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anadiasmount · 24 days

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day in the life w bf!jude but your sick and not well/feeling so down. jude being all caring and protecting while you are mentally drained and hurt (like my throat LMAO) he’s all taking care of you and immediately on bf protection mode. when you wake up, to when you’re both out, to when you’re both visiting his moms, showering, to when it’s time for bed . then before bed he’s holding you so comfortably, endlessly asking if your okay or if you need anything or to take your thoughts on the pain away, asking you want to watch something w him?

would be the biggest and softest bf ever :(( NEED HIM NOW 😔😔

it was strange to jude you hadn’t woken up early, in the kitchen either on your online class or making your gifted smoothies. it was almost 11am when jude returned from his morning run, walking into your shared room where your were completely tucked in your sheets, head barely peaking as you slept.

jude frowned, walking quietly and sitting on the bed, where you didn’t budge. “y/n? darling? you okay?” he whispered, brushing his fingers on your cheek and tucking your messy and all over the place hair back. you groaned turning away from him, ducking under the covers, “let me sleep! it’s so early jude!” you complain.

“it’s almost 11:30 love…” jude reclaimed, running his hand and massaging the middle of your bare back. “so? still early…” you tried to defend but ended up sneezing and sniffling. “are you sick?” asked jude, immediately opening your night desk drawer and looking for cold and flu pills. it explained your mood and tiredness.

“shh stop talking… my head hurts really bad jude,” you whined, covering your ears. you hated being sick, and it was super rare when you did. though when you were, it was the worst. constant headaches, runny nose all day, congested nose and throat, and body chills, aches all over, which made it hard to do anything. “sit up for me, i have some medicine,” jude ordered listening to your protest but doing as he said.

he opened the bottled water, placing the 2 pills in your mouth and helping you so the water wouldn’t fall or spill. your eyes remained closed, knowing the light would cause more pain. jude gently rubbed your eyes, and brought you to his chest. “promise you, you’ll feel better soon…” he placed a kiss on your temple, rubbing the sides of your arms, “especially if you take a hot bath and eat something.”

“i’m not hungry,” you dismissed shaking your head, “i know but the medicine won’t have any affect if you have no food here,” jude tickled your tummy hearing you let out a small giggle. “drink more water,” he helped you again, seeing as you almost drank it all. “cmon i have to shower too, i’ll help you baby,” he picked and helped you to the bath.

jude softly scrubbed your skin and washed your hair, paying close attention to you being soft with his movements. he loved to take care of you, returning the affection especially when you did it to him after his games or long travels. he massaged your back and neck, feeling the tension go away after. “it feels so nice jude,” you praise, wanting to return the favor but he wouldn’t allow you, saying he didn’t want you to lift a finger.

jude then also helped with your hair care and skincare, knowing you would cause a fuss if you didn’t at least have any moisturizer on. helping you change into some loose and comfortable clothes after rubbing your skin with lotion. “do you want some herbal tea your mom brought us? it will make you be able to digest some food and clear your sinus?” jude spoke softly, seeing as you nodded.

while he prepared and made some soup, he brought you a warm blanket and your tea, setting it down along with some cookies, and antibiotics incase you had an infection or virus. “do you need any help?” you pout feeling bad as he was doing all this work after his game the day before. “no love, i have it handled. i just want you to rest okay? you need to or else how are you going to get better?” he quoted your words when he was injured. you let out a small smile, “thank you, handsome,” your leaned up and hugged him tight.

“we still have stuff to do. we need to go grocery shopping and visit your mom, i promised her to join her later today,” you recalled, sitting up and holding your head. “you can’t go out like this!-”

“i wasn’t asking. i was telling you. i have put it off for so long and there’s barely any groceries left. it will be quick and easy, same with your mom! she needs one on one girl talk and i haven’t seen her in so long,” you tell jude to where he rolls his eyes at your stubbornness. “one on one girl talk? about what?”

“it’s called one on one girl talk for a reason jude… we can leave a little later okay? i’m feeling way better compared to the morning,” you admit, standing up but jude ushers you to sit down, taking your mug to the sink and washing it for you. “i can’t talk this one out of you right?”

“nope,” you deadpanned.

jude made your warm soup, organizing and cleaning up the kitchen so it wouldn’t be a mess. writing down stuff that was missing from the refrigerator, pantry, and other necessities, making note to also refill your medicines. he insisted you wear a jacket, knowing the grocery store would be cold and he couldn’t risk you getting a deep cough and sickness.

“what else is left?” jude asked, placing different veggies in their bags into the cart. he was in charge of bagging and you crossing off items on the list. “new toothpaste, cases of waters and juice, and your snacks,” you read off, following jude as he filled the bottom with water and juice like you said.

“i know i can be annoying when im sick, but thank you for taking care of me,” you said, feeling overwhelmed with joy and happiness to have a boyfriend like jude. he was patient, loving, helping, and sooo protective. he wanted you to feel safe and cared for by his side and he never failed to do that.

“see that’s what we’re not going to do,” said jude when you rejected his kiss, he grabbed your face a placed a messy kiss on your lips. “don’t care if i get sick, just need you to know i’ll do anything for you okay? sick or not,” jude hugged you, as you waited in line to pay.

after returning home and unpacking, you took a small and well needed nap. jude doing some laundry and placing it where it goes, watering your plants and worked out. he also took you to his moms after you insisted, where you guys talked for hours and then did some re-arranging in the house. if there was one thing jude loved, it was watching his two favorite girls get along so well, sharing laughs and making new memories.

you fell asleep once again in the car ride home on jude’s lap, jude massaging your scalp where you fell into a deeper sleep. he carried you to the room again, changing you into a long sleeve and some shorts, also helping you brush your teeth and take the night pills for your cold and headache. “wait for me here okay? gonna make sure everything is off,” he kissed your head.

he brought back a warm blanket and waters, doing his own night routine before joining you in bed. you immediately looked and seemed for comfort on him, resting your side and head on his chest, eyes closing softly wanting to stay up with up. jude held you tight, so in love and infatuated with your beauty even when sick.

“how are you feeling?” jude asked, running his hand along your spine, tracing shapes, and holding you close to him. “mmm better, but my headache returned in the car… and before you worry, the medicine is helping though,” you reassured him, knowing he would be quick to jump out the bed to help you. you loved when he was clingy and just so protective like this. especially when it was about you. “i’m gonna be waking up every now and then to check in on you okay? if you don’t feel better by tomorrow we’re booking an appointment,” he said seriously.

“okay jude,” you nodded, your hand resting on his chest as you felt your sleep return again. it was a long night for you the day before, so sleep is what you planned to do this night, to catch up on it. “if you don’t feel good, just me me know okay? i don’t care if it’s the smallest pain or ache.”

“i promise i will jude.”

“do you need anything else before we go to sleep?” he whispered, “no jude. im right where i want to be,” you smiled, kissing his chest and then a longing kiss on his lips. “we can watch a movie in the mean time? your choice,” you relaxed in his hold, grabbing the remote for him. jude scrolled and scrolled for minutes, finding the perfect movie to end the hectic day.

not even 5 minutes in, you had fell asleep, brows pulled in and a small pout as you rested soundly. you tried to stay up for him but the medics had done it’s job and jude couldn’t complain. him to was tired, after watching a few more minutes he turned off the tv, charging your phones and bringing you up close to him, careful to not wake you.

“sweet dreams darling…”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

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reverie-starlight · 2 months

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...some atsumu fluff to warm up for the birth month of me AND this blog bc he is my husband. extremely self-ship coded bc I set a million alarms and snooze them all and it would piss him off, which I love doing <3

gn!reader, no physical descriptions, university student reader. fluffy fluff. very short.

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atsumu groans when he hears your alarm go off for the fifth time that morning. it's loud enough that the sound travels from behind the closed door of your bedroom all the way to where he's leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking his morning protein shake. he hears the exact moment you cut off its wailing two seconds later.

"looks like it's gonna be one of those mornings," he mumbles to himself, taking another sip. he tries to savour his last moments of early morning peace before chaos breaks out.

getting you up in the mornings could be... challenging... to put it kindly. there are just some days you don't want to get up for class or make the trek to campus. he regularly hears you whining about how you screwed yourself over with choosing too many early classes. if he's being honest, it makes him even more satisfied with his decision to not attend university. he's spent many mornings trying to coax you out from under the covers to no avail.

but thankfully miya atsumu loves a challenge.

his success rate has been 100% lately, much to your dismay and begrudging appreciation, because you both know you care too much to actually miss a lecture, no matter how much you value your sleep. so after downing the rest of his smoothie, he puts his glass in the sink and pushes himself off the counter, heading to the bedroom.

he enters the room with no intentions of being quiet and jumps right onto his side of the bed. he bites back a grin when you startle and mutter some colourful words under your breath.

"babyyyy~" his voice is full of excitement and he just knows it's making you regret shutting off your alarms.

"atsumu, please, five more min-" you begin whining, but he cuts you off.

"nope! ya gotta start your day, or you're gonna be late." he places a hand on your shoulder and shakes you a bit.

you groan. "'tsum, please. I'm so tired..."

he tuts a little. "no can do, I'm afraid. you're the one who told me you've got an exam comin' up next week."

you don't respond and he grins, knowing he's getting closer. he moves his hand from your shoulder to the comforter covering your body and rips it off.

"ATSUMU!" you shriek, trying to steal back its warmth and go back to sleep.

the blonde just laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead when you lunge for the covers. he relents and lets you believe he’s showing mercy, watching as you bury yourself back into a burrito.

“five more minutes, but if you’re not up by then I’ll really make ya regret not listenin’.”

you scoff and wave him off, incorrectly assuming he’s gone soft on you.

four and a half minutes later, he’s sneaking back into the bedroom and waiting until his timer hit exactly five minutes to pounce on you.

you yelp a little, but it quickly dissolves into peels of laughter as his hands attack every side of the blanket prison you had unknowingly trapped yourself in.

“atsumu, nO!” you attempt, but you can’t reach him from inside the blanket and he knows.

"ya brought this on yourself, sweetheart. could've had me waking ya up with kisses and some sweet talk, but ya just have to make things difficult for me, hm?"

“nooo I’m sorryyyy-“ you plead for forgiveness, beg him, anything to get him to stop tickling you.

he finally relents a bit when he realizes that you might not be able to breathe under there and watches as you peek your face out a bit, weary eyes glued to his form.

“are ya gonna get up now?”

he snickers when you nod fervently and pats your leg over the comforter. “alright, hurry up, then. I made ya coffee. I’ll walk with ya to the train.”

“won’t you be late, then?” you ask on your way to the washroom.

he shrugs. “worth it.”

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again, super short, but very sweet I hope. birth month calls for lots of content for my favs, so get ready <3

#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff

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spidervee · 1 year

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in which jake is your roommate and ruins all your dates. accidentally. accidentally, right?🌻 18+ only!

Jake Seresin isn’t an ideal roommate. He sings in the shower at 5 a.m., he can’t load a dishwasher to save his life—seriously, who puts mugs on the bottom—and he has a habit of walking around shirtless that is beginning to interfere with your love life.

Of course, he’s got a lot of good qualities. He’s a surprisingly good cook, with a recipe for chicken and dumplings you’re pretty sure is the best thing you’ve ever eaten. He’s also got that Navy-mandated tidiness, so the apartment you share is always vacuumed and dusted. And he has a habit of walking around shirtless, which, as appealing as it is for your eyes, is…

Yepp. Starting to mess with your love life.

Because guys see Jake making a smoothie in the kitchen or getting back from a run or literally doing anything and decide they have to have some stupid pissing contest with your roommate, who remains, you think, entirely oblivious to how threatened he makes the men you bring home. Because why would he see them as a threat, right? He’s so far out of your league that your dates have nothing to worry about. Jake Seresin could pull any girl he ever wanted so why would he want you?

You’re almost grateful he’s deployed—despite your usual worry for his safety—when you bring a new guy home from the bar. No Jake means no weird energy and maybe a chance to actually let a relationship get off its feet.

Until he comes out of the bathroom and you’re smiling at your phone because Jake sent you a text, a photo of the two of you at the beach from last year. One of those iPhone memories that apparently made him think of you.

This came up on my phone yesterday. Miss you, sweetheart. Don’t burn the place down. Oh and I’m safe in case you couldn’t tell.

Your date isn’t thrilled to see the photo, even though he asks to. Tells you it looks like you’re a couple—as if—and that Jake seems really comfortable touching you—he’s just a touchy person.

The night ends with some mediocre sex and, despite his words to the otherwise, your date never calls you back.

You try not to blame Jake, but it’s hard not to see him as the root of all your woes in love. And if you’re not mad at him, you’ll have to analyze why he’s accidentally ruining every date you’re on and maybe you’ll have to admit that it’s because none of these guys actually measure up to Jake.

You’d have to have the startling realization that you are hopelessly in love with your roommate.

So when Jake comes back a few weeks later maybe you’re cold. Maybe you’re quiet. Maybe you’re keeping to yourself and maybe you tell him to fuck off when he keeps asking what he did wrong.

You move to storm out of the apartment and it’s all very dramatic, but Jake stops you with a hand grasped firmly around your wrist. It’s not rough, but determined, and he pulls you gently closer to him, his green eyes burning with confusion under furrowed brows.

“What was that?” His skin is sun-kissed and he can’t tell you where he was deployed but you know it was somewhere warm from the way the few freckles that dot his nose are more prominent than usual.

“Fuck. Off.”

Jake blinks, undeterred. And then he stares at you, gaze so focused you feel like you’re a target in one of his stupid training exercises. You want to shy away, but when his other hand comes up to wipe away the tears you hadn’t realized we’re gathering in your eyes it all comes out. All your weird and messy feelings that will certainly ruin everything and make it so you need to find another place to live.

But when you’re done talking, Jake just frowns. He pulls you impossibly closer and rests his chin atop your head. “I’m sorry, sweets,” he mutters, “But I’m glad I scared those guys off.” He doesn’t add that he was totally doing it on purpose as often as he could—things are still too fragile for that. One day he’ll tell you. And on that day, he’ll receive a face full of chocolate cake as punishment.

But for today, he just lets you sniffle in his arms, holds you close as you put a wet spot down the front of his t-shirt. “They’re not good enough for you,” he continues, “I just helped them realize that sooner rather than later.”

“Jake,” you complain, “You can’t keep doing that. I need…I want to find someone.”

His frown deepens and he places his hands on your waist, tapping your hips lightly to warn you that he’s going to pick you up. Carrying you into your bedroom, he sighs. “Fine. I’ll stop, if you give this guy I know a shot.”

“I’m listening.”

“He’s Navy,” Jake continues, “And he’s got a killer body.”

“Definitely listening,” you laugh, but try to ignore the pang of hurt that is Jake setting you up with one of his friends.

Jake rolls his eyes and takes a spot beside you on your bed. “He’s a great pilot, some say the best. And he’s a gentleman, Texas-raised so he knows his way around a kitchen.”

Oh. Oh.

“Jake…”

He holds up a hand, not willing to be interrupted. “And he’s shit at loading the dishwasher, sweets, but I know he’d be willing to learn.”

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin #jake seresin blurb #jake seresin drabble #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x reader fluff #hangman x reader #hangman x you

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skipper1331 · 7 months

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One Day // Vivianne Miedema

a/n: based off this and this request - thought i could combine them.

"Good morning, my love" you whispered as your alarm ringed, the dutch never one to wake up by just an alarm. "We have to get up" your pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, knowing she loved it when she woke up to kisses, "No" said person grumbled while she tightened her arms around you, pulling you closer in her embrace. "We have to" you entangled your body out of her arms, one leg already out of bed as Viv suddenly sat up, "Need kissies" she pulled you back in, your legs resting at either side of her waist, "so needy" you giggled before you littered pecks all over her face, her nose scrunching in responds.

"Now i‘m ready to start the day!"

"Liefje" the tall woman called as you were in bathroom, ready to start your morning routine, "what do want for breakfast?" her head chipped in, her eyes roaming over your body as you were in nothing but her too big clothes. A slight blush covered cheeks while her heart fluttered, you never failed to amaze her by you just being you. "Smoothie? Maybe?"

"Smoothie it is" the striker left you alone, making her way down to the kitchen as you continued or rather started your routine. The smoothie was on the counter, already in a cup (your favorite) as you patted to the kitchen, Viv nowhere to be seen. Sipping from the straw, the delicious taste of your favorite fruits hit your mouth - Viv made the best smoothies. "Hm, you like it?" said person asked. "Shit!" you jumped, hand over your chest as you tried to control your breathing, "babyyy" you whined, "I almost dropped my smoothie" grumbling at her, the tall woman poked your cheeks, making you laugh, "i love your laughter" she muttered, eyes full of love as her arms looped around your midsection, "the smoothie?"

"was perfect" you gave her a peck or two, "like you" pecking all over her face. The dutch giggled, her nose scrunching as a big smile broke out on her face.

"Ik houd van jou"

"I love you too"

"Liefje, hurry up!" Viv yelled as she stood at the front door, your kit bag as well as her own in her hand. "I can‘t find my bag" your eyes scanned through your bedroom, then the living room - every room. Walking up to Viv you gave up, you had no idea where your bag was, the striker chuckled at your helpless expression. You gave her a glare, how can this be funny to her? With an ease she lifted your bag, waving it in front of your eyes. In reaction you snatched it away, "you let me search for it for 15 minutes, knowing you had it in your hand!" you growled, frowning like a child.

"You’re cute" the dutchie slung her arm around your shoulder as she pressed a kiss to your head, "now let‘s go"

Viv took a seat in the drivers seat while you sat next to her, even though you had the passenger princess privileges Taylor Swift music was playing the whole time on the way to the stadium. You just had to look at the shy girl and you would crumble and do anything for her. So meanwhile she sang to herself yet audible for you (something only you had the privilege to hear) her hand was resting on the bare skin of your thigh, absently drawing circles on it.

Derby day.

The blues.

Always a strong opponent.

The stands were filled with red and blue, fans were singing chants, both teams in the tunnel. Viv was behind you, you could feel her eyes on you, like always. Every match the dutch would stand behind you, it calmed her. Her eyes would roam over your figure, always stopping at your jersey. One day her surname will be on the back of it. That was a promise. A promise she made ages ago.

At half time the score was 1-1. Sam Kerr scoring the opening goal while Kim Little scored the penatly. The game was rough, Emma Hayes looked like she was about kill someone and a certain defender was targeting you, Maren Mjelde. Each time you had the ball you hadn‘t had it for long - your body hitting the grass every time. A little push or her leg in your way would cause you to fall. For sure, your body will have bruises tomorrow. Viv was the first by your side, asking If you‘re okay or what hurts. Slowly but surely the dutch was getting angry, how could Mjelde get away with it? No card - no foul. After the 8th time of your body hitting the ground Viv had enough - you didn‘t get up. Lia at your side while Viv was by the Chelsea defender shoving her as she cursed in her mother tongue. Most of the time, the tall woman was calm and collected but not when it came to you. Her patience was very short when it came to you.

Katie had her arms around the dutch trying to pull her away while Kim stood in front of her, pushing her away. Captain duties. As the ref showed Viv a yellow card, the same card Maren Mjelde finally got, Viv was by your side. Her hand wiped the sweaty hair out of your face while the medics examined your ankle, "is it bad?" you whispered, tears running down your cheeks. "I don‘t know, my girl"

Your ankle hurt and you were subbed off but in a few days, everything would be fine. With an ice pack around your ankle you watched the rest of the game, your lover not scoring once but twice. Her reply to your substitution - her statement: do not mess with her girl.

When the final whistle blew, the dutch shook every opponents hand, Maren being the last, "I‘m sorry" she apologized, "i didn‘t mean to shove you" It was simply out of the situation - out of her emotional state. She couldn’t harm a fly, even If she tried. At the end of the day it was just an intense game where no one had any evil intention.

It was important for Vivianne to have apologized. It wasn't like her not to.

Viv was one of the best strikers in the world but she also had her values and morals. If things got more intense on the field, it was important for her to clear the air after.

As it should be.

At the end of the day, every player was only human.

You were glad when the match was finally called to an end, ready to go home with your lover. Both of you decided to shower at home, it was already in the evening - you wouldn‘t leave your home anymore. Again the striker behind the steering wheel, this time with her hand in yours as she drove the two of you home. At a red light, she occasionally would press a kiss to your lips as she had not felt them against her own the whole time. Even though every one knew you were a couple, you would act professionally, only in private showing the lovey-dovey side you shared. Yet there were always loving glances and sneaky touches, you couldn't do it completely without - the love you shared was way to powerful and present to hide it.

The tall woman carried your bag inside as you patted after her, your ankle still covered in ice. "Take out, baby?" you asked while you snuggled your arms around her from behind - the dutch being too tall for you to rest your head on her shoulder "sure, your usual?" she asked turning around, her arms going around your shoulders as she craned her neck down, pressing a loving kiss to your head. In agreement you hummed in to her chest, tightening your grip around the striker. "Missed you" you mumbled as an exhausted sigh left your throat. Viv squeezed you, knowing what you meant.

You had missed her kisses.

You had missed her hugs.

You had missed her shy smile and blushing cheeks.

You had missed her.

"Lets take a shower" the taller girl lifted you up, your legs going around her waist as she carried you to the bathroom. She placed you on the counter, "is it okay if i take your clothes off?" she asked. In respond you muttered a tired yes - the dutch made sure everything she did was with consent. She took your shirt off, she asked If it was okay. She took your pants off, she asked If it was okay. That just who she was.

After showering and dressed up in some comfy clothes, the two of you found yourselves sitting on the couch. You had your back leaned against Vivs front as your limbs were tangled together. With your hair and body freshly washed you felt clean again, the striker behind you, ordering the take out while you searched for a series. As you decided which series you wanted to watched you nestled back in Vivs embrace as she silently massaged your shoulders. "Thank you, baby" you muttered contently, eyes closed as the voice of Phil Dunphy filled the background noices. Though, the dutch was sitting behind you, you knew that her cheeks were covered in a blush, her shy smile across her face. No matter how long the two of you had been a couple If you called her any kind of pet name, the girl would squeal inside, skin tingle, heart race, love burst.

When the food arrived, both of you took a seat at the kitchen table and while you enjoyed your meals, you talked about everything and nothing, loving glances and touches being shared.

Back on the couch, your head rested in the crook of her neck, legs tangled as her fingers combed through your hair in a manner to help you fall asleep. Pressing featherlight kisses to her neck, you mumbled inaudible words - the taller girl pulling you close(r). The series in the background long forgotten as your breathing evened out, soft snores hitting Vivs neck. Vivianne continued to watch the episode of modern family before she carried you to bed. She tugged you under the blanket like a burrito, herself laying next to you as she pulled you in her arms - she could only sleep with you in her touch, knowing you were safe.

"Good night, liefje, Ik houd van jou" she mumbled, pressing a long and final kiss for the day to your head before she settled in to the pillow. It didn‘t take long for the striker to fall asleep - dreaming about you.

Mrs. Miedema, one day.

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#viv miedema #vivianne miedema #viv miedema x reader #vivianne miedema x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #oranjeleeuwinnen #nedwnt #nedwnt x reader #arsenal x reader

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atinylittlepain · 8 months

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Tougher Than the Rest

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

wordcount | 5.5K

warnings | smut, angst, the usual

a/n | we have reached the last chapter of this story. thank you to everyone who has followed along with this one, it has truly been a treat working with these characters, so your love for them means a lot. as always i'd love to hear what you think, drop me a line!

...................................

“Ellie, school in thirty! You better be up if you’re catching the train! Sorry about that, my daughter is– well, you know how kids can be. What was the question again?” She hates these things. These fluffy little interviews that her agent forces her into whenever she has a new book coming out. Good publicity and all that. Bullshit, if you ask her. Why can’t the book just speak for itself?

“No worries at all, I was wondering if you could tell me a little about your writing process for this last book, did you have a set routine or any rituals that propelled your work forward?” Rituals, gag her. She tries not to let out a dejected sigh over the phone, settling instead for an eye roll as she attempts to get Ellie’s lunch put together with one and a half hands, her phone settled precariously between her cheek and her shoulder as she puts together a pb and j, except not because Ellie’s school has a thing about peanut butter. So, sunflower butter and organic apricot jam from the co-op down the block that she somehow got wrangled into as a member.

“You know, I try not to be too precious about routines. I write as much as I can whenever I can. And as a mom, I have to take whatever time I can get.” The interviewer most certainly didn’t like that answer, a long right, okay crackling over the line. But what did he expect? Some sort of meticulous, meditative bullshit no doubt. Sorry, not her style.

“So, last question here, you have certainly established yourself over the last decade as a prolific writer. What is it that keeps you writing?” Well, that’s simple, isn’t it? If she keeps writing, she keeps herself from thinking about the past, about things she shouldn’t be thinking about. But her agent would probably throttle her for saying that, so something else in its place instead.

“I always wanted to be a writer growing up. It’s just– instinct, maybe impulse, frankly. I write because it’s what I know how to do, it’s how I figure out this world.” She tacks on that last bit hoping it will make up for the entirely unsexy rest of her responses, and judging by the hmm the interviewer lets out over the phone, it will suffice. All the usual niceties and a long sigh when she finally hangs up.

“Ellie, if you aren’t up I’m–”

“Jesus, I’m up, woman.” Her eleven-year-old has developed a new habit of calling her woman like a despondent husband in a loveless marriage, marching out of her bedroom and into the kitchen as she shoves papers into her backpack.

“Lunch for you, and I will be outside of the school at 3:30 to walk home with you, okay? Do you– I can walk with you this morning too if–”

“No, mom, I got it.” It stings, just a little, smarting, and then a small swell of pride that her girl is so independent.

“Okay, okay, let’s get some breakfast in you, huh? Smoothie, that sound good?” Ellie’s face scrunches up, but she doesn’t give her an abject no, and that’s enough for Cherry to get out the blender.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s in Texas?” Cherry freezes, her hand holding half a banana (non-GMO, whatever the fuck that means) suspended over the blender.

“What– where’s that question coming from?”

“On the computer last night, you had left it open to some construction company in Texas.” Shit, her smart girl. That was how Ellie found out that Santa wasn’t real two years ago, hopping on the desktop and finding the order confirmation for the pair of glow-in-the-dark Converse she had asked for in her letter addressed to the North Pole.

“Oh, um, that– I have a friend who is, uh, moving there and I’m helping her find someone to do work on her new house, yeah.” Ellie doesn’t seem to buy that answer, brow pinched up, but before she can question it, Cherry flips on the blender, letting it whir just a little longer than it needs to.

“Alright, breakfast of champions, you can drink it on the train, yeah? You’re gonna be late if you don’t get a move on.” A quick flurry to pour the smoothie into a to-go cup and then out the door, love you, be safe, bye. A big sigh when she slumps back against the shut door, close one.

Yes, maybe, a moment of weakness yesterday. A moment of weakness while she was working over edits for her next book. Somehow, up until yesterday, she had managed to not let a moment of weakness creep in. But before she knew what she was doing, she was googling his name and Austin, Texas. And there he was, with his own business no less.

Yes, maybe, she had left a tab open on the Miller’s Construction website’s About Us page. And yes, maybe, she had left the page zoomed in on the picture of Joel in the top corner. And yes, maybe, none of her edits had gotten done because she was a little busy looking at said picture for the better portion of the afternoon.

So the first thing that she does after cleaning up the small cyclone in the kitchen is log onto the computer to delete that tab, not letting herself linger on the photo any longer. But he looks good, she thinks. Doing good for himself, she thinks. Not letting that thought get any bigger, that want crack open any more than it already has, right back to work on her edits.

But her mind is fickle this morning, still stuck on that photo, still stuck on him in a way she hasn’t been in a while. Maybe it’s because of the appointment she has at noon. An impulsive choice she made and, for some reason, has kept. A way to hold onto something she should have let go a long time ago. But she can’t.

And yes, maybe, her morning is spent in a constant toggle between the open tab of her word doc, and that damn About Us page on the Miller’s Construction website.

…

He’s nervous. And he’s not sure why, because it’s her, right? It’s them. Except this is new. Not something they ever got to do in the past. Not like this at least.

“Hey there.” She’s in a dress when she opens the door, and his mind has to quickly configure around the fact that this is the first time he has seen her in a dress in two decades, though he probably should have expected that, right? Because people dress up for these things, something that Sarah said to him very slowly like he was an invalid, prompting him into a button-down before he left.

“Hey, Cherry, you look, uh, yeah– look real good.” She smiles, still leaning in the doorframe, but before she can speak, someone else beats her to it.

“Wow, real smooth, man.”

“Ellie.” Cherry hisses it over her shoulder, but Joel never sees the kid, just hears her lowly murmured what? I’m just saying, geez. Already off to a great start.

“Sorry about the peanut gallery, but I’m ready if you are.”

No more sneaking around, no more questioning if this is real or not. They’re doing the thing that normal people do, normal people in a normal relationship. They’re going on a date.

“I like this.” She hums it, reaching across the console from the passenger seat to thumb at the collar of his shirt, her palm smoothing down over his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, you clean up very pretty, Miller.” Just a little snark tinging the end of her words, making him huff as she keeps rubbing distracting circles into his chest.

“Well, you’re in fine form, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” With that, her hand trails up, palm slipping behind the nape of his neck, her fingers threading through the errant curls there while he fights the urge for his eyes to roll back in his head.

“Sure, Cher, at this rate we’re not even gonna make it to the restaurant.” He regrets saying it instantly, because just as soon as the words leave his mouth, she’s taking her hand away, sitting prim and perfect in the passenger seat where she had been completely turned toward him before.

“Right, sorry, best behavior.” Her words slant with the simper of her smile, and he has to remind himself that they’re doing this normal thing now. No need to hurry, no need to hide, no need to steal time. Because she’s staying, and so is he.

By some stroke of luck, they do make it to the restaurant, and it’s right about then that Joel realizes it has been a woefully long time since he has been on a date. He has to stutter himself into all the motions, trying to remember the right moves, opening the door for her, a bit flustered when he pulls her chair out for her and she snorts.

“Well you don’t get this kind of treatment in New York.” To make the matter of his quick creeping flush worse, she presses a kiss to his cheek before she sits down. He gets to have that now, totally normal. He’s still getting used to totally normal.

“So how is the book coming along?” He’s not sure if he’s allowed to ask that, what might still be a sore subject. For a moment, her face falls, fear flickering in his chest that he has fucked up, though she smooths it out, something like a smile still at the edges of her eyes.

“Do you really want to hear me talk about that?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Can I ask you something first?” He nods, of course, taking a cursory sip of his wine as she does the same.

“Did you– what did you think? About the other ones?” She asks it shy, her cheek propped in her hand, smile crumpled to one side. His mind reels with what he could say, though he’s not sure if any of it’s right. It’s not like he has some dazzlingly intellectual thing to say. But she’s asking him, she wants to know what he thinks, and he muses to himself that she’s been wanting to know what he thinks for a while.

“I was amazed by every single one, Cher. And I was proud of you too, even though I had no business feeling that way. It was– I thought about you, a lot, over the years. And getting to read your books, it felt like I could be a little closer to you that way.” He surprises himself with the stark honesty of his words, but how could he offer her anything else when she’s looking at him like that? Smile softening in the dim light of the restaurant, cheeks brimming up with the praise.

“I always wondered, you know, if you were reading them. I– I guess that’s a little ridiculous.” He’s still getting used to this too, being able to reach out for her, taking her hand in his across the table.

“Not ridiculous, and I’m looking forward to reading the new one.”

“I sent the second draft in two days ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, my editor fucking destroyed my first one, so we’ll see how this draft goes over.”

“You know, I’ve been wondering, Cher, when the hell did you get that trucker’s mouth of yours?” She laughs big and bright, shoulders shrugging up to her ears, a little flail to her hands that makes him laugh too.

“I mean, it’s definitely a New York thing. That, and people just started pissing me off a lot more, so I kinda had to.”

“I tried to cut back on it when Sarah got old enough to start picking stuff up. She still managed to slip a few fucks into her vocabulary in the first grade.”

“Oh god, I actually got called into the school when Ellie was in the first grade because she told a boy at recess to leave her the fuck alone. Honestly, I was more proud than anything else, is that bad?”

“Fuck no, it’s not bad. I’d probably take Sarah for ice cream if she did the same.” She sighs around a smile, and he finds himself doing the same, settling into this ease. Yes, he thinks, it’s going to take some getting used to. But he’s more than happy to be getting used to it with her.

…

“I’d like to get it on my right shoulder, if that works okay.” If her mother could see her now. She doesn’t look in the mirror until the tattoo artist has stamped the stencil into place, a satisfied hum in her throat when she gets a look at the design.

Frankly, she wasn’t sure if she was going to keep this appointment. She had made it under the pleasant flush of two glasses of wine late one night about a month ago, surprised to receive an email from the artist saying that they loved her idea and wanted to get her on the books. And for some reason, she didn’t say no, didn’t cancel, and is now laying out on a tattoo table and bracing for the first pass of the needle.

It’s not too bad, a little cringey when the artist is working right over the cap of her shoulder, but otherwise it passes quickly, and before she knows it, she’s standing back in front of the mirror on shaky legs, looking at the twining cherry branch now wrapping around her upper arm.

“It’s perfect, thank you. I love it.” Ellie has rather different feelings about it, her jaw dropping loose when Cherry meets her outside of her school, still warm enough that she’s only in a t-shirt, showing off part of her still-wrapped ink.

“What is that?” There’s no playing it off, Ellie refusing to move until Cherry gives her an answer.

“That is a tattoo, and before you ask, no, not until you’re eighteen.” Ellie balks at that, though Cherry is quick to sling her arm around her girl’s shoulders to set them both walking toward the subway.

“Is it– what is it?” Ellie takes the one leftover seat in the train and Cherry hooks her elbow around the rail in front of her, a perfect opportunity for her kid to get a better look at her new tattoo.

“It’s a cherry tree.”

“I can’t believe you got a tattoo.” She says it with a sigh, like somehow, this is the worst news ever. Cherry has to hold back a laugh, knowing that it will only put Ellie in even worse of a tiff.

“What’s wrong with tattoos?”

“Nothing, but you’re my mom, you’re not supposed to get tattoos.” Ellie grumbles out the last words, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff, perfectly petulant. Cherry gives her little episode about twenty more minutes before she forgets all about it and asks what’s for dinner.

When they do get back to their apartment, Cherry just barely catches the ringing phone, surprised, though pleasantly, when she hears Will on the other end.

“Hey, what’s going on? Everything okay?”

“Hey, yeah, I just thought I’d give you a call.” She knows exactly what that means. It’s only been recently that she and Will can talk like this, call like this. She got out, and he did too, and for a while that had to be enough for the both of them, slinking around the past like they could somehow forget it. It was Will that reached out to her first, and she was relieved for it, not sure if he resented her, or even hated her for the way she left. He didn’t, he understood, and he wanted to know how his big sister was doing.

“Mom?” He sighs over the phone, exactly what she thought. For some reason, their mother still reaches out to him, an errant phone call that he somehow can’t seem to dodge.

“She called to tell me that they’re moving to Arizona.”

“Oh, lovely.”

“Yeah, so I guess that means Austin has finally been fumigated.” Cherry snorts, trying to let that be funny, though all it really feels is bitter.

“You’re not thinking about going back, are you?” Because suddenly, she is. An impossibility for so long, now a little more possible.

“Hell no, Portland has been good to me. I only just managed to lose the accent.”

“I liked your accent, Will. I’m afraid mine has started sounding a little too Brooklyn lately.”

“Yeah, you have that kinda eternally angry thing going on in your voice now.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that my eternally angry voice is what gets me book deals.”

“Sure, that’s what it is, miss New York Times bestseller.” She scoffs, a flustered murmur of yeah, yeah, whatever, always quick to change the subject from anything like that.

“You’re still coming for Christmas though, right? I’d– we’d really love to have you. I’ve been telling Ellie about you.” Something new, she never thought Ellie would get any kind of extended family. Definitely no grandparents, but an uncle would be nice.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.” He has something else to say, she can tell by the way his words fizzle out. She doesn’t push though, just waits.

“You don’t think about going back, do you? To Texas?” Her throat tightens, a quick glance down the hall to check that Ellie’s bedroom door is still closed.

“No, why would I want to?”

“Oh come on, out of the two of us I’d say you’d have an actual reason to.”

“What are you talking about?” Like maybe she could bullshit her way out of this, but he is her brother, after all. He always liked Joel, definitely looked up to him. And he was also one of the only people that knew about their relationship, always willing to cover for her sneaking around, for the flat rate price of a new comic book.

“Not what, who.”

“Will, that’s ancient history. That’s– that’s even past ancient history. It was another life.”

“I know, I just– I always thought you two were gonna be it, you know? Even before that summer, y’all were always something else.”

“Careful, they’ll throw you out of Portland for saying y’all like that.” That gets half a laugh out of him, just enough to drop the subject.

“All this talk of Texas must be getting to me. Anyways, just wanted to call and tell you the big news or whatever.”

“Alright, well, big news aside, it’s always good to hear from you. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Yeah, sis, love you.”

“Love you too.” That’s new, she’s glad for it.

Afternoons, after school, but before dinner, this is her favorite time. Sometimes, Ellie will still let her help with her homework, or at least allow her presence on the edge of her bed while she works, might even answer a few questions about her day or her friends. Eleven going on thirty, or something like that. By the time dinner rolls around, her girl has warmed up to her enough to sit at the kitchen counter while she chops vegetables.

“So, why a cherry tree?”

“Oh, it’s an old story, a friend of mine from a long time ago, not interesting. Hey, I saw the email from the school about career day next week, were you gonna tell me about that?” A quick change of subject, two birds with one stone, really. Ellie’s face scrunches up at her question.

“Yeah, but like, you’re too busy for it anyways.” She barely looks up from her math worksheet as she says it, like no big deal, though Cherry’s stomach immediately sinks.

“Woah, woah, babe, I am absolutely not too busy for that. I’m never too busy for you, what– why do you think that?” Ellie just shrugs, still intent on her fractions.

“Because of the new book and stuff. You’re very preoccupied.” One of her new vocab words for the week, preoccupied, right.

“Els, will you look at me, please? I am never too busy for you, okay? None of that shi–stuff matters more than you do. And I’d really love to go to career day, if you want me to be there.” Ellie seems to consider that proposition, a big burst of relief when she nods.

“Yeah, you’re cooler than a lot of the other parents anyways. They all do boring stuff for work.” She’ll take it, trying to temper her grin at her girl’s small praise as she gets back to prepping dinner. She’ll have to remember to wear long sleeves for career day, not wanting to give the PTA moms any more gossip fodder than they already have about her. Single mom, single writer mom with no family to be heard of. Not a very good look to all those upper-crust types, not that she could give a shit about it. But she doesn’t want her black sheepness to rub off on Ellie, play dates and hang outs to be scheduled and all that, so, definitely long sleeves for career day.

Much later, Ellie in bed reading, and no impending emails or phone calls, Cherry finally takes another look at the tattoo before getting in the shower.

If nothing else, ever, at least this.

…

“So.” She says it all long and drawn out, her hands clasped behind her back as she sways a little in front of his truck, sooooo. It’s dark out by the time they leave the restaurant, both of them a little loose, a little languid from a few glasses of wine, though he’s still sober enough to feel a lick of nerves run up his spine as he tries to figure out what’s the right next move, what normal people do on a date like this.

“Sarah is at Tommy’s for the night, if you don’t have to be home just yet?” No, probably not what normal people do on a first date. But no, not their first date either, not really. And nothing normal about this either, not really. Cherry, smiles, all crooked shadows in the faint glow coming from the restaurant. She really is a sight. He’s been stealing sweeping glances all night, collecting her up in pieces in his mind. The bare skin of her thighs, just a suggestion of it with the slip of her dress. Her dress, he thinks she knows that it’s just a little cruel that she’s wearing that dress judging by the way she moves, shoulders rolled back, always a ghost of a grin like she’s getting away with something. Instinct or just plain impulse to reach out for her, to let his knuckles graze along the neckline of her dress, the smallest shiver when he trails from the sweet plunge up along the slope of her shoulder.

“Ellie was going to a sleepover, so I don’t have to be anywhere until my chauffeur services are needed tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

He is trying, all of his effort, really, to focus on the road when they start driving back to his house. But Cherry isn’t exactly making it easy with the way her hand is splayed on his thigh, and he has to clear his throat when her nails graze along the inseam of his pants.

“Everything alright?” He only glances away for a beat, though it’s enough time to see the smug curl of her smile.

“You– you’re–” His breath hitches before he can finish that thought, Cherry’s knuckles grazing against his already aching cock through his pants, though her hand is gone just as soon, settling lower, just above his knee.

“What am I, baby?”

“I think you know what you are.” Her laugh comes in bells, chirping high as she tips her head back, the shock-white flash of her teeth in the corner of his eye.

“I think you like it.” High, like wings fluttering each word she says. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes still on the road while he reaches across the console for her, his palm slipping from her shoulder up the slope of her neck, fingers curling around her nape and his thumb stroking the hinge of her jaw, his own silent answer, his.

They’re both quiet stepping inside his house, lights off so the rooms are washed down in dark swaths of shadow. Up the stairs and into his room, she doesn’t look at the books this time, all her attention on him.

No need to rush, no need to hide, no need to lie about what this really is. A first for two decades later, they can take their time with each other, because there will be plenty more of it to offer, to receive.

“I thought about you, you know.” He knows that she’s talking about a particular kind of thinking about him, her eyes heavy with it.

“Show me, Cher.” Broken thoughts that somehow still get pieced together, the easy slip of her dress falling around her feet, stepping out of fabric and laying back on his bed. Perfect like this, her knees bent and falling open to the sides. He finds himself sitting down on the edge of the bed, his palm cupping the slope of her calf before sliding down, fingers curling loosely around her ankle. Something to tether him, to convince him that this is real, that all her want is for him. From the start, she was always surprising him, always finding some fresh way to make his head spin. She still is. Propped up on one elbow, her other palm trailing down the center of her chest, pausing there to let her fingers graze against her nipple, the smallest hitch of her breath making his cock pulse. And then lower, his eyes going heavy watching her hand move over the soft clench of her stomach before settling just over her pelvis. Forefinger and middle spreading herself open for him to see, swollen and pearling pleasure, obscene and a little world-ending.

And it’s his name. His name that she whispers when she dips two of her fingers into her cunt, his hand curling a little closer around her ankle at the sight and sound. A slick smear of heat, the way the tendons in her hips jump with the effort of staying splayed for him, slack and then tense all over when the pads of her fingers catch against her clit.

Please, not enough, please, want you. But he wants to see, her preening pleas falling on deaf ears. Because he wants to see how she thought about him all those miles away, years away, and aching for him. And he was aching for her too. Go on, Cher, just like that. She huffs, brow pulling down in a pinch of frustration, but she still allows, the small jump of her wrist, the veins in her hand jittering as two fingers find a stuttered rhythm, her hips tilting into each thrust. And he’s mean for doing this, cruel even, slipping sorry beneath his palm as it skates up her shin, smoothing and soothing. I know, I know, it’s not enough, is it? Never enough he thinks, it was never enough.

“Stop teasing, come here.” Never saying no to her, and he already knows it, making as quick work as he can of the buttons of his shirt, the warm flush of bare skin against bare skin when he finally settles between her legs, one palm splayed next to her temple and the other bunched in the sheets beside her hip. All brilliant machinery, two bodies moving together like they never stopped, her knee hitching up along his hip as his palm slides down along the soft skin of the inside of her thigh. He rests his thumb over her clit, presence more than anything else, though Cherry doesn’t allow that for long, another huff, another don’t tease that he chases after with a hard stamp of a kiss.

And when he finally spreads her open with one shuddering snap of his hips, his breath gets caught in his chest, pleasure finally catching up to him and crackling down his spine. His mouth rests open and wanting below the dip of her clavicle, the slight press of skin that comes with each of her inhales, like a bird beating around in her ribs, short and stuttered and certain.

Quiet whispers, need you to move, baby, that word never failing to snare his mind, all he can do to give her what she wants with a slow roll of his hips that’s already turning greedy in the way he grinds into the plush of her ass at the end, a high sound stopping itself in the back of her throat.

And no, not taking their time, both of them growing desperate for that tight furl of pleasure settling between them. Just a little obscene in the way the bed scrapes against the floor with every thrust, the sound melding and mixing with the breathy little moans Cherry can’t seem to stop, not that he would want her to. He groans when he reaches between them to thumb at her clit, her cunt dripping around him, a dizzying flutter of heat that he wants more of. And when Cherry says more, right there something snaps in him, animal, incessant in the way he slips his palms under the swell of her ass, lifting her hips up so her thighs rest over his, fucking up into her from his haunches, strong enough that he can do that now, move and make her with his hands like this. Pulled taut, her body one long line of pleasure, he watches the perfect tendons in her throat jump with a whine of his name.

It’s a devastating heat when she does come, spine arching before she slumps down in his grasp. He stills inside her, a whimper in her throat when his hips absent-mindedly shift against hers. C’mere, c’mere, pulling him down, her palms running up his sides before slipping over his shoulders, mapping him out as she catches her breath.

“I love you so much, Joel.” The sound he makes is pathetic at best, a little broken battering in his ribs. And he should ask if she’s good, if he can, if it’s okay for him to, but he needs it so bad, needs her so bad that he’s already finding that rhythm again, harsh breaths with each thrust. Not far behind her, not with the way she’s murmuring all her want into his ear, something that sounds like love when that pleasure finally snaps and shimmers under his skin.

Perfect like this in the after, holding onto each other, mouths finding whatever slip of skin they can, kissing it better.

“It’s you and me, Cher. I love you.” Her fingers still in their gentle sweep through his hair, a little tug to get his eyes up to hers.

“Plus two.” Confused at first, he has to laugh when his brain catches up to what she’s saying.

“Right, you and me, plus two.”

…

Her least favorite time of the day, or night, really. Ellie asleep, just her and the blinking cursor in her word document. It’s about this time every night that it settles back in under her skin. She doesn’t know what to call it. Loneliness feels pitiful, and patently untrue because she has her girl, and that’s all she needs. It’s like an ache, like a physical lack that she manages to forget about in all the fret and fuss of the day, still there, still sore.

Tonight, something particular to soothe that ache. That damn web page, and that damn photo of him. Different, older, but still him. A small part of her, a young part, wonders if he has read her books, if he’s seen her photo on the dust jackets and traced all the small nicks and nips of time the same way that she does now, her face pressed close to the screen of her computer to collect up any new detail.

She quits while she’s ahead, sigh, shut the whole thing off, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes to try to stamp out the picture of him.

An ache, a want, that has been there for nearly two decades. When Will had told her about their parents moving out of Austin, hope had been quick to flicker up and around her ribs, a silly thing. Silly to ache like this, to want like this, to presume that he’s been waiting around for her.

She’s been waiting for him though, she realizes. Wanting for him. So would it be so crazy to think that, maybe, he’s been wanting for her too?

........................................

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

Text

The DUFF 4

Warnings: groping, insecurity, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

The prospect of doing your walk of shame is intimidating. You try to plot how exactly to skulk home as you search for your panties. It’s the only piece you’re missing. You have your skirt on, your shirt, bra, even both your shoes. Goddamn, they couldn’t have got that far.

You grab your purse and check inside. Of course they’re not there but you want to make sure you have everything. As your keys jingle noisily within, Curtis pokes his head out from the kitchen. You didn’t even realise he was in there.

“Off already?” He asks, “I was just about to start breakfast.”

You stop short as you look at him. That’s not exactly how these things work, is it? You clasp your purse shut and let it dangle from your elbow.

“Breakfast? Well, uh, I guess…”

“I don’t mind. You like smoothies?”

You remember all the times Stephanie complained about a guy sticking around too long. Or how Isla called her last boy toy a stage five clinger because he wanted a kiss. Were you doing this all wrong?

You meet his eyes. A cornflower blue so soft and pale you could sink into them like water. It’s an innocent offer. You feel bad just racing out but it seems just as awkward to stay. Still, you feel like you owe him.

“Sure,” you answer, “I like smoothies.”

“Bacon? Oh, shi–oot, you vegetarian? I got tofu, too.”

“Bacon’s fine, really,” you assure him, “is there anything I can help with?”

“Help? No, no, you’re a guest, just… sit down and relax. I’ll take care of you, bunny.”

You mull over his insistence. He’s being a good host but you can’t help but wonder why. He’s almost too nice to be true. Are you missing something?

“Everything okay?” He startles you as he touches your arm gently. You can’t help but wince.

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, “it’s fine, I just… I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Not at all. Please.”

You can’t argue with him. Not when he’s being so nice. You can’t complain for the night you spent with him. What’s another hour?

You retreat to the living room and take out your phone. You still haven’t heard from the other girls. That’s not really unusual but it’s not often you split up for the night. You typically keep a sort of buddy system. You feel a bit forgotten.

You sit on the couch as you scroll then pause and look down. You remember last night, right in this spot. You swear you can feel him still, hear his sultry growl as he coaxes you. You still can’t believe it.

You never thought you were the one to fall for sweet words, yet you never had the opportunity before to prove that true. You melted like sugar at his first touch.

The blender whirs, followed by the noise of his cooking. You tuck yourself into the corner of the couch and try to distract yourself with a game of solitaire. You’re hungry but almost too nervous to eat. You’re not sure you’ll even be able to keep any of it down.

He emerges with a tall glass, a dark purple smoothie that he places on the table next to your elbow.

“I hope you don’t mind blueberry. Guess I should’ve asked.”

“It’s fine, thanks,” you assure him.

“Anything else?”

“No, no, that’s good.”

“Well, let me know. Anything you want, bunny.”

You smile and nod as you lift the smoothie. There it is again; bunny. It’s adorable but you’re not too sure about it. Pet names aren’t entirely warranted after a single night. You think. You need to stop acting like you know everything because quite clearly you’re clueless.

You sip through your straw as he goes back to the kitchen. You flick your finger up and close the card game. You can’t even win against yourself. The smoothie is delicious. You nearly drink half of it before you catch yourself.

You set the glass down on a wooden coaster and steady your phone. You flip through your contacts; Stephanie, Isla, Mindy… You should text them, make sure they’re okay.

“Here we go,” Curtis interrupts your indecision.

You put your phone down, tilting it on the popsocket as you look up at him. He carries in two plates and places them on the low coffee table. He stands and glances around.

“I have TV trays. Sorry, I’ve been tryna get outta this place. Somewhere a little more roomy.”

“It’s okay, really. My place is tiny compared to this.”

“This one’s yours,” he takes a plate and a keeps the cutlery from slipping off, “hope you like sunny side up.”

“It’s wonderful,” you affirm.

You admire the sliced avocado and the rye bread. The bacon looks like it’s turkey and his own plate only has egg whites. You can’t help but feel a bit self-conscious. You don’t often have such a healthy breakfast.

You balance the plate on your lap and grab the cutlery. You get yourself situated and your phone buzzes loudly as he sits beside you. You glance over at your phone and quickly swipe away the call with your finger. You’ll call them back later.

You go to slice into your eggs as Curtis clears his throat. You focus on carving out a small bite, not enough to make you seem piggish.

“So, who’s Andy?” He asks.

Hsi tone carries an unexpected edge. You peek over at him then shake your head. You’re confused.

“That’s who called. Boyfriend? He’s okay with you going out?” He prods tersely as his knife hits the plate sharply.

“Boyfriend?” You laugh anxiously, “no, I don’t— he’s my boss. Probably had a call-in.”

“Ah,” he nods and you hear his breath, each one measured. You don’t know why he’d care enough to ask.

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #dark!curtis everett #drabble #au #series #the DUFF #snowpiercer

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starkeyboy · 2 years

Text

stupid joke

jeremiah fisher x reader

there’s a slight connie x reader but more of a brother sister type bond. he cares for her

i watched as jeremiah laughed along with belly, her touching his arm and his head falling back as the joke got funnier, i guess. personally, the joke wasn’t even that funny.

but that was supposed to be me.

i was supposed to be laughing at the joke jeremiah said. i was supposed to be touching his arm and having his head fall back at a stupid joke. but it’s not me.

he’s in love with belly and i was just his best friend.

my thoughts were interrupted when conrad decided to sit down next to me, setting down a fruit bowl, a classic of susan’s.

“my mom thought you looked sad so she made you a bowl, you’re favorite,” conrad said. i mixed the berry’s and granola into the smoothie and sighed. i looked over to conrad and he had this knowing look.

“i came this summer to hang out with jere but he’s laughing his ass off with belly about a joke, a stupid one, and i’m sitting here watching it all.” he nodded and looked over at them and shook his head.

“you wanna know a secret?” he questioned looking back over to me. i tilted my head to the side confused as what this secret could be, because i know he has a lot, considering he’s been quiet this whole summer.

“jeremiah isn’t in love with belly, yeah belly gives jere the attention that he wants but really, he’s in love with you, he doesn’t know that yet though.”

“he doesn’t know it yet?” i was genuinely confused.

“don’t be stupid y/n, whenever you’re not around, hes always questioning where you’re at and he makes sure you’re in sight when we’re at parties. and let’s not forget that he asked mom how to make the fruit bowls so he can bring you them in the morning.” conrad gave this knowing look again.

i looked back over to jeremiah and belly to see that they moved on from their joke and were just talking casually, comfortably. a little too comfortable for my liking. belly now brushing her finger on his face to wipe something away. jere looking away, red in the cheeks.

“if he wants me around all the time, why am i here, and not there?” i get up to leave conrad, annoyed at him trying to get in my head and gaslight me, to make me feel better.

“y/n-”

“i’m done talking about this con, why should i love him when he clearly loves her?” i cut him off and walked away.

susan was in the kitchen cutting fruit when she saw me.

“i’m guessing the fruit bowl didn’t help?” she said, worried. i grabbed some plastic wrap to put on it and put in the fridge.

“i’m sorry susan, i don’t think i’m feeling great, but i’m saving it for tomorrow morning, i promise.” i looked back at her and i closed the fridge. she smiled and nodded and i headed up to the designated room for me. it was smaller than the rest because i don’t come every summer. but susan didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable with me staying with belly since i didn’t know her.

nor am i a fan of her. she took away my best friend every summer. and the summers i come, it’s usually me and him. and belly. never just me and him. and this summer just felt different. it felt like it’s was just for jeremiah and belly. not me included. just them. it honestly felt like a stupid joke to me. a joke that i didn’t find amusing.

…

i had fallen asleep after my talk with conrad and wanting the day to be over with. the image of belly and jere still burning in my head. i remember belly having braces and big glasses every summer that i came but this year she looked different. she looked…pretty. that’s why jeremiah likes her all of a sudden. she finally hit puberty and grew. when i hit puberty, i was 11 and grew boobs when i was 14. but that never caught jeremiah’s attention.

why was i in love with jere-

“good morning sleepy head!” i was interrupted by the man himself. i opened my eyes to jeremiah waltzing into the room with a smoothie bowl in his hands. i sighed as i sat up. “i made your favorite!” he smiled at me and stared into my tired eyes with his, a spitting image of the ocean.

“i promised your mom i would have hers this morning, she made me it yesterday,” i said as i got up from behind him and walked to the bathroom. i saw a flash in his face that turned into a frown. slightly.

“but i made you this, today. you usually prefer mine, right?” he looked genuinely confused.

“jere, i promised. you know how i take my promises.” and i closed the door on him. taking a deep breath not wanting to freak out. i’m never like this with him.

when i walked downstairs for breakfast, i grabbed the fruit bowl that susan made, still keeping that promise. but when i finished and rinsed the bowl out, i saw the bowl that jere made. rinsed and thrown away.

jeremiah, conrad, steven and belly were all on the couch playing video games. well, belly watching, right next to jere. i sighed and sat next to con and leaned my head on his shoulder.

“you okay?” he asked. i nodded slightly and just closed my eyes.

“can we talk later?” i leaned up to whisper into his ear. conrad looked at me and he saw the tears welling up in my eyes. he nodded and threw the controller at belly. she got startled and caught it. that caught jeremiah’s attention. his eyes landed on my teary ones.

“y/n, what’s wrong?” he questioned and conrad got me up from the couch and started to take me to his room.

“i got it jere,” con blankly said as we passed him. jeremiah face dropping more as he wasn’t the one comforting me this time.

jeres pov

i looked at belly with fear written all over me. was i losing my best friend? what did i do?

“did i do something wrong?” i asked as steven paused the game seeing as i wasn’t going back to playing.

“can you think of something that you did wrong?” belly said. i shrugged and sighed.

“you’ve should’ve seen her when i woke her up. i make her a smoothie bowl every now and then but she wanted moms. she always prefers mine. it’s thicker.” i admitted. steven now struggling. “she did promise mom”

“well you know how y/n is about her promises, she keeps them. make her one tomorrow, she’ll probably take it.” steven said. i sighed and leaned my head back.

“maybe she feels left out,” belly blurted out. i shot my head up to her and furrowed my eyebrows.

“why would she feel left out, she’s with me all the time. and we never get tired of each other…maybe sometimes but still,” i said to her. going back to the beginning of summer and us hanging out. but i was thinking the last time we hung out. just the day before. tanning outside by the pool.

“maybe i should see if she wants to hangout when taylor comes later today, maybe she just needs some girl time, away from you boys.” i shrugged and told her to give it a try.

“but why conrad?” i asked as it occurred to me. belly’s face frowned at that. i knew belly always had a thing for con, everyone knew that. even conrad. and it hurts to know that he’s hurting her. i mean yeah, i had a thing for belly a few summers ago but man belly is hard for conrad.

“maybe she just finds a different comfort in him,” steven wiggled his eyebrows. i grimaced and made a throwing up sound.

“she would never, she told me never conrad,” i told him.

“you never know jere, you never know” he replied back.

“when we pick taylor up, i’ll ask if she wants to hang out with us. nicole invited us to the boat on friday, maybe we can do it then, let her breath for a bit maybe.” belly said changing the subject. i nodded, thinking that would be a good idea.

y/ns pov

conrad sat me on his bed as he sat down next to me, pulling me into his arms.

“what did he do this time?”

i looked up at him and shook my head. “he didn’t do anything this time. i just wish i was her,” i said sniffling. he sighed as he brushed my tears away.

“if you makes you feel better, i kind of wish i was him.” i smiled a bit seeing how he understood what i was feeling.

i wrapped my arms around his middle and sighed.

“do you love belly, con?” i asked quietly, hoping no one else can hear. i felt him sigh and hesitate to answer.

“i don’t know how to express love for people, honestly. like i like nicole but i don’t see anything else but a fuck maybe.” i made a face and he could tell. he laughed a bit. “but that’s the thing. i like belly, but i see a lot more than everything else with her.” i looked up to him and smiled fondly at him.

“that’s kind of what you said about jere. you’re in love with belly, you just don’t it yet.” i said as i moved a piece of hair from his face. i could tell he was thinking and i gently leaned up to kiss his cheek. in a friendly manner. “i’m gonna go to my room to relax,” i finished as i got up. he looked up at me and nodded.

“thank you,” he quickly said as i was about to exit the room. i furrowed my eyebrows. “for making me realize i can love someone.” i smiled as i nodded.

“it’s the least i can do” and i exited to my room.

…

i was in my room scrolling through tik tok when there was a small knock on my door. nobody knocks in this house. except for conrad.

i sat up and said a quiet come in, thinking he wanted to talk. but when the door opened, i saw belly.

“oh,” i was surprised. why was she needing to speak with me. “hey belly.” i only said.

“hey, jere and i are about to pick up taylor. but um, we wanted to see if you wanted to go?” i looked at her shocked that she was the one that came up to ask.

“i think i’ll stay actually,” i replied back, fixing my pillow up.

“oh okay, i have one more question though,” i nodded. “nicole invited us to her boat on friday. taylor and i were thinking of going, do you wanna go? girls night? let the boys have a night at a party?” i thought about it. was this jere just wanting us to get along. so they can date. or did she genuinely want to hang out. i looked up to her and saw sincerness in her eyes saying please.

“okay, i’ll go.” she smiled.

“awesome, i’ll let jere and steven know!” she said excitedly. i sighed as she left. why did i agree.

…

it was friday. supposedly the best day according to jeremiah.

“you’re only saying that because we won’t be around much longer, jeremy,” taylor said with a smirk. she has a thing for jeremiah as well. but i heard steven and her had a thing too.

“am not, i love handing out with my girl,” jeremiah said putting his arm around my shoulder. my eyes widened at my girl. his girl. was i his girl? he’s never said that.

“according to the look on y/ns face, she didn’t know that she’s your girl,” i heard steven say as he walked into the kitchen.

“pfft, she’s always known this, right?” he said looking down at me. i just smiled and patted his chest. quietly saying sure, walking away.

“i’m gonna go get ready for the boat,” i say. i heard taylor gasp as she grabbed my wrist.

“let’s all get ready together, me, you and belly!” she explained. i was about to say no, wanting privacy but she was already walking me up the stairs to bellys room.

…

i decided to wear my bright pink two piece that i haven’t worn in a while, with a white linen dress as a cover up, trying to keep it casual with some sandals. my hair was in a claw clip, with hair peaking out.

“y/n, you look really pretty,” i heard belly said. i look at her and smiled softly at her kindness. i thanked her and went down stairs to get some water.

jeremiah was at the counter, wiping dishes down, susan probably asking him to since she’s been pretty tired lately. he looked up from the sound of my sandles clicking and he smiled at me.

“well don’t you look beautiful,” he said fondly. he was being so affectionate all of a sudden. what changed? was he in love with belly?

“thank you jere,” i said as i grabbed a water and sat on the stools at the counter, looking at him.

“you know, i’m gonna miss you at the party,” he stated. i raised my eyebrows saying oh really. “why wouldn’t i, you’re the best partner in beer pong, will sing summer nights with me and let’s not forget the amazing night swims we have when we get back,” he said happily. i smiled slightly thinking about all the party we’ve been this summer. feels like we’ve been to more parties than any other summer.

“i guess i’ll miss you when i’m with the girls,” i said acting as if i was joking. he smiled at me and dried his hands off. he set his hands down on the counter and looked at me. really looked at me. i know he can read right through me.

“text me, no, call me if anything goes wrong. i’ll speed just to make sure you’re safe.” he said seriously. i looked into his eyes. trying to find why he was being so caring. so protective.

“i promise jere.”

right before he was able to say anything, taylor interrupted him and asked if i was ready. i looked at her and my eyes went back to him and i smiled softly and nodded.

“we’ll see you later Jeremy,” taylor taunts. i rolled my eyes getting fed up with it, knowing jeremiah doesn’t like it.

right before i was able to leave his sight he grabbed my wrist softly. i looked at him questioning why the sudden stop.

“meet me at the dock after you get back,” he said referring to the pergola. i waited a bit to answer. nervous on why he wanted to talk. but i only nodded my head and walk away from his grasp. holy shit.

…

“never have i ever…made out with jeremiah?” i sighed at this stupid game. of course us girls, honestly i didn’t want to, us 16-18 year old girls were playing a middle school game.

belly and taylor layed a finger down and giggled a bit. gigi gasping in a surprise asking questions about how it was.

“shouldn’t we do something that maybe middle schoolers don’t do?” i asked out of know where. shocked at myself for speaking up. everyone stopped what they were doing and looked around as if i wasn’t there. i rolled my eyes and looked at belly and taylor for help. taylor nodded, catching on that i wasn’t into this game at all.

“she’s right, this shit is for middle schoolers.” she said. i looked over at the others and by the look on their eyes. they disagreed. but nicole spoke up.

“then let’s go skinny dipping, college students do that,” she said. i nearly choked on my own spit. i looked at her with wide eyes. “cat got your tongue, y/n,” she said laughing a bit. i narrowed my eyes and sighed.

“fine. let’s go skinny dipping,” i finalized. and everyone got up to go to a secluded dock.

…

the skinny dipping wasn’t too bad, we all felt free. but it was the part where conrad texted belly something and nicole saw it and all the others decided to leave. and take our clothes. i had tears in my eyes. this was why i don’t hang out with other girls. they’re rude and selfish and get too into their heads. i would know. i’m one of them.

“y/n, are you okay?” i head belly quietly say next to me on the dock. my arms were holding me up and i was staring out beyond me, tears falling. i looked over at her and let out a sob and shook my head. “i’ll call jere,” i only nodded and put my head down. i felt stupid.

jeremiah’s pov

i was next to conrad, talking with some other friends when my phone started buzzing. i looked down to see belly was calling.

“give me one second,” i said as i stepped away.

“hello?”

“jere, we need you to come pick us up.” i furrowed my eyebrows at the urgency.

“is everyone okay? is y/n okay?” i asked as i got worried. was y/n hurt?

“we’re okay but nicole and the girls left y/n, taylor and i in the pond. naked. they took our clothes. and y/n. she’s scared jeremiah.” i felt fury fall over me. i told her conrad and i will be there. i grabbed him and started to drag him out the door. bumping into nicole.

y/ns pov

we sat on a curb with a boat cover covering our bodies, waiting for jere and con. my head was resting on belly’s shoulder as tears still flowed. i’ve never felt more embarrassed.

2 headlights shown before us and jere and connie were walking out second’s after. we all got up, careful not to drop the cover. the boys held the cover as we changed, me sniffling every now and then.

“do you guys mind if i ride with jere alone?” i asked quietly. they looked up and smiled softly.

“of course we don’t, we know you need him right now.” belly said and finished putting her shorts on.

as i was done, i walked around and went to jeremiah. he saw we were all done and looked at me, letting go of the cover. i rushed into his arms and felt safe. he held me close to him as i settled into him, finally feeling like ease. his hand was on my back as he rubbed it softly, whispering in my ear that everything was okay. he lead me to the car as i looked over, belly, taylor and conrad were getting into the jeep.

jeremiah opened the door for me and when he got in, he reached into the back to grab a sweatshirt.

“here, you were freezing when i hugged you,” he smiled at me softly and i smiled a little back through the tears. i put it over me and i felt even more relief. i looked up at him to see he was already staring at me. into me. he looked concerned, scared.

“are you okay, jere?” i asked as i pulled my hand up and pushed some hair out of his face. he leaned into my touch and sighed.

“i got so worried when belly told me what happened,” he said softly. “and when she told me you were scared and crying, i immediately left and went to you.” he looked at me and had tears in his eyes. i looked at him in shocked and sighed. i leaned over and brought him into a hug.

“jere?” he pulled away as i questioned him. he looked into my eyes and brought his hand up to brush my tears that were left over. he waited for me to finish my question. i looked down at our hands, they were intertwined. his other hand brought my head up to look at him, his eyes staring into mine again. “are you in love with belly?” i confessed. he looked at me confused for a second.

“what?” he looked genuinely confused. my eyes started to water again as i thought of the all the summer days. seeing him with belly and laughing. belly taking away my jeremiah. “why would you think that?”

“please jere, please dont make it like its a stupid joke,” i pleaded as more tears fell to my face. his face fell as he saw i was being serious. “please” i whispered.

“y/n, ive only been in love with you.” he said. his hands come up to hold my face. “there has been nobody in this world that can make me smile genuinely, that can make me laugh so hard that im crying. youre the only one that can shivers to my body when you touch my arms. y/n, you are it. youve always been it.” he confessed, all while holding my head gently in his hands. more tears fell from my eyes as he kept going on and on.

“but you and belly, the other day at the pool. you were laughing at a joke so hard youre head flew back because something was so funny, and she kept touching your arm and you were blush-” i was cut off with jeremiahs lips on mine. jere was kissing me. i was shocked at first but when his thumb brushed over my cheek, i softend. i melted into him. my hands came up to grip his wrist as he deepened the kiss. this was everything i wanted. jeremiah kissing me, holding me.

he pulled away slowly and looked into my eyes. “y/n?” he said. i hummed, still feeling like i was in a dream. “I'm not gonna say you sound stupid saying that, but you do,’’ he smiled softly. “I've never been in love with belly. that joke we were laughing at was stupid. really stupid. but was i laughing with tears in my eyes? no. did belly give me chills when she touched my arms? absolutely not. and it was hot, y/n, so my cheeks were red. my whole body was red probably. y/n, what im trying to say is that belly is fun but she's never gonna be my #1 girl or the love of my life. only you. you're my girl.” he finished as he was still staring deep into my eyes.

i was in disbelief. i was reading it all wrong. he wasnt in love with belly. he was in love with me. we were in love with each other.

“jeremiah fisher,’‘ i started as i kept my hands on his wrist, not wanting to let go. “im in love with you too.” i finally confessed. i got it out. i told my best friend that i was in love with him. i looked at him as i waited for his reaction. he smiled finally and pulled me back into his lips.

“gosh i love you,” he mumbled into me. i smiled against him and pulled away.

“what do we do now?” i questioned. he looked at me still and pecked my lips quickly.

“theres nothing to do, ive always been yours. and youll always be mine, no matter what.” i smiled and pulled him into the most loving hug.

“i love you jere, so much.”

“i love you too, y/n, more than youll ever know,” he said pecking my neck. “also, youre sleeping in my room tonight, not that small ass room.” i laughed and nodded. just happy hes fully mine now. not bellys. not taylors. not gigis. mine.

maybe all this wasnt a stupid joke.

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty #jeremiah fisher smut #conrad fisher smut

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sunboki · 9 months

Text

NOT proofread. just wanted to indulge<3

comfort when rooming with best friends!changbin and chan include making breakfast together. whether you like it or not, thanks to changbin’s current (and long running) obsession with healthy eating, the dorm is always in a bustle in the mornings, air steaming with the scent of good food and music hummed over the mini alexa.

initially, waking up from his cooking was dreaded, especially on your few days off where you got the chance to sleep in. but after a while, you got used to it. used to being spoiled by yummy food and curly haired cutie—both chris and changbin—in the kitchen, that is.

occasionally, changbin would leave the living room exhausted and flop himself onto your bed, collectively scaring the shit out of you while cuddling up to your side, whining about how hard he worked while you sleepily run your hands through his messy locks, nodding and sympathizing with him as if he was a toddler. he loves every second of it.

in actuality, chris hadn’t joined changbin’s morning cooking till a few weeks ago. usually, he’d hit the gym early and end up coming back when changbin had already finished, but come recently he‘s been waking up around the same time—evident from the adorably squeaky laughter you’ll hear and playful arguments outside your door, bickering about a topic you couldn’t guess or giggling at their phones.

so on the days you get up during their kitchen fiasco, you’re quickly steered by hands on your hips or shoulders while the boys maneuver you around or beckon you to sit on one of the stools to “look pretty and be our encouragement.” chris’ words, not yours.

“yah! it says two cups!” the shorter man shouts despite being not even two feet away from his helper, pointing a finger while his friend measures the protein powder into a bowl.

“i put in two cups! right y/n?” chris raises his hands up, brows lifted innocently. the two turn to you, arms crossed over their chest expectantly.

“i saw two cups, binnie. either way, a little more protein won’t hurt, yeah?” you grin, watching the gears turn in his head from the comment while chris chokes a laugh on the side.

walking around the curve of the counter to stand beside you, changbin meets your eyes with a pout on his lips, deep brown eyes blinking up at you like a kicked puppy.

you run a daycare. you’re quite sure of it. one’s five, the one pouting in front of you is three.

“am i losing my muscles?” he whines, face screwed up in an exaggerated pouty face. you coo mockingly, reaching to pat his cheeks reassuringly while a smile takes over your features.

“nooo, never. ‘m just kidding binnie, you’re positively jacked my love,” you say, witnessing his ego being stroked in real time. chris gags somewhere in the background.

the twenty-three year old three year old lights up, giving you the biggest, most crushing hug ever from your place on the stool, basically bouncing with excitement.

to say his mood was fixed was an understatement. the man utterly sang with delight to every song after that (not like he didn’t before, just more dramatic now), randomly sneaking over to pull you into his arms a good six more times before they finished cooking—faces and clothing stained with ingredients all over.

and occasionally, very, very occasionally, you feel glad you woke up early to experience this, no matter how chaotic it is. even with changbin’s crushing hugs and chris’ tight lipped smile while he holds back the urge to vomit trying the smoothie changbin made for him, you feel glad.

it’s six in the morning, and while lots of people around campus are dead to the world, your dorm has never felt so alive.

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untaemedqueen · 1 year

Text

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Series Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor, Unexpected Pregnancy, Almost Instalove, Instalust

Warnings For This Chapter: Morbidity, Dark Humor

Chapter 2.

The start of your morning always begins with a shot of espresso on your back patio and a look through of the past week's sales.

This morning, unfortunately for you, you can't possibly start off your day as usual. Not when Namjoon is standing on your doorstep at the crack of fucking dawn.

Even with his hands held up high with a brown paper bag full of freshly baked blueberry muffins from Angostinos and the other carefully carrying smoothies, he still has a gigantic smile plastered onto his face.

"Good morning!" Namjoon beams, brushing right past you into your sterile mansion.

"What's so good about it?" you grumble, placing your hand over your eyes like a vampire witnessing the sun for the first time in their life.

You slowly shut the door, notes of Joon's high pitched whistling floating through one ear and out the other with constant consistency.

It is in fact very odd that the tall, handsome man is in your home at the moment. Namjoon has always respected your private life and he never intrudes, never.

So on a Friday morning, with breakfast in hand is quite frankly bizarre.

"Why are you here?" you inquire, stepping into the open kitchen and leaning against the grand black marble pillar while your co-worker arranges breakfast on a plate.

"I can't bring you breakfast?" he chirps, sliding his sunglasses up and over his head until his hair is perfectly placed beneath them.

He's probably here to be nosy.

"No. It's illegal. Why are you here?" you ask again.

He stops arranging the muffins to look up at you slowly. He can hear the morning scratchiness of your throat with each word and he can certainly feel your demonic gaze piercing through his three piece suit.

Even now as you lean against the pillar, your black silk robe that trails along the cold, stone flooring is billowing around you like you're a goddess of deadly destruction.

Swallowing thickly, Namjoon averts his gaze when his eyes begin to trail over the one exposed leg that peeks out from beneath your robe.

"I came over to see how the escort thing went."

Bingo.

Call a horse a horse and it'll gallop all the way to the finish line for you.

"It went fine," you reply, walking over to one of the hard, stylistic black barstools and tentatively sitting.

There's no person on Earth that could sit down on this thing for more than ten seconds without getting a bruised coccyx and maybe a genital ache.

"So you picked a guy then?"

God's favorite pet project is acting just a bit too needy for you so early in the morning. Whenever he acts like this at work you can always just have a glass of wine and breathe, but without your espresso -- it's a buzzkill.

"Yes. His name is Jeongguk."

Joon can tell you're being curt and snippy now but when are you not?

So like always, he pushes past it.

"Got a picture? I'm curious to see what your type is. Does he look like me? Is he my long lost twin?"

You can only roll your eyes as you demurely point at the binder you took home at the far end of the bar.

Joon suddenly perks up at the thought of seeing multiple candidates and he's off in a split second.

"Make me an espresso while you be nosy."

"It's not my house," he murmurs, looking around.

"Figure it out, you woke me up," you breathe, looking down at your perfect nails.

"He looks like a fuckboy," Joon muses, sipping his smoothie.

Looking up from your espresso, you simply shrug. "He was very polite when I met him."

Fucking hot too.

"So he's willing to go with you to this wedding? You told him everything about it?" he inquires, brushing some of the muffin crumbs off the table into his hand and sprinkling them back onto his plate.

"He's coming over tonight to talk about some sort of game plan so I'd say so," you reply.

Namjoon's eyebrows furrow and his features give away almost immediately how much he hates that idea. "What? That's dangerous! You don't even know this dude and he's coming over to your house!?"

"You worry too much," you offer, patting him on the shoulder.

In all reality, you hadn't really thought about that. You were too entranced by how fucking hot Jeongguk was in that small office during the interview.

You acted like a child, really. It was like you've never seen an attractive human before and honestly… it really showed.

"Do you want me to come over after work and make sure he won't do anything?" Joon offers.

"No," you reply quickly, shaking your head.

He isn't your father. He doesn't need to just show up and you certainly won't embarrass Jeon Jeongguk like that.

"This is professional. And it will remain as such," you promise, sipping your espresso.

Unfortunately.

With a groan, Guk sets down the bar of weights above him.

"Nice, you're getting fucking strong, dude. You can lift more than you weigh." Jimin, his best friend chirps, tossing him a towel.

The escort catches it easily, patting his face gently as he sits up on the bench. "Yeah, I've been getting into working out more and more lately."

"Ever since Chloe?" Taehyung inquires, shaking his protein drink.

Just the sound of her name makes the youngest nauseous. "Chill out."

Jimin holds his hands up innocently before grabbing his gym bag with a sigh. "Got any jobs lately? Women don't want random dick anymore, man. They all want relationships and love and… commitment."

Tae snorts softly as he swallows the thick protein shake.

"I have a client I'm meeting in a few hours. I'm going to a wedding with her." Jeongguk announces, fixing his tank top in the mirror and flexing his biceps.

If his best friends were dogs, their ears would be perking up and their heads would be tilting at his admission.

"Oh really?!" Jimin drolls, draping himself over the bench press and looking at the youngest through the mirror.

"Yeah. She seems really nice," Guk shrugs, grabbing his dress shirt from the hook beside him.

"Is she hot?" Tae inquires with a sly smile, resting his elbow atop Jeongguk's shoulder.

The escort doesn't know how to reply. Most of the time when he hangs out with his best friends he himself is never under their gaze and questions are never barreled at him, he somehow always avoids it by switching the subject back to them.

But now, he has to answer.

When he first saw you in the meeting room guzzling your champagne with awkward, quick moving eyes, he found himself fond of how unsure you were. You were dressed head to toe in thousands of dollars worth of clothes and yet, you carried yourself like someone making little money.

He actually liked that.

It isn't everyday that a client seems down to Earth. It's been a long time since he hasn't felt on edge at a first meeting.

Were you hot though?

You certainly were attractive. You carried yourself well. You made him want to help get your payback immediately.

"Yeah, she was pretty cute," he admits nonchalantly.

"Just cute?"

Oh Christ.

Enough.

"I gu-"

"Leave him alone!" Jimin chortles, patting Guk on the back, "You know how he gets."

Thank God.

The youngest never talks about clients. Not anymore and he'd like to keep it that way.

While you were basically just an enigma wrapped in Balenciaga, Guk should determine on his own if he'd like to figure you out -- without the help of Hell's own personal gatekeepers.

His eyes skim over the practically empty gym until he finds the large clock on the wall.

"I actually have to start heading out. I have to meet up with Y/N in a bit."

The others exchange a look when he speaks your name softly and it's almost too hard to keep their smiles contained.

If they can count on one thing, it'll be that if Jeongguk really does find an interest in you they'll be sure to hear about it the next time they see him.

Entering your home after a long day of work, you find it very hard to do almost anything.

You don't cook for yourself, you don't clean, you don't get to sit down and relax and watch television.

You simply just… exist.

Today is the same.

Although, in just a little while, the handsome man you're paying to come to an event with you will be doing the exact same thing.

For the first time in a long time you feel bad.

He'll have to sit on embarrassingly hard furniture and stare at medically clean marble walls.

There's nothing to keep someone entertained in this house -- not even you.

You think about the backyard, how perfectly trimmed and neat it is with the black flower bushes and the white roses and maybe that's the place you'll take him. Maybe he'll find that you have some substance while you're back there.

Setting down your purse on the counter, you ponder what to do to make Jeongguk feel welcome.

It's not his fault you're dead inside, it's no one's fault really no one but the two little slimy fucks that are getting married.

It seems you mull it over for almost too long because the doorbell rings while you're deep in thought. The rich, meaty sound echoes throughout the empty, vastness of your mansion and it suddenly sends you into a panic.

"Oh fuck!" you gasp, turning around in circles like a madman as you smooth out your dress.

Your hands fly to your hair, trying to smooth it out without even having a reflective surface to truly make sure you look presentable.

When you waltz by the screen that shows you who's at the door, you're almost floored immediately.

This is only the second time you're seeing him now but he's just as handsome as the first time. He's taking in the mansion before him, looking around at everything like it's a grandiose amusement park and he isn't even inside yet.

There's something cute about it if you're being honest, the way he's staring at the fourteen foot tall double doors with his jaw practically on the ground makes you smirk even the slightest bit.

You stop your fiddling, leaving your long, sweeping black gown alone and your hands don't even reach for a strand of your hair.

It's almost like he's a siren and you're completely still and calm with him in your sights.

Taking a deep breath, you round the corner and open up the double doors with very little flourish.

"Hi," you chirp softly.

Finally, Guk picks his jaw up off the floor and he gives you a smile that's practically Earth shattering.

"Hey," he breathes, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder.

Within seconds you're turning back into that awkward, ridiculous woman you were during your first meeting a few days ago.

You take him in for a second, appreciating the thick steel chain hanging around his neck and the perfectly ironed dress shirt that he's wearing.

He looks perfect if you're being honest. So perfect that your only reaction is to turn right on your heels and march back into your sterile mansion for some sort of comfort.

Guk follows behind you, closing the doors and ogling at every little thing he sees.

"Selling wine pays well," Jeongguk gasps, whistling at the art pieces he sees.

There's the faint sound of opera bleeding through the mausoleum walls that buffers out the cold silence.

"I… um… I didn't pick up anything for dinner, if-if you're hungry," you announce, grabbing the champagne bottle and two stemless glasses.

"Oh! We can order whatever you like. That'll actually be helpful for me, I'll get to see your favorite type of food and make a note of it for when we go to the wedding," the escort replies.

This is work.

The fucking wedding.

You're really getting flustered up over someone you're paying to go with you someplace?!

Get a grip.

"Good idea," you breathe, chuckling awkwardly as you make your way to the vast backyard.

"Holy shit, this is beautiful." Jeongguk gawks, looking over the perfectly cut hedges and blooming flowers.

If he had to guess, he'd say you were a neat freak. There's not a speck of dust or a single crumb throughout your entire mansion and it makes him wonder.

Most clients he meets to find out more about them, it's merely just a formality.

But he's genuinely curious about you.

He's interested in how someone like you thinks and how you go about life.

"Please sit," you offer, sitting down on the black wicker chair that overlooks the stone pond just inches away.

Clearing his throat, your guest does the same.

He makes an effort to sit properly, although it does look like he's hurting himself in the process. His back is bent strangely and his hands are gripping at his bare knees through his ripped jeans uncomfortably.

He must not want to touch anything for fear of making a mistake.

You feel as if you should try and make him more comfortable, which is big for you when you seemingly adore how the interns at work literally run in the opposite direction when they hear your Louboutin heels clacking towards them.

"Treat this like your own place, it's okay," you promise, popping open the champagne.

Jeongguk gives you a polite smile. "Oh I don't think you'd want that. There'd be protein bar wrappers everywhere."

When you give the faintest hint of a smirk it seems to settle him a bit more.

Your smile is pretty, Guk thinks, it's a shame you don't smile very often.

Sliding him the glass of wine, you look out towards the backyard that you very rarely come to look at.

"Salmon sounds good for dinner?" you inquire, bringing the glass to your lips.

The escort can only nod. "I like salmon. Sounds doable to me."

This really isn't as awkward as you thought it would be. It doesn't feel painful to sit beside him.

That's nice.

Taking a sip of the wine, Guk wants to simply fall to his knees at the taste. It honestly tastes expensive, like you but there's notes in it that make him feel comfortable drinking it.

He's not used to this upper class sort of stuff. He's well off, sure, but he's not rolling in money.

"What kind of questions did you have in mind?"

He lifts his head a fraction only to see your head tilting toward him. With the setting sun in the background, you look like a grand painting like one of the ones he used to study in college.

It's a stunning sight.

Why the fuck would anyone hurt you?

His throat and voice box are nowhere to be found in all honesty, they've gotten lost somewhere within him and he's just not quick enough to find them before you look over at him inquisitively.

"Jeongguk?"

"Yes! Questions!" he coughs loudly, setting down his glass of champagne.

You're too busy berating your own self to catch his small moment of being flustered.

"My questions are simple in a sense. What's your favorite color, favorite type of music, favorite pastime? Then there are harder questions like your favorite memory, who your friends are. Just to get a sense of who you are so when we get to the wedding I'll know all the right things to say."

You nod thoughtfully, turning back to the stone pond as you sip delicately from your glass.

"My favorite color is lavender," you whisper.

There's a softness to your voice, a type of vulnerability that Jeongguk swallows thickly at. He finds himself thinking about your mansion, lavender is nowhere to be seen. Colors that aren't black and white simply don't exist in this expensive realm and while he thought that might be a stylistic choice, the way you've just spoken tells him about a million and one things all at once.

You're so very broken and these people that are getting married are the cause. He assumes that you were vastly different to the person you are now and he wonders for a moment what that person was like.

"Favorite type of music… I'm not sure I only listen to opera now," you answer, staring down at the water as it ripples at the slightest breeze.

"Why opera?" Guk inquire innocently.

"Drowns out the pain…"

God, you're fucking morbid.

You're absolutely horrified that you're coming off as this kind of psychopath. But then again, didn't you want this? Didn't you want people to fear you? Didn't you want to push people away and keep yourself locked in a castle of hard, sterile and nauseating?

"I'm sure it must be really difficult to open up and I'm sorry if it's pushing you. I just want to make these people eat their own shit and the only way I can do that is finding out more about you," Jeongguk offers, reaching over the table and laying his large hand over yours.

The chill from his many rings makes a shiver shoot down your spine and you find yourself trying to become smaller in front of him at the feeling.

He does want these people to pay. He wants them to rue the day they ever thought it would be alright to hurt you. It doesn't happen often when he finds himself aching for his client, usually because they only need him for a high school reunion or a date to their parents' holiday and they promised they have a boyfriend to get them off their backs. But he does feel your pain, he does understand even with the most minute information.

"What about your favorite memory?" Guk asks, trying to lighten the mood.

The question makes you think hard. You try to recall your happiest moments and although they're locked behind some doors, you think you might have a skeleton key somewhere nearby.

"I'm thinking," you promise.

The escort only nods carefully, still keeping his hand on top of yours as he looks around the perfectly kept garden.

He's coming to realize that all this money you have and the life you live is simply a show. If someone was to speak to you for more than two minutes they would realize what a complete and utter set up this is. You're living your life like an actress in a play, just letting the setting pieces set up behind you while you stand alone on stage.

Chloe was the opposite. She was boisterous and cantankerous and everything he didn't want to know but she drew him in so fast that it wasn't easy to leave when she sunk her expensive nails into him.

He wasn't moved by her, he wasn't hoping to help her -- he was merely with her. He was moving her set pieces for her so she could stay in the spotlight.

And suddenly Jeongguk realizes that he's drawing parallels between you and his ex which isn't right.

"My favorite moment is when my dad took me to the zoo for the first time. Zoo tickets were really expensive for my family back then. We barely did any activities besides going to the park because it was, y'know, free. But my dad knew how much I loved animals and how much I wanted to see them in person," you begin with a deep breath.

The escort can see how deep in your memories you are, the way your irises flit back and forth as if you're reliving right in this exact moment and the corners of your lips flickering upwards like a smile will almost crack your face like perfect china. But there's something endearing about it.

So perfectly endearing.

"I went the whole day running around and seeing all the animals, we stayed until they closed the gates and my dad even got me a stuffed animal to commemorate it even though he had to take money out of the rent for it. It's one of the best memories I have. I still have the little elephant upstairs in my bedroom," you finish, turning to Guk with a smile.

Your smile is true and wide, showing your perfectly white teeth beneath your dark berry lipstick and Jeongguk can feel his heart stutter for even a fraction of a second.

There is no way in hell he's not getting invested.

And there's no way in hell that he's leaving that wedding without making both of your ex's hate that they ever hurt you.

<---- Previous Chapter ----> Next Chapter

#at your service #ays #chapter 2 #chap 2 #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts #bts fic #jungkook fic

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brokenjere · 6 months

Text

details (j.f)(pt.3)

a/n: hey guys, sorry it's been a minute. just trying to figure out life right now haha but it's here! sorry for the wait!!

Thanksgiving, last year

I was sitting on the couch with my feet on the coffee table and a book in my hand when Conrad walked in. He leaned against the door jam with his hands in his pocket and I’m pretty sure he was watching me for a while before finally speaking up, but when he did, he had a smile on his face. “What are you doing hiding in here?”

I held up my book for him to see the cover. I don’t think he read it, just nodded and started walking toward me. “I’m not hiding,” I said. “Just getting out of the way.” When Susannah was in the kitchen, everyone was just a waste of space. If you weren’t chopping or peeling, you had to go and I was doing neither.

“Where’s Jere? He wasn’t in the kitchen.” I close my book with a bookmark and set it aside.

“He’s probably upstairs,” I told him. Conrad lifted up my legs by my ankles and sat down next to me, putting my legs on his lap. His hands rested on my thighs. “I think he’s a little overwhelmed with everything that’s going on.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He scoffed and I shook my head. Of course, he didn’t know what I meant because he was never around anymore. He didn’t see all the stuff that Jeremiah did every day. He wouldn’t understand.

“He’s just tired, is all. Taking care of your mom.” Conrad looked at me, his eyebrows knitted in confusion and he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. “She needs a lot of help these days.”

“What do you mean? She’s in there right now cooking Thanksgiving dinner,” he said, a little laugh under his voice.

“She’s making mashed potatoes and veggies. You didn’t see Jeremiah cooking the turkey all morning and feeding her health smoothies so she’d have enough energy to even do what she’s doing,” I told him. “She’s not doing well, Con.”

“You don’t think I know that?” He whispers.

“You don’t seem to act like it.” Hurt flashes across his face. “You’re just never around anymore.” I tried to keep my tone light so maybe his feelings don’t get hurt but I can tell that they are. He opened his mouth to speak but then Jeremiah’s voice booms from behind us.

“Dinner is ready,” he said. We both turn to look at him. His blonde hair is still a curly mess but he tried today. He spent too long in the bathroom with his hair gel trying to make the curls fall in the right spot. His eyes dart between Conrad and I before they land on my legs on his lap. I shift uncomfortably, swinging my feet to the ground.

“Let’s eat,” I said, standing up and tossing my book next to Conrad. I met Jeremiah in the door, taking his outstretched hand. I can’t help but notice Jeremiah watching Conrad on our way to the dining room.

Later that night, Jeremiah told me he was going to football camp over the summer. “It’s our last summer in Cousins. With Susannah,” I said when he told me. His eyebrows crinkled and he shook his head at me.

“My mom is going to die before we can go back to Cousins. You know that.”

“Don’t say that,” I snapped but he wasn’t phased. He blinked slowly and sighed. “You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. And my dad wants me to go this year, finally. So I’m going to go.” He sounded so certain. Adam always asked Conrad to go to football camp. Conrad was always his star but now that Conrad quit, I guess Adam has no other option. I almost said this to him, just to hurt his feelings, but I didn’t. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Why would I be happy?” I asked. “You’ll be gone for three months.”

“You supported Conrad when he went,” he spat. Always just when I think he’s over it, he throws it back in my face. Conrad. Always, always Conrad.

“I didn’t care if I saw Conrad for three months or not.” Liar. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Jeremiah stood up and ran his hand through his curls. No longer perfectly placed but a disheveled mess. “I have to go check on my mom,” he said after a minute. He turned toward the door.

“Conrad is in there with her,” I told him. After dinner, Conrad took her up to bed and has been locked in the room with her since.

“Of course you’d know that.”

“Oh, shut up!” I yelled. He turned, startled that I raised my voice. “Just stop with that.” His shoulders dropped and he crossed the room swiftly, wrapping me in his arms. I let him hug me and I hugged him back and we didn’t talk.

Conrad went home the next day. He knocked on my front door, bags in hand and dropped them on the stoop when I opened the door. “Just wanted to say bye,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t know you were leaving so soon.”

“I just-” he stopped and looked at the ground and he didn’t have to finish. I knew what he was going to say before he said it. I pulled open the door a little further, just enough for him to squeeze inside the house. He did without question.

My dad forced my mom to go Black Friday shopping with her so they’ve been gone for hours. I had the entire house to myself but I still led him upstairs. He collapsed onto my bed and covered his face in the crook of his elbow. “It’s better for both of them if you stay,” I said quietly. I always felt like I was walking on eggshells talking about Susannah when she was sick. I was always afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“I can’t see her like that,” he said. “I kept that secret to myself for too long. I can’t handle it anymore.” His voice was muffled from his arm. I sat down next to him. So close his leg was touching mine. “Plus, Jeremiah acts like he couldn’t care less whether I’m here or not.”

“That’s not true, you’re his brother.” Conrad peeks his eye out at me and I give him a look that makes him roll his eyes and cover them back up.

“What are you going to do this summer when he’s gone?” He asked, changing the subject. I shrugged which makes the bed move up and down. “Maybe I can come home for a while.”

“What are you going to do for the rest of break with no one else on campus?” I asked. It was his turn to shrug now which made me blow a laugh from my nose.

“Lots of kids stay home for break. I’ll be back for Christmas.” I picked at my nails and thought about Conrad in a knitted sweater, his hair pulled down by a beanie. He stood up then and said, “I should get going.” I nodded and stood up with him, following him downstairs back to the front door. “Call Jere,” he said as we stood on the front porch. My hand gripped the door tighter.

“I will.” He nodded and touched my wrist as a parting gesture. We no longer hug. Not since summer. I don’t close the door until his car is down the street. I pull out my phone and see three missed texts from Jeremiah.

Hey, con left

Hello???

Where are you?

I don’t call him, instead I put on my shoes and cross the lawn to his house. He’s sitting in the living room, his phone on the coffee table and the TV on quiet. He turned around at the sound of me entering and he smiled. My Jeremiah. My heart jumps at the way his eyes crinkle. “Susannah sleeping?” I asked and he nodded. I walk toward the couch to meet him and can’t help but notice the perfect view of my front porch.

taglist: @things-that-make-sa-happy@marajillana@calpurnia2002@revemixer@harrysswhore@liltimmyst @chickunn-nuggett @rottenstyx @queenofthehellfireclub @lilbazzi@drikawinchester@gillybear17@shamelessbluebirdsong @romantics-and-eternity @1kbkbkbkb0 @wolfinthestars @junnniiieee07

#tsitp #conrad fisher #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp imagine #conrad fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher fan fic #belly conklin #jenny han

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 year

Text

North To The Future [Chapter 9: A Long December]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

A/N: While “A Long December” was originally released by Counting Crows in 1996 (and is thus compliant with the 90s theme), the version I listen to most is Girlhouse’s cover from 2022. So maybe check that out. It is a bop!

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, a tiny bit of sexual content, Christmas with Momtini and Dadtini, Kimmie making a realization, Aegon making a drink, Appletini making plans, Trent making some killer pool shots, the Ice Fisher getting into the holiday spirit, please enjoy this nice little respite before the events of Chapter 10. :)

Word count: 6.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @hinata7346 @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl @charenlie @thewew @eddies-bat-tattoos @minttea07 @joliettes @trifoliumviridi @bornbetter @flowerpotmage @thewitch-lives @courtenbae @tempt-ress @padfooteyes @teenagecriminalmastermind @chelsey01 @anditsmywholeheart

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

You descend the staircase gingery, sheepishly. Your socks slip on the hardwood steps like tires on black ice. You’re trying to avoid your parents, but you can’t wait any longer to eat breakfast or you’ll be late for work. They’re bustling around in the kitchen: cracking eggs, chitchatting, banging plates and pans, cooing over Sunfyre, listening to an R.E.M. album that spins on the record player.

When you walk in, your dad is standing by the stove wearing the apron you got him for his 50th birthday. Pizza Slut, it says. He grins and wiggles his eyebrows. “Hey, ladybug.”

“Oh no.”

“I heard you come home pretty late last night. And then you got right into the shower. Hmm.”

“Hmm!” your mom concurs joyfully.

Your dad nods to the pan he’s hovering over, wielding a spatula. “Salmon omelet?”

You sigh, defeated; and yet, you must admit, you love salmon omelets. “Yeah, sure.” You sit down at the table next to your mom. She’s drinking Earl Grey tea smokey with cream and reading a newspaper: Halle Barry is marrying a jazz musician, Puff Daddy’s Notorious.com is looking for a venture capitalist willing to invest $7.5 million in startup funding, a man was arrested in Times Square for threatening President Clinton, the Nasdaq composite index—fueled largely by the dot-com boom—could hit 5,000 by the end of 2000. You wonder what Aegon’s family is doing right now. Do outrageously wealthy people eat omelets and decorate Christmas trees? Do they hop from store to store in some glitzy metropolitan mall hunting for presents—KB Toys, the Disney Store, Hallmark, Bath and Body Works, Hot Topic, RadioShack, Claire’s, Wet Seal, Yankee Candle—before grabbing a late-afternoon snack at Cinnabon or Sbarro, maybe a smoothie from Orange Julius? Or do they just sit in their mansions under vast unsmiling portraits until they grow dusty and turn to stone: gargoyles, angels, lions bearing their fangs? Are they still human at all?

“How’s Trent doing?” your mom asks. “Still trying to get into the Forest Service?”

“As far as I know. But that’s not who I was with last night.”

Your dad sets an omelet down in front of you, along with a glass of orange juice and one of the same Flintstones multivitamins you’ve been taking since you were in preschool. Jesse used to give me those, you think randomly, recalling the reminders he penned in his clandestine journals. When he was around. When he was sober. Your parents exchange a wary glance. “Oh?” your dad ventures in a squeak, trying to sound casual.

You could lie, but you don’t. Juneau is too small for lies. People know each other too well, they bump elbows in grocery stores and bars and parking lots; they make overly-familiar small talk and inadvertently spill secrets. The last thing you need is someone teasing Trent good-naturedly about your supposed night of passion. He might be dumb, but if he ever gets all the pieces in his titan hands he’ll eventually figure out how they click together. “I was, uh, actually, uh…visiting Aegon.”

They watch you, faces frozen in forced, benign smiles. You pet the top of Sunfyre’s shaggy head with your left hand and stab a fork into the salmon omelet with your right. “Well, that’s great!” your dad manages. “He’s a nice boy, that Aegon. So Greek. And plenty sexy, as we’ve previously established.”

“Is he feeling better?” your mom asks politely, slurping her tea.

“Oh yeah. Much better.” It comes out way too enthusiastic, and hot blood floods into your face. Your parents chuckle…and yet their eyes are troubled, distant, though perhaps in different directions. “Just so you know, things aren’t really working out with Trent. I’m trying to let it fizzle so there isn’t any drama that makes things awkward or creates any…uh…bad blood, I guess. So if you see him around, definitely don’t mention Aegon.”

Your dad does a mock salute. “Got it, General Ladybug.”

“What are Aegon’s plans for Christmas?” your mom inquires. Your dad turns to her, but doesn’t say anything. “It must be difficult for him, being so far from home. Especially around the holidays. I would hate for him to be alone.”

Probably drinking himself into unconsciousness while watching Jingle All The Way and Die Hard. “I don’t know, that’s a good question. I should ask him.”

“He can spend Christmas here with us, if he’d like.” Your mom finishes her tea, sets the cup down on the table, fiddles with it. “We’ll have more than enough food. And we could find a few things to wrap for him so he has presents to open.”

“Now if that’s not holiday spirit, I don’t know what is!” your dad says happily; and if he’s bluffing, he’s good at not showing it. He kisses your mom on the cheek, resting his study hands on her shoulders. She smiles up at him.

You wolf down the last few bites of your salmon omelet, chew your vitamin, knock back orange juice like a shot. “Alright, I should get going, or I won’t be back in time to open the vet clinic at 9.”

“I can always hold down the fort for a few hours,” your dad offers.

“No, that’s okay. I appreciate it, but I don’t want to bother you.” I don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t want to let you down. “You’ve earned retirement. Enjoy all the Judge Judy and Buffy The Vampire Slayer you can handle.” You pet Sunfyre and tug playfully on his ears. His tail wags at warp speed. “Are you ready to go home to your favorite person now? Are you excited?”

Your dad lumbers off into the kitchen. “Here, bring Aegon some breakfast too…” He piles a salmon omelet, a mountain of hash browns, and toast slathered with butter and strawberry jelly into a Tupperware container. You take it and glance out the window that faces the driveway.

“Oh, great. Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“The cow moose is out there licking the road salt off my Jeep. Can you get rid of her?”

“Again?! Okay, I’m on it.” He grabs some pots out of the cabinet and heads outside. You can hear him beating the pots together and shouting: “Goodbye, moose! You live in the woods, not the driveway! Goodbye! Au revoir! Adios, mooseachos!”

At the kitchen table, your mom laughs. She’s still tinkering anxiously with her cup. “Only in Alaska.”

“You’re really alright with Aegon coming over for Christmas?”

“Of course. I’d prefer it, actually. I’d rather know he’s safe. Not alone, not in trouble.”

“Even though he might end up passed out under the tree?”

She smiles: faint, tired, melancholic. “I’ve seen worse.”

When you let yourself into Aegon’s apartment, he’s dressed for work and self-medicating with a rum and Coke mixed in a cereal bowl; it’s the only dish he has that’s currently clean. Sunfyre bolts to him, barking wildly and jumping up to prop his paws on Aegon’s chest as you slide the Tupperware onto the kitchen counter.

“Hey, buddy!” Aegon cries, ecstatic. “I missed you! Yes I did! Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?!”

“Where are you going?” you ask, scrutinizing him.

“Fishing,” he says simply, like this should be obvious.

“I don’t think you should be going back to work this soon. You just got out of the hospital.”

He shrugs. “I need the money.”

“I can give you money.”

“You definitely could, but I don’t want your money, I want my money. Besides, Trent won’t be able to protect my job forever. If I can’t work, Rusty will find someone else who can.”

“Trent,” you echo morosely, staring at nothing in particular.

Aegon downs the rest of his rum and Coke, then puts his bowl in the sink. He walks over to you, his oceanic eyes cautious, his lock of white-blond hair resting on his cheek. “What did he do to you? At dinner, I mean. Before you called me.”

You take his left hand and turn it over, studying the lines on his palm: past, present, future, all in a language you can’t read. You hesitate; you can’t decide what to tell Aegon. You aren’t sure what you want him to know.

“He didn’t hurt you, right? Or try to touch you in a way you didn’t want him to?”

“He kissed me. I pushed him off. That’s all.”

Aegon watches you, eyes severe and glinting. “That’s not all.”

“I tried to break up with him at the restaurant,” you confess. “First he acted like he didn’t understand. Then he got upset, offended. We agreed to slow down, but I’m not sure what he thinks that means. Maybe he’s planning a summer engagement instead of a spring one, I have no idea.”

“You made him angry.” Aegon’s voice is flat, entirely flat, like he’s battling to keep it that way. “I thought we agreed not to make him angry.”

“Well I didn’t do it on purpose, Aegon.”

“No no no, my bad, let me clarify, I’m not mad at you. I just don’t understand why you would be so direct about it. I’ve broken up with a lot of people without actually breaking up with them. You ignore, you deflect, you do the bare minimum, you are intentionally unappealing in every way…and then eventually they move on. That’s the way to go. That’s how you avoid confrontations.”

“I don’t want this thing with Trent to die a slow death.” Oh, perhaps a poor choice of words. “I don’t want to be with him, to even keep up the facade of being with him. I want to be with you. I want to be with you in every way, everywhere, all the time.”

Aegon smiles. He twists his fingers into your hair and touches his forehead to yours and then kisses you, softly and unhurriedly. As he pulls away, he gently bites your lower lip; his fingertips ghost across the front of your throat like a necklace, like a chain. You moan into him, unable to help it. “I won’t go to work if you don’t either,” Aegon murmurs.

“I, an eternally upstanding citizen, definitely have to go to work.”

“Man, fuck capitalism,” he says, and you laugh together.

Something occurs to you. “You didn’t wait for Kimmie to move on. You broke up with her.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I had another candidate in mind for the extremely prestigious position of being my Juneau girl.”

You tuck his hair behind his ear and kiss him again: heat, rum, memories from the night before. Lust stirs up in your blood like ancient silt in seawater. “Please be careful at work.”

“I will, Appletini. I will. Don’t worry. You’re always worrying about things that haven’t happened yet. There’s no point in that.”

“I think I’m just someone who’s doomed to worry a lot in general.”

He grins. “Yes. But I’m your favorite thing to worry about.” He lays his palm against your right cheek and kisses your left: quickly, lightly, like it’s routine, like he’ll be doing it every day for the rest of his life. “Have fun at the vet clinic. Saving all those furry little lives.”

“I’ll see you at Ursa Minor tonight?”

He winks. “I’ll be the one with the electric guitar.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You get stuck late at the clinic spaying Mr. Mark Morehouse’s Flemish Giant rabbit. By the time you rush through the front door of Ursa Minor—bells jangling, a gust of cold wind at your heels, patrons glancing over with vague interest—the band is already performing. Aegon is wearing his cuffed jeans, black combat boots, and, in a radical departure from his usual color scheme, a royal blue turtleneck sweater. He’s braided a section of his hair on the left side of his head and woven a single, small, blue-dyed rose into it. He gives you a subtle nod when he sees you come in, a sly half-smile. He’s singing a punk rock, up-tempo version of Counting Crow’s A Long December.

“I can’t remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving, now the days go by so fast…”

“Heyyy, bitch!” Heather greets you, raising her Sex On The Beach. Joyce and Kimmie are swaying together, brandishing lighters in the air: Joyce smirking and reluctant, Kimmie—a born groupie—shamelessly exuberant. You swing by the bar to get a Bacardi Breezer (blueberry, very good, one of the better flavors) and stand beside Heather. You gaze at Aegon as he strums his battered guitar, and the parallel strikes you for the first time. Aegon too is layered with imperfections: scars, marks, ink, demons with gnashing fangs and needlelike fingers that dangle past their knees. And yet what he gives to the world is so beautiful. And yet he is so goddamn miraculous.

“I can’t remember all the times I tried to tell my myself to hold on to these moments as they pass…”

It takes you a long time to notice that Kimmie is watching you. Something clicks like a dislocated joint popped back into its socket; and that’s the way it’s always been with Kimmie, since she was a child, since she was a five-year-old chasing boys around the playground at recess. The hints pile up—a lot of hints, sometimes years of hints—until eventually there’s an avalanche of realization that hits and drags her under like a rogue wave. She sucks in a breath and her doelike eyes shoot wide open. You try to pretend you didn’t see anything, but that’s not Kimmie’s style. She pushes her way through the audience and grabs your wrist, hauling you away from the crowd. Heather observes this, slurping down her Sex On The Beach, trying to ascertain if you need reinforcements.

“What—?!”

“I didn’t know,” Kimmie says, like it’s an apology. Her eyes are pained and fearful, a deer bathed in headlights.

“You didn’t know what?”

“That you’re in love with him.” Her voice is reedy and trembling. She’s petrified, you realize. She’s afraid that I’ll never be able to be her friend again. Not a true friend, not a pure one. “I swear to God, I didn’t know. I even asked you first. I never would have hooked up with him if I had known, never, never. I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry. It didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t like we had real feelings for each other—”

“Kimmie, Kimmie, it’s fine,” you soothe, rubbing her shoulder. She’s wearing a ridiculously fluffy hot pink sweater; it’s like petting a neon sheep. “I’m the one who wasn’t upfront with you. I didn’t think Aegon and I had a chance, so I was purposefully trying to avoid him, to avoid any feelings I had for him. It didn’t work out that way, but…yeah. Anyway. I don’t blame you for anything.”

“Oh my god, so you’re together? Like, together?” Kimmie blinks at you, shocked but not scandalized. You’re not sure it’s possible to scandalize Kimmie.

“We don’t really want everyone to know about it.”

“Oh, because of Trent?”

Now it’s your turn to be shocked. Maybe some of those genius professor genetics made it down the Plinko board after all. “Exactly.”

“Jesus Christ, he’d probably snap Aegon in half if he knew. Like a freaking KitKat bar.”

“That’s a mental image I didn’t need.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Kimmie swears, empowered by this rare, consequential responsibility.

“I really, really appreciate your discretion.”

“You and Aegon, wow…” She mulls it over, baffled. “So you’re pretty kinky too? I wouldn’t have guessed that. You should have told me! We could have gone shopping together!”

Shopping with Kimmie for fuzzy handcuffs and riding crops and, who knows, probably like vibrating butt plugs or something. I don’t think I’m emotionally prepared for that. I will most likely never be emotionally prepared for that. “Boundaries, Kimmie. Honestly, I haven’t seen that side of him. At least not in my albeit limited experience.”

“Huh,” Kimmie says brightly. “I guess he’s in love with you too.” And then she trots off to rejoin the crowd. Boat #27 has concluded their performance and is accepting cheers of acclaim and complimentary drinks from their adoring fans. Joyce hugs Rob, climbing onto her tiptoes and giggling. Joyce!? Giggling!?!? You grab another Bacardi Breezer before heading over, raspberry this time.

“Hey, babe!” Trent booms when he sees you.

Oh god. Oh no. You shrink away when he throws an arm across your shoulders. Aegon watches this as he approaches, sipping a rum and Coke, eyes like blue embers.

“Right,” Trent groans, like it’s some grave inconvenience, like it’s some passing fad he has to endure. “I remember now. We’re taking things slow.”

The clique assembles by the pool table like battle-ready Power Rangers: you, Trent, Joyce, Rob, Heather, Kimmie, Aegon. “Someone should play!” you say, truly a master of redirection.

Trent flips his hair. “Obviously I’m down.” He looks at you expectantly. You ignore him, drinking your Bacardi Breezer and then pretending to drink it once it’s empty.

“Oh, you are going down.” Heather cracks her knuckles and grins, then picks up a cue stick.

“Battle royal!” Rob announces. Joyce sighs and pulls a fantasy novel out of her purse. Kimmie perches on the edge of the pool table: legs crossed, eyes roving, gold hoop earrings glittering under Christmas lights, seeking attention and drawing it to her like Saturn ensnares moons. A gaggle of bashful men appear out of nowhere to worship her. Dale’s stereo pipes out Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You. Dale himself is wearing a red Santa hat and yawning boredly into the back of his hand.

“I need another drink,” you say, and head for the bar. Aegon follows you.

“You don’t want a Bacardi Breezer.”

“I don’t?”

“No. You don’t.” He flags Dale over once you’ve claimed your seats. “Hey Dale, did you get the stuff on the list I gave you?”

“Sure did.” Dale sets an array of items on the bar: apple juice, lemon juice, florescent green apple schnapps, vodka, a single Granny Smith apple, a paring knife, a shaker halfway filled with ice, a small plate covered with sugar, two chilled martini glasses. “You owe me, though. Especially for the schnapps. I had to order a case all the way from Seattle!”

“Add it to my tab.”

“Which you’ll pay when? In 2023?”

“I’ll pay, Dale!” Aegon insists.

Dale rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t seem genuinely annoyed. “Sure you will.” He yawns again and ambles away to take the orders of some locals sitting at the other end of the bar. The thuds of his boots are heavy and slow on the hardwood floor, the same one Aegon almost died on nine days ago.

“What are we doing?” you ask, but you’re already smiling. You have a pretty good guess.

“We’re making appletinis,” Aegon replies.

“You knew how to make appletinis this entire time and never said anything?”

“Oh no, I definitely did not,” he says. “I found the phone number of a friend I met back in San Francisco and figured she might know. She’s a bartender. So I gave her a call and asked very, very nicely and sure enough, she had a recipe.” He pauses, contemplative. “I told her I was in Chicago. Just in case.”

Just in case his ghost manages to track her down. “Have you seen this friend naked?”

“Does it matter?”

“No,” you say, and you find that you mean it. Aegon is here with you now, and that’s all you can ask for. Still, his commitment to relative honestly seems enduring.

“The answer is yes. But it wasn’t like it is with you.”

“Really, it doesn’t matter. I’m not mad or anything.”

“Yeah, you don’t look mad.”

You smile at each other, Christmas-light sparks in your eyes, alone in a crowded room. Well…alone except for Mariah Carey. “Anyway,” you prompt. “Am I getting a real-life appletini or what?”

“Let’s do this. Uh…” He furrows his brow, trying to remember. “Okay. I think I know how it goes.” He adds apple juice and lemon juice to the shaker. He doesn’t measure; he estimates, splashing in a little at a time until he’s content. He caps the container, gives it a few vigorous shakes, then opens it again. He pours in the schnapps and vodka, then shakes again. “Cut a few slices off the apple, vet lady. Nice and thin.”

You do, four transparent crescent-moon slivers. Aegon rubs lemon juice around the rim of each martini glass with his ring finger and then dunks them in the sugar until the rims are covered in fine white crystals like snow. He garnishes the martini glasses with the apple slices, gives the shaker one last whirl, then empties the contents into the glasses: half for you, half for him. He hands you your introductory appletini and toasts his glass against yours.

“On three?” Aegon asks, and you nod, beaming. You count together: one, two, three.

Your first taste isn’t a tentative sip. You take a full, brave swallow of the vivid green brew. It’s jarringly sour, sticky-sweet, crisp and refreshing like springtime. “Oh, I love it!” you trill.

“It’s…uh…” He takes another investigative slurp. “It’s definitely appley.”

“You hate it,” you say, laughing.

“I don’t hate it,” he counters. “I like what it’s doing to you.”

You close your eyes, the sights and sounds of Ursa Minor fading away. You’re somewhere sleek and vibrant and new; you’re in New York City, you’re in Los Angeles, you’re in Las Vegas, you’re in San Diego. When you open your eyes, Aegon is smiling. “Sorry. I was teleporting.”

“Do you want the rest of mine?”

“Yeah,” you admit guiltily, and he slides his appletini over to rest by yours. You drain them both. “I’m like Jack Dawson. I’m the king of the world.”

“You’re very, very cute when you’re tipsy, that’s what you are.”

“My parents think you should spend Christmas with us. I think you should too.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay. Don’t buy me anything fancy, though. I won’t be able to return the favor.”

“Sad impoverished homeless man gifts only. You have my word.”

“Hey!” Heather calls from the pool table. She’s waving her cue stick in the air. “I lost! I’m a loser! I got slaughtered by this jumbo-sized motherfucker! And you weren’t even here to witness it!”

“We should go over there,” you tell Aegon, and he steadies you when you wobble as you slide off the barstool. “Oh, god, I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool. Now I have an excuse to touch you.”

“Dale, can I get some Chex Mix or something?” He tosses you a little blue bag from behind the bar. You miss it completely. It sails over your head and smacks into the floor. Aegon cackles hysterically, but fetches the bag. He even opens it before he hands it to you. Then you set off together for the pool table.

“What’s wrong with you?” Heather asks when you arrive, her eyes narrow.

“I like appletinis. I really like appletinis.”

“It’s December 22nd, the commencement of Capricorn season, and you are celebrating this momentous event with an uncharacteristic display of recklessness and frivolity? Inauspicious!”

“What did I miss? Besides your humiliation.”

“Flintstones vitamins,” Rob says, rubbing blue chalk on a cue stick. He and Trent are playing pool now; Trent is showing Kimmie and several of her sycophants, including Matt and Gary, how he can make a shot with his hands behind his back. Aegon circles the pool table, his hands in his jeans pockets, watching Trent reticently. “Childish and stupid or totally acceptable for mid-twenties adults?”

“Totally acceptable,” you declare, munching on Chex Mix. “I just had one this morning.”

“That’s what I said!” Kimmie cries. “They’re delicious. I could eat a whole bottle of them. I used to lie to my mom when I was a kid and insist she hadn’t given one to me yet so I could get extra. My high score was five in a day.”

“That can’t be good for you,” Heather says. “Wait. Maybe it explains some things.”

“A lot of things,” Joyce quips, turning a page in her book.

Kimmie defers to you, the foremost medical authority present. “Vitamins can’t hurt people, right?”

“Well, that depends on the vitamin.”

“Some can,” Aegon says. “The fat-soluble ones, because your body can’t flush them out as easily or something. Too much Vitamin A can really fuck someone up. There are people who’ve died because they ate a polar bear liver, which has, like, millions of units of Vitamin A. So if you ever happen to eat a polar bear, skip the liver.”

“You can overdose on vitamins?” Kimmie asks him, puzzled. “Like, vitamins can kill you?”

“Oh yeah, lots of things can kill you if you take enough of them. Too much Vitamin A can cause seizures and comas, Vitamin D can give you a heart attack, Vitamin E can make you hemorrhage out of your eyeballs and stuff. And it causes strokes.”

“Oh snap!” Kimmie exclaims in horror, thinking that perhaps she barely escaped with her life. Heather is thoroughly amused.

You look at Aegon as he passes by you like a satellite whirling around the Earth, a blinking light in suffocating darkness. He’s right, but he shouldn’t be. He hasn’t studied medicine. He hasn’t studied much of anything. “How do you know all that?”

He replies curtly: “How do you think?” And then he resumes his orbit.

Rob attempts a shot and misses. “Ha!” Trent says, flipping his hair, and then starts lining up his own. As he leans over the pool table, he asks you: “So, where were you last night?”

Your mind, already hazy, goes useless. Cold sweat bubbles up out of your pores. “What? At home.”

“No you weren’t.” His eyes are on you like a wolf’s, like a beast’s. “I called the house. A couple times, actually. I felt weird about how we left things and wanted to apologize. But no one answered.”

“Oh, sorry, I mean I was at home, but then I went to go bowling with my parents.”

“No you didn’t.” Trent’s cue stick hits the striped red ball, number 11, and sends it hurtling into a pocket. “I already asked Dale. He’s in the bowling league, and he said you weren’t there.”

Two lies. And I don’t have a third. You stand there helplessly, surrounded by Christmas lights and tinsel and pine trees, your thoughts churning slowly, slower, dragging to a full stop. The chatter around you dies down. Wide eyes dart between you and Trent. Joyce closes her book. Even Dale is peeking over from the bar. His face is crisscrossed with lines of disapproval, of fascination.

“Where were you, huh?” Trent takes a step closer. He’s huge. He’s so fucking huge. Aegon picks up the black 8 ball off the pool table; no one else notices but you.

“Trent,” Heather scolds her brother, stunned. “Take a chill pill—”

“Where were you?!” Trent demands.

You try to conjure up an excuse, any excuse. All you can think of is how badly you don’t want to end up at the bottom of an ice-covered lake. I can’t die, I haven’t done anything yet. I haven’t been anywhere yet. I haven’t seen San Diego.

Trent begins one final time, still clutching the cue stick, his voice deafening: “Where were—?!”

“She was with me!” Kimmie bursts out, and everyone spins towards her. “I, um, I was upset. Devastated, in fact. Because of, um. Boy problems.”

Heather titters nervously. “What else is new.”

“So I called and I was an absolute blubbering mess on the phone and she offered to come over and hang out. Watch Buffy with me. Do my nails and stuff. It’s really embarrassing.” She smiles at you, a soft glowing smile. “Thanks for trying to keep my secret.”

“No problem, Kimmie,” you reply shakily.

“Oh, babe!” Trent says, his face splitting into a smile, pressing a hand into the small of your back. He even flips his hair in that simpleminded, horselike way. He can’t be the Ice Fisher. He can’t be…right? You flinch when he touches you. On the periphery of your vision, you can see Aegon rolling the black 8 ball back onto the pool table. “That’s all?! You should have told me!”

“It really wasn’t my situation to share.”

“Damn, I’m sorry.” Trent seems to mean it. “I’m really sorry. That was a dick move, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Hulk smash?” Rob says, and there is laughter, quivering with fresh relief.

“I think I have to go,” you say, rubbing your forehead. “I’m really not feeling great.” And that part’s not even a lie. “I shouldn’t have mixed Bacardi Breezers and appletinis, I’m a total lightweight. And I have work in the morning. I’m supposed to vaccinate like ten of Mr. Campbell’s reindeer.”

“You want me to drive you home?” Trent offers.

No! Definitely not! “Thanks, but I couldn’t bear to interrupt your pool game. Especially when you’re winning.” You can tell Aegon is looking at you. You intentionally don’t acknowledge him. And now you realize that you’re a little trapped: you can’t say you’re driving yourself home because you’re not sober, and you can’t say that Aegon is walking you back to his apartment because then Trent might murder you both right here in the middle of Ursa Minor, blood splattering the deer heads mounted on the wall, femurs and vertebrae littering the pool table.

“I’ll do it!” Heather volunteers. “I’m super not-wasted at the moment.”

“Um, well…”

“Come on.” She’s already going to get your parka off the coatrack. “I can’t in good conscience let you vaccinate those reindeer without a full night’s sleep.” You trail after her, powerless to refuse.

Out in the night-draped parking lot, you haul yourself—with some difficulty—into Heather’s Chevy Suburban. And as she turns the key in the ignition and begins defrosting the windshield, you tell her: “When you leave the lot, make a left, not a right.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re not taking me home. You’re taking me to Aegon’s apartment.”

“I’m…?” She gapes at you as it sinks in like an anchor through dark surf. “Oh my god. Oh my god…?!”

“Affirmative.”

“Oh. My. GOD.” She puts the Suburban in drive and, as requested, makes a left onto Main Street.

Sunfyre is delighted to see you when you arrive. He leaps, barks, pirouettes in circles, accepts copious scratches and Milk-Bone treats. You collapse onto the threadbare couch, and he stretches out on the floor beside you, his quiet snoring soon the only sound in the apartment. Your eyes blur, flutter, close up shop. Maybe twenty minutes later, you hear a key rattling in the front door.

Aegon walks inside, his boots dripping with snow. He doesn’t seem surprised to see you. “You alright, Appletini?”

“Yeah, I’m kind of woozy but I mostly just wanted to leave.” You consider him, wondering how to ask him the question that won’t leave your mind. It claws at the arched walls of your skull like a trapped animal, leaving streaks of blood where its nails were torn away.

“I don’t want to talk about the vitamin thing,” he says.

“I don’t want to talk about Trent.”

“Deal.”

He throws off his parka and boots, turns on the X-Files, and crawls onto the couch with you. You fold into him and he holds you, not hungrily, not asking for a thing. You freefall into sleep with your head against his chest, his heartbeat a distant roar like thunder.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Ice Fisher has left Juneau a Christmas present: Stephanie Nolan, his fifth victim. She was twenty-five years old, an avid knitter, a Blockbuster employee, mother of several adopted Himalayan cats, one of three sisters born barely a year apart. At least her parents still have some children left, you think. At least the pressure to make their sacrifices worthwhile wasn’t all on her. Your dad sneaks a few minutes of news coverage while your mom is in the shower. They’re replaying the press conference that Chief of Police Eugene Baker gave late last night on Christmas Eve.

“We urge all Juneau residents to remain vigilant. This is the time of year for celebrations and get-togethers, and we don’t want to discourage that in any way, but no one—and I repeat, no one—should be outside alone, especially not after dark. Ms. Nolan left her place of employment to take a ten-minute smoke break, and that was all the opportunity the killer needed. He is still out there, he is still dangerous, and no one is immune from becoming a target. If you have any information relevant to this case, anything at all, please call our anonymous 24/7 hotline at…”

There are camera flashes, uneasy clamoring, flailing hands of reporters begging to be called on. Your dad crosses his arms over his broad chest, his face grim. A reporter asks Chief Baker: “I understand that the Juneau PD has brought in FBI profilers to help them identify possible suspects. Can you share any new theories with the public at this time?”

“Well, there are a couple likely possibilities. The Ice Fisher might be someone who is new to the area, someone who arrived this past summer or early autumn. Residents should therefore be extremely wary of newcomers. However, it might be the case that the killer isn’t new to the area at all, but rather suffered some sort of destabilizing event—loss of employment, for example, or the death of a loved one—that triggered their otherwise dormant violent impulses. The last theory I’m prepared to share today is that the criminal now known as the Ice Fisher might have been active long before this recent string of murders. Some serial killers have been known to…to test the waters, so to speak…with murders that can be camouflaged as accidental or natural deaths. That’s a possibility in this case, and we are combing back through the department archives to see if there are any answers there…”

“I should go pick up Aegon,” you say.

“Ladybug…” Your dad stalls, not wanting you to take it the wrong way. “I’m not saying that I think Aegon is the killer, because I don’t think he is. I know he’s not, actually. He doesn’t have much rage in him. He has a lot of other things, I believe, but not that. I’m just saying…you have to be careful. And he can’t keep an eye out for you if he’s passed out drunk somewhere. Do you get what I mean?”

“I understand, Dad. I’m careful. Really, I am. And I’m never running around town alone. If I’m not with Aegon, I’m with Heather or Kimmie or Joyce.”

“Or Trent,” he adds. He likes this idea; Trent might not be able to snap a murderer in two like a KitKat bar, but he could definitely crack a few ribs. Trent would be a great Mortal Kombat character. He could skewer foes with a cue stick, right through the eye socket. An icy shudder rocks down your spine.

“Or Trent.”

“Okay. Good.” He turns back to the tv, his eyes vacant, his voice low. “Just making sure.”

Aegon is dressed in his Christmas best: dark jeans, black Converses, his hair loose and wavy, a festive red sweater with Gizmo from Gremlins on it. You’ve opted for a more traditional Rudolph turtleneck. Sunfyre has a large red bow tied to his collar. The three of you ride together back to your parents’ house, the radio playing Celine Dion’s O Holy Night, one of the back windows rolled halfway down for Sunfyre.

Dinner is a reindeer roast, rosemary apple stuffing, potato gratin, homemade macaroni and cheese, and creamed spinach; dessert is Christmas cookies eaten under the tree. You open presents as a parade of classics play on the tv: Frosty The Snowman, How The Grinch Stole Christmas, The Year Without A Santa Claus. Your parents give Aegon cold-weather clothing like hats and mittens, which he accepts with great appreciation. He gives them a bouquet of blue roses and three bottles of red wine, only one of which he drinks himself. You give Aegon a refrigerator magnet from Caribou Crossings, a grizzly bear with a salmon caught between its teeth, something to join the rest of his collection, something to help him remember Juneau once he’s gone. He gives you a handful of seashells from San Diego that he’s been carting around in his luggage for a year. Everyone gives Sunfyre Milk-Bones.

When Aegon takes the golden retriever out to the backyard, your dad goes with them. You can see them talking out there as snow falls and the sun sets and the horizon is inked with violet and gold, the wind whipping fiercely: Aegon’s hands moving in wild, dramatic gestures, your dad nodding along. They’re gone for so long you start to worry, your fingers trembling as you and your mom play chess with the new set you received for Christmas, not black and white but pet-themed: one side dogs, the other cats.

Your dad comes back inside first. He shuts the door and says to you, not accusatory but merely intrigued: “I didn’t know you were serious about wanting to travel, ladybug.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess so. One day. When I’m retired, I guess. Doesn’t everyone want to travel?”

“Huh. Aegon made it sound a bit more urgent than that.”

He watches you defeat your mom in chess, makes her some mollifying Earl Grey tea, and then offers to play Scrabble with her, a proposition she can never resist. When Aegon brings Sunfyre back inside—the sky fully dark now, the stars rising behind the veil of clouds—you lead him upstairs to your room. You sit on your bed together and flip through your travel magazines, scenes of Paris, Cairo, New York City, Rome, Tokyo, Cape Town, Buenos Aires, Beijing, Saint Petersburg, Sydney, Las Vegas, Cusco, Athens, Mexico City, Nairobi, California.

“It’s strange,” Aegon says. “Your parents like me, but they also kind of don’t like me. It’s as if they’re afraid of me. I can’t figure them out.”

You think of the cardboard box under your bed, the one full of Jesse’s journals. “My mom was married before. Vince is her second husband.”

Aegon looks over at you, attentive but not understanding. “Okay.”

“I was five years old when they got together. So Vince is my dad, but he’s not…like…he’s not biologically…well, you get what I’m saying.”

Aegon closes the magazine he’d been skimming, still looking at you.

“My mom’s first husband was named Jesse. And he was…from what I understand…he was a lot like you.” You tap your index finger against the crook of your own elbow so Aegon will understand. He was brilliant, but he was an addict. He was a blessing, he was a curse.

Aegon nods slowly. “I guess that explains a lot.”

“I probably should have told you sooner. But I’ve never really told anyone.”

“What happened to him?”

“He drowned in the channel. Maybe it was an accident, maybe suicide. Maybe it doesn’t matter which one. Maybe there isn’t much of a difference.”

“I’m so sorry,” Aegon says, his voice quiet and gentle.

“I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

“It won’t. I told you. I’m not that easy to kill.”

You wonder if Aegon has become a ghost to his family, if he haunts the Targaryens like Jesse haunts you, half-comforting, half-heartbreaking, if after six long silent years his shadow still lurks in corners and doorways. You wonder if a ghost is really so far from what you are. “I want to stop feeling like a potential person, to stop waiting for the life I’ve always dreamed of to drop out of the sky. I want to feel real.”

“You’re real to me.” He dusts his thumbprint across the curve of your cheekbone, flesh and blood that sing to each other. “Listen, we’ll go to San Diego together.”

“Don’t, Aegon.”

“No, I mean it,” he says. “Give me a month to save up, and we’ll go. We’ll take a long weekend and fly down there. It won’t be hot enough to swim, but it’ll be warmer than here. Sixties, sunny, sandy, waves and tacos. We’ll stay somewhere with a waterbed. Those can be a lot of fun.”

“Careful. I might not want to leave the hotel room. What a waste of a trip that would be.”

“I’ll just have to make sure you’re bored of me by then,” he purrs, grinning and mischievous, dragging you into his lap. He smooths your hair back from your face, gazing up at you as you straddle him. He kisses your lips, your jaw, your neck; his teeth skate across your skin without biting down, without leaving indigo bruises of ownership. Slowly, he turns solemn and hushed. Slowly, you begin to worry about him.

“What, Aegon?”

“You’re the best present I ever got. I hope you know that.”

You whisper through his windswept white-blond hair: “Then open me.”

He lays you down on the bed, unearths your needful bare skin and stifles his moans against your throat, unravels you like a blood-red ribbon from a box heavy with secrets.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #aegon x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader

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rosasolos · 1 year

Text

ASSISTANT / A.JOLIE

pairing .⭒ ۪ 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ angelina x fem!reader

summary .⭒ ۪ 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ you are angelina’s assistant and after she finished her interview you guys go back to hers and something happens between you two.

warnings .⭒ ۪ 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ nsfw/smut, cursing, age gap ( you are 39 angie is 47 )

A/N .⭒ ۪ 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ sorry for any grammar errors

“So angelina what is you’re favorite childhood memory?” the interviewer says while looking at angelina. “Well when i was around 11 me and my neighbor used to go to this playground and climb the monkey bars.” angelina says while smiling at the camera, “well this has been very fun angelina i hope you have an amazing day.” the interviewer says while turning her head to look at angie. “this was amazing thank you so much for having me bye.” angelina says while getting up from her chair. “Ms jolie, the limo will be here in 5!” you say while looking as jolie’s calendar, “okay thank you y/n.” angie says while closing her water bottle lid.

“The limo is here ms jolie would you like me to take you’re bag?” you say while looking at angelina waiting for a response, “Yes thank you say much y/n.” “Okay so today at 3 you have a late lunch with dior and tomorrow you have a massage then your Vogue photoshoot then you have a dinner with ms portman.” “Thanks y/n i don’t know what i would do if you weren’t here!” Angelina says while looking at you’re clipboard. “Excuse me miss we are here.” The driver says while looking back at the both of you, “Oh perfect, here let me get the door.” You say to angie while opening her you’re door then hers.

You get Angelina’s keys out of her purse and unlock the door. “Okay we should probably go to your closet and try on those outfits that Chanel sent.” You say while looking at Angelina for approval “perfect let me just go grab a energy smoothie and I’ll meet you up there.” Angelina says while making her way to the kitchen.

You go upstairs and turn the knob of angelina’s walk in closet, you place her purse and shopping bags from earlier today. You grab the box’s chanel sent while you hear the door creak. “Hello, y/n you in here?” angelina says while opening the closet door. “Yep im in here i opened the box’s.” you say loudly while turning you’re head back for a sec.

Angie opens the door fully and taps you’re shoulder “oh my goodness they are so gorgeous I’m dying!” angie says in a joyful tone “yes they are very beautiful ms jolie.” you say while looking at some necklaces that they also sent, “How many times have I told you to not call me ms jolie just call me angelina y/n” “I’m sorry ms jolie crap i mean angelina.” you say in a nervous tone of voice “it’s fine y/n” Angelina says while putting her head in you’re shoulder, you start to blush and angelina sees you blushing but you quickly turn away and hopes she thinks nothing about it.

“we’re you blushing y/n?!” Angelina says in a teasingly tone. “uh..uh no” you say it a very nervous tone, angelina pulls you in and kisses you “I’m sorry y/n i don’t know what i was thinking” angelina says while opening the door to leave “no wait I liked it!” you say while pulling angelina back inside by her hand.

You pull her c in and you start to kiss angelina, slowly adding your tongue to the kiss. You move you around her back. “wow y/n i didn’t know you were a good kisser!” angelina says. angelina continues making out with you and then lifts you up on to her closet island.

angelina slowly slides her hand into your skirt, and starts massaging your inner thigh *you slighty moan* “do you like that?” Angelina says while continuing to massage your inner thigh.

you look at your watch its 2:40 “uhm-ms jolie uh-uhm *you moan slightly* its 2:40 *you moan loud* you have your lunch soon” you say while Angelina keeps pleasuring you. “shit we should stop then” Angelina says .

you both stop and fix your selves up and you help Angelina get ready.

That’s it i know i haven’t posted in a bit sorry

#smut #angelina jolie fluff #angelina jolie x female reader #angelina jolie x reader #angelina jolie smut #angelina jolie

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brooooswriting · 1 year

Note

you can write nat x reader where natasha feels insecure with her body because of the scars but r comforts her and tells her that he loves everything about her and nat feels safe and grateful to have r in her life, i like the way you write you are one of my fav writers

Thank you so much <3

Scars

Natasha romanoff x reader

Natasha always wanted to be like one of the models from those magazines. Not because of their figure or their face, but because of their skin, it was smooth and beautiful while hers wasn’t. Since the beginning of the red room she hated her own skin. It was littered with many scars in various places, some you could only see and some you were able to touch and to her they destroyed everything about her.

You’ve never thought about them like that, they were a part of her so you loved them just as much as you loved her and you honestly didn’t even know that she hated them until one day something rather weird happened.

You were making out on the couch in your room as she sat on your lap and your hands were secured on her hips. at one point your thumb went under the hem of her shirt stroking the skin you could reach. You felt a small bump but didn’t mind it at all as you secretly knew about the scars. Natasha did mine and jumped from your lap, pure panic in her eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did I do something? I’m sorry if I took it too far” you told her also standing up as you did not have a clue what happened. “No, you’re fine, I just - I can’t” she rambled before walking out of the door. To say that you’re confused was an understatement.

Even before your relationship with the redhead you learned that you had to give her a bit of space if she had a problem before confronting her. Normally, when it was enough time she’d give you a sign like sitting next to you or initiating contact.

But it’s been 2 hours and nothing so you became worried. Wanda who was in the kitchen could feel and hear your distress that it was even overwhelming for her. “Y/n what’s wrong?” She asked when she stepped into the living room where you sat. “Nothing? Why do you think that?” You said looking at her. “A - I can read minds, B - your leg is shaking and your zoning out. So come on. Maybe I can help you” she sat next to you squeezing your shoulder.

“…and then she suddenly jumped up and disappeared. I haven’t heard of her since” you ended the story even more stressed than before. “Well, that is weird but maybe you should talk to her about it. It seems like it stresses both of you. She’s on the roof” with that Wanda disappeared.

After another half an hour you couldn’t wait anymore, you didn’t know what was wrong but seeing Natasha hurting was terrible and you wanted to fix it. So you got one of her favourite smoothies and a blanket and went up to the roof. She sat close to the edge looking straight toward playing with one of your rings.

“Hello my love” you greeted her and sat down next to her immediately draping the blanket over you two and giving her the smoothie. “Thank you” she mumbled out before leaning into you. “Do you want to talk about what happened earlier? I want to fix this” You asked wrapping your arm around her to give her the comfort she needed when she did this. “This isn’t fixable” she told you pulling her knees to her chest.

She looked so broken that you couldn’t help but pull her even closer to kiss her forehead. “It’s breaking you, I can’t stand to see you like this so please tell me what’s happened? Did I do something?” You asked causing her to look at you shocked. “What?” She asked. This time you just looked straight ahead. “Did it feel like I wanted to force you to something?”

Now Nat finally realized what you were thinking and it hurt her so she decided that she had to play with open cards. “No it wasn’t you.. it’s just - how can you love me?” “What do you mean ?!” You were confused, she was the greatest person you knew. “How can you like how I look?” She asked more precise this time which confused you even more. “How couldn’t I? You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. You’re perfect” your hand reached out to stroke over her cheek and she leaned into your touch which made your heart melt.

“Really? How can I be perfect with all of these scars?” She asked you and pulled up the hem of her shirt to show on above her hip “with things like these all over my body, here and on my complete back, my thighs, my arms, everything. They aren’t just ugly but also reminder of all the terrible things that I’ve done!” She rambled and only stopped when your eyes filled with so much love and adoration.

“You know what I think? They make you even more beautiful than you already are. They show what a long way you’ve come and all the things you had to encounter to become such a beautiful person” you told her with such passion that her eyes started to fill with tears. “I don’t care about the scars and if I can feel them or see them, I care about you and the person you are my love” you wiped away her tears before lightly kissing her lips. “I don’t know what I would do without you” she told you before kissing you.

She shivered in your arms causing you to stand up and pull her with you. “Where are we going?” She asked as you pulled her inside. “I wanna show you how beautiful you are” you told her and pulled her to your room.

When the door closes you grabbed the hem of her shirt giving her a look that caused her to nod before you pulled it over her head. After taking a second to detect the scars you immediately kissed all of them. “You’re beautiful” you whispered as you kissed one on top of her shoulder before rounding her. “I’m freezing, how about a shower?” She asked and you quickly pulled her to the bathroom with you.

Let’s just say you spend the night worshiping her body and the scars littering it while Nat finally let go of all the doubt she had until now.

The next morning you and Natasha entered the kitchen before the rest of the team. So you put on some music and started making breakfast. Well you tried to teach her how as you stood behind her with one arm wrapped around her, your thump lightly stroking over the scar on her hips.

When the team came downstairs you served breakfast sitting between Nat and Wanda. “Seems like you two made up” Wanda whispered causing you to nod while gazing at Natasha.

You’d never fail to make her feel beautiful ever again

#reader insert #marvel #marvel x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #brooooswriting #natasha romanoff x you #marvel x reader #wanda maximoff

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resowrites · 1 year

Text

The Trees - oneshot.

Summary: A walk in the woods takes an unexpected turn for Henry and his gf…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!OC

Warnings: adult themes, angst, relationship difficulties, dialogue heavy, language, mentions of parental loss/relationship breakdown/su!c!de attempt/appetite loss/panic attack/grief, pregnancy loss, child abuse, fluff, pet names, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2936

A/N: Welp, this was meant to be uploaded ages ago but the themes and my crippling brain fog (yay) meant it took forever. Take care with this one. I’ve tried to write as carefully/sensitively as I can, but please heed the warnings or skip if you’re unsure (your wellbeing is more important). As ever, please enjoy and let me know your thoughts - R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

The Trees - oneshot.

"How about some toast?"

"I'm good, thanks love."

"Why don't you have some fruit then? Or I can make you a smoothie?" Henry began scanning the fridge for other ideas.

"Honestly, I'm not hungry—"

"You have to eat darling—"

"Please can I go back upstairs? I've got so much work to get through…"

"In a little while, we can go sit in the living room if it's more comfortable but you're at least going to have some tea and rest for a bit. Come on." He gently tried to herd her out of the kitchen.

"… I'm gunna go for a walk."

"What? Ollie come back here, you're exhausted—"

"Just for a little while alright? I can't sit around and do nothing." She stopped by the front door and wound a thick scarf twice around her neck.

"But sometimes you have to do that, or—"

"Or what?"

"Darling, you're not sleeping, you're not eating—"

"Henry, I'm just a bit stressed with work, that's all. I'll be back in half an hour."

"Well, wait I'll go with you, you're not going into the woods by yourself—"

"It's fine, I'll take the dogs. Don't you have meetings?"

"My next one's not for another hour and I took the dogs out earlier so we can leave them here." But Copper was already sitting by her feet, her head tilting in confusion.

***

"She's a cheeky little bugger, every morning now she sits waiting by the front door for walkies." Henry chuckled.

"She's getting so big..."

"Tell me about it, soon she'll be jumping up into the airing cupboard like Kal. You know I found the little shit in there again this morning? Can't really blame him with weather like this though, it's brass monkeys. Are you sure you're warm enough?" She hummed back but otherwise, his attempt at conversation had fallen flat. She was still walking slightly ahead, lost in her own thoughts. He tried again. "So what's going on with work at the moment? I thought you were over the first couple of hurdles?"

"Freelancing's not that straightforward, unfortunately."

"Well is it anything I might be able to help with?"

"It's lovely of you to offer but I'll be alright. There'll be other contracts if I don't secure this one."

"That'a girl… how are you feeling at the moment though? In yourself, I mean?"

"Okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah, so what's your meeting about this afternoon?"

"Don't change the subject, Ollie—"

"I'm not—"

"Then can you tell me how you are?" She sighed and stopped abruptly.

"I just did!"

"Well I heard you on the phone this morning—"

"You were listening to my call?"

"No, I just heard the end of it when I came upstairs. Did your therapist need to change your appointment?"

"No, that wasn't them. They've… referred me to someone else."

"What, why?"

"Cos we're not a good fit." Henry waited for her to continue but instead, her eyes remained fixed on the floor. He tried another tack.

"Before I forget, your sister also rang me. She tried to get through but you must have still been on the phone. Your father's funeral is next week, do you think you're up to going?"

"No."

"Well, shall we wait and see how you feel?"

"No, I'm not going."

"Why not? It might help you start drawing a line under everything—"

"Henry, my mother doesn't really want me there, she just can’t get away with not asking."

"Well fuck what she wants, you need the closure—"

"There's no such thing."

"Of course there is—"

"No, there isn't. That's not how real life works." Henry waited a beat before responding.

"You know you can talk to me about him?"

"Henry, I said I'm okay—" he stopped finally and waited for her to do the same.

"No you're not, you've not been right for months. You've not even been eating properly since December. I'm really worried Ollie. I want us to get married in the spring, start planning for the future—" something then clicked in her mind.

"Wait, what did my sister tell you?"

"What?"

"What did she say, Henry?" Her voice had risen in alarm.

"Darling, it was nothing I didn't already suspect—"

"So you know everything? Henry, it was a long time ago, I was desperate—"

"Ollie what are you talking about? We discussed your father but that was it—"

"No, no this can't be happening…" she clasped the sides of her head in shock.

"Whoa, you're alright, look at me." She struggled to stay standing. "Ok, let's find somewhere to sit, come on." Fortunately, they were nearing the wood’s halfway point, which was marked by an old wooden bench. Henry was relieved to see it was empty and promptly sat her down. "There, now. Take some deep breaths darling, slow down for me. Just focus on my hand." He continued rubbing her back until her breathing came under control. She managed to fight off the attack, but only just.

"Can we… go home, please?" Henry pulled a water bottle from his pocket and helped her drink from it.

"Let's stay here for a bit, just until you're steadier on your feet." The next few minutes passed uneasily. "I really wish you'd unburden yourself though—" she scoffed and staggered upwards, turning to face him directly.

"So I can burden you instead?"

"Ollie sit back down. There will never be anything you can't tell me—" but she cut him off.

"Well thanks to my sister, I now don't have a choice, do I? God, I can't believe this..." she wearily took a seat, holding her head in her hands for several moments. "Fine. If you really want the truth I'll give it to you." When she finally spoke again, both her eyes and voice were strangely flat. "My last fiancé and I didn't mutually split. He just woke up one day and decided he wanted out. There were no signs, there wasn't even anyone else, he just didn't love me anymore. It was like the sky had fallen in. The pain was just… indescribable. He loved me like no one ever had before and as the days started to blend together I became convinced that it would always end that way, that the fundamental problem was me. I mean if my own father could stop loving me, what hope would there be for any other man?

"One night, a couple of months after we split, I woke up with what I thought at first was just a stomach ache. How I kept it together in the taxi I'll never know. I vaguely remember bleeding as I walked into A&E but the rest is just a blur of pain and vomit. Before I know it, I'm in a hospital bed being told I lost a sixteen-week pregnancy. I was just so… stunned. I kept asking the doctor to repeat himself. I mean you know what my periods are like and to be honest, by that point I'd already lost most of my sense of time. I hadn't had a single symptom, not one," she paused, "they couldn't tell me if it was a boy or a girl. I asked if I could at least say goodbye… they advised against it. After that apparently, I just kept screaming," she swallowed hard, "the nurses felt so sad for me.

"I remember before I was signed out, one of them asked if my partner was on his way to collect me. I just lied and said yes. She then said to me, 'remember you can always try again,'" she quickly cleared her throat to disguise her voice breaking, "I didn't tell my sister what happened. She pulled up outside my place, made me promise to call her later on and when I got out of the car I realised I was supposed to be getting married that day. I don't know, something inside of me finally just snapped. I don't remember much of what happened then either. One minute I was in my bathroom, and the next I was back in the hospital being told I'd suffered minor organ damage. If my sister hadn't stopped by when she did, worried why she hadn't heard from me, I probably wouldn't have survived.

"Eventually, she managed to convince them to let me leave so I could stay with her. She lives on a beautiful street, lined with cherry blossom trees. My nieces greeted me at the door excitedly, even the sky was bright blue that day. But I never felt more lost and alone than at that moment. In the end, my sister had to take six months off work to care for me, and that combined with the strongest medication my doctor could prescribe, only just helped me pull through. A year later Clare dragged me to that party and… there you were. I wanted so badly not to like you—" she finally broke down, her exhausted sobs splashing tears all over her lap. For her sake, Henry held back his own. Up to that point, he'd resisted interrupting or touching her, but he couldn't bare it any longer. He cupped her face firmly with both hands.

"Ollie, do you love me?"

"More than anything. It's why I proposed. I wanted to do everything with you—"

"Then that's all that matters—" she pushed his hands away.

"No, because we're not equals in this relationship Henry, we never have been and we never will be."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," she sighed, "you could have literally anyone…" she trailed off, defeated for the moment.

"… You know, when I spoke to your sister, she told me how one night you were late back home from playing with your friends so you hadn't yet done your homework. Your father then locked you out in the back garden for the rest of the night. She said you didn't ask her or your other sister for help because you didn't want to get them in trouble too. You just stayed out there all alone, in the freezing cold. And I wondered to myself, how many times you've felt like that little girl ever since, even in this relationship—"

"Henry—"

"She told me she suspected other things happened as well, stuff she couldn't bring herself to talk about."

"You weren't supposed to know any of that!"

"Why not?!"

"Oh God…"

"Ollie please, it's okay—"

"How? How can any of this be okay?!" Her face was so distraught, his stomach sank. He rubbed his eyes.

"… This is my fault. If I hadn't been away so much, kept you closer, none of this would have happened—"

"No, please, this isn't on you—"

"I even bought you the puppy and the cottage because of how guilty I felt!"

"But the distance worked for me too! I could get attached to you but not completely. It felt safer."

"And now?"

"Now it all just… hurts." Henry grabbed her hands.

"Ollie, whatever happened before doesn't change anything. I'm here, alright? You're safe now—"

"Except I don't think I'll ever feel that way completely—"

"I'll still be here—" she flew up from the bench and started pacing, her tears flowing freely once more.

"No, no. You deserve better. Someone who's sunny, healthy… as successful as you. For fuck's sake I don't even come from a normal family. When I walked out in December, it was because I felt I had to. I will always want what's best for you and… I know that doesn't include me." He dashed forwards, clamping her shoulders to keep her still.

"Do you think when we first met, I couldn't see the pain in your eyes? I also saw the decency, the humanity - I knew you weren't playing hard to get for the sake of it in the same way I knew you'd never hurt me deliberately. Let's go to therapy together—"

"You don't have to do that—"

"But I want to! I haven't done enough and you are so worth fighting for - we are worth fighting for. I love what we have because it's real and that's so, so rare Ollie." Her head fell to her chest.

"The doctor who spoke to me earlier was a trauma therapist. I was praying they'd tell me I didn't need their help. The worst of it is, I always thought I was a strong person. What I experienced wasn't even unusual. I mean people fall out of love, lose babies, have breakdowns, every single day. And it all could have been so much worse. But it still nearly destroyed me. I just can't go through any of that again."

"… Did you give your baby a name?"

"No, no… it didn't go that far. I couldn't let it. But in my head, I still talk to her sometimes. I don't know why I imagine her as a girl, it's just what feels right. It's incredible really, she would have been no bigger than the palm of my hand but the love that you feel… the longing." Her voice caught in her throat. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't intend to tell anyone. I just thought that if I failed in her life, I could at least protect her in death—"

"You didn't fail anyone—" he quickly stopped himself and instead pulled her into his arms. "I love you, Ollie."

"I love you too."

***

Two weeks later.

"Mmm it's warm out there today, look at that sky." Henry slid the cup along the counter. Ollie glanced up briefly from her laptop and hummed. "Why don't we take our coffee outside?" To his surprise, she stood up from her chair.

"That sounds nice." Henry smiled and led her into their garden, with Kal and Copper following closely behind. What she didn't expect to see, opposite the bench that was tucked away in her favourite spot, was a newly planted cherry blossom tree. He sat her down carefully, waited for the dogs to lie down beside her, and then went to fetch something from the base of it. When Henry joined her again, he was holding what looked to be a clear container.

"I've planted this tree so that, every time you miss your daughter, you can come out here and spend some time with her." He carefully removed a small notepad and pen from the container. "And whenever you need to talk, you can write it in here, put it in the box and leave it by the tree for her." She was so overwhelmed at first she couldn't even look at him. When she did, tears spilled down her face.

"I… I don't know even know what to say… I can't thank you enough. Not just for this, but for everything—"

"You will never need to thank me, darling, ever." She chose her next words carefully.

"I know I've struggled to tell you often enough, let alone show you how much I appreciate it, but you're a good man. The best I've known. And just because she was my first," she glanced towards the tree, "it doesn't mean she has to be my last."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, it might be difficult—"

"Then I'll do everything I can to make it easier."

"... You know I'd marry you right now if I could?"

"Then why don't we?"

"What?"

"Well, why not?"

"But... I'm not even dressed nicely!"

"Stop it, you've never looked more beautiful. Right, we've got the dogs as witnesses so come on," Henry gently pulled her to her feet, "let's get straight to it."

"Are you sure? Everything's already been arranged?" His heart lept at her playful smile. How he'd missed it.

"That one's for the well-wishers, this is just for us. Are you ready?" She smiled and nodded. "Good. Then I, Henry Cavill, take you, Ollie Hadden, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. I will love and honor you all the days of my life." Henry removed the promise ring from her right hand and slipped it onto her ring finger. She swallowed back her tears, smiling.

"And I, Ollie Hadden, take you, Henry Cavill, for my lawful Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. I will love and honor you all the days of my life." She then moved his promise ring to the correct hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Henry brushed the tears off his cheeks, "that's just the first time you've called me your husband." They beamed at each other and finally kissed. In the end, he didn't know how long they'd stood holding each other, but when he glanced down, she was gazing at the tree.

"When you're ready, come inside and I'll make you some lunch." Henry then kissed the top of her head and disappeared into the house with both dogs trailing after him.

She took a seat on the bench, picked up the notebook, and wrote several lines. When she was finished, she carefully put the container back in the same spot. It was when she glanced up that she noticed small buds on the tree. Soon they'd be open and before long the garden would be strewn with blossom. She couldn't think any further ahead but for the moment she didn't need to. For once her mind had fallen silent and she was content to rejoin her husband.

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine

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