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azsazz · 2 months

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Midnight Muse (Part 20)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 4,679

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Masterlist]

Notes: Some of this might seem familiar hehe

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You look so beautiful, lying in his bed like that, nothing but your bare skin on display.

The evidence of last night is still marked on your skin; bruises littering your body from your neck to your breasts, from your hip bones to the inside of your thighs. Azriel had gotten over eager at all of the different noises you’d made as he’d explored your skin into the early hours of the morning, and after another round of raucous sex, you’d fallen asleep in the warmth of his arms.

Even with your comforting presence beside him, sleep evaded Azriel.

Last night must have been some sort of dream. There was no possible way that he had taken out the one person who’s been a pestering annoyance all year, and somewhere along the way that irritation became infatuation.

And you’ve seen through his harsh exterior, the barrier he puts between himself and others. He hasn’t allowed anyone to touch him like this since after the accident. Hell, he still flinches sometimes when his friends come up behind him and slap him on the shoulder. It was that same motion his step-brothers had given him before they beat him into the ground and drug him in his fathers backyard.

But you are a whirlwind of fresh air, infatuated with the scarring of his hands, before you even knew the harrowing story, the trauma that came with them. You never shied away like other girls. No, you had kissed them and touched them and…and it means everything to Azriel.

He held you for a while, long after his fingers began itching for the familiar feel of his pencils in hand. Wide awake, he snuck out of his bed and over to his desk, flipping the sketchbook filled with images of you—the very same one that had your eyes tearing up—to a fresh page.

He had gotten lucky that you didn’t react poorly to what is essentially a shrine to you. Pages upon pages of drawings of you, in this one sketchbook he normally keeps hidden on his shelf. How had he been so stupid as to leave it out? Right, because he’d be so fucking nervous to pick you up for his exhibition that the only thing that could ease his racing mind and shaky hands was drawing you.

The apartment is silent, had been all night from what he can remember. He doesn’t care if his roommates hear anyway, they’ll all figure it out eventually and tell him that they told him so.

He can’t fucking wait.

Sleep wears on his body, trying to pull him down, but his mind is wide awake. Creative, is what he calls it, insomniac others called him. He won’t dare sleep a wink when you’re there to draw his attention. You sleep so prettily, the morning sun cascading across your body as it rises, casting shadows across your skin in the most interesting way, highlighting those marks he’s left on your skin…

For now, the marks are hickeys, but his head is already filled with tattoo ideas for your body.

He takes his pencil to his paper. He has minutes to get you down in his book, if that. He doesn’t know when you’ll shift, if the sun will wake you or if everything that happened will come flooding in like a nightmare. He wonders how you will react, if it will be poor or if you will pout, telling him to come back to bed. He shoves the thoughts from his mind and focuses on his sketchpad.

Azriel snags a kneaded eraser, blackened with use. There are shards of charcoal strewn about his desk, brushed to the sides for a cleaner workspace. The chalk clings to his skin instantly and he breathes out a sigh of contentment at its familiar texture. He rolls it between his fingers and looks back up to you, the sudden urge to press his sooty fingertips against your skin barreling through his thoughts.

His heart skips a beat at that, the idea of you covered in the essence of his art, of him, on you.

The drawings in his sketchpad are both rushed and not. Lazy, languid strokes when he has all of the time in the world to recount how you’d glared up at him. Quick, harsh lines of a fleeting look, your gaze brushing across his.

The smooth, cream paper is fresh on both sides, a blank canvas inviting him to soil with his charcoal. The blankness, like the void of night he often shies away from, instead of letting it cocoon him with sleep. Azriel’s eyes ache to fall shut but his mind won’t allow it, a thousand different images of you from the night he has yet to add to the rapidly filling book propped up on his knee.

Azriel takes a deep breath, lets himself bask in the picture of you again, sheet twisted around your body, barely covering your sex. He hasn’t been so fortunate that you kicked off the thin sheet while you slept. Maybe next time.

He’s quick to get your form down. Your face, a quick circle for your skull, a tinier one following for your cheek where it’s pressed into the pillow. A line marking the bed. A box for the window so he can draw the rays of sun washing in over you. Maybe he’ll even add a halo to your messy hair.

The curve of your body is drawn in such a fluid motion it surprises him for a moment, but after last night, he knows the dips of your silhouette better than he knows his beloved bike. The drawing spans across both pages. One wouldn’t be enough to capture the raw beauty of you this morning, though he might have five other sketches of you sleeping from when he’d found you in his bed that night.

Azriel draws the swell of your breasts, your hand, relaxed at your hip, sketching the general shapes of you down before you shift. Realize that he’s missing from next to you.

And his hands don’t shake.

With two quick drags of his chalk there are your eyelids. His hand moves on its own and he does nothing to stop it. He almost doesn't’ draw the lines of the sheet, instead there’s a fleeting moment in his exhausted brain where he thinks about drawing that sweet little cunt of yours but it’s gone as fast as it comes, even if his dick does twitch in response. Instead, he drapes the bending lines across your hips before filling it in with the flat of his stick. Azriel uses his eraser to make the highlights and smudges the lines with his finger until they’re buttery smooth.

He loves the way that the chalk sticks to his skin. The onyx dust coats his hands and covers the blemishes adoring his fingertips. It feels like a second skin, a plate of armor against unwanted stares, except for yours, of course.

Tracing the lines of your fingers, Azriel begins to add the finer details now that he has your base. His mind always tends to wander through the self hatred shadowing the corners of his mind when he’s tired. The loud music only helps on some nights, but in your presence, it seems as if you’ve scared them away like a beacon of light.

He studies the way the light highlights certain areas of your body and hides others, filling in the paper with the thick stick of charcoal. The eraser is in his other hand, ready to really pull out those highlights from the chunk of black he’s just colored in.

Occasionally, he blows the soot off of the page. It lifts, swirling around in the rays of the morning sun and he’s distracted by how pleasing it looks. Reminds him of the whorls of swirling black in twining between the tattoos on his shoulders.

He scrubs the powder into the grains of the paper. His hands are a mess, and the medium sticks to the eraser he’s kneading into a point so he can carve out your nipples tight from the chilly air. He looks back up to you and then back at the page, his tongue poking between his lips as he focuses on the important task at hand.

It’s a shame that you haven’t woken up yet. He’s done with his picture and he doesn't know what to do now, what to draw because you haven’t yet shifted in your sleep. Azriel thinks about climbing back into the bed behind you because every blink feels like there’s sand in his eyes.

He knows that he needs to sleep. Knows that there are dark circles around his eyes and his skin is getting that sickly look his mother used to scold him about when he was young and stayed up all night studying anatomy on the internet.

Instead, Azriel pulls the chair closer to the bed. He could move behind you and draw your backside, but he thinks better of it, wanting to sketch the more intimate parts of you like your face or where the crook of your arm barely covers the curve of your breast.

He focuses on one thing at a time. Your hand. He draws your breast and the hickey he’d left surrounding it last night. Chalks up that scar on your shoulder that he has yet to ask you about. So many things he doesn’t know yet, but your body is not one of them. He draws the curves of your ear and the piercings shoved into them. Sketches the column of your throat, also mottled with marks from his mouth.

He wonders if you’ll be upset with him when you look in the mirror and see those, knowing that you have class tomorrow.

Azriel smirks at the thought of that copper haired fuck getting a glimpse of those. He hadn’t sucked them into your neck so high because of Lucien, but the thought of him seeing them anyway makes Azriel’s chest puff a little. You hadn’t had sex with Lucein, no, your tight cunt is all for him. Only him.

He peers down at you again. Watch you for even longer, hand frozen over the page. He’s staring again but you’re not awake to catch him.

From somewhere behind him, the buzz of his phone goes off. Azriel places his sketchbook back on the desk and rubs his filthy hands on a tissue he pulls from the box on the shelf. Black streaks the thin material but it’s not enough to clean his skin. Uncaring, Azriel crumples the tissue and tosses it into his trash can.

He finds his pants haphazardly discarded on the floor. It’s too early for Cassian or Rhysand to be texting him, and all of his notifications for social media are set to off. It’s a Sunday, so he’s not entirely sure who it could be.

The screen of the phone lights up with the text and the floor falls from beneath Azriel’s feet.

It’s his father, demanding to meet.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Here you are boys,” Rita says with a kind smile. She sets a large stack of pancakes with extra butter in front of Cassian and a breakfast special before Rhysand. Azriel’s hands haven’t stopped shaking enough for him to be able to pick up a fork yet, nor the hot mug of black coffee in his hands. Rita offers him a consoling glance—she’s always had that mothers instinct—that Azriel ducks away from. “Nice to see you around here again.”

Azriel is thankful that Rita refrains from asking any questions. He hasn’t shown up to her diner with Rhysand and Cassian since after their freshman year when Cassian figured out he could pull almost anyone he wanted and Rhysand found other places to frequent, more sophisticated to the trust fund he’d inherited for his high grades his first year away.

It feels like he hasn’t seen them in ages even though they live together. Rhys has been too busy with Feyre and Cassian’s been chasing tail as usual, but the both of them had formed a group with you and your roommate, and since Azriel has been so stubborn as to not force himself into your presence, he hasn’t seen much of his best friends as of late.

Little do they know that he’s more than acquainted with you now.

Azriel had used their special code this morning after reading the text his father sent him. The one that would ensure both Rhysand and Cassian would drop anything at any second and meet him here, at Rita’s diner.

It still looks the same as it did two years ago, with its funky neon boomerang pattern adorning the tables, straight from the 80’s. The bright blue booths and barstools have been replaced since then, but some of them are still worn, pleather ripped open and showing a yellow foam inside.

The food is just as good as it’s always been, and he doesn’t understand why they’d stopped coming here, but he always found solace in the quiet diner and the company of the owner. It became a safe haven for Azriel, when he had a bad day and needed a milkshake to make him feel better and he couldn’t ride his motorcycle. He could barely grip the straw in the cup after the accident, his hands so burnt up he’d been almost embarrassed to leave his apartment at all.

A jukebox sits on the far side of the restaurant, and he remembers shoving loads of quarters into it and setting a queue so long that it had the other patrons moaning and groaning on Friday nights while he, Cassian, and Rhysand sat in this very booth and had the time of their lives.

These days, he feels like he doesn’t know a thing about what’s going on in their lives. He doesn’t know how they’re doing in their classes, what Cassian got on his sculpting project. He doesn’t even know if Rhysand still works at the art supply store. He’d steal Azriel a kneaded eraser every other week, but since he’s met Feyre, nothing.

It’s not that he needs the eraser, but Azriel expects his friends to check in on him, and he knows that these things go both ways, that he’s been an irritable prick the last few months, kept his own secrets from them, but they’re all best friends, damnit, and he wants someone to ask after him, too.

Cassian doesn’t seem to notice any of the tension keeping Azriel’s shoulders rigid, glancing behind him with a slight furrow in his brows, but Rhysand’s violet eyes are tinged with the only worry Azriel’s emergency message could cause, and he hasn’t touched his meal.

“What’s going on, Az?” Rhys asks.

“Is this about those noises we heard last night?” Cassian tacks on, stuffing a bite of pancakes into his mouth.

“What?” Azriel coughs. Chokes, really. He manages to take a sip of the hot coffee, but it does little to soothe the lump in his throat. He hadn’t known they’d been home at all.

“Cass,” Rhys scolds, elbowing his friend. “I told you not to bring that up.”

“A whole fucking year since Azzy’s been laid and you want me not to bring it up?” Cassian shoots back, “That’s impossible. I’m only a man, Rhys. I need details.”

Rhysand rolls his eyes, shooting Azriel an apologetic look. He spears his fork into the fluffy eggs on his plate, looking expectantly at his friend for an answer as to why they’re all here at the asscrack of dawn.

“I can, uh, explain that part later,” Azriel scratches his head awkwardly. “But that’s not why I called you here.”

“Is it because of everything that’s been going on recently?” Rhysand asks, and he seems almost ashamed as he sets his fork down again. “Look, Az. I know we haven’t been best friends as of late, especially with the whole (Y/N) thing, and I want to apologize for that. I hadn’t realized how my relationship with Feyre might be affecting you and—”

“And we fucking miss you dude,” Cassian interrupts. “Where are you always running off to? Is it to that girl’s place?”

Azriel shakes his head. So they’ve noticed what’s been going on with him, how he’s always having to find something to occupy himself with while they’re hanging out next door. The last time he’s properly hung out with either of his roommates was when he’d heard you through the wall as you touched yourself.

Fuck, just the thought of you has Azriel shifting in his seat, his cock stirring at the thought of you lied up in his bed, your bare skin on display. He had left you a note with his number and an excuse so lame he cringed as he wrote it, regretting it as soon as he fled the apartment.

He hopes that you text him, or that you’re still asleep by the time he is done with this. He could use some comfort after this.

“No,” Azriel sighs, playing with the handle of his mug. “She’s not the only thing I haven’t been completely honest with you about.” He waits for a reaction from his roommates, either Cassian to start guessing what he’s been up to or Rhysand’s touch of betrayal, but nothing comes. His roommates stare at him, waiting for an explanation. “I’ve been, ah, interviewing for apprenticeships.”

“What? That’s awesome Az,” Cassian grins widely, but it’s not awesome.

Azriel shrugs. “Nothing’s come of it yet, but maybe soon.” He doesn’t tell them about how many times he’s interviewed and failed to score the job. It’s too mortifying. “And I had an exhibition last night. At Opulence.”

Rhysands eyes nearly bug out of his head. His father is an investor in that gallery. If Azriel wanted a showing, he could’ve pulled some strings.

But Azriel didn’t want that. He wanted to earn something on his own, knowing that it isn’t his art that’s keeping him from chasing his dreams. He has a backup plan if tattooing doesn’t pick up, and this is the first step in that career path. Drawing is still something that he loves, and it will be nice to have some sort of income until he can hone his tattooing enough for someone to take a chance on him.

He wants to shrink under his friends’ wide-eyed stares. They’re looking at him like he’s just announced he’s having a child or something, and the silence is making him a little uncomfortable. He checks the time on his phone, cringing, and notices that there isn’t any message from you yet.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Cassian asks, tone low. He looks like a kicked puppy right now, with a wounded look on his face.

“I thought you guys might be too busy,” Azriel answers, just as soft. His throat tightens and he doesn’t like the feeling, doesn’t like the looks on their faces, the hurt in their eyes. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Fuck, Az,” Rhys says, pushing his plate away from him. “We’ve been shit friends lately, haven’t we?”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Rhys—”

“It is that big of a deal!” Azriel can tell that Rhysand wants to explode, but he’s always been too good at keeping his composure. It’s a trait he got from his father. “We’ve been parading around, leaving you to your own devices all semester and now we don’t even know what’s going on in your life anymore? Fuck, I feel like the shittiest person in the world right now.”

Rita swings around to check in on the three of them and senses the tension immediately. Azriel sends her an apologetic look for all of the commotion and Cassian’s avoiding everyone’s eyes altogether, craning his neck around the owner towards the counter. Rhysand’s heavy violet gaze doesn’t leave Azriel’s.

“Are you boys doing all right over here?” She asks, brushing a strand of graying brown hair behind her ear. She stands closer to Azriel’s side of the booth, a protective wall should he need her.

His chest warms.

“I’d like to put in an order for blueberry waffles, please,” Rhysand says, “To go.”

Azriel deflates a little in his seat when Rita walks away. So this is how it’s going to be, then.

Cassain takes the reins because Rhysand seems too worked up to continue. “When those waffles come, we’re going to the store and buying ice cream, and then we’re going home to talk about everything we missed,” he says, and Azriel finally looks up. They ordered the waffles for him. They remembered that? When he said his ultimate comfort food was blueberry waffles and ice cream when they’d all gotten a misdemeanor for spray painting one of the buildings on the outskirts of town. They’d only gotten a fine for it, and an escort back to town, but it had spooked the three of them enough that their reign of spray painting started and ended in one night. Azriel thought his father would kill him when he found out and they found themselves right in this very booth, with enough waffles and ice cream to feed a small army. It turns out, Rhysand had called his father and pulled some strings, and the incident was cleared from their records. “We’re sorry for being such pricks lately.”

“I’m sorry too,” Azriel admits, and even though he hasn’t called them here for this, he feels lighter. “For not telling you.”

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me who you were with last night,” Cassian shrugs, stuffing another bite of food into his mouth. “She sounded like she was having fun.”

Azriel’s spine straightens and his grip around his mug tightens. He knows the walls are paper fucking thin but he doens’t like the idea of his roommates hearing the noises you make when he fucks you into his bed.

“Later,” he answers again, and it comes out sharper than he’d intended. Rhysand’s brows furrow and Cassian’s grin widens. Instead of allowing them to ask any more prying questions, Azriel blurts, “My father texted me this morning.”

“Fuck,” Cassian spits, then shouts over his shoulder, “Rita, we’re going to need two more orders of waffles!”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Azriel sits across from his carbon copy, and he doesn’t like it one fucking bit.

He hasn’t seen his father since before the accident, when his new step-sons had lit his hands on fire in an attempt to fuck with his art career. He knows that his father doesn’t want him to be an artist. It’s business, the man across from him would rather see him in. Following his footsteps, however…small they might be.

Azriel’s hands are clenched tightly in his lap. Rhysand and Cassian sit at the bar only a few feet away. His father either hadn’t noticed his two friends or didn't care, calling for a black coffee as he slid into the booth, a crinkle of disgust to his nose.

Azriel had almost smiled at that.

Neither of them have spoken yet. His father is typing something on his phone, his thick gold ring catching the light shining in from the window. His gray suit is pressed perfectly and his sunglasses are pushed up into the dark hair styled perfectly on his head.

Azriel waits.

He doesn’t want to be anywhere near his father, thought he made that clear with his lack of responses to phone calls and texts. He thought that they were on the same page, actually, when his father hadn’t visited him in the hospital after the incident that happened by his step-sons in his house.

Azriel’s hands tremble with rage.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, only because he knows his father will wait him out, and he wants the fucker gone as soon as possible. He has things to get back to, like you and his artwork. Mostly you.

His father doesn’t bother with niceties. No greetings, no ‘nice to see you’s’ because it would all be a lie, anyway. They’ve merely put up with each other their entire lives, and that doesn’t stop today.

“I’ve found an opportunity nearby,” His father says, finally slipping his phone into the interior pocket of his suit jacket.

“And?” Azriel asks, boredly. He doesn’t fucking care, but the idea that his father might be in this town more often should he invest makes him want to squirm.

His father pins him with a scathing look. One that used to terrify Azriel when he was young. Now, it only makes him hate the man more.

“And,” his father taps that thick gold ring against the ceramic of his mug impatiently. The sound makes Azriel’s teeth grit. “I want to know about the area.” His gaze lingers on Azriel’s hands. He sucks his teeth, “If you’d consider it profitable.”

“Take a walk around,” Azriel waves lazily towards the windows. There aren’t many people milling about this early in the morning, and he hopes the lack of them drives his father away from this town. “I certainly don’t have the time to do it.”

“You don’t have the time to do it between drawing those stick figures and nonsense you ruin your body with?” His father quirks his brow and from the corner of his eyes he watches the way Rhysand and Cassian’s spines lengthen.

Oh, he knows that Azriel’s still not taking the classes he wants to force him into. Azriel doesn’t want a fucking thing to do with his father’s business, even if he’s owed it by name when he retires. He wouldn’t dare give it to those step-sons of his, they’re not his by blood. Azriel knows that the fucker won’t.

When Azriel doesn’t answer, his father continues. “I’m looking at the 3rd street apartments,” he says, and Azriel’s world stops. His breath catches in his throat and he’s lucky that he hadn’t eaten anything. That’s his apartment building, and by the smirk on his father’s face, he knows it too, even if Azriel’s been paying his own rent through odd summer jobs and tutoring. “It could use some updating, and when summer rolls around and there aren’t as many students on campus, it will be the perfect time to renovate the building. My assistant just told me about the elevator getting trapped with some students inside. Have you heard about that?”

Of course, he knows about that. He was one of them. But he doesn’t say anything.

Azriel’s stomach shrivels. If his father buys the building and is wanting to renovate during the summer, that means he, Rhysand, and Cassian will be out of a place to live. Not only that, but you and Feyre will be thrown out too.

He doesn’t like the thought of that.

But his father doesn’t care. He’s already taking a final sip of his coffee and grimacing at the taste. He looks around the diner as if he might just buy this place next. If he does, Azriel doesn’t know what he’ll do.

“If the deal goes through you might be seeing a lot of your old man around this summer,” his father taunts, standing. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Azriel glares. He throws every ounce of hatred at the man who fathered him because there’s nothing that he can do. If his father is talking about buying the building that means that the plans are already in the works. He’s truly and utterly fucked.

His father throws a twenty down on the table. “This should cover that. You can keep the change too, Azriel. Spend the rest on some paint, or something.”

Gods, does he want to fucking bare his teeth at the fucker.

His stare doesn’t leave his father’s back until he’s settled into his sleek, black sports car. His breathing is heavy, fingers clenched so tightly he knows they’ll ache when he uncurls them. Rhysand and Cassian slide back into the booth, deep frowns on their faces.

And his phone is still empty of notifications.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut

@cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @homeslices @quinzzelx @carlandonorri-s @juniper-july19 @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acowar #acomaf #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #art school au #artist!azriel #azriel series

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jgracie · 19 days

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ONCE UPON A DREAM — PERCY + CHILD OF HYPNOS

masterlist | rules

❝ Hi! Can you do hcs of Percy Jackson dating a child of Hypnos!reader please? I love all your other headcanons ❞ — anon

in which percy dates a child of hypnos

pairing percy jackson x hypnos!reader

warnings none

on the radio . . . once upon a dream (lana del rey)

Cabin inspections weren’t Percy’s favourite things in the world, but there were worse jobs to do at camp

Still, he couldn’t help but feel like a bit of a hypocrite whenever he gave a cabin a low cleanliness grade, considering he wasn’t the tidiest person. If it weren’t for Tyson, he’d have dish duty for dirtiest cabin every week

What Percy did like about cabin inspections was getting to know the other cabin counsellors. Now that minor gods had their own cabins, the pool of people for Chiron to choose from almost doubled, making inspections a lot more interesting

Last time Percy was on cabin inspection duty, he was paired with Lou Ellen Blackstone from the Hecate cabin, who taught him the basics of tarot while they inspected. He forgot half of the stuff she said, but it was still really cool

Today, Percy looked at the duty sheet posted on the notice board and found his name next to someone called Y/N from cabin 15

There’s nothing Percy hated more than when people referred to cabins by their numbers instead of Godly parent. He barely managed to learn the first 12, now he had another 8 to memorise

Oh well, it’s not like it mattered. Percy didn’t have to go collect you from cabin 15, since everyone knew people on cabin inspection duty are supposed to meet at the big house then check the cabins in numerical order

Or so he thought. Percy waited ages and watched as people came and went, yet there was no sight of you. Had you forgotten you were supposed to be on inspection duty? Were you a new camper and got lost? Percy scratched that last thought, since you wouldn’t be cabin counsellor if you were new

After about 10 minutes, Percy got tired of waiting. The next time someone passed by, he asked them which God cabin 15 was for: Hypnos

Clipboard in hand, he made his way over to your cabin

“Hello? Is there anyone in here?” Percy asked, rapping his knuckles on the front door. This was his third time knocking, and he was getting quite tired of it all. Being met with more silence, the boy decided to invite himself in

Walking into your cabin, Percy nearly tripped over one of your half-siblings, who was sleeping on the doormat. Looking around, Percy realised almost everyone in this cabin was at least daydreaming. He felt like he’d entered a new world where time stopped and responsibilities were non-existent

“So…” he began, unsure if he should wake one of them up or hope they wake up by themselves, “which one of you’s Y/N?”

There was no response. Just as Percy was about to tap one of your siblings on the shoulder, another pointed in your direction whilst asleep, which freaked Percy out, “uh… thanks,” he said before turning in the direction of their pointed finger

What he saw next had him debating between bursting out laughing or facepalming. Somehow, you managed to fall asleep in the middle of tying your shoelaces, and so you stood with one foot in the air, the laces slipping from your fingers

“Hey, uh, do you need some help with that?” He asked, gently shaking you awake. From the outside, you seemed to be in deep sleep, but all it took to wake you up was one small shake

Blinking the sleep away from your eyes, you were met with a pair of aquamarine ones, “what time is it?” You mumbled, tying your shoelaces as if nothing had happened, clearly unfazed by the position you woke up in

“9AM,” as soon as Percy uttered those words, you suddenly seemed much more alert

Scrambling for your own clipboard and pen, you exclaimed, “what?! Oh Gods, I’m so late. I was supposed to meet this guy at the big house an hour ago!” Then, to Percy, “do you know how many alarms I set? I was so close, too! Fell asleep right as I was about to leave,” you said, eyebrows furrowed in disappointment

An endearing smile tugged at the corners of Percy’s lips. He wasn’t annoyed anymore. He couldn’t be, not at your cute pouty expression

“It’s okay, I don’t like cabin inspections that much anyway,” he said, causing a wave of relief to wash over you

While you inspected the cleanliness of cabins together, you got to know each other and Percy learnt more about your cabin. You heard the stuff the kids from other cabins called you - lazy being the most commonly used adjective - and were quick to dismantle all the stereotypes surrounding you and your siblings whenever you got the chance. It wasn’t all of them, of course, but it was enough of them to rub you the wrong way

It’s not that you cared what they were saying about you, but you couldn’t stand the way they’d speak about your father and his domain. There was a very good reason why mortal doctors preached about sleep so often, after all

Also, you and your siblings didn’t sleep just for the sake of it - you often trained in your dreams, seeing as you were closer to your full potential the deeper your slumber was, so you weren’t lazy at all

As all of these thoughts spilled out of your lips while walking around camp with Percy, you were confused. Sure, these things bothered you, but you were usually in good control of your emotions - always serene, always calm. Even when you did complain, you didn’t do it like this

You stopped for a second and took a good look at Percy, then it hit you

“You are the most tense person I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Excuse me?” Percy replied, caught off-guard and a little offended. He’d been so forgiving with you, and this is how you thanked him?

Noticing his discomfort, you recollected yourself, “no offence, Percy, but you haven’t been relaxed a day in your life. Your tenseness is rubbing off on me, that’s why I’ve been so heated. Would you wanna book a meditation session with me? I think it’d really help.”

Percy blinked, his brows furrowed in confusion. Before, he was offended, but now he didn’t know how to feel. You’d basically just called him an emitter of bad emotions. At the same time, though, something was telling him he should trust you. He felt the relaxed aura of your cabin even before walking in

And meditation with you sounded quite nice. He didn’t think he wanted to rely on the slim chance that Chiron would pair the two of you up a second time just to see you again

“Okay.”

Turns out, the Hypnos cabin had a whole meditation business set up. Very few people knew about it, since very few people cared to see past your sleepiness, but your cabin was a safe haven for those who did

You had a slot open the next day right after breakfast, so you quickly put Percy in, promising him you’d actually be awake when he shows up

He was a little apprehensive and considered not showing up at all, but he’d committed and so he was at your cabin door as soon as breakfast was over

Soon enough, Percy would learn that his showing up to your meditation session that day was the best decision he’d ever made

You were so sweet as you guided him through his emotions and helped him practise breathing techniques to relax, as well as giving him tips on how to get a better night’s rest

The two of you eventually started spending time outside of his meditation sessions, too. Percy felt really bad when he heard you speaking about the treatment you’d get from other campers on the day you first met, so he introduced you to all his friends and soon enough, you became a part of the friend group

Secretly, you still preferred spending time with Percy alone. He was so funny and nice, unlike anyone else you’d ever met - both in the mortal world and at camp

You would often meet at this giant oak tree Percy had found you dozing off next to in the early days of your friendship. It was one of your favourite nap spots, but you were more than happy to share it with him

This was one of those instances. Percy had a comic book in hand, some series Leo insisted he should read, but he wasn’t super into it. Meanwhile, you sat next to him, occasionally commenting on the silly drawings in it or telling him little bits of your day

The moment was so peaceful, it was only natural for your eyelids to begin getting heavier. As you dozed off, Percy finally got to a part in the book that could get him to justify why Leo enjoyed these so much, not noticing you were asleep until your head landed on his shoulder

“Oh, goodnight, Y/N,” Percy said, smiling fondly at your serene expression. You always looked cute - Percy knew this better than anyone, considering the massive crush on you he’d been harbouring, but you looked extra adorable in your sleep, your eyelashes tickling your cheeks as light snores left your mouth

He sat very still, not wanting to move a muscle in case that’d cause you to shift positions. He liked where you were sleeping right now. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend you were a couple

Percy began playing around with your hair as he said, “this is nice. I really wish you liked me. I mean, I know you like me, but I want you to like like me, y’know?” He sighed, taking this opportunity as he knew you wouldn’t be able to hear him

Just as he was about to continue reading, he heard a voice - your voice - pipe up, “I like you too, Percy. Really like you.”

And so, you began dating <3

Honestly such a cute relationship. You’re the only one able to calm Percy down whenever he’s upset. The whole Aphrodite cabin could be using their charmspeak on him and he wouldn’t fully relax until you place a gentle hand on his shoulder

You guys also have a lot of sleepovers. Mostly at his cabin, since yours is too full for a proper sleepover

During said sleepovers, you guys always try to visit each other in your dreams. You’re aware that children of Hypnos could enter other people’s dreams and desperately wanted to figure it out, and who better to test it on than Percy?

For one of your attempts he makes those aluminium foil hat things that cartoon characters would use to dream together or whatever it was, and you laugh at first, taking it as a silly joke, until you actually try with the hats on (because Percy insisted) and it ends up being your closest attempt

Now, you wear those aluminium foil hats religiously

Speaking of dreams, yours are more vivid than the average demigod’s, but you had no one to talk to about them until Percy came along. He loves hearing about all your silly slumber adventures <3 especially when he’s in them

Whenever you mention a dream he happened to be in it’s literally like the “oh and there was crazy drama that happened in bloxburg–” “HUH?! I NEED TO HEAR ABOUT THIS!!!!!” audio

“Percy, oh my Gods, I have to tell you about this dream I just had!” You said, not bothering to knock as you made your way inside his cabin. Percy, who was currently trying to fix the fountain in the middle of the room (idk where it is sorry), greeted you with a, “hey sweetie,” clearly very invested in his task

You sat on his bed and proceeded to give him a rundown of your dream: it started off at camp, but you were in a cabin you didn’t recognise. You decided to explore for a little bit and came across this seashell, which you picked up.

Instantly, it transported you to what you assumed was Poseidon’s underwater kingdom, since the God himself came over to greet you, Amphitrite and Triton trailing behind. He showed you around his castle, then left you at the door of your room, where he said was a special surprise for you

“Okay, so I go inside and you’re there–” immediately, Percy turned, losing his focus on the fountain and drenching you in water as a result

Grabbing you by the shoulders, he said, “You need to tell me about this! Did we get married?!”

“I thought you were busy with that fountain. You didn’t seem to care about my dream before,” you said, teasing him

Pouting, Percy replied, “no, baby, I’m sorry. I was listening, honestly! It’s just that the fountain has been making the most annoying noise ever and how are we supposed to continue our dream visiting endeavours with it distracting us?”

You continue your meditation, but more informally. He doesn’t have to book slots to see you anymore, you’d gladly guide him through whatever he needs at any time

The two of you reminisce on your first meeting a lot, too. Percy likes to claim it was his divine intuition that made him choose to look for you that day instead of inspecting cabins alone, while you just play along and try not to laugh at the way he over-exaggerates all your interactions pre-dating

To Percy, though, he isn’t over-exaggerating. Every interaction with you is a big deal. Whenever Percy wakes up in the morning and finds you next to him, clinging onto his arm with a leg draped over his body, he can’t help but fall in love all over again <3

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x gn reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson headcannons #percy jackson x hypnos reader #percy jackson x child of hypnos #hypnos pjo #children of hypnos #cynwrites

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probably-writing-x · 8 months

Text

The Stars That Shine

Summary: could you do something w conrad based off of mary’s song oh my my my by taylor swift 🥺

Author’s Note: Im so sorry I struggled so much writing this but I hope you love it and it’s what you were hoping for <3

It was like there was just something between you and Conrad that everyone else could see even when you couldn’t. You’d grown up in the house next to his in Cousins and so, every summer without fail, you spent every waking moment with him. It was like summer started so nothing else mattered. He was two years older than you and for the majority of your life he’d made that abundantly clear - he treated you like a little girl in comparison to him. He saw you in the same way he saw Jere, younger than him and so someone he had to be responsible for.

When you were 8, he threw you into the pool and then fought you when you tried to get back at him for it. You’d slipped on the concrete and cut your knee, and Susannah had told him he was too big to be fighting you. He’d patched you up with a plaster over the cut and bought you an ice cream from the van when it came past.

When you were 10, he punched a boy that jumped the queue in front of you over at the boardwalk. You’d been queuing to use the karts, and a boy had treated you like you were invisible. Conrad grabbed your arm and pulled you behind him, turning the guy around and clocking him in the jaw. He bruised his knuckles and you bought him fries from the stall to make up for it. You remembered it every time you ended up back at that boardwalk.

When you were 12, he got dared to kiss you one night when the group of you were all camping out at the beach. He refused at first and both of you forgot about it. But, later that night, he’d stopped you on the sand and told you that he never backed down from a dare. You ran away before he had the chance. Neither of you mentioned it after that day.

When you were 14, you realised for the first time that you liked him. He was getting ready for a date and you watched him fix his hair in the mirror, the pain settling on your chest that it wasn’t you he’d be with. He’d told you to wish him luck and you couldn’t find a word to respond with. A few hours later, Conrad had returned and told you dating wasn’t for him, he’d shook hands with you that he’d never go on a first date again. You’d laughed and taken the bet, hoping to God for just a moment that the next one would be with you.

When you turned 16, it was like Conrad saw you completely differently. You turned up in Cousins that summer and he saw you as a whole new person. He’d looked at you on the driveway like he was looking at a stranger, until his hand stretched out and he ruffled your hair on your head. You blushed under his touch and prayed he didn’t notice.

But there was just something so different about that summer. You felt Conrad’s eyes on you whenever he had the chance, the way he listened in to what you said just a little more intensely, the way he defended you when the boys started being dicks. The little things that just didn’t feel the same as they normally did.

It was that same summer that Conrad first took you out in his truck. His father had bought it for him for Christmas and got Jere one too - now that both of them could drive. Conrad had always complained that he’d have to wait for Jeremiah but it didn’t seem to matter now that he had his car. It started with just little trips to the store, spending a little longer with each other browsing through the aisles before he took the long way home. And then one night, when you couldn’t sleep, it felt like everything changed.

———

You made your way slowly downstairs, breezing past your parents’ room where they both slept soundly. With no real reason why, you just couldn’t sleep tonight. And there was only so long you could lay in bed waiting for sleep to take you.

You slip on a hoodie over your bralette and shorts and grab a pair of flip flops, heading out of the back door and into the yard. It was so much more peaceful at night. You’d sleep out here if you could.

It was rare you spent much time at home in this place, however. All of your best memories were made in the house next door - Susannah was the hostess and your parents always accepted that. You walk down the length of the garden alongside the hedged fence joins the two yards, your eyes flicking into their side.

That’s when you see him. Illuminated by the lights in the water, seemingly giving him an eerie glow, his legs drifting back and forth under the surface from where he sat at the edge of the pool.

“Con?” You hiss into the silent air and he instantly bolts his head up to look at where the noise has come from.

He smiles when he sees you, standing up from the poolside and wiping his hands on his shorts, “Are you stalking me (Y/l/n)?”

“Don’t flatter yourself Fisher,” You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He smirks and makes his way over to you until you’re both stood in front of each other, separated by the short hedge between you.

“Why are you awake?”

Conrad shrugs, “I never sleep early.”

You nod, “I can’t sleep.”

You feel the way his eyes watch you, the way they seem to melt into your skin. The way you seem to heat up just a little under his gaze.

“Do you want to go somewhere?”

“Now? Con it’s like 1am,” You frown, glancing back up to him.

He shrugs, “Do you have anything better to do?”

And so, he disappears back into his house and you take the alleyway at the side of yours, waiting for him out the front against the passenger door of his car.

Only moments later, he steps outside, swinging his keys around one finger as he makes his way over to you. You both clamber in and he drives off without another word.

You look out of the passenger window at the passing cars and don’t notice the way he watches you. The way his eyes are on you as if they can’t be torn away. Conrad wasn’t exactly sure when things had changed - or if they’d ever changed at all. He just knew that he saw you now and saw someone he couldn’t be without. Like someone had made him see you in a completely different light. Had he always felt like this and only now realised?

“Have you seen the-“ You turn your head back around and notice his eyes solely on you, feeling a blush burn at your cheeks, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just-“ He stops himself.

“Focus on the road Fisher,” You roll your eyes, drawing your knees up to your chest on the chair.

“That’s my sweatshirt,” He points out, turning another corner as the two of you drive down another country lane.

Eventually, he parks the car up on the hills overlooking the town, both of you still sat in the front seats staring out over the dark view.

“So why couldn’t you sleep?” Conrad asks you, leaning his head back against the headrest.

You shrug, “I don’t know. Just stuff on my mind I guess.”

He nods, “Go on.”

“Do you-“ You stop yourself, shifting in your seat so that you’re sat sideways, facing him directly, “Do you feel like… I don’t know, like this summer has been different than before?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows the lump in his throat, “In what way?”

“Come on Con,” You scoff, “I feel like I stranger showing up here again, I know you’re all looking at me like I’m a new person.”

He jumps the gun quickly to correct you, “It’s not like that, I know you’re still you.”

You roll your eyes, “Then why are you being so different with me?”

“I just-“ He stops himself, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face, as if he wants to frame your features in the perfect light, “It just feels like this summer I actually woke up. Saw what was right in front of me.”

“And what’s that?” You stop yourself from smiling, feeling so nervous with the way he cupped your cheek.

His thumb brushes along your jaw, until it is at the base of your chin, “You.”

Slowly, cautiously, like he’s giving you both the time to overthink, he draws you into him and you pull to him like a magnet. His breath fans over your lips before you close the space between you, his lips soft and uncertain against yours. You hadn’t kissed anyone before, you didn’t have a clue on what to do. But his hand keeps you pulled into him and his fingers are in your hair and his lips move against yours like they were meant to be there. He holds you like he’s been waiting to for a short forever.

Conrad’s hands move lower, pressing against your back to pull you into him, both of you angled awkwardly over the console of the car. He fumbles in his seat to draw you close to him despite the block between you and both of you laugh against each other.

“Terrible place for a first kiss,” He mumbles against you, his forehead pressing against yours.

You smile and pull away from him, “I think we’re just impatient.”

“Oh I think we’ve both waited long enough to do that,” He scoffs, “C’mere.”

One hand drops to draw his chair as far away from the wheel as it will go before they’re both back onto you, gripping and grasping at your hoodie to pull you over to him. You giggle as you clamber over onto his lap.

He grips your waist as you settle down onto his thighs, your noses bumping together in the small space.

“Hi,” You grin, holding both of his shoulders as if convincing yourself he was real.

His hands slip beneath the waistband of your hoodie, for no other reason than to convince himself that you were real too, that he could feel you there.

“Hi.”

———

You and Conrad had stayed together for the following year without any hiccups. He drove to your home, you drove to Boston, you met in the middle in Cousins. You spent Thanksgiving with his family, and he came to yours after Christmas. You called each other nearly every night and the long distance never seemed to feel like too far. All up until when the two of you were back in Cousins. Your parents hadn’t come this summer but you had, and you stayed at Susannah’s place. It was the most time you and Conrad had ever spent together, waking up together, going to sleep together, it was all you’d been wanting since he’d first kissed you in that car.

But all pieces of heaven come with tiny bits of hell. And it didn’t take too long for the perfect bubble to burst.

You’d been at the beach at a bonfire party, and you’d been accepting any drink that someone offered you. It was starting to hit you a little bit, the sort of buzz that warmed your veins and heightened your confidence.

“Where’s Con?” You frown at Jeremiah, squinting around the mass of bodies to try and spot your boyfriend.

“I don’t know,” Jere shrugs, “I think I saw him with Steven by the fire.”

You nod and trail your steps in that direction, stumbling a little on the uneven sand.

“Hey!” An unfamiliar pair of hands grab your waist, “Come and dance with me.”

You push them away and turn your head back to see a boy you don’t recognise, rolling your eyes.

“Oh come on, don’t be boring,” He encourages, “Dance with me.”

His hands snake around your waist again and you push them off.

“Get off me!” You exclaim, turning around to face him.

“Oh is that how you’re playing it?” The boy smirks, “What have you got a boyfriend or something?”

“I-“

“Hey, do you want to back the fuck off?” Conrad’s voice bellows from beside you, coming up towards the boy and shoving him square in the chest.

He stumbles backwards on the sand but catches himself before he falls.

“Who the fuck are you?” The boy scoffs, looking up to meet Conrad’s eyes before looking back at you, at the way Conrad shields you with his body, “You’re her boyfriend?”

“How about you leave her alone?” Conrad waves the boy off, watching as he walks off from the both of you before he turns around to face you.

“God he wouldn’t get off me he-“

“We’re going home.”

Conrad’s voice is cold, emotionless - a way you’d never heard him speak towards you.

“Wh-“

“We’re leaving,” He snaps once again, “I’m driving.”

“Con wh-“

He holds your arm in his grasp and tries to lead you away from the party, getting you as far as being just slightly away from the big crowd.

“Conrad get off me, you’re hurting me!” You exclaim, pulling your wrist from his grip, “What’s wrong with you?”

“(Y/n) you’re drunk and we’re going home,” He says harshly, looking at you with eyes that didn’t feel like his own, “Now get in the car.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” You wrap your arms over your chest, “Why are you being like this?”

“Because you’ve got guys fucking trying it on with you, thinking they’ve got a chance with you, and I’m stood right there (Y/n)!”

“Nothing happened!” You half-laugh, “He grabbed me and I told him to stop. What the fuck is wrong with that?”

“You think they don’t think they’ve got a chance with you?” Conrad raises his eyebrows, “Are you fucking blind?”

“No I’m not blind Conrad but I’m not going to fucking cheat on you with the first guy that shows me attention. Who the hell do you think I am?”

His shoulders drop a little like he’s realised the effect, but Conrad being Conrad will only let the mask slip for so long before he’s back to the coldhearted demeanour he seemed to have adopted for the night.

“Okay, we’re taking both of you home,” Steven walks over to interject, “I’ve not been drinking, I’m driving.”

You look at Conrad for a moment longer like you’re hoping he’s going to change his mind and reach out for you and apologise but he doesn’t make any move to do so.

He walks off ahead with Steven and you walk behind with Belly and Jeremiah.

Everyone is deathly silent on the drive home until you reach the house and they mumble a quick ‘good night’ before going into separate bedrooms. Conrad still hasn’t looked you in the eyes and, as you sober up more and more, you’re convincing yourself he never will.

“Con can we please-“

You pause as you watch him rummaging through the closet to pull out a pillow and blanket.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping downstairs,” He returns bitterly, turning around towards the door.

“You can’t be serious,” You scoff, “That’s it? You’re not even going to talk to me about it?”

“I’ve said what I wanted to say,” Conrad shrugs, “We’re not going to agree so now what?”

“We fight it out Conrad. We talk about it like fucking adults,” You shake your head, “We don’t just give up and act like each other’s worst enemy.”

He doesn’t respond.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m unbelievable? I’m not the one with a guys arms around my fucking waist!”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do?” You yell, unbothered about every other pair of listening ears in the house.

Conrad doesn’t reply once more, stepping past you to walk into the corridor.

“You know what? Go fuck yourself Conrad,” You state coldly and he glances back only momentarily to watch as you slam the bedroom door, feeling it shake the room around you before you fall to the floor in tears.

The only other sound comes from his feet creaking the stairs on their way down.

—

The following morning, you’re up before anyone else in the house. You could barely sleep in the night, feeling oddly cramped in the spacious bed, feeling cold in the too-hot room.

Eventually, you give up on trying to sleep any more and instead make your way downstairs.

The couch is empty, apart from a small pile with the pillow and blanket stacked on top of each other. You frown a little at the sight, desperate for the calm of seeing Conrad asleep and peaceful. Your eyes draw outside to the garden where you can just about make out the shape of a body across one of the sun loungers, tucked away in the shade at the side of the pool.

He must be freezing.

You grab the blanket from the couch and tuck it under your arm, stepping outside as quietly as you can to reach Conrad.

His arms are wrapped over his chest and his heads tilted to the side, stretching out his prominent jawline. His breaths are calm and even and you’re conscious as ever to not wake him as you stretch out the blanket to lay over him.

You’re just about to turn away when you see his eyes start to flutter open just a little.

“(Y/n)?” Conrad’s voice croaks as you turn back towards the house.

You grimace a little and look down at the floor, “I- I thought you might be cold.”

Certain more than ever that this wasn’t the time to start up another argument, you start to make your way back inside with hurried steps.

“(Y/n) wait!” Conrad calls after you, “Will you stay?”

You pause in your steps and turn around to face him, “I-“

But it’s easier to not say a word, as if you don’t want to ruin the moment. You walk over to him slowly and he shifts over on the lounger so that there’s one thin half of it for you to lay on. He stretches out an arm and you lay down, resting your head on his chest whilst his other arm drapes the blanket over you. Both of you are silent at first, as if wanting to breathe in every ounce of contact you’d been missing.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Conrad says, trailing one hand up and down your back, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

You nod, “I’m sorry too. I should’ve just listened to you and I know you we-“

“Baby,” He speaks so softly you’re sure your heart swells at the feeling of him coming back to you.

You lean up slightly, just enough to rest on your elbow and turn your head to face him.

“I was in the wrong,” He assures you, “I’d been drinking and I saw you with that guy and I just flipped and I shouldn’t have.”

You nod, resting a hand on his chest, “It was kind of hot when you shoved him though.”

Conrad chuckles, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you between his legs, letting you lay over his torso, “You think?”

You shrug, “Just yell at the guy more and not me next time.”

He smiles softly, “Noted.”

———

Arguments came rarely and calmly between the two of you after that day. When you did disagree, it was softer and sadder - less fuelled and less aggressive. Conrad never raised his voice at you, and you never raised your voice at him. You told him when you were upset and he told you when he was irritated. It worked.

You’d been together for five years before things changed again. You were a year out from graduating college and Conrad was practically waiting for the day when you would. He’d already graduated so he came to visit you on the weekends when he could, he worked a job in a research lab in Boston and he’d call you when he finished to tell you about what he’d done that day. The plan for after you graduated was to get the money to buy your parents’ Cousins house from them. The two of you, in Cousins, in the place you’d fell in love. It would be a dream.

You were back in Cousins for the summer after your third year of college and you were, of course, staying with his family and the Conklins. Everything had been completely normal until this one day where it felt like the whole house’s mood had shifted.

“Morning babe,” You yawn as you walk downstairs, into the kitchen where Conrad and Jere are speaking in hushed tones.

They stop abruptly when you walk in.

“Hey!” Jeremiah smiles a little too widely, “I’m gonna… I’m gonna head out.”

You frown as he hurries past you and turn back to Conrad.

“What was that about?”

He shrugs and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Jere’s Jere.”

You rest your head against his chest and breathe in the scent of cologne that clings to his clothes.

“Do you fancy waffles?” He suggests, his hands moving up to your shoulders to massage the skin over the material of your baggy t-shirt.

You pull away from him and narrow your eyes, “Waffles?”

“Don’t look at me like that, Im being romantic,” He rolls his eyes at you, walking away to get the ingredients from the cupboard.

“Oh I’m not complaining,” You grin, pushing yourself to sit on the countertop, “Did I forget an anniversary or something?”

“Can’t a guy do something nice for his girlfriend without an ulterior motive?” He questions you, walking over to open the cupboard beside your legs, pulling out the waffle iron.

You shrug, “We’ll see.”

As he stands back up, he leans in quickly to kiss you, “I’ve got some errands to run later but I’ll be back in time for dinner, Belly suggested we all go out.”

“Our for dinner? We never go out for dinner,” You frown, “Why would we-“

“Stop being so suspicious,” Conrad scoffs, “We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“You’re weird today,” You joke and he rolls his eyes at you once again.

—

Later that day, Conrad’s still out and you get a text from him telling you he’ll meet you at dinner rather than coming home first. You’ve been lounging around the house since he left, soaking in the sun in the garden before you came in to shower.

Belly knocks on your bedroom door as you’re laying across the bed watching The Office.

“Hey!” She grins, “Do you know what you’re wearing to dinner?”

You frown as she drops down onto your mattress, “No I’ll probably just put a jumper on or something.”

“I think-“ She looks around your room, “I think we should dress up.”

“Dress up? You’ll never get the boys to agree to that,” You laugh, “Where are we even going?”

She shrugs, “You’ll find out.”

You lean up onto your elbows and narrow your eyes at her, “Why’s everyone being so suspicious today? What aren’t you telling me?”

She laughs and her mouth moves like she can’t find the words, “I’m not saying anything.”

“Belly!” You exclaim as she hurries off from your bed.

“Just… wear something nice,” She sticks her head around the frame of your door, “Maybe that white dress that Conrad loves.”

You glance over to the closet and glaze over your appearance in the mirror. Maybe you should make an effort, it was rare you were ever going anywhere fancy enough to do anything like that. But they all seemed set on making this night a good one - who were you to question that?

Within the hour, you’ve done some light makeup, brushed through your hair and curled the bits around your face, and pulled on the white dress that Conrad loved so much.

When you step out to walk down the stairs, Belly, Steven, Taylor and Jere are all stood looking up at you.

“What the fuck is going on?” You laugh, “I feel like I’m going to prom.”

“Wh-“ Steven coughs, glancing at the others, “We’re just, um, you know, we don’t want to be late.”

You grab your purse quickly and hurry down the stairs, “Calm down, Im ready now.”

They follow you outside and you all walk over to Jere’s car where you go to open the back door.

“Um,” Belly stops you, “You can sit in the front.”

You look at her with a puzzled expression before climbing into the front with Jeremiah, watching as the other three pile into the back.

“Seriously guys what the fuck is going on?” You question as Jere pulls off from the driveway and starts down the road.

“What are you talking about?” Taylor shrugs, “We’re just hungry.”

“Everyone’s like treading on eggshells with me today, it’s weird,” You comment, “Con seemed like weirdly nervous before he left earlier too, I’ve never seen him run out of the door so quickly and I-“

You pause as the sights around you seem to change, Jeremiah taking a turn down a country lane.

“Jere this isn’t the way to the restaurant we need to go…”

You stop yourself once more as his face breaks into a grin that it’s impossible to hide.

“Seriously what aren’t you telling me?” You turn around to glance at the three of them in the back, all of their heads close together looking out of the windscreen.

Belly nods her head in that direction and you turn back to the front, your lips parting and every single sensation in your body seeming to ignite and disappear all in one moment.

There, in the exact spot where he’d first kissed you, is Conrad.

There’s a scattering of rose petals laid out across the grass and candles lining the edge of the cliff that dips down towards the town.

“Oh my god,” You exhale, glancing at the others in the car with tears already in your eyes.

“Go on, I think he’s waiting for you,” Jeremiah nods, squeezing your arm.

The other three look at you with widened eyes and bright smiles on their faces as you open the passenger door and step out.

“I was worried Jere would take you the wrong way,” Conrad calls over to you as you walk over towards him.

“Conrad this is-“ You stop yourself, glancing around at the sight that you’re sure is something out of a dream, “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You look beautiful,” Conrad reaches out his hands for you to hold, “I- God, I’d planned this whole thing and now it’s like I don’t know where to start.”

You step just a foot in front of him and squeeze his hands, looking up at him with watering eyes.

“(Y/n) I love you,” Conrad smiles back at you, “And there are a thousand words I could say now to tell you that, but nothing will be more important than telling you that I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. And so…”

“Oh my god,” You release again, watching as he lowers down onto his knee, reaching back into his pocket to pull out a small velvet box.

“(Y/n) (Y/l/n) will you marry me?”

“Oh my god,” You repeat once again as if they’re the only words going through your brain, your eyes spilling with tears.

Conrad looks up at you with overwhelming emotion in his eyes, “Well?”

“Yes!” You laugh, grasping either side of his face in your hands as he stands up onto his feet, “Of course! Yes!”

He looks down to push the silver ring onto your finger before wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting you up into his grasp before he lowers you down to the ground. His eyes shift into that same adoration they’d held for you when you first came here that night, and he leans in to kiss you with the same excitement as that first time too.

At the sight, a chorus of cheers extend from the car and you both glance over to see all four of them staring out the window with wide grins over their faces.

You laugh through the tears in your eyes and Conrad tightens his arm around your waist, pulling you as close to him as humanly possible.

In that moment, in that perfect moment, you think of your six year old self, when you’d been a blushing mess meeting Conrad for the first time. Your twelve year old self so terrified at the thought of kissing him. The sixteen year old self that first kissed him in that car. And every year since of loving him.

You see yourselves getting married, your families laughing and telling you they knew it would be this way all along. The two of you growing old together, watching your kids grow up too. And, eventually, being sat in the same spot on this same cliff overlooking this same town, with the boy who’d held your heart for your entire life.

The boy who’d always be your Connie.

#tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #conrad x reader #conrad x you #conrad x y/n #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x y/n #tsitp imagine #tsitp one shot #tsitp drabble #tsitp blurb #tsitp request #tsitp conrad #tsitp x reader #tsitp x you #tsitp x y/n

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jaimistoryteller · 1 year

Text

Why Help’s Need 3.0

Hey Folks

Happy New Year and Winter Holidays to all of whichever you may celebrate.

I considered continuing the trend of just updating 2.0 but decided it's a new year, so have a new post. I'll put things from this year on this post, to make it easier, and leave the link to last years post, for record reasoning.

Thank you all

Jaimi

12/16/2023

Hello all,

I’ve spent pretty much 20 to 21 hours of each of the last three days sleeping due to pain. I only woke for brief periods between for food, bathroom, and taking meds.

I didn’t get to the bare minimum of $237 I needed to, so the check for the plumber bounced and I need to pay the returned check fee. Amusingly, that is how much I had raised, so the total hasn’t changed, and I just applied it to the account.

I really need to get him paid, so he’d be willing to work with me in the future if something happens again.

$0/445

Any and all help would be greatly appreciated. That includes sharing, every little bit helps. Happy Winter Holidays,

Jaimi

[will do a more detailed description when not barely awake]

Patreon

Redbubble

Share this post; my venmo, paypal, or cash app with a note about how it can help.

Paypal: cosmosbusinessventures@gmail .com or Paypal Me

Ko-Fi

venmo @JaimiST

Cash app $jaimist

GoFundMe: Help Jaimi Catch Up the Bills & Fix the Roof

Current Situation

12/12/2023 1 pm

Hiya Folks

So initially I did my update at three in the morning, while in a lot of pain after finishing a really long day. To recap:

Three trips to the hospital, not counting trip to see the eye doc for the pre-surgery recheck

One cat passed away and had to be taken to the crematorium

Winston has a sprained leg I’d like to get checked but haven’t been able to

Spent yesterday trying to fix the water, after the on/off broke on me, after I had already cut the line, so I got drenched and so did a lot of stuff.

Now then, I had gotten a quote for $400 last night, then today, I was able to get it fixed for $208, as long as I get it paid today, we’re good, as they came and fixed it. I’m barely awake, so will need to work on this further after another nap.

Thank you all,

Jaimi

Past Amounts

1/23/2023 - $278/2153

2/1/2023 - $817/2513

2/18/2023 - $/1734

2/26/2023 - $0/25533/7/2023 - $100/2855

3/7/2023 - $867/2855

6/8/2023 - $1833

8/5/2023 - $104/1060

8/10/2023 - $90/930

10/16/2023 - $0/437

12/12/2023 - $0/637

12/12/2023 - $25/445

12/16/2023 - $0/445

Proofs

[will add after i nap more]

#signal boost #boost #bump #help please #even a little bit helps #thank you #please reblog #Jaimi's GFM #tired jaimi finally manages to finish this #will look at it after napping to see if need to fix anything #but for now i am gonna post this #since it took almost two days to get it posted #every dollar pledged there adds up and helps #any and all help is wonderful and appreciated

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fanfictionalraven · 1 month

Text

Piece by Piece Pt. 8

Title: Piece By Piece Pt. 8

Summary: It’s been three months since Dean came back and things are going pretty well. Right?

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Original Characters

Word Count: 3,404

Warnings: N/A

Author’s Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2017.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 7 here.

Three months. That’s how long Dean had been back in your life. And when he was there it was great. He was always so careful to divide his time up between the two of you, taking you both out individually then spending time together as a family. M.K. loved her daddy-daughter dates more than anything and seeing them together made your heart melt every time. Once she was in bed, Dean would spend the rest of the night making you feel like you were the only girl in the world. It was almost perfect.

But he wasn’t always there. You knew it was going to be difficult, him coming and going. What you hadn’t counted on was how worried you were every time he left. You found yourself praying to whoever or whatever was listening every night for him and for Sam and even for Bobby, whom you’d never even met. You and M.K. would wait by the phone at night for him to call and say he was safe. On the few nights he was too busy to call, you’d both turn into bed for a sleepless night.

You’re standing in the kitchen now, staring into your mug of coffee. Thankfully, M.K. wasn’t awake yet. You were hoping she’d sleep a few more hours. She’d been so excited for Dean to come in last night. You had been too. But after she’d gone to bed, he’d been forced to leave in a rush. Some apocalyptic emergency. You couldn’t be mad. At least that’s what you were trying to tell yourself.

A knock on the front door draws your attention. Sighing, you set the mug down on the counter before going into the front hall. You can see the top of your best friend’s head through the window of the door and you manage a small smile.

“You know most people would consider it rude for someone to knock on their door at 6 AM on a Saturday,” you tell her once you’ve got the door open. Lily smiles back at you, apologetically.

“I was out on my morning run when I saw your kitchen light on and the distinct lack of a certain black car in the driveway. Thought you might want some company,” she says. You step aside, inviting her in. You move into the kitchen together and she makes herself at home, fixing her own coffee as you take a seat at the counter. She smiles as she stirs the sugar into her coffee. “Roses and chocolates? Guess it started as a good night.” You look at the bouquet of flowers you’d gotten into a vase last night and the heart shaped box of chocolates lying next to it.

“It did. He even brought some for M.K.,” you tell her. “And he gave me this too.” You hold up the necklace around your neck, looking at her. She smiles a little and nods before walking over.

“So you told him?” She asks. You avert your eyes to your coffee cup again quickly. “You didn’t tell him?”

“He got an emergency call from work before I could,” you confess, swirling your coffee slowly. You watch it spiral around the cup as the preceding night washes back over you.

************************************************************************

You and M.K. had settled into the couch, knowing neither of you were going to be able to sleep. It was almost 10 and Dean hadn’t called yet. Since it was a Friday night, you hadn’t been in any hurry to get your daughter off to bed., so you’d popped a bag of popcorn and were currently in the middle of Madagascar 2. M.K. had actually managed to pass out just a few minutes earlier so you reach for the remote carefully to turn off the movie.

The doorbell rings before you can hit the button. You freeze and frown quickly. It was way too late for any visitors. M.K. sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes.

“Was that the doorbell?” She asks, sleepily. You shush her and nod, rising to your feet. Quietly, you peek through the curtains.

Your pulse picks up instantly when you spot the familiar black car sitting in the driveway behind yours. But something wasn’t right. Dean had a key. He had no reason to ring the doorbell. Your mind starts to race as you rush to the door. Sam was here to tell you that Dean had been killed in a hunt. It was the only logical explanation.

You throw the door open, trying to fight back the tears and stare at what’s waiting on the other side. All you can really see are a couple of jean-clad bowlegs and two arms full of flowers, candy boxes, and a large teddy bear. You blink then break into a wide smile.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!!” Dean’s voice calls from behind the gifts. You start to laugh, relief washing over you, as M.K. comes into the hall.

“Daddy!!” She practically squeals. You can hear Dean laugh as he steps through the front door. You reach to help him, taking the flowers, and can finally see his smiling face.

“Sorry I’m late. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find flowers at the last minute on Valentine’s Day,” he says. You shake your head then lean in and kiss him quickly, grateful he’s alive. He winks at you then walks into the kitchen, setting everything down on the table. Turning to face M.K., he holds his arms open and she jumps up into a tight hug. “Miss me?”

“So much!!” She says, grinning from ear to ear. He kisses her cheek then turns to the table again. She looks at all the stuff then up at him and bites her lip. “Is any of that for me?” She asks. Dean laughs and sets her down. He picks up the bear, the smaller box of chocolates, and bouquet of six daises.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Baby girl,” he says, kneeling down in front of her. She squeals in delight and you shake your head as you make your way over to the sink. You pull out two vases from the space beneath it and start to prepare the water for hers.

“Thank you so much!!” She tells him, hugging him again. He laughs and plants a kiss on top of her head before standing up.

“Bring me the flowers and tell him about what happened at school today,” you say. Dean raises an eyebrow at you and you smirk as she runs the daises over to you.

“Craig asked me to be his Valentine,” M.K. says. You glance up at Dean, watching his jaw clench, and fight a laugh as you arrange the flowers in the vase for her.

“What did you tell him?” Dean asks. M.K. smiles over at him widely.

“That I already had a Valentine,” she says. Dean frowns slightly and she giggles. “You, Daddy!!” He breaks into a wide grin and you can’t help but laugh.

“That’s my girl,” he says, winking down at her. You smile and hand her the vase.

“Why don’t you and Daddy take everything up to your room and he can go ahead and tuck you in for the night?” You suggest. She frowns and shakes her head quickly.

“He just got here!! I don’t want to go sleep!! I’m not even tired!!” She says. Dean clears his throat and she looks over at him.

“Listen to your mom. Besides I’ll still be here in the morning. Promise,” he says. She thinks for a moment then nods, starting for the stairs with her flowers. Dean picks up the bear and chocolates again before looking at you. “I’ll be back for you soon.”

“Thanks for the warning,” you tell him, smirking. He laughs and runs up the stairs after M.K. You smile and shake your head, making your way over to the table. You pick up the roses and chocolates that are left and move them to the counter. Carefully, you snip the ends off each of the roses then arrange them in the vase.

You were incredibly grateful that Dean had managed to make it this weekend. He’d missed last weekend, swearing he’d be here in time for your first Valentine’s Day. But it wasn’t just the holiday you had been looking forward to. You’d had something to tell him for a couple weeks now and hadn’t had the chance. You couldn’t help but be nervous.

You’re standing at the sink, filling the vase with water, when something cold slips around your neck. You reach up and gingerly run your fingers over the small object. You bring it up enough to see the diamond shaped heart and gasp. Looking back, you find Dean smiling at you softly as he clicks the clasp of the necklace closed.

“This is too much, Dean,” you say, shaking your head. He leans in, kissing just below your ear.

“It’s actually not enough,” he murmurs, moving your hair aside. You lay your head back against his shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed as he continues to ghost kisses down your neck.

“You didn’t have to get us anything. Just showing up was a gift in itself,” you tell him. His breath washes over you as he chuckles.

“Gotta make sure my girls are taken care of,” he says, reaching over to turn the water off. You look up to find that the vase was overflowing. Dean pours some of the water out then looks down at you. “Where do you want them?”

“Just on the counter is fine for now,” you tell him. He nods and sets the vase down next to the chocolates. You push yourself up onto the counter behind you and bite your lip. “I have a surprise for you too.” He turns slowly and raises an eyebrow as he smirks. “Not that kind of surprise,” you say, rolling your eyes. He laughs and walks back across the kitchen to you. His hands come to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“It can wait,” he says, his lips finding your neck again. You sigh as his mouth works over your pulse point. One of his hands comes to the front of your jeans, easily popping the button undone. You shake your head, trying to regain your thoughts, and push on his shoulders gently.

“No, Dean. It can’t,” you say. He looks at you and frowns quickly.

“Is something wrong? Is M.K. still being bullied? Have you met someone else?” He asks, panic flashing in his eyes. You smile and takes his face in your hands, kissing him quickly.

“Nothing’s wrong. Claire hasn’t bothered M.K. anymore. And there is never going to be someone else, Dean,” you tell him. He lets out a breath and nods slightly.

“What is it then?” He asks. Your voice catches in your throat, your nerves getting the best of you. What if he panics? Just a few simple words with such big meaning that could change everything you had the moment you said them. You look up at into his eyes and just like that your nerves fade away. Dean’s looking down at you with that same care and concern he did the first night he’d picked you up on the side of the road. You take a deep breath.

“I –,”

“Dean,” a strange man’s voice says from the other side of the kitchen. Your eyes widen and you feel Dean tense up instantly. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth.

“I told you to never come here, Cas. I actually told you that if any of you came here, I’d kill you,” he says, an anger in his voice you’d never heard before. You look over his shoulder slowly to find a man in a trenchcoat standing by your dining room table. Castiel, the angel. Dean had told you about him before. He was the one who had pulled Dean from Hell.

“Hello, Y/N,” he says. Dean spins on his heels and shields you from his view quickly. You frown and place a hand on his back gently, trying to calm him down. You weren’t sure your house could handle a fight between Dean and an angel. His muscles relax slightly under your touch and when he speaks again his voice is calmer.

“What is it, Cas?” He asks. The angel glances at you then looks back at Dean.

“An emergency,” he says plainly. Dean rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. Cas sighs. “Dean.” His eyes cut to you once more and Dean frowns before nodding his head. He turns back to face you.

“I gotta go, Sweetheart,” he says. You stare at him and shake your head slightly.

“No, but –,” you start but Dean cuts you off with a quick kiss.

“I know. It’s Valentine’s Day and I promised M.K. I’d still be here in the morning but I’ll come back as soon as I can. We’ll celebrate then and I’ll make it up to her,” he says, backing towards the kitchen door. You stare at him in disbelief as he leaves the kitchen, Castiel following him. The front door opens then shuts.

“I’m pregnant,” you announce quietly to no one at all.

************************************************************************

Lily frowns as she listens to you recount the story to her. You edit it, of course, leaving out the parts about the angel and apocalypse. You’re absentmindedly playing with the necklace around your neck by the time you finish. She sighs and sets her cup of coffee to the side.

“So his boss called and he just up and left? What does he do again?” She asks. You frown and shake your head, looking at the roses next to you.

“It’s complicated,” you tell her. That was the only answer you ever gave her and it wasn’t exactly a lie. She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “I can’t explain it, Lily. But it’s important stuff.”

“And you’re sure he isn’t married?” She asks. It’s your turn to roll your eyes now.

“No, Lily. He isn’t married. He just works a lot,” you tell her. She nods then opens your heart-shaped box of chocolates. Most of them were already gone and the rest have been pinched to reveal their center.

“You already eat all these?” She asks, looking up at you quickly.

“I didn’t get any sleep,” you confess. “Help yourself.” She nods and picks one up, popping it in her mouth quickly.

“So he still doesn’t know?” She asks, covering her mouth as she chews. You shake your head then frown when you hear footsteps upstairs.

“Dammit,” you mumble, glancing towards the stairs. M.K. comes running down and bounds into the kitchen. Lily smiles at her widely.

“Good morning, Rugrat!!” She says. M.K. smiles back at her then looks around. Her smile falls slowly as she looks at you.

“Did Daddy go to the store?” She asks, hopeful. You sigh and shake your head.

“He had to leave,” you tell her. Her bottom lip quivers for a moment.

“But he promised,” she says, her voice thick with tears. You hold your arms open and she runs over. Pulling her up into your lap, you wrap your arms around her tight.

“I know he did. But remember, he has very important work to do. People to save,” you tell her. She nods as she cries into your chest. You rock her for a moment then kiss the top of her head. “Wanna try and call him?” She nods again and you pick up your phone, sending a quick prayer up that he’ll actually answer. You quickly find his name in your contacts and put the phone to your ear. It rings once…twice…three times…

“Hey,” Dean’s voice comes over the line. He sounds tired and you bite your lip.

“This a bad time?” You ask, glancing down at M.K. She’s practically bouncing as she waits.

“Course not,” he tells you quickly. You smile at her.

“Well I have a certain someone who is rather upset that you aren’t here this morning,” you tell him. He sighs and you bite your lip.

“Put her on,” he says. You hand her the phone and watch as she wipes at her eyes with the back of her hands.

“Daddy? – You promised,” she says into the phone. “I know. – I know. – I know.” She slides out of your lap and leaves the kitchen with your phone still in her hand. You watch her go then look back at Lily as she eats another of the chocolates.

“You gonna tell him now?” She asks. You shake your head quickly.

“I’m not telling him over the phone,” you tell her. She sighs and looks into the box of candy.

“You are going to tell him, right?” She asks. You roll your eyes and sit up, picking up one of the caramels you had left.

“No, I just thought I’d wait another 11 years since it worked so well the first time,” you say. “Of course I’m going to tell him. But you don’t just tell someone over the phone that you’re pregnant with his second child.”

“I told Nick I was pregnant with Manda over the phone,” she says, shrugging. You smile and shake your head.

“Because Nick was overseas at the time and wasn’t coming home for six more months. Dean should be back in the next day or so and I’ll tell him then,” you say. She nods slightly as she picks up one of the chocolates and examines it closely.

“And you’re sure he won’t disappear?” She asks. You reach across the counter quickly, stealing the candy from her hand.

“He won’t,” you say, confidently. She laughs and nods.

“Good. I’d hate to have to kill Mr. Important-Work-To-Do,” she says. You smile and shake your head. M.K. comes back in, any trace of sadness evaporated completely, and hands the phone back to you. Seeing it’s still connected, you place it to your ear, standing from your stool.

“All better?” You ask as you leave the kitchen to go to your room.

“I’m forgiven. By her at least,” he says. You smile softly as you walk into the bedroom.

“I’m not mad,” you tell him, falling onto the bed.

“Maybe not. But I’m still sorry,” he says. You sigh and close your eyes.

“It’s fine, Dean. I understand. The world needs saving,” you tell him. You hear him sigh this time then he’s quiet for a moment.

“What was it you wanted to tell me?” He asks. Your hand comes to your stomach. You were only about a month and a half along so you weren’t showing and you wouldn’t be for a little while.

“It can wait till you’re back,” you say.

“It couldn’t wait a couple of hours last night but it can wait until I’m back home?” He asks. Your eyes shoot open.

“Home?” You ask. The line is silent for a few seconds before he answers.

“Yea, home. Ya know, that place you and our daughter are,” he says, confused by your question. He didn’t realize it but it was the first time he’d ever referred to you and M.K. and the house as home. In that instant, any doubts you’d had about Dean and the baby are gone. You were his home. “Y/N? You okay?”

“I’m great,” you tell him, trying to hide the emotion in your voice. “I’m just tired. I think I’m gonna see if Lily can take M.K. for a few hours so I can get some sleep.”

“I know the feeling. I was on the road all night,” he says. You nod and roll onto your side, closing your eyes again.

“Well, be careful,” you say.

“Always am. Get some sleep, Sweetheart. I’ll see you in a few days, hopefully,” he says.

“I can’t wait,” you tell him. There’s a long pause, words left unspoken. While they’re never actually said, you know you feel them. You know he feels them. Actions speak louder than words and Dean always shows you just how much you mean to him. You were each other’s homes.

“Bye,” he says, his voice soft before he hangs up. You lay the phone on the nightstand beside your bed and sigh, snuggling into the pillow. You would tell Dean as soon as he came back home to you and he’d be overjoyed. The four of you would be an even happier family.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 9 here.

#fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #supernatural #spn #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #dean x reader #dad!dean #sam winchester

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agent-cupcake · 3 months

Text

Flashbang

Chapter 4 - BAD LUCK!

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: OPLA Buggy x f!Reader

Synopsis: No good deed goes unpunished, right?

Word Count: 7.2k

Notes: I have a spotify playlist that all of the chapter titles come from + what I listen to while I write this if you are curious- Flashbang

“You're not like me, I'm not like you. I'm not who these things happen to And that's exactly what you say before it catches up to you Before you play with knives and find yourself in two”

xxx

“Come in,” Crina called within seconds of your nervous knocking at her door. You opened it and stepped in.

“Good morning, Crina,” you said, forcing a smile past your exhaustion. “I was wondering-”

“-if I had anything for the captain’s hangover,” Crina finished for you with a knowing smile.

“He had a lot to drink last night.”

“Of course,” Crina said, turning around to look through her bottles. “What about you?”

“I’m alright, thank you.” In truth, a sharp sort of headache had poked itself deep into the left side of your head, a reminder of your late night. Running on only a few hours of sleep was uncomfortable, but it would get easier throughout the day. You just had to keep going.

“I saw some of your show last night,” she said in a would-be casual way.

You winced. Last night, Captain Buggy had been laughing, but it wasn’t as funny as it was humiliating. Maybe that’s why it was funny.

“You don’t have to let him embarrass you like that,” Crina told you, turning around with a bottle in hand.

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said awkwardly, not meeting her eye.

“If you can’t set boundaries now, you might not get the chance later.”

“It’s fine,” you told her. “I didn’t mind, really.”

Crina gave you a hard look, but she let it pass, handing you the bottle. “Give him two of these and make sure he drinks plenty of water with his breakfast.”

“I know,” you said, putting it in your pocket. “Thank you, Crina. I’ll bring this back later.”

“Keep them, I’m sure you’ll need them again.”

“Right,” you said, nodding. “Thank you.”

Your next stop was to the galley where you approached the intimidating cook—whose name, you had learned, was Gorr—to ensure that Captain Buggy’s got a proper breakfast. Eggs, coffee, fresh fruit, and bread. It was strange to think the tray was piled with goods stolen from Barley Village, from the people you had known all of your life. But that thought led nowhere good, so you dropped it.

There was a chance you were overpreparing, that Captain Buggy’s hangover wouldn’t be as severe as you feared, but you wanted to be braced for anything. He was awfully drunk last night. Drunk enough, you hoped, that he wouldn’t remember much of what he said.

Balancing the tray against your hip, you knocked on his door, although you weren’t surprised to get no answer. You had to wake him up every morning. So you unlocked the door, using your back to shut it behind you, and set the heavy tray on the table before gingerly approaching the divide between the anteroom and bedroom.

Buggy laid on his stomach in a sprawl across his bed, his cheek smushed into the pillow and his limbs stretched to all four corners. To your great relief, you didn’t see or smell any vomit. The only noticeable changes were that he’d removed his pants at some point—though, thankfully, not his underwear—and emptied the cup of water.

“Captain Buggy?” you said. “Captain Buggy, I’m sorry, but I think… It’s time to wake up.”

He groaned, flopping an arm over his head. You frowned. He would most certainly get angry if you were too pushy, but you had a feeling that if you let him sleep in too late, he’d also blame you.

“I brought you breakfast, Captain Buggy,” you told him. “If you don’t eat it soon, it’ll get cold.”

He mumbled something that sounded a bit like ‘I don’t give a shit.’

“Captain Buggy,” you said, tentatively touching his shoulder, “you’ll be upset later if you don’t wake up now.”

He groaned, almost growled, with irritation, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. For a second, you thought for sure that he would yell, but instead he rolled onto his side, reaching up. “Come—c’mere,” he said, getting a firm grip on the front of your sweater before you could think to escape, “no—just, come-c’mere-”

The only type of fight you put up was to go stiff as he pulled you onto the bed and pinned you against him, his hand over your mouth. Once you were there, he relaxed, keeping you in place with his own weight.

“Much better,” he said, his voice gravelly, vibrating against you.

You tugged on his wrist to move his hand from over your mouth, but Buggy didn’t budge, his breathing already evening out. He was warm, almost feverishly so. You squirmed, trying to ask him to stop, but the only thing you got was for his palm to clamp down that much harder to muffle your voice, threatening to suffocate you. His other hand settled flat under your neck to keep you still. When you stopped trying to talk and relaxed, so did he. Enough to let you breathe, at least.

Buggy’s breathing was getting deeper, you could feel his body move with it, pressing hot against your back. In response, you could feel your heart beating faster, picking up in speed as his hand dragged lower, passing over your chest to settle against your ribs, and then your stomach, rubbing slow circles as if he was petting a dog. You squirmed with more urgency to escape his hold, whining to express your discontent. Buggy’s hand kept getting lower. It was an idle movement, maybe he wasn’t even aware of it.

You squeezed your eye shut, so tense that your muscles trembled. Physically fighting him was out of the question, but you absolutely could not handle the way his hand was continually sliding down.

There was only one thing you could think of doing, but that seemed almost as bad as trying to elbow him or something. You tried again to complain, but all you got was his hand pressing harder on your face.

Buggy’s other hand reached the waistband of your leggings, and that was it.

“Ew, what the fuck!” Buggy suddenly exclaimed, pulling his hand away like you’d bitten him. “Did you just lick me?”

“Your eggs will get cold, Captain Buggy,” you told him, twisting out of his hold and onto the floor, falling with a painful thud. He watched you scramble to your feet like he was in shock, his mouth open and eyes squinted. “I’ll… I’ll…” You pointed at the antechamber, putting your head down and scurrying out of his room as fast as possible.

With shaking hands, you poured him a cup of water. You had no idea if he was going to get up now, but you didn’t think you could handle going back in there, flushing hot with embarrassment. Luckily, you did hear a thump, and then some grumbling, and then heavy, upset footsteps. You were prepared to apologize, your head down and the words ready.

“Why the hell did you let me drink so much?” Buggy demanded as he came in, frowning and disheveled with bloodshot eyes and messy hair. He didn’t seem to care that his robe was hanging open and revealing so much skin, too concerned with holding his head dramatically.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you told him. Did that mean he wasn’t upset about what you did? You relaxed slightly, trying to stomp out your awkward nerves, trying to get rid of the skin-crawling memory of his body against yours, of his hand on your belly, creeping lower and lower. “Crina gave me medicine that will help your head.” You shook two capsules from the bottle into your palm, holding them out like a peace offering.

Frowning, Buggy took the medicine and sat down, knocking the lid off his breakfast tray to swallow them with a mouthful of coffee.

“I ordered you something different, I hope you don’t mind,” you said, sitting across from him. “It’ll help with your hangover.”

Buggy grumbled under his breath, but he didn’t hesitate before picking up his fork, shoveling eggs onto it and then into his mouth. He ate so fast you weren’t even sure if he tasted anything. It was, if you were honest, pretty unappetizing, but being a messy eater seemed to be the pirate norm.

You sat across from him, focusing on finishing your own meal quickly. You didn’t think about what happened, or last night, or anything. Buggy seemed equally disinclined to engage, although the glazed-over look in his eyes made you think it was more out of exhaustion.

That, at least, was something you had in common.

Eventually, Buggy dropped his fork with a loud clatter, downing the rest of his coffee. “Okay, okay,” he said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his chin. “I’ll let you give me a shave.”

“What?” you asked, looking up.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” he snapped. “You were so eager the other day. Here’s your chance. Don’t mess it up.”

“Oh, um… Yes, sir.”

Nervously, you stood up, going into the other room. You knew where he kept his shaving supplies, they were lumped in with his makeup. Buggy wasn’t an especially organized man. Even when you tried to tidy things up, it was all out of order by the time you came back. You set up everything on his desk, just like when you removed his makeup, before throwing open the drapes and filling his bedroom with bright sunshine.

Every piece of the matching set was engraved with a flowery M. Whoever M was, he had great taste, or perhaps a very sentimental loved one. The razor was as fine as the one you had bought for your dad on his birthday last year. Buggy clearly hadn’t taken as good care of it as you would, but that was fine, nothing a bit of polish couldn’t help. With familiar, practiced strokes, you stropped the blade, ensuring it was as sharp as possible. Dad liked a perfectly clean shave, he said that anything less was unprofessional and slovenly. Buggy didn’t seem as particular, but you very keenly felt the weight of his standards.

“I can’t believe you let me sleep in so late,” Buggy said, stomping his way into the room to drop into his chair, his face scrunching up with displeasure at the light.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said absently, checking the blade and deeming it ready. Buggy watched with his seemingly fixed scowl as you set that aside to whip the shaving cream into a thick foam. It had a simple, clean scent. Familiar, even.

“May I?” You held up the brush loaded with shaving cream. Buggy lifted his chin, letting you coat his face and neck. You wondered what changed that he wasn’t afraid of letting you near his neck with a razor. Did that mean he trusted you? Or was he just too tired to do it himself?

Either way, you had to force yourself to calm down before using the blade to carefully draw a line out of the cream, starting from the sideburn. It was fine. You had done this hundreds of times, every other day or so for years. Just like when you removed his makeup, Buggy held still, closing his eyes and letting you take care of it.

You wiped the razor, changing the angle to get the contour of his jaw. It was difficult to not notice in general, but now you had to actively assess the structure of his face, and how could you not admire it? Even Buggy’s nose barely registered as strange and his cheekbones, his jaw, his chin, his neck—so pretty, so different from dad’s features which, although once had been noble and strong, drooped and bloated from age and liquor.

Stupid, useless thoughts.

Buggy helpfully drew his lips taut when you shaved around them, allowing you to angle his face to make sure you didn’t cut him.

“Raise your chin?” you asked, wiping the blade. He did, exposing his neck, and you felt a moment of embarrassed doubt. You saw him in so many states of undress, the sight of his bared neck shouldn’t have affected you, especially not when it was only so you could do your job. There wasn’t anything sensual about it, not really. Cursing yourself, you focused on the task at hand, paying no mind to the lines of tendons or his Adam’s apple or the angle of his jaw or anything other than not messing up.

You finished up on the opposite side of his face from where you started. Double checking that you hadn’t missed any spots, you nodded in satisfaction, wiping his skin clean of any remaining cream to apply aftershave. It had a nice warm smell, although Buggy pulled a face at the sting.

“There you go, sir,” you said, stepping back.

Buggy exhaled harshly, like he was waking up all over again. After yawning and rolling his neck, he picked up the hand mirror on his desk to check your work.

“Is that okay?” you asked hesitantly. You had done a good job, you knew you had. It was one of the few things that dad rarely ever got upset about.

Buggy shrugged. “It’ll do.”

Your shoulders drooped a little, but that was dumb. Trying to fish for compliments was childish and cheeky, you had done a job as he asked. He stood up and stretched with his arms above his head, and you ignored his near-nudity, your eye firmly fixed on your hands as you cleaned up.

“Guess I’m lucky, huh?” Buggy asked. “I mean, the last guy who let you at his neck with a knife got a little more shaved off then just some hair.” You went still, those words freezing you all the way inside out, your breath catching on the chill. Buggy seemed ignorant to your reaction, continuing on without missing a beat. “I gotta piss, go do… I don’t know, whatever your job is.”

Your shoulders drew up defensively, your eye fixed very firmly forward. “Yes, sir.”

A knot darkened a little eye into one of the wooden planks in Buggy’s office, the imperfection remaining even after it had been cut down, nailed into place, and sanded into uniformity. One eye, that’s it, the only thing that gave it any personality now that it had been chopped out of its tree and cut into shape, separated from its whole to be put to use. Boot prints tracked across it, filth and age wearing down the grain. You stared at its eye and wondered if it was happy with its lot in life, or if it missed the forest. Being a ship seemed more fun than being a tree, but somehow you got a feeling the eye disagreed with you.

“Hey, idiot,” Buggy said, snapping his fingers in front of your face, startling you. “Are you even listening to me?”

You blinked quickly, shaking your head as you looked over to him, confused. Distantly, you realized he had been talking. How long had you been sitting there? After you left his cabin that morning, you had been a little out of it. Too little sleep, too much excitement and exertion.

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy. I guess I… ” You blinked again, his unhappy expression finally registering. “I’m sorry, Captain Buggy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Go mope somewhere else. Your shitty attitude is making it hard to think.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said, standing up. “I’ll, um…” He raised his eyebrows, the expression clearly prompting you out of the room. You nodded and left, shaking your head to try and wake up.

How long had you been in that daze? Sometimes it happened so suddenly, so harshly, and then your day was eaten away with very little to show for it. Being quiet didn’t make your thoughts any more or less tolerable, it was the state of existing separate from the actions of your body. If anything, it was to be overwhelmed by the bad things, by the thoughts you didn’t want to think and the feelings you didn’t want to feel. A little like drowning, watching those little bubbles rise up to interact with a world you couldn’t handle.

You squinted at the violently bright sunshine, thinking about what to do. You considered finding Crina and asking if she needed help, but the little interaction you had that morning made you hesitate. She saw too much, asked too many questions, made assumptions about you that you didn’t like, and your feelings were confusing enough without her using her mystic divination to make you open up. Since you hadn’t especially endeared yourself to any other member of the crew, there was only one person who could possibly give you guidance.

When you finally found Cabaji, he was training with a few of the other pirates. You hesitated rather than approach him, hanging back and watching. There was a graceful ease to his movements, a nonchalant elegance. Cabaji made it look easy, swinging his sword around like it was a toy as he practiced different forms and attacks. It was the same as when he juggled. You remembered trying, and failing quite terribly, to juggle the night before.

Juggling, cards, singing, acrobatics, sword fighting, knot tying—the list of your failures had only grown since you joined the crew. And even that was a loose thing. Nobody saw you as a member of the crew, or even as a pirate.

Cabaji looked up right when you were about to turn away, his dark eyes fixing directly on you.

“Is there something you need?” he called, drawing the attention of the other crewmates he was training with. You shrunk back, pulling your bandana down.

“No, sir,” you said. “I was just…” Your nervous explanation trailed off as Cabaji approached you. His skin shined with sweat, drawing attention to his exposed chest. He was handsome, you could admit that to yourself if no one else. But he was also intimidating, and you would rather die than be accused of staring at him in any untoward way.

“Yes?” Cabaji asked, his eyebrow quirking. The other pirates he had been training with stood behind him, watching you with varying degrees of amusement.

“Do you… um, do you think you could teach me how to do that?”

That wasn’t what you intended to ask, but it felt right. Captain Buggy had made no mention of teaching you how to fight. He was too busy anyway. Crina said it was too dangerous for you to even try. Because you were frail and weak. Because you were easily tired and as breakable as glass. Compared to everybody else on the ship, you were practically an invalid. For so long, you had seen your eye as the thing that kept you from being equals with other people, but now you realized there were a lot of other reasons too.

But you didn’t want to be like that anymore. You would either force yourself to be better, or you would be left behind.

“How to do what?” Cabaji asked, his expression impossible for you to read.

“Fight?” Your answer made the little group behind him laugh.

Cabaji shot an irritated glance over his shoulder, shutting them up.

“I’m sure you’re too busy,” you said. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“No, that’s not a bad idea,” he allowed after a moment of thought. “You should be competent enough to avoid embarrassing Captain Buggy. Come over here.”

Cabaji casually flipped his sword and sheathed it as he turned back into the makeshift training area. The other pirates didn’t laugh at you when you followed, but their eyes were heavy on your skin. He showed no concern for them, stopping and whirling around to face you, his scarf flaring dramatically.

“The first thing you need to know,” Cabaji told you, “is that if it comes to a fight, you’ll lose. Always prioritize avoiding confrontation or escape. I’ll show you how to hold a sword properly because it could buy you some valuable time, but make no mistake, a real fight will end in your death.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, swallowing your anxiety. “I understand.”

“Good. We’ll start with your stance. You have to brace yourself so you can maintain your balance while swinging the sword. Like this.” Cabaji drew one foot behind himself, his knees bending a bit as he took a defensive stance.

You tried to copy him, but your body was stiff and awkward. Behind him, the group stifled their laughter and you immediately stopped, your body snapping back into your nervous posture.

“Ignore them,” Cabaji told you. “This is important. Try again, I’ll help you.”

“Yes, sir.” You took a deep breath before stepping your feet out, trying to copy his pose.

“You have to stand with your feet at least a shoulder’s width apart,” Cabaji said, walking behind you to kick your feet further, grabbing and turning your hips. “Like this. If you’re too stiff, you’ll get knocked off balance.”

“This feels awkward,” you said, trying very hard to ignore your skin-crawling discomfort. This sort of physical contact was normal. You were being weird, Cabaji was only helping you.

“It will be for a while, you have to practice. Eventually, it will become second nature.”

You nodded, trying to relax into the pose. He worked with you on that for a bit, having you find the stance from different positions, showing you how it would help you stay on your feet when he pushed at you. Even though it was just standing, it was oddly tiring. The sun shined so bright, and it was hot. Cabaji was patient. You knew he could tell when you got dizzy spells, but he didn’t say anything, letting you take breaks to get water so you didn’t collapse. Most of the onlookers grew bored of it, realizing you weren’t going to be entertaining, and that made it easier.

After he decided you were able to stand correctly, he drew his sword and held it out to you.

“I’ll let you borrow my sword for this,” Cabaji said.

You looked at the weapon. It was longer than a knife, and you weren't going to use it for anything. It wasn’t similar in any way at all, completely different. You weren’t going to hurt anybody. Taking a big breath, you gingerly accepted the sword. And then nearly dropped the weapon when you realized how heavy it was. Cabaji circled around you to help again, saying nothing about your weakness.

“Both hands—yes, like that.” You held your breath as he guided your hands on the hilt of the sword, his chest against your back as he showed you how to hold your arms. You could smell his skin, feel the warmth of it. A memory existed there, in the physical impression of being guided from behind. “The sword is an extension of yourself. You have to let it move with you, and know how to move with it.”

“It’s heavy,” you said, trying to swallow down your nerves.

“You’ll have to train your muscles,” Cabaji said. “Assuming you can.”

“I can,” you said quickly, turning to look at him only to realize how close he was. You had to look up to meet his eyes. They were so richly dark, a complete contrast to Buggy’s pale gaze.

“Woah, woah, woah, what do we have here?” A familiar voice called, almost as if summoned by your thought. Cabaji quickly stepped away. You almost dropped his sword, only barely avoiding letting it fall as you turned. Buggy’s steps as he approached were slow and steady, but his smile was tight. A pit of sickness tightened in your stomach when you thought about how that might have looked.

“Cabaji is teaching me how to fight,” you explained.

“Why?” Buggy asked, clearly amused by the idea. “I’ve seen kittens with a better chance at winning a fight than you.”

“It was my idea,” Cabaji said.

“No, that’s not true,” you interjected, frowning. “I asked him to show me.”

“Really?” Buggy asked. You didn’t understand his tone of voice, or the tension in the air.

“I want to be stronger,” you told him. “Like you, Captain Buggy.”

He scanned you from head to toe in a very obvious, borderline theatrical way before cracking up. Other people, the loose crowd of pirates who had crept closer to watch the scene, laughed along with him. It wasn’t even like it had been last night. He laughed meanly, inviting the others to laugh along with him.

After a second, Buggy held up a hand to stop the laughter, shaking his head. “Cabaji, get me a sword.” Buggy smiled at you. “I want to see what he’s taught you.”

“Nothing yet,” you said, nervous and insecure beyond words, your ears buzzing. “I don’t think I can-”

“The only way you can ever improve is through experience,” Buggy said, taking the sword Cabaji handed him and raising it like a challenge. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

“Stand like I showed you,” Cabaji instructed. There was nothing he could say or tell you to help, not when you only learned how to hold the weapon a couple minutes ago. “Swing the sword down and forward while stepping into the attack with your dominant foot.”

Buggy came to a stop opposite you. You had no idea what he meant by doing this. Embarrassing you? You didn’t understand. Everybody was watching. Your heart beat frantically in your chest, a fresh, prickling sweat breaking out on your brow.

Feeling more awkward than you ever had in your life, you stepped forward, awkwardly slashing in front of yourself. Buggy didn’t even try to parry your pathetic attack, or dodge it. He seemed to reach into it. Before you could think to draw back, the blade sliced through his wrist. There wasn’t any resistance, but his detached hand hit the deck with a dull thump, his sword hitting with a dull crash of metal.

Your weak, sweaty fingers immediately went limp, dropping the sword with a loud clang. Buggy’s eyes went wide before he shouted in pain, doubling over and cradling his arm while letting out a string of obscene words. You weren’t even sure you knew what half of them meant.

“Don’t just stand there, idiot!” He yelled hoarsely. “Grab my hand! Pick it up!”

Unsteady and more than a little sick, your mind whirling with raw panic, you stumbled forward to pick up his detached hand. There was no blood. In fact, the place where it had detached was unnaturally smooth. But it couldn’t have been a prop either, it was warm through the glove. And it was moving. From pinky to pointer, the fingers curled and uncurled. It wasn’t like twitching, it was the deliberate movement of a regular hand. The wrongness made you yelp, dropping it. Instead of hitting the floor again, his hand flipped through the air, meeting up with the stump at Buggy’s wrist. Reattaching as if connecting to something magnetic. He wasn’t shouting and cursing in pain anymore, he was laughing. Everybody who had gathered around was laughing too.

You felt dizzy enough to pass out, or maybe be sick. The hand you picked up was a real, human hand. Buggy’s hand. But it was right there on the end of his arm, fully intact.

Even Cabaji was smiling.

It was a prank? A joke? Your hands shook violently, your ears ringing. Even though it was different, it was the same as it had been. The hollow thump of flesh, the violence, the coldness of fear.

Buggy grabbed you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, his body shaking with laughter. “You okay?” he asked. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“How?” you asked softly, staring at his hand. It was attached fully, like it had never been separated. Buggy was fine. You hadn’t hurt him.

“You know what a Devil Fruit is, sweetheart?” Buggy asked.

You shook your head no.

“Thought not. Basically, I ate a funny lookin’ fruit and now I’ve got a super special trick up my sleeve.” He held out his arm, detaching it in segments before all the pieces popped back together.

“Oh,” you said faintly, the only thought you could really articulate.

“Sheesh, that got you good. That’s what you get for wandering away when I needed you. Not only that, but distracting poor Cabaji.” Buggy clicked his tongue, leaning down closer to speak soft enough for only you to hear. “I’ll let it slide this time, but from now on, you leave him alone.”

You cast a sideways glance at Cabaji as he picked up his sword, inspecting for any damage and very professionally ignoring you.

“That’s an order,” Buggy said, his arm tightening. You looked up to meet his eyes. So bright, so intense.

“Yes, sir.”

“Great,” Buggy said, releasing you before addressing the gathered group with an annoyed scowl. “Everybody, back to work!”

The pirates dispersed, some of them still smiling or laughing. You did nothing, standing there freezing beneath the hot sunshine.

Buggy shot an irritated glance over his shoulder. “Babydoll,” he snapped, whistling at you to follow. By now, you responded to the term of endearment like a name, hurrying to catch up as he stalked towards the quarter deck. “Maybe I oughta put a leash on you, keep you from wandering away.”

You swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat. You couldn’t trust that if you spoke, your voice would remain steady. It was like, all at once, your lack of sleep, physical exhaustion, and humiliated pain caught up with you, and you tripped, landing hard on one knee, your shin painfully banging into the edge of the top step. Your vision darkened on the edges before you got your arms propped up beneath you, wincing at the pain.

Staring hard at the ground, you saw Buggy’s shadow double back, and then his hand entered your field of vision, outstretched.

“Need a hand?” he asked. You looked up, a little confused about the kindness. But you weren’t about to reject the help.

“Thank you,” you said, grabbing his hand and using it to get onto your knee. Buggy pulled his arm away as soon as you started to stand, letting you fall back onto the deck with a yelp, his detached hand limp in yours.

“I know you only got one eye and all,” Buggy said, laughing, “but how did you not see that coming?”

You frowned, finally feeling the sting of tears in your eye, your chest aching with the little betrayal. After everything else, it just felt so cruel. With a strength that shouldn’t have been possible, his detached hand hauled you up onto your feet before it snapped back into place on his arm. You stumbled forward a few steps before getting your balance, but Buggy was already walking away, heading towards his office. You followed, wincing at the sharp pain lancing up from your shin.

The relative dark of the map room left you nearly blind, you knocked your hip against the table before steadying yourself again. Buggy threw open the doors to his office, going right to his desk to fall sideways into the chair, one leg thrown over the armrest and the other on the edge of the desk, his head lolling back dramatically for him to rub his temple.

“Sit down,” he bid you with a wave of his hand, like a ruler directing his subject. You sat, folding your hands in your lap nervously.

Slowly, Buggy’s expression of dramatic weariness became a smile, and then a chuckle. He dropped his hand, raising his head to look at you.

“That was hilarious. You shoulda seen your face when I started shouting. I really had you going.”

You frowned, your stomach twisting. It seemed like something you were meant to laugh along with, but you worried if you tried, you’d just wind up in tears. “Why didn’t you tell me you could do that?” you asked.

“You never asked,” Buggy answered, like it was obvious.

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded.

The silence dragged on and on, but the weight of Buggy’s eyes made it obvious that he wasn’t done talking. Suddenly, he stood up, taking slow steps around his desk. It forced you to look up at him. “What I wanna know,” Buggy said, tapping his pointer finger to his lips as if he was thinking seriously, “is why you went to Cabaji for help.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“That’s what you said earlier, wasn’t it?” Buggy asked, “you asked him to teach you how to fight. Kinda surprising honestly, I wouldn’t’ve thought you had the backbone. Maybe you and him are closer than I thought.”

“No, that’s not… We’re not that close.”

“So you asked him to teach you how to use a sword because you think he’s better than me?”

That question threw you off all over again. You had no idea how good of a fighter either man was, but you had a feeling that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“No, but you’re very busy, Captain Buggy. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Your answer didn’t seem to diffuse his growing displeasure like you hoped. Instead, his head lolled to the side, a casual pretense that didn’t at all match the disconcerting focus of his gaze. “I had no idea you even wanted to know how to fight. Last time I had to hold your hand through the whole thing, I kinda figured you weren’t cut out for that sort of thing.”

“All pirates know how to fight,” you said.

Buggy laughed, leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed. “Is that what you think you are? A pirate?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Eventually, you found your voice, but it was very soft. “I am.”

“Get real, babydoll. You’re barely a woman, let alone a pirate.”

“Then why did you hire me?” you asked, your cold voice nearly inaudible.

“Because when you were strung up, I saw something in you, something exciting. You showed me that you knew what you wanted, and you were willing to bleed for it. You recognized that to achieve greatness, you have to make sacrifices. But now that you’re here, it’s like you’ve got no vision, no drive to be anything more than the pathetic little thing you used to be. You’re just like all the others. I keep waiting for you to get it, but you won’t let me in.” He sighed, disappointed. “I guess I hoped that if you killed that guy, you could become more than the girl he thought you were, but you’re still clinging onto your old life. Until you let that go, you’re practically dead weight. I may as well send you back to your dad.”

“I am trying, Captain Buggy,” you argued, blinking very fast. “That’s why I asked Cabaji-

“What does Cabaji have to do with anything?” Buggy snapped. “You think that you’ll become somebody just because he teaches you how to toss around some balls or hold a sword? Don’t be stupid. You're trying to run when you can't even crawl.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice soft enough to not risk letting him hear it break. “I’ll… I’ll be better.”

Buggy crouched down in front of you, grabbing your shoulders. “I really want to mold you into something worth loving, but I can’t do that when you’re so… so frigid and frowny and boring. It’s like you’re afraid of being special.”

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” you whispered again, blinking fast. You wanted to keep your face hidden from him, but Buggy grabbed your chin, pulling your face up to look at your expression. What was lurking in his pale eyes? Sometimes his expression was so transparent, but all you could see was the sharp edge of his judgment.

Buggy released your chin, pushing you away from him as he stood up. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and reflect on your failure,” he said, the bite of disdain clear in his voice. “And I don’t wanna hear that you’re bothering Cabaji again, okay?”

“Yes, Captain Buggy.”

Curling up in your dark hiding spot amidst the storage crates beneath the forecastle, you cried. Even hating yourself for proving Buggy’s point, you couldn’t stop it from hurting. Everything hurt. Everything was scary. There was no place in the world where you belonged. It was the lesson dad tried to teach you over and over. Fundamentally, there was something wrong with you. Your poor health, your hysteria, your inability to get along with people, your ineptitude. You thought your life would change because your circumstances were different, but that was a silly dream. Unless you changed, nothing would ever work out.

It was like blinking. If blinking carved out several hours from your life that you couldn’t remember and left you stiff from sleeping curled up in a ball on the floor.

Waking up from an unintended nap, especially waking up in the dark, not knowing how much time had passed or even where you were, was terrifying. At first you assumed you were in the basement, but the smell was wrong. You weren’t at home. You laid on a wooden deck, not stone. The pain striking up your shin was the first reminder of what had happened, and then everything else fit into place.

You crawled out from the storage area, wincing at the various aches and pains plaguing your body. Wiping the crust of tears from your eye and fixing your bandana, you made your way to the shared living space with half an idea about supper, and a very strong motivation. Buggy was right, you weren’t trying hard enough. You needed to change, that was what you wanted, that was why you ran away. You could be what Captain Buggy wanted you to be. You had to.

Luckily, Pippa sat on her bed filing her nails and talking with the man who slept in the bunk next to yours. Marty, you thought he was called.

“You alright, girly?” Marty called as you approached. “You look a little shaken up.”

It took a second for you to realize that he was, in fact, talking to you. Given the cold reception you’d experienced so far, it seemed a bit unbelievable, but he was looking right at you.

“That’s just how she looks,” Pippa said, focused entirely on her nails.

“That was one hell of a shock the captain gave you.” He laughed. “I’m surprised you hadn’t seen his trick before, he musta been planning doing something like this. Those Devil Fruits are something else.”

“You all knew?” you asked, taken aback. “About his—What can he can do, I mean.”

“Don’t take it too hard,” Marty said. “He did you a favor. Before now, nobody knew what to make of you. Now you’re… I dunno, you’re more like-”

“One of us. Congratulations,” Pippa said glibly.

You nodded like you understood, still a little dazed, dizzy from sleeping. “Um, are we going to eat soon?”

“You’re too late for that,” Marty said.

“Oh,” was the only response you could manage. While your stomach did pitch a bit of a fit, it wasn’t the first time you’d gone without supper. It was, in some ways, a fitting punishment. You took a deep breath, trying to wake yourself up. Focus. Be brave.

“Pippa?” you asked.

“Yes?” she asked, still focused on her nails.

“You know things about makeup and stuff, right? And clothes and hair and… I was wondering if you could, um, I don’t know… Show me how?”

“Show you how?” she asked, finally setting aside the file to look at you.

“I want to,” you looked around at the colorful cast of pirates, “I want to fit in more, but I don’t know how to do any of that.”

Pippa looked you up and down with an icy gaze, studying you like a test subject before pursing her lips.

“Are those the only clothes you own?” she asked.

You stupidly looked down at the loose sweater and leggings you knew you were wearing as if to check. “Nn-no, I have other sweaters and-”

“I’m aware of your collection of ugly sweaters. Don’t you have anything that isn’t entirely hideous?”

You adjusted your clothes, your shoulders curling in with insecurity. “No.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “You can’t dress like that anymore.”

“When we get to port I can buy something else,” you offered, although you realized with a pang of unease that you didn’t know if you were earning money. Neither Buggy or Cabaji had mentioned any sort of salary.

“No, that won’t do.” Pippa stood up to grab her trunk off your bed, hefting down with ease. With a rattle of metal, she flipped the lid, revealing piles of colorful clothes. “You’re small,” she said, glancing up at you with a frown. She picked through the pile before pulling out something with red and white stripes, giving it a hard look before nodding. “This is too short for me,” Pippa told you, holding it out. “Try it on.”

“Here?” you asked, looking around nervously.

“Promise nobody’s lookin’,” Marty called from the next bunk, watching with a reassuring grin.

Not knowing what else to do, you accepted the dress, holding it up. Casual as it was, the garment was lovely, more outrageous than anything else you had ever put on. Thinking about calling that much attention to yourself made your skin crawl. If you wore it, you would fit in with everybody else.

Buggy said you needed to try. You didn’t have any other choice.

Taking a deep breath, you turned around to hide yourself as much as possible, pulling off your sweater to exchange it for the dress. It didn’t quite fit, although the hem fell around the right place. Pippa came up behind you to tighten the ribbon-like laces that ran up the back of the bodice, tying them in a bow around your waist. When she finished and you turned around to face them, she smiled approvingly.

“Much better,” Pippa said. “If your legs get cold, you could add some stockings. I have some that would match.”

“Can’t I wear it with these?” you asked, pinching your leggings.

“Absolutely not,” Pippa said, wincing like it was terrible to even consider.

“What if the wind blows the skirt up?”

Pippa nodded, returning to the trunk to dig around before emerging with something lacy. “These should fit you.” She tossed them at you to hold up, realizing they were like shorts.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” you asked.

“For this lot?” Marty asked, laughing at the idea.

“I assume you don’t have any makeup,” Pippa said.

“I’ve never even worn any,” you said, tugging your bandana down. Once you experimented with some of mom’s makeup, really just with the lipstick, you weren’t sure how to use most of the products. Dad did not like it.

Pippa sighed. “I’ll get up in the morning and help you. Maybe do something about that hair too. What do you think about twintails?”

You touched your hair, pulling it forward nervously. “I don’t know…”

“You’re a freak, aren’t you?” she asked, raising a carefully tweezed eyebrow. “You’ve gotta look the part.”

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown #my writing #flashbang

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 4 months

Text

Everybody Hurts

Chapter 19

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

Next chapter: 01/03

Word Count: 7K

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

That place…lightning and a red sky. You couldn’t get it out of your head. You couldn’t stop picturing it, trying to make it make sense, trying to figure out where it could be, this place that haunted him, wouldn’t let him rest. Could it be the mall fire? The flames and smoke could have made the sky appear red…but didn’t the fire happen at night? And was there a storm that night? You didn’t remember there being any mention of a storm in the news articles you'd read. But with so many deaths, the weather could have been an inconsequential detail.

You lay back on the couch, Eddie’s heavy weight pressing you down into the cushions as he slept, wrapped around you like a baby lemur. His arms were locked around your waist and his leg wound around your thigh. Soft snores rumbled between his lips from where his head rested on your chest. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to and you didn’t find yourself inclined to do so, comforted by the warmth of his body, your own personal man-shaped heating blanket.

Your fingers danced over his dark locks, appearing almost black in the darkness of the room, rubbing the ends between your thumb and finger. He’d finally calmed, slipped into sleep, about an hour ago, once the thunder and the lightning had subsided. But you found yourself wide awake, your brain unable to stop the mad dash it was in as it tried to search for answers to your never-ending questions.

Soft whimpers filled the silence as Eddie began to move, small, jerky movements at first, building into more erratic ones. His head shook from side to side, jaw stabbing into your sternum, fingers trembling against your back. Then his arms shot out from underneath you and you made a cage with your own around your head, preparing for him to lash out. Because that’s always where it led. You had quickly learned within the past week to dart out of the way once the nightmares took over but there was nowhere for you to go with him on top of you and he was going to feel awful if he managed to hurt you again.

“No! No! Dustin, please!”

“Eddie!” you cried out, trying to break through the horrible memory he was living, to bring him back to the present, to you. “Eddie! It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“No! Stop! Please!”

His body flailed on top of yours and you grunted, gasping for breath when his elbow slammed into your ribs. Jesus, he was heavier than he looked, his panicked writhing weight making it hard for you to breathe. You reached out, wrapping your arms around him, trying to stop his movements before he hurt you. You couldn’t bear to see that guilt devouring him again. He didn’t mean it, had no control of it, but he would never look at it that way.

“Eddie! Eddie, you’re safe,” you cried, holding onto him as tightly as you could but he was so much stronger than you and you couldn’t keep him still no matter how you tried. “I’m here. You’re safe. You’re with me. You’re not in that place. It’s okay. Just open your eyes, baby. Come back to me. It’s okay.”

Deep brown eyes shot open, darting around the room as if searching for any signs of danger, a wild animal ready to defend against a predator. His large hands gripped your arms tightly and when his eyes finally found yours, you could see as he visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping, tense muscles in his face releasing. Then his hands were cupping your face, so gently, as if you were made of glass.

“Are you okay? I didn’t…did I hurt you?” he asked and your heart broke with the fear in his words, the tremble in his voice. This man, who was tormented every night by monsters you didn’t know, was more concerned for you than he was for himself.

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you assured him with a shake of your head, hands running up and down his back soothingly. “I’m fine. Really. Are you okay?”

“I’m…fuck. No. I’m never okay, am I? Okay people don’t turn into massive babies because of a little thunder and lightning, they don’t fight invisible monsters in their sleep every damn night, and they don’t have to worry that they’re going to hurt their girlfriend.”

“Eddie, it’s okay. I know what to do now. You haven’t hurt me since that first time.”

“Princess,” he huffed, pulling away from you, sitting up. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, all mussed, smushed down on one side from where his face had been pressed against you. “This is insane. You know that, right? You shouldn’t have to think up defensive tactics just to be able to sleep next to the guy you’re seeing.”

“It’s not a big deal, Eddie. It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Did you even sleep?” challenged Eddie, dark eyes shooting over to you. “Or did you lay awake just waiting for the moment that I lost my shit, getting ready to cover yourself in case of attack?”

“I wasn’t sleeping but it had nothing to do with that. I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what? How you made a massive fucking mistake deciding to date someone as unstable as me?”

“Jesus, no,” you groaned, pulling yourself up next to him. Your arms came around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder. “Just thinking. Us women are quite known for that, you know. Men just lay down and conk out. Us women have to run through all the problems of the world first, not to mention our to-do lists and chastise ourselves for everything we didn’t get done on our to-do lists that are still on there for tomorrow now, and we have to think of all the ways we’ve failed that day. It’s a lot to run through and sometimes it makes for bad sleep. That’s all.”

Eddie’s cheek pressed against the top of your head, his fingers running along your forearm, the movement soothing. Back and forth. Back and forth. Each sweep of his fingers caused your eyelids to droop, the lack of sleep you'd been experiencing for the past week starting to catch up to you. Your body was desperate for some real rest, a full eight hours of uninterrupted slumber.

But there was only one way for you to get that and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t ask him not to stay over with you. His face, the expression of hurt that would be on it, flashed before your eyes and no. You couldn’t be the cause of that. You couldn’t be just one more person who couldn’t accept him for who he was. You wanted him, wanted this, in spite of all of his baggage. And if that was the case, then you needed to heft up some of the load and figure out how to make it work.

“Hey, come here,” he whispered, twisting his torso to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into the safety of his chest. He sank back into the couch, bringing you with him, his lips brushing over your forehead. “You sleep for a bit, okay? I’ll stay awake this time.”

“No, it’s okay. You need…”

A calloused finger pressed against your lips, “You need sleep, too. Let me be the one who’s got you right now, okay? Just close your eyes and relax. No alarms need to be set. No big schedule or to-do list for today. It’s Saturday. Just get some rest. I couldn’t go back to sleep right now if I wanted to, anyway.” Eddie shifted and then you heard the sound of the tv, turned low, through the sleep that was pulling you under. “Just sleep, baby. I’ve got you.”

And then you were gone, Eddie’s heartbeat your own perfect lullaby, sending you off to peaceful dreams.

____________________________________________________________

“Come on,” Eddie whined, dragging you behind him, your feet rushing to keep up with his long strides, toward his van.

“Where are we going?” you laughed, feeling much more yourself after a solid seven hours of sleep.

Eddie had let you sleep until eleven. You'd woken to the smell of bacon beckoning you to the kitchen where Eddie stood in his boxers, frying eggs and popping Eggos down into the toaster, a sight you could definitely get used to. All lean lines, long limbs, and inked skin. You could not think of a single thing more beautiful than Eddie at that moment. You'd enjoyed a large breakfast where he’d been bouncing like a kid who was getting ready to head off to the amusement park and just couldn’t wait, pressing you to eat faster.

He’d told you that he had a big surprise for you but he would not tell you what it was. So, you had headed in for what was supposed to be a quick shower but became anything but when Eddie decided to join you. Borrowing one of his Iron Maiden tees, pairing it with the shorts you'd worn yesterday, you had brushed out your hair and called it good because Eddie appeared to be in a rush.

“Eddie, seriously,” you laughed as he ushered you into the passenger seat and then raced around to the driver’s seat. “What are you in such a hurry for?”

He turned to you, eyebrows raising and dropping dramatically, that grin taking up his entire face. “You’ll see.”

What in the world was he up to? Eddie turned up the music, hands drumming along to ‘Sacrifice’ by Motorhead. The windows were down, a warm breeze moving through the van on this perfect late spring day. You tilted your head, your arm propped on the frame of the door, closing your eyes, relishing the feel of the warm sun beating down, the wind rushing through your damp hair.

School was going to be out in just one week. Come Friday when that bell rang, you would be facing ten glorious weeks of freedom. Two months ago that had sounded like hell. Ten weeks of nothing ahead of you. Ten weeks of working on whatever house projects you could scrounge up the money for just to keep yourself busy. Ten weeks to dwell on all the ways your life had gone wrong, how you were thirty and all alone and that wasn’t likely to change soon.

But now, you were looking forward to all that time. Time you could spend with your new friends. Time you could spend with Eddie. Yes, you still planned on doing some things around your house. But now instead of sitting alone in your house with a carton of Chinese food and television, you could picture cookouts and bonfires in the backyard with friends. Instead of silent mornings, drinking your coffee on the couch while reading a book, you could see you and Eddie staying in bed far too late, wrapped up in each other, before tumbling out to make pancakes. You could see long, hot days spent at the lake, strolling with Eddie through town as ice cream dripped down your fingers, Tuesday nights sitting at The Hideout watching his band play. The future suddenly looked bright, as if someone had changed the bulb, shining light into the dull dreariness that your life had been.

“So, before we get to this surprise, there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” Eddie announced, turning the volume down to conversation level.

“Okay.”

He looked so nervous, tongue dancing around the corner of his mouth, his fingers gripping and loosening around the steering wheel. You turned in your seat a bit, noticing those little lines between his eyebrows, the ones you always wanted to smooth out with your fingers when they appeared. Something was making him nervous and you weren't sure if you should be too.

“I told my uncle about us.”

“Okay. Is that a bad thing? I mean, everyone else knows, right? So he’d find out eventually.”

“Yeah, no. I mean, it’s not a bad thing. Trust me, the old man is thrilled. I mean, he’s ready to throw a party and invite the entire town to celebrate the fact that I am finally dating someone seriously. He was convinced I was going to be living alone in that house, yelling at kids when they walked through my grass, angry and spiteful at everybody, hating the entire world. So, trust me, he might just be happier than anyone else.”

You laughed, picturing a crotchety old Eddie, waves that had long gone white billowing behind him, as he shook his cane at kids. His cane wouldn’t just be any old cane either. No. It would be something impressive, ebony wood with some crude silver topper, maybe a hog’s head or a skull to match his rings.

“Alright, so what’s the problem then?”

“The problem is that he’s been bugging me. Hell, he’s been harassing me every day since I told him to bring you over there for dinner so he can meet you.”

“But we met,” you laughed, remembering that day. The gentle, kind man so opposite from Eddie’s surly and rough demeanor. The man who’d had a glimmer of hope in his eyes that you were more than just some girl Eddie brought around to see a car. “Doesn’t he remember me coming over there to look at the car?”

“Yes, but he wants to meet you as my girlfriend,” snorted Eddie, rolling his eyes. “Like you’re a completely different person now that we’re dating or something. Look, we don’t have to do it. I can come up with some excuse if you’re uncomfortable with the idea of meeting the parent. I mean, I know we haven’t been dating that long and it’s probably weird, right? Is it weird?”

“No, it’s not weird,” you answered, meaning it. You were genuinely touched that his uncle wanted to invite you over, that Eddie seemed to want you to get to know the man who raised him. “I mean, when were you thinking about doing dinner?”

“Tonight.”

“Oh…” You trailed off, your stomach suddenly knotting up with nerves. Yes, you'd met the guy but that had been as just some girl that Eddie was bringing to possibly buy his car. This man meant everything to Eddie. You wanted to go. You wanted to go because Eddie wanted you to but if you made the wrong impression, if his uncle didn’t like you, would Eddie still want to date you?

“Like I said, we don’t have to,” Eddie reminded, his hand coming to find yours, fingers slipping between your own. “I can just try to deter him for a while longer until you’re ready. But I want you, he is pretty stubborn so it might not be long before he shows up on your doorstep.”

“No. I want to,” you stated, nodding and you did. You just didn’t want to say or do anything wrong. “We can have dinner with him tonight. Your uncle seems like a great guy.”

“That he is. He can come off as a little gruff,” Eddie chortled, shaking his head. “But he’s a big ass softy.”

“Hmm…sounds like someone else I know,” you teased with a smile.

The van turned onto the main road and then Eddie was pulling into a spot right in front of Melvald’s, the local general store. You knew that Will’s mom, Joyce, worked there. You'd met her the day you'd headed into town to buy a few things for the house. But you couldn’t figure out what Eddie would be so excited about at a general store.

“We’re going to Melvald’s?” you asked, confused.

“No, we’re going next door.”

Eddie pointed out of his windshield and your eyes tracked it, landing on a sign that read ‘Hawkins Animal Shelter.’ Why would they be…then it hit you. You turned to him, jaw dropped, eyes wide.

“Eddie, no…”

“I thought since your ex is a massive dickbag who took your dog that you might want another furry companion to cuddle.” He shrugged, that cute little smirk you loved so much curving his lips as he shook his hair. “I mean, besides me, of course. Look, maybe I’m overstepping but the idea just came to me this morning. I was watching you sleep and…”

“You were watching me sleep? Creepy, much?” you joked with a grin.

“Yeah, well, I am the town freak, sweetheart. Gotta live up to the name. But anyway, I was watching you and thinking how damn lucky I am to have found you, someone who is willing to put up with all my bullshit and my neurotic behavior. Anyway, I wanted to do something nice for you. And I didn’t want to do flowers or chocolate or that boring shit guys usually do. And then it came to me. You miss your dog. So, I thought maybe you’d like to find a new little guy who needs someone to love.”

“That is…” Your voice broke and you cleared your throat. “That’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me. But Eddie, you don’t have to thank me for anything. I just want to be here for you.”

“No, I know. I know you do. I just…you know, I’m not good at always saying shit. And I just want you to know how much it means to me that you haven’t gone running for the hills yet. Because nobody would blame you if you did. I’m a lot. I know I am.”

“You’re not a lot. You’re just enough. Eddie Munson, you’re perfect.”

His hand rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, “Sweetheart, did you get into my stash because…”

“Stop it,” you laughed, swatting at him.

“Alright, you ready to go find a new friend?”

“Yes!” you squealed, hopping out of the van.

Eddie grinned as he came around to you, his arms circling your waist, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. His finger booped your nose.

“You are fucking adorable when you’re excited.”

You were probably smiling like an idiot but you didn’t care. You didn’t care because this man enjoyed you, all of your quirks and your flaws. He didn’t mind if you used your teacher voice, didn’t care that stupid things made you giddy, wasn’t bothered when you randomly broke out into song because everything reminded you of a lyric. All things that Cam used to hate but Eddie only seemed to find endearing.

His hand trailed down to the small of your back, guiding you into the shelter. You were greeted by a cacophony of barks, a symphony of high and low, but all sounding very excited to possibly have new friends visiting. A young guy who looked to be in his early twenties approached you with a warm smile.

“Hi there. Are we looking for a new four-legged friend today?”

“She is,” Eddie told him.

“And do we know about what size of dog we want?”

Your cheeks puffed up and then you released a long breath, “No idea. I don’t really care. I just want a dog that’s mine.”

“Something bigger,” Eddie answered and when you looked up at him in confusion, he shrugged one shoulder and added, “you know, for protection.”

“Protection? What do I need protected from in Hawkins?”

“Stop assuming that this place is safe just because it’s a small town,” Eddie told you, his tone far more serious than seemed necessary. “You have no idea the things that…look, bad things can happen anywhere, right? It doesn’t matter. Big cities and small towns. You live all alone. Would it be the worst idea to have a bigger dog?”

“No. I guess not. I’m not against a bigger dog. I mean, Marley was a husky.”

“Husky, you say? Well, then I may have just the buddy for you,” the guy told you, gesturing for the two of you to follow him into the back.

Kennel after kennel ran along the wall. Sweet little faces, standing on their back legs, paws up on the bars, greeted you as you walked by and you wondered how you would ever pick just one to save and bring home. You wanted to unlock every single gate and tell the guy to load them all up in the back of the van but you knew you couldn’t. You didn’t have the room or the money for all of that.

“This guy just came in yesterday. They found him wandering around out by where the old lab used to be.” You seemed to be the only one who noticed Eddie stiffen, the guy completely oblivious to the change in his body language. “The best we can guess is he’s got some husky and doberman in him. So, he’d made a great guard dog. We’ve named him Reese because of the black and brown. Get it? Like Reeses Cups?”

“Yeah, we get it,” Eddie snorted.

“Of course, you can change that name if you’d like. He’s not used to it yet as he’s only been here a day. He seems young. We’re thinking maybe four months old.”

He opened the door of the kennel and the young pup came bounding out. You knelt down to the floor and he lunged at you, wet kisses all over your face and just like that, you were in love. Giggles rose from your belly as you ran your hand down his fur and he spun in a circle before sitting down in your lap.

“I would say it looks like we’ve found a match,” the guy beamed.

“He clearly seems to think so,” chuckled Eddie, squatting next to you to scratch behind his ears. “So, what do you think?”

“I think I love him already,” you breathed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I would say the feeling’s mutual. He’s already staking his claim,” laughed the guy.

“Alright. Well, let’s just get something clear, my little furry friend,” Eddie told the pup, taking his face in his hands. “You have to share. No staking claims. She was mine first.”

Reese tilted his head from one side to the other as if he could understand Eddie’s words. Then he lurched forward, paws flat into Eddie’s chest, and the man was on his back, Reese covering his face in kisses as he laughed.

“I would say he’s a winner,” you told the guy happily. “So, what do we have to do?”

“Just some paperwork to fill out. We get him up to date on all of his shots for you and get him fixed. He just got here yesterday so we haven’t had a chance. Our vet will be taking a look at him on Monday. So, you should be able to take him home by the end of next week.”

“Alright. Give me the papers,” you stated, watching with amusement as Reese bounded all around Eddie before jumping on him once again. It looked like you weren't the only one the dog was staking claim to.

___________________________________________________________

“Finally!” Uncle Wayne announced loudly as he swung the door of the trailer open. “I have been bugging him to bring you over. I never thought he was gonna do it. This nephew of mine doesn’t seem to want to share you, wants to hide you.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Eddie sighed, rolling his eyes at his uncle. “We’ve barely decided we’re in a relationship. You act like I’ve been seeing her for a year.”

“Still, glad he finally brought you over. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting any of Ed’s girls. He’s never brought them around. You’d think he’s ashamed of this old man or something.” He winked, elbowing Eddie gently in the ribs to let him know he was kidding around.

“No, I never brought anyone around because I never had a girl,” Eddie stated.

“Oh, there’ve been girls.”

“No. There’s been flings. I’ve never had anyone I was serious enough about to warrant bringing them over to meet you.”

Wayne’s eyebrows lifted, teeth flashing as he grinned, “Serious, huh? So this thing here is serious? Well, that’s damn nice to hear. It’s about time. I thought Eight Ball was going to get a slew of new friends when you became an old bachelor just like your uncle.”

“Eight Ball?” you asked.

A small meow greeted you, a black cat appearing from behind the recliner, beckoned at the sound of his name. He gracefully pawed his way over, rubbing himself in between your legs. You knelt down, running your hand over his sleek fur, smiling when he purred in response, bright green eyes closing in contentment as he nuzzled his face into your palm.

“That’s Eight Ball,” Wayne explained, swinging his hand in the direction of the cat.

“What a funny name for a cat,” you laughed. “What made you decide to name him that?”

“I didn’t name him nothing,” he told you, pointing at Eddie. “This guy’s the one who picked the name.”

“I found him by the dumpster behind the pool hall,” Eddie explained with a shrug, kneeling next to you, one finger coming out to rub under the sweet kitty’s chin. “I had slipped out back for a smoke and this little guy came right up, rubbing all over me. I pet him and tried to go back in but he followed me. I thought he might be hungry so I snuck inside and stole some ground beef from the kitchen. After that, it was a done deal. The cat was on my heels, followed me to my van, meowing, looking at me with those big old eyes. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t leave him out there. It was January in Indiana and cold as hell. Little guy could have frozen to death if I didn’t bring him home.”

“Yeah. I come home from work in the morning, dead tired on my feet, and almost step on this guy as he darts between my feet, demanding food. I wound up falling on my ass, staring at this cat, wondering where the hell he came from,” Wayne chuckled. “Didn’t take me long to figure out it was Eddie. He was always trying to bring home strays. He fed a damn raccoon once and the thing wouldn’t leave, kept coming around, getting into the garbage. I yelled for him and he came stumbling out, half asleep. I asked him what the hell this cat was doing in my trailer. I had every intention of telling him to get it out of here but he turned those damn sad eyes on me and I couldn’t say no.”

“The cat?”

“No, Eddie!” Wayne harrumphed. “I’m sure he’s used that look on you, those eyes like a damn baby deer, looking all sad and shit. He knows how to pull at the heartstrings with those things. I’ve never been able to say no to him. Those eyes got him out of a lot of trouble, let me tell you. Never could stay mad at him for long.”

You smiled, glancing over at Eddie who smirked, lifting one shoulder. Oh yeah. You knew exactly what eyes Wayne was talking about. Those eyes could melt you into a puddle on the spot. Those eyes had you completely wrapped around his finger. You weren't sure there was anything you could deny him if he asked.

“So, if he’s Eddie’s cat, why didn’t you take him when you moved out?” you asked, rising to your feet as Eddie sat down, folding his legs, the cat curling up in his lap.

“Because that old man can say whatever he wants but he loves this cat. He bitched about him all the time. He was under his feet. He was in his bed. He scratched up the couch. But then I would come home to find him napping in the recliner, Eight Ball curled up on his chest. I felt bad about leaving him here all alone so this way, he’s got a friend.” The cat rubbed his cheek against Eddie’s and Eddie planted a kiss on his nose. “Huh? Doesn’t he, buddy? You’re Uncle Wayne’s best pal, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess he grew on me. Well, come and have a seat. Dinner should be ready.” Wayne’s hand came to the back of his neck, rubbing nervously, a habit that seemed quite familiar. “We uh…well, we don’t have a large enough table for all of us so I thought we could eat at the coffee table. Sorry. Don’t usually have more than Ed over for meals. Would that be alright?”

“That’s perfect,” you assured him, recognizing the embarrassment he was feeling at how small his trailer was. “I have a table but I eat at my coffee table all the time.”

“Well, alright then. Have a seat and I’ll bring in the plates. I made a pot roast. Hope that’s good.”

“That sounds perfect. Do you need any help?”

“Oh no. I got it. I’m not as old as Ed likes to make me out to be, you know. Just go relax and I’ll bring everything in.”

Eddie stood up, placing Eight Ball onto the floor, brushing his hands on his jeans. The cat looked offended but sauntered off into a room in the back of the trailer. Eddie followed you over, sitting down on the floor next to you. His hand covered your knee as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, soft and sweet and leaving you wanting more.

“Thanks,” he said, quietly enough to not be heard over the clanging of plates as Wayne assembled their dinner.

“Not that I’m complaining. I’ll take that kind of thank you any time you want to give it but for what?”

“For being you, for not making a big deal about my uncle living in a trailer or eating at the coffee table.”

“Why would I make it a big deal? It’s not a big deal. It’s just a table. And who cares where he lives? Personally, I love this trailer. It’s so cozy. I love his little collection of ball caps and mugs. It makes it feel like a home, like a place where you can just be comfortable.”

Eddie laughed, “Yeah, well not everyone thinks like that. Why do you think you’re the first girl I've ever brought around here?”

“I thought it was because I was the first one you were serious about,” you teased. “Or were you just saying that for his benefit?”

“No, that’s definitely a big part of it. But even when I still lived here, I never brought a girl around that I was seeing. Hell, sometimes when I told them where I lived, they’d get this look, you know? Like they smelled something bad and that something was me. Of course, the town already knew where I lived so some girls said shit anyway. They’d rather hook up in the back of my van or in the middle of the woods or the alley behind the bar…”

You clasped his lips between your fingers, “Eddie, I get it. I know you’re no virgin and have a lot more experience than me. And that’s fine but I’d really rather not listen to you laundry list all of the places you’ve had sex or how many girls you’ve had it with.”

He smiled, his lips flattening in your fingers and you laughed because he looked so ridiculous. You let go and he nipped at your hand playfully.

“Sorry. My foot and my mouth need to be way less friendly with each other,” he sighed. “Harrington tries to tell me to think about what I’m saying first but the thought just shoots right from my brain and out of my mouth before I can do anything about it. Anyway, it means a lot that you’re not making my uncle feel uncomfortable about what he has.”

“Of course not. Eddie, the richest men in the world can be the unhappiest. They can also be absolute pricks. Money does not define a person. Your uncle seems pretty damn happy. His face absolutely lights up when he sees you. You are obviously his favorite thing ever.” You leaned in close, your forehead pressing against his. “And I know the feeling quite well.”

The smile he gave you could have lit up the whole town. It was like a sunspot emerging through the canopy of trees in a dark forest. It was pure light, a glow from within that radiated everywhere, warming everything that it touched. His eyes lit up with the beauty of that smile and you swore, right then, that you would do everything you could to make him smile like that every single day.

“Where in the hell did you come from?” mused Eddie, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Galena, Illinois,” you said with a grin.

“Galena, huh?” asked Uncle Wayne as he set two plates of food in front of them. Pot roast, mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, and gravy: a feast that had your tummy rumbling in hunger. “I drove through there one time on my way to Chicago for a Stones concert.”

“You saw the Stones?” asked Eddie, wasting no time digging in, scooping a heapful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “How have you never told me that?”

Wayne shrugged as he walked in with his own plate, plopping down in his recliner, leaning forward, “Never came up and you never asked, I guess.”

“How could I ask about something I didn’t know about? And never came up? I play music. I love music. I am in a band. How would it not come up that you’ve seen the Stones play live?”

“I don’t know. It just never did. It was…” His face crinkled in thought, deep furrows appearing on his forehead. “It must have been ‘64, I think. Went with a bunch of friends of mine. Hell of a night. Hell of a morning after too.”

He chuckled and Eddie glanced over at you in amusement, “Party a little too hard there, old man?”

“You could say that. Of course I wasn’t an old man then. There was some drinking…and some other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” Eddie questioned, interest piqued as his body leaned in, effectively blocking you from your food. “What other stuff?”

“I may have tried a little LSD that night,” Wayne admitted and when Eddie gasped, he held his hand out, shaking his head. “It was the ‘60s. Everyone was trying every damn thing. It was just the once. Man, I swore I was hearing colors and seeing the music. It was the trippiest fucking thing ever. I didn’t like it. Don’t like losing control of my faculties. Swore I’d never do it again.”

“All those times you’d lecture me about drugs…” Eddie clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I did because I know what they do. Not that you ever listened for all the good it did.”

“Oh, it was just marijuana. Shit, man, not even I have done LSD.”

“Well, good for you. There’s one thing you haven’t tried,” Wayne scoffed, spearing a hunk of roast.

“There’s loads of things I haven’t tried. Even I drew the line at needles.”

Your eyes went wide, “Well, I guess at least you have a limit.”

“I mean, I don’t do any of that shit anymore. Well, weed, but that’s it and that’s barely even a drug. I haven’t done Coke or Special K or X in years. And I never touched heroin or meth. That shit would fuck you up. I watched a couple guys lose everything because of it. I’m not scared of needles but the shit they’d mix in that stuff without you knowing could kill you with one dose. No thanks, man.”

“Well, now, how about we switch over to a more dinner appropriate topic?” Wayne urged and you had to agree. “So sweetheart, tell me about yourself. Ed here doesn’t like to share much so I don't know anything about you except that you’re a teacher.”

“Umm, well, I mean, I don’t know what else there is to tell. I’m really not that interesting.”

Wayne’s eyes narrowed, “Now that can’t be true, not if my Eddie likes you so much. Something piqued his interest. What brought you here from Galena?”

“Oh, I got a job offer at Hawkins Elementary and decided to take it,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your water. “I mean, there’s not much more to the story. I didn’t particularly choose Hawkins. I was just looking for a fresh start and when they offered me the teaching position, this seemed as good a place as any.”

Wayne sat back, folding his hands over his stomach, “Well, now, in my experience if someone needs a fresh start, there’s a reason. Was there a reason?”

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie muttered in warning, those dark eyes flashing up at his uncle.

But the warning wasn’t necessary. It made sense that he would be curious about the girl who was dating his nephew. Besides, he was bound to find out eventually that Eddie was dating a divorcee. What did it matter if you told him now or in six months?

When it had first happened, you had been humiliated, embarrassed, and didn't want to show your face. You hated having to open your mouth and admit what you'd allowed your husband and best friend to do. To admit that you'd been dumb enough to not know. But now, sitting here with Eddie, you found it didn’t really matter anymore. Because, if Cam and Cassie had never done what they did, you wouldn’t have come to Hawkins. You wouldn’t have all the new friends you'd made and you wouldn’t have Eddie. So, really, even if it hadn’t felt like it at the time, your ex husband and ex best friend had done you a favor.

Besides, it wasn’t your shame. You hadn’t been the one to betray your marriage, to throw your decade long friendship out the window. You hadn’t been the one who had schemed, lied, and done something that would hurt someone you loved. You were done being ashamed. You were done being embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” you told Eddie, laying your hand on his arm. “Actually, I came to Hawkins because I had to get out of my old town. My husband and my best friend were having an affair behind my back. It went on for a year and I walked in on them. I left him and we’re divorced now. But I just couldn’t stay in that town with all of those people knowing, looking at me like I was someone to be pitied. I wanted somewhere new where no one knew me or what I’d been through. So, when the job offer came around, I jumped at the chance.”

“Well, I am mighty sorry that happened to you. That’s a real shitty thing for someone to do but it sure seems like it worked out well for you,” Wayne commented with a kind smile. “And for my boy. So, as much as those two deserve to be whipped for what they did, I’m sure glad they did. I ain’t seen a smile like that on that boy’s face in far too long.”

“Damn, you really gotta just call me out like that?” Eddie huffed, shaking his head.

“Damn right, I do. You know how long I been waiting for you to be happy? Way too damn long. It does this old man’s heart good to see you like that, to know I don’t need to be worrying about you in that house all alone, cutting yourself off from the world.”

“Hawkins isn’t the world,” argued Eddie.

“It’s your world. You chose to stay here so this is your world, kid. I know you got all those friends and they’re mighty fine people. I’m so grateful you had all of them looking out for you when this town was gunning for your head. I’m more than grateful for Hop making sure all those charges were dropped, proving you were innocent. Good man. Always been a good man.”

“I had you. You were more than enough,” Eddie told him. “You’ve always been more than enough.”

“That’s mighty nice of you to say. I tried my hardest to be everything you needed but I knew I could never fill the holes left behind by your parents. I worry about you, kid. I can’t help it. Don’t matter if you’re sixteen or sixty. I am always going to worry about you. But maybe I don’t need to lose so much sleep now that you’ve got someone. Someone who will be there all the time. You planning on sticking around, sweetheart?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, squeezing Eddie’s knee, receiving a smile in return, his hand coming to cover yours. “Eddie couldn’t chase me away if he tried.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s done that already. My boy is nothing if not stubborn and self-sabotaging. Thinks he don’t deserve anything good. The truth is, he deserves everything good and more.”

Eddie flushed bright red as you agreed, saying, “He deserves the world.”

“Yeah, well I don’t need the world,” he mumbled, looking up at you from under those impossibly long lashes as he squeezed your hand, implying what he struggled to put into words.

“So, how are you at playing Rummy?” asked Wayne, rising from his seat with his plate in hand.

“Oh, I think I’m pretty good,” you told him, grinning. “My family and I used to have game nights every Thursday night. Rummy was one of our favorites and I won quite often.”

“Well now, sweetheart, those are fighting words. Eddie, go get the cards.”

“Uh-oh, you’re in for it now,” Eddie teased, lips pouting, eyebrows raising. “My uncle is a shark when it comes to Rummy. He appears to be a sweet old man but he’s got a nasty competitive streak.”

“Bring it on,” you replied with a grin.

Chapter 20

Taglist

@tlclick73@bebe07011@eddiesguitarskills@witchwolflea@nailbatanddungeon@emilyslutface@fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes@corrodedcoffincumslut@mmunson86@josephquinnsfreckles@katethetank

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maochira · 8 months

Note

idk if you’ve done this already but bllk dads staying up with their kid because reader has insomnia :)

Writing this rn because I know I’m gonna pull an all-nighter tonight 🏃‍♀️ (going on an 8 hour car ride to Italy at 3am(around the time when this posts))

Characters: Ego, Noa, Lavinho

Requests open! - masterlist

Tags: gn!reader, reader is a teenager, reader has insomnia

Ego

-does this guy ever sleep in the first place? No (I know he does. He has the type of sleep schedule where he sleeps for 4 hours, gets up, sleeps for 2 hours again, gets up again and sleeps for 2 hours another time

-but anyways the point is, even without your insomnia he’d be awake most of the night

-Ego lets you stay in his office and rewatches recordings of Blue Lock matches with you. They’re either exciting and entertain you when you can’t fall asleep, or they’re so boring you fall asleep in your chair after one or two hours. No in-between

-surprisingly, your father has enough strength in his body to carry you to your room so you can safely sleep in your bed instead of on the uncomfortable desk chair

-if you still can’t fall asleep, you and Ego also spend a lot of time talking about anything that’s on your mind. Sometimes it’s thousands of thoughts running through your head that won’t let you fall asleep, so Ego let’s you talk about what’s on your mind

-it’s also very good bonding time for the both of you. It may not be under the most optimal circumstances but hey, at least you get to spend time with your father

Noa

-he may be tired and just wants to get to bed on most nights, but he always stays awake as long as he can with you. He knows you feel lonely late at night and that can cause bad thoughts to come up in your head when you can’t fall asleep. And to prevent that, your father stays awake with you

-most nights like this are spent sitting in the living room with a random movie on the TV while you and Noa just talk and talk until you get tired

-he always makes your favourite tea, hot choccy, warm milk, or whatever other (non-caffeinated) warm beverage you’re craving

-occasionally, Noa falls asleep on the couch and you always wonder if you should wake him up or let him continue sleeping. Usually you don’t wake him up because you know how tired your father is most of the time

-but sometimes, he wakes up by himself after like 10 minutes and he keeps apologizing. He feels guilty because he doesn’t like leaving you alone when he knows negative thoughts could flood your brain at any moment

-that’s why he also made you promise to immediately wake him up whenever that happens

Lavinho

-he doesn’t mind staying up longer at all. This guy could get 5 minutes of sleep and would be as energized as he always is

-when you can’t sleep, you and your dad play video games together!! Usually competitive ones like Mario Kart but sometimes ones for which you have work together like Stardew Valley

-it’s also the perfect chance to catch up and talk about stuff when you have busy weeks during which you barely see each other during daytime

-but because of your insomnia Lavinho does forbid you to drink anything that has caffeine in it. Cola, energy drinks and coffee are completely banned from the house. Yes, he doesn’t drink it anymore either because if you can’t, he won’t either

Taglist (sign-up link): @kaineedstherapy12 @luvcalico @truegoist @st4rcheese @acacIa @kermitslefteyeball11 @futuristicxie @bluelock4life @blueberrryui @https-archangel @userwithlotsoftime @chaosinanutshell @mang05 @arxliana @zyuuuu @vanitasbrainrot @toruden @mafuyudonutt @weichspuelertrinker @depressed-bitchy-demon @kaiserkisser @yellowelectroslime @0rah-s @yerinsshi @slowlyholypeanut @isagikisser

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liaaacantwrite · 2 years

Text

Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now

Jonathan Byers x Reader (Explicit)

Summary: Jonathan really tried to keep his feelings to himself, but he’s almost reached his limit. Especially when Steve starts interfering.

warning! this fic contains pining, best friends to lovers, jealousy, very emotional sexual situations, 2 virgins going at it, oral (m and f receiving) and sub jonathan. also, this is set between season 2 and 3 but they’re both 18! :)

•••

The road had too many fucking potholes.

Jonathan tried his best to avoid them as his best friend, (Y/N), slept in the passenger seat of his car. It wasn’t easy, since the town of Hawkins clearly didn’t care about road maintenance, at least on this side of town.

“Jonathan?” She stirred in her sleep, slowing opening her eyes as she adjusted to the sunlight filling the car.

“Good morning,” he glanced over at her as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “You were out like a light.”

They’d been driving for awhile at that point, returning from a daytrip to Indianapolis to fill Jonathan’s photography portfolio. He’d snapped a few images of her, as well, and even taught her how to use the camera in order to take some shots of him.

“We walked around the city for like four hours, I was exhausted.”

“Yeah, okay. Still had to drive in silence for like two hours.”

“Literally no one made you do that.”

He didn’t have a rebuttal, so he just kept driving. She turned on his car stereo and Blondie quietly filled the car. It was music that she had gotten him into a few years ago. She hummed along to the song and he smiled to himself.

He really wasn’t sure when he’d started having feelings for his best friend. If he absolutely had to decide on a moment, it was when they were 10. She had come over, like she did almost everyday, and hung out with him and Will while Joyce was at work. They were watching some cartoon Will had picked out when she turned to Jonathan, put her hands on his face, and stared deeply into his eyes.

“I need you to promise me something.” She looked deadly serious.

“Yeah?” He pulled her hands off of his face.

“When we go into middle school next year, you can’t abandon me for anyone else. Ever.” Her eyes were misty, as this was something she’d clearly been worrying about. Her older sister had confided in her that once middle school starts, friends change and grow apart. She’s absolutely die if that happened between her and Jonathan.

“I would never do that!” He seemed almost offended at the notion.

“Promise me?”

She held out her pinky, her nails painted green. He didn’t even think as he wrapped his pinky around hers, never even doubting for a second that they would be best friends forever.

“I promise.”

Looking back, he realized that it was her fear of losing one another, a fear he also shared, that made him really begin to crush on her. He’d kept his secret for 8 years now, and he was not about to blow it anytime soon. He’d rather be with her as just friends than risk losing her completely.

“Are you hungry?” She pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” He actually wasn’t that hungry, but she wouldn’t have been asking if she wasn’t, so he decided he’d eat anyway.

“Pizza?” It was their go-to food, honestly.

“It’s like you read my mind.”

•••

Jonathan picked her up every single morning on the way to school. It brightened his morning to see her stumbling out of her house, still sleepy. He loved getting to spend extra time with her, and he would do pretty much anything for it.

One of Jonathan’s absolute favorite things about his best friend was how well she got along with Will. The three of them had grown up together, and so Will had honestly viewed her like an older sister. He’d come to her for advice pretty often, and sometimes they would hang out just the two of them. She even got along amazingly with Joyce!

“I’m just saying, you should really try it.” Will had been begging her to try playing D&D, his latest campaign needing one more party member. Max had downright refused, saying she didn’t ‘care about that nerdy shit.’

“Will, I would, but I’ve got so much schoolwork lately it’s ridiculous.” She’d joined one too many AP classes that year and was really suffering for it.

“Fine. Dustin said he would try to get Steve to join, anyway.” Will sat back in his seat, accepting her answer.

Steve was a hot topic between (Y/N) and Jonathan. She’d had a crush on the boy with amazing hair a few years prior, which had crushed Jonathan. He couldn’t help getting annoyed every time Steve was brought up, but he always made up excuses like ‘he’s just an asshole’ or ‘that guy? I bet he spends more time on his hair than he lasts in bed.’ Her crush had actually cooled down for a bit while he dated Nancy Wheeler, a good friend of hers, but ramped right back up when they split.

“Where are you guys having this campaign?” Jonathan really hoped Will would say anywhere but the Byers house.

“Our house. First part is today!”

Shit. She came over everyday to study in Jonathan’s room (and to hang out, too) so she was bound to see Steve.

Jonathan pulled in front of Hawkins Middle School, letting Will out. No one really liked for him to ride his bike anywhere after the events with Hawkins Lab.

“Be smart!” Jonathan called.

“Make good choices!” (Y/N) waved.

It was a little tradition they had with the younger Byers. They’d said it everyday when the dropped him off, much to his chagrin.

“Ugh!” He walked away.

Jonathan drove off, his mind racing with possibilities of (Y/N) and Steve together. Would he kiss her the way Jonathan wanted to? With one hand wrapped securely around her waist, the other entangled in her hair? Or would Steve have ways he hadn’t even considered?

“What’s bothering you?” Again, she pulled him out of his thoughts. He reminded himself that she was in his car right now, not Steve’s.

“Worried about that physics test.” He quickly lied. He actually was pretty worried about it, though.

“I’ll let you copy off me if you give me the English homework.” She smiled as he parked in the high school parking lot.

“Deal.” He smiled back at her. She always had a way of making him feel better.

But even as they walked through the halls, he kept thinking about Steve coming over that night. He tried to think of ways he could tell her not to come over. He couldn’t say he was feeling sick, as they were literally together all morning. He couldn’t say he didn’t want her to, as she’d see right through that. He just had to hope that Dustin wasn’t as good at convincing as Will hoped.

“—which is absolutely crazy, right? Jonathan?” He tuned back in, catching the end of what she was saying.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay today?” She put her hand to his forehead, butterflies filling his stomach.

“Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I could stay over if you want. You know my mom’s okay with it.”

Another perk of being best friends literally their entire lives—sleepovers were a regular thing. As weird as he felt about it, Jonathan liked seeing her in her pajamas, seeing her in a way no one else did. He liked having her all to himself.

He really had an issue now. She would be so suspicious if he turned down a sleepover since he’d never done that before. In fact, he was usually the one suggesting them.

“Sure, yeah. I’m gonna head off to class.” He awkwardly mumbled, shooting off in the other direction.

She stared after him, wondering what his problem was. Anxiously, she bit her lip as she ran through all the possible things in her head, walking to her class. Maybe Joyce was nagging him about his grades? But that wasn’t very likely, as Joyce didn’t care about shit like that. Was he being bullied again? He would have told her, she hoped. (Y/N) froze, her thoughts coming to a complete stop.

What if he realized she was in love with him?

That would explain why he was so awkward with her today. God! She felt her stomach tie up in knots at the thought. There was no way, she’d been so careful. She’d been distracting herself with Steve Harrington, for fuck’s sake. After all, it was much easier to pine after someone she barely knew than face rejection from her lifelong best friend.

She tried to ignore those thoughts as she went through her classes, her anxiety building as lunch approached.

Jonathan was annoyed as he walked into the cafeteria. Steve had approached him in the hall just before to make sure it was okay that he was playing with the kids and if they would like him to bring pizza. It was even more frustrating that Steve was actually a pretty cool guy.

He made his way over to (Y/N), who sat reading a book. Taking a second to admire her before he sat, he really started to get nauseous at the thought of her and Steve.

‘Maybe he could actually treat her well. Maybe she deserves someone better than me.’ He thought as he slid into the seat across from her.

They didn’t speak as they both read, sharing large a bag of potato chips. It had been that way for years, a daily tradition they wouldn’t dream of breaking. There was just something so intimate in the silence, the comfort of it all.

Jonathan wouldn’t trade moments like these for all the money in the world.

•••

Steve was annoyingly on time with 5 pizzas. Cheese, pepperoni, supreme, meat lovers, and veggie. He was also frustratingly considerate, not really knowing who ate what.

Lucas, Will, Mike, and Dustin, along with Max and Eleven, who just wanted to watch, all sat sprawled across the Byers’ living room floor. The table was all set for the campaign, but being kids, they were all starving.

Jonathan and (Y/N) were studying in his room when Max came knocking.

“Harrington’s here with pizza!” She spoke through the door.

“Thanks!” (Y/N) called, closing her textbook.

Jonathan stayed still. He really didn’t feel like watching the love of his life fawn over someone he thought was so much better than him. He couldn’t help but compare himself to Steve. Harrington was taller, richer, conventionally more attractive, more athletic. He was more popular, and definitely more experienced when it came to women. Jonathan felt as though he was less than Steve in every aspect.

“Come on, Jon.” She pulled his arm, straining to lift him off the bed. “I’m hungry.”

“Ugh.” He groaned as he stood up. “Let’s eat in here.”

“I want to talk to the kids for a bit.” She walked out of the room.

When she entered the living room, Mike and Eleven were practically sitting on top of each other on the couch. Max and Lucas were sitting at the kitchen table, laughing and making jokes with Will. Dustin sat eating on the floor with Steve.

“(Y/N)!” Dustin smiled, pointing to the pizza. “Take your pick.”

She walked over to the boxes, taking two of the untouched veggie slices.

“Perks of liking your vegetables? You get a whole pizza to yourself.” She smiled as she sat on the floor with Dustin and Steve.

“I don’t know how you eat that crap.” Dustin scoffed.

“Compared to your meat monstrosity? I feel sorry for your toilet.” She laughed and he threw a piece of sausage at her.

All the kids looked up to the cool older girl that made an effort to spend time with them and understand them. She’d had special moments with each kid, but mostly Will and Lucas.

“I don’t know, I’ve always been a plain cheese guy.” Steve spoke up, finally. He’d been a little nervous.

Truth be told, he was kind of into (Y/N). She’d saved his ass from the demodogs a few months prior and he just hasn’t been able to look at her the same. Especially now that he and Nancy had broken up.

“Because you’re boring.” Dustin had become a lot more snarky lately.

“Rude! Just because he’s boring doesn’t mean you have to say it.” She teased, knocking her knee against Steve’s.

He ran his hand through his hair, practically preening for her attention.

It made Jonathan, who was watching from the kitchen table, sick to his stomach.

“Are you ever gonna make a move, man?” Lucas rolled his eyes at his best friend’s older brother.

“What are you talking about?” Jonathan looked absolutely perplexed.

“Come on, Byers. You’re so obvious it’s making me nauseous.” Max groaned as she put her pizza slice down, dramatically crossing her arms.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He shook his head at the trio of annoyed children.

“Your crush on (Y/N).” Will quietly spoke.

Jonathan shushed him anyway.

“You guys are crazy.” He stood, retreating to his room.

He wondered if he was actually that obvious as he slumped back onto his headboard. Grabbing his history homework, he tried to immerse himself in the assignment.

After about 10 minutes, (Y/N) entered his room.

“Hope you didn’t miss me too much” She grinned as she flopped on her stomach next to him on the bed.

“I almost died waiting for you.” He not-so-sarcastically replied.

“I’m here now. What’s going on in that big dumb head of yours?” She stared at him, head propped up by her palms.

“Nothing. Why do you keep asking me that today?” He shyer away under her gaze.

“Because you’re acting all weird. I’m allowed to be concerned about you.”

“Stop. I’m fine.” He didn’t look up from his homework.

She grabbed it from his lap, placing the paper on the floor.

“Jonathan. Talk to me.” She looked at him sternly.

He sighed, putting his head in his hands. She really was persistent.

“I wish you would just drop it.” His voice was muffled.

“Well, tough shit, Byers. I’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me.”

He peeked out from behind his hands. Her eyes poured into his, full of concern. She looked absolutely gorgeous.

“Can you just drop it? I’ll tell you when everyone leaves, okay?” That would give him enough time to come up with something, right?

“Fine, but the second that door closes, you’re gonna spill.” She smiled and rolled onto her back, closing her eyes.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

•••

(Y/N) had wandered into the kitchen a while later, fetching a glass of water, when Steve popped up behind her.

“Hey, there.” He smiled, slightly posing with his hands on his hips.

“Hey. How’s the campaign going?” She took a sip from her glass.

“Well, I made a character and Will explained the basics of the game. That took like, an hour and a half. And now we’re setting up the actual world. That took another half an hour. So, pretty great?” He looked so confused, but he was really trying for these kids.

“I’m sure they really appreciate you trying, Steve. I know I certainly do.” She smiled ever so softly at him, the small action giving him heart palpitations.

“Listen, you need a ride home? I can take you. Maybe stop for a sundae or something?” He looked hopeful.

“Sorry, I’m staying the night. I really appreciate your offer, though!” She turned and walked out of the kitchen, feeling slightly guilty.

Steve Harrington had just asked her out and she turned him down.

She stepped into the bathroom, heart beating fast. As she stared at her reflection, she had a few realizations.

1) She would never be able to go out with someone while she had such strong feelings for Jonathan.

2) If Jonathan truly didn’t like her, she needed to get over him and put herself out there, and who could be better than Steve?

3) She needed to find out Jonathan’s feelings. Tonight.

She gently splashed some water in her face and tried to muster up some confidence as she concocted a plan. She’d listen to what was bothering Jonathan so terribly and then confess to her own bothersome issue. He’d be so willing to help, and she’d say outright ‘I’ve developed romantic feelings for you and I need to know if you feel the same.’

Easier said than done.

•••

Dread filled the older Byers boy as the kids all filed out of the house. Steve had decided to drive them all home since it was so late and it had begun raining, and they could come fetch their bikes later. Even annoyed with him, Jonathan had to admit Steve was pretty cool.

“Go to bed, dork.” (Y/N) was talking to Will, who was trying to help her clean up all of the pizza. “I’ve got this.”

“Okay. Goodnight, guys.” Will yawned as he wandered into the bathroom.

“What time is Joyce getting home?” She placed the pizza into tupperware, discarding the boxes into the trash.

“I think she’s working a double, so probably around 3AM?”

She nodded and he began helping her clean up after the kids. Soda cans, napkins, and paper plates were cleaned up slowly, Jonathan trying to extend the time as much as possible.

He still hasn’t come up with a good enough excuse.

“I’m going to change and then I want to hear all about what’s bothering you.” She walked past, heading into his room.

He had a drawer of her clothes, and she had one of his at her house. They were so entangled in each other’s lives that she began to second guess her plan. What would she do everyday without Jonathan? He drove her to school, drove her home, sat with her at lunch, stayed up all night talking to her. He was such a major part of her life that she really couldn’t picture what life would be like without him.

She pulled on her pajamas, some old sweatpants and a t-shirt, and opened the door. Jonathan was standing on the other side.

They followed their usual sleepover routine, him closing the door and changing while she went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth. She stared at her reflection again, scrutinizing her appearance. She was typically so confident, but so close to making a life-altering confession, she felt so undeserving of the love she was about to beg for.

‘Get it together!’ She internally battled with herself. ‘This is Jonathan you’re worried about. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.’

She took a few deep breaths, tucked her hair into a slightly more suitable fashion, and walked out of the bathroom.

“Okay, Jon. Spill.” She closed his bedroom door behind her, moving to sit on the bed next to him.

He hadn’t been this anxious in a while. Everything had paled in comparison to Will going missing, and while this wasn’t nearly as encompassing as that had been, he was still on the verge of a life-changing moment.

He had finally decided on just being honest. He couldn’t lie to her, and honestly he was dying to tell her his big secret anyway.

“Look, it’s embarrassing.” He tried one last time to get her to stop.

“More embarrassing than the time you pissed yourself in my bed?”

He blushed at the memory. He’d been around 8 at the time and he was dealing with a lot of nightmares about his father. Unfortunately, one was just so terrible that it caused him to have an accident in her bed.

“Oh, god. Stop bringing that up.” He covered his face with his hands in shame.

She grabbed his wrists, gently pulling them away from the face she adored so much.

“You can tell me, Jonathan. There’s absolutely nothing you could tell me that I wouldn’t accept you for.”

He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he made eye contact with her.

Memories of their years together flashed through his mind. Swimming at the local pool together, going to the movies with Will, sharing an ice cream cone when they could only afford one, dancing along to Blondie in the car, countless nights in each other’s rooms, holding each other as they cried when they believed Will was dead, and fighting literal monsters from another dimension.

They’d been together through everything.

“I don’t know how to say it, but just let me talk and don’t interrupt me, okay?” He avoided eye contact, opting instead to stare at his lap.

She nodded, signaling for him to go on.

“I really like you. And obviously you know that, you’re my best friend in the entire world, but it’s more than that. I like you, and it’s for a million reasons. It’s the way you’re always there for me, even in the worst moments of my life. It’s the way you just understand me, and how I never have to explain myself around you. The way you snore, even though you swear you don’t, and it keeps me up at night but I don’t even mind because it’s you who’s doing it. It’s the way you laugh, and how I can be having the worst day, but you make me laugh, too. It’s how you laugh at your own jokes harder than anyone else does, even when they aren’t that funny. How you’re so unbelievably smart and kind and interesting. It’s not just because I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, and it’s not just because I’ve known you since kindergarten. I’m not saying this because I expect you to like me back or whatever, this has just been building for so long, and I think I might have exploded if I didn’t say something.”

The silence that followed was earth-shatteringly loud. His thoughts ran a million miles a minute as he waited for her response, too anxious to risk glancing up at her.

If he had, he would have seen the tears looking in her eyes and the saccharine grin on her face as she tried to think of a response as poetic and sweet as the confession he just gave her.

“Jonathan—”

“Don’t feel like you have to say it back. I was just—”

“Jonathan.”

He finally, finally looked up at her, and he saw the pure joy etched onto her face.

“I really like you, too.” She grabbed his hand and he felt relief flood his veins.

“No way. You’re not fucking with me?” He couldn’t help but doubt her, as this would be the best thing to happen in his life if she was serious.

“Not at all. Can I ask you a question, though?” She inched slightly closer to him.

“Anything in the entire world.”

“How long?”

“Since we were 10.”

Nothing on the planet could have wiped the smile off her face. A demogorgon could walk in at that exact moment and she would tell it that her best friend was in love with her.

“You win. I think I was like 14 when I realized. You started keeping pads in your locker just for me and I knew that no one else would ever compare.”

He felt like he was floating. He honestly hadn’t expected things to work out in his favor. A large part of him had figured she would demand to be driven home and never want to speak to him again.

“Can I ask you one more question?” She looked down now, seemingly shy.

“Of course.”

“Can I kiss you?” She looked into his eyes now, a glint of something he had never seen before lurking.

He nodded eagerly, his hands coming to rest on either side of her face as she mirrored his actions.

They leaned in synchronously and if Jonathan thought he was overjoyed before, his heart almost burst as their lips met. Soft, tender, and eager, their kiss was passionately sweet. It was years of love finally coming to fruition, both lovers tasting like toothpaste. She slid one of her hands into the hair just above his neck and his mind went completely blank.

Although he could feel his need for air growing, he didn’t want to part from her mouth for even a second. Luckily, she valued air slightly more than Jonathan’s lips and pulled apart for the both of them.

“Is this a weird time to ask if you want to be my girlfriend?” He let out a soft laugh as she shook her head.

“Not weird at all. I was just about to ask you the same thing.” She played with his hair, running her fingers through the strands as their foreheads rested against each other.

“If I wanna be your girlfriend?”

She giggled and nodded.

“This is not how I pictured this night going.” She leaned back in to kiss her new boyfriend.

The angled was slightly awkward, his legs hanging off the side of his bed as she sat cross legged facing him, so she moved to straddle his lap. He gasped at the new position they were kissing in, something he hadn’t expected in the least.

“Is this okay?” She asked, concerned she had crossed a boundary.

“More than okay. God, this is like a dream come true.”

He softly pulled her face back to his and kissed her cheek, beginning a trail down her jaw. One arm wrapped firmly around her waist and he settled in a malleable spot on her neck, kissing and lightly sucking as her mouth hung open above him. She whimpered slightly, only egging him on.

“Jonathan!” She moaned, arching her back into his touch.

He’d never heard something as beautiful as the way she said his name, her voice full of need.

As he moved back to kiss her mouth, neither of them could really say how long they’d been making out for. The storm raged on outside as they continued to explore this new element of each other.

Spurred on by lust, (Y/N) gently rocked her hips against Jonathan’s, the untold amount of kissing igniting primal reactions.

He stilled, growing hard and embarrassed as she pulled away from his mouth.

“Sorry! I don’t know why I did that.” She rested her head in the crook of his neck.

“No, no. It’s fine, just…unexpected.” He ran the hand that wasn’t holding her pressed to him through her hair now. “It was pretty hot.”

Her cheeks grew hot as she took in what he said. Hot? She could definitely work with that.

Bringing her face back to his, she paused just before connecting their lips. Rolling her hips once more, she relished in the soft groan Jonathan let out.

“I like that sound.”

She pressed her lips to his, continuing the movement of her pelvis against his. He could feel himself growing harder at each rock, the pleasure shooting through him. He’d never felt anything down there besides his own hand, so this was completely new to him.

“(Y/N), please.” He wasn’t sure what he was pleading for, but he just felt so damn good under her that he would take anything she gave him.

She grinned into their heated kiss, pushing him onto his back as she continued to grind into him.

They stayed like this for awhile until Jonathan ever so gently pulled away.

“Jonathan, I really want to fuck you right now.”

He could’ve sworn he heard her wrong. He was already lucky enough, kissing her and finally being her boyfriend after all these years. Now she wanted to have sex? With him?

“Is that okay?” She was anxious that she’d crossed a line now, that he wouldn’t want her anymore.

“Is that…yeah. Yeah, I want to fuck you too.” The words were choked out, his head spinning.

“Okay. That’s gonna be tricky with all these clothes on.”

She reached down to the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it off as he sat up slightly to assist her. This was the first time she felt she could really admire him shirtless as he laid bare in front of her.

Jonathan had always felt like he was way too scrawny. He’d shied away from the mirror every time he found himself in front of it, but here? Now? With her looking at his chest like that, with so much love and lust in her eyes, he felt beautiful.

He shyly placed his fingers just under the hemline of her shirt, not daring to actually take it off. She giggled at this, and actually removed the shirt.

Since she was planning on going to sleep, she obviously hadn’t been wearing a bra. Jonathan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he realized her breasts were right there, fully exposed to him.

“Holy shit.” He breathed, admiring them.

“You can touch me.” She smiled, grabbing his hand and bringing it to her chest.

He might have sound a bit perverted, but he had been dreaming about this moment since he first started having sexual feelings. He massaged her gently, the flesh between his fingers much softer than he had ever imagined.

In an act of boldness that he didn’t know he possessed, he sat up, using this new angle to latch onto her nipple. She gasped, both out of shock and arousal, and ran her fingers through his hair.

Emboldened by her sounds, he brought his hand to her other nipple and began to play with it, the action slightly clumsy but overall pleasant. She moaned above him and reached down to undo the tie on his sweatpants.

“Off.” She ordered, causing him to lift his hips as she pulled them off of him.

She noticed how his dick strained against his boxers, a small stain of his arousal forming. It just turned her on more as she stood to slide her own pants off.

He took this moment to admire her naked, something he had never seen before. The curve of her hips, the round of her stomach, the indent of her waist, the stretch marks that expanded all over. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful.

“Jesus, (Y/N). You’re the most gorgeous girl in the entire world.”

She grew more confident with his words, twirling around for him. He felt like the luckiest guy in history to be here with her in this moment.

She crawled back over him, grinning when his hands flew down to the swell of her ass.

“Do you have a condom?” She cocked her head to the side.

He immediately groaned in shame, knowing he didn’t have one, as he’d never needed one before this very moment.

“No.” He began to detach himself from her until she shook her head and moved his hands back to where they were.

“There’s stuff other than penetrative sex, y’know.”

He nodded, bringing her mouth back to his. Even with the prospect of oral sex looming, he just wanted to kiss her until his lips hurt. Even then, he’d probably still want more.

She sat on top of him, straddling his hips in nothing but her underwear. Warmth radiated from both of them as she pulled away from the kiss to look into his eyes.

“Can I just say that this might be the happiest I’ve ever been?” She placed a loud, comical kiss on his cheek.

“I know for a fact that this is the best moment of my life.” He was breathless as he held her tighter.

“I know a way to make it better.”

His feet were still planted on the floor as he sat horizontally on his bed. This position made it much easier for her to slide onto the floor between his legs, her hands coming to rest on his thighs.

“What are you doing?” He sat up halfway, resting his weight on his elbows.

“Showing you my appreciation.”

A soft, surprised exhale left his lips as she kissed him over his underwear. It was a foreign sensation that he never knew he needed so badly.

“Appreciation for what?”

The mischievous smile she wore faded slightly as she began to look very serious.

“Always being there for me. Loving me for all these years, caring about me. I never figured you’d care for me like this,” she rubbed her hand slowly over his dick, making him close his eyes in pleasure. “And now that I know it’s mutual, I wanna treat you right.”

He just nodded, her hand still moving. He wished he could have some sweet reply, but her hand just felt so good that it was all he could register. She brought her fingers to the elastic band of his underwear and leisurely brought the fabric down.

“You’ve been hiding this from me for years?!” Her eyes widened at the sight of him, much larger than she had anticipated.

He was confused. He didn’t think he was really that big, honestly. He’s definitely seen bigger in the boy’s locker rooms at school, but hearing her reaction really stroked his minuscule ego.

(Y/N), on the other hand, was clenching her thighs together at the cock she now held in her hand. It was a little above average but she’d never seen one in person anyway, and it certainly looked like it would still hurt going in. She brought her mouth to it, placing a soft kiss to the pink tip, and began swirling her tongue around as she placed him in her mouth. He groaned again as she began to bob her head, sucking slightly.

He tasted salty as she continued and he couldn’t believe how amazing her mouth felt. Her mouth, that constantly called him a dumbass, was enveloped around him. His dick was hitting the back of her throat.

She was fucking blowing him.

“Oh, god, (Y/N).” If just her mouth felt this good, would he actually ascend to heaven when he fucked her?

“So pretty.” His hands gripped the comforter below him and he tried to keep his eyes open, tried to cement the sight of her on her knees for him to memory.

She kept moving her head, sucking and licking, while her hand worked to please him when she couldn’t reach the base of his cock.

“I’m really close.” He murmured, voice dripping with lust. He was practically whining.

“Come in my mouth.” She pulled off of him for a moment to speak, and then continued pleasing him.

Just the thought of her swallowing his seed, the lewdness of it all combined with the fact that the love of his life was giving him a mind blowing blowjob, sent him over the edge. He clapped a hand over his mouth as he came, stifling his moans as she swallowed around him.

As she clambered back onto the bed, Jonathan tried to remember the article he’d seen a few years ago about giving a woman head. He could remember a few key points, like focusing in the clitoris and how to find the g-spot, but there was so real explanation of how to ask.

“(Y/N), I really want to…uh…” He felt so stupid as he pulled at the band of her underwear.

“You tired?”

“No, I want to…eat you.”

“Eat me?!”

“Eat you out!”

Her already soaked underwear stood no chance now as she laid back on his bed, on her best friend’s boyfriend’s bed and spread her legs. He settled himself between them and kissed the inside of her thigh as she ran her fingers through his hair again.

“You ever done any of this before?” She looked down at him, already knowing the answer.

“You were my first kiss tonight.” He blushed as he buried himself in the crease where her pelvis met her leg.

“Oh, god. That’s really hot.”

Fingers coming to wrap around the fabric, he readied himself to actually see her most vulnerable parts. This was a hard line they were crossing and he couldn’t be happier.

Thunder rumbled loudly as he pressed a tentative, unsure kiss to her core. She giggled and he used his fingers to spread her labia as he looked for the little bundle of nerves that was soon to become his buddy. Finding it, he used his thumb and began to rub circles around it, knowing he succeeded as she squirmed under him in pleasure.

“That feels good.” She usually just played with herself, as no one had ever gone down on her before. It was a lot better when someone else was doing it.

He continued his movements, licking a stripe up her love box and truly beginning to eat her out. He was pretty eager for his first time, literally tongue fucking her as his thumb continued it’s grueling pattern of circles on her clit. Her hips rolled against his face, slightly skewing his rhythm, so he wrapped his arms around her thighs, pulling her legs onto his shoulders. This leverage really worked for him, his tongue travelling deeper as she melted into a puddle under him.

Her hands never left his hair, pulling wildly as she crumbled underneath him. She tried to keep quiet, as Will was sleeping in the next room, but Jonathan felt so good that she had to bite her lip to keep it down. Looking down at her new lover, she couldn’t hold back the moan that left her lips when he looked into her eyes.

“Jonathan, I’m really close.” She whispered, her voice absolutely sinful.

“Come in my mouth.” He repeated back to her, speeding up his thumb.

She had to pull one of his pillows over her face as she came, unable to keep quiet from the pure pleasure he’d given her. They were both lightheaded as he pulled away from her legs, climbing up to cuddle her.

“I know you have to go pee so you don’t get a UTI, but can I just hold you for a minute?” He wrapped an arm around her waist, still shocked at the entire night.

“Yeah. This was really fucking fun, by the way.” She turned to face him, her hands on his cheeks.

“We should do this more often.” He placed a sweet and quick kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Okay. But I really have to piss, Byers.”

He watched as she pulled on his pajamas and left the room.

•••

The next morning, Joyce woke up to the usual routine. Jonathan cooking breakfast while Will and (Y/N) sat at the breakfast table doing some last minute homework.

“You guys, I can’t find my keys.” She was bustling around the house looking for them when (Y/N) held them out in her hand.

“They were in the pantry.” She smiled at Joyce, who just hugged her in return.

“Are those Jonathan’s pajamas?” She pulled away and looked between the two nervous seniors.

“Uh, yes. They are.” She nodded nervously.

“We’re together now, Mom.” Jonathan turned away from the stove to look at his mother.

“About time! I was wondering how many night shifts I needed to work before you guys talked about your feelings.” She laughed and kissed Will’s head as she left for work.

The three of them looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Jonathan couldn’t have been luckier.

#jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #charlie heaton #jonathan byers smut

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 5 months

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to ashes, in memoriam

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Summary: the third anniversary of the snap thaws some of the tension between the two of you.

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,570

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Days Since the Decimation: Three Years

Springtime in London might have been lovely, had it not been for the blanket of solemnity hanging over every square mile of the city. The third anniversary of the Decimation had been looming over you, over everyone, for weeks now. And now that it had arrived… you had spent much of the day locked away in your room, hoping to simply sleep through it.

Clint had stayed, and the two of you had returned to old routines, making your way west until you’d finally found yourselves on the outskirts of London. If possible, the two of you communicated even less than before, and you found yourself avoiding him just to make it easier to ignore the tension between you. The longer it went on, the more frustrated with your situation you became. Much of your time seemed now to be spent expelling the energy building inside you.

So, when Clint knocked on the door to the room you had claimed when you’d found yourselves an apartment on the outskirts of the city in a building too rundown for the city to relocate locals into, you were surprised. You sat up in the bed, pushing hair out of your eyes.

“Come in?”

“Hey,” he said gruffly, averting his eyes as if you were in some way indecent. It was almost normal to you now; you swore the only time you ever really felt his eyes on you was when yours were turned away. “Did I wake you?”

You shook your head; you’d been laying there for the last two hours, staring out the window at nothing but the sliver of sky you could see between the curtains. But that didn’t feel like something worth mentioning. “What’s up?”

“Get dressed. We’re going out.”

You frowned, pushing the blankets off of your legs. “You’ve got a target?”

“It’s not work,” he replied, his tone unchanging. “Civilian clothes.”

“…Okay.” you said, confusion furrowing your brow. “Okay, just, uh… Just give me five minutes.”

***

Hyde Park was crowded, throngs of people choking the pathways that led to the lake. Lingering in any one place with this many people made you feel exposed in a way that you’d come to loathe over the last three years, and you tugged the baseball cap you wore a little lower on your brow.

“What are we doing here?” you asked quietly.

Clint shrugged a shoulder as though his leading you out that evening had been no more than a whim. But despite his reluctance to talk, to even spend time with you outside of a hunt, this was where he’d brought you. “It’s a memorial.”

Daylight was beginning to ebb as you approached Serpentine Lake, and the lights that marked the edges of the path the two of you were following were starting to glow against the soft light of dusk. The crowds around you collected in smaller parties, and the atmosphere that hung like a mist around the park kept their tones hushed. Reverent. The result was an almost hypnotic hum, and you found yourself stepping closer to Clint’s side at the noise.

He didn’t move away.

You didn’t understand quite what he meant until you finally reached the Lake proper. And your breath hitched.

Countless lights bobbed along the surface of the lake, slowly moving in and out of view between the bodies lining the shore. Each light was carried by a delicate paper lantern, the underside waxed against the water. As you drew closer, you could just make out the lines marking the sides of the lanterns still in the hands of the people ahead of you; the names of those they had lost.

“Clint…”

He didn’t say anything; and you didn’t know how you were supposed to finish that sentence. Booths had been set up about thirty feet back from the shoreline, and you followed Clint wordlessly towards one of them. The table was carefully piled with paper lanterns and tealights, and after collecting two of each from a kind-faced woman, he led you to an unoccupied patch on the shore.

The sound of water shifting joined the soundscape around you, the scent of it at the edge of your mind. Clint knelt down on the grass, handing you one of the lanterns and a marker. You paused after taking them, running your fingertips over the dense paper before you joined him.

You wrote their names slowly, carefully, turning the lantern so the letters formed a morbid crown around its head.

Wanda… Sam… Bucky… Vision… Hill… Fury… Peter… T’Challa… Shuri…

You hesitated for a long moment before following their names with two more words.

I’m sorry.

***

The crowds grew so slowly and steadily around you that you barely noticed it before you stood and found yourself surrounded by bodies. Clint’s arm brushed against yours as he straightened too, the two of you holding your lanterns carefully before you. Your fingers tightened briefly on yours as though it would be ripped from your hands; wax slid under your nails.

Your eyes dropped to the near-identical lantern in Clint’s hands. His thumb stroked over the rigid paper almost idly, and you turned away again before your eyes could focus on the words that he had written on the side of it. Instead, you shouldered your way through the people crowding the shoreline until the toes of your boots were kissed by the soft ebb and flow of the water.

Once again you felt Clint’s presence by your shoulder, and you resisted the urge to lean back into the warmth of him. Instead, you turned to face him, swallowing as you took his lantern gingerly. You held them steady, your eyes meeting his in brief, flickering moments as he lit the candles within.

And the two of you set the lanterns down on the water, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as they ever so slowly bobbed out to join the others to reflect golden light on the mirror’s surface.

***

It wasn’t long, despite your best effort, before you lost sight of which lanterns were yours, eyes blurring with the pinpricks of light in front of you. Clint still stood by your side, and the more time stretched out before you the more the sounds of murmured conversation and the acoustic guitar someone played nearby fell away. It all fell away until all that anchored you to reality, to that spot you stood on, was the soft sound of Clint’s steady, calming breath.

The crowd moved around you in the same kind of slow ebb and flow as the water; the two of you standing sentinel on the edge of the lake. The sky darkened above you, and the lights on the lake warmed as the water turned to ink. Someone was speaking over a microphone, a grave voice intoning a eulogy to everyone that had been lost.

What you noticed of the speaker’s words soon turned to messages of hope and ‘togetherness in the face of adversity’, and Clint’s own voice broke you out of your revery.

“Hey,” he said softly, his hand touching the middle of your back. “Come with me.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself as he led you away from the bulk of the crowd. You found yourself needing to fill the silence that hung between you, and you spoke quietly. “How did you hear about all this?”

“There was something on the news,” he replied, an almost forced casualness to his tone. “I thought… I thought this might be good for you.”

You raised a brow in touched disbelief at his concern, a small, snide smile blooming at the corner of your lips. “Just me, huh?”

You saw his own smirk flash over his features beneath his hood despite himself, but he didn’t reply.

“Thank you, Clint.”

He nodded; his eyes still turned ahead of you. A part of you wondered what if would take for him to meet your eye again. He’d shaved, for the first time in weeks, and you cursed yourself silently even as you considered briefly what it would be like to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips.

A shoulder knocked into yours – a passerby unaware of either of your identities – and you stumbled slightly. It was only for a second, but it was enough to separate the two of you for a brief moment. And you looked down in surprise as Clint turned back towards you and caught hold of your hand with his own.

You watched his hand slip around to take yours, his fingers lacing with your own. His palm was warm and softer than you remembered. He tugged you back into step beside him gently, and something selfish in your chest flipped when he didn’t immediately let go.

***

Clint led you to the bridge that overlooked Serpentine Lake, tucking his hands into his pockets as you stood against the rails. He’d later, when he’d heard your breath shudder, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you in against his side. You hadn’t questioned the change in his demeanor – the anniversary had granted the two of you a brief reprieve in his staunch avoidance of you – you’d just let your head rest against his shoulder.

It was hours before you left that spot, long after the last mourners had gone, and after the very last candle had gone out.

tags:@trekkingaroundasgard@lovely-dreamer19@wittyforachange@wefracturedmotivation@january-echoes@glossyloner@capitalnineteen@youclickedthislink@s0ftness@castieltrash1@drakelover78@queenoftheunderdark@lol-you-thought@akumune@xxboesefrauxx@enna-core@hearmyharmony@katsies@youralphawolf72@maenji@rhymesmenagerie@gwianasky@melaclintbartoncorner@loki-is-loved@whovianayesha @bradfordbantams @alice-the-nerd@fanofallthefics@ace-fandom-dumbass@kaelyn-lobrutto24@twsssmlmaa@earth-pig-fish@meeksmusic83@hallothankmas@justanothermagicalsara@janineb86@darsynia@rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93

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stargazer-sims · 2 months

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OC Questions Tag

Oh, this is a good one! Thanks for the tag @honeybeenrw !

I'm going to do Nikolai (green) and Mishka (blue), since they had a little photo shoot together this weekend and are feeling more inseparable than usual. 😉

Mishka & Nikolai

__________

NAME: Mikhail Petrovich Vasiliev

NICKNAME: Mishka (only for family and close friends)

GENDER: male

STAR SIGN: Aquarius (10 February)

HEIGHT: 196cm

ORIENTATION: bisexual

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Russian / white

FAVOURITE FRUIT: apple

FAVOURITE SEASON: summer

FAVOURITE FLOWER: white clover, roses

FAVOURITE SCENT: freshly-cut grass

COFFEE, TEA, or HOT CHOCOLATE: coffee is his hot drink of choice, but he likes both tea and hot chocolate as well.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: 8 hours is his average, but don’t underestimate Mishka’s ability to sleep. Left unsupervised or without setting an alarm, he can sleep for 10-11 hours.

DOGS or CATS: If he had to choose between only those two, it’d be cats. But Mishka is an animal lover and has an affinity for most creatures.

DREAM TRIP: He’d want to go to Chestnut Ridge because he’s fascinated by the desert and he loves to ride.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: Usually just one. He doesn’t tend to get cold easily.

RANDOM FACT: He has a terrible sense of direction and has extreme anxiety about getting lost anywhere. This is the reason he doesn’t like going to new places by himself. His anxiety about his poor sense of direction makes his ability to navigate even worse, and he’s occasionally been known to full-on panic and even cry during a panic attack when he gets mixed up and finds himself somewhere he didn’t intend to be or can’t find his way back. A situation like this is actually how he and Nikolai met.

__________

NAME: Nikolai Mikhailovich Pavlenko

NICKNAME: Kolya (only for family and close friends); Nik (only for close English-speaking friends)

GENDER: male

STAR SIGN: Sagittarius (18 December)

HEIGHT: 173cm

ORIENTATION: bisexual

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: first-generation Canadian (his parents are Russian-Canadians) / white

FAVOURITE FRUIT: blueberries

FAVOURITE SEASON: autumn and winter

FAVOURITE FLOWER: chrysanthemums

FAVOURITE SCENT: peppermint

COFFEE, TEA, or HOT CHOCOLATE: His preference is coffee, but he also likes tea. He’s not a fan of chocolate in general.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: He usually gets between 6.5 and 7 hours of sleep a night

DOGS or CATS: He likes most animals but definitely considers himself a cat person.

DREAM TRIP: Nikolai doesn’t like to travel. If he can’t get there by car or bicycle in less than two hours, he’d rather not go. His “dream trip” is just getting far enough away to say he’s out of town, and going camping with Mishka.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: Usually only one. Mishka is very cuddly in bed and keeps him sufficiently warm. He might use a second blanket if he were sleeping alone.

RANDOM FACT: He’s gifted when it comes to languages. He’s fluent in three languages; Russian, English and French. He also has functional Korean, which he learned from his student Eden’s family, and basic Japanese, which he learned while living in Japan with Eden for nearly a year.

—————

I’ll tag @changingplumbob @ljfoxie @igotsnothing @akitasimblr @holocene-sims @dandylion240 @papermint-airplane and @honeyjars-sims

Feel free to ignore if you’ve already done it or don’t want to. (Also, I don’t mind being tagged more than once 😆)

#sapphire answers #oc asks #Mishka Vasiliev #nikolai pavlenko #stargazersims

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stevetonyisendgame · 11 months

Text

It’s the fourth day of work reveals for A Second Chance: A Steve/Tony Endgame Mini-Exchange and we have 8 fics and 2 artworks today!

Thank you to all participants - we’re so excited to share all these beautiful gifts with you! Enjoy and remember to leave kudos/comments for our hardworking creators to show your appreciation!! ❤️

A reminder to our dear creators that you can change the publication date of your works now that they have been revealed, so that they appear on the first page of the tags!

1. the orchid deciding to bloom again for Impala_Chick | FIC - 2.2k, T

Tony suspects Steve's being unfaithful and hires a private eye to investigate. She finds that Steve and Natasha have been spending a lot of quality time together. But all isn't what it seems.

2. A Better Name Than BARF for suchmadnesss | ART - G

So the prompt was a sentient AI post-endgame! I just thought it'd be cute if Steve came downstairs to clean up some things and found that Tony left him an AI for the lab. In this AU I also maybe decided they were married and Tony had built a couch in the corner for Steve to sit and do things while he worked. The real Tony (with a fully-iron arm) will probably come join them later.

3. Forgive The Winters, Keep No Records for XtaticPearl | FIC - 8.8k, T

Tony recovers from his twenty-three days in space. Guess who volunteers to help him through it?

4. What We Are Now for Carsonian | FIC - 2.7k, T

After the Battle of Earth, Steve and Tony find each other, but there are some bumps in the road as Tony adjusts to life.

5. In Your Golden Hour for AvengersNewB | FIC - 1.4k, T

Steve always thought that watching somebody while they slept was weird. It wasn’t a bad thing, it was just… maybe he’d never had a chance to equate it to something good. But then he fell into bed with Tony, one random night months after the Battle of New York, when riding his motorbike along the Eastern Seaboard became droll and the offer of a Manhattan skyline became more appealing. Suddenly, he didn’t think watching somebody sleep was all that weird anymore.

6. And you’ll see me waiting for you. for alexcat | ART - T

Tony Stark aka Iron Man is dead. Everyone is grieving in their own way, including Steve. But is he truly dead?

7. small comforts for earliebirb | FIC - 1.3k, G

“How’d you get so good at this?” Tony asked one morning, looking up from what was easily the best challah french toast (with fresh strawberries, no less) he’d ever had. Steve shot him a crooked smile as he shrugged modestly. “Practice, I guess? It's been almost two months now, guess I was bound to get better eventually.” There was a smudge of red at the corner of his mouth, and Tony really deserved a medal for not leaning over and wiping it away. “You’ve always been good, Rogers,” is what he said instead, and smiled when Steve flushed a pleased shade of pink. After the snap, Steve stays with Tony at the lake house while he recovers. They quickly fall into a comfortable, domestic routine as they find a balance together. Or, five moments that made Tony fall (more) in love with Steve

8. Quick Thinking and a Dash of Luck for derelover | FIC - 6.6k, T

It only takes a number of missteps for Steve and Tony to be caught during the Time Heist. And merely a few misunderstandings to make things get incredibly messy between them.

9. With an Unselfish Love for derelover | FIC - 2.2k, T

The night before the time heist, Tony seeks Steve out.

10. submerge me in your will for meidui | FIC - 3.5k, G

“Hey,” Tony says. Steve’s heart thunders in his chest, his hands twitch by his side and he folds them under his chest to keep them from doing something stupid. They just look at each other for a moment. Tony registers the signs of age around Steve’s eyes, the glimpses of silver in the pale blonde of Steve’s hair. Steve takes in the pinked scar curving around Tony’s eye and jaw, and his prosthetic arm. Steve feels like he’s a second away from breaking apart after months of clinging onto the pieces of himself. “Hey,” he replies, instead of all the other things he wants to say.

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #steve x tony #steve rogers x tony stark #endgame event #announcement #endgame event reveals day 4

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the1975attheirverybest · 1 year

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what do you think matty would do for a girlfriend who is slammed busy at work, and couldn’t be with him while he’s out on tour

*cracks knuckles* *takes several deep breaths* ahhhh. I have been preparing for the universe to send me this question…bless you, anon.

I think, based on Roadkill and If You’re Too Shy, that being apart from his girlfriend, is one of only a handful of things that Matty hates about his job. Like, it really weighs on him. The days leading up to leaving for tour, he gets really clingy and extra soft with her. And, he’ll randomly be kissing her or cuddling with her and say shit like “gonna miss your hair. Smells so good.” And some sappy shit like that. He’ll insist she drive him to the airport, and if she absolutely can’t, cuz like, it’s a weekday during work hours or something, he’ll go to work with her and hang out until the absolute last second. He’ll have the car come pick him up from there instead of home.

The first few days on tour are the hardest. Especially if he’d been on break for a while. Like, you know how between the UK tour and now, they had like 6 weeks off? Like not just a week or a few days. He’d actually kinda gotten used to being with her all the time, and waking up every morning to her alarm, watching her get dressed and ready for work. Making coffee and chatting about their days, etc. so, when he first leaves, he’s inconsolable. Not only is it disorienting to have to go from that stability and domesticity of everyday life to, like, every day you’re in a different hotel room, in a different city/ country. But she’s his person! And he doesn’t have her anymore! I imagine he would text her a lotttt. Sometimes even forgetting the time differences and stuff. He’ll be like “I got this lunch and it was shit” and it’s like 3 am where she is. And he’ll watch his phone and wonder why she’s not answering. Then he’ll remember she’s asleep. Or she’s at a meeting at work because it’s like 10 am back home and it’s a fucking Monday and she’s at her job. So he’ll get sad.

He DEF FaceTimes her from backstage. Like a lot. I imagine it looks a little something like this. With the guys popping in and out of frame and saying hi and messing about. And just when he thinks the worst part of it is over, and he’s kind of gotten into the rhythm of tour and doesn’t feel too bad anymore. On a random day, like, 8 weeks into traveling the world, he’ll start to miss her so much and lose his shit. Texting and trying to coordinate a time to FaceTime, find Wi-Fi, make sure the time zones align, and everything starts to piss him off. He just wants her. He misses being able to see her. Be in the same room together. Experience things in real time and not have to send her a video of George saying something funny because she’s right there with him and can erupt into laughter right when it happens. He misses being able to cuddle her in his sleep. Misses how annoying cold she always gets at night. Misses her indecisiveness about food and where she wants to go for dinner. So he gets really in his own head and starts to get short with her. With these vague texts and passive aggressive replies. And she doesn’t know why. And he’s getting really mad that he can’t be there for her and support her while she’s having a tough week at work, or like, bring her lunch at work because she’s been killing herself on deadline or something. So he’s in a really bad mood for days on end. They end up fighting on the phone. The connection is shitty and he can’t hear her anyway. And he’s sick of his most intimate moments being mediated through a device. and he’s suddenly finding phone sex to be perverse and gross and sick and exploitative. And every time she makes an effort to do like a FaceTime dinner date or something, he just says no.

Then he feels like a complete asshole because he knows they’re both just doing their absolute best in a difficult situation. So he needs to make it up to her. He’ll start randomly delivering coffee to her in the morning. Like, you know how Uber Eats has a thing where certain restaurants will allow you to schedule a delivery to arrive at a certain time? He’ll think “if I can’t wake her up with coffee that I’ve made, maybe I can send her some.” So, when he knows she had a long night at work the day before, he’ll deliver some breakfast to her with a little text that says something like “breakfast in bed ❤️❤️❤️” and she sends him a photo of her actually eating it in bed. Grateful that she didn’t have to get up and make stuff for herself after the night she’s had. And on a random Wednesday afternoon, he’ll just send flowers to her job. For no reason whatsoever. Just wanted to make her smile. He’ll ask her to send him an outfit check every day cuz he misses the way she would twirl around and how him what she’s wearing everyday. He’ll send her those silly little mirror selfies with his leg up on the bathroom counter. You know, the ones he takes for Instagram sometimes (I fucking love those). And, of course, memes. Memes are Matty’s love language. He’ll be at an afterparty, drunk, scrolling online and sending her shit. It’s like noon her time. She’s with her co-workers. Or at some official meeting, and her phone is blowing up with Matty memes. And she has to bite her lips to keep from laughing.

It’s hard on both of them, and they try to keep communicating. He calls her and falls asleep on the phone sometimes cuz he “just needed to hear her voice.” Or “it doesn’t feel the same without you here.” But it’s hell. And he can’t wait to get home to her as soon as he possibly can.

#Matty Healy #matty concepts

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

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Still A Sunbeam

Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together

“Lucien,” Elain whispered, trying—and failing—to escape the hold he had on her body. “Lucien, we’re going to be late.”

Behind her, Lucien buried his face in her tangled hair, grunting a response that sounded suspiciously like “ten more minutes.”

He’d been saying that for a good hour now. They would be late, and she didn’t think the prince or his father would appreciate knowing Elain didn’t try harder to push him out of bed. And she wanted to, though in a much more real sense, Elain wanted to twist in Lucien’s arms and press her mouth to his.

And whatever happened after, well…

But they had actual responsibilities and when Elain truly thought about it, she knew she didn’t want to be just another conquest for Lucien. Someone he fooled around with when he was bored only to forget when there were more interesting people around. Elain liked him, which made laying beside him dangerous.

If he’d made a move, she would have given in and thoroughly embarrassed herself. For the rest of her life, Lucien would know how easy it was to get her beneath him and Elain didn’t think she could stand the humiliation. She was still committed to her first time meaning something—with someone who cared about her.

Even if it was never more than a time limited thing, even if they didn’t end up together for eternity which seemed a very likely possibility just given who Lucien was and what she’d seen since she’d joined his court. Elain wanted to look back on that first time and know he’d cared about her—loved her, even if it wasn’t forever.

She didn’t think Lucien did, though she did think he could. With enough time, perhaps. Lucien slung a heavy, muscular thigh over her hip, dragging her closer.

“You smell good,” he whispered, his voice thick with sleep. “When did you crawl into my bed?”

“You don’t remember?” Elain replied, waiting for him to wake. “The things you did to me last night, I…Lucien, when you asked me to marry you I thought you were crazy but then—”

“What?” he asked, raising his head just enough to blink down at her. The long, thick strands of his auburn hair tickled his cheek though it was the panicked look on his handsome face that made Elain smile. “What did we do?”

“Of course you’d ask that,” she replied with an eye roll, shoving herself out of his grasp. “You violated the pillow barrier we made.”

Lucien shrugged his broad, naked shoulders, flopping back to the mattress while Elain shimmied out of bed. The pillows they’d laid between them the night before were shoved to the very edge of the bed along with the bunched sheet clinging to the bed for dear life. It was too hot to be under so many blankets.

Hotter, still, to be trapped beneath Lucien’s heavy body. Sliding a hand behind his head, Lucien tracked her every movement with a lazy smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“You’re so smug for a man who got nothing but my hair in his mouth,” Elain snapped, irritated with him. “And you need to get dressed.”

“Ladies first,” was his infuriating reply. Elain gathered up her clothes—a gown of turquoise blue that might have been the most scandalous things she’d ever draped over her body. A tight bodice with pearl straps for sleeves cut so low and pressed so tightly that her breasts all but heaved toward the heavens. The back dipped toward her hips, leaving her spine utterly exposed. The material itself sparkled in the sun, glittering like little diamonds and was thin enough that a light breeze would send the fabric flying toward her knees.

Elain placed little pearls in her ears to match the straps, and twisted half her hair off her face with matching silver and pearl combs shaped like seashells. Arina had shown Elain how to do her make up in a way that was subtle, while enhancing all her best features which sucked up a good deal of her time.

Elain emerged to find Lucien standing in front of a mirror, frowning while staring down at the rather plain white, sleeveless shirt he’d pulled over his body. In his hands he held two vests—one gold, one the same shade of turquoise she wore. It was selfish, but Elain went to him and said, “Definitely the blue.”

Lucien looked first in the mirror before blinking rapidly. He twisted as though he needed to look at her in person. Elain swallowed, hands clammy at her sides. Do you like it? Is it too much?

For a moment, he said nothing at all. Finally, Lucien cleared his throat, blinked one final time, and said, “Yeah. Blue would be good.”

He shrugged it only, quickly slipping the buttons through their respective holes, and then turned again. He still wore his gold rings, still had the little accented metal pieces in the braids that curved along his head over his ear. The rest of his hair fell down his back in glossy, auburn waves she wanted to touch.

Of course she didn’t. Even when Lucien offered her his arm Elain merely kept her hands at her side. She was afraid if she touched him, she might not stop. It was easier to admire him from a distance—to drink in that coiled gold armband around his strong, muscled bicep and the sandals peeking from his flowing pants.

Elain could hear his heartbeat thudding in her ears while they walked. Could he hear hers? Surely he must have given how erratic it was banging against her ribcage. Lucien gave no indication of it, leading her through the sunny halls toward the entrance.

“Where is this meeting being held?” Elain asked when Lucien reached unbidden for her hand.

His grin didn’t meet his eyes. In fact, he looked almost pained as he stared out not toward the city sprawled at the bottom of the hill, but the water they’d been swimming in the day before.

“I told you. We’re going to the—to the barge.”

The pleasure barge.

“For a meeting?” she gaped. She knew they were supposed to go after and was prepared for an hour or two of mingling politely before making her excuses. But the whole day? Lucien chuckled.

“Yes, Elain. Business and pleasure intertwined. I’m going to winnow us now—do not hit me.”

“No promises,” she grumbled, though she squeezed his hand in return before they vanished into nothing. Lucien deposited her on the deck of a rather larger barge overlooking the city they’d just left. The palace glittered like a jewel in the early morning sun, casting a rainbow of light over the surrounding water and the city of Adriata.

“Lucien Spell-Cleaver,” Tarquin, Prince of Adriata and the strongest contender for the throne, strode toward them with an easy, handsome grin. He wore a similar white and turquoise vest to Lucien, though he’d skipped the shirt, leaving his toned chest gleaming beneath the hot sun. Elain tried—and failed—not to admire him, but Tarquin was handsome. Much like Lucien, he exuded power in his powerful frame and judging from the gazes more than a few females and males shot him as he came toward them, they agreed.

Tarquin brushed a loc of white hair from his shoulder. Blue eyes crinkled at the edges as he clapped Lucien on the shoulder, speaking like old friends. Elain supposed they were old friends. Tarquin wasn’t much older than Lucien, and a prince, too. Why shouldn’t they be friends?

She wasn’t listening to them speak, too caught up in the silver earring throwing iridescent light over the wood deck.

Lucien elbowed her in the ribs, drawing her back to the present. Tarquin’s straight, gleaming smile caught her off guard. “See something you like, Elain Archeron?”

Beside her, Lucien had become very still. This was a test and she knew it. Could she do this job, or was she just play-acting under Lucien’s careful supervision.

“I suppose you’ll find out, won’t you?” she replied coyly. “We’ll see how these talks go.”

“I can’t decide if you’re trying to bribe me or not,” Tarquin said with a delighted laugh. Beside her, Lucien may as well have been made of stone.

“Find out,” she offered smoothly. It was all in good fun. Elain knew very well from Feyre’s stories that Tarquin wasn’t interested in any one person and had declared so publicly. A night might be fun if she had that experience and was the sort that could indulge so casually. But Elain was beginning to think she was not the sort, and that she needed all her encounters to mean something, even if they didn’t last forever.

And privately, some part of her was hoping it would be Lucien. That was foolish and she knew it, and yet sometimes Elain thought he didn’t hate her at all. That he returned her feelings, whatever they were, and might even agree to something. She couldn’t stop thinking about his admission that he was thinking about her, couldn’t stop thinking about they’d come back up from the beach, sunburned and laughing and casually touching.

The problem was Elain didn’t know how to bridge the gap. How did she ask him for what she wanted in a way that didn’t make her sound unreasonable? Because she knew she couldn’t share him, that it would break her into a thousand pieces to know he moved through his usual females at court and she was merely one of many.

And she knew beyond just having him, that Killian was still waiting for the year to end. Lucien very likely didn’t want to entangle himself in her messy life. Not when a fight could destroy careful inter-court politics for decades. So Elain smiled at Tarquin like she might be interested, knowing full well the male before her likely smiled at her the exact same way, and returned to not paying attention to Lucien and Tarquin’s easy banter.

There were, as Elain learned, rooms on the barge. Bedrooms, if Tarquin’s laughter was to be believed, but also large meeting rooms beneath the waves, cooled with some magic Elain was grateful for. Ronan, from the night before, was there, along with Dominic who was the person they were charged with swaying. Elain knew he wasn’t directly related to the royal family like Tarquin was, but merely a trusted advisor to the family. Tarquin would oversee Adriata entirely when he turned a century old. Until then, Dominic oversaw his instruction.

“So,” Dominic said, looking at the pair of them through rich, brown eyes. His hair was at least as long as Tarquins and braided in long rows off his face. He might have been as old as her father—maybe older, even, from the soft gray peppering his temples. Still handsome, she thought. “Saffron.”

“Saffron,” Lucien agreed, reclining back in his chair. “Wholesale, without markup.”

“Awfully generous,” Rowan agreed, leaning forward on his elbows. It was a strange push-pull. Summer seemed eager while Lucien seemed nonchalant.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Elain began smoothly. She didn’t dare look at Lucien, though she swore she felt his approval humming in her chest. All three Summer court males sharpened while Lucien only seemed looser. Relaxed. “Your import taxes are high.”

“Day can go around,” Dominic said with a flick of his fingers. “Just like Night does.”

Lucien smiled, glancing at Elain. He was going to let her keep going if she wanted–he wanted her to. Elain didn’t kno what to do with his confidence, but she did know she wanted to kiss him for it.

“And I suppose Summer can find some other spice they like half as well,” Elain replied with a shrug. “It’s costly to harvest, especially in a drought.”

And just like that, things shifted. Lucien didn’t smile any more than he already was, but his gaze sharpened. Elain enjoyed being more than just a spectator. Just as Lucien promised, they inked that deal before the evening truly begun, wasting large quantities of time quibbling over the exact rates, down to the literal dime. Lucien was far better at smoothly lowering things in small percents, until he eventually got what he wanted.

She understood why Helion had sent him and why Lucien was his emissary. In the end, Lucien got everything he wanted while making it seem as if the opposite were true. Though, Elain thought the deal was more than fair.

“A drink?” Dominic asked them both, eyes on the ceiling above them. “Just be careful—someone probably spiked at least half the cups.”

“If you see anything that looks too purple,” Ronan added with a laugh while Tarquin murmured a I know what I’ll be drinking. Elain didn’t get a chance to ask what had been slipped in the cups. Lucien slung a heavy arm over her shoulder and led her out, smiling like he’d just won something.

“You were…you were perfect back there.”

His praise warmed her. “You think so?”

“Yes,” he agreed, brushing strands of hair from his hand. They curled around his lazy fingers before he dropped them, his eyes burning with some strange emotion she didn’t recognize.

“Incredible, even. Now you can’t leave when your year is up. I refuse to hand you over to you on my enemies.”

“No one is your enemy, Lucien,” she retorted.

“You’d be surprised,” he replied, pulling away as Tarquin demanded his attention. It left Elain to walk the length of the barge, lost to the dusky sky and the rapidly cooling air. Everything felt good to her now knowing Lucien thought she was capable. That he wanted to keep her.

She swiped a cup from a nearby table, bringing the fruity wine to her lips. Elain made her way to the railing, draining her cup quickly as she stared out at the sunset. Maybe this was the right time to just tell him her feelings had shifted. Drumming her fingers against the polished surface, Elain felt bolstered.

Nothing could go wrong. She should tell him. She should march right up to him and just…just kiss him. Desire slid through her, filling her with warmth. Yes, she decided as she turned. She could see him walking back the way they’d come, heading toward that meeting room. She’d kiss him, and he’d kiss her back, and confess his feelings, and— “Lucien!” He didn’t hear her over the music. Gathering her skirts in her hands, Elain could think of nothing but his hands against her skin, of his mouth against her own. Of Lucien doing everything Killian had done, but better—but more.

She caught him just at the bottom of the stairs. “Lucien,” she said again, marveling that she didn’t feel fear at all.

Only desire.

He raised his brows. “I’ll be right back,” he said, but Elain didn’t care. They were alone. She surged upwards.

And without another thought, kissed him firmly on the mouth.

Lucien:

For one moment, Elain’s mouth against his own was pure, undiluted bliss. Lucien pressed her against the wall, tangling his fingers in her hair so he could deepen the kiss. Her mouth was sweet, her tongue sweeping against his own. Elain ground herself against him, the scent of her arousal lodging itself inside his nose.

“Elain—” She didn’t let him speak, which was just as well given Lucien didn’t know what he’d been about to say. With one arm braced against the wall of the barge, Lucien reached for her face.

And Elain reached for his pants. The sickly sweetness of her mouth was familiar, but it was her frantic fingers that caused Lucien to pull back so he could look at her. This wasn’t like her—he knew she was unpracticed and inexperienced. Was she really going to let him take her on a pleasure barge off the coast of Summer Court, in a hall anyone could walk down? She didn’t want it to mean anything?

And her mouth…lips stained a deep aubergine made Lucien’s stomach flip. “Elain,” he said when she reached for him again. Her pupils were blown out, eyes big and wide, cheeks flushed…

“Elain, what did you drink?”

But he knew. “Wine,” she said breathlessly. Lucien had to look up at the ceiling to keep himself from falling apart. This was wrong. Her drink had been laced with an aphrodisiac and she likely had no idea. For one miserable second, Lucien mourned the loss of what was happening—this was exactly what he’d wanted. Elain, warm and pliant and willing, trying to take his pants off because she needed him so badly.

“Not like this,” he whispered, well aware she wouldn’t understand in the moment. When had he become the good guy?

Somewhere else?” she asked him, pressing her chest against his own.

“Yes,” he lied, knowing it was the only way to get her out of here. If anyone else found her, she was likely to throw herself at them, too, and who knew if they’d uphold her same honor. Lucien needed to lock her up somewhere and track down Tarquin to see if there was an antidote or, if not, a sedative he could give her so she could sleep this off without embarrassing herself any further.

She was going to be furious with him in the morning. Lucien would have to plead for her forgiveness over that kiss. He hadn’t known, would never have reciprocated if he’d thought she was under the influence. He’d been so fucking excited but of course…of course this was the only reason she wanted him.

She’d have kissed anyone like she’d kissed him if they’d been standing in front of her when the effects washed over her. A small sip was enough to turn a male into a creature of base instinct and little more. How much had she drunk?

“Here,” he said, pulling open a door far below deck. Inside was a bed that smelled over other males—Lucien couldn’t stop the snarl that erupted from him, though he leashed his temper enough to lead her inside.

Elain reached for the strap of her dress and Lucien turned, slamming the door roughly before he could watch her undress.

“Lucien?” she called. He turned the lock loud enough she heard, forehead pressed to the wood. Lucien! Open the door! Lucien, open the door right now or I’ll—!”

“You’ll thank me for this in the morning,” he replied, curling his hands into fists. Lucien’s whole body was hard, unaware he couldn’t just go in there and take her like instinct was driving him to. He felt insane, pulled toward her even as he walked away. The urge to guard her like a snapping animal nearly overwhelmed him, and by the time Lucien was back on deck, surrounded by Summer courtiers drinking and laughing and dancing, Lucien was ready to start a fight.

He found Tarquin leaned up against the rail, looking out at the water while several nearby females giggled loudly for the prince's attention.

“I need you,” Lucien hissed under his breath. He didn’t want anyone else to know what was going on with Elain downstairs. Tarquin glanced over.

“I’m flattered,” he began, earning an eye roll from Lucien.

“That fucking wine,” Lucien interrupted before Tarquin could decline his advances—of which there were none. “How do you mitigate the effects?”

“By fucking,” Tarquin said frankly.

Lucien snarled loud enough Tarquin took a step away from him, palms raised in defense. What the fuck was wrong with him? Tarquin seemed to be asking himself the same question.

“A sedative, then,” Lucien demanded, chest rising and falling rapidly. Tarquin wasn’t a threat no matter how Elain had smiled. Tarquin was his friend—he’d help. Lucien was merely over-tired, that’s all. Too tired, too stressed to make a rational decision, combined with the scent of Elain’s need still lingering in his nose.

A primal part of him demanded he go do something about it.

“What happened?”

“Elain,” he said, hating how desperation colored his tone. “It’s Elain.”

And there was nothing else he needed to say to Tarquin to make the prince understand. Blue eyes swam with sympathy.

“Where is she?”

“Downstairs. I’ve locked her in, but…” But someone was going to wander down eventually. Someone would hear her asking to be let out, would be her savior if they did.

“Go,” Tarquin said, filling Lucien with relief. “I’ll meet you there. I need to go ashore.”

“Quickly,” Lucien urged, turning his back even as he said it. He was back outside her door—now silent—before he’d taken all of five breaths. Pressing his back to the wood, Lucien closed his eyes and sank to the cool, swaying floor.

“Lucien?”

“I’m here,” he said, listening to the frantic pound of her heart.

“What’s happening to me?” she asked, words laced with fear. “I can’t…I…” She sounded like she wanted to cry. Lucien did, too, if only because her fear had mingled with her arousal. He couldn’t control his own body, reacting as though there was danger lurking that he needed to protect her from.

Unaware the only danger was him—that his resolve would break, that he’d open that door and take her when he knew he shouldn’t.

“I’m getting a sedative,” he told her, twisting so his cheek was pressed to the door. “You’ll drink it and fall asleep, and when you wake up we’ll both pretend this never happened.”

There was a pause, and then, “You don’t want me?”

The wine, that’s just the wine talking, she doesn’t want you, she’ll hate you—

“If you wake up in the morning and you still…” Lucien gritted his teeth. “Yes, Elain. I want you so bad I can’t think straight. But not like this. Not when you don’t–”

“I want you,” she insisted, unaware it was the wine that made her want him.

“Tell me that in the morning,” was all he could say. He’d take her back to the Sun Palace and spend the rest of the week making slow, passionate love to her.

The effort it took to ignore her soft pleading and just wait took a toll on Lucien. By the time Tarquin arrived, holding a golden goblet in his hand, Lucien was wrung out and exhausted. His body ached from the hard floor beneath him and how much he wanted to just give in.

“Good luck,” Tarquin offered, not daring to come too close. That was smart—the hackles on Lucien’s neck raised at the mere sight of him. Waiting until the prince vanished settled him, though he dreaded unlocking that door. Was it better to surprise her or to warn her? Lucien settled on surprise, thinking she might try and tempt him into bed and he was hanging by a fraying thread already.

Mercifully, Elain was still dressed, pacing back and forth like a wild animal. Narrowed, angry eyes greeted him when he slipped inside, closing the door behind him. Lucien was too paranoid that another male was going to try and get in, that he’d have to fight to the death to keep her safe. To keep her his.

“Lucien—”

“Drink this,” he said, thrusting the cup between them. “Drink it, and I’m yours.”

“Swear,” she whispered, as if Lucien hadn’t been hers from the moment he’d first seen her. Even if he’d been too young, too stupid to know, he knew it now. Whatever was happening, whatever magic had wound its way between them made it impossible for him to think otherwise. There was no going back, no giving her up.

“I swear,” he whispered, daring the smallest step toward her. “I’ve always been only yours.”

She held his gaze, fingers cupping his own as though to gauge the truth in his statement.

“Drink it,” he urged. He was going to snap if he had to spend another minute in the too small room, suffocating in the scent of her needy, unmet arousal. “Princess, please.”

She brought the cup to her lips, a question in those fawn brown eyes. “Princess?”

“Yes,” he agreed, wondering what his parents would say when he told them. “Of my home, my court—my princess, Elain. Drink.”

And she did, pacified at last, having wrung the truth from his hateful lips. She’d remember all this, and perhaps would feel more charitably toward him knowing how utterly ruined he was. How he wanted to get on his knees and prostrate himself before her.

Elain drank all of the clear liquid, eyes hooded with each new gulp. The cup tumbled from her hands as she slumped forward, caught in Lucien’s waiting arms.

“Good girl,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re going to sleep and when you wake up, there will be nothing to apologize for.”

“Why…?” she slurred out a question he couldn’t answer, not when the lids of her eyes fluttered shut, taking the scent of her arousal with it.

Thank the fucking cauldron for that, he thought with relief. No one stopped the pair of them when Lucien brought her above deck, skin warmed by the fading sunlight on the horizon. It would be a night of partying—one he still needed to be part of, if only as a show of good faith. Lucien made Elain’s apologies as people saw her curled up in his arms. Too much to drink, he said with an easy smile. That wasn’t wholly untrue, and from the amused smile on Tarquin’s face, he knew the prince of Adriata wouldn’t tell.

He winnowed back to shore, his sense returning with every easy step. Back to the room they shared, and the bed he’d woken in just that morning. Lucien left her beneath the sheets, her hair obscuring her face, and locked the door from the outside once again. She could get out if she wanted, though he doubted she would wake before he returned. More importantly, his own scent coated the sheets, the air, her skin—any male who came in would be warned away by Lucien’s invisible presence. That soothed him.

He was back on the barge, swaggering about like both his heart and his mind were in that bed with Elain.

“Dominic will be wanting to talk to you,” Tarquin’s voice cut through Lucien’s longing. “Congratulate you, since Elain is gone.”

“Was he hoping to congratulate her?” Lucien demanded, his words more ferocious than he’d meant. Tarquin only smiled, leaning against the rail shoulder to shoulder with Lucien.

“I think a lot of males were. They won’t be anymore—not with you snapping your teeth every time they look her way.”

“Good.” Though, that did little to ease the knot in Lucien’s chest. Tarquin glanced sidelong at Lucien, suppressing a smile.

“How long?”

“Excuse me?” Lucien asked, twisting to face the prince. “How long what?”

“How long ago did the bond snap for you? It seems new. And…” he bit the inside of his cheek, unaware of how Lucien had begun to spiral. “I assume she doesn’t know?”

“Bond?”

Tarquin’s nose flared. “Is it recent?”

Mating bond. Tarquin was asking Lucien when his mating bond had snapped. With Elain—a mating bond, a—- “I don’t think…there’s no bond, I—”

Tarquin threw his head back and laughed. “No, of course not. This is just perfectly rational behavior for you, then? Do you so jealously guard all the females at court?”

No. Never. Never.

“It hasn’t…there was no snap—”

“Maybe I’m wrong, then,” Tarquin said, pushing off the rail. But the unspoken words just beneath ran a river through Lucien. Probably not, though.

Heart thudding, Lucien’s eyes drifted toward the shore and the towering castle looming in the distance.

Mate.

Was Elain Archeron truly his mate?

#elucien #friyay!#for surviving the horrors and saying nice things about my wife #enjoy this little slice of insanity #i will be apologizing for nothing

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