childoftheriver · 2 years ago
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Howdy boys
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ssaaaronmontgomery · 2 months ago
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hi honey!! im absolutely feral for dbf hotch so sorry in advance lol 😵‍💫
anyways imagine relaxing with him outside by the pool, and you go to bother him. he's sitting on a lawn chair all spread out, smoking a cigarette and as you come up to sit on his lap he blows the smoke in your face. as you're trying to wave the smoke away you frown and ask him if you could try a puff. ofc he says no but eventually he relents. you're against his chest and he lifts your chin and taps your cheek saying "open" and slides the cigarette in. he guides you, and tells you to inhale and hold it, before exhaling. 😮‍💨😩
A Day Off, a Hot Man, and a Cigarette
Warnings: dbf!hotch, cigarettes/smoking, age gap (both adults), pet names (honey and sweetheart), Aaron being a sexy slut all spread out like that mm mm MM😵‍💫😮‍💨, please let me know if I missed anything!
Word count: 925
Pairing: dbf!hotch x gn!reader
A/n: Oh yes yes yes yes 😵‍💫😮‍💨. Hotch smoking is just 😮‍💨 an idea I love to think about. He's the type of man that just looks so hot like that.
Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @criminalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @canuck-eh @luvehotch @callm3c0nfus3d @ivyflowers13 @randomuserrs
Hotch tags: @14buddy22 @htchnr
Let me know if you want to be added to my tags 🫶
Minors please DNI****
Aaron is outside by the pool enjoying his day off. It's finally a nice day out after the near constant rain of the last week and he's spending it at your father's house, which you are incredibly happy about. It's just you and him right now and even though you know he's there for relaxation, you can't help bothering him, not that he minds it at all. He actually likes being bothered by you; by other people...maybe not so much.
He's smoking a cigarette and he looks damn good doing it. The way his chest rises when he breathes in and the way he looks when the smoke leaves his lips has you staring at him. It's almost like you're seeing it in slow motion.
You step outside and walk over to him. He looks so hot like this. His hair is slightly messy and he's spread out comfortably. You sit yourself down on his lap and one of his hands finds its home on your waist. He gives you a small smile which you return with a brighter one.
"Are you enjoying your day off?" You ask him and he subconsciously rubs your side as he looks at you. He nods and takes another drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke out to answer you. It gets in your face and you try to wave it away. "It's been great. Especially when I get to look at you all day." He winks and smirks at you a little. You're still frowning at the smoke he blew in your face and your eyes follow the hand holding the cigarette.
You barely acknowledge his answer before asking him another question. "Can I try it?" You glance at him and his eyebrows are raised now before going slightly furrowed. You've never asked to try it before. "No, honey. I don't think you should." You pout at his words, frowning deeper now. "Why not? You're doing it." "Because I said so. I don't want you starting a bad habit, sweetheart." You huff and lean forward against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. You understand his point, but you don't have to like it.
Aaron takes one more drag and thinks about your question some more now that you're pouting and huffing at his reluctance to let you try it out. "Please?" You murmur. He goes back and forth on it for a bit and he finally decides to let you. He breaks.
"Fine. You can try." He says with a small hint of a stern tone, but it is mostly soft. You perk up slightly, not expecting him to change his mind.
"Open." Aaron says after gently lifting your head and tapping your cheek. You're surprised because he'd been so reluctant just moments ago. You do as he says, like you always do, and you part your lips for him. "Good." He speaks quietly and slides the cigarette between your lips. "Close and inhale slowly." He directs you and you follow his instructions. You inhale the smoke, the taste of it is horrible and the feeling in your lungs and throat makes you cough.
Aaron rubs your back and shushes you. "Shh. It's okay, try again. Maybe inhale a little less." His voice is gentle. Your eyes sting with a couple of tears and you blink them away. Your throat burns a tiny bit, but you do it again anyway. You take his suggestion and you don't breathe in as much smoke this time. "Good job; now hold it in." He keeps his hands on you, making sure you're steady and keeping you close after removing the cigarette from your mouth. You keep your eyes on his and wait for him to tell you what to do next. "Hold it a little longer..." His hand moves to your cheek and his thumb rubs the soft skin there, the cigarette between two of his fingers.
"Now exhale." And you do so with a slight cough, but it's not nearly as bad as before. The smoke goes into his face and he doesn't bother waving it away like you had done before. He smiles at you and it nearly takes on the shape of a grin. "There you go. You did very well, sweetheart. But I don't want you doing this all the time, understand?" He praises you and then sets a stern rule for you. He knows he can't really control it if you do start up a habit of doing this, but he knows you like to listen to him. You nod your head. "I know I know. I won't. But...I will say, you look really good like this, Aaron. You look hot. You always do, but there's something about you like this...I can't explain it." He chuckles a little and squeezes your side affectionately. He thanks you shyly. It's not often that he doesn't know what to say to someone, but you seem to bring that side out in him more than he thought was possible.
He finishes off the cigarette, which you can't help but watch him do so, and puts it out before pulling you against his chest again. He wasn't expecting this to be something you liked about him, but he's glad he knows now. He's always finding out about these little things he does that you like and find attractive in him, things he would never think someone could find sexy. You're always surprising him and he is always looking forward to those surprises.
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reareaotaku · 10 months ago
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No Fun Babysitting
Summary: Greg's mother gets him and Manny a babysitter, because Rodrick is 'too busy' with Band practice, and she wants a reliable sitter while her and Frank go out. Though, Rodrick's plans change when he finds out who the babysitter is. Pairings: Rodrick x Fem! Reader [Since my Rodrick posts always tend to do well, here's another you Rodrick lovers!] God this probably so dumb lol. So sorry if it's bad lol
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"A babysitter?" Greg looked at his mother like she was crazy. He was 13, he didn't need a babysitter! Maybe Manny, but certainly not him. "Why do I need a babysitter?"
His mother, Susan, finishes drying off a plate, before turning towards him, "Well, Rodrick," She gestures to Rodrick who was sitting at the dining room table eating a bowl of cereal, "has a gig and I need someone reliable to watch you and Manny while me and your father are out."
"Doesn't Gramma usually watch Manny?" Rodrick asked, since they had never offered to pay HIM to watch the kids.
"She's busy."
"Why can't I watch Manny?"
Susan laughs, causing Greg to frown and roll his eyes.
"Oh, Greg. You have not shown me you are responsible enough to care for a goldfish, much less your little brother. Besides, she's supposed to be really good, her name is Y/n."
Rodrick almost spit out his food when he heard the name of Y/n and he was very quick to clarify, "Y/n? Like Y/n L/n, Y/n?"
Susan hums, before rubbing her chin and nodding, "Yes I believe so."
"She's going to be here?"
"Why do you care?" Greg quick asked, suspicious.
"I don't," Rodrick quickly justifies, trying to cover up his previous excitement. He quickly gets up and heads to his room, completely forgetting about the food.
Susan and Greg watched as he left, while the latter grew suspicious.
---
"Thank you so much for coming at such late notice," Susan hands you Manny, who wiggled in her grasp.
"It's really no problem, Mrs. Heffley. I hope you and your husband have a good night out."
"Me, too," She jokes, before shaking her head, "Our numbers are on the fridge and if we don't answer, there's the number of the restaurant...."
You nod your head, listening as she goes on and on about safety and such. When she finally left, you waved her off before carrying Manny into the living room. "So, what do you like to do, Manny?"
Before he could answer, Rodrick quickly rushes in, his guitar hanging off his back. He was covered in sweat and his hair was dismayed/a mess. He pushes his hand through his hair, before looking at you in feigned confusion.
"Oh, Y/n right? I didn't know you were going to be here."
"What are you talking about? Mom sai-"
Rodrick quickly got his shoe and threw it at Greg, hitting him smack in the face. He [Rodrick] pushes inbetween you and Manny, leaning on his hand, "Hey."
"Hi?" You looked past him, towards Manny, who was pushing on Rodrick's back.
"What.. uh, brings you around?"
"Um... What do you mean?"
He turns to face forward , leaning back on his hands, "Uh, you know, ummm...." He clicks his tongue, before looking back at you, "You like music, right?"
"Everyone likes music."
"Right!" He stands up pointing to you, Manny finally looking relieved that Rodrick had moved from his spot.
Manny gets down from the seat and pulls out a puzzle from under the table. You watch him closely as Rodrick still continues to talk.
"I'm in a band, you should come listen."
"Uhuh... Band?" You now looked at him when registering his words.
"Oh, yeah. We're called the Loaded Diaper [Löded Diper]."
"Loaded Diaper?"
"Yeah."
"When you hear them, you'll understand the name," Greg jokes, before hiding under the table when seeing Rodrick's glare.
You look at Greg, before humming and nodding, "I see. Ummm... What kind of music do you guys play?"
"Rock."
"Oh, yeah, that makes sense... Um... Maybe I can come some time."
"Yeah, you should. Just let me know when you're free."
"Yeah, will do."
He walks away from the living room and out the front door, but not before fist bumping, thrilled to have a 'date' kind of.
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cyberstrm · 1 year ago
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age gap
dr greg house x gn!reader
cws: legal age-gap, teasing, flirting
a/n: i love men thrice my age
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as you entered house's office, you tried to control your expression and heartbeat. chase, cameron and foreman greeted you as you sat down, cameron sending you a smirk and sideways glance. you glared at her, willing her not to say anything.
last night had been...interesting. you and cameron had gone drinking, you got wasted, and admitted you were completely in love with your boss, house. you fell asleep, woke up feeling a bit crap, then remembered what you'd said, and consequently felt incredibly embarrassed. you trusted cameron, but didn't trust yourself not to accidentally reveal yourself with blushing cheeks or avoided eye-contact.
house entered the room, and discussion on the latest case began. you contributed when you could, and listened when you couldn't, trying to ignore house's flirty comments and glances when he thought you weren't looking.
he dished out assignments for the case, leaving you to do some tests on a sample. you stood up and collected your things, before house approached you and pushed you back into your chair with the tip of his cane.
"i-i....what are you doing?" you stammered.
"l/n, you're acting weird and i need to know why, or i can't trust you to do your job."
the statement hung in the air for a moment. you avoided his gaze as he stared you down.
"i'm fine, house." you replied finally, still not looking at him.
"then why," he began, leaning forward on his cane, then, using his other hand, he used his finger to lift your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes. "won't you look at me."
you felt your face warm at his touch. "i-i..."
"oh, y/n," he began, smirking. the use of your first name didn't help with your blushing. he tilted his head and looked at you with reproachful eyes. "i'm far too old for you."
"what do you...?" you began, but it was no use. house continued to smirk down at you.
"i mean, i'm almost twice your age, but maybe you like that. maybe that gets you off." he teased. you stood up quickly, feeling incredibly embarrassed.
"a-and what, you get off on teasing people?" you quip back.
"just you." he answers. you'd had enough of this teasing and being messed about, so turned to leave with a huffy sigh. before you reached the door, a hand grabbed your wrist. "i'm-...sorry." he mumbled. you were taken aback.
"what?"
"sorry. i didn't mean to upset you. i'm a bit lousy with...feelings."
"....feelings?"
house looked at you with a pained look. "...but it doesn't matter, like i said, i'm too old for you."
"and i like that," you smirked, feeling flutters in your stomach. "like you said."
house smirked. "so...if i asked you out to dinner...?"
"i'd say yes." you smiled, relief and joy washing over you. "and if i asked for a kiss..?"
"i'd say you're not doing your job." he replied with a drawl. "go do the sample."
you rolled your eyes. "you can decide the restaurant."
you went to leave, but house had one more thing for you, and pulled you back, before pressing a soft kiss on your lips. and another. and another.
"now you can go do your job."
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hxlda-hxlda · 11 months ago
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“Of course not, Sirius, we’ve been married for years.” 
famous interview au oneshot thingy inspired by @sebbianas post which you can find here!!!! read the idea and could NOT get it out of my head until she was sitting in a google doc, and now here. enjoy:
“Now, since you came out in that viral Instagram post…” 
Sirius sighs, doing nothing to hide his exhaustion for what he knows is to come. 
The original intention behind the whole fucking thing was to stop the constant questions. The:  
‘Sirius, you wore a skirt to that event so who are you dating because, clearly, the two have to be correlated?’, ‘Sirius, you’ve always been a bit different’, ‘Sirius!’, Sirius–’, ‘Sirius…’ 
He’d hoped—stupidly, naively—that to get rid of the ambiguity would get rid of the incessant wondering. Sure, he fucked men, yes, he wore eyeliner and skirts, no the two weren’t really related, now can we please move the fuck on? 
No. No, we apparently cannot move the fuck on. The questions and the speculation and, and, and; it’s all still fucking there. 
“Sirius, there’s been talk of a relationship with bass player Remus Lupin for a while now. New rumours are sparking since the two of you have been spotted together a lot lately.” 
They’re both thinking of those pap pictures leaving the bar last month. 
“We were wondering if you could give us the inside scoop?” Greg is staring at him like he’s asking something new, like Sirius is actually very eager to share with the world the complexities of his relationships, as if it has anything to do with his modelling. It doesn’t, if you were wondering. Fucking men has nothing to do with a runway, either, actually. “Really, what is going on between the two of you?”
Sirius has been given press training many, many times, to field these kinds of questions. His agent, Gideon, had him memorise all the correct responses back to front, upside down. Curveball questions, sneaky implications, you name it; Sirius knows how he should respond to this. Hell, it’s on a fucking flash card.
His gut response, the thing Sirius is suddenly incredibly eager to do, is definitely not on a flash card.
However. But, but, and hear him out:
By fucking god, he was bored.
Greg had asked the same ten questions every other interviewer of the last year had asked with the same glint in his eyes as every other interviewer of the last year. Fame was great, but nobody told him it would be this goddamn boring. Repetitive. So many 'yes's and 'no's and 'wouldn't you like to know's.
So, Sirius proceeds, entirely disobeying those oh-so-holy flash cards.
“It would be an honour to give you the scoop, Greg, my dear,” Sirius says with a grin, shoving his hand into his back pocket. 
The interviewer’s eyes light up over his mic. 
“So-” When Sirius pulls out his phone, the glint is dimmed by confusion. “What-” 
“Why don’t we ask him right now?” 
There were strict rules about this, phones when live, phones during interviews, etcetera, etcetera, blah, blah. Sirius knew them all as well (see: a different set of flash cards). Sorry Gideon, Sirius thinks as he goes straight to his Favourites. He isn’t sorry. 
“Ask… who?” 
Sirius just winks. The call is already on its second ring. 
On the fourth, Sirius is almost worried Remus won’t actually pick up, but not really. Remus always picks up. 
Well, he always picks up when Sirius rings. Once, Marlene had called fifteen times in five minutes before Remus had responded two hours later with a ‘what?’ text. The man stuck true to his self-proclaimed Luddism, after all. 
On the fifth ring Greg is looking sceptical. Sirius knows Remus is also working right now. He’d mentioned a meeting with some producer. He remains confident nonethless. 
On the sixth ring, the call clicks as it is answered. A beat. And then: 
“What?” 
Remus sounds entirely unenthused to be answering a call at this moment, voice sullen. Sirius grins anyway, thrilled he’s picked up at all. As if he wouldn’t. As if he doesn’t always. 
“And hello to you, too.” 
“Aren’t you meant to be on that radio thing right now?” 
“We are, in fact, live at this very moment.” Sirius glances back to Greg who, despite being the host, has immediately lost all of his perceived-control. He’s watching Sirius blankly, only vaguely piecing together the fact that it is famed, award winning, world’s greatest (not that Sirius is at all biassed) bass player Remus Lupin’s voice coming through Sirius’ phone. Sirius smirks amusedly at Greg before turning back to the conversation at hand. One that finally fucking matters. “Good to know you’re listening in and supporting me, as always.” 
“Believe it or not, I have better things to do right now.” 
“You wound me, Moons.” 
That nickname did wonders on Twitter when it first became known, Sirius having slipped and referred to Remus as Moony in some other interview some other time. There's a ship name now. There are fanfictions. Sirius reads them aloud as dramatically as he can muster (which is, believe him, very) at the most inopportune times. Usually when Remus is busy, just to watch that cute little frown line in his forehead appear. 
“Is there a point to you interrupting my work, and also national radio, with this call?” 
“What if I just wanted to speak to you?” 
“I will hang up right now.” 
A lie. He never hangs up first. 
Sirius sighs again, another exhausted thing. “They want to know if we’re dating.” 
“Who?” 
“They. Everyone. The world. Greg.”
Sirius shoots the host another look, whose look of momentary shock has dissolved into interest. Hunger. This is the scoop, apparently. Like the both of them, Sirius and Remus, haven’t already been asked this question to death. 
“Greg?”
“Y’know, the guy with the grating voice on the station that plays the same five pop songs on repeat.” Gideon is going to kill him for that one. Sirius sends another silent apology he does not mean. 
“Ah, Greg.” 
Greg is frowning now. Sirius grins again. 
“So? C’mon Moons, tell us. They’re all waiting eagerly. They want to know,” he repeats.
“They always want to know,” Remus replies bluntly. 
“They’re in an extra persistent mood today.” 
When Sirius cuts his third look at Greg, he has the audacity to look entirely unapologetic, as if Sirius’ public life as a model translates to that of his private life. As if it makes total sense to badger him for months—no, scratch that, years—on who Sirius is and isn’t fucking, and whether or not, god forbid, they aren’t a female. 
“You can’t tell them yourself?” Remus’ voice distracts him from his angry spiral of thoughts. 
He could, of course. He has, a million fucking times, given an answer. Sirius even has his flash cards, for fuck’s sake. But this is much more fun. 
“Just answer the damn question, Lupin.” 
“You didn’t ask a question, Black.” 
Sirius rolls his eyes, incredibly aware this is dragging through the interview’s very minimal time slot. Good. 
“Are we dating, Remus?” he asks seriously (ha). 
A moment of silence. Sirius holds the phone closer to the mic, closer to his own ear. He can’t help himself, he wants to know how Moony will handle this as well. Then: 
“Of course not, Sirius, we’ve been married for years.” 
Greg’s eyes widen to saucers. Sirius keeps his face neutral, an impressive feat that would rival even Regulus’ own acting skills, if he says so himself, and Reg won a Tony last year. 
“Ah, how could I forget?” Sirius says instead of breaking into the laughter that he so desperately wants to roll into a heap with. “My husband.” 
“Truly, how could you? Should we consider divorce now?” Remus replies, voice as indistinguishably sullen as always. Sirius knows he’s smiling with his eyes, he can hear it. 
“Now that would make the papers.” 
“Certainly… Is that all?” 
“Yes, yes, go do your music-y things now.” 
Sirius can hear the eye roll as well. “Fine.” 
Sirius hangs up. He tucks the phone back into his pocket, taking his time. Then, then, he looks back up at Greg. The interviewer is a picture of shock, maybe a touch of confusion; wide eyes, jaw loose with a mouth that hangs, equally wide. 
“Well, Greg, how was that for a scoop?” Sirius raises a single, manicured eyebrow. 
“Wa– Was he being serious?” the man all but splutters. 
“What? No, of course not, I’m Sirius, silly.” 
“That’s not–” 
“Greg! I’m offended! Do you forget the names of all your guests? We’ve been talking for almost an hour now!” 
The longest fucking hour of Sirius’ life, mind you. But the rest of it goes by much faster and much more pleasantly, as Greg struggles to move on from that little show. It makes the dressing down from Gid all the more worth it. 
And by the time Sirius manages to check his phone again, emerging from hell (or Studio C, call it what you want) hours later, #wolfstar is already trending on Twitter. He screenshots it, sends it to Remus. 
pads !!!!!!!!!   
look what uve done  u menace 
MOONY ❤️‍🔥😍🌕
Fake news.  Lily and I are planning to run away together, actually.  
Sirius huffs a laugh. Sure, fake news.
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kingofpopmj · 5 months ago
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Can’t Go On Without You By My Side
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Summary: You visit your boyfriend of two years on his BAD world tour. The excitement of witnessing him perform live is quickly tainted the moment she walks in.
Pairing: Michael Jackson x Reader
Warnings: SMUT
Requested: no
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*Y/N's POV*
Michael and I were finally able to plan for me to visit him on tour. I was lucky enough to get a week and a half off of work and we were determined to make the most of it. Michael had insisted on picking me up from the airport even though he was technically supposed to be at the venue. We arrived about ten minutes after the show was scheduled to begin, but thankfully, no one called us out on it.
I stood off to the side, watching Michael completely own the stage. The way he mastered his onstage persona was breathtaking. His smile was so bright. I took a moment to discreetly admire his outfit, clinging to his body tighter with each passing song.
“He’s sexy, isn’t he?” A breathy voice sounded from beside me, interrupting my silent gawking. I guess I wasn't being as discreet as I thought.
“Um—” I looked to my left, making eye contact with a very tall woman. She was beautiful. A tight black dress clung to her body so tight it almost looked painted on. I know exactly who this is.
“The correct answer is yes. He can do it all, if you know what I mean.” My hands clenched into fists with such force I could feel my rings digging into my skin. “He’s absolutely the sexiest man alive. I’m so exhausted, he kept me up all night this past week. That's not a complaint by the way. He is so worth it.”
I couldn’t put together enough words to form a complete sentence. Quite frankly, all my focus was on holding myself back. I couldn’t catch a case right now. Michael might be cheating on me and this woman is certainly a whore. That was that. I couldn’t change fact. If I went off and beat the living shit out of some groupie it would ruin the rest of my life. I couldn’t let the anger control my behavior. He betrayed me, but I refuse to let him see how much it really broke me.
“I’m so sorry, I get all misty watching him. Don’t we all?” She laughed, squeezing my shoulder, little did she know she was dangerously close to losing those boney little fingers. “My name is Tatiana, and you are?” She held out her hand, batting her eyelashes so hard I thought she’d fly away. At least I hoped she would. Maybe over a large body of water, perhaps shark infested waters.
“Hi, I’m Y/N.” She let out an exaggerated gasp, slapping her palm against her mouth.
“You’re the girlfriend! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.” She quickly ran off leaving me standing there alone with this feeling in my stomach that I couldn’t describe.
I glanced around the immediate area, seeing no one else near me felt worse somehow. I don't know many people here other than Michael. I became distracted as he sang Rock With You, little did he know he was moments away from getting rocked. Y/N, no, stop. I release the tension in my hands, shaking it off, trying to let go of the violent thoughts swirling in my mind. Besides how therapeutic it was right now, it wasn’t productive. I need some air, a drink, a hitman? No. Air, I need air.
The clicks of my heels echoed through the halls as I headed towards an unknown destination. I'm probably lost, but that’s a problem for future Y/N.
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*Michael's POV*
As Rock With You came to an end, I noticed Y/N disappear behind the curtain. Exactly, two songs have gone by since then and still no sign of her. During the brief outfit change after Thriller, before intermission, I notice Greg, my music director mouthing something to me.
"What?" I mouthed back, scratching my forehead. He's terrible at this.
"Your girl." Okay, I got that. I nodded, shrugging slightly as if to say and what about her.
"Mad."
I couldn’t play charades any longer, as the lights dimmed and the band took over the stage I snuck behind the large equipment to get closer to him.
"What happened?"
"I saw Tatiana talking to her. She did not look too happy after that brother."
I nodded slowly, processing his words before walking off. I should be taking advantage of my break, but I couldn’t relax not knowing where my girlfriend was.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing all the way back here?”
"Nothing I just needed some air." She said lowly, avoiding my eyes.
"Are you okay?" I moved towards her, cupping her face in my hands. The look in her eyes answering my question, but I wanted to hear it from her.
"Yeah, well, no, but it can wait until after the show."
"Are you sure?" I asked and she nodded in response. "Now, can you please come back with me? I perform better knowing my beautiful woman is watching me."
She accompanied me as I changed into my next outfit. She helped me slip into my coat, but my excitement was short lived, because I could sense her sadness. What is going on?
"I love you, baby." I watched closely as she struggled with her response, she began biting on her bottom lip, her eyes growing glossy. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Her voice cracked and she quickly turned away from me.
"I know you Y/N. You're hurting and I'd like to know what's going on so I can help."
"S—She—" Y/N broke down right, her body was shivering as she tried to compose herself. I felt less than helpless.
"Who?" I tried comforting her, but she brushed me off, moving away from me all together.
A quick knock on the door, signaling that intermission was coming to a close and I needed to get back out there.
"I'll let them know I need more time. I'll be right back."
"No!"
"You're crying. Y/N, baby, I'm not leaving you."
"I'm alright. Please, can we just talk about this later?"
I didn't want to agree, but she wasn't asking, she was practically begging. I intertwined our fingers, keeping her close as I weaved my way through the backstage area.
"Please, stand here and watch the rest of the show. It would mean the world to me." I smiled at her and kissed her temple as I hugged her.
"I'll be right here." She reaffirmed my confidence. Then, she grabbed my collar, pulling me into her lips. Her tongue was pure magic. Normally, I'd be embarrassed about public affection, but with the way I'm feeling, I'd love to feel every inch of her right here, right now. I didn't care who was watching.
She pulled away and I desperately chased her lips as she giggled at my neediness.
"You have to go."
"There is no way I'm leaving your side after that."
"You don't have a choice."
"I will be back. Very, very soon."
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*Y/N's POV*
I watched the second half of Michael's concert the way I should've watched the first half. I enjoyed myself dancing and singing along to my man's voice. What Tatiana said hurt me, but I felt so foolish when I thought logically again. Michael isn't that type of person. I didn't need to talk to him about this, because once the anger and hurt wore off I was able to come to a conclusion on my own. She's lying. She has to be.
"You're still here?" This damn witch. "I'd be halfway home by now if I found out my boyfriend stepped out on me."
There was so much I wanted to say, but I chose to let her words go in one ear and out the other. The last thing I want to do is let her know she ever got to me.
"Well, that's my cue. Enjoy the show." She winked, walking pass me and flipping her hair.
I was forced to watch as Tatiana strutted across the stage with my boyfriend chasing after her. This was one of my favorite songs and now I couldn’t even enjoy it. I felt my blood begin to boil as she shamelessly flirted with him in front of the crowd of thousands.
She was getting closer and closer to him. She was doing this on purpose and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Why is this song so long all of the sudden?
"What the hell is she doing?" I heard Frank DiLeo grumble from behind me. I jumped a bit at his tone, but tried to play it off.
"Everything okay?" I asked softy.
"Hey darling, yeah she was supposed— what the hell! Get her off the damn stage! Now!"
I turned my attention back to the stage and I wished more than anything I wouldn’t have done that. I tried to blink as if that would change the view, but it didn’t.
I was stuck in that horrible moment as the worst thing I could imagine was confirmed. I had a front row seat to my own humiliation and I had no idea how to escape.
Before I knew it, she was walking towards me. "So happy you could be here to see what a real power couple looks like." She stopped in front of me, crossing her arms. "Sorry honey, he's moved on to bigger and better things."
I felt my cheeks heat up as I became uncomfortably aware of how many eyes were on us.
"Tatiana, that's enough. Get away from her." Frank shouted, shooing her away like a toddler.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
We stood in silence as Man in the Mirror blasted through the speakers. It wasn't until Michael's long passionate goodbye to his fans, wrapping up the concert that Frank slung his arm around my shoulder.
"Darling, you know she's full of it right?"
"I'm not sure."
"Michael and I have to take care of some business. I won't keep him too long and I'll send him your way after."
I knew that was his way of telling me it was private business that I couldn’t be around for. I hugged him before heading off, I wasn't really sure where I was going, but walking felt better than sitting with my thoughts.
"Baby! I'm so sorry. Frank told me what happened after—"
“I need to get out of here before I do something I regret.” Michael reached out, taking a firm hold of my hand, he pulled me down a short hallway and into his dressing room.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He finally spoke, shutting the door behind him.
“You’re sorry I had to see it?”
“Yes.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Y/N—”
“Does that mean you do it often?”
“No, that’s not—”
“You go around kissing other people when I’m not around?”
“Y/N, I’ve never—”
“I know they’re everywhere, throwing themselves at you, but I never thought you let them get to you.”
“Stop!”
“What!”
“I’ve never cheated on you!” He shouted in a tone I had never heard before, the look of pain present in his eyes. Shit.
“That’s not what people are saying.” I muttered, suddenly I felt so guilty.
“People? What people?”
“Who do you think! She said you two—”
“That’s a lie! I only see her during performances. That’s it. Y/N, I would never do that to you.”
“How am I supposed to believe you after that? She kissed you and you let her.”
“No, no, no! I didn’t let her! I wasn’t even paying attention to her. When I’m on stage, I’m there to perform. Why would I spend weeks planning for your visit just to betray you?”
“She was so awful to me, the things she said, then, she went out there and—”
“Got herself fired.”
“Michael, I’m pissed, but I’ll get over it. I don’t want this to affect business. You don’t have to fire her.”
“I already did.”
“Michael—”
“I only want to work with people who respect me and my loved ones. She won’t be missed. I don’t care to have people around me that I can’t trust.”
“I’m sorry I yelled. I’m so sorry I accused you of—” Michael shut me up, gripping my hips, pressing my body against his and kissing me sloppily. His hand claiming a possessive hold of the back of my neck, deepening his touch.
"I love you." he spoke into my mouth, his hot breath sent shivers down my spine. I felt myself tremble as his fingers explored my inner thigh, pushing up my skirt to give himself more access.
"I love you." I said, slipping my fingers around his belt buckle. He smiled knowingly, pushing me back, my ass collided with the counter and I felt myself crumble at his roughness. The cold countertop causing me to let out a moan. He pulled away for a moment, reaching behind me and clearing off the counter in one swift movement. "Such a gentleman." I purred in his ear as he picked me up.
"Only for you." A smirk on his face as the sound of nylon tearing filled my ears. "I love how sexy these look on you. I'll have to replace them." His long fingers slipping pass the freshly shredded fabric of my panties and teasing me one finger at a time. He watched as my head leaned back onto the mirrored wall, he chuckled as I struggled to find something to grab onto.
"Michael!" I was fighting to breath feeling him knuckle deep inside of me, hitting the right spot. "Fuck! Deeper!" I begged for more. Contrary to my needy cries, he pulled back, leaving me feeling empty as he unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall to the ground. I took this opportunity to tear his shirt off, throwing it across the room.
Michael pushed my legs apart, admiring how much I yearned for him, he slowly pulled me towards him with a strong grip on my legs. My bare ass slide across the counter painfully slow until I finally felt his hard tip press against my entrance.
"Always so wet and ready for me." He slammed into me, giving me no time to adjust which threw me further over the edge.
"Harder!" I yelled as he pounded into me with such intensity I swear I could feel him rearranging my guts.
"Baby, I want to cum inside of you." His voice smooth, making me even more wet.
"Please!" The walls were shaking as we continued to devour one another.
"You're fucking perfect." He whispered against the bare skin of my chest, I felt him everywhere. My eyes rolled back as his dick massaged all the right places.
Suddenly, the door swung open violently, causing me to panic and try to cover my exposed chest, but Michael stopped me. He grabbed my wrists trapping them behind my back in on of his hands as he increased his speed again. My moans escaped my throat against my will as tears of pleasure rolled down my cheeks. At this point, my entire body was shaking, Michael's tongue rolling against mine elongating my high further.
"What the fuck are you doing!" A voice shouted, causing my head to snap in the direction of its origin. Tatiana.
"You feel so good wrapped around my dick." He declared as he sucked on my neck. It was impossible to concentrate on anything else but his lips. "I'll never get tired of fucking this perfect pussy." Michael didn’t stop. He spoke clearly and confidently as he fucked me with purpose.
"Get the fuck out of here!" Tatiana yelled.
"Y/N!" Michael whimpered, his seed spreading within me, causing my legs to tingle. He gazed deep into my eyes, beads of sweat trailing down his face. "I fucking love you." His hand gently curled around the side of my neck, pulling me back into his sweet mouth.
"What the fuck!" Another shout from the demon herself. I paid it no mind. Looking back at Michael, his long dick still twitching inside of me.
"I love you baby." I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck, leaning into his neck to leave my mark. Tatiana stood there staring at us in shock, so naturally I challenged her stare. I waited to see if Michael would break focus, but he didn’t.
“We are busy in here. Close the door on your way out.” Michael said sternly between breaths, not even sparing her a glance.
The door slammed shut seconds later and it was only then that I took the time to look around the dimly lit room. Make-up and personal belongings littered the floor. Various unfamiliar items surrounded us, leading me to believe that I was made apart of one very well thought out, very devious plan and it turned me on.
"Michael?"
"Yes, my love?"
“This isn’t your dressing room, is it?”
“Nope.” He smiled triumphantly, planting tender kisses all over my face.
“You’re so sneaky.”
“You’re my girl. That’s never changing.”
“You quite literally marked your territory.” I giggled as he caressed my collarbone, watching as goosebumps formed.
“Oh, Y/N, baby, I’m just getting started. We’re gonna be here all night.”
“Let’s see what you got rockstar.”
“Baby, don’t make me carry you out on that stage and give those lovely people an encore they’ll never forget.”
“A girl can dream can’t she?”
I winked teasingly as I positioned myself onto my knees, looking up at the man I love, confident I was about to give him the best head of his life.
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yourgentlegirlfriend · 2 years ago
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IM UNSHADOWBANNWD AH. I’ve been so excited to post this story it’s been in the works and it’s the THREE HUNDRED follower special first of all i do not deserve you guys at all thank you for all the support you show me i hope you enjoy this as much as i did hehe MUAH
DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!
afab reader x Pornstar! ID Leon
Warnings: Smut- just pure porn with a plot. PORNSTAR LUIS TOO HEHE.Slight (very) slight mentions of being obsessed/ watching reader, leon eats pussy (ofc he does) and fucks reader stupid.
Word count: 3,169
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———-
knock knock
“What?”
Why did he sound so annoyed? Your fist stalled against the door as you paused your knocking.
“Um- Greg told me to introduce myself. Sorry if you’re busy.”
Just try and sound sweet, don’t be a pushover. You had barely just stepped onto the set, still in the clothes you wore to your psychology class. The room ran silent, your eyes reading over his name on his door continuously before it swung up, your hair moving from the gust of wind.
His arms were so toned, his hand gripping the handle of the door knob as he leaned against the door frame. Incredibly toned, his shirt off and his hair laying against his face so perfectly. His steely eyes scanned you up and down, a chuckle rumbling through his chest as he saw you holding your Psych 200 book.
“Leon.”
He mumbled as he watched you scan over his arms. He was cocky; you could tell. Before you could even introduce yourself, the door slammed in your face, your hands gripping your bag as you sighed to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief.
———
“She shot with Sera like a month ago. The video is still up on the front page too.”
Leon’s makeup artist spoke as she rubbed the beauty blender against his forehead. Leon stared at himself in the mirror; he felt terrible for slamming the door in your face. He really did. He has been in the industry for too long, and he has never had anyone come and formally introduce themselves before filming, so seeing you stand there not being able to say a complete sentence to his face just irritated him. He was also just surprised you didn’t know him; he owned this whole set, his manager is the one who makes his booking, or he definitely wouldn’t have picked you of all people.
———
After shooting with Luis, the two of you became very close friends; when you got to your small studio room, you threw your bag and book down, dialing his number on your phone as you pulled your laptop out, sitting on the desk.
“Hello?”
Luis' voice rang through your ear as you sighed in frustration, instantly communicating that something was wrong.
“He slammed a door in my face when I tried to say hi to him, Luis.. why does he have such a big ego? Sure is heavy for a man I've never even seen before.”
Your fingers typed his name into the search bar, clicking on the first link to come up as you listened to Luis ramble about how this is just how it’s going to be and how lucky you were to get him as your first shoot, your mouth ran dry seeing the cover photo of one of Leon’s hundreds of videos, his cock barely pushing into some girl, his hair covering his face so perfectly and his lips parted so slightly.
“Mama, what did I tell you? Do not google.”
Luis scolded as he listened to you close the laptop.
“I don’t know, Luis, maybe I should just leave- I have to go; makeup’s here.”
Hanging up on him because of the slight knock on the door. It must have been noticeable that you were in your head, the pretty makeup artist wiping at your cheeks with a light bronzer to grab your attention.
“You don’t need much makeup, and you’re naturally very beautiful.”
She smiles softly as she reaches for the mascara. You smile back at her as she tilts your head around.
“That’s very sweet of you, thank you.”
You laugh as she turns your chair around, smiling as she pushes your hair from your face.
“Gorgeous, they want you in this. Whatever you wear under is completely up to you.”
The beautiful woman rambled as she pulled the light blue sundress from the bag, handing it to you. No matter what they said to you, you couldn’t get out of your own head.
————
The wall had a weird pattern. It wasn’t like standard white paint but was super grainy, you sat further back, watching as the director checked all of his cameras, fixing the lights, and reading over signed paperwork. They never handed you a script, though, which left you lost. Luis’ crew had a script. It was easy to remember, but maybe only Leon had one. Right when you think about him, he comes walking in from the main door, a smug smile on his face as he grabs hands to shake. If he weren’t in the industry he would make a wonderful bodyguard with broad shoulders, strong arms, and confidence. He wore a black long-sleeve shirt accompanied by a pair of dark denim jeans. It sucked; he was such an asshole, he was handsome. It suddenly made you feel so self-conscious, remembering the cover photo you had seen on your laptop. You specifically specialized in actual content, genuine emotions, and honest reactions, and the people love it. You started on your own, only fans, to be specific, and it makes you laugh out of embarrassment when it’s brought up. Your eyes follow Leon as he grabs a cup of water, leaning on the table as he talks to the makeup artist, who, for some reason, points over to you. Your eyes drop to your lap, your legs crossed as you play with the soft material of the dress. Your heart began to race as you saw his shoes directly in front of you. His presence was so heavy. Your gaze shifted up to him, his hand touching the arm of your chair.
“Sorry for slamming the door on you, I’ve had a long week, and I forgot I was shooting today.”
Hearing him talk in a complete sentence now was weird, his voice rough yet deep. You nodded your head as you shrugged.
“I can’t blame you; I would slam the door on me too.”
You smile, but it quickly drops once you notice what he said; how could he forget he has a shot? He just called you easily forgettable. Leon’s eyes trailed down to your thighs, smiling to himself as your leg bounced up and down. The two of you stood in your silence before Greg walked over towards you two, grabbing your shoulders.
“Leon, Y/N, Y/N, Leon. I know this piece of work doesn’t introduce himself for shit.”
He laughed, pointing towards the bed in the middle of the room; Leon’s eyes squinted at the minor insult before both of your eyes shifted to the bed. He had explained some shitty plan that had the two of you bored. He sighed before he looked at Leon, touching his arm.
“Just do whatever you want. Why do you pay me?”
His foot turned to walk away from you two as Leon still stared at the bed in the middle of the room. He turned back to you, putting his hand out, your eyebrow-raising in confusion up at him.
“Leon Kennedy.”
Your hand pulled from your lap, shaking at his, both of your grip on each other strong as you nodded your head.
“Just call me Y/N.”
You spoke sheepishly before he helped you up from the chair. Was he going to listen to what the director said? This was an extensive movie set, the bedroom, and then the small room apart from the bedroom that seemed to resemble a hallway.
“I know we stepped off on the wrong foot, but can you trust me? Just for the next hour?”
Leon leaned down to your ear as the two of you walked towards the hallway set. You nodded your head as the lighting changed to a darker yellow.
Leon’s head turned towards the camera as he put his hand up
“No cuts.”
He yelled out as he turned back to you.
—————-
Felt awful slamming the door on her pretty face.
Leon’s grip on the door handle grew tighter by the second as you rambled on about trying to introduce yourself. The room shook as he slammed the door, a strained groan leaving his lips as he looked down at his sweatpants. You had knocked at a horrible time, Leon’s laptop on display with your video with Luis flashing on his screen. He was obsessed with you. Obsessed with how your lips parted before you moaned or how easily sensitive you were. You didn’t need to introduce yourself. He already knew. So when he called his agent asking him to call your agent to see if you were booking, he was more than excited when they said you were open. He pumped himself for almost an hour, soft moans leaving his lips as his eyes squeezed shut, trying to think about how it would feel to have you squeezing around his cock.
———
“Action!”
Greg screamed, your eyelids heavy as you looked up at Leon. It was crazy how fast you could switch moods like that. Leon's hands were immediately all over you, pressing you into the wall by your waist as he hungrily peppered kisses against your jaw. And suddenly everything felt so much hotter? His hands dragged down your skin, and his lips burned into the soft skin of your neck, a whine leaving your lips as one of Leon’s hungry hands brought your leg to his waist.
“There you go, honey, relax for me..”
He mumbled into your skin as his hands lifted you into his arms. You were surprised at his strength as he held you with one hand, his other pushing the door open. He made you feel so small, throwing you down onto the plush mattress, your chest rising and falling as he softly nipped at your collarbones. You weren’t this nervous with Luis, your hands shaking as you pushed some hair from Leon’s face as he kissed the small space between your chest, his hands carefully rubbing up your thighs, his fingers resting against your stomach as he pushed himself down the bed. He needed more. The way you shook under him only encouraged him, his head nuzzling so perfectly between your thighs, smirking up at you as your eyes fluttered away from you, avoiding his stare. The pressure in his pants grew more intense, listening to the hiss pull through your teeth as he held onto the fabric of the sundress, licking over your pretty black panties.
“Damn..”
He grumbled as he lifted your hips, pulling the panties off you, bundling them up in his hand, and pushing them into his pocket as he moved the dress's material again. Scooting in closer to you, laying your knees over his shoulders as he looked up at you through heavy eyelids, his tongue laying a long strip over your folds. You couldn’t help but squirm in his grasp, his hands flying to your waist as you let out that shaky whine again that drove him fucking crazy. You tasted so unbelievably good on his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he hungrily lapped at your folds, pulling you closer like somebody was trying to take you from him. You were so dazed, your back arching as the cameraman squatted beside you and Leon, trying to get the perfect angle. You didn’t even care about his presence, caught up in crying out Leon's name as he repeatedly lapped at your clit, a loud whimper leaving your lips as you sat up, tugging at his hair. Leon could stay between your legs all day, but he needed more. He pulled away from your still dripping core, his face glistening with your slick as he took advantage of you sitting up, pulling the dress over your head. He couldn’t help but groan, finally seeing you bare beneath him, his hands pushing down against your chest, your back laying flat against the mattress yet again as you stared up at him, watching with sparkling eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head. He was sculpted so beautifully.. and it hit you, this is why he’s so popular, he’s a walking god.
“Been waiting on this part all fucking day..”
Leon’s lips parted as he yanked his jeans down, along with his boxers. He let out a sigh of relief as his cock pressed against his upper stomach, his hand reaching down to pump himself as he kicked his jeans off. And suddenly you felt like that girl on the cover of the video you saw, Leon’s hair sprawling perfectly against his face as he leans his body down, tearing your thighs open as his thumb lazily rubs small circles against your clit, smirking as you jolt forward. He continued to pump himself as he reached over, grabbing at the baby pink silk pillow at the edge of the bed before he shoved it under your hips. What a gentleman… you thought to yourself before your thighs were pressing together at the feeling of his cock pressing into you. He was so thick, your walls having a hard time adjusting to even just the tip of him. Leon’s lips pressed together as he let out a quiet “fuck..” His hands holding your legs open as he put more pressure on your clit, your core growing soaked again assisting him in sliding so perfectly into you. If he weren’t getting paid for this, he would’ve just came then and there, watching your pretty face scrunch up in painful pleasure, your legs kicking in his grasp slightly, and your painfully tight walls squeezing him.
“Fuck.. relax, baby, let me in.”
Leon whispered to you as you nodded your head, allowing your hips to rest against the pillow as he cooed down at you, leaning down against your much smaller form and forcing your legs over his broad shoulder. His thumb is still rubbing at your clit to ease the pain of him stretching you out. Leon’s jaw tightens as he pulls his hips back, letting out a shaky breath as he slams back into you, smiling as the small “Mmph!-“ Left your throat involuntarily. So fucking precious. Your soft thighs brushed against his chest as he fucked into you, his body weight lifting off you as he grabbed your ankles, staring down at where he pushed into you. Even the director looked surprised as Leon let out a long moan. It rumbled through his chest as he continued to fuck into you, your hands grabbing at the bed sheets. Leon mumbled a few words to himself before he grabbed at your body, flipping you on to your side as he threw the pillow to to other side of the room. He crawled behind you, lifting your leg before he pushed into you again, causing you to let out a loud whine, your head leaning back into his shoulder as his thrusts somehow became deeper- more meaningful. Leon reached over, pushing some hair from your face as he looked down at you.
“Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes for me.”
His lips touch the shell of your ear as he whispers to you. You were in bliss; he rubbed against your walls so perfectly it felt like your skin was on fire. Your eyes fluttered open, looking at the camera hazily. Leon shook his head, grabbing your jaw and turning your head towards him.
“Don’t look at them.. look at me… it’s just you and me right now, baby, just you and me.”
He groaned down to you as a loud cry of pleasure left your lips in response, your orgasm crashing through you. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer to him as his hips snapped into you faster.
“That's a good fucking girl- mm.. fuck keep squeezing around me like that, honey..”
Leon felt his hips stuttering as he looked down at you, fucked out in his arms. A shaky moan left his lips as his hips stopped, his cum spurting into you, causing loud cries to leave your lips. Leon laid out of breath before he pulled out of you, smirking as he tilted his head at the cameraman to bring him in closer as he spread your lips, his fingers spreading your folds as his cum dripped out of you, the biggest smirk on his face.
“Cut!”
Was all you heard as the bed dipped beside you, your body still trying to recover as you sat up, your hair messy and your mascara running down the side of your face as Leon laughed, looking over at you.
“You okay, sugar?”
He asked sweetly as he grabbed a water, opening it before handing it to you, pushing some hair from your face as you took a small sip.
“Yeah.. just was a lot.”
You nod as he watches you; he clears his throat, handing you the sundress from the ground as he stands, pulling his pants up.
“Listen. I know you don’t know me, but, are you busy tonight? Let me take you out for dinner.”
He wasn’t asking; it was more of him letting you know he was. Your arms go through the holes before you look at him, nodding your head.
———-
You were the current talk of the industry.
Everyone was so curious how you broke Leon, making him utterly different from any video he’s ever shot.
Your face scrunches as you look at yours and Leon’s page on the front cover of the site, that smirk on his face as he spreads apart your folds. Your knee is pressed to your chest as you scroll through the comments, flinching slightly as you feel pressure at the top of your head.
“Morning.”
Leon grumbles as he sips his coffee after kissing the top of your head. His eyes follow yours, seeing the “uploaded two months ago” in the corner as he whistled
“Gonna win awards for that one.”
He winks at you, your arm swinging at him before you shut the laptop on the table.
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bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago
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Jungkook
𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Changes
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What do you do when the person you once were becomes the person you miss being the most?
Tags/Warnings: Aged up!Jungkook, Younger!Reader, Age Gap (9 years, JK is mentioned to be 34/35), Angst, Mature romance, Jungkook's ex wife, mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of alcohol abuse, fluff, flirty Jungkook, no smut in this I'm sorry pls still read it :( there's some tension tho!!
Length: 6.5k words
There is no taglist for this fic.
-> Masterlist
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💜── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
"Thanks for picking him up." Taehyung sighs, his son happily in the living room, taking a nap from school as he tucks himself in on the couch while his favorite show plays on the TV.
"I would've asked her, you know, but I feel like I'm relying too much on her again." The young father sighs. "I'm basically treating her the same as I did years ago, just without the pay."
"I heard about that." Jungkook says, drinking his coffee at the kitchen table where he sits across Taehyung. "She used to nanny while you lived separately from your wife, I think it was." He hums, setting his cup down. Jungkook isn't on bad terms with Taehyung's wife- but he tends to not say her name, because he honestly harbors quite a bit of distaste towards the woman who refuses to properly take care of her own child.
"Well don't you seem to know a bit about her now." Taehyung squints his eyes in suspicion. "What happened to 'she's too young for me anyways' huh?" He teases, and Jungkook sighs.
"Well, things.. happened. And we talked." He shrugs. "We're not.. really a couple, but we agreed to spend time with one another." He explains.
"So you're friends with benefits?" He wonders, drinking his tea while Jungkook leans back.
"No." He shakes his head, even though deep down, it does kind of feel like that to him, now that he thinks about it a bit more. "It's.. a bit more complicated than that. We're simply talking, seeing where it goes." He says.
"Hmhm." Tae nods. "Just don't break her heart. I still got basically nightmares from her last relationship." He mumbles a bit angrily to himself, clearly a bit irritated even just by the thought of it.
"I.. wondered what happened." Jungkook says. "Dae said he was a drinker?" He wonders, and Taehyung nods.
"Drinker, druggie, abusive asshole." He huffs, crossing his arms. "It's the main reason she moved away when Daehyun was younger. She wanted to protect him- make sure he won't get hurt."
"Was he violent?" Jungkook wants to know, because honestly, he has a hunch that that might've been the case. Taehyung seems on edge now, clearly torn between probably saying the truth, and respecting your privacy. "I was intending to ask her anyways. But she seems like the type to downplay her problems in order to make things seem less serious, so I thought you might be more honest." He adds.
"Yeah, she is like that." Tae agrees softly. "I'm not too sure what exactly went down. But I do know that she.. distanced herself out of fear that Daehyun might get hurt." He tells his friend. "Greg started to pick her up every time she'd babysit Daehyun at my house, even after I told him I didn't like that. He still did, still argued, turned up drunk multiple times at my doorstep." The young father remembers. "I kept her with me, of course. I'd never let her drive home with that alcoholic- but I guess something must've happened because she just.. suddenly cut contact." He shrugs. "Sent me a text, changed her number, moved out her old apartment."
"When did she come back?" Jungkook wonders.
"According to Yoongi, a few weeks before the aftershow party." Taehyung responds.
"So that's why you didn't recognize her?" He figures, and Tae nods.
"She changed a lot. Not just visually. She's.." His eyes lower to the cup in his hand. "..a lot more quiet. Cautious. Jumpy." He informs his friend. "And at the same time, she seems to mask a lot of it- get's irritated easily. She's trying to be who she was, but it's obvious that something changed, and whenever someone notices, she becomes defensive."
Jungkook doesn't really know what to think. Looking at Daehyun on the couch, he can absolutely understand your standpoint back then to get away from Taehyung's family in order to protect them- but that means there must have been at least some form of fear against your former partner to make you believe that he could potentially be a danger to the young boy and his father. It could also just be jealousy, of course- but Taehyung is right. You are a little odd sometimes.
And he doesn't know if he wants to know exactly why, or if he wants to let sleeping dogs rest.
♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥
Jungkook leans back in his office chair, headache already almost too unbearable to him, especially considering the woman who's making her way up in the giant corporate building to see him.
She wants money again, he knows it. Evelyn only ever visits him if there's something she wants, after all.
"One might argue they'd know me by now." Evelyn huffs as she enters the office, hair a bit wet as she throws her coat over the chair in front of his desk, before she sits down. "How're you doing?" She wonders, and Jungkook doesn't look away from his laptop's screen whatsoever, still looking through his e-mails. He doesn't have to put too many thoughts into this conversation after all- she's most likely just here to leech off of him again.
"Cut it." He simply says. "What do you want?" He asks, phone on his desk vibrating and chiming with a new notification.
'I can just drop something off for you? I just got off work myself, so it's no hassle.' your message reads, an answer to a former rant from him about his headache, and the fact that he's 'locked in like a dog' in his office and without any proper food ever since this morning. It makes him softly smile a little, the fact that you want to bring him something to eat even though you're probably exhausted from your shift as well is something he's not used to. And he didn't even have to ask for it.
'Only if it's really not an issue for you' his answer reads, and you send a thumbs-up emoji as an answer, before you finish typing your proper answer.
'DW, is anything okay or do you want something specific?' you question, and he immediately types a response.
'Just whatever, really. Nothing too spicy though, please.' he offers, when a hand knocks on the table in front of him, the woman in his office dragging him back into reality with force. He signs, locks his phone before he puts it down, opening a chat with the front desk downstairs to let them know to bring you up when you arrive.
"You know, this was always the issue, Jungkook." Evelyn whines, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. "You're so consumed by your work, it's crazy." She shakes her head.
"That wasn't work, actually." He bites back with a monotone voice, not really offering her any emotion whatsoever- there's nothing left in him anymore he could offer anyways. She took it all, sucked it out of him like an insect, and now she's constantly upset that he's empty inside.
"Anyways, I got this letter recently stating that there was an issue with the bank transfer?" She says, giving him the letter to read- which he does, flying over it just to remember why that bank transfer did not go through. "I told them that they'll get their money by friday." She hums, leaning her face on her palm while he gives her the letter back.
"What do I have to do with it then?" He asks, and she sits upright again, tilting her head a bit in irritation. "You said they'll get their money by friday. Good. Why are you here then?" He asks, arms crossed, office chair squeaking a bit as he leans back into it.
"Well, it's your bank account!" She laughs a bit unsure. "I don't even know why there was apparently not a sufficient balance on it." She argues.
"I resigned the automatic transfer rights." Jungkook tells her, face not moving an inch as he breaks the news. "The letter doesn't mention an insufficient balance at all, Evelyn. It states that there's no bank account set for the automated transfer option at all." He informs her.
"What the fuck Jungkook?!" She barks. "And you didn't even tell me?!" She yells, standing up to slap her hands on his desk. "You can't just make these changes and not inform me about it! Do you know how expensive that was?!" She accuses, and he shrugs, noticing something move behind her, milky glass front of his office hiding what's going on inside and outside, only letting shadows be seen if someone's close enough. "I'll text you the invoice later, and you better fucking pay, you asshole!" She says, when she whips her head around, someone opening the glass door.
"Thanks." You tell the office lady having let you in, before your eyes widen, door closing behind you and instantly drowning out all noise except the very slight sound of the fan in the corner of the room.
"Ah, there you are." Jungkook sighs, suddenly feeling a lot lighter as he looks at you. "Come here- is it still raining a lot?" He wonders easily, taking the white plastic bag from you to set it on his table, before giving you a small hug to greet you. "I think that was all you wanted, wasn't it?" He asks Evelyn, who hasn't even gotten up from her seat, instead clearly studying you now.
"Actually, no." She tells him. "And it's kind of private, so it would be real nice if your assistant would leave." She tells you with a smile that reminds you of a snarling dog.
"Then come back a different day." Jungkook answers her however, offering to take your coat from you to hang next to his own on the wall close to the large windows. "Right now I'm really not in the mood for whatever it might be. Especially not with my girlfriend in the room." He bluntly says, and something seems to flash over her face at the mention of your alleged role in his life.
She slowly stands up to take her coat from the back of the chair, movements a lot slower now, a glare sent into your direction. "Don't get your hopes up, sweetheart." Evelyn tells you, slipping into the sleeves of her coat. "His first love will always stay his job." She almost threatens, before she takes her purse and leaves through the door, leaving a confused you, and a clearly exhausted Jungkook behind.
"Please, sit down." He offers, and you do so, watching how he leans back in his chair, hands running over his face before he sits up again. "I'm sorry. That timing couldn't have been worse." He sighs.
"Ah, here. Do you have water here?" You wonder, and he nods, pointing towards a water dispenser in the room. "Oh, fancy." You laugh, walking up to fill a cup to put in front of him. "I take them myself, they usually help really quickly. Not trying to murder you." You tease, and he chuckles, taking the medication and the cup for himself.
"Thank you, really." He sighs out before taking the pill, washing it down with half of the cup's contents before he closes his eyes for a moment. "God I hate her so much." He suddenly breaks out laughing, before he shakes his head, digging through what you've bought for him.
"I assume that was your ex wife?" You wonder, and he nods.
"I'm also really sorry for telling her you're my girlfriend when we haven't even talked about that yet." He tells you a bit.. shyly almost, while you pull the bag closer to take something out for yourself.
"It's fine." You shrug. "Got a nice ring to it, you know?" You joke, and he smiles, starting to eat.
It's quiet, but not oddly so. He enjoys this a lot, this company without any pressure, no eerie sense of something being about to happen. You're clearly here because you want to be, there's nothing you want from him, nothing you need, nothing you could gain from this. It's just what it is, nothing else, nothing to red between the lines.
"You can ask why she was here, by the way." He offers you, wiping his mouth with a tissue.
"I don't have to know." You say, however. "It's got nothing to do with me- right?" You ask, and he nods. "Then it's none of my business. You can rant to me about it, sure, but I can't really give you any opinions on it since I don't really know her, or the situation around you and her." You tell him.
Jungkook watches you for a moment, before he nods. "You're right." He agrees, letting go of the topic entirely for now. He know it's only fair to talk to you about it at some point- but right now is not the time for that, he decides. "Do you want me to drive you home later? I really only have to answer this one E-mail and then I can clock out." He tells you between bites, wiping his fingers before he taps away on his keyboard.
"If it's not a bother, sure." You shrug. "You said you got the weekend off, right?" You ask him, and he nods a bit absentmindedly. "Then how about you stay over?" You ask, and that definitely seems to catch his attention.
"Stay over?" He asks, just to make sure he heard it correctly, and you nod.
"Yeah." You nod. "It's, you know, what boyfriends do with their girlfriends." You tease, making him roll his eyes. "We could cook something, watch a movie. Oh, and one of the lightbulbs in my kitchen broke, so maybe you could fix that for me?" You chirp, and he suddenly smiles brightly to himself, clicking something on his laptop before he shuts it down. "What's that grin for, mister?" You ask, and he just shakes his head.
"Nothing, really." He tells you. "I'm just really happy." He confesses, and you smile the same, now a bit shy.
"Well, what's your answer then?" You wonder, watching him pack the leftovers back into the bag, before he walks to get both his and your jackets, helping you into yours.
"My answer is yes." He says, voice very close to your ear as he leans over your shoulder from behind you, hands on your arms for a second. "I'd love to stay over and fix that lightbulb too, of course.-"
"Since I heard that's what boyfriends do with their girlfriends."
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"There we go." He says, slowly climbing down the plastic kitchen chair you're holding onto just in case. "Anything else while I'm here?" He genuinely asks, and you shake your head, moving the chair back to the small kitchen table.
"No, that was all. Thank you, really." You say, before you move to open the fridge, taking out some things while he stands around with his hands in his pockets. Your apartment is pretty small- living in it together with you would most likely prove to be way too much, but he still thinks it's better than his own, in terms of.. quality.
His own home feels empty. There's nothing in it, it's way too big for a single person, and the view from so high up above the clouds has long lost it's charm to him.
He sits down at the kitchen table, leaning on it a little as he watches you wash some vegetables before you grab a cutting board and a knife. "Daehyun said you're a little lonely without your dog." He says, and you giggle a little, smiling to yourself. "Have you considered getting another one?" He wonders, but you just shrug.
"I'm too busy at the moment." You deny. "I used to bring him to work with me, since he was a very quiet and calm dog, which fit perfect into our office." You remember. "He'd always sleep under my desk, right on my feet. Always kept them warm." You softly say, and he notices that he might've struck a still hurtful topic if only from the sound of your voice becoming somewhat tighter.
"I can imagine. I always wanted a dog too-" He sighs, leaning back. "But.. Evelyn, the woman you saw today, she doesn't like them. So it was out of the question."
"Really?" You wonder, cutting up the vegetables. "I mean, I guess, if both of you were really busy then it probably was for the best." You hum, tension leaving you again. "Gotta look at the bigger picture."
"Yeah, maybe it was for the best." He agrees. To be honest, Evelyn would've probably fought over the dog as well, just like she did over the apartment, and other more petty things like fucking furniture. She wanted to ruin him, if financially then emotionally, and somehow, she somewhat did.
It's quiet again, when you, surprisingly to him, cut into a topic he did not expect.
"His name was Greg." You say, filling a small pot with water before you place it on the stove, turning it on. "You probably talked about him with Taehyung."
"I did." He admits. "But there's not much I know." He offers. "And like you said about my situation, I don't have to know about things that don't concern me. However-" He begins, getting up to now stand closer, find your gaze that's turned downwards onto the cutting board. "-I don't want to accidentally do something that might make you uncomfortable due to past experiences." He says.
"What a tactful way to ask me if I've got any trauma from that guy." You chuckle, moving to put the cut up vegetables in a bowl before you continue the preparations for dinner.
"I'm trying to be gentle here." He attempts to lighten up the mood, and you indeed smile at that.
"And I'm very thankful for that." You offer him, before you sigh, setting down the knife. "I don't.. think we're at a point where I should be dumping all of what happened onto you." You inform him, and he nods, accepting that. "I don't like yelling. If I feel uncomfortable, I'll probably try and get myself out of a situation by any means necessary-" you admit, turning a little to look at him. "-and that will probably include some nasty words thrown your way, if that get's you away from me." You tell him. "And I don't like alcohol. Even if you hand me full on medical evidence that you can't even get drunk, the moment I smell it- I just can't trust you." You say, and he nods.
"Alright, I respect that." He nods.
"I'll also get pretty clingy over time." You add on, making him nod. "And I can be annoying. I'll text you a lot." You continue, and a small smile sneaks itself onto his lips as he shrugs, crossing his arms. "The moment you invite me into your home I'll practically steal half of your closet contents-"
"Is that what he told you?" He wonders, and you grow quiet, eyes avoiding him. "I'm obsessed with my work." He begins his own rant, standing up to walk closer to you. "I never have time for anything else. I'm boring. Sometimes rude, and immature. I'm a perfectionist, but I'm also lazy. I snore, and I work out too much to the point where I'm sweating buckets. I'm a little messy." He tells you, hugging you from behind, though not very intimately- giving you a clear way out if you so want to.
"…is that what she told you?" You answer, and he smiles.
"Let's just agree on getting to know each other just the way we are, not the way someone else described us in the past." He offers, and you nod.
"Alright." You hum, before you push him a little playfully. "Now go and let me cook in here, boyfriend." You tease, making him grin impishly, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he does not walk away from behind you, hands now flat on your ass. "Hey!"
"What? I'm out of your way like this." He tells you almost innocently, hands moving to hold your waist now.
"Sit down there and let me cook!" You laugh.
"But we wanted to cook together, no?" He wonders. "Like.. boyfriend and girlfriend." He leans his chin on your shoulder.
"Well, boyfriends let their girlfriends cook in peace." You threaten, making him chuckle as his fingers squeeze your hips a bit.
"Not if their girlfriend is this attractive." He purrs, making you roll your eyes.
"Jungkook…" You wonder, suddenly way more serious, making his stand up straight again so you can face him. "Is.. that what we are now?" You ask, and his lips part for a second, unsure of his own answer. "I mean, it's fine if we're just playing around. Just.. I'm scared that we might end up in some.. unnecessary drama down the line if we're blurring the lines too much without properly discussing things first." You say.
"What do you mean?" He asks, and you sigh.
"What if you end up calling me.. your girlfriend just as a joke? But I start believing it at some point- thinking we are something serious when we're not. Or the other way around." You explain. "I don't want us to get hurt again. Neither of us."
Jungkook takes a deep breath, and from this close proximity, you can make out two odd dots near his bottom lip you're not too sure of. You might ask him about them some other time.
"Let me take time off of work. Next week, three days." He offers, catching you off guard. "Let's go on a trip. Together. Someplace no one knows us, and we don't know either." He tells you.
"I mean- I would've had friday and the weekend off anyways but-"
"Okay, great, perfect. I'll cancel my Friday meetings." He tells you, hands moving- at first, they seem to attempt to hold your cheeks- but it's like that feels too intimate yet, so he settles for your shoulders. "Let's get to know each other. The real you and me that got.. buried at some point." He offers.
"Why on a trip?" You ask.
"Because it's perfect." He chuckles. "Close proximity of the hotel room we'll share, stress of navigating the unfamiliar environment, the tension of not being able to just 'escape' any uncomfortable situation right away forcing us to talk things out as they happen-" He begins, and your mouth shapes an 'o' as you realize what he's talking about.
"It's a stress-test." You say, and he nods, grinning.
"Exactly." He nods.
"…to be honest you're already stressing me out." You jokingly reply-
Jungkook laughing, and you have a feeling he's not done that in a long time, with the way his ears turn red and his hand covers his mouth in embarrassment of that outburst.
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When Taehyung opens the door, he instantly greets his son who Jungkook has put down the moment he'd noticed the young father arriving at the front door to let him in.
"Oh wow." Taehyung laughs as Jungkook walks in, almost nervously running a hand through his hair. "Is the world ending? Apocalypse? Or am I high?" He jokes, making Jungkook roll his eyes. "No, seriously! I didn't even know you could still put those piercings back in!" He laughs, taking Dae's school backpack to take out his lunchbox so he can sort out the leftovers and wrappers from his snacks.
"It was a bit tricky, I won't lie." He laughs a little. "But they didn't really close all that much since I had them for so long, so it wasn't a big deal." He shrugs.
"What's the occasion?" Tae wonders, throwing the wrappers of Daehyun's snacks in the trash. "You most certainly don't look like you're gonna go to a meeting like that. What happened to 'I'm not in my twenties anymore' huh?" He jokes.
"I'm honestly not sure." He answers, hands in the pockets of his pants. "Just.. felt like it. And I'm not going to the office- I took time off." He confesses.
"Okay, are you running a fever?" Taehyung asks, and Jungkook laughs to himself. "Are you gonna meet up with your.. friend?" He air-quotes, and Jungkook nods, checking the silver watch on his wrist.
"Yeah- we're meeting up later, she's currently packing her things last thing she texted me." He nods. "Our flight is in about three hours from now, but it's her first time flying, so we wanted to be there a bit early just in case." Jungkook shrugs.
"Oh, fancy." Taehyung laughs. "Why though?" He wonders, washing the colorful lunchbox of his son in the sink.
"Stress testing." Jungkook offers. "We just want to see if we can handle each other under pressure." He says, and Taehyung sighs.
"My god Jungkook, can you just once try and not make everything more complicated than it has to be?" He worries. "Just spend time with her. Go out for a coffee or something, watch a shitty movie at home and let her suck you off during the commercial break or something, you know, like NORMAL people!" He whines. "You're acting as if this is some million-dollar business discussion. It's really not." He huffs out in frustration. "Listen, I know Eve fucked you over bad, and honestly you've always had a shit-taste in women to begin with because holy fuck if I think back to Lucy-"
"Can you get to the point?" Jungkook complains, a little embarrassed as his friend brings up his admittedly terrible dating history.
"-yeah, sorry." He laughs. "But, trust me-" Taehyung says, drying his hands before he puts them on his friend's shoulders. "-she's honestly perfect for you. Once you help her get her confidence back up, trust me, you've got yourself someone who's not a raging cunt for once." He finishes his rant, and Jungkook takes a deep breath.
"You think?" He worries, and Taehyung nods.
"I do." He says, patting his friend's back before he leads him to his front door. "Be yourself. And I mean, your real self. Be that goofy dude who cries during disney movies and folds his laundry to Depeche Mode at 3 am."
"Why would I do that?" Jungkook cringes, thinking his friend is joking- but he's surprised to find Taehyung with a soft gaze instead, an encouraging smile on his lips.
"Because that's the Jungkook I know." He offers, a somber look on his face.
"And I miss him."
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"Let me take that." He offers, taking the suitcase from you. It's small, scratched up, and he can't help but notice the stickers on it. "You good to go?" He wonders, and you nod, closing the door before locking it, walking next to him out the apartment building towards his by now familiar car, his own luggage already in the trunk where he puts yours now as well.
The moment you sit next to him inside, is when you notice how.. different he is today. Not only from looks alone- but it feels different, oddly enough. Lighter. Not as serious as he usually is. "I wondered what those.. spots were." You say, looking at him from the passenger side, and he raises his brows while stopping at a red light, turning his head towards you, who points to your own lower lip.
"Ah, yeah." He chuckles, a bit bashful. "I.. got them done in my early twenties. Took them out though, because.. I don't know." He shrugs.
"You don't know, of do you just realize that the reason was stupid?" You giggle, and he sighs, with a smile on his lips however.
"Caught me." He confesses, changing lanes as he makes his way to the airport.
"Why'd you put them back in?" You ask, leaning against the car door a bit.
"Because I wanted to be myself." He explains. "I.. like I said. I want you to get to know me. And not the person I became to please others around me." He tells you.
"I assume your.. ex wife didn't like the piercings?" You ask, testing how far you can pry into his past and how much you can poke until he tells you off. But much to your surprise, he seems rather unfazed by the topic.
"She hated my tattoos as well. Wanted me to get them removed constantly." He chuckles, and you're intrigued.
"You've got tattoos as well?" You ask, and he nods.
"Maybe I'll let you see them later?" He flirts, and you grin to yourself, adjusting your legs a little as you stay quiet. "Either way, Evelyn didn't like a lot about me."
"Then why did she marry you?" You ask, noticing too late how mean that question could come off.
"Probably for my bank account." He simply laughs. "I was.. stupid. I thought she was fixing me." He shakes his head. "I thought she only had my best interest in mind." He says, setting his turn lights to enter the airport parking area. "But she always hated me. Still does." He sighs, searching for a proper parking spot.
"Well, I don't hate you." You tell him.
"Yet." He mumbles, before he finally parks the car, turning off the engine. "Do you have your passport and everything on hand? Don't wanna have to unpack everything in a rush later at check-in." He tries to change the topic, but you look at him with eyes so soft that he becomes scared of them.
"Jungkook." You say his name, and he hates how kind it sounds. "As long as you're not like him, I won't hate you. Honestly, I don't even hate him." You tell him, and he nods a bit stiffly, before practically escaping the car, instead putting on his jacket before helping you take out your suitcase and handbag.
Inside the airport, he notices your nervousness, hand constantly reaching out but never holding on to him at all, in any way. It makes him chuckle a little as he watches you fight with yourself for quite a while, before he helps you check in.
You're clearly a bit overstimulated by everything going on around you, looking around anxiously, biting the inside of your lips constantly, even as you both sit down to wait for your gate to open for boarding. "Hey-" He reaches out to tug your lip from your teeth with his thumb, before he smiles in reassurance. "Okay?" He wonders, and you nod, though you're not looking at him. "Come here. You can hold onto me, by the way, if that helps you." Jungkook suggests, and you move your arms to wrap around one of his, body scooting closer to lean your face against his shoulder, sweater soft against your skin. He moves his arm around your shoulders to keep you closer, hand offering itself for you to hold instead, and you do so, fingers cold. "What's that scar?" He wonders, thumb running over a faint scar over the palm of your hand.
"A shoelace." You say, a little quietly.
"A shoelace?" He repeats, and you nod.
"Yeah." You confirm. "I had.. I was in the midst of changing the laces of.. Gregory's boots, because the dog had chewed them. But he got mad anyways, and pulled them out of my hand." You remember. "It happened really quickly, but I remember that it hurt badly." You chuckle. "It was an odd pain. Like my body couldn't decide whether or not I was burned or cut."
Jungkooks hand on your shoulder starts to move a little in a soothing motion, fingers circling around. It's his first confirmation that something did indeed happen, and he's almost convinced that what you just told him was probably not an isolated incident, but simply one of many that went down during your entire relationship.
"I didn't want him to get mad at Yogi. He already hated the poor dog enough." You sigh, closing your eyes as you settle against Jungkook's side. He enjoys this close proximity, the domestic feel of this moment, even though it's out in public and for everyone to see. He doesn't care.
"You can heal with me, you know?" He says, and you look up at him from where you're leaning against his body. "I can't promise you that.. our time spent will be all smooth sailing, but I can assure you that it will be nothing like what you've experienced." He hums towards you.
And you smile warmly, sighing. "Don't worry-" you giggle, closing your eyes.
"-It already is."
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The hotel room is spacious, expensive looking, nothing like you've seen before.
Usually, you only really get to see things like these on vacation photos your friends show you- you yourself don't really travel, you technically don't take time off at all, rather always asking to have your off-days paid out instead if possible. You've got no reason to treat yourself with anything, be it time off or a full on vacation.
Your sense of self worth has shriveled up like rotten fruit over the years, now thrown out like the garbage it is.
Jungkook meanwhile clearly has a routine in him, as he walks through every room first to check if everything's okay, just to then place his bag somewhere near the bed, a big yawn escaping him as he opens the balcony door wide, letting the air of the seaside in. It's odd to see him dressed rather casual, simple but expensive sweater stretching over his broad back. His face still shows the clear stress he's accumulated, and it makes you wonder.
"Do you.. go on vacations often?" You wonder, and he shakes his head.
"No, usually I only fly out for business trips." He explains, watching you sit on the edge of the twin-sized bed. "I originally thought I should book two single beds, by the way. I just.. thought it might be more intimate like this." He tells you, leaning against the small balcony's edge outside, glass door open, as the wind blows through the curtains a little.
"It's okay like this." You nod, making him smile softly.
"Do you want to rest a little?" He asks, and you shrug, unsure. You only have three days- if you sleep now, it's probably annoying to him since he most likely planned something on this trip for you both to do. He at least comes across as someone who likes to have everything set out and structured- not like you, who dives in head first without any real plan. You don't want him to stay hidden inside the hotel room just because you're tired from the flight. "Hey." He asks, and you didn't even notice him squatting down in front of where you sit, his hands on your knees as he finds your eyes from where he's looking up at you. "Don't hesitate to speak your mind. If we want this to work, we need honestly, first and foremost." He encourages, and you nod.
"I'm tired- but I don't want to be boring." You worry.
"How would taking a nap be boring?" he chuckles. "I'm actually glad you're tired. I didn't want to come off as an old man who needs a break because he can't keep up." He laughs, standing up before he moves to lay down on the bed, patting the spot right next to him.
You lay down where he wordlessly suggested, taking in a deep breath while focusing your eyes on the collar of his sweater for a moment. It's when your gaze roams around that you notice something poke out on his wrist as he turns back around from removing his watch from the other arm. Your fingers curiously lift the fabric of the sleeve, making him chuckle quietly, before he moves to push the fabric up to his elbow, exposing different colors of ink underneath his skin.
What was Jungkook like when he was younger? Has he always been somewhat like this- or has he changed into this instead?
"Got them done in my early twenties too." He explains quietly. "Just.. lineart at first. Black and white." Jungkook remembers as he watches you trace some of the lines with your finger. "Then it got more. Over time, it looked a little messy- so I added color to it, this time actually going to a professional who specifies in forming sleeves." He tells you.
"Do you regret them?" You wonder. "Like.. your piercings and your tattoos?" You ask, and he shakes his head.
"It's not like I regret them." He denies. "I still like the look of them. The aesthetic of it. It's just.." He sighs, inked hand turning around palm up, and you put your own on top of his, making him move to compare your hand sizes palm to palm. "..they don't feel like me anymore." He shrugs.
"Maybe because they aren't." You offer, now holding his hand with both of yours, your eyes on the blurred ink underneath the skin. "Maybe.. you changed. Even though you didn't want to."
He did. He knows that he did- but what he struggles with, is the question if he can even go back now. He wants to, but at this point, he feels like he's crossed that line by now, too far to step back and take a different path. Most people around him nowadays only now this Jungkook, not the one he used to be. If he just reverts back to who he once was, will he lose every friendship and connection he's made after he married?
Marriage. The moment he changed.
Love can make someone truly blind to a lot of things. He overlooked so many warning signs, pushed old friends and even family away just because they saw what he did not- or more so refused to. He's not spoken to his own parents in years, by now too ashamed to admit that he'd been wrong for the entirety of his past relationship, that his mother was right about her. What would she think about you?
She'd like you, he's very sure about that. His father would probably be a little suspicious of the age gab, and his brother would most likely tease the living daylights out of him, but he knows you'd fit right in. Do you have a good relationship with your parents? What would they think of him?
He wants to ask you, but the moment he becomes aware and snaps out of his thoughts, your eyes are already closed, breathing even. You're still holding onto him, and he realizes that he's never actually had a moment like this with Evelyn in the past, not even when they were just a regular couple, and definitely not after they got married. He feels.. free. No pressure on him, no obligations awaiting him, nothing needed or expected from him. You're simply sleeping, and yet the act itself makes his pride swell, because of your display of trust towards him.
He knows you've been hurt. He knows that he's been hurt-
And maybe, just maybe, together, you can finally begin heal.
Change once more, for a final time, into a happier version of yourselves.
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anon-sect · 2 months ago
Note
I’d do anything to get close to my gym crush’s feet, could you give me a little help?
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Picture source: @paketemusculomorbo
Quinton worked out nearly every day at his favorite gym, and he kept noticing this one guy, always looking his direction but never bothering to come greet him. This attention went on for almost two months straight. He thought about going to another gym, but the guy might follow him there. Since the guy was to shy to come say hi, he would break the ice himself.
"What's up?" Quinton went over and spoke. The guy was sort of silent for a few seconds, probably because of the shock that he came over and spoke with him.
Greg was caught by surprise. "Oh, hi." He didn't know what else to say for a brief moment.
"Listen, I have been noticing you looking my way for a while. I thought I would end your nervousness. The name is Quinton, and yours." He saw that the guy was getting less uneased by now.
"Oh, I am Greg. Nice to meet you." He spoke back, seeing that his gym crush was actually kind of nice.
"Nice to meet you as well, Greg. Well, I will get back to my workout session, I just wanted to say hi." Quinton spoke as he went back to the machine he was previously at. He then noticed the rubber in his favorite shoes came loss. This was no good. Sadly, he didnt' have another pair with him. He went back over to Greg.
"Hey, could you help me with something, buddy?" Quinton asked. He saw Greg's face light up like a supernove when he asked that question.
Sure, anything." Greg quickly answered without even knowing what the request was. He followed him back to the locker room, which was surprisingly empty. He saw Quinton smiling at that. He saw him pull out his phone. With a quick snap of the camera, his whole reality changed. He found himself completely immobile with a limited view. HIs body was split in two, and each half had a solid form.
Quinton picked up the brand new shoes. They looked great. He took off his old shoes and threw them in the trash. "Sorry about this. I know we just officially met, but my old shoes are just too ruined for me to continue to work out. I needed you to be my shoes for now. I really do appreciate this." He put the shoes on his feet and went back out to finish his session. The new shoes felt way better than his old favorite pair. He could easily work out without his feet hurting now.
Greg didn't know if he was dreaming or if it was reality. He was literally being worn on his gym crush feet. The socks were already sweaty and smelled slightly. It was also painful with each step under his feet. Being shoes was quite a painful experience, not to mention sweaty and stinky. Yet, he was still loving every moment of it. He really didn't mind his gym crush using him as his shoes.
Quinton finished his nearly two hour workout. He snapped a quick picture of himself with his new shoes. He loved how they looked on his feet. He decided he would keep them. He hoped the guy didn't mind being his sneakers for a long time.
Quinton went back to the lockroom, grabbed his bag, and went to his car. Once back at his car, he took one sneaker off. "My old pair seem like they were too far gone, but I have found a new replacement for my favorite sneakers. It's you. I don't know if this is something you would want, or if you dispise me for wearing you." He paused as he thought about it. "Honestly, you don't have any choice in your life anymore. You are just my new favorite shoes now. Don't worry, I will take good care of you for sure. My last pair lasted me for years, you wil be mine forever." He put the shoe back on his foot and drove back home to take a shower.
Greg was so happy to hear what came of his fate. Quinton could wear him forever for all he cared. There was no greater pleasure than being worn by him on his feet. He wished he could express his gratitude for what he did to him, but at least he knew that he would be with his gym crush forever. That was all that mattered.
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crplpunkklavier · 1 year ago
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was thinking the other day about how people's reasons for saying that klavier is only fake german seem to be that he only went to germany to get his badge, his german speaking is clearly only a gimmick, and that in the japanese original, he is more explicitly a japanese guy who went to america once and made it his whole personality. which i understand! however, what makes me laugh about this is that everyone seems to have accepted that manfred von karma is totally german.
so, if i may.....
manfred von karma does not speak german in canon ever.
his name sounds fake. like sorry. but it does. "manfred" doesnt sound fake, no, but "von karma"??? NOBODY here is called von karma. ive met one extremely unfortunate person in my life who actually still had a "von" name, but that was when i went to a terrible private school in paris. and his name sure as shit wasnt von karma. "von karma" as a name sounds JUST as fake as "klavier"
sure, franziska was "born and raised" in germany, so she's likely to be a german citizen, but that doesn't mean that manfred was born or raised there. manfred was in the states at least long enough to build up a reputation there and to battle it out with greg edgeworth (gredgeworth)
and, most importantly: in the japanese original, the von karmas do not have english/american names. they have japanese names. sure, "karuma" COULD have been an adaptation of a western name after moving to japan, but that's not made explicit anywhere, plus the whole sword thing in dgs (u know the one) heavily implies that theyre a japanese family
what i am saying is.
what if...... what if manfred von karma is faking being german...... what if manfred von karma is the one who took on a fake german name because he thought a scary sounding nobility title would make him look cool in court. what if we have been focusing on the wrong gimmick german this whole time
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richeeduvie · 5 months ago
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Can someone please explain to me the whole baby thing? And dog bone au? And all these aus im so confused
DOG AND BONE!AU BASICS
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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.
This is asked every five months and I'm happy to explain it each time! I'll put it in the pinned post! This is a long one so sorry yall
So Dog and Bone is the title to the AU for a self-insert x Roman Roy fic compilation. There's no actual series yet…sorry, I know! How long has it been? But these fics range from entire one-shots that center around a plot that can lead into another one-shot/drabble, with the content of said piece becoming important to the whole AU, to just cute, fluffy or smutty drabbles and blurbs. Most of them are based on requests. Your request could become a big part of Dog and Bone!
BABY
Baby is the name for the self-insert. Fics will flip from a second person to third person POV, so you'll see her referred to as 'Baby' a lot. I don't consider her an OC because there's no and will never be a physical description of her and to be honest, I only started to referred to her as Baby so I could write third person POV fics when I'm lazy and don't want to go heavy in internal monologue, which is what I do for second person POV fics. I never use 'Y/N' for her or any self-insert. But many see her as other people and not themselves and I love that too!
Personality-wise, you'll find her to Roman's soulmate. Although she is still a victim of being out-of-touch due to her wealth, she's managed to be kind and respectful and just something that Roys don't have outside of her. She's the ultimate nepo baby with Logan just giving her some vague career path at Waystar to keep her around. She mostly works in marketing and spends her days with Tom and Greg. So, the story of DAB (lol). Baby is the childhood best friend of Roman (and Shiv). In the AU, Baby's biological father was Logan's best friend and business associate. She met the Roy family when she was five and when Roman when almost seven. She was meant to be the best friend of Shiv, but Roman stole her one day when Shiv when to get more toys and baby Baby was on the swings. His sister is still pissed about this to this day.
Nothing much has been mentioned of Baby's bio dad just yet, but it was a one-time thing (so understandable is yall don't remember) that we see Logan giving Baby the medal her father gave him after his funeral. He's dead and apparently fought in a war, or maybe just liked collecting medals as much as Logan did.
So, facts about the dead dad:
Maybe was a veteran
Was hinted to have given Baby an eating disorder
Died when she was eight
Possibly kept her away from her mother
Logan's her godfather, but it was Frank to take her in after her dad had passed. Frank ON TOP!!!! PAPA FRANK!!! Baby's mother is very distant and she's really only seen her for a few holidays throughout her childhood. I've always imagined her to be those wealthy hippies feigning spirituality and did maybe try to get Baby in terms of custody, but didn't try a lot - not even after Baby's father died. So, Baby gets to stay with the Roys with Frank being her guardian. With this, it's just co-dependency and possessiveness growing.
Roman and Baby don't really have friends outside of each other. They do everything together and eventually start doing relationship sort of things together. They take each others virginities. Roman gets panicky and painful in the muscles if Baby has to leave him for more than three days. It's great, but nothing's official.
They live this way until Roman gets with Tabitha.
Now, you may be thinking 'Why does he begin a relationship with Tabitha if he's so possessive and seemingly satisfied with the situation he has with Baby?' Well, I have two fics that'll help you to explain Roman's stupidity:
Why Does Rome Still Date Tabitha (They Don’t Have Sex, but Still) Kendall Wins!AU Confession
The latter of the two is a bit more personal and truthful for Roman. It can be noted that as much as I am a GerriRoman supporter, their relationship does not happen in the DogandBone!AU. Only because one, frankly, I don't know how to or have the desire to thread it throughout the story because I already kept Tabitha's plotline…which is Roman's downfall. You will see. And two, you'll find that Roman and all of the Roys, really, have a lot of themselves changed all because they have one genuine friend that's cared and loved them since childhood so that big part of Roman's plotless plot-time in canon is gone here. Grace didn't happen as well because Jesse Armstrong said so lol.
As I said, the genuine friend line applies to all of the Roys (excluding Logan, except for his AU…), but it really applies to Kendall. Going back to the point where Baby and Roman are fourteen/fifteen and fifteen/sixteen, he gets sent away to military school. I made it so he's only there for two years to which Logan just doesn't care to send him there anymore because I want Baby and Roman teenage puppy and needy love for as much as I can get it. During this time, Kendall has this belief, this kindness to take in Baby when she's at her loneliest.
and…so…Kendall and Baby's whole thing?
The link above sums up their whole situation but I'll elaborate a bit more here because there's Tern Haven. Tern Haven happens in the OG!DogandBone!AU and KendallWins!AU, the grooming situation happens in every AU.
Of course, Roman comes back and Baby sobers up for the most part and leaves groomer Kendall's ass in the dust! It's when Roman starts dating Tabitha decades later that Kendall, who never actually made a move on Baby, brings hell and tragedy to the family. Baby's not so keen on continuing to have sex and the weird thing she has with Roman as he is with Tabitha around, so she becomes lonely and thoughtful in the need to reconnect with friends, maybe start dating herself. She's there during Tern Haven and can't go to Roman's room to hang out, Tabitha's there. She doesn't bother Shiv and Tom, she could talk with Frank, maybe? Maybe, but she makes her way to Kendall's room.
And whatever high horse Kendall put himself on for not doing anything with Baby, maybe not being in love with her - or at least having no awareness about it, whatever was starting with Naomi, it's gone when Baby enters that room.
Again, Tern Haven happens in Kendallwins!AU and the OG!AU. The only difference is that after, Roman is either successful in pulling Baby away from Kendall, or he isn't. This is where it can get confusing as it can with all the AUs because there's so many little splices of moments within content that really helps you understand how things happen but I can say that the Kendallwins!AU is just sad, scary, and dark.
But enough of that!
OG!DOGANDBONE!AU
After Roman's successful in getting Kendall away from Baby, he immediately breaks up with Tabitha and they heal from what happened. Kendall declines quickly during this. Logan dies and they get married after the GoJo sale. They have Baby Jr. On occasion, we'll have fun and write them having two more kids, Baby Jr Jr and Roman Jr, but they aren't canon - or they at least would get a canon fic like Baby
FICS TO HELP: Romulus Sneakers | Dad Frank feat. Baby Roman Call Them Brothers Back in Town Bone and Her Heart Roman’s a Friend Stealer While you were sleeping Touch Me (I'm Sick) Date Death | Part One Date Death Part 2 Babied (He Loves It) Violet, Blue, Green, Red To Keep Me Out Phone Call Home Baby Baby in “I went to Market” Baby in ‘Too Much Birthday’ After the GoJo Sale Telling Roman She's Pregnant
BABY JR
Baby Jr is an unrealistically perfect angel of a child that belongs to Roman and Baby in their AU and was born a preemie with a slew of health problems, but because I love her so much, it's becoming a running joke for her to just exist in every AU, somehow. if Baby's there, Baby Jr's there. She's named fittingly. You'll see her a lot in smaller blurbs and fics. Another running joke is that she hates Kendall in every AU, though she's barely mentioned outside of the OG! and Loganwins!AU.
JUST MY FAVORITE BABY JR FICS:
Baby Baby's First and Last Day at School Bear Baby Jr! Baby Jr Doing Something Dangerous Connor Taking Baby Jr Fishing Baby Jr seeing Baby Roman with Glasses
VARIATIONS OF THE OG!AU
They aren't mentioned a lot anymore because we don't get so serious about them and it was more just to have fun with the story, but the OG!AU does have some variations to how the plot goes. You have Baby and Roman having Baby Jr before season one where Tabitha and Tern Haven are things that obviously never happened:
If Roman Knocked Baby Up Logan Bullying Baby Jr YoungBornBabyJr!AU With Roman Forcing Baby to Marry Him Roman Drunk and Loving If Roman Knocked Baby Up in Their 20s If Baby Jr was Little in The Pilot Logan’s Baby Jr Favoritism Where’s Your Daughter?
Then, you have Baby dying and Roman killing himself to leave Baby Jr an orphan: Come Time, Baby Jr Missing Mommy.
Or you have Baby AND Baby Jr dying to leave Roman killing himself after his last moments of suffering…which, I can't find, but do we really want to read that?
If you don't want to suffer, it can end simply as a nightmare Roman had in the night. Here's another Nightmare Blurb.
LOGANWINS!AU
Listen. I CANNOT be the only person who has consistently written for Logan. I CANNOT! But I do and Baby is unfortunately the victim of a joke turned into a horniness for an old, old man.
Logan doesn't actually have a fic establishing the Loganwins!AU. Everything that's longer than a blurb are moments that already take place after they've gotten together. Tern Haven does not take place here because it appears that this…intimate relationship takes place before season one. Roman doesn't get together with Tabitha in this AU because he's really fucked up about his soulmate having sex and marriage with his…Dad. His abusive Dad. Baby Jr does exist here! This started as a joke to get people grossed out over old man Logan cock, I played it so I was DISGUSTED to appease any requests that were sent in. I really was. I don't know what happened. But a lot of what is written expands past Logan x Reader and more about the AU itself, which happens with Kendallwins! and the OG!AU too.
FICS TO HELP: THE OFFICE CONFRONTATION Mondale The Second Baseball Sick Baby Jr Mom(my) Siblings and Baby Jr Buzz off! Sister Shiv Recital Alone Baby Jr How Does The Relationship Begin? How Does Logan Propose? Are Baby and Roman Still Close? Pregnancy Announcement in the AU They Bought a Cat Who's Baby Jr's Godfather? Panty Stealer Roman's Twitter Argument
You guys are lucky I can't find the smut fic I wrote. But it's here on this blog. Somewhere.
Nvm here it is my bad: Reflections.
AFFAIR!AU
There's the Loganwins!AU, then there's the Affair!AU, which was established pretty recently. It's where Baby begins an affair with Roman while she's married to Logan and Baby Jr ends up being Roman's daughter, not his little sister. As much as I have accepted my great enjoyment in indulging the Logan lovers, I do think this is Baby at her most Succession.
She gets the benefits of being Logan's wife and his favorite wife, a cute daughter, Roman at her heel, whining for her to really be with him but knowing he'll never leave her at her denial. She's horrible, a whore. A baddie winning.
FICS TO HELP: Baby Jr being Roman's Daughter Roman and Newborn Baby Jr Baby in the Affair!AU Roman revealing she's his to his siblings "Dada" A Slight Confrontation How does it start? In Dad's Bed
GROOMING SITUATION (OG!AU and KENDALLWINS!AU)
So, I explained most of it above, but these are the fics to help understand just how messed up DogandBone!Kendall is. He's a different man, guys.
(Also Stewy was there. Stewy was her friend. A flawed twenty-something year old who didn't care enough to separate himself from Kendall when noticing the red flags of him and Baby, but he denied, denied, denied. But he also gave Baby some sense of being…ya know, a kid…cause he saw her as a CHILD)
Tern Haven:
Tern Haven EXTENDED TERN HAVEN More of Tern Haven (…Yay…)
Ken's Groomer Era:
Sleepover Drugged Up Heart Does Baby go Clubbing With Kendall? The Birthday (Big One) Kendall being Confused That Baby's Not Jealous More of Ken being Confused That Baby's Not Jealous Sleepover 2 Kendall's Birthday Gifts....
The Aftermath:
Smacktalking During Too Much Birthday Bad Bit
There's more, of course. There's always more.
KENDALLWINS!AU
After Tern Haven, Kendall has Baby. He's won Baby. He gets more addicted to drugs while making her dependent on them. He turns her into nothing - and just for him. He's scary and paranoid when it comes to Roman. A variation of the AU would be the Babydies!AU, where she accidently overdoses after he leaves her alone. It's a lot. This is not a fun AU, guys. But I like to write it!
FICS TO HELP:
Housewife Thing Waystar Press Conference Accusing Baby Jr of Not Being His Roman Trying to Get Baby Back From Kendall A Slight, Brotherly Confrontation Daily Does of Horror (Heroin) Mention of Heroin Handsy Baby and Kendall and Pills Panty Stealer Brother Roman's Dick Pics Saying Roman's Name Flower Delivery
THE OD FICS:
No Time Needled Memories
NOW....
SHIV'S AU
Shiv's AU isn't even a win!AU, technically. We haven't really dabbled in the idea of her winning. Just more of her yearning, but all in all, this woman wants Baby soooo badly. Too sad she has the guilt of being a woman. And her father. And Tom. And the denial hot on her skin.
Calling Shiv Shiv
TOM'S AU
Apparently the man can get obsessed and they haven't even kissed in his AU, yet. Fitting considering the shit he pulls with Greg. It's Baby at her most guilty due to her friendship with Shiv.
KARL'S AU
No.
STEWY'S AU
I give crumbs and only crumbs. But we're getting something started with Wedding Bells (Part One)!
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.
I hope this helps! xoxo
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cookieruma29 · 10 months ago
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What are Cass and Evs personalitys like in vengeful Greg au/golden hour?
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The personalities of Cassidy and Evan are polar opposites . When Evan was still alive, he avoided interactions with others and remained quiet, believing that people would like him solely because his dad owned a pizzeria and they would be able to get free pizza. Cassidy doesn't have many friends, despite being a talkative person. Although they did became friends, but after the bite of 83 Cassidy spent much of his time in her home. During the time they are together in Golden Freddy, they developed a strong desire to exact revenge on the person responsible for all of the killings and the initial cause of the problems. Even though they both still have resentment, in security breach they will help kids escape from murderers, like assisting Gregory in figuring out how to stop Vanny and anybody else who was assisting her, so together they could ultimately put an end to the evil. Sorry for not making it clear, the name of the au is vengeful Evan au since the main focus of this au is Evan's resentment and fury, but my attention right now is on them assisting Gregory in security breach.
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formosusiniquis · 6 months ago
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have your cake
So way back in August 2023 the steddiemicrofic challenge was Cake and 311 words, my head empty brain came up with one thought and it was Steve Munson having a bakery called Mun's Buns and so many months later I finally got around to finishing my vision
Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins; implied/past Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington/Carol Perkins WC: 6408 | T | tags: Future Fic, the lightest of post homoerotic friendship breakup angst, fluff, Tommy POV AO3
The bakery has a stupid name, is the first thing Tommy thinks when Carol tells him where he's supposed to meet her on his lunch break. He’s still thinking that, when he sees the place for the first time through his rain speckled windshield. It's a modest storefront, small for what Carol says is a booming business, tucked in next to a used bookstore and a music shop. There's a baby yellow awning hanging from the front just underneath a sign lettered in soft blue that reads Mun's Buns.
He's late, is the second thing he thinks after pulling up. Caught up in some stupid bullshit for his dad he hadn't managed to slip away until 12:30. Even then it had only been because Tommy had told him he was going to be late for their cake tasting. He'd rolled his eyes when his father and Greg, a guy that Tommy only considers a co-worker in the sense that they are technically on the same payroll since Greg in every other aspect is incompetent and an idiot, had winced. Shooing him away like a kid who'd just admitted that he's already twenty minutes past curfew. But catching sight of the way Carol has her arms crossed, tapping her foot fast enough to kickstart a motor, while her hair hangs limp in a way that it hadn’t this morning a third thought crosses his mind: maybe he should have been a little more worried.
Waiting isn’t going to make things any better. So he steps out of the car, let’s the misty damp cling to him in a way that makes his dress pants and button down feel like a poorly tailored second skin, and takes his licks like a man. "Late, thirty minutes late. Christ, it's the only thing I've asked from you Tommy." Her right hook stings just as badly as it did sophomore year when she punched him for asking out Erin Murphy instead of her.
Shit like that is probably why no one expected them to make it this long or this far.
When they went away to college; different schools, hours apart. His parents had been gleeful as they'd warned him that high school relationships didn't always last. That he should keep his options open, he didn't want to miss out on the love of his life just because of comfort. He didn't get offered the family ring when he decided to propose right after graduation. Carol has always been particular. Wanted the house to come back to before the wedding could happen, wanted a long honeymoon. That meant saving, a lot of it. Tommy knew and Carol did too, they'd overheard his mother and aunt gossiping in too loud voices after too much wine that they hoped the long engagement meant they were both trying to figure out a good way to break it off with one another. 
Still, over the course of their now five year engagement no one's asked once if they wanted to trade for it.
Carol thought it was horrendous anyway. She’d had her ring picked out since ‘85, styled her class ring so it would look like the oval cut diamond she wanted. Had him slide it on her finger the second it came in.
Cause in the politest of terms, Carol could be a raging bitch. She was Tommy's favorite person in the entire world.
There’s going to be a bruise on his shoulder tomorrow, even if she’s guiltily smoothing a hand down his arm now. Thrust toward the door first in offering, Carol is sorry she hit him but she’s not apologetic. “I’m serious, Tom, if we lose this appointment and have to go with Sweet Treats for our cake I'll- I'll-"
Whatever threat she was preparing is drowned out and then cut off by the echoing TONG of the door chime. A light in the back shifts color for a second, out of place enough that he wonders if he even really saw it. Head tilting toward Carol, his question catches in his throat when he notices her pinched off appraising. Better not to add to the ammunition she might already be building.
And if Carol is looking he better do it too. She'll want to debrief when they're having dinner tonight, just like they did with the florist, the caterer, the three wedding planners they'd met with, and each of the venues that they'd visited. And it wasnt because she was demanding, fuck you Greg. It wasn't because she was being nitpick-y, alright it was a little bit because she was but he liked being particular with her. He liked being involved in his wedding.
So he looked around.
The way they utilized their space -- a building that big and there's barely enough room to stand, we want someone who knows how to work with limited space for the venues we're looking at -- was the reason their first wedding planner hadn't gotten hired. Small, but not cramped. There are a handful of tables scattered in the open space in front of the counter. It’s the kind of small town cozy that Hawkins had tried for and he doesn’t see very often anymore now that they’ve moved out to Indianapolis.
It’s lunchtime, still too early for people to be seeking out the rows of deserts in their neat glass counter and too late for the breakfast crowd. But one of the tables is occupied by a teenager with long, black braids scribbling in a notebook while a slice of ice cream cake melts on a plate by her elbow. 
Everything was neat, organized, and compliant with health code regulations -- they hadn’t even made it in the door of the first caterer’s when she noticed a trail of ants and roaches marching into the open kitchen door.
Carol had always been quick when she was making up her mind about something. Like those Sherlock Holmes stories they’d had to read in school, in a couple of seconds she could spot everything she needed to make a decision. After a decade Tommy still couldn’t keep up; but he was always best at following someone else’s lead.
The smile she’s got frosted across her face is as sugary and fake as the roses on the cupcakes he can see behind the low topped counters as she approaches the only visible staff member. A girl, young in the way that nebulous way anyone younger than him was now, with thick squared glasses that magnified two distressingly blue eyes. The counters looked like they were designed to sit low enough that she could easily see over the top while in her wheelchair.
“Welcome to,” her customer service tone borders on bored. Two words into a clear script and she sighs, as if saying the name physically pains her, “Mun’s Buns. We’ve got a special series of summer flavors: Strawberry Lemonade, Lavender Mint, Chocolate Fudgsicle, and,” she sighs again, “for the grownups a boozy Blue Moon with orange zest.”
“How about a wedding cake.” He’s impressed. Carol made it through the speech without interrupting.
“Do you have an appointment?” the girl raises her voice, enough to make them both flinch back. Customer service isn’t a requirement for this part of the job necessarily, but Carol had bailed on two venues because the staff hadn’t been polite enough.
Her smile doesn’t crack though, “Yes.”
Even though he’s pretty sure this girl has to be basically blind with the inch thick frames, she levels Carol with a lethal stare. “Not you.”
From the open entryway behind her Tommy had been able to make out what sounded like the highlights of yesterday’s game. He assumed that space had to be the kitchen where these rows of deserts were made. He’s still surprised when a guy’s voice is shouting back, “I don't know, Max, do I? Why don't you check?”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Max shouts back, glowering at then in stand in for her mystery boss.
“With your finger, asshole. It's in braille. When I gave you this job you said you were actually gonna work.”
“Douchebag." Her eyes never leave them, while her hands rummage around in a space beneath the counter where the cash register sits. Max offers no explanation or apology for her shouting or for her boss. A large red appointment book gets slammed down on the nearest counter, making Carol jump but the neat two by twos of chocolate frosted cupcakes don't budge. He watches, a little fascinated by the way her finger scans the page before slowing. "Did you write this or did Dustin?"
Carol has always valued gossip over professionalism, he thinks that’s why she’s done so well as a hairdresser even though she was always awful at chemistry. It’s also why he’s held off from pointing out that they could solve this a lot faster if this guy would come out from the back. "Why?" 
“Cause one of you can't spell and one of you is trying to invent braille shorthand. So I'm not really sure what to do with TomGan Wed.”
“It might be Thomas and Wedding.” Carol leans over the appointment book as she says it, using a tone of voice he has never once heard her use in the entire time he’s known her. He thinks it’s supposed to be helpful.
“Wedding sampler.” The girl calls toward the back, “It's getting late.”
“I’ve got it,” the voice from the back shouts back.There’s an effortless assurance Tommy can hear from where he’s standing. It hits him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he grabs Carol’s arm on instinct.
“Really,” she says, cutting her gaze over to him. He’s not sure what she sees. “If we could hurry this along, it's just we've only got an hour.”
“You're late.” The glare she gets shuts Carol down faster than he’s ever seen.
“Right.”
“Okay I've got it.” The voice from the back is now the voice in the doorway. Hidden for a second by a serving tray loaded with samples of rich looking cake, it’s the first time since arriving that Tommy has actually wanted to be here. Not just because he can make out strong shoulders and a body of a man that’s still very fit but clearly enjoys his work too; the hint of love handles above strong thighs. Only then that tray dips, and for the first time since 1985 Tommy finds himself looking at the shocked hazel eyes of Steve Harrington. “Oh.”
Carol reacts for him, taking in a breath sharp enough she might puncture a lung. They’ll both wind up suffocated on the floor of this stupid bakery with an awful name, because Tommy can’t manage to breathe at all looking at Steve. Still unfairly handsome, faintly pink at the shock of seeing them too he imagined.
His hair is long, is the first real thought his half fried brain manages to put together. Soft looking even where it’s damp at the temples where sweat has pooled. He has it pulled back with a couple of the same butterfly clips that Carol likes to use.
His second, somehow more hysterical thought: this wasn’t how Steve Harrington was supposed to be included in his wedding.
Tommy was six years old and knew he wanted to marry Steve. When he’d told his mom -- to ask for her ring, Steve thought it was romantic like princes and princesses that they had a special ring that they got married with -- she’d grabbed by his arm so hard it’d left finger shaped bruises. So he’d held that certainty quiet in his heart until he was ten, and suddenly it was okay to want to play with girls on the playground -- he thinks it’s because Steve got tired of there never being an even number when they tried to play kickball, he had a way of making everyone want to do the thing he was. Carol wasn’t afraid to tell Tommy C. that he was dumb or to tell Mark L. that he hadn’t actually made it to the base, Steve liked her fast. Too fast, and Tommy had to tell her that one day he was going to be able to keep Steve all to himself. But he knew that it wasn’t right to say that now, even if he wasn’t all the way sure why it wasn’t. He was ten, but he would be eleven soon, and he took this part of him that he’d kept secret for so long and he whispered it to Carol under the slide while Steve tried to convince Brad P. that he could too pick two people for his kickball team first.
He was ten and Carol said they could share. Boys can’t marry boys, but girls can. So they could both marry her and live together forever.
It became a joke when they finally shared it with Steve, thirteen and boys going out with girls wasn’t funny the way it used to be. Sarah Jane asked Carol if she had a chance at going steady with Steve. She told Tommy about it later and they both told Steve that he was too good to date any of the girls in their grade. “Well I’ve got you guys,” his voice cracked when he said it, throwing an arm around both of them. Carol didn’t care as much, but even she’d noticed the way Steve was changing from boyish to handsome.
They were sixteen and disaster was just around the corner, not that he knew that. Steve dated around but he always came back to them. The head, the heart, the body. They don’t feel complete without each other -- at least Tommy doesn’t. Mr. Kripke, who was hungover more often than he wasn't, passed out ten minutes into study hall. Carol didn’t even wait to see if he’d wake back up before she left her assigned table for theirs. She smoothed out a lined piece of notebook paper for them, and Tommy scoffed like he was supposed to. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing MASH?”
“It’s dirty MASH, and I thought you’d think it was funny.”
“I think it’s funny,” Steve had said, “that you’re getting eiffel towered on your wedding night. Who else is joining in, Carrie?”
“We couldn’t agree on who got you for their side of the aisle. So we’re taking you to bed instead.”
He was sixteen and the way that the two of them looked when they shared a joke was the hottest thing in the world. The way their smiles mirror when they turned to him, sharp and ready to flay open the softest parts of him.
Tommy’s two days older when Steve lets him kiss the taste of Carol out of his mouth.
It was three days after he turned seventeen and he had to pretend he didn't want to die when he saw how Steve looked at Nancy Wheeler. Like he didn’t want to rip his hair out because Steve was fucking infatuated with this mousy little teacher’s pet and wouldn’t even look at him anymore.
He still doesn’t like to think about the breakup. He pokes it like a fresh bruise. Less often now, but when he does he digs his fingers in. Baits Carol into fights he doesn’t mean just so he can pretend like he hasn’t lost something that hurts like a limb.
Steve Harrington turns twenty-eight next week, and he’s standing in front of them both holding pieces of what might turn into their wedding cake.
“Wow I can’t believe you’re in Indy!” False excitement grates, but at least Carol has gotten herself together enough to speak. He thought he’d have at least another few months to prepare for the thought of seeing Steve, by their ten year reunion he was going to be married and happy and over it.
“Yeah, this is- Married, wow! I kinda can’t believe you haven’t already.” He says it to Carol, his platitudes had always been for Carol, but his eyes find Tommy. 
While Carol chatters at them and for them both, nervous, he knows she’s nervous. The situation is sudden and strange and fraught. But Tommy just looks at Steve, who looks at him. He’s getting married in three months, one week, and two days from now and for the first time in eleven years Steve is looking at him.
"Takes a while to save up for when you want the best of everything. Dad's still the skinflint he always was, I think he'd pay me less than minimum wage if he could get away with it."
And those soft brown eyes look so sad, looking at him. Sometimes he thinks no one will ever understand him the way that Steve did.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best, or having a long engagement." Carol defends. It's the same line she's been giving everyone. Defensive of him and herself and the choices they've been making. He can't believe Steve is someone she thinks they have to defend against.
“I really hope you're happy, man," he says, and the sincerity is a balm on the sting of this conversation. He pushes his hair back from his face, the way he always has when he's uncomfortable and trying not to make it obvious. And there's a fresh new hurt when Tommy catches sight of a plain gold band on Steve's finger, shining bright between the golden highlights of his hair.
“I’m happy about this,” he can say honestly. Carol is one of the only things he’s ever been sure about. She held him steady as she could when his other sure thing left him with a cracked foundation in a convenience store parking lot. “What about you? How long after meeting the future Mrs. Harrington did you wait to put a ring on her finger?”
“Tommy,” Carol chides as the teen in the corner snorts. To anyone else it would sound like a reprimand for being nosy, he, and he suspects Steve, knows she’s telling him to stop worrying a scab that has no hope of healing right.
Married and they didn’t know. Wouldn’t have found out until the reunion. It’s not like he expected an invitation, maybe an engagement announcement sent to their parents’ houses. They’d sent one to Loch Nora when the real ring had finally made it to Carrie’s finger. It was equal parts olive branch and offering. They’d gotten it back return to sender with no forwarding address.
The bell above the door tongs again, loud enough to make Carol jump. The platter of cakes doesn't shift at all in Steve’s hand. His arm shows no sign of fatigue. It’s almost distracting enough that he misses the obvious. The bell signals someone is coming into the store.
“Sorry, Sweetheart. I know I said I wasn't gonna be late but Mike…” There just inside the door is the Freak. Undeniable even with his head down as he digs through his shoulder bag. From the riot of poorly maintained tangles that still hang around his shoulders to the expanded mess of tacky ink on his arms. The only thing that’s changed is the age in his face and the band on his shirt.
“Munson?” Carol has the reflexes and the personal grace to address him first. Shock more than the disgust it might have been when they were still kids.
Tommy feels like a kid still. Looks to Steve in an instinct he’d thought he’d stamped out years ago, only to be met with wide eyes and teeth grit tight enough to draw out the square line of his jaw.
“Christ, I still get nightmares that start like this.” Munson says, eye darting between the three of them. “Max, am I naked?”
“Don't know, don't wanna know.”
“I thought you'd be able to tell by the energy in the room.” He wiggles his fingers, still bedecked in silver, like they can divine the vibrations or some witchy shit.
That’s enough to make Steve break just a little. A soft, exhaling scoff before he finally starts to move out from the counter. Tommy catches, and he doubts Carol misses it either, how Steve passes the closer tables to set his tray down between them and Munson.
“I can tell I don't want to be here for this.” Their redheaded audience member says, “I'm taking my 15.”
“Don't go harass Mike, he's finally working,” Munson says.
“Will and El are on shift on the other side,” Steve calls out, not looking at any of them as he moves cakes from his tray to the table. A deliberate selection he seems to be making.
“Whatever, I’m gonna call Lucas and break up with him so he can play better or whatever.”
“Don’t be too harsh,” Munson calls out, “I’ve only got him on a five point spread.”
If Carol’s nails break from how hard they’re digging into his arm, somehow it’ll be Tommy’s fault. Not the fact that they’ve advanced the worst part of their ten year reunion by months, and also Munson is here and knows shit about basketball.
“Sorry, think my hearing’s going, sounded like you said you want him to lose and he’s getting kicked from the next one shot. I’ll let him know.”
“She gets that from you,” Steve and Munson say in sync. Glaring playfully at one another the way Steve used to with Carol.
“I’ll tell Robin you were-”
“Do not sick Buckley on me, Max made the deaf joke not me.”
“Weird, that’s not what I heard.” Steve has always claimed his hair as his best feature. It isn’t -- Carrie liked his eyes, Tommy his hands -- but it’s hard to deny that it doesn’t look good, flipping over his shoulder. His smile is private, just for Munson, soft the way he got whenever he picked up a new girl. Carrie taps the back of his hand, two sharp smacks, their signal for years that he needed to pay attention and notice something she had. Wide, nervous eyes dart to Steve -- like he hadn’t already been looking at Steve -- so he does his best to assess the way Carol would.
Jealous, viciously, Steve had been theirs in every way that mattered since they were ten years old and Carol had never liked sharing her toys with anyone but them. She watched his face for any sign of unhappiness anytime a new girlfriend came along, and when she found one she passed it along to him. So he could pick and joke until Steve was all theirs again.
So he checked the face. Tried to ignore the way Steve was lit up from the inside out with a joy he could barely remember, and then he saw the hearing aid.
He tapped back, three times. O.M.G.
“The 1985 Homecoming court here to reveal that this has all been a long con, Stevie?”
“Yeah I faked the name change paperwork and picked up a fake ID, sorry I took my business somewhere else.” Steve says it with the sincerity he’s always made those kind of jokes with, his strange sense of humor never coming across when he always sounded so serious. 
Munson gets it though, snorts loud and ugly, before a smile pulls wide across half his face the otherside taught with a gnarly scar. “Now I know why my fake ID business went belly up when we got to the city, not like I only sold three in high school.”  He gestures to the three of them in a wide arc.
Sophomores, they had decided it was time to throw their first real party now that Steve’s parents had moved out of Hawkins in all but name. Steve was a latchkey kid of new proportions and took to self sufficiency in a way that had seemed adult to him then; and in hindsight looked more like a child fighting for his life. Steve bragged how he’d been saving up the weekly checks they’d sent to ‘sustain him’ while they worked in the city during the week. His contribution to Tommy and Carol’s vague plan to throw a kegger by the pool. When they’d floundered, immediately, with the hows, Steve had been the one to suggest going to Munson.
“Love this preview of the reunion,” Carol cuts in, there’s no bite but Munson bristles anyway like she’s being rude for reminding them that there are customers present. “Steve?”
It’s funny, Tommy thinks, the way Steve still straightens his back at Carol’s tone. All this time and he can’t fight the old ingrained instincts either.
“Dustin made the appointment,” Steve apologizes, even as he’s posture perfect and preparing his pastries. The unsaid, ‘I definitely wouldn’t have’ doesn’t go unheard and it doesn’t sting any less even this far from their last interaction.
“Munson could join us,” Tommy offers, a new olive branch since their last one was never seen. Even if it does raise three sets of brows and makes Carrie’s nervous smile tighten even more in the corner of her mouth.
“Well at least one of us has to,” Munson, Eddie, says. Just says, tone like it was meant to be something said under his breath.
He's grown up a lot since high school, they both have. Still, he's only got twenty minutes left on his lunch break and it's been a long day. "God, is that why it's called that?" Growth, he doesn't say that Steve Munson sounds a lot dumber than Steve Harrington.
"It's charming," Carol and Steve both say. Though Carrie is definitely lying and Steve barely gets it out from between his gritted teeth, a sore spot. He's always been good at finding Steve's bruises.
"It's charming," Tommy agrees, like he always did when he was out voted.
Eddie has a smirk spread across his face and a ‘too proud of himself’ look in his eyes. Mouth open to make some quip that Tommy is going to pretend is funny, for Steve’s sake. Now that they’re here, he’s going to do something to show that they could talk to one another again. Steve clicks his tongue, taps his index and middle finger down to his thumb two quick times before he can.
He turns to the girl in the corner, "Erica, scram, go help Robin and the kids with the new donation that just came in."
The teen continues to scribble in the notebook in front of her, bulky headphones over her ears, she makes no sign that Tommy can see that she's heard Steve speak. "Erica, go, or I'll tell your mother you moved out of the dorms. You're 20, it's not child labor, and you've got a timecard."
She sighs and wordlessly packs up her things, she gives Steve a scathing look that takes Tommy back to high school. The withering eyebrow and rolled eyes would have been just at home on Steve’s own face in 1985, but she marches behind the counter, the sound of her dish rattling in the sink before she disappears out the same door that the redhead had gone out.
Now that the room has been cleared, an awkward silence has found the space to squeeze in. Munson, the original, still standing in the doorway and Steve standing between his unlawfully wedded husband and the two people who had lost their chance at him years ago.
The wedding and the reunion both on the horizon had dredged up a nostalgia that Tommy and Carol had been dealing with in their own ways. Dredging up old yearbooks, Carol had found a shoebox of old notes that she’d kept. Conversations written in three different inks by three different hands, nonsensical after all this time. Tommy woke up from dreams that he hadn’t had in years. Always of Steve and Carol, a study in opposites, but similar where it mattered.
“Well,” Steve says, taking charge of the situation like he always would when the other two faltered, “you’re here for a reason. We might as well get started on it.”
Steve’s fingerprints are still on them, just like he’d noticed theirs on him, molded as they were together. They’ve always bowed to his expectations, and his whims. When he ushers them to the table with a spread hand, Tommy and Carol go where they’re beckoned.
And so does Munson.
They keep an empty chair between them, an artificial divide for Tommy’s sanity, but with the sprawl of Munson’s legs their knees still occasionally brush together. Carol had taken the spot closest to Steve, who has stayed standing. He is their gracious host, marking the head of the round table.
“I pulled out the full sampler before I realized it was you,” Steve says. Even with as off balance as the interaction has felt, Tommy doesn’t feel his hackles raising. While it’s possible he’s gotten more subtle with his digs, Steve’s vicious tongue was usually unmistakable. “I can tell you about as many of them as you want though if you want to pretend like we don’t already know what I’ll be making you. I’m sure neither of you have eaten lunch yet.”
“You are going to take us on?” Carol asks. Shock always gives her tone an extra edge, defensive and catty, even if she’s really just waiting to see if another shoe will drop.
“Obviously,” Steve says, placing a faintly orange square of cake in front of her. He slaps Eddie’s hand away from another piece without looking away from either of them. “That’s as far as I’ll be going in participation though.”
He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s mouth twitches up with the joke, a filthy smirk that leaves Tommy flushing hot. Too warm to not be a bright and obvious red at the acknowledgment of that old private in-joke.
It doesn’t get better when Carol moans, “Oh my god, Steve!” Even if it is about the cake.
He laughs, and Tommy suspects the two are actually trying to kill him. He chances a glance over at Munson who looks like he doesn’t care at all that his husband has made Tommy’s fiance moan. He is watching Tommy though, an inquisitive look like the one Carol gets when she happens to catch a nature documentary.
“Yeah,” Steve agrees with Carol, “I’ll do something small with that citrus cake for you and Tom so you’ve got something you’ll actually eat on your wedding, maybe a pineapple buttercream on top like that nasty Juicy Fruit gum you like so much.”
“I mean it’s really crazy how you’re so good at this when you’ve never had any taste,” Carol compliments, she never did learn how to be nice.
He could probably count Steve’s teeth in the answering smile. Tommy can feel it like an ache in his chest how much he missed this. He snatches another cube of cake off the tray just so has something else to focus on.
“That’s the fancy one for the people who hate their guests,” Munson says as the cake has settled on the flat of Tommy’s tongue.
“It’s lavender,” Steve corrects, and the floral flavor is lodged in the back of his throat at least gives him a reason now to feel so choked up. “And it is for a particular sort of bride.”
“Are you saying I’m not fancy and particular, Munson?” Carol asks. 
She’s obviously talking to Eddie Munson, who lifts his hands up in answer. But it’s Steve who says, “If you tried to feed that to Gail she would leave the reception bitching the whole time.”
“Well go on,” Tommy finds himself goading now that he’s swallowed, “finish calling your shot, Stevie. You said you knew what we were walking out of here with.”
Carol reaches across the table, locking eyes with Eddie as she snags the piece closest to him. The one his fingers had been inching toward like he thought Steve wouldn’t notice him trying to take it.
“I’ll make a small citrus cake for you, Carrie, we’ll hide it in the back of the larger cake so you can get the pictures of you cutting it and smashing into each other's faces-”
“We will not be doing that,” she interrupts, the warning for him and also unnecessary. He already knows how she feels about being embarrassed in public.
“Then the big cake for your guests will be a chocolate cake, I can cover it in a buttercream or a fondant icing also chocolate, because it’s the only kind of cake the Hagan family will eat. Even though I’m sure John hasn’t given you a dime for the wedding, he’ll complain until Hannah gets married if he doesn’t like the cake.”
“Really,” Steve continues, “the only thing up in the air is how many people you were able to get away with not inviting, Care.”
The two of them start talking actual wedding logistics, and as Tommy grabs another bite of cake -- this one looks like it might be a normal flavor -- he figures the real show of good faith would be talking to the only other person at the table while he eats what Steve correctly dubbed his lunch.
“Y’know he never actually answered me,” he says in an undertone.
Munson seems surprised at being spoken to, only widens his eyes in response to Tommy’s unasked question.
“I asked Steve how soon after the first date he proposed, he never actually answered.”
Eddie softens at the edges before he can even say anything. Steve had a way of doing that, bringing out the romantic in a person. He loved with a passion that demanded it be matched. “Technically I proposed to him, but he says it doesn’t count because we weren’t together and I was high on morphine after a major surgery and thought he was Apollo, come to whisk me away.” The smile on Munson’s face looks dopey and drugged up now, like the very memory of whatever hospital stay is so ingrained in his mind he can feel the high now.
“But,” he goes on, “he told me we were getting married whether it was legal or not about three months after he got legally married to another woman.”
“Stop,” Steve has always been able to sense when he’s about to be the butt of the joke. He has a finger pointed at Eddie like a teacher delivering a lecture. “You can’t tell people that. It was for tax reasons, I’m not cheating on my wife.”
“You say tomato, I say whichever one of us is your least favorite has to be the extramarital affair.”
“I say, you’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” Tommy can hear the warm affection behind the insult, the way their picking is a safer way to express their passion for one another.
He thought he would be jealous of whoever finally managed to reel in Steve Harrington for good, and he is. The emotion is there, present in the snarling tangle of emotions that this encounter has left in him. One that he and Carol will have to slowly tease and pick out tonight when they’re home in bed. Trying to make sense of what each thread is and what it means for them. But the one bright pulsing thread he can make sense of is happiness. He’s happy for Steve, happy that he gets to see an old friend so at ease and obviously cared for.
And he’s sad that his time is up, his lunch hour so close to an end he’ll be late getting back to the office. Something he can already hear his Dad and fucking Greg giving him shit for. Which means they have to end their time here.
Steve walks them to the door, flips the sign to mark them closed for lunch.
“Congratulations again, you two,” he says, “I really am happy I can get to be a part of this with you all. Even if it’s a little different than we used to imagine.”
Carol reaches out for the both of them, puts her hand on his arm. Tommy finds that he’s the one who actually says, “We’re glad you found someone who makes you this happy, dude. You deserve it.”
“Yeah, he’s alright most of the time.” It's said with such fondness it becomes a declaration. It’s hard to imagine how they thought they could ever be the something that could make Steve this happy. But maybe in a different life, under different circumstances it could have been.
There’s a minute where they all stand in the doorway. He wonders if they’re all afraid that this might be the last time they see each other, speak to one another, until Steve is delivering the cake on the day of the wedding. Maybe it’s just him, he was the one who pushed back the hardest after things ended.
Someone finally gives in and pushes the door open. It’s TONG a death toll for their current conversation. But it also sends a jolt through Steve, he straightens to his full height like a shock has gone through him. “Here,” he says, “here, um.” He digs around in his apron until he finds a pen and a receipt pad. Jots down something before tearing it off and putting it in Tommy’s hands, “It's our home number, in case you have any cake emergencies or something.”
They really can’t stay any longer.
Carol takes the note, better at keeping track of these things than Tommy is. It’s hard to know if they’ll actually use it, maybe after they talk about it, but if they do she’ll be the one to do it. She’s always been braver than him.
There’s no way of guaranteeing anything but the fact that they’ll have a cake on the table on their wedding day. But he hopes that Steve might stay for the ceremony once he brings it, he can even bring Eddie if that’s what gets him there. 
Alone in his car, Tommy lets himself take a minute to think about Steve Harrington one last time. He isn’t going to get what he wanted as a kid. Doubts that he’ll ever be as close to Steve as he’d been in childhood, too much time has passed and too much has changed.
But there’s an opportunity to get to know Steve Munson, and he isn't going to pass it up. Even if he doesn’t know how to name a bakery.
107 notes · View notes
shmaptainwrites · 26 days ago
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𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 [𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘]
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PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader [Modern!AU]
SUMMARY — Gregory gets hurt and calls Reader for help.
WORD COUNT — 3K
WARNINGS — hospitals, injury
NOTE — And now for some much needed time to connect with Gregory! I remember loving this chapter a lot when I first wrote it and it still has a special place in my heart so I hope you all enjoy too
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑
𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑿𝑰: 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑱𝑼𝑺𝑻…𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑬
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When you woke up to the sound of your ringtone in the middle of the night, you thought you were hallucinating. 
You blinked your eyes open, feeling around for the buzzing device and answering it without so much as looking at who was calling you. 
“Hello?” you said groggily, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. 
“H-Hey it’s Gregory.” 
The voice of the youngest Bridgerton boy awoke you more than you already were, prompting you to sit up in your bed. 
“Gregory? What’s going on?” you asked. 
He was silent for a moment before, in a quiet voice, he said, “I’m at the hospital, can you come pick me up?” 
You blinked a few times, a swirling feeling in the pit of your stomach after hearing his words. 
“I-Yeah, I’m on my way, just text me the address. Hang tight,” you nodded and hung up the phone. 
Quickly getting dressed into something a little more suitable, but still comfortable, you grabbed your keys, phone, and wallet and headed to your car, starting the ignition and pulling out of the underground parking and making your way to the hospital as quickly and as safely as possible. 
When you got into the ER, you went to the front desk to try and speak with a nurse. 
“Hi, I’m here to see Gregory Bridgerton,” you said. “Is he still here in the ER?” 
“I’m sorry ma’am, who are you?” the nurse asked. 
“I-Just a friend of the family,” you said. “He called me. You can go and check with him.” 
The nurse seemed skeptical, until a doctor came around and overheard the interaction, asking you what your name was. 
“Mr. Bridgerton mentioned you, let me take you to him.” 
“Dr. Jacobs, are you-” 
“It’s the Bridgertons, Olive. Do you really want to risk their donation to the hospital?” he asked and you frowned. 
“I’m sorry, but the Bridgertons would never do that,” you told him. “I understand if there are necessary precautions that need to be taken. Go ahead.” 
Dr. Jacobs looked between you and Olive before asking for a piece of ID from you, which you gave to him, and he took it with him before coming back. 
“He said he knows you.” 
You nodded your head and took the ID back, looking at Olive for confirmation, and when she gave you a thumbs up, you followed Dr. Jacobs to the room where they were keeping Gregory. 
When you saw him, you pressed your lips together and placed a hand on your hip and another on your forehead. 
“It’s bad isn’t it,” he said, and you let out some air in a huff and nodded. 
“What in the world happened?” you asked, coming to sit in the chair next to him. 
“Bike accident,” he sighed. “A few of my mates wanted to do some trail riding in the dark, and I didn’t see a huge root, the bike flipped over with me still on it.” 
“Oh Greg,” you scrunched your nose, looking down at his casted arm and bruised face. “What did the doctors say?” 
“Broke my arm,” he sighed. “Again. There’s some internal bruising, but I think my ribs are intact. At least they feel intact,” he rubbed his hand against his ribcage. 
“You’re on painkillers?” 
“Lots,” he nodded, and you chuckled. 
“Alright, can I get you out of here?” you asked. “Can you walk?” 
“Haven’t tried,” he shrugged. 
“Okay, maybe I’ll give you a chance to get dressed and go talk to Dr. Jacobs about what recovery is going to look like,” you said. “Or are your clothes completely trashed?” 
“Trashed,” he said. 
“Okay, then let me get something from the nurses,” you said and patted his leg, leaving him for a moment to go ask a nurse if it would be possible to get him some clothes so he could be discharged, before going to find Dr. Jacobs. 
You took a few notes about what Gregory should be careful with and when he should go get his arm x-rayed again to make sure it was healing properly, and got the official okay to get him discharged from the hospital. 
When you came back to his room, Gregory was in a pair of sweats and a plain t-shirt and you unzipped your sweater and threw it over his shoulders, knowing the night air could be chilly. 
You placed a hand on his back and led him out of the hospital, towards where you had parked your car. You opened the door for him on the passenger’s side, and closed it behind him before getting into the driver’s seat and starting the car. 
“I called Benedict,” Gregory said. “He didn’t pick up.” 
“Hmm,” you nodded, but elected not to say anything else. 
“Everyone else would have told Mum,” he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. 
“Even Eloise?” you asked. 
“Especially El. I spiked her coffee with laxatives last week,” he admitted, and you rolled your eyes and shook your head. 
“Now, why would you do that?” you turned to look at him. 
“I’m her little brother, I have to keep her on her toes,” he shrugged. “And she put itching powder all over my headset.” 
“There it is,” you nodded with a chuckle, before taking the exit to leave the city and head to the house. 
The rest of the drive to the house was mostly silent, but before you put in the code for the gate, you put your car in park and turned it off. 
Gregory looked over at you, a little confused. 
“You didn’t call your mum,” you said. 
Gregory nodded his head. 
“You know I can’t lie to her, Gregory, right?” 
He sighed, “You don’t have to lie, just don’t tell her.” 
“Mate, you have a cast on, it’s pretty bloody obvious,” you raised your brows while looking at him, and he groaned. 
“She told me not to go tonight,” he rested his uninjured elbow on the car door, leaning his head against his hand. “I lied. I told her we were just going to catch a movie.” 
You nodded your head, understanding what he was saying. 
“She’s going to kill me when she finds out.” 
“Gregory, Violet isn’t going to kill you,” you sighed. “Will she be upset? Probably, but, then again, you lied, you kind of deserve that.” 
He smacked his lips together and nodded. 
“I don’t think you give her enough credit,” you said. “I know she’s protective over you guys, but she has good reason to be. Everyone is watching what you do all the time, which means that mistakes and stupid decisions aren’t something you will have the privilege of dealing with in private. She’s trying to set you up with good habits.” 
He leaned his head back on the headrest and looked up at the roof of the car. 
“I don’t want to let her down,” he said quietly. “She held us all together when her life was falling apart, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be good enough for her.” 
“Gregory,” you whispered, reaching out to hold his hand. “Where is all this coming from?” 
“All of my siblings are doing something with their lives,” he said. “You’ve seen how proud Mum is of all of them, and I’m just…always getting hurt,” he looked down at his cast. “I haven’t even applied for school,” he said. “I didn’t apply.” 
“Why not?” you asked, as more of a curiosity than anything, trying to probe a little further while he was being open with you. 
“I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t know what I’m interested in,” he said. 
“Gregory, that's normal. You’re eighteen, you can’t expect to know what you want to do with the rest of your life right at this second,” you explained. “Taking time to figure out who you are and what you want is human.” 
He struggled to meet your gaze and focused instead on the gate in front of the car. 
“Have you talked to anyone about this before?” you asked and he shook his head. “You know…I think if you chatted with your mum about this, she might be able to help.” 
“I don’t want to add anything to her plate, you know how busy she is,” he said. 
“I know how busy she is, but I also know first and foremost she is your mother,” you said firmly. “There is nothing she wouldn’t want to work through with you, and I don’t think me or any of your siblings will be able to give you the kind of reassurance you’ll need. That has to come from her.” 
“You think I should be honest with her?” he asked. 
“No matter the circumstance,” you nodded. “She loves you so much, Gregory. She thinks about you and frets for you more than you probably realize.” 
He nodded his head, chewing the inside of his cheek, while he thought about what his next steps would be. 
“Would you come in with me to tell her about this?” he motioned to his cast.
“Of course,” you nodded and patted his leg. “You ready?” 
He took in a deep breath before saying yes while you turned the car back on, punching in the gate code and driving up to the front of the house. 
“You know,” Gregory began, “you could have asked me why I didn’t call any of my seven other siblings to come deal with me, or my mum, but you didn’t, you just…came.” 
“I’ve got your back, mate,” you tousled his hair a bit, which made him chuckle. “Don’t let Hyacinth fool you, my loyalties lie with the family, not just with her.” 
Gregory took in your point and smiled, patting his one hand on his leg. 
“Maybe I could call you sometime to help me figure things out when I know what I want to do?” he asked. 
“As long as it’s not at four in the morning, I think we’ll be fine,” you teased and Gregory laughed. 
Turning off the engine, you got out of the car with Gregory and helped him with the keys for the front door. 
“You sure you can’t help me hide?” Gregory made one last ditch attempt to cover up his injury, but you simply chuckled and shook your head, pushing the door open and getting Gregory to walk inside. 
When you walked inside, you saw Violet pacing the foyer, her phone pressed to her ear and her thin housecoat billowing behind her as she walked.
At the sound of the door opening, she spun around, eyes immediately landing on Gregory’s casted arm before saying into her phone, “Never mind…he just walked in.” 
She hung up her phone and placed it on the table that normally held their keys and crossed her arms over her chest, scanning her son up and down. 
“I called you,” she said, her voice soft, cracking with worry. “Over twenty times, Gregory, I thought you-I-”Violet ran a hand along her face. “Why didn’t you pick up?” 
Gregory looked down at his phone and noticed the battery was dead.
“I’m sorry, my phone died,” he said quietly. 
Her arms were crossed over her chest again while she chewed on her bottom lip, looking between you and her son. 
“You went with them, didn’t you?” she asked. 
Gregory looked at you, and you nodded your head, giving him the assurance to go on. He pressed his lips together and nodded his head. 
Violet rubbed the heel of her palm against the freckled skin of her chest. 
“Gregory, you lied to me,” she whispered, and Gregory squeezed his eyes shut, hearing the broken-hearted voice of his mother. 
“I’m so sorry, Mum,” he whispered back. “I-I shouldn't have lied. I shouldn’t have gone,” he shook his head. 
Violet walked a little closer towards Gregory, scanning his face, now noticing the bruising along his cheek and eye. 
“Is it just the arm?” she asked. “Or is there more?” 
“Some bruising,” he shrugged, prepared for whatever punishment his mother was about to dish out for him, but instead of speaking again, Violet lifted her hand to brush her fingers along his cheek before wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in for a hug. 
Gregory let out a shaky breath before wrapping his uninjured arm around his mother, his cheek pressed against her hair, overwhelmed by the relief he felt. When Violet pulled away, she pressed a kiss to his forehead and rubbed her hand up and down his arm. 
“Go get some sleep,” she said. “We’ll talk more in the morning.” 
Gregory nodded his head and walked past his mother, climbing up the stairs to make his way to his bedroom. 
When you could hear Gregory’s door close behind him, Violet looked over at you and ran a hand through her hair. 
“Can we talk?” she asked, and you nodded while she ushered you into the kitchen. 
It was close to five in the morning, the sky becoming lighter as daytime crept closer. The smell of strong tea filled your nostrils just as Violet offered you a cup, which you graciously accepted. 
“He called you,” she started with.
“After trying Benedict and getting no answer,” you nodded. 
“Is there anything else the doctor mentioned, something I need to know?” 
“I have the discharge papers in my car. I’ll grab them for you before I go,” you said and took a sip of the piping hot beverage in front of you. 
Violet chewed on her lip, staring at the vase that was filled with flowers, some still vibrant and others wilting away. 
“Did you…tell him to tell me?” she asked, and you nodded your head, noticing how her grip tightened on her mug. 
“Thank you,” she whispered, and lifted her cup to take a sip of her tea, still staring at the flowers. “I worry about him a lot.” 
“I know you do,” you said. “I don’t think he did though.” 
Violet nodded thoughtfully. 
“He mentioned some things to me and I tried to encourage him to talk to you about it,” you said. “And I know it’s something you can handle. Of course it is, you’ve raised six children before him.” 
“Okay, I’ll see if I can get him to talk to me when he wakes up.” 
You placed your mug down on the table and looked over at Violet, a gentle look of concern over your face. 
“How are you faring?” you asked. 
“Oh, you know,” she nodded. “Just spent a couple hours thinking I was going to get a call from the police telling me my son was-” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, shaking her head and pressing her lips together, tears forming in her eyes. “He never comes home past midnight.” 
You moved over to the other side of the kitchen island, wrapping an arm around Violet, feeling her relax into your side, her head against your shoulder, while she tried to get whatever images had been plaguing her out of her mind. 
“He’s okay, Violet,” you murmured, rubbing your hand along the silky fabric that was against her back. 
“I know, it’s just…” she sniffed, unable to find the words to express what she was feeling. 
You let yourself press your cheek against her hair, before turning your head slightly, your lips resting against her scalp. It wasn’t quite a kiss, no, it was more cautious than that, but you were desperate to offer her some sort of comfort. 
She let out a shaky sigh, one arm carefully snaking around your back before you both shifted yourselves into a proper embrace. 
Violet’s nose was pressed into the crook of your neck, her cheek flush against your collarbone. With every breath she took, you could feel the cooling inhale which paled in comparison to the long warm exhale. You began to bite the inside of your cheek so hard you could taste something metallic along your tongue, forcing you to let go of the chewy flesh. Violet’s arms curved so nicely around you, the movement from your initial position to the embrace allowing them to graze along the skin of your waist and hips, curling around to your back, where fingers rested along the waistband of your pants. Warm, wet tears dripped from her eyes and rolled down your chest and each one stopped above your heart. 
Carefully, you looked down at her as you moved one arm from where it was wrapped around her back, tracing the stitching of her robe until you reached the nape of her neck, fingers hesitantly tangling in her soft brown hair, pulling her closer to you, if that was even possible. 
You took in a deep breath, only to become dizzy by the smell of her perfume that still lingered on her skin after a day of wear. It was subtle, like some flowers, but the closer you got the more apparent it became, consuming your senses, sending you into a sweet, delicious haze of hope and possibilities. 
Eventually, you both had to pull apart, but it was difficult because you had become stuck to each other like glue. 
Violet was about to lift her sleeve to wipe away her tears, but without thinking too much about it, you beat her to it, hands gently holding each side of her face, fingers lightly scratching against her scalp, thumbs wiping away any trace of worry and anxiety. 
You thought if you looked into her eyes any longer, she might turn you to stone, frozen in that moment in time, which really didn’t seem that bad to you. 
After you had wiped away her tears, she held your wrists in her hands, pulling them away from her face before wrapping her arms around you once more. 
Just a little longer. You both needed just a little longer.
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TAGLIST —
@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya @philocalistwrites @mako-mermaids2021 @oh-mydarling @courtneyteal @amethyst-bitch @etherynn @lilisdarling @fictionalized-lesbian
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leviathanspain · 1 year ago
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omg fingers crossed you're gonna write for tom
white mustang
tom wambsgans x reader
synopsis: a girl gets what a girl wants
a/n: this was already in the drafts, so i’m posting it under this as a ‘thank you’ , also yes this is named after the lana song
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“uh, sir?” your knuckle graced the wood of the door in a simple knock. you were holding a stack of papers that greg had given you to deliver to tom. since your hiring, you had basically become greg’s assistant, becoming the third in their twisted duo.
tom barely even glanced before he had waved you in. you walked over to his desk, and let the papers flop on the table. you watched them spill over onto his paper, where his pen was furiously writing away.
heaviness hung in the air and tom scoffed, “hmm drop something?” there was always a slight condescending tone in his voice, and this was no different.
perhaps you had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. the attitude rolled right off you. you leaned back, but still heavy in his face, crossing your arms, “no, i don’t think so.”
tom wanted to laugh a bit more. but he set his pen down, opting to assess this as nothing but his assistant getting mouthy.
“you don’t think so? when i’m staring at this stack of bullshit paperwork in front of me.” his brow was creased, and his tone with nothing short of serious.
your top lip pulled slightly to the left, “is it any different from the other bullshit stacks of paperwork that are already here?” you pointed to the other stacks, and tom laughed.
“i should’ve made you the office maid instead..” tom muttered, not as upset as he was annoyed. he brought his hand to his mouth, perhaps to cover up the thousand curses he wanted to throw at you.
“oh yeah?” you stared down at him, hand resting on top of another bullshit stack.
“considering how desperate you were in your interview,” tom’s lip tugged to a slight smile, “you would’ve done anything. if we asked.”
a weak laugh fell from your mouth, just as you circled over to his side of the desk. you rested your ass on top of the wood, thighs just level to his waist.
he remained in his chair, although he turned it out towards you.
“and if you could ask me to do anything,” you cleared your throat, “what would you ask me to do, sir?” you bit your lip slightly, letting your tooth hang onto the flesh as your eyes bore into his. you tilted your head just as your voice hitched on the question.
god, he had you like clay in his hand. he could feel the tent in his pants from the moment you walked in. that’s how it always was, he was obsessed with you, your attitude, the little snide comments.
tom felt his mouth go dry, but he still spoke, “to sit on my fucking face.” he chuckled slightly, “i’d have you sit on my face and ride it until you scream my name.” he shrugged, “but that’s only if you’d do anything we ask, right?”
you shrugged, “i do as i please.” you let your leg hit his, bumping it just as you pulled it back, “im sorry.”
tom watched your leg move back into position. he watched as your hand went up your knee, to your waist, stopping just at the top of your skirt. he stared, entranced with the way you moved, like a slinky.
“come here.” he flicked two fingers, beckoning you forward. his voice was husky, almost seductive.
you hesitated slightly, there was no one here. you had to remind yourself. having been used to always having eyes on you. but it was just you and tom. but you gripped his shoulder tightly, letting yourself be seated in his lap.
you crossed your legs politely, feeling his hard cock just under you. you giggled slightly, not shocked at his excitement.
“what’s funny?” tom raised his eyebrows, and you felt a hand grip your ass tightly.
“nothing!” you smirked, “besides your hard cock poking me- nothing.” you pushed into him and tom gasped slightly, laughing awkwardly.
“oh don’t be surprised. men, right?” you wrapped a hand around his neck, “always so easy..” you spoke, “you’d fuck anything, wouldn’t you?”
tom nodded, closing his eyes slightly.
“look at me,” the hand on his neck grabbed his jaw, pulling it close to you, “and use your words.” there was an authoritative whisper in your voice, but he chose to ignore it until he gave in.
tom did as you said, opening his eyes to look into yours, “i would fuck anything.” you pushed into him a little more, just to feel him squirm. he groaned softly, and your nails dug into his jaw, “you want to? hmm-“ a hand reached down to his belt and tom laughed softly, “careful..”
just as he spoke, the door opened.
fuck.
“oh my god.” it was greg’s voice. his large frame stood in the doorway and you cringed immediately at the entire situation.
he had walked in on you sitting in tom’s lap, making him beg to fuck you.
you stood up, clearing your throat as you did so. you stared at your other boss, and raised an eyebrow, “need something?”
greg, still in disbelief, scoffed. “yeah i- i thought you walked out or something after taking so long but clearly-“ he cut himself off with a laugh, “you’re moving up!”
tom laughed slightly, panic evident in it. but you smiled calmly. you’ve seen shit go down at the company, and you and tom wouldn’t be anything to worry about.
“i better after this.” you winked at greg, hand on the door handle, you turned to look at tom, who was too busy thinking. thinking of what, who knew, but you hoped it was who’s office you’d take.
maybe taking risks did help.
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puhpandas · 8 months ago
Text
@ggyweek2024 Day 1: Scars
(2,434 words)
After developing a new normal, Tony finally asks Gregory about how he got the scar on his face.
One of the first blaring changes that Tony noticed about Gregory when seeing him again after so long was his scar.
Tony couldnt help but stare when he first saw it. It was thick and jagged, and discolored a darker shade than his skin. It was large, jarring on his face, and travelled from his jaw across his cheek to his nose.
And even after they had the big long talk about everything and discussed and debunked and explained, Gregory never told him how he got the scar.
It took Tony a while to feel normal enough around Greg to go to his house a lot. It's more common than not, now, for Tony to go to Greg's after school and get to know him. The real him.
But through it all, Tony's never gathered the courage to ask Greg about the long jagged line taking up a quarter of his face.
Its been weeks, now, since they reunited. Possibly months, and Tony hasnt asked Greg about it in that long.
Its never felt right to. Even when things were still centered around what happened enough to reveal that much, it had been too soon, and any time afterwards, Tony was just happy to be friends with Greg again. He never wanted to mess up any normalcy and his relationship for Greg to satisfy his own curiosity.
He already learned his lesson about that.
Today's one of the days he goes over to Greg's to hang out. The standard routine continues as normal; Tony bikes to Gregory's house, parks, goes inside and greets Vanessa and Freddy on his way to Greg's room, who both greet him back enthusiastically, and then he goes in.
When Tony enters Gregory's room, he immediately finds him hunched over at his desk. His back is facing Tony, and even from his point of view he can see Gregory's arm moving back and forth in a scribbling motion. He doesnt seem to hear him come in. He's so engrossed in whatever he's drawing he's almost nose to nose with the surface of the desk.
Instinctively, a smile quirks on Tony's face. He shuts the door quietly behind him, and goes over to Greg's chair.
Gregory only seems to notice him when he's in his peripherals. He jolts slightly, eyes widening in suprise, but then hes smiling and setting down his pencil.
"Jeez," Greg chuckles. "You scared me."
"Sorry." Tony replies. The window is open and the blinds are open by Gregory's desk, and it casts a few lines against Greg's face and his paper. Tony switches his gaze to Gregorys latest drawing, and smiles again.
It's some comic centered around Gregory and Freddy taking down a bad guy. The panels are dramatic and scary looking, and Tony notices that near the end of the page, in the right bottom corner, theres a panel where Gregory is completely alone.
He's interrupted by Gregory calling his name.
Tony looks back over, and the sunlight peeking through the blinds somehow manages to cast a perfect halo around the scar on Greg's face. It's like the world somehow knows that Tony's been stewing in curiosity about it lately.
Tony must have been looking at it, because when he tears his gaze away to look at Gregory himself, he shuts his mouth from where he was about to say something and darts his eyes to the side. His hand comes up to his cheek.
"Sorry." Tony says again. He looks at the floor.
One moment, then, "Its okay." Gregory drops his hand after a few seconds of silence. "Did you come over to finish our book? We only have a couple chapters left, I think. I saw that the second series is way longer."
Tony smiles again. "Yeah." He confirms. "Are you reading or am I?"
"You read last time." Gregory gets up from his chair, leaving his comic and colored pencils behind. "I'll do it this time."
Tony still feels bad about making Greg uncomfortable, but Gregory seems to have moved past it. He sighs. "Okay, sure. This is the last book, isnt it?"
"The last in series one." Gregory replies, moving to his bookshelf. Tony watches him go. "Funny how we only started reading because you wanted a reference to start writing first person, and now we're going to start series two."
Tony smiles, knowing why exactly he kept reading for so long. Of course he's inspired by the first person point of view, but theres another reason he likes reading the books so much. "Its a good series."
Gregory plucks the book off of his shelf and makes his way over to his bed. Tony follows him, and they sit side by side, leaning against Greg's pillow as he opens to the bookmarked page.
Tony's on Gregory's right side, meaning that Tony has perfect view of his face scar when he leans down to see the pages clearly. He sighs out his nose, trying his best to ignore it. Greg's obviously uncomfortable with it. He thinks. He doesnt need to tell me. I dont need to know.
While Gregory is finding their last page, Tony thinks about how hes never told Gregory how he got his own face scar. The thin pale line on his right cheek.
But then he remembers that he doesnt need to tell him, because Gregory already knows how Tony got the scar.
"Here." Gregory rips him out of his thoughts, pointing at the page. He clears his throat, and Tony tries to ignore the proximity, and how Gregory's face scar is in his peripherals.
"I looked around to make sure we were alone." Gregory starts reading. "Then I leaned in close and whispered: "My Achilles spot. If you hadn't taken that knife, I would have died.
She got a faraway look in her eyes. Her breath smelled of grapes, probably from the nectar. "I dont know, Percy. I just had this feeling you were in danger. Where...where is the spot?""
The word knife makes Tony think again, even when he tries to pay attention to the story. Tony's own face scar was made by a knife. His eyes dart back to Greg's cheek.
"I wasn't supposed to tell anyone." Greg's voice echoes in his room. "But this was Annabeth. If I couldnt trust her, I couldn't trust anyone.
"The small of my back.""
"Greg." Tony interrupts impulsively, not tearing his eyes away from the discolored line on Gregory's face. Gregory stops reading, twisting his neck to look at him. When Greg looks him in his eyes, Tony switches his gaze to look back. "Uh... can I ask you something?"
Gregory seems to deflate a slight bit, but Tony only notices because he's watching closely.
Greg sighs almost soundlessly, then: "My scar."
Tony jolts, his eyes wide. He glances to the side. "Oh, um--"
"I know that's what you're going to ask about." Gregory interrupts. Tony risks a glance back, the inklings of guilt in his stomach, but Gregory doesn't look angry, upset, or uncomfortable. Just kind of resigned, but in the least worst way. "Its okay."
Gregory shuts the book, only pausing to place the bookmark back in. "Is it okay?" Tony asks. He wouldn't want anyone prying for answers about his face scar. He hopes that Greg wont mind as much because its Tony.
"I see you looking at it all the time." Gregory tells him, shifting in his seat to angle his body so he's fully facing Tony. Tony forces himself to look him in the eye. "I know how you are. It's probably killing you, isnt it?"
Tony tries not to let his jolt show at those choice of words from Gregs mouth, and he nods. "Sorry." He apologizes. "I just--"
"You cant stand not solving a mystery." Gregory interrupts again. He fidgets in his seat. "I get it."
Tony doesnt respond again. He just stares, and watches how Gregory is looking away from him when it falls silent. He looks at how Gregory's face is tilted so the scar is in perfect view for Tony, and how his fingers fidget with the strap of his watch and how his knees seem to tremor ever so slightly.
He waits. In the silence, he can hear the TV in the living room droning on through the walls. He can hear the barely audible exhaust from cars from outside. He can hear his own heartbeat in his chest, and he can feel his own guilt for being excited to be told.
"Its..." Gregory's voice is jarring in the silence. He looks back at Tony, and there are lines under his amber eyes. "Its not a fun story. Might... might remind you of some things."
Gregs eyes had darted to the right side of Tony's face when he said that, and Tony's brows raise. He's suddenly hyper aware of his own face scar.
He looks at Greg's, sharp and large and jagged. It dips in his skin around his jaw, and it makes the skin around his left eye stretch differently. Its darker against his tanned skin, and Tony sighs out. "That's okay."
Tony doesn't notice how Gregory never worried about trusting Tony.
"Vanessa was like me." Gregory jumps right in. "She had a knife, and I just woke up with no memory, and she just..."
He trails off, making a slashing motion with his hand. "I barely got away with my life." He says, his voice slightly wet. "If I was just a little slower..."
His eyes get faraway, and Tony, in between his shock and taking that in, bravely reaches out a hand and sets it on Gregory's fidgeting one.
His hand is warm against Tony's icy fingers, and it's enough to bring him back to reality. He gasps a little, and Tony catches that same expression that he used to think made Gregory look so young a year ago.
Tony doesnt bring up his own scar, because he knows Gregory knows how it came to be. It was from a knife, too, and Tony barely got away with his life.
Greg's other hand has been raised to his face, where he messes with the scar on his cheek. Theres a few fleeting moments where Gregory and Tony look at nothing but eachothers eyes, and it feels like it lasts hours.
Tony sees how Gregory unsubtly looks away from Tony's eyes to his right cheek.
Gregory's fingers twitch under Tony's hand. Tony watches Gregory remove his other hand from his face, reach out, and barely brushing against his skin, poke the spot on Tony's cheek.
"We match." Greg says, soft as silk. He smiles, but it looks pained.
Tony cant find a response in him, he just keeps staring, and realizing for the first time how Gregory's right.
It feels otherworldly, Tony thinks, or fictional, how Tony and Greg somehow have matching scars on their cheeks that are parallel to eachother. It reminds him, boldly, of how Freddy and Bonnie have parallel matching earrings.
But they were designed that way. Tony and Gregory somehow got here by chance. Are they this way because of the worlds design? Is it fate that both their cheeks were marked by that thing?? That the fact that they have scars at all tells that they're still here? That Tony would look in the mirror and stare at the pale line on his face in-between it all to remind himself that it was all real, and his theories weren't far-fetched? That he wasnt going mad?
"I have another," Gregory rips him out of his thoughts, tapping on his hand, and Tony realizes his eyes were unfocusing. "on my stomach."
Tony feels a surge of panic when Greg lifts his shirt, but he looks back from where he averted his eyes to where Gregory is pointing.
Theres a gathering of skin on his stomach. It's long and horizontal, almost diagonal, and discolored like his face scar. It's a line, Tony realizes. A big one. Tony's mouth parts, and he looks at Greg's eyes.
"When I freed her." Gregory looks away. "She got me again."
Tony doesnt respond, he just looks at the bunch of skin on Gregory's stomach. It obviously used to be a stab wound. One of Tony's biggest fears is stab wounds.
He shakes his head, clearing his throat and trying not to stutter. "I have one." Tony says. He shrugs off his jacket, tossing the green corduroy at the end of the bed, and he rolls up the sleeve of his raglan tee.
"Y-- Rab got me." Tony says, pointing at his bicep, where just under his shoulder on the side, theres a thick, long slice. He feels it with his finger, and it dips in the skin, dark like both of Gregory's are. "He tried to stab me in the back, but I dodged."
Greg stares at it for a long time, and his eyes look infinitely more tired.
He eventually shifts, and uses his other hand (the one not beneath Tony's) to move his hair out of the way near his temple. He tucks it behind his ear, pointing at a small scar right at his hairline. Its almost lined up perfectly with the corner of his eye. "One of-- Rabs lenses shattered, once." He explains. "It almost blinded me."
Tony sighs through his nose, feeling his eyebrows furrow.
Theres so many. Gregory has so many scars littered around his body.
Tony squeezes his hand.
He shows Gregory more scars of his, which are few. He eventually gets to the old childhood ones with funny and embarrassing stories attached to them, and he stops giving Greg room to reveal more of his scars. Tony can see little light lines and dots scattered around his arms and hands, and another bigger one peeking from under his shirt sleeve, but Gregory never gets to tell the stories of those. Tony just tells him about how the scar under his chin is from tripping at the pool when he was eight, and that the one on his ankle is from a scooter rearing back at him from a failed trick when he was nine.
Greg doesnt try to unearth all of the scars hes collected again. He just laughs at Tony's stories until tears prick his eyes, and the book sits un-re-opened next to them as the sky darkens outside Gregory's window. The lines under Gregorys eyes recede, and Tony's shirt sleeve starts to fall back down his arm.
Through it all, Tony never moves his hand from on top of Greg's, and Gregory doesnt move his either.
ao3 link
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