princess…” your father coos after bidding the taxi driver goodbye, hugging you tight as your mother does the same, “I’m sure he feels sad for not being able to do the same, hmm?”

“Will… Will I… Will I be able to see him again?” you asked through hiccuped sobs, wiping your tears away as more kept spilling. Your mother nods, giving you a pat on the head. “I'm sure you will, honey.”

“He said he’s thinking of joining University of Pledis, right?” your father asked, a small smile on his face when you nod, “Then, you just need to study hard and get in there too! That way, you can finally be reunited with prince charming!”

despite your tears, you still manage to laugh at your dad’s tease. “Dad!”

“Ah-ah, don’t think we didn’t know about your little crush on Seungcheol, ___.” he responded, chuckling as he gave your arm an assuring squeeze.

“Whatever the future has in store, I’m sure the two of you will meet again.”

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

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rainylana · 2 months

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“I’m not always bad.” Part two!

Eddie Munson x female reader

warnings: readers dad has cancer, enemies to lovers, (bullies reader in part one), language, mentions of religion and prayer, depression and anxiety. a lot of angst and fluff.

note: let me know if you want a third part!

Eddie backed off. Whatever class you shared, passing by each other in the hallway or the cafeteria, he backed off. He didn’t bother you, didn’t even look at you. Well, that wasn’t true. He looked, but only when you weren’t aware of it. It had been two weeks since you had broke down in front of him, and as each day passed, he could see you start to slip, start to deteriorate right in front of him. Everyone else was seeing it too.

You weren’t doing as much makeup like you normally did. Instead of putting on a full face, you applied some mascara. Instead of dressing up, you preferred sweats and a hoodie, your hair put up and away so you didn’t have to deal with it.

You weren’t bringing your lunch anymore, surviving off the snacks your friends would make you eat. You didn’t answer questions in class. You weren’t you, anymore. In just two weeks, you’d completely changed, and Eddie, most of all, didn’t like it.

He should talk to you. That’s what he should do, instead of staring at you all day. Over that time, he began to realize his feelings for you were not just hatred.

The day came when he decided he would say something. Say what, he didn’t know, but he needed to speak with you, needed to know that you were…okay, given the circumstances.

•

“And I don’t know if you can hear me, or…even care about what’s happening to my family, but please, God, please, I can’t watch him die. Mama can’t watch him die. Please make him better, I beg of you.” Your hands were folded above your knees, tears on your face and mascara smudged down your cheeks. You were at lovers lake, an isolated side of the park that was overgrown and lonely, much like yourself these days.

There was a singular picnic table, an old, rundown cabin that was falling apart. You’d only been through this area a few times, but the isolation made you feel welcome and at peace, hoping maybe that God could hear your prayers just a little louder here.

“Amen.” You sniffled, wiping your tears and sitting there emotionlessly. You stared at your hands in front of you, too scared to move, too scared to go home. You found yourself always scared, always anxious and alert. Your father was diagnosed with stage four liver cancer and was only given six months to live at best. You didn’t think you could go back to life before you’d been called down to the kitchen for a family meeting.

“Hey.”

You jumped, alert and alarmed at the voice that emerged through the wooded trail. You placed a hand over your heart, calming when you realized who it was.

“Eddie?” You asked, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry,” He held up a hand. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your…” He trailed off. “I walk here a lot.”

That wasn’t true. Eddie didn’t like to walk, or any form of exercise, for that matter. He’d followed you, listened to your entire prayer and cry for help, only to come out when your finished crying. It was hot out today, but that didn’t change his normal attire. Black jeans, ripped at the knees. White t-shirt with a little grease. His hair was extra shaggy due to the humidity. He had a bead of sweat forming above his lip.

“That’s okay.” You said meekly, looking back down at your fingers.

He stood their awkwardly, scratching the back of his sweaty neck. “Look, I can go-”

“No, no.” You waved a hand. “I should go. This isn’t my-”

“Don’t go!” He interrupted you, taking a step and stopping you from getting up off the picnic table. “I uh- sit.” He said to you, doing so himself, sitting across from you.

You weren’t aware just how much of a mess you looked, having forgotten about the tears and makeup mess on your face. He stared at you for a moment, watching you watch the lake. You were blushing—or, were you just red faced from crying?

Eddie gulped, not knowing what to say. A simple how are you would suffice, but he couldn’t seem to get it out.

“Do you need something?” Your eyes panned over to him, sunken and shallow. “I don’t have the homework done if that’s what you’re wanting.”

He hadn’t asked for it in weeks.

“How are you doing?” He bounced his knee, clasping his fingers together in front of him. “With…you know.”

You stared at him, and for a moment, you gave him that same look you did two weeks ago. Bewilderment, shock. But only for a moment, because you simply did not have the energy to put on a show, or care. Eddie noticed.

“I don’t know how to answer that.” You said honestly. “I guess I’m fine.”

“It doesn’t seem that way.” He was looking at you through thick lashes, analyzing your every move, like you were his prey. “Nobody knows yet, do they?”

You tried not to cry. You didn’t want to again, especially not in front of him. You’d already made a fool of yourself once.

“Just family.” You whispered.

You weren’t stupid. You knew Eddie felt bad for you. You’d cracked away at his hard shell and found some emotion inside of him. You just wished it wasn’t at your expense, and you didn’t need his pity.

“Do you need anything?” He found himself asking, quickly looking down to his own hands that he fiddled with, decorated in rings and cat scratches.

This was exactly what you didn’t need. You didn’t want a spotlight on you. You didn’t want him looking at you like you were going to break any second. You didn’t need Eddie Munson as your friend.

“No.” You shook your head. “But I do need to go.” He watched you stand up, and by your shaky hands, he knew you were still very upset. Had he upset you? Should he not have reached out to you.

“Y/n, wait!” He followed after you on the trail.

“What?” You whirled around. “God, Eddie, what is it?” Your eyes were round and wide, alarmed and scared.

He looked taken back, shooing a fly away from his face. “I just- I…I’m really sorry about your dad. I can see that it’s bothering you.” What a dumb thing to say! Of course it’s bothering her!

Don’t take it out on him. He didn’t do this. He didn’t cause it. He’s looking out for you. Him, of all people.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You gave him a smile mixed with a frown. “But I’m fine, I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

You left and he didn’t follow, and when he no longer could see you, he swore he heard the sound of someone sobbing.

•

Three days later and you still hadn’t told your friends. You knew you had to soon. They were concerned. Your teachers knew now, your mom had told the principal, after he had called your parents about your grades. You didn’t get in trouble, they all understood.

You were going in and out of listening to Chrissy talk about prom, your eyes filled with what felt like water and air. You felt like you were drowning. Your eyes burned and felt clouded, your vision was blurry. Your throat burned and you seemed to gasp for air, but you couldn’t. You sat there and listened, drowning inside.

But when you felt something sharp, piercing and full of concern fall upon your face, you looked over and found the hellfire table, their master, staring at you. Eddie was staring at you. You locked eyes with him briefly before turning back to Chrissy.

Two more days passed and everyone knew. You didn’t know how it got out, but you knew it would have sooner or later. You just wished it was later. Everyone was staring at you in class, including Eddie, and by lunch time, the cafeteria went completely silent when you entered. You could take the I’m sorry’s and the I’m here for you’s. You couldn’t take being watched, couldn’t take being talked about and whispered about behind someone else’s back.

You had turned quickly on your heal, flashing an angry emotion across your face that Eddie hadn’t seen in quite some time. You slammed open the doors and walked down the hall with a quick speed. Each step you took, your breathing got heavier and heavier, your head felt lighter and lighter.

You were gulping, choking on your sobs as you rounded the corner and ran down the stairwell.

I’ve gotta get out of here. I’ve got to get out of here.

When you tripped and fell flat on your face, that seemed to be the final straw. You screamed, cursing at the universe, god, whoever, as you stood back up.

“Y/n!” Eddie came running up behind you, panting just as quickly as you were. He widened his eyes at your state. “Hey, hey,” He rushed to you, and you couldn’t help it. You melted into his arms. You let him hold you.

Your limbs gripped his shirt tightly, pulling like he was a rope, and sobbed into his shoulder. You didn’t know why, but in that moment, there wasn’t anyone else you needed more than him.

•

“Thanks for the ride.” You said hoarsely.

It was only one o’clock, but Eddie offered to drive you home. You let him, not able to imagine going back to class after the scene you had made.

“Don’t mention it.” He out the van in park, arm stretched out to the wheel. “You gonna be alright?”

You nodded, tugging at your hoodie, “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You said quietly, excluded of emotion.

“Listen, about what happened at school,” He started, turning in his seat. “Everyone’s just surprised, that’s all. It’s like gossip to them. They’ll forget about it eventually.” He searched your eyes, hoping to make you feel better. “Are you hearing me?”

“Yeah.” You sighed. “I’m just…I don’t know. I might take a break for a few days. Maybe they’ll have dropped it by then.”

He didn’t want to go a day without seeing you. He was becoming more and more concerned, more and more attached, curious. You were becoming the very thing that kept him awake at night. He didn’t know why, but god, were you absolutely beautiful.

“Bye, Eddie,” You reached over and squeezed his knee. “Thanks for everything.”

He watched you walk inside, only seeing a small portion of your home on the inside. He hoped you would dream sweet things that night.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson blurb #part two #eddie munson angst

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ohtobeleah · 6 months

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Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Five:: [Why Do They Call It Love?]

Summary: Jake spends time with his side of the family and your kiddos in Texas. The lies quickly come to an end though when an overworked and overwhelmed nursing student makes the wrong call to your not-so-emergent contact.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Overbearing mothers.

Word Count: 5K

Author Note: The last chapter update before Christmas! EEP! It's one of the moments we've all been waiting for too.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It’s not too late you know—“ Jake watched as his father, the man who had many times throughout his childhood and teenage adolescents put his hands on him, poured himself a drink at the small but decent bar in the room Jake and his groomsmen were getting ready in. “To call this whole thing off that is.”

All Jake could do was press his lips together in a fine line of disappointment, he’d expected this. Hell if anything he was actually pleasantly surprised Rod had been able to hold off for as long as he could.

“I wouldn’t have asked Y/n to marry me if I didn’t want to marry her, Dad.” Jake sighed as he watched his father smirk and swirl his scotch around in the glass he held firmly in his ageing hand.

“You're not afraid of being reductive, are you son?.” Rodney Seresin was a hard man to understand, he showed little empathy towards others or emotion in general. Jake had never even seen the man drink anything beside single malt scotch. “I doubt you have more fear than the average asshole who decides to get hitched.” The almost self deprecating follow up did little to soothe the frown etched almost permanently onto Jake's face whenever he was around his father. “If anything you seem pretty fearless walking headstrong into a marriage that will surely end up on some poor clerks desk just waiting to be stamped as null and void.” Jake couldn’t find the right words to say as he watched Rodney take a swig of the amber liquor that would surely give the bastard liver cancer at some stage. But Jake mustard up the first few that came to mind.

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough to drink pops, you’re projecting your own fears about love onto me, on my wedding day.” Jake had a lot of big emotions about his father. Deep down Jake wanted him to be proud of the man he’d become, especially on his wedding day. But Jake also knew, after some pretty intense therapy sessions, that his father’s approval never really meant anything.

“Oh please, everyone’s scared of love dipshit—you learn that in your twenties, or at least I did anyway.” Jake's father grumbled as he went about pouring himself another drink. Only this time he reached for another glass to pour Jake one too. “It takes a special kind of lunacy to not be afraid of happiness and my boy do you fit the bill.”

“That’s so dumb—“ Jake scoffed, he wasn’t about to stand here and listen to a cranky old man project his beliefs, he’d done that all throughout his childhood whenever his father made comments about his mother only being good for two things. Those two things eventually evolved into three once Jake was old enough for the ‘birds and the bees’ talk.

“No you’re dumb and that’s exactly why you aren’t afraid of happiness.” Rodney huffed. “The smarter you are the more you know, happiness is a fucking trap that can’t and won’t ever last forever.”

“That woman out there is about to be my wife—“ Jake argued as he tried to contain his rage. The vein in his neck throbbed as he clenched his jaw and balled his fist to maintain his control. This guy wasn’t worth it, he never had been and never would be and the last thing Jake ever wanted was to be any way, shape, or form like his father. “You don’t get to tell me I won’t be happy marrying the woman I love, who I’ve been in love with since the first time I saw her. The woman, who mind you, is one of the most intelligent people I know, loves me for me! Without the goddamn last name or family values, she loves me for me which is something that you wouldn’t understand.” Jake would never forget this, that on his wedding day or all days his father felt it was necessary to get up on his soap box. “You’re unbelievable—“

“You really think that some aspiring author who’s biggest accomplishment is working a full time position at the local bookstore is the love of your life?” Rodney asked with enough conviction in his tone that Jake thought for a moment it was a genuine question—but as always it was used to mask a dig at your chosen profession. The real question was if Jake loved you for you, the answer would always be wholeheartedly.

“I’ve experienced more love knowing Y/n these last few years than you ever had with Ma and as much as I hate that for her I’m glad she doesn’t give two shits about you.” Jake argued, the anger had materialised across his face in a deep shade of red.

“Jacob, even if you consider this girl to be the love of your life It’s still going to end.” Jake stepped a little further forward to close some distance between himself and his father. The older man reached out to extend the amber liquid to his only son. The disappointment, the mistake. Jake reluctantly accepted the vessel. “It's inevitable, whether it be by the slow pull of disease, or the shock of loose footing on a hiking trail.” Rodney grumbled on as he eyed his son down trying to make a point that this day for Jake would eventually be as meaningless as his existence. “Or perhaps in your case it’ll be the corrosion of two different personalities that reshape each other until they’re no longer compatible.”

“You’re just a cranky old bastard aren’t you?” Jake couldn’t think of anything else to say to his father as his groomsmen filed back into the room all laughing and ready to lead Jake out to the ceremony.

“Maybe, but I’m a bastard with a point—happiness always ends.” Rodney smirked. “Think about it, the best case scenario, son, is that you both die at the same time.” Jake felt like he couldn’t breathe as his best man slapped his hands on his suited up shoulders. They’d just gotten back from their own first look with you. Some still had tears in their eyes. You were just that beautiful.

“You ready man? It’s time.” Jake looked down at the drink in his hand his father had poured him before he took the entirety of the amber liquid he hoped one day would be the reason for his father’s demise in his mouth. The eye contact between father and son never broke as Jake swallowed without a fuss.

“As I’ll ever be.”

***~***~***~***~***~

The Oncology ward was never your favourite place, hell it was never a place you thought you’d have to frequent, but the copious amounts of Christmas decorations that lined the halls and boarded the nurses station, put a smile to your weary face. Those decorations hadn't been there the last time you met with your oncologist to discuss your treatment plan. That meeting had felt like a lifetime go, but in reality it was only a mere few weeks.

“Okay so this is your room.” One of the nurses that had helped admit you as a patient to Rhode Island Hospital oncology ward smiled behind you as you and your mum carried your bags into the room. “Try to make yourself at home, we find that the more homely people make their room the easier the stay is.”

She was young, fresh out of college and still had those brown baby eyes that looked like they just wanted to save every person she came into contact with. High hopes that would soon come to realise that in life you couldn’t save everyone. Lydia was her name, or so the badge credentials that hung from her scrub top told you.

“Will do.” You smiled, nothing would make this easier. Nothing about this entire situation was or would be easy.

Lydia left you and your mother alone to settle your things, knowing you were about to spend a your holidays couped up in a hospital room made your heart ache for the holiday memories where your children were opening presents under the tree as you and Jake drank coffee spiked with Baileys at six am in the afternoon.

The ever looming crisis of impending death always made you wonder if last Christmas would be your last Christmas with your little family. It made you wonder if you’d ever get to spend a holiday like this with them again. Lucy and Lennox would turn seven in February, Samuel would be three in August, it dawned on you as you placed your toiletries in the bathroom, would you get to see your children grow? Watch them fall in love for the first time, learn new skills, develop into adults, get married, graduate. All the things you wanted to see as a mother.

“Where do you want me to put these?” Your mother called out as you turned around to see her holding up a string of multicoloured Christmas lights. You frowned at the woman who had been there for you through thick and thin with her childlike mannerisms and christmas cheer.

“Mum, why do you have Christmas lights?” You sighed softly like you were trying to be brave and take all of this on the chin.

“I thought that the least I could do would be to help decorate your room, you are in here over the holidays afterall, why not spend some time decorating while you can?” She beamed as she took you under her arm and wrapped her arm around your shoulders. “Brought you a little Christmas tree too.”

“You didn’t have to do that—“ You appreciated the festive atmosphere though and knew over the coming days that you’d appreciate the warmth even more. Right now though all you wanted to do was sleep.

“I know, but you’re my baby—“ She whispered back softly as you both looked around the blank space, the sterile environment that was about to be your home for the next three weeks at the minimum. “So I reckon we put them all the way around the room.”

“It’s gonna look like the first season of stranger things in here.” You chuckled which quickly turned into a throaty cough your mother frowned in worry over, but you reassured her you were fine once you caught your breath. “I’m fine, promise—“ The world felt off for a split second. Like tunnel vision was threatening to take you hostage out of nowhere–a blackening darkness loomed behind your eyes as spotted fragments came and left in the space of a few seconds. “Woah, that was a little odd.”

“Sweetheart?” Your mothers eyes nearly popped out of her head when she realised what was happening. “Do you feel okay?” It was a hard question to answer, it always had been. But right now it was harder than ever.

“I’m a little light headed, why?” It wasn’t anything unusual, but with the way your mum was staring at you like you’d just grown another head from your shoulder made you think it was something more serious. “Mum?” Something was off as you stood trying to figure out what was going on, your body felt weird, like a tingling sensation had tickled its way across your skin.

“The left side of your face is drooping.” Your mother explained as she put the lights down on your bed. “Your cheek is–”

“What?” You asked nearly in disbelief at her reaction to face slightly drooping opposed to your right. “What are you even talking about?”

“I’m getting the nurse, I think somethings wrong, I think you're having a stroke.” This couldn’t be happening, what more could life throw at you? First a breast cancer diagnosis and now a fucking stroke? “Stay here.”

“I’m literally admitted! Where do you think I’m going to go!” Your voice followed your mother out towards the nurses station as you tried to take a few steps, that’s when you realised though that the entire left side of your body had gone numb and tingly. “Oh god—“ Panic soon set in as you took a seat on your hospital bed. Tears flooded your eyes as an immense wave of anger and despair erupted out of your soul.

This wasn’t fair. None of it was.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Dad!! Push me higher!” Lenny laughed as Jake pushed him on the swing set in the backyard of his family’s home.

“Any higher and you’ll do a loop around man.” Jake chuckled but he obliged by his son's wishes and gave him a little more of a chesty send off when the swing carrying his son came back his way.

More of the Seresins spending Christmas and new years at home had since arrived and the festivities were well and truly underway. Jake watched as the sun set below the rolling hills along the horizon as his mothers festoon lights illuminated the back deck. They reminded him of Penny’s, the ones that always made the Hard Deck balcony seem so much brighter.

“When mum told me Y/n wasn’t coming this year I thought she was lying.” Jasmine called out as she made her way across the backyard to where Jake stood playing with his two boys. Sammy sat by his leg fixated on the tonka truck Jake swore was gonna leave the biggest bruise on his shin if the kid kept ramming it into him. “What’s going on with you two?”

“You know—“ Jake groaned, he was just about over the question as much as you were. Everyone knew, it wasn’t a secret Jake kept close to his chest. He knew he fucked his marriage up, he knew he was the problem. But it didn’t help when everyone asked what was going on between the pair of you over and over and over again.

It was like opening up an old wound over and over again. Watching the infection spread, watching the tissue decay and slapping a gauze on it hoping that it’ll heal in time.

But as you pointed out, time didn’t always heal old wounds and you were still very much healing from the damage Jake had caused when he lost focus and sight of the things that mattered most to him.

He didn’t realise you were gone until you had locked the door behind you and taken the key.

“I just thought it was a rough patch. I didn't think you guys wouldn’t spend Christmas together.” Jasmine Seresin was the youngest daughter of all the Seresin Siblings and Jake's most fearsome protector. She was always in his corner ready to go into bat for him just as much as Jake was for her. “What’s she doing anyway?” Jake assumed it was because of their close age gap, Jasmine always said it was because Jake couldn't throw a solid punch to save himself.

“Uh she’s going on a trip to Banff—“ Jake continued to push Lenny on the swing set his uncle had built over thirty years ago. It was a ridiculous thing with its over the top attachments and its stainless steel finishing. The slide used to burn the crap out of your ass if you went down the thing in the midsummer Texas heat. But it was still good as it was the first day Jake and his sisters took it for its very first spin. Now he was a dad, pushing his son on that same damn swing he cried on when he scuffed his knee playing tag. “Some friend's trip she was invited on.” Jake wished he knew more but he never wanted to pry. You had a private life now he wasn't privy to. “She hasn’t really told me much about it and I didnt wanna ask in case she thought I was being controlling.”

“Oh.” Jasmine had to stop herself from saying what she was thinking straight off the top of her head, but Jake knew her better than that. He could practically see the cogs in her brain twisting and turning and working together to formulate her next opinion.

“Say it—“ Jake encouraged. “Go on, I know you want to.”

“It’s just Banff can be awfully romantic this time of year and all.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to tell my ex husband about a new fling that’s taking me to Banff for Christmas either.”

“I wonder how the conversation will go when she tells that guys she fucked said ex husband the night before she flew out then.” Jake smirked as he pushed his son a little higher to hear his screams of joy as Jasmine cupped her hand over her wide open mouth. “I don’t think there’s a guy.”

“Holy shit you two are so getting back together.”

“If mum had it her way I’d be divorced six ways till Sunday and have an open day down at the church for potential candidates she approves of.” Jake couldn’t have rolled his eyes any harder as Jasmine groaned and rubbed her temples.

“You’re her baby boy Jake, she’s obsessed with you—god she never did like Y/n all that much did she?”

“Nah—and I honestly think this whole separation has just made her delusional self more delusional.”

“I don’t want you two losing sight of the love you have for each other because of a rough patch.” Jasmine nearly warned as she bumped Jake's hip with her own. “You're too pig-headed sometimes.”

“Funny, I’ve got a wingwoman who says the same damn thing.”

“Sounds like my kinda gal.” Jake had to scoff at the idea that immediately popped into his mind. Phoenix was very much his sister's type and he knew that.

“You tell mum about Racheal yet?” What Janeen Seresin didn’t know about her youngest daughter was that she and her husband Eric, who stood grilling away with Jake's father, had recently decided that monogamy just wasn’t their thing. Racheal had started off as a babysitter for the couple's two kids, ten year old Stacey and eight year old Lewis. When Jake found out that Jasmine was bisexual he didn’t blink and eye, but he did spit his beer all over Rooster when she told him she and Eric where both happily fucking the nanny. Sometimes together.

“Are you fucking kidding me? She’s already on the verge of an eruption over one of her kids on the brink of no fault divorce, could you imagine what would happen if I came out at the family Christmas party?” Jake just chuckled and shook his head pretending like he didn’t already know it would end in disaster. “I’d meet our ancestors Jake, all the way back to pre colonial times my guy, you’re my scapegoat right now.”

“Happy to be of assistance.” Jake just laughed at his sister's chaos. He watched with a smile half the size of his face as she turned to walk off. Not before she turned around and gave the most obnoxious salute she could have.

“Appropriate your service, Lieutenant.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“Your daughter’s going under for a procedure we call a thrombectomy to remove the suspected blood clot from inside her artery.” Your mother sat in the waiting area of the emergency surgery floor she’d been escorted to once you had been whisked away. “Luckily for her we caught this so early she should have practically no defecates depending on how the surgery goes.”

First your separation, then your breast cancer diagnosis and now a stroke, what more could you possibly have to deal with.

“What caused it? She's been rather sick the last few days, throwing up, not sleeping, eating.” Your mother explained to the resident who had come out to update her on your status. “She's already dealing with so much.”

“Unfortunately this isn't uncommon in young woman who go through severe bouts of stress, i've read your daughter's file and its safe to say that the clot was probably due to her current oral chemo, plus a combination of high stress from the diagnosis, her blood pressure and her bodies inability to sustain proper nutrients, it's a perfect storm for these sorts of things.” It made sense but the explanation didn't make the outcome of the situation you were facing any easier for your mother to handle. “Rest assured your daughter is in really good hands and the fact she was already inside the hospital when the stroke started to manifest itself means her chances of a full recovery are rather high.”

“But now she’ll just live long enough to slowly deteriorate and be taken by the cancer, won't she?” Your mother wouldn't ever admit it to you, but the phone call where you told her that you had been diagnosed with Stage three A, triple positive grade three invasive doctoral carcinoma, was one of the worst days of her life. The first being the day your father and the love of her life died far too young far too quickly. “My daughter is strong, Doctor Phillips, but she's just one woman, how much is she expected to be dealt before she gives up.”

Doctor Phillips, the resident who had been tasked with updating your mother, just flashed her a look of sympathy laced in professionalism that truly showed a testament to her ability to not let her own feelings get in the way of her patients and their families.

“Let's take this one step at a time, Miss O’riley.” She added politely before saying goodbye and left your mother to sit in silence watching the clock tick, although she didn't take her eyes off the clock on the wall for a mere second, time still felt like it stood still while you were on that operating table.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

The day had been long, overdrawn, and full of mindless family drama over dinner on the back deck the first night Jake and the kids were in Texas. One night down only.. “Oh God–” Jake groaned as he finally let his head rest on the pillow and realised he would be here for a full two weeks before he could escape the family he never wanted to be anything alike.

The kids had gone down relatively easy with little to no tears, Lucy was a little upset that you never called like you said you would and Jake was slightly concerned that you never returned his calls or texts. However he also understood you didn't owe him a damn thing and for all he knew, you were still up in the air, on your way to the very beginning of what he hoped would be a fantastic kid tree trip. You did after all deserve some time away.

Jake had thought quickly on his feet before the tears could start though, he told Lucy that you had said you'd call in the morning because you knew that you'd keep her up far too long. He just hoped as his own head hit the pillow that you would in fact call in the morning.

Ten o'clock seemed rather early to be heading off to bed but Jake needed to reset his mind in order to be able to handle his family for two more weeks. He needed at least a solid eight hours before his sister Abigail joined in on the festivities for tomorrow with her own family. Jake was the only Seresin sibling this year without his partner present and god did he feel like the black sheep.

What really cemented that fact he was the family disappointment was when his father had handed him a beer and said the only thing he’d spoken to Jake the entire time he’d been home. A quick, monotone “I told you so son, happiness never lasts.”

His childhood bedroom hadn’t changed a single bit. As Jake laid in the twin bed he lost his virginity in, he listened to the baby monitor that kept a watchful eye on his three kids just down the hall. Little Sammy was sound asleep, Lucy and Lenny thought they were in the clear but they were up talking about whatever it is young twins talk about late at night while they’re visiting their grandparents place.

Jake wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep but the sound of his phone going off on the small bedside table surely woke him up in enough of a frazzled state to know it had been a few hours, long enough for his body to truly settle into a deep state of rest.

“Fuck–” Jake growled as he reached up for his phone. “The fuck is–who the hell is–” Jake grumbled as he sat up in the twin bed and tried to remember where he knew that area code from as the unknown number illuminated his phonescreen. “Hello?” It was a last minute decision to answer once Jake had actually seen the time, two thirty in the morning to be exact.

“Hi, would I be speaking to Mr. Seresin?” Lydia asked politely on the other end of the line, she sat at the nurses station on the ass end of her double shift. A double shift she wasn't supposed to be working. She couldn't feel her feet with how badly they were throbbing, her eyelids were far too heavy to keep up and she hadn’t eaten since noon yesterday, but her patients came first. Lydia Hudson was determined to be the best nurse she could be and that included updating your emergency contact on your post-op recovery.

“This is he.” Jake replied rather roughly into the phone as he held it to his ear in the darkness of his childhood bedroom. His voice was an octave deeper than it usually was with how tired he was.

“Hi Jake, this is Lydia calling from Rhode Island Hospital.” It took Jake's brain a moment to catch up to his heart as the women on the other end of the line spoke, but it caught up soon enough. “I'm just calling to let you know how your wife went in her emergent surgery, it seems as though we were able to retrieve the clot before it could cause any irreparable deficits.” Jake frowned as he ran his hand over his face, he wasn't sure what the hell he was listening to but his heart was hammering inside his chest. “There doesn't seem to be any critical deficits at the moment, she's on some pretty intense pain medication but we’re hoping that it won't interfere with her upcoming Mastectomy and chemotherapy sessions.”

“Im–I'm sorry, do you have the wrong number?” Jake questioned. “You said my wife?”

“Y/n Seresin?, I’m so sorry if no one had updated you sooner, but while she was setting up her room in oncology she suffered a moderate stroke we think was brought on by the–”

“Oncology meaning?” Jake was beginning to break out in a sweat as his heart raced. No, no you were supposed to be on a plane to Banff, you should have been in Calgary by now.

“The cancer ward–?” Lydia replied. “Mr. Seresin you do know your wife was admitted for stage three A, triple positive grade three invasive doctoral carcinoma, right?” Lydia frowned as she read over your notes again trying to understand why the man she had just called, your husband, didn’t seem to know a damn thing about your situation. “She was just put through admission today when she–” Lydia paused when she saw it, your actual emergency contact. It wasn’t Jake Seresin who was listed as your emergency contact on your paperwork, but your mother who was currently sitting at your bedside watching your chest move up and down post your operation. “Oh my god–”

“Y/n—“ Jake couldn’t make sense of what he’d just been told. “Has cancer? My wife Y/n has cancer?” Jake had to say it out loud for the realisation to kick in. “She has cancer? My wife had a stroke? What the hell is–”

“Mr. Seresin I’m so unbelievably sorry but I can’t share any more details with you under HIPAA, I’ve just realised you weren’t listed as your wife’s emergency contact.”

“She has cancer? My Y/n has cancer?” The vomiting, the flu that Lucy said you had had for weeks now, how tired you looked, it all made sense. “Oh god—“ Jake felt the tears spilling down his cheeks as he jumped out of his childhood bed and hit the light switch. “No, oh god no.” He felt like he was going to throw up as he rummaged through his duffle for a clean shirt and shorts. “How long has she known?” The call, the need for Jake to take the kids, the way you wouldn't even give him a chance to right his wrongs, divorce…. “How long has she known for?”

“I’m so sorry Jake, I can’t share any more details with you.” Lydia apologised before she began to panic and hung up the phone, leaving Jake in his newest existential crisis.

Jake had to go, he had to get back to you, why the fuck would you not tell him this? How long have you known? How long did you have left even? What was your prognosis? Jake had so many questions that were left unanswered as he changed and grabbed his wallet. He was booking the next available flight back to Rhode Island as he shoved all his stuff back into his duffel bag.

The kids would have to stay—oh god the kids. Your kids. No. No this wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be. Jake felt his heart racing as he silently cried in the middle of his childhood bedroom. His hand came to cover his mouth, minimising his cries to a silent but painful whale. He couldn’t lose you like this. What did that nurse mean when she said you had a stroke?

But out of everything Jake had been told he knew one thing for sure as he tried to pull himself together off the floor and get back to you as soon as he could.

That there never had been a Banff trip planned.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional l @jessicab1991 91 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove ve @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus

#was it over? // jake seresin #tw: cancer #tw: stroke #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin fic #top gun fanfic #maverick top gun

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writing-fanics · 10 months

Text

my little star

Astarion x Reader

a/n: reader is gender neutral but mother/father is used I haven’t played the game and I don’t know much about DND first time I’ve ever written for Astarion.

Dhampir: Offspring of a vampire and a human

The stage was set with a fearless little girl standing before a terrifying beast. In her hand, she held a wooden stick, which was her only defense. Her eyes showed the determination within her. She lifted her chin as she glared at the creature and with all her might, she shouted, "Back, you foul beast!" The little girl pointed her stick at the creature, which let out a croak. The sound caught her off guard, causing her to jump slightly and lower the makeshift shield made of a piece of broken bark that she had been using for protection.

The creature was revealed to be a tiny frog. "I shall defeat you, beast!" she exclaimed, raising her weapon to attack. She let out a warrior's yell and was about to attack the frog when a voice interrupted her. "My little star, what on earth are you doing?" She turned around and smiled, dropping the stick. Running towards the figure with open arms, she exclaimed, "Daddy!" He scooped her up as she leaped into his arms.

“Your mother/father and I have been looking everywhere for you, little star.” Astarion said, and she frowned looking down.

She pouted and fiddled with her fingers. "I just wanted to go on an adventure, like the ones you and Mom/Dad used to have," she said sheepishly. He looked down and smiled.

Astarion and Tav had been in a loving relationship for years, and after settling down, they finally tied the knot. Their union was blessed with the birth of their daughter, Estel, who brought immense joy and happiness into their lives. Astarion had never really imagined himself having children, even though he was married to Tav. But when he saw their precious little bundle of joy, with her silvery white curls and a tiny nose, he was overwhelmed with emotion, and fell in love with Tav all over again. The sight of them holding their baby in their arms was a beautiful moment that he would cherish forever.

As he spoke to Estel, he reminisced about the adventures he had shared with Tav, his beloved. He often regaled his little one with tales of their perilous journey to eliminate the worms in their heads. He spoke of how his heart had been unexpectedly captured by Tav, despite his initial reluctance to fall in love. He also recounted how, despite his being a vampire spawn sanguine monster, Tav and their companions had stayed by his side and loved him unconditionally.d by his side and loved him anyway.

As she smiled at him, Astarion recounted tales of their adventures with the group, carefully editing out any inappropriate details for his daughter. She sat comfortably on his lap, awed by the beauty of nature and completely engrossed in her father's stories. In that moment, the frog that had once caught her attention was no longer on her mind, and Astarion had forgotten all about his initial search for his daughter to bring her back home for dinner.

Estel listened to her father telling the story to her as she did, she picked the flowers beside them in the field of flowers. Weaving them together to make a flower crown, Shadowheart showed her how to make it.

"What're you making little star?" Astarion asked curiously looking down at his daughter. She looked up at him and grinned revealing her abnormally sharp canine teeth. "It's a flower crown I made it for you." She said to him. He stared at the floral crown admiring it normally he wouldn't wear such a thing. But he couldn't help but smile while looking at it.

"Why? It seems you've inherited my sense for impeccable fashion." He said to Estel with a smile on his face. She smiled, watching as he placed it on his head. "How do I look?" He asked playfully puckering his lips. She giggled, "Amazing!" She exclaimed and he chuckled softly as he bopped his daughter on the nose. Her stomach grumbled and she looked up at her father, "Daddy?" She mumbled, and he looked down at her.

His smile faltered into that of nervousness as he remembered the reason he came out looking for his daughter, "It might've slipped my mind that your mother sent me out to fetch you, to let you know that dinner is done." He said nervously. "Oooh, your in trouble." She teased giggling, and he looked down at her.

"I'm not the only one that's in trouble." He grinned looking down at his daughter, "You aren't supposed to be this far from home." He continued and she glared at him, "Well, mommy told you to watch me." She said, grinning folding her arms across her chest. Smiling slyly, he scoffed rolling his eyes.

"And you two are supposed to be at home!" Tav shouted, appearing down the path from them. Your arms folded across your chest as you glared at your husband and child, "Mommy!" Estel exclaimed, running towards you and you wrapped your arms around her after scooping her up. Glancing over at Astarion giving him the look, 'We'll talk later'

#astarion x reader #astarion x Tav #astarion x you #astarion x y/n #astarion #baldurs gate iii #baldurs gate reader insert #baldurs gate astarion #reader insert

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

Text

good girl ~ gerard way

word count: 2990

request?: yes!

“okayokayokay, hear me out, dads best friend! gerard x reader. you’re franks kid, going on tour with them, and yeah, that’s kinda all i have. current time, with a hint of thigh riding, smut with praise, kinda fluffy afterwards. you should look it up but gerard wore shorts on stage last night and holy shit, i’m dead. thank you so fuckin much!”

description: they said nothing was going to happen while she was on tour with them, that nothing could happen while she was on tour with them, but then he came out in those damn shorts

pairing: gerard way x female!iero!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (thigh riding, praise kink, unprotected sex), age gap (reader is in their 20s, gerard is 45), rpf (if you don’t like it, don’t read)

masterlist (one, two, three)

He knew what he was doing. There’s no way he didn’t. He knew I was joining them today, and he just so happened to come out in a pair of hot shorts showing off those thighs that I had gotten off on so many times before? After I told him we couldn’t do this while we were with my dad? Yeah, this was definitely on purpose.

“Are you listening to me, Squirt?” dad asked, nudging me out of my thoughts.

Shit, how long have I been staring? Has dad noticed?

“Yeah,” I lied.

“What did I say?”

“You called me Squirt.”

Dad chuckled and rolled his eyes. I smiled and tried not to look over at Gerard. He was talking to Mikey and their stage manager, turned side on from me. I glanced over for a split second, just in time to see he was already looking at me. He smirked and winked at me. My face grew hot and I quickly looked away.

We knew this was wrong. At least, I think we did. The first time it happened we said it was wrong. Gerard was dad’s friend, his bandmate. I was a little less than half his age. He had a kid, a kid I had babysat numerous times when I was a teenager. Everything about the situation was wrong. Dad would freak out if he knew, the public probably would, too. We swore the first time would be the only time.

But then he came over one night during the summer for dinner. I was wearing a sundress, he was in shorts and a tank top. Next thing I knew, he had me bent over the bathroom sink with my dress pushed up around my hips.

“One time” turned into “many times” and, eventually, we stopped saying that it was wrong out loud. But we did agree we wouldn’t be doing this while dad was around. No one could ever know, but especially not dad. Gerard didn’t want to put his friendship with dad or the band in jeopardy. when I agreed to go on tour with the band for a while, we had an agreement that there would be no funny business.

I guess that agreement wasn’t going to last long.

“Alright everyone, places in ten minutes,” the stage manager announced before leaving the room.

“Everyone, circle,” Mikey announced. The band moved together, putting their arms around each other and bowing their heads. Mikey looked over at me and nodded his head. “Come on, little Iero, you too.”

“This is a band ritual, though,” I said.

“You’re an honorary member for now,” dad said. “No arguing. Come on.”

He extended an arm to me. It felt like some cruel trick of fate that the one he had unconnected from, leaving a space for me to get between, was Gerard. I took a deep breath and moved in between them. Dad put his hand around my shoulder, but Gerard put his hand on my lower back. I prayed no one noticed my body stiffen as they started their usual pre-show speech.

When everyone pulled away to take their places, Gerard leaned into my ear to whisper, “Meet me at my room after the show.”

I felt a tingle run down my spine and between my legs.

I tried to focus only on the concert as I watched the band perform, but it was hard to keep my mind from wandering when Gerard was there, in those goddamn shorts, and now he was getting all hot and sweaty while performing. Near the end of the show, his long hair was was slick with sweat and sticking to his forehead. It felt like the show was dragging on for hours and it would never end. I wasn’t sure how I was going to stop myself from jumping his bones the second he walked off the stage.

The after show adrenaline backstage was just as hard to get through. The guys were all jittering withing adrenaline and excitement. I didn’t want to break up their fun, or to seem suspicious, but I was itching to get back to the hotel so I could go to Gerard’s room. I was standing with my thighs clenched together, feeling hot and sweaty as if I were the one who just performed. I was slightly embarrassed by how desperate I was feeling, but only slightly.

The drive back to the hotel was short. We all said goodnight to one another before heading to our respective hotel rooms. I listened to make sure I heard all three doors close, meaning dad, Mikey, and Ray wouldn’t see anything, before making a beeline for Gerard’s room. He was waiting for me at the door, immediately taking me into his arms and kissing me with a combination of passion and aggression. He fumbled with the room key while still kissing me, but finally managed to swipe it and open the door. He pulled me into the room and shoved me against the door once it shut again.

“I can’t believe you,” I muttered against his lips. “We said none of this while on tour.”

“I can’t help it,” he said. “I’m so addicted to you. I don’t think I can give you up.”

Gerard pressed his lips against mine again before I could say anything. His hands slipped under my shirt and pressed against my skin. I already felt hot, but his touch made me feel like I was on fire. I was gripping at his shirt, too, still damp from the sweat, when my fingers brushed over the waistband of his shorts.

“These fucking shorts,” I groaned between kisses.

Gerard smirked. “You like them, huh?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t do this on purpose. You knew how these shorts were going to make me feel.”

He pulled away, that damn smirk still on his face. He took my hand and pulled me further into the room. He sat down on the edge of the bed, still holding my hand in his. He was looking up at me with lust filled eyes, the look alone causing a new puddle to form in my panties.

“Take your pants off,” he told me. I did as he said, unbuttoning my jeans and letting them fall to the floor. I stepped out of them and kicked them aside. “Good girl.”

I almost whimpered. God, he knew what praise did to me.

“Now,” he patted on thigh, “climb on up here, princess.”

I got onto his lap, placing my legs on either side of his thigh so I was straddling it. He placed his hands on my hips and lowered me so my clothes core was directly on his thigh. I let out a whimper at the friction. I had been longing for any sort of contact for so long that just the faint brush of my panties against my clit sent tingles through my body and caused a louder moan to slip past my lips.

“Shh,” Gerard said. “We don’t want anyone to hear you, do we?”

I shook my head, biting my lip to hold in any other involuntary noises.

“Good girl,” he said again. He kissed me gently before saying, “Now, get off on my thigh like a good girl.”

I started moving my hips, letting the friction grow. Any noises I made came out muffled against my lips. If I was in a different state of mind, I’d probably feel a little pathetic in the situation - mewling on Gerard’s lap in desperation to get myself off. We weren’t even having sex yet and I was already a mess. But I only had one thing on my mind, one endgame to work towards.

I put my arms around his neck to ground myself as I continued to grind. His hands were still resting on my waist, but he wasn’t controlling my movements. He was letting me go at my own pace. He was watching me so intently, like I was the most beautiful art he had ever seen.

“You’re doing so good, babe,” he breathed. “You look so beautiful when you’re coming undone like that.”

I tried to say something in return, but it just came out as incoherent babbles. Gerard chuckled and pulled me in for another kiss. His tongue poked at my bottom lip, asking for permission to enter. I parted my lips and let his tongue explore my mouth. He swallowed my moans, which had become harder to control. I was nearing my climax quicker than I had anticipated. I wasn’t ready for it yet. I wanted this to go on for longer.

But Gerard knew I was close. His hands were now gripping my hips and moving me a little bit faster. Against my lips, he mumbled, “I want you to cum on my lap, pretty girl. Please cum on my lap.”

He forcefully kissed my lips as a scream of pleasure ripped through my throat without warning. My body trembled as my orgasm washed over me. How he made me feel so good with just his thigh, I would never know. He made me feel better than any man my age ever could.

I started to come down from my high as I realized I was being moved. Gerard was lifting me from his lap and gently placing me on the bed. He stood at the end and quickly removed his clothes. I did the same, ridding myself of my panties, shirt, and bra. We were both completely naked, just looking at one another. He always somehow made me feel both confident and insecure under his gaze. He looked at me with such hunger in his eyes that I wanted to let him have me however he wanted, but also I wanted to cover myself up. I always felt so many conflicting things when we were together.

He climbed onto the bed, hovering over me. He lowered himself so his body was flush against mine, engulfing me with his heat. He kissed me again, feverishly. I could feel his dick, hard and throbbing, against my inner thigh, mere inches from where I wanted him most. My hips bucked involuntarily. His tip grazed my entrance, causing the two of us to moan together.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, running his dick between my folds. “You want this inside of you, good girl?”

“P-Please,” I begged. “Please, I need you inside of me. Need it so bad, need you so bad.”

“You sound so pretty when you beg.” He reached between us and lined himself up with my entrance. “Ask me one more time.”

“Please, Gerard. Please fuck me.”

With one thrust, he filled me completely. I gasped at the sensation, which was followed by another moan. He covered my mouth with his hand, suppressing the moan before it fully erupted out of me. He slowly pulled out of me until it was just the tip inside of me, then pushed all the way back in. I could feel every inch of him slowly pulling out and filling me up, dragging along my walls and pushing against my g-spot with every thrust inwards. The sore feeling I had from my recent orgasm quickly melted away into pleasure again.

Gerard buried his head in the crook of my neck, leaving kisses along my neck and shoulder between attempts to muffle his own groans and moans. My moans and whimpers came out muffled against his hand. He started to pick up the pace with his thrusts. With his body against mine, his pelvic bone was rubbing against my clit with every thrust. The combined stimulation of him rubbing against my clit and his dick abusing my g-spot had my lower stomach tightening again in no time. I had no way of telling him this time around that I was getting close, so I just had to let my orgasm wash over me. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as my body began to tremble again, screams of pleasure muffled, but just barely, against his hand.

He was whispering praises into my ear but I felt so far off that I could barley hear them. The only thing keeping me grounded and present was the feeling of my nails digging into his skin and his desperate thrusts, now becoming a little sloppier. It wasn’t long until I could feel him spilling inside of me. He bit down on my shoulder to try and keep himself quiet, undoubtably also leaving marks there. I barley cared at the time, but at least he left them in a spot that would be easy to cover.

We both laid there, tangled up in one another for some time. I was still feeling lightheaded, chasing that wonderful post-climax feeling and slowly coming down from it. If I didn’t have to move at all for the rest of time, I would’ve been content. I could’ve laid there with him for so long if that were possible.

When he got up and pulled himself out of me, I felt empty. There’s always a feeling of slight disappointment after sex that it couldn’t go on for longer, or that you had to separate from one another at all. Gerard took a moment to catch his breath before standing from the bed.

“I have to shower,” he said. “Do you wanna come with?”

I happily agreed. I followed him into the bathroom and waited as he started up the shower. Within seconds the mirror was steamed over from the hot water. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle a hot shower, but the minute the hot water touched my skin I felt like I was in paradise. Taking a shower where the water was anything cooler than scolding hot was definitely not an option for me. I let Gerard use the hotel provided shampoo and body wash first, seeing as he was the one who had performed an entire show before we had sex. I stood back as he washed himself, taking in the sight of his body covered in suds and water.

“We’re really bad at this,” I blurted without thinking.

He turned to look at me. “What do you mean?”

“We keep saying we’re going to stop, and then we never do.”

He sighed and tilted his head back to rinse the shampoo from his hair. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“What we’re doing isn’t right.”

“It feels right.”

I felt a smile tugging at my lips. Yeah, it definitely felt right. But morally it wasn’t right. Was it?

“Do you think, if the circumstances were different, that we’d be a normal couple?” Gerard asked as he stepped back, allowing me to let the water run over me.

“What do you mean?” I asked. I definitely noticed his use of the word “couple”, but decided not to mention it just yet. I hadn’t ever thought of us in that way, in a “relationship” type of way. Not that I didn’t want to. I know Gerard would be a perfect boyfriend, probably the best one I could ever ask for, but I didn’t think he saw what we were doing in that way. It had just been sex. There were some moments that it felt like more than that, but for the most part I knew that’s all it was and all it likely would ever be.

“Like...if you weren’t my best friend’s kid, do you think we would ever actually...be able to explore what we have? To actually go out together on dates and be able to hold hands in public and be together. Not to sneak around behind closed doors and hope no one notices the brief glances we have when we’re in public?”

I was shocked. I didn’t think Gerard had thought of what we were doing in that way. It had never been brought up before, so I just assumed we were on the same page in terms of this being a “no strings attached” type of deal.

“I think...I think we would,” I admitted. “Granted, it might be a little controversial with the age difference.”

“It would be, but we’re both adults regardless of the age difference. It’s not like you just turned 18 and I’m a gross middle aged man waiting to be able to date you.”

I scrunched my nose in disgust at his comparison. “Yeah, the world sees enough of that as it is. I think a relationship between someone in their mid 20s and someone in their 40s is the least people have to worry about.”

Gerard took my face in his hands suddenly and leaned down to kiss me. It was sweet and gentle, just a normal kiss because he felt like kissing me. I leaned into him, returning it because I just felt like kissing him, too.

This, I thought to myself, is what it would feel like to be able to just be a normal couple. Just to kiss each other because we feel like it.

We turned off the water as it started to run cold. We both dried off and got ready for bed. I knew I should’ve gone back to my own room, that it would be suspicious if anyone came looking for me the next morning and I wasn’t there, but I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to spend the night with Gerard, and he wanted me there, too.

We climbed into bed together. Gerard turned off the lamp next to the bed and the room was plunged into darkness. He took me into his arms, holding me to him as the fatigue finally started to wash over us. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heart beating, as I closed my eyes.

This is what it would be like if we could be a normal couple, was the last thought I had before I finally drifted off to sleep.

*I’m sorry there wasn’t more to the smut. I got sick in the middle of writing this and found myself struggling to finish the smutty bits. I hope it was okay otherwise!*

#gerard way #gerard way imagine #gerard way x reader #gerard way smut #my chemical romance #imagine #one shot #request #rpf #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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bitchinbarzal · 9 months

Text

sleeping with the devil | A Fantilli

summary: adam’s dancing with the devil after his girlfriends death

warnings: death, drunk driving, car crash, no real ending.

Adam can still remember everything that happened that night, he remembers the screaming, crying, the lights in the hospital.

Luca remembers watching through the window of the hospital room as his parents told his brother the news, him screaming in denial. He was ripping the breathing tubes from his nose and trying desperately to claw his way past his parents to get to you.

Luca remembers holding Adam every night when he’d wake up screaming from the nightmare of reliving that night over and over again.

The only time he was ever at peace was when he was asleep and still then he had to watch you die all over again, the blood dripping down your forehead, your skin so pale. He wanted to just reach out and hold you, but he couldn’t because what came next was the replay of that drunk driver smashing into the passenger side of his car, your body being thrown out the windshield.

He never thought he would go to your funeral, constantly saying he didn’t want to go. His parents and friends tried to change his mind but he wouldn’t budge.

On the morning of the funeral Luca got ready in his suit before walking into Adam’s room, to attempt to convince him.

Instead he walked in on his brother, sobbing into your hoodie.

The sobs were gut wrenching. Much like when a little kid is hurt.

His baby brother was hurt.

Adam was startled when Luca’s hand landed on his back “hey bud… it’s time to go”

Throughout the entire service Adam held his mom’s hand and listened to everyone tell stories about you.

He liked listening to them but he knew nobody in this world could tell stories that would compare to his.

You were his best friend and the stories you shared, they would make Oscar winning movies.

You would always be his star.

After the funeral your parents spotted him and immediately wanted to talk.

“Adam!”

“Oh hi, sorry I haven’t been-“

Your mom cut him off with a hug “It’s been hard for everyone but we know you’ve been struggling. We just miss you”

That night he went back to your house for the first time since the accident and had dinner with your parents. It hurt him so bad but he knew your parents needed it to heal so he put on a brave face.

The first year was weird for Adam.

When your birthday came around, he bought and wrapped a lot of gifts. They were never opened and everyone was a little concerned for him but they let him be, just happy he was ok.

He wasn’t ok.

On your anniversary, he took himself to eat at your favourite pizza place together in Ann Arbor. It was the first time he’d been in since you passed. The guy behind the counter looked at Adam sadly before saying “I’m so sorry about your girl”

He smiled softly before taking his pizza and sitting at your table. He set out a paper plate on your side and even got a bottle of the juice you liked.

“Six years we’ve been dating huh?” He mumbles, biting into the slice.

“Love You so much baby, I miss you”

As the year went on people were less worried, he began socializing more and he was becoming Adam again.

When the draft rolled around his family knew it would be hard.

Luca prayed that the projections were right and that Anaheim would take him. So he could be as far away from here as possible.

That wasn’t the case when he was drafted by Columbus. Walking onto that stage he shook everyone’s hand before looking at the camera and opening his suit jacket to show your name largely embroidered by his heart.

At home, your parents watched on wearing their Fantilli jerseys and crying when they saw his jacket.

Holding one another infront of the tv your dad mumbled “He’s the best kid”

And when he had finished all of his interviews Adam found a text on his phone from your mom

she would be so proud of you adam. Congratulations sweetheart, you’ve made us all so proud!

he replied

thanks mom! love you guys

mom. that was the first time anyone had called her mom since the accident. she held onto that text and looked at it everyday.

Adam’s parents and Luca were concerned about him moving to Columbus.

“Adam just stay in Michigan! Stay with me another year”

Adam sighed and shook his head “No, I want to go and I want to get away with a fresh start”

“But-“

“I can’t be reminded of her in everything I do anymore! I want to go out and not have to avoid eating somewhere because she’s there in my memories” he cried out.

“Adam you need to adapt at some point”

Adam’s head swings around to face his brother, angry tears lining his eyes “I’ll never be able to ‘adapt’ Luca! She’s gone! Dead! I was driving the car-“

“You didn’t kill her!” He shouted back. Part of him wanted to stop the other half knew Adam hadn’t spoken about it and that he needed to get it out.

“I was driving the car!” He screamed, standing up and looking over his big brother “I could’ve saved her!”

“Adam nothing was going to save her” he hand rested on Adam’s arm “there’s only one person to blame and it was the drunk driver in the other car”

Luca stared at Adam’s shaking shoulders as he sobbed silently before he said “The last thing I told her was ‘you’re gonna be ok’ — I lied to her”

Luca leaned forward and grabbed his brother into his hold, squeezing him tight

“It’s gonna be ok”

“I should’ve protected her”

It didn’t take long for Nick to take Adam under his wing in Columbus. It made Luca feel better even if Nick was never his captain the boys had no bad things to say about the Blankenburg boy.

Luca was just happy he’d be looked after.

Adam met Paige at a party, Nick’s birthday party. She was a friend of a friend and they hit it off really well.

Adam wasn’t looking for a relationship and he didn’t tell anybody about Paige but he was enjoying himself, finally feeling free again.

Luca noticed his brothers happier tune over the phone and even asked Nick and Kent what was going on to which they claimed to have no idea.

Adam kept Paige private for a while, hanging out and going to dinner a few times a week. She was nice and they got along really well.

She was pretty, she was gorgeous actually and Adam felt weird about his feelings. He questioned them for a while before he eventually made a move on her in his apartment.

His body was relieved of a lot of anxiety after that, like all of his pent up emotions had just disappeared. Paige felt like a safe place for Adam. She didn’t judge him or ask questions she was just there for him.

Adam didn’t keep pictures of you guys in his new apartment or really any of your stuff with him, all of it resided in his parents house. So Paige never saw you, she didn’t know about you she just though Adam was some hockey player who liked being alone.

The were seeing each other for about six months before Adam made it official, asking her to be his girlfriend.

He’d slowly started mentioning her to his family and friends. The boys immediately calling Nick and Kent for information on the girl.

Kent didn’t like her, he said there was something off but Nick told him to play nice.

Adam took Paige to Ann Arbor to see the team play one weekend and to finally introduce her to his brother and his parents who had flown in to see Luca too. The meeting was fine, as Luca had described it but they weren’t overly eager to meet Paige.

Lately, Adam seemed caught up in hockey and his girlfriend too much so to notice what was going on around him.

That’s why it came as a shock to him when his big brother called him screaming down the phone.

“You didn’t call today? You couldn’t spare five minutes?”

“What are you talking about? What-“

Luca wants to laugh “Are you serious right now? You don’t know what today is?”

Adam scrunches his brows together “No? Should I?”

“You’re fucking with me right? You’re actually kidding me”

There was silence on the phone, both ends, before Luca said “It’s ok Adam I’ll go put flowers on her grave don’t you worry. You just enjoy your little girlfriend I’ll take care of y/n”

Adam’s breath hitched before he looked down at his phone and the date, it was the anniversary of your death.

“Luca I didn’t-“

“You know what Adam? I want you to be happy, I do! But she doesn’t deserve to be forgotten”

She stumbles “I didn’t forget!”

“Oh yeah? When have you visited? Her birthday, Christmas, your anniversary… none of it. You were too busy with her” he spat.

“Hey leave Paige out of this she didn’t do anything!”

“Whatever man, I’ll see you in the off season or whatever”

Adam was hurt. He was hurt because he had forgotten this day, it was too late to call your parents now and he was hurt his brother would dismiss him like that.

He soon shook it off and acted like nothing happened when Paige came over to stay the night.

When the Blue Jackets season eventually finished, Adam had invited Paige to come to Toronto and meet his family and friends from home.

Luca wasn’t too impressed with the idea, opting to stay in Michigan for as long as he could before headed back. He had to go back near the middle of the summer, it was your birthday party.

Every year your parents threw a massive party and they continued the tradition even after your passing instead using it as a space to gather your closest friends and family to celebrate your life.

Your mom and dad had invited all the boys from Michigan as they were some of your closest friends so Luca wasn’t alone with Adam and his new girlfriend.

Adam’s mom and dad weren’t best pleased he insisted on bringing Paige to the party

“It’s a bit disrespectful, Adam!”

“Her parents want me to be happy”

“Yes but they don’t need you flaunting your new girlfriend in their faces and on her birthday party no less”

They lost that argument with Adam not caring and taking her anyway. Paige got lost in the crowds that showed up for your party anyway, your parents didn’t really notice her.

The boys did, however and they weren’t best pleased.

“Who does she think she is?! This is y/n’s birthday!”

As the night drew in and people started to leave, a lot of guests began migrating towards the house. Which is where Adam and Paige were, in the living room trying to get warm.

Paige noticed a picture of Adam on the mantle, walking up to it and holding it in her hand “Why do they have a picture of you in here?”

Adam looked at the picture, from his draft. They were so proud.

“Oh they were really proud of me in my draft, I’ve played hockey here since I was a kid”

Paige’s face scrunched up “still it’s a bit weird your neighbour having a picture of you on their mantle”

Adam frowned “Not really, their daughter was my best friend”

best friend. ouch.

“Their daughter… this is her party right?” He hummed in response “What happened to her?”

Adam gulped and froze for a moment, he hadn’t thought about that night much lately.

“She was killed in a car accident by a drunk driver, underage too when we were in Michigan. I was in the car” he explained. He noticed an immediate uncomfortable shift in Paige’s posture after he said that.

He watched her eyes scan along the mantle some more before she stopped on the last picture, it was you both on the day you moved into your dorm at Michigan.

You were beaming so much and Adam was just happy you were happy. Kitted out in your athletics kit.

“Is this her?” Paige asked, looking at the picture with a slight shake in her voice.

“Yeah that’s Y/N” he said “Are you Ok?”

Paige put down the frame and turned to Adam “I have to tell you something”

He looked worried “What’s up, you’re scaring me”

Paige fidgeted with her fingers before she said to Adam in a whisper “It was me”

“What?”

She shook her head as if she was trying to stop herself “I was the drunk driver” she pointed to the picture of you both “That’s the girl, I killed her”

Adam’s breath got stuck in his throat and he couldn’t speak, he felt like he was drowning in his own body.

It all came back to him then, your screams, the car flipping, the scratching off the road, your sobs, crying out for help and the blood on your face as you looked at him as the life slowly left your body.

“Adam I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! You’ve never said anything about her and you don’t have pictures I didn’t even know her name they just showed me a picture” she cried, desperate for him to say something.

People had started coming in after hearing the commotion

“Whats going on?”

Adam had tears running down his face as he pulled at his hair and looked at her “Paige killed y/n”

“I didn’t know!” She screamed, everyone looked a little alarmed.

Adam’s parents sprung into action and took Paige out of the house with a simple “I think we step outside”

Johnny had turned to your parents and suggested some air “hey guys, how about we head out back again”

Leaving the boys all staring at Adam’s distraught figure in the middle of the room.

The stared for a moment before Luca approached his brother and said

“Nice job protecting her Adam, I’m sure she’s so proud”

Adam sobbed even harder, trying to hard to comprehend all of this.

“I’m sorry!” He yelled out, to nobody in particular as they’d all left him alone now. He was on his knees in tears looking at the picture of you on the mantle and he whispered

“I should’ve protected you, I didn’t protect you”

#adam fantilli x reader #adam fantilli imagine #nhl imagine

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thedirtygridd · 1 year

Text

MY STEP BROTHER IS PIERRE GASLY…

WARNINGS - 18+, sexual content

Summary - You are still an innocent virgin, but one guy gives you feelings that you can’t quite explain….but it’s made complicated by the fact that this person is in fact Pierre Gasly…..your step-brother. (Based on a request. Kept them coming! )

You often wondered to yourself, as you sat in your bedroom, what it would be like to be with a guy.

What would it feel like? How pleasurable would sex really be…

You often daydreamed of your perfect guy, wishing you could finally let loose and lose your virginity.

You had some fit guys at your college, but none of them fully did it for you. None of them really seemed worth it….

But there was one person that always entered the back of your mind. Someone you couldn’t help but always think back to.

Pierre Gasly.

“But I can’t” you said to yourself as you began to daydream

“Stop it” you forced yourself to say.

You couldn’t think these sexual feelings towards Pierre, because he was your step-brother.

It was wrong to even start thinking of him nake…

“STOP” you shouted at yourself.

You lay down on your bed, scrolling through your phone, as you heard the doorbell ring

You couldn’t think who it could be. Your parents were away for the weekend, so it was just you in the house

You sprinted downstairs, in your mini skirt, and opened the door.

You were shocked to find Pierre on the other side!

“Heyyyy!” Pierre exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around you to greet you

His aroma and masculine scent sending a shiver down your spine, along with the feeling of his big hands wrapping around your back as he greeted you.

He was wearing his gym clothes, and did feel a bit sweaty as you hugged him

“Sorry I have just been working out, I am probably sweaty…but I decided to come home for the weekend, I heard it’s just you here, and your mum and dad are on vacation?”

Pierre had different parents to you, he was just “related” to you in the sense that his dad was now married to your mother.

“Yeah just me in the house this weekend, all alone!” You replied

“Welll….not anymore. We can have some fun” Pierre replied

You both sat down and chatted for a few hours, catching up on what you had missed.

You both had a great relationship, so many similar interests, so the conversation flowed with ease.

His deep, croaky, masculine voice gave you goosebumps as he described the f1 season he had been having so far. You loved it when he told his stories of frustrating outcomes in a race - you liked it when he was pissed off

Time passed, and Pierre decided to go and have a shower, to wash off all the sweat from his workout.

You both went upstairs and as he showered, you went back to your bedroom. You left your door open and could hear him in the shower in the opposite bathroom.

You lay there, listening to the water tricking down. Imagining the sight of it running down his thick neck, and trickling between his rock-hard Abs.

You couldn’t help but get aroused at the thought.

Your hand slowly crept down into your panties…and you began rubbing your clit, which was already wet

“I shouldn’t….” You reminded yourself

You kept trying to stop yourself, but your finger rubbed in circles over your hardening clit. The feeling getting more and more intense with ever stroke

You closed your eyes and imagined what it might feel like to get fucked by a guy…to finally lose your virginity…but best of all - for it to be Pierre. His experience….he had fucked a lot of girls already, you imagined how good he must feel inside

By this stage, you had got so distracted by your dirty thoughts, that you had missed Pierre getting out the shower, and he was now standing at your door

“Are you … are you okay?” Pierre asked as he stood by the door, with just a towel wrapped round his waist

“Shit …. errr, what you doing?!” You shouted towards the door.

You quickly pulled your pants back up and tried to look innocent as Pierre smirked at you.

Water dropped down from his messy, wet hair, and trickled down his sharp jawline

His hairy chest exposed as he glistened in the light

“We all need our alone moments…don’t be ashamed” Pierre replied , still smirking

“Thinking of someone nice? Some guy at college?” Pierre asked

You went blood red. You didn’t know what to say

“Oh…someone else eh?” He added.

He walked into your room and sat on the side of your bed , next to you

“You know I’ve never been with a guy, right?” You asked Pierre

“Really..wow, I’m surprised. A good looking girl like you should have guys all over you…” he replied

“You know….if you wanted…I could share some of my experience with you…” he added

You didn’t know how to respond. All you did was bite your lip

This message got across to Pierre. He leant over, slowly, and pressed his lips on yours

“We shouldn’t” you said, while holding him away

“We should” he responded, using his dominance to kiss you. This time it was more passionate, you instantly felt his tongue enter your mouth, and yours in his.

He kicked your neck , smothering it with saliva as he did

You couldn’t help but groan. You felt your pussy leaking at this point. You were already so aroused.

You couldn’t believe this was actually happening

You tan your fingers through his wet hair, and around his thick, warm neck as he sucked on yours

You could tell that you both had wanted to do this for a while

Pierre then placed you down, on your back. He placed himself above you, while lowering his towel, exposing all of his abs, and his hardening cock. Which was even bigger than you had imagined.

You noticed pre-cum oozing out of his tip as he started kissing your tits.

He sucked and kissed your tits, before lowering himself onto your pussy

His tongue licked you and sucked you out for what felt like forever.

You heard him slurping on your juices as he licked you out. You felt every movement of his tongue sliding in and out of you, and rubbing all over your hard clit

“I’m gonna cu—“ you climaxed before you could even warn him.

You squirted all over his pretty face, his tongue sipping up all the juice

He then got himself into position.

He held his cock with one hand as he rubbed it on your clit.

“Are you ready?” He asked

“I think so…” you responded, a bit nervous you must admit

“If you need me to stop, then tell me” he reassured you.

“I am quite big, so…” he added

He slowly pushed his cock into you.

At first, it felt like he was ripping a hole in you. A hole that just kept on getting stretched as he slipped inside. You felt his tip pushing apart your Virgin walls

The first guy ever to enter you… and it was Pierre.

This was a dream come true

It kept sliding further and further in. When would it end? You wondered.

“Shit you’re so fucking tight…ugh I love how you feel” he groaned.

He then Started thrusting in and out.

At first, it felt quite painful. You grabbed onto his biceps hard as he started to fuck you. You felt him stretching you out, you groaned like you had never before

Your nails dug into his olive skin as he fucked you

The pain quickly turned to pleasure , and before you knew it you were begging him to go harder and faster. Which he did

Every thrust he gave you was perfect. You felt every inch of him. Every throb of his hard cock

You made out with him as you fucked. Trading spit as your tongues swapped into each others mouths.

“Fuck yeah” he groaned as you kissed

You felt his body getting stickier and sweatier with every thrust. You loved it. You loved the idea of him working hard to fuck you. Sweating … just for you

“This is wrong….” You tried to say In between kisses, in between groans as he thrust you

“….but I fucking love it” you added. “Fuck me hard. Fuck me like you fuck your girlfriend”

“Are you sure?” He asked

“Do it. “ you responded

This immediately turned on a switch for Pierre. It changed him

He scooped you up under his arms and threw you onto all fours, before sliding his cock into you and fucking you doggy.

It felt even harder, even rougher than anything you could’ve ever fantasised about

He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back as he fucked you

“Like this, you slut” he shouted

You heard his skin slapping on yours as he thrust in and out of you with force and speed.

He spanked your arse

“Ahh! You exclaimed. The pain felt good tho

You hoped he would leave a handprint.

This was how every good should lose their virginity - you thought to yourself as he pressed himself even further into you than before, hitting the deepest walls inside you

“Shit I’m close” he gasped, out of breath from the intense fucking

He flipped you back towards him and kissed you again, his tongue sliding over your lips as he did. He then pushed you back onto your back and began jerking his cock on top of you

“ wanna see what happens when a real guy cums” he asked, while biting his lip and wiping sweat from his brow

“Cum all over me” you begged

He jerked his cock…he stroked it hard

“Wait….” You shouted

“Cum in me”

He smirked

He slipped his cock back inside you and thrust harder than ever. He felt even harder now, as if he was about to explode from within

“Are you sure? But I haven’t got a condom on…” he sounded a little concerned but it was quickly forgotten when you begged him for it

“Cum in me Pierre” you demanded

You grabbed his abs as he thrust. They clenched up on your hands as he moved

And then You felt it

Your walls completely filled with a warm, gooey fluid

It was as if someone had turned on the tap and left it running

He groaned and trembled ad he released his load inside your tight hole

“Shit….fuck!!” He groaned while collapsing on top of you

You felt his sticky, sweaty body on top of you as he rested. His cock still inside you, still twitching slightly as it bathed in his own cum bath he had just created inside you.

You both lay there , catching your breathe.

You couldn’t believe you had lost your virginity…finally

With Pierre of all people

But then the guilt started to settle.

But it wasn’t enough for you to tell him to move. You enjoyed the feeling of him twitching inside you

“Fuck….we’re gonna have a fun weekend” Pierre smirked

“Let’s shower, we’re so fucking sweaty” he said, still out of breath, before lifting you up and carrying you to the bathroom….

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #pierre gasly #pierre gasly smut #carlos sainz #carlos sainz smut #lando norris #lando norris smut #george russell #formula one #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n

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jennay · 7 months

Text

Under The Stars

Request: hi! could i possibly request a best friends to lovers one shot with noah - sort of like, both of them were too scared to say how they felt? i was thinking the reader has been friends with noah and ruffilo since they were teenagers and she now works with the band as a guitar tech or something :') thank you!

Master List

An: I changed the setting where the confessions happen. I hope you love it. It's mushy!

If you want to be tagged in future Noah things let me know 🖤

If you have any requests feel free to send them!

You relaxed in the back of your 'new' truck, a battered old pickup your dad had given you as a hand-me-down. The metal was scratched and dented, and the paint was peeling off in places, but you loved it anyway. Noah and Nick, your two best friends, lay beside you on the soft blankets you had spread over the truck bed.

You felt their warmth and comfort as you gazed at the sky, watching the stars sparkle and fade. The night air was cool and crisp, and you heard the crickets chirping in the distance. You adored nights like this when their company made your teenage years more bearable.

"Look!" Noah exclaimed, pointing to the sky. "Shooting star."

"You have to make a wish!" You say, following the trail of the star with your eyes.

Nick leaned his head on your shoulder, snuggling closer to you. "Yeah, Noah, you saw it first! make the wish!”

You nodded in agreement, "He's right."

Noah smiled brightly and tilted his head to look at the two of you. His eyes were shining with mischief and curiosity. "I wish-" He started to say, but you quickly put your hand over his mouth, stopping him from speaking. "Don't say it out loud or it won't come true!" You warned him, laughing. You felt him mumble something under your hand and wondered what he wished for but didn't ask because you wanted all of Noah's dreams to come true.

The present:

You spring into action the moment you see Jolly turn around and look at the cord of his guitar. Something was wrong.

You had feared the day that this would happen but hoped it would never come. You wished it wasn't today.

Noah was already losing his patience with the crowd that kept brawling through the night, and the amount of technical difficulties that plagued the show made you feel like a lousy worker.

You sprint over to Jolly while Noah once again pauses the concert to lecture the crowd about their behavior. You're almost grateful for the disruption of the crowd. It buys you a few more minutes to figure out a solution to the problem.

You kneel down at the amp, searching for the problem, and you grab the cord, following it back to the guitar that Jolly is holding. His eyes widened, and he searched your face for answers.

You stick your pointer finger up as if telling him one minute, giving him hope that you've got this under control. You stand up, unplug the wire from his guitar, and race over to the chest. Lucky for you, only the cord needed to be replaced. You knew there was probably a bigger issue with Jolly's connection to his guitar, but right now, you couldn't fix that problem in the middle of the show.

You give Jolly a thumbs-up, and he gives a nod, mouthing thank you as you jog off the stage.

You hoped that would hold up until the show was over. You didn't believe in god but were now praying for a better outcome. You didn't want to disappoint the guys; they already had many issues tonight.

You sit on the side of the stage close to Jolly, just in case anything else happens. You were relieved when the band was no longer stopping for technical errors.

After the show, you meet up with guys backstage, giving them high-fives and admiration for their work.

You were so proud of them for all their badassery.

You walk them back to the bus, listening to them talk about the show. You hear Noah talking about the crowd, and he wonders out loud if they're doing something causing the actions. He's frustrated because this isn't the first time but hopes it will be the last.

You all rush into the bus, and Noah flops down on the couch. You sit beside him while the other three prepare to hit the town for the night.

When Ruffilo reappears in front of you, he has a sneaky smile on his face, "You're coming out with us right?" He asks you.

You shake your head and shut your eyes, "I'm really tired and going to pass out on this couch. This is my spot." You joke. "Now go, have fun. Drink for me." You say, waving them off.

As the others leave, you sit up straight, groaning, when you feel Noah's eyes on you. You know he's looking at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes, which always makes your heart skip a beat.

You pretend to be annoyed and turn to face him. "What?" You ask, trying to sound casual.

Noah shrugs. "I have an idea." He stands up, walks to his bunk, and grabs one of the small blankets off his bed. He then hurried over to the small fridge tucked under the cabinet next to you.

"Do you have a sweater?" You shake your head, "What are you up to?"

"Go get one of Nick's sweaters, I saw one on his bunk. It's chilly outside." He grins warmly at you.

You raise an eyebrow, "Are you trying to get me drunk and steal Nick's clothes?"

He chuckles, "Maybe. Is that a problem?"

You roll your eyes, but you can't help but smile. You get up, doing as he says, and snatch the black zip-up hoodie he was referring to.

You walk back to Noah, who gives you the bottle of wine and slings the blanket over his shoulder.

He rummages through the small kitchenette, finding two coffee cups. "Guess this will do." He says with a shrug. "Let's go!"

You playfully roll your eyes, "Can you fill me in on what's happening?" You say, following him out the door.

You feel a cold breeze hit your face, and you shiver, wishing you had a thicker jacket. The sky is dark with glittering stars, and you can't help but stare up at the sky. You've always loved the night sky, the way it makes you feel small and infinite at the same time.

"We're going to go sip some wine and look at the stars, just like the old days. We haven't done that in ages." He says, flashing you a smile.

You feel your heart race again, remembering all the times you spent together under the stars, talking, laughing, dreaming.

He wraps his arm around you and leads you to an area that isn't too far from the bus but feels natural due to the trees surrounding the area. You smell the fresh pine and earthy soil and feel a sense of peace.

Noah lays the blanket down and smooths out any wrinkles. You take off your shoes and step on them, sitting down, "Hurry up. I'm cold and I could really use your body heat right now." You tease.

You don't mind the cold but love the excuse to cuddle with him.

"Is that all I'm good for?" He says, sitting next to you. He lifts his arm and lets you snuggle into his side.

You feel his warmth and his heartbeat, and you sigh contentedly. You breathe in his scent, a mix of sweat, cologne, and something uniquely him. You feel his lips press against your hair, and you smile.

"Hand me the wine."

You reach beside you and grab the bottle, handing it to Noah. You hear the top pop off, and he begins pouring the wine into the coffee cups. You take a sip, and your face scrunches at the bitter taste, pulling away from Noah. You give him a look of disgust, and Noah laughs at your reaction.

"Who drinks this shit?" You take another drink, hoping your taste buds will become more accustomed to the taste.

You don't care about the wine; you just want to spend quality time with him, away from the tour's chaos and stress.

You lean back on your hands, gazing at Noah with admiration. He's too busy pouring more wine; you watch the red liquid flow like blood.

At this moment, you're convinced something else is going on with him. He seemed nervous and fidgety, his eyes darting like a trapped animal.

You break the short silence by leaning forward and reaching out to touch his hair. Your fingers linger at his neck as you say, "I like your hair when it gets longer." You admit while stroking the wild strands.

Noah smiles down at you, his brown irises soft and kind, "Why do you think I haven't cut it again?" He asks with a nervous laugh.

You feel your cheeks heat up, and you look away. "You're growing it out for me?" You say, half-joking, half-hoping.

"Yes, I am." He says, his voice serious. "Because I want you to find me attractive." The words slip out of his mouth, and he freezes. His eyes widen, shocked by his own words.

Noah had only ever told Nick about his secret, and he always told him it was a crush that would fade over time. He practically begged Noah not to tell you. Nick feared it would ruin your friendships and didn't want to be the middleman if something happened.

"You what?" You say, stunned.

He exhales, biting his lip. "You know what I wished for all those years ago when we were kids in the back of your truck with Nick?" He looks at you, his expression hopeful and nervous. He gently grabs your hand in his.

You feel nervous at his touch. Noah didn't act this way, not around you. "You're not supposed to tell me your wishes." You smile weakly.

"I have to." He says desperately. "I've tried not saying anything and it still didn't come true." He lifts your chin, making you look into his eyes. He wants you to hear him loud and clear. " I wished for you to fall in love with me, to look at me the way you look at the stars."

You feel excitement in your chest, and want him to know you've wished for the same thing. You wrap your arms around his neck, and whisper in his ear. “You don’t have to wish anymore. I love you too.”

He smiles widely, and pulls you closer to him, his hands cup your face as he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. You feel his warm breath on your skin, and his tongue gently teasing your mouth. You hear his soft moan, and his heartbeat pounding in sync with yours.

You pull back, gasping for air, and look into his eyes. You see the same spark that ignited your kiss, the same desire that matched yours.

You smile and whisper, “I'll gladly make your wish come true.”

Tags: Tags: @thisbicc @yumikitten @lma1986 @chemicallady @niicoleleigh

#noah sebastian x y/n #noah sebastian oneshot #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic

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imtryingbuck · 3 months

Text

Fifty Five

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 1,280

Warnings: angst, heavy use of pet names. fluff. swearing. short and pretty much a filler sorry

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

It's been ten years since Grace and Bunny's Haven opened, since then the manor went under construction adding another floor for more rooms, they had more women and children seeking safety than they had room for.

Robin was the only one that was still there from when the doors opened, the others finding freedom when their abuses went to prison or by moving far away with the help from Y/n. Robin asked to stay saying that she seemed to have found her calling, who was Y/n to say no to her?

Y/n was proud of who the young woman had turned into over the years. She had even paid for Robin to go to school, Robin got her degree in psychology and became a counsellor at the Haven, Y/n threw a party when Robin graduated, sitting front row and centre when the girl went onto stage. Robin would sometimes call her mom, apologising straight away but Y/n would wave her off.

Y/n walked down the hallway smiling as she heard the children laughing in the playroom, Lily and Rose eight year old twins of one of the women who had come to the Haven a few months back were sitting on the stairs smiling and waving at her when she walked past.

As she came outside her steps halted at seeing Georgia and Billy kissing.

Yep that was happening. When Georgia turned fifteen Billy asked her out, Y/n, Bucky, Wanda and Vis watched as the sixteen year old turned bright red as he asked Georgia to be his girlfriend. Georgias face was bright red too as she nodded and said yes.

A year ago they had moved into an apartment together and from what Georgia had told Y/n everything was perfect between them. Y/n promised Billy that she wouldn’t say anything about him getting Georgia an engagement ring.

“Kissing on the job is really bad you know?” She said laughing when the pair jumped apart from each other.

“Hi mom didn’t see you there”

“Because you was busy trying to eat Bilbos face off that’s why”

“S-sorry Y/n” Billy spluttered nervously.

“Sure you are. Anyways get back to work we’ve got a new family coming today”

“Where’s dad?” Georgia asks following behind Y/n hand in Billy’s.

“Probably trying to eat the cake I told him specifically not to eat”

And sure enough that’s how they found him.

“Bunny where are you?”

“Kitchen”

“Is Georgia with you?”

“No”

Bucky strolls in with a box with a new cake after he and Steve ate the other. Kissing Y/n on her cheek before placing the box on the side. “How’s the new family settling in?”

“Good, I’ve rang Graham to see if they have an electric wheelchair I can buy as the youngest child’s wheelchair is damaged and I was thinking if he had an electric one that he could feel more free, you know?”

“What did Graham say?”

“Dropping it off tomorrow, I told Kim about it and she burst out crying, I felt so bad”

Wrapping his arms around Y/n he started dancing with her. “That’s good and probably because she’s overwhelmed Bunny, I read her file and it was bad”

“It was. Anyway what are you up to?”

“Dancing with my beautiful wife, what about you?”

“Dancing with my beautiful husband?”

“Aw you think I’m beautiful? That’s so sweet”

“Oh shut up and hold me closer”

Complying with her wishes he holds her closer to his chest, her head on his chest listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart they continue to dance around the kitchen.

Both completely unaware that Georgia was standing at the archway to the kitchen. Ever since she was little she loved seeing her parents dance, Bucky would always have his fingers playing with her moms long curly hair as they slow danced together. Half of the time there was never any music playing.

“I love you Bunny”

“I love you Ducky”

“I love you Georgia, aw I love you too mom and dad” Bucky looks up to see their daughter standing there, he gives her an amused smile before sticking his tongue out at her.

“You know we love you Georgie moo”

“Mom” Georgia whined at the nickname.

“Aw Bunny our Georgie moo don’t like it when you call her that”

“Oh no what will we do?”

“I don’t know you know? How about you go left and I’ll go right?”

“You got it”

When they look over at Georgia her eyes widen at seeing the mischievous glint in their eyes, before she has chance to back away her parents separate from each other, her mom going left and her dad going right.

Georgia starts to run whilst laughing at her parents who chase after her, loud giggles fill the empty house when Y/n grabs her and tickles her until they both fall on to the ground. Bucky joins in by tickling Y/n, knowing how ticklish she was.

They all go quiet when the front door comes open and Billy pops his head around the wooden door. “A-are you all okay?”

“Mom go left, dad go right and I’ll go straight” Georgia says quietly, all three get up and slowly walk towards Billy.

“No no no leave me alone guys please” Billy pleads but it was no use. He screams when all three of them practically pounce on him.

Bucky, Steve, Sam and Vis were on grill duty whilst the women talked about everything and anything. It was Georgias twentieth birthday and they were having a barbecue just like she asked for.

“Auntie Y/n c-can I talk to you for a second please?”

“No she’s my wifey!”

“Ignore your mom Billy Bob, of course what’s up?”

“P-privately please”

“Okay, help me up though I’m old” Billy takes her hand and helps her stand and they go inside into the kitchen. “What’s up bubs?”

“I-I-I was thinking about proposing to Georgia today, what do you think?”

“Do it! Oh Billy that’s amazing, do you have the ring with you?”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, are you sure?”

“I love her more than anything Y/n, I swear”

“Then do it darling because I know she loves you just as much”

“O-o-okay I’m g-going to do it”

After agreeing with Y/n that he should do it after they’ve had something to eat they step back outside together, both ignoring the questioning looks from everyone.

An hour later when everyone’s bellies were full and satisfied Billy starts to stand, his eyes going straight to look at Y/n he releases a stuttering breath when she nods and smiles.

“G-Georgia can you come here a second please?”

“Okay, you alright?”

“I love you, I really love you and I was wondering i-if you would-“ Billy lets go of her hand kneeling as he pulls out a box out of his pocket “-Georgia Maria Grace Winnie Barnes will you marry me, please?” Billy asked as their family watched from the background, Wanda and Y/n clinging onto each other waiting for Georgia’s reply.

“Billy…this is awkward” hearing Georgia’s voice everyone’s hearts dropped to their stomachs, Y/n wanted to go over to hold Billy in her arms as soon as she saw his eyes glisten with tears.

“O-oh I-I’m sor-“

“No no no, it’s awkward because well-“ everyone gasped when they see Georgia getting down on one knee too, pulling a box out of her pocket “-I was going to ask you the same thing”

“Ah, well ask me then”

“Billy Maximoff will you marry me, please?”

“Yes. What about you?”

“Of course I’ll marry you”

The whole backyard erupts in cheers as the young couple exchanges rings and kiss.

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher @hawkinsavclub1983 @onlyonetifosi @parisadams @unabashedstarlightcrown @nash-dara @allofffmypeaches @loki-laufeyson68 @behindmygreyeyes @missvelvetsstuff @pigeonmama @lizslibrary @gloriouspurpose01 @gaya-is-weird-af

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juneknight · 8 months

Text

•.Be Lost.• 2

Chapter One | Chapter 1.5 | Chapter Two | Chapter 2.5

“You talk about them often enough. I feel like we should formally meet. What’s the equivalent of putting a face to a name, but with sex toys?” Marc asks, voice warm with mirth from the other end of the phone. It’s the only thing warm about living up here in the constant snowstorms. Your feet ache today from stomping around in the fields on the frozen earth. Even though Spring approaches on the calendar, you don’t yet feel it in the air.

You dread the thought of possibly having to delay your return home, to Marc, because of the weather.

Your box of sex toys (it’s a shoe box, yes, some nice Cat’s boots with steel in the toes and thick insulated soles, a half-size larger than usual to allow for thick wooly socks which you favored) sits on the bed. You no longer even owned the shoes, but the box was heavy, the lid bulging from two years of collecting an eclectic set of sex toys.

“I’ll show you. But I have rules,” you say, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear.

“I’m listening.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and it drives you nuts.

“One–absolutely no naming them. I’m serious. The last thing I want is to be trying to get off and remember that you named a certain dildo Colonel Mustard.”

“I’m more of a Professor Plum kind of guy anyway, but consider your objection noted.”

“No making fun of me of any kind. Not even light teasing.”

“Agreed.”

“And no questions.”

“That’s…yeah, I don’t think I can agree to that,” he says, surprising you given how amicable he’s been so far. “Can we agree on premeditated questions? Some basics that you answer for each of them?”

You purse your lips and sit down heavily on your bed. The box rattles beside you, lid almost coming off. “Depends on the questions, I guess.”

“When was the last time you used it, and your personal rating out of ten.”

You relax somewhat. Whatever you had been worried about Marc wanting to know—’gross, why that?’ or ‘who used that on you?’—disappears. Maybe it says something about the men you’ve been with lately that your first fear is that Marc will become jealous or judgemental. You should have known that Marc would be different. “Yeah, okay. That’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice growing firm. “I don’t want you to say something’s okay when it isn’t. That’s a big deal to me.”

“I’m sure, dad.”

Marc snorts. “Okay, champ. FaceTime. Let’s go.”

You press the button, and while it connects, you experience all five stages of grief, chewing on one of your thumbnails as you shift from one socked foot to the other. At last his face appears, and it’s like a punch to the gut. Marc is so handsome: his brows, the curve of his nose, his whiskey-warm eyes, the curls spilling onto his forehead. His hair is longer now than the last time you saw him, and it makes your heart clench. You find yourself smiling without meaning to.

“Hey, beautiful,” Marc says, eyes squinting with his smile. “Long time no see.”

“Too long,” you admit. You study the picture in the background, trying to piece together where he is in his apartment. Judging by the lighting (warm but dark) and the lamp in the background, he is in his bedroom. This is confirmed when he rolls over onto his side and props himself up onto his elbow on one of the fluffy pillows.

Once, you had gotten too drunk to drive home and Marc had let you sleep in his bed. You had spent the whole night rolling around on the soft sheets, breathing in his scent, aching but too guilty to touch yourself.

“You okay?” he asks, brows lifting. His mouth settles into a soft, more neutral position, like he is being careful not to convince you one way or another. His lips are so full and soft looking… “If you don’t want to do this, we can say forget it. I just like to know what my options are.”

His options—oh fuck.

Your face burns hot. You slap one palm against your cheek, feeling the heat your skin gives off, knowing that Marc is watching you (which makes your face burn all the hotter). Fuck, how can he just say stuff like that, calm and casual in his soft, warm voice? You think about turning the camera away for a moment just to catch your breath.

“You’re so shy right now,” Marc says, a hint of laughter in his voice. “God. It’s cute.”

“Quit,” you groan, parting your fingers so you can glare at the phone. His grin just grows. “I’m not shy, I have a strap-on.”

“If you think having six inches between your legs makes you immune to shyness, I’ve got news for you.”

“Is that all you’ve got? Six inches?”

“You want to see?” The way he raises his brow, the way he so expertly calls your bluff makes your thighs clench together. Like a great neon sign flashing behind your eyes right now are the words MARC’S COCK. You’ve never seen it, but you know Marc is well hung. You’ve seen him adjust his hard ons before—in the morning after waking up, during a particularly steamy scene on Netflix. The bulge in his sweats has made an appearance or two in your dreams, yes.

“Maybe,” you admit, wondering if he’ll show you. Right now. On FaceTime. Just whip his dick out for you to drool over.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” he says, mouth quirking into a smirk. “But really. Go on. I have work in the morning, and I want to see every last toy.”

You bring out plenty of things that are “normal”. G-spot vibrators. Clitoral vibrators. Rabbit vibes, and pretty glass dildos. Most of the items get a high score—you have narrowed them down to your favorites. A natural selection amongst sex toys, if you will.

Sometimes you glance to Marc and get flustered at the solemn, studious expression on his face. He hangs on your every word, committing the things you say to memory. No man has ever given you attention the way Marc does: whole-heartedly. Singularly. Unconditionally.

Your throat gets choked up for a moment at the thought. God, you’re falling in love with him, you think in terror to yourself, as if you haven’t already. As if your knees aren’t skinned and palms bloody from the fall.

“You okay, honey?”

You jump a little, having gotten lost in your own thoughts. You clear your throat.

“Yeah, no, I’m good.” You pick up the next item, a candle. When he asks you what scent it is, you laugh a little. “The wax melts at a safe temperature for wax play. You know. Pouring wax on somebody.”

“Rate it.”

“It’s…maybe a four. May-be.”

Massage oil (8), cuffs (10), collapsible spreader bar (9), bite gag (5), blindfold (10), harness (7), all come and go. It is easier to continue once you get talking, and by the end you feel like late night Dr. Ruth.

At last, the box is empty.

“That’s all she wrote,” you tell Marc. He looks a little sleepy, though his eyes are still sharp where they focus on you, tracing over your features. He is quiet. You prod: “Well?”

“I’m going to have to use every last one on you,” he says, eyes on your own. “And until I can, I’m going to be thinking about you using every last one on yourself.”

His shoulder shifts, arm moving off screen—adjusting his hard cock.

“Fuck, Marc,” you sigh brokenly. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“That wasn’t one of your rules,” he says, eyes going heavy-lidded. You thought he was just adjusting himself, but the motion continues. Not enough for him to be full-fledged jerking off, but you think that’s he’s teasing himself. Massaging himself maybe. Your thighs squeeze together. Would he notice if you did the same? “Thank you for the show-and-tell. You’re such a good girl for me.”

You groan.

He laughs, the sound gentle and teasing. “That gets you, huh?”

“Don’t laugh at me,” you bark, endeavoring to cover your face as best as you can with one hand. The truth of his observation doesn’t matter; it’s the principle of the thing. Peeking through your fingers, you catch his expression, and your breath hitches. Marc looks at the phone screen with something unbearably tender in his eyes, something so terribly soft.

Marc looks at you like he loves you.

“Which one’s your favorite? Let me see it again.”

Your favorite. Hmm. You step back from your bed and look at the toys spread out so neatly, your brain turning over the question. All of them get you hot in one way or another, but there is one that stands out. You end up choosing a relatively simple rabbit vibrator. It’s ol’ Faithful; what else can you say?

“Is this what you grab when you want to blow your own mind, or is this what you grab any old night?”

“I want to blow my own mind every old night, Spector.”

“Noted. But you’re not pouring hot wax on yourself every old night,” he says. It is utterly distracting how his shoulder still tenses periodically, hand moving off-screen. You spend an inordinate amount of time watching those small muscles flex, trying to recreate the image of what his hand must be doing in your mind. “What is it about this one? What do you like about it?”

“I like that it fills me up,” you admit. It is a little easier to talk when you’re so distracted by him. “I like that I can use it without hands. Sometimes I put the spreader bar on and bind my hands to the headboard so I can feel like—”

Marc’s arm has stopped moving. His eyes are sharp, burning hot, like iron from the furnace. How voice is quiet but brooks no room for avoiding the question when he asks: “So you can feel like what, baby?”

“I…I don’t know,” you say. It isn’t a lie, either. You aren’t sure where the sentence was heading, and so much about your relationship with being submissive eludes you when you try to put it into words. You chew on the inside of your cheek while you think, and Marc is utterly quiet and still while you contemplate. “Like…like I’m suffering for somebody. Like my pleasure belongs to somebody else. Whoever tied me up. I don’t know.”

Marc nods a little, quiet for a moment himself. “From now on, it belongs to me, yeah? Even if you’re the one tying yourself up—you’ll be doing it because I tell you to, alright? And you’ll be doing it safely. It’s dangerous to tie yourself up when you’re alone. That’s not like my good girl. I don’t want to hear you doing that again.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. You kneel on the floor, bed too covered in toys to lay on. You rest your head against the edge of the mattress, adjusting the phone so that he can still see your face.

“I’ll forgive you when I hear that you won’t do it anymore,” he says. His hand is moving again. Maybe he is jerking off. “Promise me.”

“I won’t tie myself up when I’m alone. I promise.”

Marc lets out a breath, a literal sigh of relief. His eyes go squinty as he smiles, pride evident in the curve of his lips. “There’s my good girl.”

You groan again, turning to bury your face in the mattress.

“Are you on the floor right now?” he laughs.

You groan in an affirmative.

“Kneeling for me?”

You hadn’t intended it that way, but now that he says it, you realize that you are. You nod your head, face still hidden.

“Thighs apart?”

You peek an eye at him and hope he can tell that you’re scowling. Determined to follow his rules (even if your sex positively aches between your thighs) you shift your legs apart.

“You make me feel so powerful,” he says, voice a little shaky. His eyes are looking just off screen, like he can’t make eye-contact with you right now. “Kneeling for me, following my orders. So powerful. But so, so small. You know that? Because you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. And I like it.”

“I like it too,” you murmur, head a little foggy.

“Why?”

“It feels real safe,” you admit. “Like you’ll take care of me. Like you’d never have me do something that might hurt me or embarrass myself.”

“I wouldn’t, baby, I swear I wouldn’t,” he says. Then he sighs. “You’re driving me fucking crazy. I’m jerking off twice a day just to function.”

“Marc,” you say, your voice literally shaking. “Are you—right now?”

He hums and lets his arm grow bolder. The motion is unmistakable now. Marc Spector is masturbating on the phone with you—because of you. The knowledge is like an electric zap that you feel from your head to your toes. Is his dick out? Does he have a hand beneath his sweats? All of this is too much; your own hand falls between your thighs.

“At-at,” says Marc. His shoulder stops moving. “No touching yourself.”

“What?” you whine. “That’s not fair!”

“I stopped too!”

“You’ve been jerking off for twenty minutes though, you owe me!”

“That’s not how this works,” he laughs. “Not to mention, there isn’t a chance in hell you’d last twenty minutes even if I did let you touch yourself. No—we’re going to wait.”

“Til when?”

“Spring. The first time I hear you cum, it’s going to be with my fingers tucked inside you. I want to kiss you and swallow every sound.”

“Then can we hang up?” you ask, shifting on your knees. “I need to touch myself.”

“Use your cute little vibrator,” he murmurs. You both hang up.

He’s right. There’s no way you could have lasted twenty minutes when you barely make it to two.

Spring is never going to come.

Except it does. Of course it does. There is still the occasional snowstorm, but they are irregular enough that you are no longer needed. You book a flight back home, and send Marc a screenshot of your ticket.

I’ll pick you up.

The thought makes your belly flip with nerves. You decide that as eager as you are to see Marc, you are just as anxious too. You would rather prolong it a fraction more, would rather it took place on more familiar turf (outside your apartment rather than the strange unfamiliar-familiarity of an airport). So instead you tell him to meet you back at your apartment. If he brings some basic groceries, bonus points for him.

Though planes don’t often make you nervous anymore, you find yourself gripping your folded hands so tight that you leave marks from your fingernails. What are you doing, agreeing to have sex with Marc? This could ruin everything: your most valuable friendship. The one person in the world who had stuck beside you through thick and thin, even when you had lost people you thought you’d die without.

Even more frightening: what if everything goes right?

Landed, see you soon!! You hope that your exclamation points cover up your anxiety.

Don’t be nervous, he sends back. Fuck.

The Uber is the longest of your life, familiar scenery passing by as you leave the airport and enter the city you’ve called home for so many years. The city where you met Marc. The city where you meet him again and again in the spring, like Persephone coming home. It always happens like this too.

The Uber pulls up to the curb outside your apartment, and Marc is sitting there on the steps. Today is only different because he’s pacing—maybe you aren’t the only one who’s nervous. He’s dressed for spring in just a light jacket, t-shirt, and his jeans. He doesn’t recognize the car when it pulls up, but he recognizes you in the passenger seat. God. His face lights up. Marc goes to the car door and opens it for you, draws you out and into his arms. The first hug he always gives you is bone crushing. He lifts you off the ground and twirls you in his arms before helping you regain your footing.

“Long time, no see,” he says—like always.

“Too long,” you say, clinging to him.

“Uh. Don’t forget your bags,” your Uber driver calls through the open window.

“I got them,” says Marc. He insists on carrying them inside and up the stairs—nice to see that the elevator is still out of order even after the winter. On the way up, Marc fills you in an the uneventful time he spent popping into your apartment every other day to collect your mail, to dust, to water your plants.

You wonder if he slept in your bed. If he laid amongst the scent of you and wanted to touch himself, like you had that night you were too drunk to drive home from his place. You hope that he did—you hope that he touched himself. You—

“Bed,” he says, giving you a jumpscare. At the wide-eyed expression on your face, he misunderstands. “Not for sex! Just—your exhausted. That’s what you get for taking such an early flight. You should nap. Then we should get dinner, my treat. Then we should—”

“Talk.”

“Exactly.”

At his mention of it, your exhaustion (which you had been adamantly pushing back with nerves and adrenalin) resurfaces. He’s right; you always take the earliest flights you can manage, to get home as soon as possible, and yes you arrive to the airport way too early. You’re a woman with anxiety; it’s a given. But the last thing you want to do right now is part ways with Marc. A part of you believes that if he leaves, then you might chicken out. You might never let him back in…

“Stay?” you ask.

“For a nap?” he wonders, mouth stretching in a grin that reeks of fondness for you.

“Sure.”

“In your bed?”

You swallow past the sudden knot in your throat. Fuck, it feels so real. You’re going to have Marc in your bed tonight—for more than just a nap. You push the thoughts away with violence, feeling the way heat rises in your face at the thought alone. Come on, get it together! The way you’re pining for this guy is ridiculous, like you’re a virgin on her wedding night!

Fuck, but can you help it?

“Just sleep,” Marc says, interrupting your spiraling. “Then, dinner. Then…we’ll talk.”

Something inside you relaxes, your shoulders drifting away from where they had been climbing to your ears. Just sleep. You can do that. You’re certainly exhausted enough. A trail of you is formed throughout the apartment: your keys left in the dish by the door, shoes toed off at the shoe-rack, suitcase left haphazardly outside your bedroom door.

Inside, your room is as pristine as you had left it. The sheets are fresh. You have suddenly never been more tired in your life. Taking the last few steps to your bed—a full, larger than the twin you had suffered on during the winter—you collapse on top of the blankets. Who needs to be underneath them? You’re tired enough to sleep just like this.

But Marc pulls the blankets and the sheets back, working them free from beneath your body. He tucks you in, and he climbs into the bed on the other side. Peeking one eye open, you see that he is on his side, watching you. He grins when he catches you looking.

“Sleep tight,” he says sweetly.

God, you do.

When you wake up, the shadows have changed on the wall. It is early evening, your sleep schedule properly fucked. Marc has come to spoon you sometime during your sleep, and you relish the feel of his strong arm looped around your waist, his warm chest pressed flush against your back. The both of you had fallen asleep in your jeans and socks, and neither one cared. For a moment, you let yourself lay there, enjoying the intimacy. It’s easy to pretend you are lovers when he holds you like this.

Then his nose brushes a line up the side of your neck and his breath is hot against your ear as he whispers: “Sleep good?”

“Holy shit, I didn’t know you were awake.”

He snickers, unapologetic.

“Yes,” you say, twisting in his arms. “I slept great. But now I’m starv—...ing.”

As soon as you had turned in his arms, Marc’s eyes had gone molten. Outside, a car alarm goes off. There are horns honking. Someone plays music, but it doesn’t matter. Inside you room, the only sound is the heaving of near-silent breaths as you both lean precariously over the ledge of friendship—whatever rests below, who knows!

“I’m hungry too,” he says, innuendo in his words. His hand on your back traces a line down to the curve of your hip and then up to your ribs. His thumb barely brushes the space beneath your bra. He whispers your name.

He kisses you, a soft press of lips on lips. Again, heads tilted a little differently. Again, noses brushing in a way that has him smiling against your mouth. You part for a single heartbeat before he is leaning back in and kissing you deeper, tasting the seam of your lips with his tongue. Eager, you part your mouth and let him in. Fuck the uncomfortable angle of your neck—you’re kissing Marc Spector.

And God, what a kiss it is. He explores you in a way you hadn’t been explored before. Oh yes, you’d been plundered: had men whose tongues were like their cocks, thrusting away at your mouth, no finesse, no savoring of the moment. Marc kisses you like this is the first and last time he might get to. He traces the line of your teeth with his tongue. He softly nips your bottom lip. He coaxes your tongue into his mouth just to suck at it sweetly. Never have you felt so worshiped from a single kiss—nor so aroused.

Your hips rock against him, finding that he is already erect. You manage to loop one leg around his waist before he breaks the kiss, laughing breathlessly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he teases.

“Aren’t we—?” you blink.

“I said dinner first.”

“But I’m hungry,” you remind him, arching your back to drag your sex over his hard cock. You’ll never forget the sight of his eyes rolling back, his mouth going a little slack as he takes a shuddering breath.

He rolls you over and straddles your hips, hands finding your wrists and pinning you to the bed. His cock tents the seam of his jeans. Like this, you suddenly feel so small. Something inside you gets small and soft and says, ‘Be good for him. Do as he wants.’ You have long come to terms with the instincts inside you that make you crave this, knowing that they do not make you less of a modern woman but God, it’s still so embarrassing how easily you want to fold!

You argue instead, arching up to rub yourself against him, a spark in your eyes. A challenge. Marc’s own eyes narrow. He kneels up off of one of your legs, gripping your thigh to push it up-and-out, spreading you open for him, and God for a moment you think that you’ve convinced him, swayed him with just a wiggle of your hips, and the coming satisfaction will be (almost) as strong as your disappointment.

Instead, he brings his hand down on your pussy in a spank. You yelp. Muffled as it was through the denim, you could still feel the strength in his hand, and you are sensitive enough that it leaves you with a brief, stinging ache. He cups your sex with his palm, soothing it with the warmth of his hand.

“Dinner first. Where’s my good girl at? The girl who fell to her knees a thousand miles away without me even having to ask her, huh?”

You’d cover your face, if your hands were free. Suddenly you are shy and embarrassed at your own behavior. You don’t even allow yourself to rub up against his touch, light though it may be. Looking at him through your lashes, you say: “I’m sorry, I just…”

“You need it,” he says, thumb smoothing along the sensitive stretch of your inner thigh. “I understand, baby. Was I harsh?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No sir,” you whisper shyly.

His grin is broad, beatific. It turns teasing almost right away. He leans down and brushes his nose against yours before releasing your wrists and rolling off of you.

“I want to be just friends for just a while longer,” he admits in a whisper. “Throughout dinner. There’s something important I need to tell you.”

#marc spector x reader

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apothe-roses · 10 months

Text

I Wanna Ride

Modern Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Part 3

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Summary: the deal is struck between you and Aemond

Warnings: none, really

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I’ve been really busy with work, and this part was kinda hard to write. That’s also why this is shorter

Word Count: 1.6k

“And he didn’t tell you what he wanted?” Aly looks over at you while adding a slice of turkey to the sandwich she’s making? You shake your head. It had been a few days since everything went down, yet you were still trying to wrap your head around it all. The fact that Aemond would consider helping you at all—foreboding debt aside—just didn’t make sense to you.

“Why does he have to be so cryptic and spooky,” Aly asks, adding a generous amount of mayo to the sandwich.

“Beats me,” you reply. A shout startles you both out of your conversation. You and Aly turn your heads to the living room area. Benji Blackwood and his two friends Kermit and Oscar Tully—“the muppets” as Aly likes to call them—are sprawled across Aly’s couch, cursing at a video game they’re thoroughly engrossed in.

“Oi! You tryin’ to wake your dad up?” Aly calls to them. Currently, Aly’s brother Sam was down the hall, trying to sleep off a migraine. The boys cringe slightly.

“Sorry,” one of the Tully boys stage whispers back to Aly. She sighs. “Anyways, lunch is ready.” In a flash, the boys were on their feet, making their way to the kitchen. Aly pushes the sandwich with the mayo mountain towards Benji.

“Would you like some sandwich with your mayo?” She teases. Benji scowls back, but his expression quickly morphs into a grin. The boys make their way back to the couch. Aly turns to you.

“Listen, if he tries to pull anything with you, just say the word and I’ll kick his ass. Then I’ll call Cregan and he’ll also kick his ass.” You laugh in response. “What’s his deal with them anyways? Are they friends?”

“Acquaintances is more like it. They get along well enough, but Creg’s friendship with Jace sorta puts him on thin ice.”

“…Yeah, I still don’t get it.”

“Look, rich people friendships are weird, okay?” Aly explains. “Sometimes it’s better if you don’t ask questions and just go with it. I find the truth usually comes out on its own time.” She starts resealing containers and putting them in the fridge. You follow suit, deciding to take her advice. You two clean in silence for a couple minutes, until your phone buzzes. You look at the name on the screen, suddenly feeling very nervous.

You show the conversation to Aly. Her eyebrows raise, and she notes the tense expression on your face. “You know you don’t have to do this right? I’m sure I could find some time to give you lessons.”

You think about it for a moment. Aly would certainly be a nicer teacher than Aemond. But her Raven is much different than your Meraxes. Plus, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking for an excuse to learn more about the enigmatic, handsome Targaryen.

“I don’t want to cut into your time with your family. I know how important it is to you,” you tell her. “Besides, we’re all adults. I can handle a little tough love.”

“Alright then. Lemme know if you change your mind,” Aly relents, leaving the kitchen. You turn back to your phone to text Aemond.

Saturday morning comes far too soon, and you find yourself heading back to Aemond and Aegon’s shop in the passenger seat of Aly’s truck. One of the doors is rolle up, and you can see Aemond working on a bike. He lifts his head when he hears the engine.

“Well,” you breathe, “here goes nothing.”

“Remember, I’m only a text away,” Aly reassures you. You grin then exit out the passenger side door. Before you turn away, you see Aly glare at Aemond, pointing at her eyes then at him before making a u-turn and driving off. You take a deep breath, then walk over to Aemond. By now, he’s standing and wiping his hands with a cloth. He’s wearing the same outfit as when you two first met, only this time the coveralls are unzipped with the sleeves tied around his waist. The white singlet he’s wearing does nothing to hide the definition of his chest or arms. A few streaks of grime decorate his body, along with a few tattoos. He’s not overtly bulky, but he’s definitely in shape. His biceps flex slightly as he cleans his hands; you try not to bite your lip.

You both stand in awkward silence, waiting for someone to break it. You decide to bite the bullet yourself.

“Where’s Aegon,” you ask, peering into the garage, but there’s no sign of Aemond’s brother.

“He doesn’t typically come in on weekends,” Aemond answers. “Prefers to sleep in.”

“Oh.” You’d hoped he’d be here; his easygoing nature could’ve served as a good mediator.

“So I take it you’re interested?” It takes a moment for you to realize he meant the training.

“Oh I’m yeah. But I want to know what exactly you’re hoping to get out of this,” you reply quickly. Get your shit together you mentally chastise yourself. He’s not worth it.

“Hmm, yes. I’ve been going back and forth on what I want from you,” he starts, setting the rag on a nearby workbench. He turns his back on you.

“And you’ve decided on…” you prompt. He drums his fingers on the table, silent. Then…

“The Conqueror’s Gala. I need someone to go with me,” he states. That’s it? He needs a date to some fancy event? You thought you’d have to do something like clean his house or shine his bike for a month. Not this.

“If you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend, Targaryen-“

“No. Gods no. Nothing like that.” Aemond hastily replies. “My mother is always on my as about bringing a date. Normally, I’d just go with Helaena, but this year she’s decided to side with mum. They want me to prove that I’m capable of spending time with people I’m not directly related to.” His mouth presses into a thin line, and he averts his gaze. He starts drumming his fingers again. It looks like that’s something he does when he’s agitated. You let the silence simmer, silently enjoying the way his jaw clenched.

“Hmmm. I suppose I could spare one evening to get all dressed up and rub elbows with the Westerosi elite,” you sigh in pretend annoyance. He gives you a disgruntled look. “Trust me. It’s not the fun time you think,” he says sharply. Of course a cryptic like him wouldn’t enjoy social events. You try not to laugh at the thought.

“Well, fun or not, I’ll take it,” you tell him. His shoulders relax a little.

“Good,” he says stiffly. “Shall we?” he gestures his hand towards the bike. You realize it’s his own, the bronze coloring of the Vaghar catching the late morning light. You make your way over and take your seat. The bike has the same controls as your Meraxes, but his has extra side mirrors affixed.

Aemond leans over you, one hand on the handlebar and the other on the seat behind you. It takes all your willpower not to gawk at his arm.

“Alright,” Aemond says softly. “Now I want you to start the engine.”

You turn and look at him, incredulous. “You think I don’t know how to start a bike?”

Aemond levels a flare at you. “I’m just being thorough.” You scoff and roll your eyes, but you do as he says.

“Good,” he muses. He’s inches from your ear. The soft timbre of his voice sends a shudder through you. “Now what?” You choke out. You hate the effect he has on you.

“I want you to shift to first gear,” he instructs. All you can do is obey blindly.

“Good. Good,” he praises. He has you go through all the gears and how to break, giving a little praise each time you do something correct. It’s all painfully easy, and you should be insulted he’s making you prove such basic knowledge. Instead, you silently relish the rush of warmth you get with each praise. Hell, you’re almost tempted to get something wrong on purpose just to see how he’ll react? Would he gently explain the correction, or would he go back to being rude and insult you?

“Well then,” Aemond says, pushing off his bike. You mourn the loss of his warmth on your shoulder. “It seems you really do know the basics.” He drawls the last part. Oh yeah, that’s what it’s like when he insults you. You get off the bike, and he starts to wheel it into the garage. “But the Dragon Rally isn’t for the feint of heart. You’ll need to be able to ride long distances in potentially rough weather. You need to be adaptable, ready to make a decision at a moment’s notice. And that’s not even including the Rally itself.”

“What happens at the Rally?” you ask.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Aemond replies, turning his back on you. You scoff. “Yes. I would. That’s why I asked”

He smirks. “All you need to know is that you need to build up your endurance. I’d like to take you on a ride through the Kingswood when you’re next available. Once you’re comfortable, we’ll take more challenging treks. Sound good?”

You nod your head. At least you won’t have to have weird conversations with him when riding.

“Good. Check your schedule, and give me your next available date,” he says before pulling the garage door closed in your face.

You stand there in stunned silence. What the fuck is up with this guy?

You text Aly, and a few minutes later her truck pulls up to the sidewalk.

“Well that was quick,” she observes as you put on your seatbelt.

“You’re telling me,” you reply, looking back at the garage as Aly pulls away.

You were confused. You were intrigued. Something told you this was only the tip of the iceberg that was Aemond Targaryen.

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Taglist: @valeskafics @carriellie @let-love-bleeds-red @wintrr13 @queenofshinigamis @seabasscevans @fangirlninja67 @toodlesxcuddles @almostpurplelady @goldenpanda16 @aemonds-fire @yentroucnagol @tssf-imagines @n4tforlife @mooncalvin @julczimozart @kezibear

Bold means I couldn’t tag you

#Aemond Targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #modern aemond x reader #modern!aemond x reader #I Wanna Ride Aemond x Reader

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keelt9 · 24 days

Text

Chapter 3

Masterlist

After 5 minutes watching people come and go, I lost track of time. The steps I take forward are the half I walk back; the entrance was already further than the first time I stopped. I’ve told Liam I spent the weekend in the apartment, he needed to make a quick trip home to set a few things with the team, this is the kind of meetings he didn’t want to do in the distance.

“Come on dad! We are already late!” A small kid keeps pulling his father's hand as they run to the entrance. The noise inside confirms that everything is set for the opening ceremony.

My hands tremble, as I hold the name tag, tapping the floor waiting for someone to answer the phone. “Y/N you better have a good reason.” I called a half-sleep Mia; she knows absolutely nothing about this, and I bet she will forgive me with the promise I tell her everything when I feel ready.

“Fuck! Are you really in Silverstone? Like right now?!” She is fully awake now, so she can easily distinguish the sounds she can hear in the background. “Wow, what are you waiting for?”

“What do you mean?” I hear her bluffs.

“Go, have fun. Go, watch the race when it finishes, go to a nice place, have lunch by the night you’ll be at the apartment, safe and sound.” Mia clearly thinks my problem is having fun, and she is right but not totally in this case.

“Y/N that shoulder won't get worse if you have fun, actually it could be helpful, you know relaxing the muscles, the br…”

I laughed at her tendency of speaking without thinking first. “Mia you beat around the bush.”

“Yes, right, now go, and don't call me unless you are inside your apartment late at night, ok? Love you, bye.”

So disrespectful to her older sister.

I take a deep breath and walk with the last persons arriving to the track, I show my name tag and one of the boys with a neon yellow jacket conducts me through hallways, rooms where a bunch of people are coming and go; someones with casual clothes another with clothes of each team; I startle for the screaming of people and the sound of the cars.

“Strident, right?” The boy smiles with fascination coming from his eyes.

The last room we passed made me realize, it wasn't a simple pass like Max told me, I started to see the navy blue color, red and white all over the place.

“Here.” The boy gives me a quick tour around the room full of unknown people. “And here is where you can watch the race without problems, have fun!” Those were the last words he told me, until he apparently remembered something.

“Here.” He gives me the cap is been carrying all this time in his hand. “It should be illegal, you won't have anything on the team.” That makes me giggle, I take some air and start to calm.

The race passed without changes, Max won with 7 seconds ahead the second place; it's totally different to hear the commotion outside, the screams while you see him jumping to his team, raising his hands in victory.

“Let's go, for the award ceremony.” A woman smiles at me and walks with me; as we get close to the track the noises become stronger. We reached a place where a lot of people were waiting at the other side of the fence, clearly people of the team and relevant people. Slowly the pilots enter to the higher platform where the ceremony will take place, Max enters at least, smiling big.

He looks out of this world with his race suit on, his blue eyes shining bright and that soft shade of pink in his face.

He listens carefully to his national anthem, celebrating getting wet in chapmange clearly loving every moment. After taking some photos he seemed to be looking for something on the ground but he was called one more time and conducted to the back of the stage.

Slowly people start dispersing all over the place. It’s time to leave, the phase two of Mia’s plan concluded, I start to thinking where I could go and have a nice lunch-dinner meal when I heard someone shouting my name

A blond girl clearly has a sight of what I look like, because when I slightly turn around her expression is a total relief.

“Oh thank god, you're still here.” The girl extends her hand and smiles at me. “Oh, I’m Violet, part of the team Red Bull. This way please.”

Violet didn’t give me the chance to answer, just walked beside me explaining they looked for me before the race for I could be in the garage but they couldn’t find me. I told her what actually happened and smiled when she heard I actually watched all the post race ceremony.

“Max will be relieved he almost went and looked for you by himself.” Violet dropped those words so casually that I almost let it pass. She guided me to different places until I reached the garage where cameramen, photographers and reporters came out, just people from each team there.

“Have you seen Max?” Violet asks as we enter the garage. I felt out of place, maybe it was my anxiety running through my body but I feel the multiple eyes on me, doesn’t bring me good memories lately. “Thanks.”

Violet smiles at me apparently realizing my uncomfortably. “Don’t worry, no one of us bite.” I laughed, making me feel a little bit at ease. We start to walk one more time as she keeps me closer. “One more room and we’ll b…”

“THERE YOU ARE!” Max appears almost crashing with us, his suit stuck at the level of his waist, his hair tossed in different directions, dripping in what I bet is a mixture between Red Bull and champagne, still with a warm smile on his face. “Thanks Violet.”

She nods and puts her hand over my arm. “A pleasure, nice to meet you Y/N, anything you need.” Leaving us in a less crowded room.

“You get a cap, nice.” Max lifts the visor a little bit. Probably he didn’t know but he makes me feel happier, more than I wish. “Still, wrong number.”

I adjusted the cap one more time, still feeling shy. “What? 11 it’s a nice number.” He rolls his eyes.

“I can mend that.” He points with his head to the hallway behind him, as a sign that I should go after him; I choke my head, still he didn’t give me time to react because he grabs my left wrist and pulls me so I can follow him.

When Max left my wrist, we arrived at a more private room, no one inside, there were a couple of small couches, a small center table, on top a black bag.

I grab my wrist feeling the comfy sensation he left.

“Open it.” Max gives me the bag. First, the only thing I could see was a blue navy clothing, after pulling out I see, a T-shirt. However it wasn’t a Red Bull shirt, I actually recognized it when I lifted it in front of me.

“Is this?” My scoff didn’t leave me ending the sentence, smiling big at him. “You remember!”

Two weeks ago we were talking about “uniforms” and the fact I don’t feel comfortable with the thousand of logos around and how lucky I feel when we used one, just three of them were all over our T- shirts, as the talked evolve I mention in a joking way I didn’t mind wearing one of his merchandising with the lion in the center, especially the blue one.

“That’s not all, see right sleeve.” I don’t know who is more excited, me or him.

A target, with all right the colors, yellow, red, blue, black and white, a cute and small target.

“NO WAY!” I scream and jump to hug him, a natural impulse from me but apparently leaving him frozen. “Sorry, sorry.” I split, grabbing the shirt tightly in my hands. “It’s amazing, thank you so much.”

After I lift my face one more time, that shade of pink turns softly into a red one.

A soft knock on the wall distracts us. “Max, last one, please.” A young woman appears and leaves as she comes with an apologetic smile.

“Hey, give a couple of minutes and we leave all right?” Max starts to walk but stops when I open my mouth to ask what he means with “we.”

“What? Do you actually think I will invite you and then let you leave like that?” He giggles and shakes his head after my plain <Yes> “The brochures are for you to pick a restaurant, so we can go eat. I’m starving.” He rubs his belly a little bit.

“Max, wait…” I pursued him but already a couple of people were waiting for him.

“I’ll be with you, don’t worry.” Max just smirks softly and points at the shirt I’m squeezing tightly in my left hand. “You have a small me.” He refers to the Lion in the shirt.

The reference makes a slight smile on my face. After he left, I reached one of the couches; I lay down quickly, causing piddling pain in my shoulder, but my hand goes to my chest at the level of my heart.

<Boom, boom, boom> A crazy heart rate, surely not for the eccentric day.

Leaving the paddock was easier than getting in; I waited for 25 minutes, then Max entered the room one more time fully changed, dry with casual clothes; as we walked to the exit he received the last instructions and I suspect he was barely listening because just nodded with a serious face.

I chose “The Nook.” A cozy restaurant in a quiet street on the outskirts of the city, far away from the spotlights, hustle and prying eyes. We enjoy a calm dinner talking about our news in the weeks we haven't seen each other; he keeps bother me about how hard it is to get a message from me, the reason why he used rustic methods for inviting me.

My wherefore is simple, I don’t want to bother him when he is probably on the other side of the world and it’s late at night.

“You never bother me, the opposite, you make me feel at ease.” A proud smile appears on my face as I take a bite of the brownie I order.

The buzzing in my purse interrupts us. <Liam> reads in the call ID. I apologize to him and stand for picking up, almost choking with my food.

“Hello, is everything all right?” Liam asked but his voice sounded uncertain, almost like he didn’t want to speak to me.

“That went wrong, huh?” I ask him, leaning my back against the wall. I hear him taking a deep breath and clearing his throat.

“It’s not bad, they are just as nervous as all of us.” I low my head.

After the competition where I came out with the injury, all the people who are responsible for me and the team I conformed talked to me. They met me when I was 9 years old and took me under his wings; but the first impressions after the injury didn’t promise good things. They sent me with Anton with the hopes I fully recovered, but their eyes told us a different thing.

“Liam…” I whisper, feeling a knot in my throat.

“They will go in one month, want to see in person how you are, after that we will deliberate if you are still in or…”

“Take me off another year.” I can perfectly picture the meeting, my team, the coaches and the tension that could surrender the office.

“We won’t let that happen, ok? We are advanced in your rehabilitation. Anton told us that, at this pace, big things will happen in one month.” This time Liam's voice is cheerful and optimistic. “Y/N we don’t surrender, we fight and we hit the ten, remember that.”

I don’t realize a tear slips off my cheek; the truth is I’m afraid, I’m frightening actually.

“We’ll do it.” If I start to feel down I won't get anything so I clean my face and take a deep breath.

“That’s the Y/N I know.” I can imagine his proud smile. “Are you all right?”

I turn around and see Max eating his fruit pie, and giggle. “I am, right now I am.”

“Great, I’ll be back tomorrow night and I’ll see you for the session on Tuesday, ok?” I laughed seeing Max stain his jacket with a grape that fell from his spoon.

“Say hi to my family, please.” Max turned around, looking side to side and caught me observing him with a wide open smile on my face, he hid his face between his hands, laughing.

“Oh count with that. Y/N, I don’t know what you are doing but whatever it’s lovely hear you like this.”

After I got back to the table we talked until the night started to fall over us. I'd better leave or Anton will kill me if I miss my session tomorrow.

“I’ll have to go.” I say to Max playing with the napkin between my fingers. “I had an incredible day Max, thank you.”

Max looks at me with those mischievous blue eyes. “Hm, what about if I drive you home?” He has gone crazy, even Milton Keynes, it's not that far, is still a long drive.

“No, I mean… You have to rest, it’s ok, I know how to get home.” Max stretches his arms.

“I have more than a day for that, I’ll promise, I will take my time to get you safe and sound.”

#fic #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #max verstappen imagine

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