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fallingintoyourlilaceyes · 7 months

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Peakaboo! I see you... (modern!Stalker!Aegon II Targaryen x reader)

synopsis: You have always felt safe in your own home, shutting out the scary, real world. Unknowing, that someone stared at you through the large windows almost every day and night. But a window is just glass, and glass… oh it breaks so, so easily…

warnings: Dark fic, non-con, slight somnophilia, stalking, obsession, mentions of alcohol and drinking, afab reader, angst, fluff, smut, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex

word count: 8k

taglist: @urmomsgirlfriend1, @agqrtz

(If you want to be tagged in the `kissing booth AU´, for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

a/n: So, in honor of spooky season I started rewatching `You´ and this is what happened. Let me know if I missed any tw´s or anything. I hope y´all enjoy!! <3

When you had moved to King´s landing you found yourself alone and truly scared for the first time in your life. Fleabottom wasn´t the safest place to begin with, but it was the only thing you could afford while attending Uni, leaving you very little safe spaces. One of them being your friend Sarah Snow´s place and the other, your own apartment. Where you could shut out the scary real world with the turn of a key and multiple locks. Cuddling into your bed with your phone, the tv providing the only source of light in the apartment. It´s still early in the evening, but you had always valued a quiet night in over going out to some shitty bar or club or party, like your friends did. You silently shake your head at the thought of Sarah, Aly and Cassandra getting hammered at some party right now. And as if they heard your thoughts your phone starts to ring with an incoming videocall.

“Hey girl!” Aly exclaimed the second you accept the call. Making you hold the phone a little further away at the sheer volume of her voice. You can see your other two friends in the background, getting ready for going out.

“Hey, Aly. What are you up to?” You ask in a much quieter tone.

“We´re going out tonight.” By the way her words slur ever so slightly it is clear that the three of them had been pregaming.

“Okay, but… Why are you calling me? You know I am not in on the whole party thing.” A feeling in your gut told you, that a plan was afoot. A plan you wouldn´t like as much as sitting at home and watching movies.

“You´re coming with us. That´s why.” Cassandra´s voice sounds from the background.

“Oh no. No. No. No.” You insist.

“No, no talking back this time. Your gonna like it. I promise. There is this really niche bar, that has an open mic thing tonight for anyone that wants to share their work. It will be great.” Cassandra tries to convince you in a sweet voice.

“Ugh. Cas, Aly…”

“Come on. You always whine about being insecure about your writing. This could be great for you.” Sometimes you really hated your friends persistence. Especially when her points weren´t even half bad.

“Alright, fine. Send me the address and give me an hour to get ready.” You hear them cheering as you rub your eyes with the hand that isn´t holding up the phone. “But I won´t get behind that microphone. No matter what you say.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get yourself presentable and come down. We´ll meet you there.” Just as suddenly as they had called you, they hang up again.

You throw your phone to the side and sigh deeply. Running your hands over your face, followed by bringing them down onto your upper thighs in an attempt to motivate yourself. Of course it doesn´t work and so, with another sigh you turn the tv off and hop into the shower. The warm water feels nice on your skin and when the time to step out, the typical feeling of not wanting to leave overcomes you. But you have to get ready if you don’t want to get shit from Sarah or Cas, so you force yourself to put on some light makeup and grab the next best clothes from your closet, that make you look presentable. Looking at the location of the bar you realize that it is only a few subway stops from your place and so you grab your phone, keys and wallet and head out to the station closest to your place. Checking twice if the pepper spray is still in your purse.

You walk down the stairs just in time for the subway to arrive.

When you arrive at the bar Sarah, Cassandra and Aly are already waiting outside. Greeting you with a mutually hollered “Babes!!”

“Heyyy!” You mirror their tone. Putting on a wide smile to not let them see how tired you really were.

Together the four of you enter the bar and the first thing you notice over the low chatter is how stuffed it is already. You barely find a table that fits all of you and immediately order a round of shots. A good choice as it turns out, because you barely have time to put down your coat, when you hear your name announced over the mic. A frown flits over your face, but you don´t have the heart or maybe the energy for a discussion now, so you pound back another shot and get up on the small makeshift stage. You sit down on the uncomfortable bar stool and introduce yourself. Beginning to read the latest excerpt from the book you were writing that you still have on your phone. The audience honestly doesn´t give much of a reaction, aside from your friend´s aggressive cheers. And the spotlight blinds you a bit, letting your anxiety practically spike. You can hear your voice shake as you read. Your hands and legs still tremble when you finally get back to the table.

“Y´all are such assholes. I told you I didn´t wanna read…” You protested as you take a drink from them.

“Aw, you were great either way, babes. Now come on. Let´s enjoy the evening.” Sarah tries to keep peace, laying a soothing hand on your arm. You know she means well. All of them do, but you still feel kind of hurt, that they had gone behind your back like that.

Over all the commotion and the people that read after you, you completely ignore the blonde stranger who, ever since you had entered the bar, couldn´t seem to turn his eyes away from you. Blissfully unaware of the dark thoughts behind them. And it stays that way until you leave. Tipsy, staggering up to the uber under his hidden watchful eyes. You close the door behind you and push the feeling of being watched aside as a side effect of being a woman alone in the outside world. He follows you in his own car. Thoughts of needing to have you and being the one for you swirling in his mind and possessing his every thought. Your mind however is occupied with the need for sleep and so he goes easily unnoticed. Looking through the widow of your ground level apartment as you undress and go to bed in only your underwear. He can even count himself lucky enough to go unnoticed by you over the next few days as you follow your usual routine. Going to the gym, the library, lessons, grocery shopping. Whatever you do, his eyes are on you. Until he is sure he knows your schedule by heart. Moving him along to step two of his plan.

You meet up with your friends at a bar again. A different one this time and on your own accord. It was the last day before spring break and them all leaving to visit home. All of them except for you. You don´t mind not going home so much as being alone for a whole week. So, you make sure to enjoy the evening with them and once again ignore the feeling of being watched that had sat in the back of your brain for the past week or so. And when you go to get another round of drinks, that´s when he strikes.

You make your way over to the bar. Not really looking where you are going, when you run into someone. Their drink spilling all over the front of your shirt. You jump back as the wet fabric clings to your skin.

“Woah, I´m so sorry. Are you okay?” The stranger gives you a bright smile, flashing his perfect teeth. A smile that reaches his lilac eyes. Making them sparkle and crinkling their corners. He holds out some napkins for the stain that steadily grows more uncomfortable.

“Thank you. Yes, no. Yeah, I´m alright. Uh, I´m sorry too. I totally didn´t watch where I was going.” You tap at the stain in order to hopefully take some of it off. Smiling back at him. You can´t help but to. “Let me buy you a new drink. To make up for all of that.”

“No, no. I should buy you one. I totally ruined your shirt. I insist.” He is so effortlessly sympathetic that you couldn´t even protest against his words if you wanted to.

“Okay.” Youn nod and follow him to the bar, where you sit down together.

“I´m Aegon, by the way.” He extends his hand for you to shake, which you do while offering up your name.

“It´s nice to meet you, Aegon.” The two of you order drinks and fall into conversation easily. Talking about anything and everything until you feel your phone vibrate inside of your pocket. Pulling it out you see Cassandra´s name on the screen. Reminding you of who you actually came here with and why.

Another glance at the clock tells you, that it is well past midnight.

“Shit, I didn´t realize it was that late already.” You turn to him to say goodbye. Ready to never see this handsome not so strange stranger ever again, when he makes you another offer.

“Want me to drive you home? It´s probably not safe out there at this time of night.”

“That would actually be so great, but I´d hate to inconvenience you. I probably live in the whole other direction from where you need to go.” You rub your neck. Taking a step back, ready to leave to say goodbye to your friends.

“Come on, it would be my pleasure to do that for you. I would hate for something to happen to you on your way home. Just say yes.” Aegon´s gaze is so intense and there is only one thought behind them, that the alcohol has made you ignorant of to his luck. If you leave alone now, he wasted his chance.

You sigh. “Okay, alright. Thank you so much. I just need to say bye to my friends and then we can go.”

He offers you his jacket to hide the stained shirt and then follows your lead back to the table.

“Hey, girls. I´m super sorry I just dipped, but I met Aegon and he´s gonna drive me home now. I´ll explain tomorrow. Okay?”

“Yeah, alright. Just be safe and don´t do anything we wouldn´t do.” They wink at you and turn back to their conversation as you and Aegon make your way outside to his car.

Ever so gentlemanly he opens the door to the passenger side of the golden Mercedes s-class for you, making you curtsy jokingly and giggle, then walks around to the driver side, to get in himself.

The two of you find your way back into the conversation and so you don´t even realize that you never actually told him were you lived. Nevertheless he pulls up in front of your apartment complex in no time.

“I had a really nice evening with you tonight.” He says with another wide grin and soft chuckle.

“Me too. And I´m sorry again for that drink. One would think that at my age I would´ve learned how to watch where I´m going.” You run a hand through your hair. Still slightly embarrassed about your carelessness.

“No, again, it is fine. I should have watched my steps as well, but if you really want to apologize you could give me your number? And we could meet up again some time. I´m guessing you´re on spring break too now.” It´s almost frustrating how good he looks with his head tilted and those beautiful lilac puppy dog eyes. If there was any doubt about wanting to see him again, they are all gone now. You need to see him again. So, you pull out your phone and give him your number.

“Don´t let me wait too long before I hear from you.” You give him one last smile before exiting the car. He sits in the car until you close the building door behind you and then parks his car around the corner to go back and observe you for a bit longer without being overly obvious.

Through the large windows Aegon watches you like every night of the past week. Stepping out of your clothes, doing your nightly skincare routine, before slipping on the smallest pair of pajamas he had ever seen and slip underneath the covers to watch some more tv. Falling asleep in front of it. All with an almost dorky smile. He thinks you are the cutest thing he has ever seen. The way you are so excited about your little meeting is something he has never seen in his life and he is instantly hooked. Fantasies about you being all excited and running up to him when he enters the apartment after a long day out enter his mind. Thoughts about sharing the sweetest kisses. When he opens his eyes he sees something that isn´t as innocent as he first perceived you.

Your hands caress your breasts and wander bellow the blanket, your back arching as they enter your core.

Aegon lets out a breathless curse. His own hand wandering inside his pants to tug on his length. His thoughts turn instantly. From innocent kisses to you arching your back up until your breasts touch his chest. Writhing and squirming underneath him from the pleasure he is giving you. Your tight walls fluttering around his cock as you come from the circles his thumb rubs into your clit. He has to clamp his hand over his mouth so you don´t hear him moan outside of your window. Once he´s finished, he leaves. Not wanting to push his luck, but definitely looking forward to the next time he´d see you.

The next morning you text the girls group chat. Apologizing for your behavior the previous night, by telling them every detail about the conversation with Aegon. How nice he was to you and how you thought that maybe, after a couple more dates, you could say he is the one. And as if he smelled you were talking about him in that moment you get a message from Aegon. Asking you out for coffee. You try to hide the smile that forces its way onto your mouth by biting your lower lip, even though there is no one there to hide it from. You answer him quickly and this time take a little extra time getting ready. Facetiming Aly, who is the only one that isn´t on a plane yet, to consult her on what best to wear. Even if she teases you relentlessly about being so nervous about a simple coffee date.

The truth is you haven´t been out on an actual date in years. Not after your last boyfriend had broken up with you for reasons only known to that absolute piece of shit. You had wasted three years pf your life on him and he couldn´t even give you a reason as to why he didn´t want to be with you anymore all of a sudden.

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves and hopefully stop the bouncing on your leg. Entering the small café he had asked you out to where you find him already sat at a table. A half smirk spreads his face. And by the seven you have to calm yourself down not to do anything embarrassing as a result of the glee you feel upon seeing him.

“Hey, I didn´t make you wait too long did I?” You ask bashfully.

“No worries. I basically just sat down.” He assures you. Watching with careful eyes as you take of your coat to reveal the dress you had chosen with Aly´s help and are now second guessing if the choice hadn´t been a bit too revealing.

“Phew, I´m glad to hear that. I hate making people wait for me.” You wipe away an imaginary drop of sweat and chuckle.

“Nah, you´re good.” He goes to say something else, but in that moment a waitress interrupts him to take your order. Which of course Aegon makes a mental note of. Just like anything he had learned about you so far. The waitress, an older woman, seems to recognize the nature of your meeting and how nervous you are and gives you an encouraging smile. You smile back at her and make sure to remember to tip her later.

“Alright so, normally I´d ask how you have been, but since we last saw each other last night I guess did you come home well yesterday?” You quipped.

“Yeah, I did. How about you?” The two of you share a laugh. Without the alcohol in your system he seems even more effortlessly charming. Coffee gets followed by dinner, which he invites you to. Talking about family, life, dreams and aspirations. You tell him about your parents’ divorce, the relationship you have with all of them, how studying and writing is going. How your dream is to be published one day. You open up to him more than you ever have to anyone in that short amount of time and he listens. He listens so well. Telling you about his studies and his father’s company, that he will inherit one day, yet he never makes you feel small compared to him, like others would probably make you feel. It would be easy to, but he just doesn´t. And your feelings for him grow ever stronger. He even persists on paying for you. Saying that you could pay the next dinner, but the two of you are aware that you could never earn enough money to pay a meal this expensive.

At the end of the day he drops you off at home once more, but when you hug him goodbye whispering “Thank you so much. I had such a great time today.” Into his ear he goes in for a kiss.

It’s a possessive claiming of your mouth kind of kiss. All clashing teeth and heavy bursts of breath. Wandering hands, pulling on clothes in a needy attempt to get the close proximity you both want so deeply. He pulls the air from your lungs only to breath it back into them a second later. It´s hard to do, but in the end you manage to pull away.

“It´s late. We should continue this another time.” You whisper with your forehead resting against his shoulder. Everything inside of you screams to keep going, but your brain told you to take it slow. To savor it.

“Okay. I can´t wait.” He lays a peck on the shell of your ear. Letting you go reluctantly. “Text me when you get home.”

You chuckle and step out of the car. Pulling out your phone the second you close the door behind you to text him a quick `I´m home. Had such a great time with you. Can´t wait to do this again <3´.

He watches the glow of the screen vanish behind the large window. Replying with a `Same. Sweet dreams<3´, but this time he doesn´t stay around to watch you. Instead he goes home to sink into one of the dreams he had ever since he met you. One where he watches you sleep in the morning, the rising sun and the way you lay sprawled out beside him making you look like an utter goddess. And then you wake up to give him a smile that makes him feel like he has a heart attack. It feels so real that when he wakes up to another text from you, he has to pull himself together to not mess up his carefully hatched out plan. His train of thought gets interrupted by his phone ringing.

“Good morning…” Your raspy morning voice comes out of the speaker. You sound absolutely gorgeous to him. Making his eyes roll back into his head a little.

“Good morning, doll. What´s up?” The smirk on his face is audible in his voice.

“Nothing much. I just wanted to hear your voice.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Oh gods, that sounded so cheesy. I´m sorry.”

“Hey, you´re good. I actually think that´s really cute.” He muses.

“Oh? Well, I guess I don´t have to feel like it is too soon when I tell you I had the weirdest dream tonight.” You chuckle and clear your throat from the sleepiness.

“Really? Do tell.”

“I don´t know. I can only remember that we were together, in my apartment and I guess you were watching me sleep and it felt so real… I probably sound so weird right now.” You scoff at yourself. Wondering why you even told him that.

He on the other hand chuckles at your confession. Cursing himself out in his mind, to will himself to stay strong.

“I had the same dream. I hope you don´t think I´m like a stalker or obsessed or something now.” His tone is lighthearted, but the gods now he needs you to stay unconscious of that side of him. No, he wasn´t any of those things. He was looking out for you. You meant a lot to him and that meant he wanted to protect you. “So, you know. You at least aren´t weirder than I am.”

Sadly you have a shit ton to study, before spring break ends and so you aren’t able to meet again in the coming days. Of course that doesn´t mean that he can´t see you though. The feeling of being watched follows you around like a burning shadow throughout that time. Yet you push it away. Telling yourself that it was probably just exam stress or social anxiety or something. Which Aegon, knowing you as well as he does, is grateful for. Usually he would hate to see you anxious or stressed, wanting to take all that burdens you off you, but when it came to him getting caught… Well, not that he was doing anything wrong, but experience has taught him, that people tended to see things differently from him.

So he stays hidden. Texting and calling you every day and watching you sink your fingers or a toy into your sweet cunt each night. Every time he is overcome by thoughts of how you would make so much sweeter sounds if it was his length that your walls where fluttering around as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over you. Each time he reminds himself anew that things are going steady with you and it would only be a short while until those thoughts became a reality.

On one of those evenings you surprise him with another call. Curses fall from his lips under his breath as he scrambles around the corner, praying that you haven´t heard his phone.

“Hey…” He says after pressing the green button on the screen.

“Hey, is this a bad time? You sound kinda out of breath.” Your voice chirps on the line.

“No, you could never call at a bad time.” Except for now kinda. “What´s up? Didn´t you say you wanted to write all day?”

“Yeah, I did. When my friends come back tomorrow there will be little chance to do so uninterrupted, but um… I couldn´t focus. Like at all.” You murmur.

“Oh, can I do anything to help?” he purrs.

“You could get some Starbucks and come over?” You ask in the most tempting voice you could offer. Not that he needed much persuasion to tend to any of your wishes as soon as you asked.

“Sure. I´m on my way.”

“You´re the best. Thanks.” You chirp and then the only thing that can be heard on this side of the line is the tone of the disconnected call from the device in his hand. Sprinting to his car, he almost drops his keys in anticipation at the prospect of spending time with you. Basically racing to your favorite coffee shop to get coffee, and some pastries he knew would be more than happy about right now. He knew, knowing everything about you would come in handy one day.

At the same time you put your laptop to the side. Trying to find something to pass the time until he would arrive. Which was harder to do than you would have thought and so with nothing to do, you decide to put some effort in your little meeting. Sitting down in front of the small closet to look for a cute dress to put in. Getting ready just in time for a knock on the door.

“Come in, it´s open.” You yell as you go to sit back down on the couch.

“You know, you probably shouldn´t leave your door unlocked in this neighborhood. Whoa…” He stops in the doorway when he sees you.

“Wh-What?” You tilt your head and look at him with confusion in your wide eyes. You look so innocent right now.

“Do you always write like that?” Aegon puts down the snacks and vaguely motions to your outfit of choice. “Cause… If so, I want to always be around for it.”

You can´t hide the snorting laughter that forces it´s way out of your lungs. “That´s really sweet, but no. I usually don´t look like this at all when I write. In fact I usually look so much worse you would want to stay as far away from me as possible.”

“I seriously doubt I anything in this world could ever make me want to stay away from you.” Aegon lays his gentle hands on your shoulders and a feeling of warmth spreads in your guts.

You look up at him through your lashes and before you know it your eyes flutter close. Then, a moment later, your lips meet his in the most gentle kiss ever. And you don´t know when things escalate. If it is when your hands come up to cup his cheeks. If it is when you stand on your tip toes to make it easier to deepen the kiss ever so slightly or when his tongue presses against your lower lip to silently ask for entrance. The result is the same. The two of you forgot about why he came over in the first place and abandon everything to make yourselves more comfortable in the bedroom. Rolling around the mattress as you make out heavily. His hands are everywhere on your body at the same time, just as yours are on his. Each touch feels like the right thing to do. The only thing that feels even more right is the way he sinks himself into your tight, warm walls. Like he had wanted from the moment he first saw you.

He´s so careful not to hurt you and as you lay in his arms afterwards, cuddled close, his finger drawing small patterns on your shoulder, you can´t hold back the smile. This is the fastest you have ever gone this far with a person. Mostly out of fear, that they would only want to use you for it. Yet even after only one official date with him, you know there is no reason to be afraid. It´s almost funny how shortly you have known each other and yet you rely on him for everything. He knows you so well already, has an incredible gift of listening and observing, like no one else you had met before. Ever. Before you notice it, a giggle falls from your lips, just as he kisses your temple.

“What´s so funny, doll?” Fuck, even the nickname you usually hated sounded so good from his lips.

“Nothing, just… I just thought about how shortly we´ve known each other and yet we know so much about each other already. I never had that.” You say in an amused tone.

“I´m gonna go ahead and take that as a good thing.” He huffs a chuckle.

“Oh yes, definitely. I honestly love how open we can be with each other.” Oh if only you knew.

“Me too.” He mumbles into the crown of your head. Placing another peck there.

As it turns out it isn´t only the first time you sleep with him, but also the first time you spend the night together. Your activities had robbed all of your energy and with a little more quiet chatter, the two of you slide of into slumberland.

You are sad to watch him leave the next morning, but the alarm on your phone, that interrupts your romantic little breakfast that Aegon had cooked, painfully reminds you, that you promised to pick up Aly from the airport.

“I´ll call you later, okay?” You promise him as he steps out of your car.

“I can´t wait already.” He replies.

You make your way to meet your friend and of course he follows you once again. Extra careful that you don´t see his car. It wasn´t necessarily low-key after all. Things are easier once he follows you into a café that looks like no ordinary student could pay for the food there already, keeping a close eye on you as you and your friend order brunch, nothing unconventional from what you have told him about her and your other friends. He starts to toy with the idea of leaving to not get caught, when something Aly says makes his ears perk up.

“So, how is it going with your new favorite person?” Her tone is light and she wiggles her eyebrows at you.

“I already told you to stop calling him that.” You laugh at her antics. “And don´t even try calling him my boyfriend. We haven´t even been on two dates yet.”

“Yeah, alright. Not even on two dates, but he has also been inside of you and has spent the night at your place after getting you snacks simply because you asked him to…” she shoots you an unbelieving look. “Like seriously. And you haven´t even told me all the dirty little details yet. Bitch, you owe me. I thought we were friends.”

If his heart beat higher before, when the word boyfriend left your lips, it beats even higher now at the mention of your night together.

“There´s not much to tell.” You try to deflect.

Not much to tell? He asks himself. He thought he had done better than `not much to tell´.

“Oh hells no. You know I won´t let you off that easy.” She persists.

“Alright. Okay. It was great. He was so sweet and made sure to make me come like two times before he thought about himself. You happy now?” You try to keep your voice down as much as possible so the people around you don´t hear. Which is only a half success as Aly´s squeal gets you some of the unwanted attention anyway.

“Was he big?” Her question earns a shocked expression and gasp from you. And a concealed giggle from Aegon.

“I mean I guess. You know I don´t have much to compare it to, but I´d say he was solid.” You shrug. “Now can we please change the topic? How was your time with the family.”

Aly starts on a rant about everything her family did and said and so Aegon decides to go before he truly overtaxes his luck.

As he walks by the window you are sitting close to, you think it is him, weighing the options of saying something or not, deciding against it. You were just imagining things, because Aly was talking without a single pause and you missed him. You sigh, trying to concentrate on whatever your friend was talking about.

When you finally get home it is late afternoon already and you are pretty tired, but you can´t pass up on the call you promised Aegon.

“Hello there.” He picks up.

“General Kenobi.” You answer in the fashion that the Star wars quote commands.

“How did it go with your friend?” He asks feigning genuine interest as if he hadn´t been there for the most interesting part.

“Yeah, it went well. I just got home, basically.” You sigh and rub your eyes, who were burning for some reason.

“Wow.” He huffs amusedly.

“You can say that loudly. I originally planned on asking you if you want to come over, but I totally forgot that I have an early class tomorrow that I need to prepare something for. This week is gonna kick my ass…”

“Ah, damn. So how about we meet up Friday evening? I could pick you up and we could check out this new bar that just opened.” He suggests. Knowing already what this meant for the coming days.

“That would be so cool.” A yawn interrupts what you were saying. “Gods I´m sorry I´m really tired. Would you be mad if we hang up now and I´ll text you again before class?”

“Not at all. You go ahead and do your thing. I´ll hear from you tomorrow.” He reassures you.

“Thank you. Good night, Aeg.” You chirp.

“You have a good night too and don´t overdo it with the studying.”

“I won´t, mom.” Your faux annoyed tone gets broken up by one last chuckle before the two of you hang up. You always laugh so much with him. More than with anyone else and at the same time your deep talks are on such a level you don´t know how to express it to your friends.

You have always felt safe in your own home, shutting out the scary, real world. Unknowing, that someone stared at you through the large windows almost every day and night. But a window is just glass, and glass… oh it breaks so, so easily…

Friday takes forever to roll around, but when it finally does, nothing can wipe the smile from your face. Your mood is basically indestructible. As is his. You sing and dance your way all through out getting ready and when Aegon rings the bell you open the door with a spring in your step.

“Someone´s in a good mood.” Aegon muses.

“Just happy about seeing you.” You admit. Hugging him and kissing his cheek as a greeting. “Lemme just grab my purse and then we can go.”

You lock the door behind you and together he drives you out to a place that can hardly be classified as a bar. Upon entering the place you feel massively underdressed, but he doesn´t seem to care. He is just happy to be there with you and you are happy to be there with him. He asks about your week and how your writing is going while you sip one drink after another until you feel a light buzz. The alcohol making your insides feel as warm as his presence and his hand on your thigh do. Over the duration of the evening you gradually move closer, but by the time he drops you off, he lets you go with just a quick peck to your lips.

“Thank you for the nice evening.” You rub your eyes. Wanting to say something, anything to stay close to him just a bit longer, but your tired and tipsy mind can´t come up with anything.

“With you it´s always a nice evening. Now go on. Get to bed before you fall asleep in the passenger seat.” He squeezes your thigh one last time before he lets you open the door to head inside.

As always he parks his car around the corner to watch you until you fall asleep, but somehow tonight something is different.

Aegon feels a strange sensation tugging at his heart. A longing. To have you right this second. He doesn´t know what comes over him, but without a second thought he takes one of the stones in front of your window and throws it at the glass. It was meant to tap the glass, at least that´s what he tells himself, but instead it breaks it.

Fuck, Aegon curses under his breath, praying to the seven or any other deity that is willing to hear him that you didn´t wake up from the commotion. When your apartment stays silent, he decides that it isn´t safe for you alone with the broken window situation. It takes a few tries, but in the end he manages to climb through it. Keen on not making to much noise while walking over the shards on the ground, he tiptoes over to your bed.

You lay with your back towards the free side and so it is easy for him to slide in under the covers as well. He presses his chest as close to your back as possible, his hand laying innocently but protectively over your waist.

Aegon kisses your temple and silently promises to not close an eye, to watch over you, all night.

But the night is long and having you so close to him, smelling your shampoo and feeling your hips rub against his every time you shift in your sleep, makes it hard to keep his hand there. It also made him hard. The next time you shift in your sleeping state, his hand wanders down to your thighs. Once more and it lands trapped between them. Gently caressing your slit through the thin material of your leggings.

You sigh and stir lightly at his touch, but don´t wake up. Instead you just press yourself closer to him in your unconscious state. The action prompts Aegon to bite his lip to stifle the moan that wants to break free from his lungs. He can´t give himself away like this. He would only scare you and that is the last thing he wants to do. You simply look so good, how could anyone help themselves. You can be lucky he is there to watch over you.

A quiet moan comes from you as he continues his ministrations. The touch barely light enough to tease, but that heavenly sound pushes him further.

His hand slips underneath the waistband, past your lace panties and finds your already wet heat.

“Fuck.” He whispers, pushing two of his thick fingers inside of your entrance. He wants to take things so much further, but if he wants you to stay asleep he has to be careful. He pumps the two digits in and out of you at a slow pace. Feeling you grow even wetter as you squirm, quiet moans the only tell for the pleasurable feeling you are experiencing. He speeds up the movement of his fingers slightly, until he can´t take the lewd noises coming from your core anymore. He just has to taste you or he was sure he would die right then and there.

He shifts his position on the mattress, turning you onto your back, pausing when you stir again, moving to lay between your legs. Your pants are discarded and carelessly thrown to the side, before he dives in for the first taste of your heavenly center. He regrets not taking the time to appreciate your body the way it deserves, but he needs you so much there is no time for that now. His tongue licks a stripe up the length of your cunt, moaning at the sweet taste. And when he hears your own quiet moan and sees how you bring your hips closer to his face he is unstoppable. His tongue delves into you, fucking you with it and recklessly. Reaping every single one of your little noises and movements. He is so far gone that he doesn´t even realize, that with every new stir you start to wake up a little more.

At first your mind is still foggy with sleep and the pleasurable feeling his lips and tongue bring you. Your hand instinctively treads itself into his hair. But when you fully come to You scramble backwards until your back hits the headboard. His mouth chasing after you before he realizes what has happened and looks up at you.

“Aegon?! What are you doing here?” You gasp.

“Shh, it´s okay. Just let me worship you in the way you deserve.” Aegon slides his hand up your calf in a feather light touch.

“How did you get in here?” You ask, becoming more panicked.

“The door. I told you, you need to be more careful. You are lucky I came here to protect you.” His voice is soothing and so deep. And so you relax a little, leaning back as he resumes his previous activities.

But somehow something just feels wrong. Like a feeling in your gut. This is so unlike anything he has shown you of himself. Thinking about it he hadn´t shown you all that much in the first place. And that feeling just won´t let itself be shaken off so you shove his head away once more.

“Can we please just go back to sleep? I don´t really feel entirely in the mood right now.”

“Oh doll, that sounded much different a while ago. I didn´t even touch you all that much, yet you were still soaking those lace panties for me.” He climbs on top of you, rasping the words into your ear. “And the position I found you laying in… You´re such a fucking tease. It´s like you were begging for it.”

A sickening cold fear spreads in your system. A yelp leaving your mouth as he pulls you down by the ankle so your core is pressed to his. You are too in shock to return his kiss when he forcefully presses his mouth to yours. This is not the Aegon you know, but something tells you that this is the real Aegon. Coming back from the shocked state, you try to push him away. Hands pressed to his chest and legs eagerly searching for a way out, but he is too strong.

“I don´t want this, Aegon. Please stop.” You whimper into his shoulder as he mouths at your neck. Nibbling at all the most sensitive spots. Hating yourself for the growing even wetter as he rubs his length against your core. You don´t even know how or when he rid himself of his own pants. All you know is, that he now is pulling on your night shirt. Eager to get it off while simultaneously pinning your wrists down over your head so you would stop pushing him away.

As it turns out it is harder to do than imagined and so another yelp falls from your lips as he rips the fabric off your body. Your chest moving with fast and harsh breaths.

“Shh, everything´s alright. I´m here to take care of you.” He silences you with another unrequited, bruising kiss.

You are helpless against him, squirming and writhing underneath his much larger frame. This whole situation is so absurd and to add to all of it, when you bite his lower lip in a desperate attempt of self defense and getting the upper hand, he simply laughs. Tears start to prick in your eyes as the sound reaches your ears. As much as you want to blink them away they free themselves. Running down your burning cheeks accompanied by a sob.

“Aww, don´t cry doll. I´m going to make you feel so good. Just relax and let it wash over you.” His free hand wanders down to roughly caress one of your breasts. Rolling and tweaking the nipple between his fingers until the bundle of nerves stands hard at attention and your back arches off the bed. Which he takes as the sign to go ahead in what he is doing. Bringing his mouth down to the other breast, sucking and kissing on it until that nipple looks much the same like the other.

With one swift motion Aegon pushes inside of you, his cock stretching you out like no one had before. It is nothing like your first time together. He immediately starts to thrust inside of you at a fast pace.

"Aegon... please... st-op." You cry out to him to no avail.

Rutting into you at an almost breakneck pace. His head bows down and you feel puffs of hot breath hit the skin where your neck and shoulder meet. The feeling is utterly upsetting and you want to throw up at the same time you lost all the strength in your body. It´s all futile.

“I already told you I´m not gonna stop. You know deep down that you enjoy this. So why don´t you make this easier for yourself and stop fighting it.” His teeth sink into your tender skin harshly.

"Aahhh! Fuck, that hurts! Why are you doing this?" You question him.

"Because you deserve to be worshipped. You are a goddess walking amongst men." He nibbles on your ear. Much softer than the bite before, but that doesn't make anything better.

His hips continue to piston into yours. The sound of wet skin slapping against skin filling the otherwise quiet apartment alongside with your bitter cries. The moon outside is the only source of light illuminating his features.

You try to turn your head away from him, but he forces it back by your chin. So instead you close your eyes. You can´t stand to look at him anymore. His face that looked so sweet and innocent to you before is now distorted into a grimace of sick pleasure. Eyes closely watching your every reaction and a sheen of sweat covering his skin, sticking the front locks of his silver blond hair to his forehead.

With a few more thrusts he comes inside of you and for a short moment you have the hope that this is it. Aegon relaxes against you, but as your cries become weaker you notice how he only seems to get harder inside your warmth.

“Can you please let me go now?” You try again with a quiet, shaky voice.

“Oh, you think I am done with you yet? No no no. We are done when you come around my cock and accept me for who I am. What you made me.” His tone is nothing short of condescending and he tuts at you as your crying grows hysterical again.

You guess the gesture is supposed to soothe you, but it has the exact opposite effect.

You cry yourself into a near state of incoherency as he pushes your knees up against your chest forcefully, giving him a whole new angle inside of you. The way the head of his cock bullies your sweet spot is the final straw. It hurts. Despite it feeling so wrong it feels so good. You hate yourself even more as inadvertent pleasure runs through you like electricity. Making your toes curl and your eyes roll back. You scream louder with every thrust of his until you are near voiceless. You try to remind yourself that your body reacting to it doesn´t make it any more right and it doesn´t mean that you secretly enjoy it. But it´s so hard.

“You like it deep, don´t you?” Aegon´s voice in your ear painfully pulls you back into reality.

“Please.” You beg one last time, but the plea, just like all the others, falls onto deaf ears.

Your body gives up any last fight it has left. Quietly sobbing when your walls flutter around him and your hips start to shake. A wave of pleasure, or maybe just disguised shame, washes over you, provoking Aegon´s second orgasm.

“You are mine. You will never leave me. No one can love you like I do.” His voice sounds so soft. So genuine.

You almost want to believe him, but that would require a level of coherency you currently do not possess.

As you lay there with your whole body shaking, trying to come down from this experience and waiting for what he would do next, you ask yourself where things had gone wrong. What did you do to provoke this? To deserve this? Yet no matter how hard you pray to the seven for a sign or anything at all really, you don´t get an answer.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #dark!aegon targaryen x reader #modern hotd au #modern hotd #modern house of the dragon au #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fic #house of the dragon fic #hotd x reader

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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 2 years

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Scooby-Doo but make it a ghost story.

(Just hear me out, trust me, I swear it’ll make sense-)

3k words

A man shows up with a paper with an empty signature line, asking you to sell whatever you have left and leave the premises.

He’s not the first to try and tell you to get off your own land, and you doubt he will be the last, but you’ve dealt with his kind before--trim, pristine suits and loud voices speaking big words and legal jargon that still makes your head spin even after the piles of research you’ve done to keep this from happening--so despite his confident posture and degrading sneer, you’re not frightened by him.

You turn him away like the others, and he spits and curses and stomps his feet, giving a tantrum worthy of the most red-cheeked toddlers you’ve seen in your store, piling on threats of how you’ll regret it before storming off. While it is always a bit worrying to have these types pay you a visit, you know the land is yours until you can’t sustain it any longer; and although your business is small, it will take a long while before that will happen.

At least until the word haunted starts spreading through the halls.

You first hear it when you’re re-stocking some shelves near the front. The couple is scurrying out in agitated whispers about ghosts and ghouls and generally unpleasant things accompanied by a stream of vulgar language directed at whoever owned this establishment.

It’s odd, but you don’t think much of it outside of a curious glance at the young cashier who started work here a few weeks ago. He does nothing but shrug to express that his confusion aligns with your own, and you both brush it aside without much thought.

Two days later, he hands in his resignation, pale and a little shaky, nearly running out of the shop the moment he gets the chance.

You find out he was on the closing shift last night, and wouldn’t speak to anyone the next morning until he could get out of there. One of the employees says she heard him feverishly mutter something about ghosts.

It’s worrisome but you get back to work as best you can, trying not to let it bother you.

The next employee who leaves is much louder about it.

You hear it again: GHOSTS. HAUNTED.

Cursed.

You take in a shaky breath, then a couple more to collect yourself before turning to reassure your remaining employees. There’s not many of them. Most of them are kids from homes nearby, just working the hours they could to save for college or to move away. Not all of them are frightened, and they brush aside the others, but even so, you close the shop an hour earlier now so that no one has to stay after dark.

As the winter season comes, that becomes earlier and earlier until everyone is out by four o’clock.

Still, it’s no use. Word spreads like wildfire in small towns, gossiping to tourists too. Some ghost hunters drop by to try their luck but they’re always out by morning or gone completely to goodness knows where. You simply hope they left in a panic and not something else.

You try the police and they find nothing. You hire a detective who runs away yelling about how they don’t deal with ghosts, and all that money is down the drain. You watch as the price of your small business drops and drops until you’re eating strictly canned foods, ramen and the cheapest cereal you can find to try and scavenge for any spare penny you can. Your neighbour tells you again and again that it isn’t worth it and you should just sell. Any employees that remained left quickly, off to find a job that could pay them better than you could until it was just you and your baby cousin left at the till. She’s barely old enough to be working, and there are jobs that pay better out there, but she stubbornly keeps restocking the shelves and ringing up the till whenever stragglers or loud curious teens find their way into the shop. She refuses to leave you.

You try to deal with the problem yourself. You really do. After your cousin goes home for the night you stay, hidden behind boxes with an old bat and wait for whatever it was that was harassing your staff, but when you see it you’re paralyzed. It floats past, eerie, silent, a horrible gaping face, unearthly glow about it, and no sound of footsteps or creaking wires to betray it as a fake. You try to tell yourself it must be fake. It must be. You hide clutching the bat like your life depends on it and shaking like a leaf in the freezing autumn wind gusts. The glow from the thing is greenish as it floats past the boxes you’re hidden behind. Your heart pounds in your ears and goosebumps rise on your arms as it pauses over the boxes. You think for a moment this might be where you die and then it’s floating on before vanishing through a wall.

You run from the shop as fast as you can all the way home and lock every door and window. You stay up all night pressed against the wall, halfway under your covers, sitting up, bat still clenched in your hands. You’re only able to get some sleep when the sun rises a bit.

You follow the path that the ghastly thing took during the opening hours of the shop, finding no trace of it ever existing. Your hands still hurt from how tightly you had clenched the bat all night.

It scared you. Enough to close the doors even earlier.

It was near impossible to keep things running when you could only safely keep the shop open barely half the day. You knew the next time a man with a paper came to the door you wouldn’t be in a position to refuse.

It’s around that time you hear about a group that deals exclusively with your type of problem. Ghosts, goblins, ghouls, witches, warlocks, werewolves, demons; helping people who no one else would help.

You’re desperate. So you grab what remains of your savings and get in your rickety car that you’re honestly surprised still works at this point and go to find them.

They’ve set up shop in a small building on the corner of a street in a town you’ve never heard of.

Mystery Inc. is painted across an old van parked out front and the sign on the door. It’s colourful, almost silly. It doesn't fill you with much confidence but you’re desperate, and the bright colours do at least make you smile.

A young man shakes your hand when you enter the door, polite, not commenting on your haggard appearance--nonstop driving and energy drinks for an amount of time you didn’t really want to think about probably did a number on the circles under your eyes. You’re pretty sure your hands were shaking from the caffeine. He warmly welcomes you in and introduces himself as Fred.

A young red-headed girl in heels-- fifteen? Sixteen perhaps?-- takes your hand and helps you sit down in a seat near a desk and before you know it there’s a blanket over your shoulders and a warm cup of some non-caffeinated tea in your hands. At this point it tastes like nothing more than hot water but it does wonders to stop your hands from shaking.

The dog startles you; a massive Great Dane, a little dopey looking with a brightly coloured collar. It's sitting at a table in the corner with a very scrawny looking teen, peach fuzz on his chin and a shirt that must be a few sizes too big judging by the way that it hangs off his wiry frame. There’s a large array of foods on the table in front of them, but they’ve paused their snacking to wave at you. Both the teen and the dog. You wave back and that seems to satisfy them enough for them to tuck back into their meal eating more like what you’ve seen black holes in movies consume things like. It’s 3am. You try not to stare.

The sound of a chair sliding draws your attention and a different freckled young lady sits down in front of you and adjusts the thickest glasses you’ve ever seen.

They’re children, you realize after a moment. Teenagers. Hardly older than your cousin. Their clothing seems a little out of style, but pristine considering they looked like something your grandparents would wear. Clothes were nicer back than anyways, and you have your fair share of hand-me-downs so you don’t comment or think about it much.

They ask you what brought you here and you do your best to share. It feels like mad ramblings but under their watchful eyes and attentive ears you find yourself relaxing at least a bit. It’s a strange situation and you apologize numerous times, how odd it is to be going to children half your age for help, but they do little more than brush the apology aside with a wave of their hands and a reassuring pat to your shoulder.

“Well…” says Fred, stroking his chin thoughtfully, “it’s not much to go off of, but we’ll see what we can do.”

They drive you home and you sleep in the back of the van with the massive dog and the scrawny teen. They wake you up only to ask for directions and you give them as best you can in your sleep deprived state.

Somehow they reach the shop by morning, which feels unreal when it took you three days to get to their office, but you count your blessings rather than question them and invite the group inside, figuring you must have just been more lost than you realized on the way there.

The dog and the scrawny teen (Shaggy, you think they call him, and you’re inclined to agree) are always searching for some kind of food. They raid your shop’s back fridge and you don’t bother to stop them since there’s not much in there anyways, and they seem half-starved despite the large meal you saw them consume back at their headquarters. They find more than you thought you had in there and carry it all out in an impressive stack that they consume in mere seconds. You don’t have much to pay them for the job they’re doing, so you don’t bother stopping them from raiding the snack shelves at the front counter either.

You show Fred and the girls the back room where things happen. You introduce them to your cousin who they politely ask some questions too. It’s clear they’ve done this before. Any inquiries are straight to the point, they share with you what they find. You get the strangest feeling they’ve been doing this for decades with how confidently they walk around a supposedly haunted shop.

Velma, the freckled one with glasses, throws around some large words you don’t understand with some pale green dust on the end of her finger. Their first clue, which Fred seems excited about. He suggests they head back to the van to take a drive around town for further investigation while she runs tests on the substance found in the shop.

Shaggy makes a comment about being hungry and Scooby nods his head. The ground is littered with snack wrappers and you make a note to clean those up.

Daphne, the one who patted your hand and gave you tea looks a little lost, simply floating around after the others and nodding along with the clues they find until Fred mentions heading out, then she quickly takes charge directing them out to the van. They bid you a goodnight, telling you to get some more sleep and they’ll handle the rest.

You worry about them but your cousin agrees and shoos you home.

The next morning comes after a restless sleep and they’re still there. You aren’t sure whether you’re relieved or worried over that fact. They stayed in the shop overnight, they report. Shaggy and Scooby are quaking but the others look unphased.

“Terrifying! Big ugly green face, a g-g-g-GHOST!”

Scooby gives a mournful ruff in agreement in something that sounds almost startlingly close to real words.

Velma sighs. “Shaggy, Scooby, there’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Oh yeah? How’d you explain tall, floaty and creepy, huh?”

“Wires most likely. Glow in the dark paint. A costume.”

Shaggy and Scooby shake their heads in unison.

You’re just glad they’re alright.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell them. It breaks your heart but the little old shop isn’t worth the lives of four teenages and their large puppy.

“It’s our job,” Fred tells you with a cool, comforting hand on your shoulder. “Trust us. I have a plan. And, after our investigation around town, I get the feeling we might already know who this ghost of yours is.”

It seems impossible but you and your baby cousin do your best to help them set up a rather elaborate trap. It’s confusing to you, but the others seem fairly confident in Fred’s direction.

They ussher you out for your own safety, ignoring your protests of “what about yours?” and tell you to wait until they call you back.

You do. Nervously pacing your house. Your baby cousin’s asleep at the table. It’s been a long few days so you’re not surprised, even if she made a valiant effort to stay up with you, it was only a matter of time before it caught up to her. You throw a blanket over her but decide against moving her to the bed, she’s a light sleeper and you don’t want to wake her.

You don’t chew your nails often, but they’re bitten down to the skin by the time your phone rings. It makes you jump and you answer it in a mad scramble, nearly dropping your phone in the process.

There’s a lot of white noise and garbled static that makes you wonder if it was a butt dial until you recognize snatches of Fred’s voice speaking out from the mess telling you it was safe to come out now.

You have just enough thought to shake your cousin awake so she isn’t left behind at your place, and the two of you race over to the shop together. Your heart’s pounding and worry runs rampant. It was impossible to tell Fred’s tone over the garbled static, but you pray that nothing went wrong and that they are alright.

You arrive to the ghost that has been terrorizing your shop, tied up on the ground with the four teens and Scooby standing over it. It’s strange to see something that phased through a wall restrained by ropes and you can’t help but keep your distance, still unsettled, even in the daylight. Its wide gaping jaw and empty eyes still looked too-real.

But the group stood by it like it was nothing and the police arrived a few moments later, having been called by the teens shortly after they’d contacted you.

It was a costume. Fake. As they said. The mask was tugged off and you recognized it as your neighbour, the one who had been so insistent you sell.

The group takes turns explaining how they came to the conclusion, what led to the capture, the motivation behind it. It feels practiced and comfortable for them as they spin the story and explanation. You hardly hear a word, just relieved that it was over.

An officer pulls you aside to get your testimony and you want more than anything for them to be gone. They ask you about your involvement, and you inform them of the bare minimum, directing them to the teens, who seem to know much more than you do at this point, but when you go to point them out you find them missing. Van and all. Somehow having already pulled out of the driveway and driven away without anyone noticing.

You give the name Mystery Inc. and show the traps if only to get them out faster and eventually they leave after relentless grilling. You would have preferred to keep them out of this entirely but it was necessary to get rid of your “ghost”. The one that turned you away when you asked for help doesn’t seem at all remorseful and it rubs you the wrong way so you don’t bother to bid any of them goodbye.

You sleep for a few days before you get back in your car and drive to Mystery Inc.’s office. You never did agree on a price but you have an envelope with some cash inside of it and more than anything you want to thank them for what they did for you. Your cousin is in the passenger's seat next to you. It takes another three days to find the office again, but eventually you do.

You don’t recognize it at first; it was impossible too. The colourful sign declaring it the home of Mystery Inc. hung sideways, barely hanging on to the front of the building; the colours washed out and so weathered you couldn’t make out the text on it anymore.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” your cousin asks. She’s clutching the envelope in her hands.

You step out of the car feeling like you’ve pulled up into another world. The windows are smashed, the front steps are falling apart, the building’s even leaning, the door at an odd angle on its hinges; the kind of wear and tear that could only come from years of erosion.

You shoulder your way in through the front door, kicking up dust when you finally get it to move. It swings open violently, screeching on rusted hinges.

The desk is where you remember it, but it’s coated in dust.

It’s completely abandoned.

No one had set foot inside for years by the looks of it. Except…

You feel a chill run down your spine as your eyes fall on a single set of footprints that match your own shoes, tracking back to a chair where an old moth-eaten blanket looked like it hadn’t moved in ages and a cracked cup that still has some liquid in it.

Your cousin calls to you and you glance back at her.

She seems unsettled and you can’t imagine the expression on your own face right now.

Ghosts aren’t real, you remember Velma saying, and the hair on the back of your neck stands up.

You leave the envelope on the desk and drive home in silence. You drop your cousin off at home, bidding her goodnight before heading to your own house.

Neither of you say it.

You dare to look them up and find Mystery Inc. doesn’t exist. At least not anymore.

You don’t sleep much that night, the memory of Fred’s cold reassuring hand on your shoulder replaying over and over in your mind.

Shaggy and Scooby’s candy wrappers are still in the pockets of your jacket, you meant to throw those out. You wonder if they’re still hungry; If they’re ever not hungry.

The shop becomes rather popular after the incident. Prim men and woman at your door with papers aren’t a threat any longer and you turn them away with ease, a flood of customers at your back.

The police don’t contact you about it. How could they? They saw them too. They took testimonies from them themselves. You can imagine what it must have felt like to find the town Coolsville they said they had come from no longer exists and neither do they.

Your cousin moves away to go to college eventually but she still keeps in contact. She says her classmates tell her she has the best ghost stories.

“Ghosts aren’t real,” a friend of yours says.

One of the wrappers is still in your pocket, even years later.

“Sure,” you say. And try not to think about it.

When they need help you give them the name Mystery Inc.

A few days later they’re less keen to tell you ghosts aren’t real.

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punemy-spotted · 10 months

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Sixteen Tons - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Muscle and Blood

Pairing: Miner!Curtis Everett x Witch!Reader

Warnings: THIS IS A HORROR FIC, Discussion of death, graphic depiction of someone bleeding out, 1890s coal mining town aesthetic in the modern day, strong pro-union opinions, Pentecostal Christianity, Appalachian Gothic Horror, Cosmic Horror, See future chapter warnings for additional tags, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Chapter Summary: The world melts away, rots into dirt and decay, and as a garden grows untended, you find your gifts crowding out the rest of your life.

We all know that the only light in the deep dark is a paycheck. So hush. Count your blessings, boy. Roof over your head, food on the table, diesel and grease, work boots on the porch, crippled back, crumbling joints, and silence. Company and even union, tuck you in, shut you up, and leave you to rot. And God damn it, you’d better be grateful. - Old Gods of Appalachia Episode 3: The Covenant

Notes: This fic also serves as a sort of direct sequel to Glory, Amen, in that the reader is technically the daughter of Pastor and Ma Rogers, but uses a pseudonym outside of the home she grew up in. The song referenced in this chapter is No Glory, by The Eagle Rock Gospel Singers. They're wonderful, so check them out!

At the time of publishing this chapter, the Family Sleepover, Down in the Valley is still ongoing! Please come by and check it out as we celebrate spooky season all year ‘round!

Also, in this house we support Unions.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

‘Course, everything dies, eventually. Much as you loathed sittin’ through your daddy’s sermons, you knew the truth in ‘em — death is a prize every livin’ being, regardless of sapience or the desire to be, ought to aspire for.

Death is the gift of all gifts, your daddy would proclaim from his bone-and-antler pulpit, the final gesture of our loving Lord and Savior — an’ of course, you, your sisters, your momma, your daddy and a few others your daddy claimed were kinfolk on his side were just… all the guides meant to introduce all manner of worldly beings too blind t’understand just how precious that kind of oblivion was to the glory of that final, permanent end.

Still.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Curtis Everett is going to die in your kitchen, his own pickaxe embedded in his chest, the final desperate pumps of his pierced heart pouring blood all over that pretty linoleum you didn’t actually like keepin’ in your kitchen an’ probably would tear up after you came to terms with never feelin’ like you could scrub away the remnants of him.

You watch it play out before you like you’ve done plenty of times before, the course of Curtis Everett’s life written in scars yet t’be earned, bruises waitin’ to bloom on flesh that has known little more than the danger an’ dread of coal dust for as long as you have known him.

You also watch him sittin’ in your clinic, for once not complainin’ as you finish cleaning and re-wrappin’ the thankfully not festering burn he’d been dutifully lettin’ you treat — per your own professional orders — for the past week-and-a-half, Looks like it’s healin’ nicely, but it’ll probably scar.

It’s not the first scar he’s earned in Snowpiercer, but it’s certainly not goin’ to be the last. You’ve been countin’ down the months — and injuries — to that particular worry for a while. The ones you can help him avoid — the ones he listens to you about — you warn against, and the ones he can’t escape, you patch up. The same as you would anyone in Snowpiercer, bein’ the company’s own doctor as you are.

Your momma’d scold you up, down an’ sideways if she knew what you were doin’, interferin’ with the predestined path of men as you watched ‘em struggle, suffer, an’ eventually succumb. But your momma wasn’t here to know, an’ ever if she was, your momma’d never be able to understand just what sorta poison of a gift it was she’d saddled you with.

Death is a Rogers daughter’s birthright, even if they themselves were more often than not denied the majesty of its truest gift. You were not born into this life to die, but to be a guardian of it, to guide the walkin’ dead makin’ their way beyond the borders of that ol’Holler you’d been born in through the trials of judgment an’ that precious, ultimate verdict.

You were not, your momma woulda reminded, voice sharp as the trowel she always kept at her side, garden bloomin’ by her stern hand, meant to shield ‘em from the pains of life — an’ the lessons to be gleaned from ‘em!

Anythin’ you want me to do with it? Curtis Everett’s question breaks you out of your bitterness, reminds you of the more pressin’ responsibilities you chose. You turn to watch him, lookin’ at him as if you might just need a moment to remember the exact instructions you ought to give for his wound care.

Except that’s not what you give, is it?

‘Stead, you look over Curtis Everett’s work-weary expression, the quest dread in his eyes at the prospect of needin’ to manage yet one more thing, one more purchase at the Company Store, one more burden to bear, Just come by every evenin’. I’ll keep the coal dust outta them wrappin’s for you.

You know full well you’ll need to work late t’take care of it — an’ t’clean the coal dust outta your clinic — but it’s better you than him.

Least, that’s what you tell yourself, as Curtis Everett’s shoulder relax, relief floodin’ those work-weathered features you’ve almost started memorizing by this time, makin’ the sleep you will almost certainly lose tomorrow and the remainder of this week worth it.

It must always be worth it.

By the time you leave your clinic, barrin’ the doors for the night, even the moon’s started its settin’, leaving the town in near-pitch darkness. You might’ve — if you were young an’ naïve enough — equated the darkness around you to a mineshaft, if mineshafts still had the privilege of fresh air to reward you for breathin’.

Not on Company Time.

Wiser folk than you might’ve considered stayin’ indoors ‘til sunup. Maybe even considered the merits of puttin’ a cot in your office to avoid havin’ to brave the deep woods durin’ the Witchin’ Hour, everyone more than aware of what sorta shadows lurked beyond the borders of a sad little minin’ town — an’ what sorta shadows would encroach upon those borders the moment they got the chance.

You… ain’t got much time t’think about that now though, not when you catch sight of the figure lurkin’ by the road, the only path there is t’ween your two worlds — the Clinic and the House. Everett?

There he is, hands jammed into the pockets of his overcoat, lurkin’ by the lone streetlamp Pierce an’ Rumlow’d finally seen fit to install in this part of town, after you’d spent about four years complainin’. Too late to be walkin’ back alone, Doctor, he tells you, almost sheepishly, expression invisible in the darkness — and yet you know exactly how his lips have curved into a half-smile you might’ve been quick to return had you seen it in the daytime, Figured I’d walk you back up as thanks for stayin’ late for me.

You can’t help yourself, really — you smile at him right back, the corners of your mouth tickin’ up despite the cruelty playin’ out before your eyes, at least until you remember yourself an’ blink away the vision, If I kept the same hours as you pit boys, nobody’d be gettin’ patched up. Now you best not be tellin’ me you were lurkin’ out here in the pitch dark an’ cold waitin’ for me t’finish my notes and close up, Curtis Everett.

Maybe you ought not have put words in his mouth — or taken ‘em out, as the case may be — as he shrugs at you and flashes you a grin you cannot see but are certain of, Then I won’t, Doctor.

An’ with that, he starts off back down the road, towards the lights still spillin’ from the windows of your boarding house, hummin’ some ol’ work song you only halfway knew the words too. An’ you watch him go on for longer than you should, takin’ in the sight of his silhouette slowly becomin’ part of the gloom.

You catch up soon enough, keepin’ up with his long, languid strides as if by some miracle, your own steps quick and harried. There are moments you wonder how a man like Curtis Everett — always managin’ to tower over everyone in the room, includin’ Superintendent Wilford an’ that lady Minister Mason he’d installed over at the Tabernacle of the Iron Gospel — ever really managed to fit in the mines this whole sad sack of a town was built around.

Shouldn’t have stayed out waitin’ for me, you scold with a good-natured ribbin’, not really meaning to chastise… but worry instead, You’ll’ve missed dinner call, Everett.

So’ve you, Doctor, he counters, the burr of laughter in his voice makin’ you roll your eyes an’ put on a scowl you barely mean — mostly cuz you hate feelin’ so outwitted, but no one dare make you admit it.

I’m allowed to be late, I own the place, you argue right back, a rebuttal that earns you another low chuckle, a sound you’re only used to hearin’ from Curtis on rare occasion — earnin’ you a burn of pride in your chest at hearing it now.

You really ought not do this, you know. But here you are, comfortable in the cold silence of the deep night, hands jammed into your coat pockets, walkin’ alongside Curtis Everett with all the calm an’ ease of dear friends.

Glancing at him. Looking without lookin’, pretendin’ you don’t know what you’ll see when you—

You know better, is the bottom line. You know you ought to know better — hell, you know your momma taught you better.

In the corner of your vision, Curtis Everett bleeds his last on your linoleum floor.

In front of you? Curtis Everett hums a work song an’ walks with you through the gloom, right up to the gold-light gleam of your doorstep an’ into your kitchen, the ghosts of the future fadin’ into an approaching dawn.

An’ maybe that’s enough.

Company House — its true name barely in use by you or your boarders, halfway for your own protection an’ halfways cuz it’s just easier — is a handsome-enough structure, nothin’ like that ramblin’ greenhouse you’d sprouted in, a bloom in your momma’s garden.

No. Company House — name lost an’ purpose found — on the other hand, is yours. All yours.

A loomin’ thing, the house cuts through the nighttime gloom like a lighthouse, every window on its main story burstin’ with light. Built on a hill overlookin’ the town proper, it served as home an’ hearth for any miner ineligible for the pretty pre-built housin’ developments south of the mine, where Pierce & Rumlow… rewarded those willin’ to produce more bodies to throw into that gapin’ wound the combine’d carved into the mountainside with such luxuries as driveways, fences, mortgages, an’ obligations.

It was just the way you liked it. Home for the lonely an’ the friendless — least that’s how it sounded in town, if someone dared ask Minister Mason about the mountain fortress an’ the ‘Godless Heathens’ inhabitin’ it. The Iron Gospel she preached ran on the blood an’ bones of its congregation, on family an’ obligation, on ties that bind whole generations to the mine.

A Gospel that had no room for the wholly different kinda worship that comes from strangers sittin’ round a table breakin’ bread an’ formin’ bonds. On brotherhood an’ union, on wantin’ somethin’ better that the paltry concessions afforded by minders with plenty of money t’provide more. You knew it then from your daddy’s own congregation an’ those Sunday suppers your momma arranged each week. You know it now from the warm surety of Curtis Everett’s hand on your arm, keepin’ you from losin’ your footing on that trick step you ain’t had time to fix — I can get Ed to take care of that tomorrow — and the sound of hurried conversation bubbling outta your front parlor, house still buzzin’ with life.

Shit, Curtis’s swearing nearly startles you outta your skin all over again as you both stand on the front porch, stompin’ the day’s coal dust off your shoes, forgot there was meeting tonight. Foreman’s gonna have words for me, no doubt.

You’re allowed t’be late, for walkin’ me home, you tell him, letting the light of the house illuminate your smile as you open the front door.

Meeting is a cute word for it — s’the way things go, get the lonely and the friendless to start airin’ grievances an’ suddenly they ain’t so lonely nor so friendless anymore. A man with a wife and children might think twice about givin’ the company a reason to tear away the roof over his family’s head, divin’ into his future tomb day after day, respirator an’ headlamp in hand, but a man with nothin’ to lose is a man with a bone to pick with the only industry in town capable of puttin’ food in his belly on a daily basis — so long as he survived to see his next meal. Unions, you got used to hearin’ back in your own holler, are the Lord’s way of puttin’ His protection back into a man’s own hands.

Too bad them folks at P&R’d forgotten that sorta conventional wisdom.

Tonight’s union meeting is just about comin’ to a close when you and Curtis walk in, a cracked joke derailing whatever Gilliam’s supposed agenda had left to cover. You’re late, the old man half-scolds, room hushed by his disappointment as all eyes turn to you and the union leader you know you’re already being accused of distracting.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Ignoring the raised voices that begin in your wake — and unwilling to get between two men in the middle of a union dispute — you make yourself proper scarce, disappearing into the kitchen. Between running the clinic and the house, you’re run halfway ragged, but you do cheer quietly upon seeing two foil-covered plates sitting in the fridge — Yona keeps true to her eternal word, making sure nobody goes hungry if she’s got the time and the ingredients.

The sound of someone entering the kitchen while you’re putting plates in the warmer don’t surprise you much — someone was bound to follow you into this place eventually — but you don’t turn around, not immediately.

Not ‘til Curtis Everett clears his throat, Thought I smelled food.

You sure you ain’t part bloodhound, smellin’ it all the way out there?

There. Another burr of laughter, low in his throat, and another burn of pride.

They calm down out there? You wave your hand toward the general direction of the parlor, noting the distinct lack of raised voices now that the warmer’s stopped beepin’ at you.

It’s my fault — should’ve told ‘em I’d be late.

They worried?

He’s quiet at that, the silence sittin’ heavy on both your shoulders while you move around the kitchen some more, collectin’ utensils and glancin’ back at him occasionally, waiting.

Finally — Gilliam’s steppin’ down. Nobody wants the job — company’s made sure of that.

You set the platter in front of him, to quiet thanks, He still want you to take over?

He don’t need to answer. You see it again, written all over his face — someone’s gotta do it.

The rest of the meal is… quiet. Heavy. Uncomfortable. A silence neither of you are willin’ to break, coupled with glances neither of you are willin’ to admit to, brows furrowed and thoughts elsewhere. Barely tasting the food, just glad to have something to busy your mouths with, ‘stead of trying to hold a conversation neither party wants t’have or worse — trying to change the fuckin’ subject, with both your minds trapped on the things you’d rather not think about.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Everything dies, eventually. You rationalize it between bites, teeth on tongue to keep the scream of it all held in your chest. Everything dies, including Curtis Everett. Including Gilliam — whose death you’ve pre-emptively forgiven certain parties for. Including Yona — whose hands will evidence endless adventures before she lays down for that final rest, satisfied an’ satisfying. Everything dies. Includin’ Curtis Everett.

Curtis Everett, who will take on the work. Who, in three weeks’ time, will be back in your clinic, bullet in his shoulder an’ strike unbroken. Company infuriated.

One injury closer.

You open your mouth, about to do the unthinkable, disappointment and poisoned bloom — everythin’ dies, but Curtis Everett deserves to choose — when the music finally registers with you both.

Music. And singing. And laughter.

The kitchen door slams open hard enough to rattle the plates in the cupboard, Yona’s wild presence in the doorway, Come on!

No explanation. No answers. You’ll have t’see it to know it.

Curtis glances back at you, brow raised an’ hackles too. Better make sure they’re behavin’ out there, is all you give in response to it, on your feet in a flash, empty dishes in hand.

He lingers, eyes on you. Imposes his will with his presence, You need help with the dishes?

Let him stay.

You don’t.

S’two plates an’ a couple mugs. I’ll be fine — you go, keep an eye on ‘em for me.

He’s so fast — behind you in a flash. How does a man so tall an’ so full of presence move so fast?

Got no time for answering that, not when his hand’s on your shoulder and you’re glancin’ back at him without thinkin’, waiting. Come out there when you’re done or Yona’ll never let either of us hear the end of it.

An’ neither will I, is what he doesn’t say. Not aloud, at least, stepping back only when you nod.

It don’t stop you from hearin’ it though, playin’ on loop in your mind all the way through dishes, through cleanin’ up your kitchen, through makin’ good on your word an’ takin’ that cautious walk to your parlor, where the sound of stompin’ boots joins in with the chorus of voices pouring outta your record player, blessedly drownin’ out all manner of conscious thought.

Take me down to that red dirt road Where all them white tails, white tails roam

The parlor is abuzz with life, a hive of movement as you take in rearranged furniture an’ the slowly climbin’ beat of stomping boots coupled with clapping hands, ring of bodies circlin’ the room, all watching Tanya — up from the General Store like always, on behalf of the widows this town left behind — in her valiant attempt to tutor Edgar in the complexities an’ social conventions of a good ol’ fashioned barn dance.

I don’t belong in a big coal town Can’t hear my Lord in all that sound

You almost manage t’become part of that ring of onlookers, slippin’ past the disapproval ruining Gilliam’s face, but turns out no one escapes Curtis Everet, work-hardened fingers winding around your wrist an’ pulling you back, Thought I was gonna have t’come rescue you from the sink, and now there’s no getting away, nor are you feelin’ quite so keen on it anymore.

Not when he looks at you like that.

Wanna show ‘em how it’s done, Doctor?

You dance, Everett? Since when? And since when did Curtis Everett become capable of smiling so sweet he just might fool you into saying yes?

Hell — what gave him the right?

Well I’ve had my fill, of concrete floor Where all them highways, them highways grow

You don’t get a chance to ask too many questions of him, not when he’s pullin’ your fool self right into the center of that cleared floor, sayin’ somethin’ about secrets you barely catch before he’s turnin’ you about an’ you gotta start paying some fucking attention.

There ain’t no glory None that I see None to compare Your love for me

‘Course, you’ve danced before — your daddy might’ve been a fire an’ brimstone preacher up at that bone an’ antler pulpit but he wasn’t a fool — but barn dances an’ church revivals don’t do shit t’prepare you for the rush, for the easy pressure of Curtis Everett’s hands on you, for the peal of laughter that pours outta your throat before you get a chance to think about it the moment he spins you out an’ catches you back with entirely too much ease.

He surprises you and doesn’t at the same time, sure hands and steady feet, both of you catching on to the rhythm quickly as the rest of the room drums the beat, a cacophony of work boots strikin’ the floor in a steady pattern, You gonna answer my question properly, Everett, you accuse him and he pulls you closer, smile on your face betrayin’ any anger you might be feigning.

I’m full of surprises, Doctor.

My days are few, my time is near But I know God will take my fear

He keeps his hands respectful, holdin’ one of your high and keepin’ the other at the small of your back, but there’s nothin’ either of you can — or want to, you’re startin’ to realize — do about the closeness, about the way you can’t stop looking up at him and the stormclouds in his eyes, like you’re seeing them for the first time. Really seeing them, that is.

It’s somethin’. Hypnotic.

The chorus turns into a loop, a rising swell of voices joinin’ your thudding heartbeat, lips parting to ask another question, make another joke, feel that burr of laughter against your chest, feel hands fallin’ from the glory of God to meet a different kinda worship, feel fingers curl into his coat like a lifeline.

He holds your cheek. He draws you in.

His mouth slides over yours like an invitation, your lips parting like an acceptance, like forgetting, like surrender. The music does not slow, but you do, fallin’ into the languid ease of hungry breathlessness, like you could find answers in the sweep of a tongue against yours, in the tightening of his grip on your back, in the wall of him around you.

Your love for me Your love for me Your love for me Your love for me

#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x fem!reader #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #curtis everett imagine #chris evans #chris evans imagine #fanfiction #writing #in which tessa finally writes something #series: down here in this valley

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shearlin · 2 days

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Word count: 2977

An epilogue to 'A Piece of Heart'

First || << Previous

Every journey comes to an end. This one was no different. But there are still somethings to settle before the final farewells. Like items that were rented out that needed to be returned to their rightful owner. Like Legend was going to allow for them to give them back.

Hi :D I was fully expecting to post it in like few months. But as I was working on a different WIP I kept getting distracted writing this instead.

Enjoy :D

Nine portals of swirling white and gold framed in the arches of runes - glistering and icy blue - shone brightly in the middle of the meadow, as nine heroes of courage filled through the sparse trees.

They were allowed some time of reprieve after the final battle, some time to heal, to celebrate, to say their goodbyes.

Small mercies , Legend thought as the little whisper that guided them all here fizzled out to the soft rustling of the leaves. He took a deep breath to steady himself before turning to look around at his brothers, who were talking easily though the final final goodbyes.

This is it . The end of our journey.

He thought he would be angrier. Or more apathetic. That was usually how his journeys were ending so far. Either caught in the staticky fuzz filling his mind, while waiting restlessly for yet another unforeseen catastrophe to happen or in a simmering, directionless anger when faced with that particular kind of loneliness and longing that came with the goodbyes.

Instead he found himself… calm? Tentatively content, even if a bit wistful. It was… bizarre. He scoffed at his own anxiety and rolled his shoulders, willing himself to relax. Seriously, if his mind could enjoy the ‘sweat’ part of the bittersweetness of this moment, it would be great.

They gathered in the space between the time gates and repeated for a hundredth time today the same plans for the future they shared a million times already in those last two weeks. Maybe no Link was good with goodbyes.

[...]

They stood in silence watching the portals radiating with power, all feeling a slight pull reaching deep into their souls. They would need to go soon.

Four broke the silence first stepping towards Legend and reaching into his bag. “Well, I think this officially counts as ‘the end of all of this’ so here.” He pulled out the Rod of Seasons and held it out for the veteran, “Once again, vet, thank you for everything. I dread to think how this journey would look without you.” And somehow Legend knew he meant so much more than just saving him from the worst of the portal sickness symptoms.

He looked at the item in smithy’s hands with furrowed brows feeling his hands itch. He needs it back. He promised Din he will keep it safe and away from any ill meaning person or being, while Farore re-establishes the Secrets keeping the Oracle Islands safe. He should bag it and as soon as he returns to his house, put it in a basement layered thick with protective and masking charms for however long he needs to, until Din sends for him.

He turned away looking deep into the swirling maw of the portal closest to him. Stretching his senses and focusing on the tiny tug on his very soul he had no doubt about it. They were divine in origin. Hylia Herself sends them their way to take them home safely. What were the odds She would put them in danger the first thing when they’re truly on their own for the first time in months?

… You know what? Never mind, better not answer that .

There was no way of knowing what exactly was upsetting Four magic this badly. Were his shattering scars sensitive to dark magic? Or it was the time-space shift itself, with its unnatural stretch and bend and crush and-

“Um, Vet?”

“Keep it.”

Read the rest on Ao3!

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe fanfic #lu fanfiction #linked universe legend #lu legend #lu chain #a piece of heart #my writing

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mitochondriaandbunnies · 8 months

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This is a re-post/archiving of a twitter thread from Oct 16, 2021, edited slightly for clarity.

Know what I haven't done for a while? Waxed philosophical about Miami Vice.

I'm currently stuck in traffic bad enough that people have turned off their cars and are chilling outside, so here goes.

So we have a houseguest who actually ASKED to be subjected to Vice, and Dan immediately suggested we watch Bushido, because let's face it, he's a Castillo Guy, and the "Vice Squad's Lieutenant is a Weird Weeb" episodes are some of his favorites.

I expressed some hesitation— Bushido is an episode that is very slowly paced (purposefully) and works best when you know the characters and know what the stakes are. We watched it anyway, and it didn't really land the way it should've (although the guest appreciated the Battlestar Galactica connections).

(Traffic cleared. In line for donuts now.) I tried to explain the fact that while Vice is technically an episodic show, it's a precursor to arc based shows in the ways it handles all the characters and their *emotional* arcs— case in point, in Bushido Sonny and Rico both seem *happy.* Castillo earnestly smiles for the first time in the show, and we learn the depths to which duty and honor matter to him (and yet, how much actual RULES really do not— his own code of honor supersedes the law even if he finds ways to pay lip service to it.)

This got me thinking about how Season Two of Miami Vice telegraphs an enormous amount about the characters' eventual arcs and the decisions they'll make throughout the series; practically half of S2 is episodes about Sonny Parallels crashing and burning and how that predicts his own eventual crash. Of course, those are the OBVIOUS things the show tells us about its cast. The thing I find fascinating about S2 is that a LOT of information is broadcast through music and images rather than the script, and Vice expects you to be smart enough to pick up on this and how it will come to fruition later in the series. So much of who Sonny and Rico are isn't spoken, and a lot of the things they say and do later in the series make a lot more sense if you pay attention to music and visual cues early on.

(Gonna drive again, will finish this thought in a bit…)

This, on top of a friend on the Vice Discord asking for a listing of all the music in Vice got me thinking (aloud) about the music in S1&2, and Dan mentioned there were 14 licensed songs in Prodigal Son alone. That reminded me that a few weeks back I'd had a revelation: I had realized something about You Belong to the City, a song specifically written specifically for Vice (I.E., it's a significant piece of music thematically and lyrically), and which plays in Prodigal Son over a sequence of Sonny being distraught in NYC at night.

I wrote about Prodigal Son last year (2020) and didn't mention that sequence at all except to talk about the weird aggressive roller skater who chases Sonny on a darkened road. At the time, I frankly thought it was a song that was chosen for its sound more than its lyrics, because the lyrics don't really fit with what we're seeing on screen.

The song starts playing about halfway through the first Prodigal Son episode, right after Tubbs reunites with Valerie and leaves Sonny alone in a city he doesn't know and doesn't have any connection to. I've mentioned before that I think, as the opener for S2, Prodigal Son is very much about home and belonging. And the thing is: Sonny doesn't belong in New York. The end of the episode confirms that, at least at that point in the series, it isn't really home for Tubbs either.

Sonny's a Southern Boy, most at home on a boat. You could argue there's some kind of ominous irony in the first 1/2 of the chorus:

Cause you belong to the city You belong to the night Living in a river of darkness Beneath the neon light

But it's not objectively TRUE.

When you start picking apart the rest of the lyrics:

You can feel it Starting all over again The moon comes up And the music calls You're getting tired of Staring at the same four walls

It really starts to fall apart. Sonny isn't *tired* of anything, he didn't choose to go out wandering or to be in the city at all, Tubbs just left him alone to be with his ex-girlfriend. This isn't wanderlust, like the song implies, it's aimlessness. The second half of the chorus and the second verse make it clear that this isn't an accident.

You were born in the city Concrete under your feet It's in your moves It's in your blood You're a man of the street

This... isn't a song about Sonny Crockett.

You Belong to the City *is about Rico.*

The second verse says:

When you said goodbye You were on the run Trying to get away From the things you've done Now you're back again And you're feeling strange So much has happened But nothing has changed

These are exactly the circumstances Rico is in in this episode—he's the titular Prodigal Son, returned home after a long time to discover things are in some ways exactly as they were, and yet he doesn't fit anymore. It doesn't describe Sonny— Sonny isn't "back," he didn't leave NY "on the run." Rico did!

So, why, then, is a song about Rico playing when Sonny is wandering the city alone?

Because the idea that Rico *belongs here in NYC* is Sonny's driving fear at this point in the episode. From his perspective, he's been abandoned. He's unmoored. (And I think this is what leaves his guard so far down with Maggie. He is painfully lonely at the best of times throughout the series; alone in NY he's bereft. First port in a storm and all that.) That the episode ends with Take Me Home is a repudiation of that fear—especially considering the more-or-less-overt flirting that occurs when they meet again.

Why is any of this important? Because Vice is a series that often takes Show Don't Tell as far as you can go without becoming French New Wave: Now on TV! I argued last year that Prodigal Son intended for a savvy audience to read Sonny as bisexual; the seemingly incongruous lyrical use of You Belong to the City both confirms that and adds the extra wrinkle that *Tubbs needs to be considered in that equation.*

Which is to say: the first episode of Season Two decides to make a statement about where the season is going, and that statement is that *the relationship between Sonny and Rico is import\ant and vital and that they both have a concept of home that involves each other.* Considering where the rest of the series goes, that makes the eventual unraveling of their relationship as Sonny falls apart just about the closest thing the series has to a full overarching plot.

THEIR PARTNERSHIP IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING, FOLKS

GLENN FREY WROTE A SONG ABOUT IT

(and I'm done)

#miami vice #ricardo tubbs #sonny crockett #i wanted to save this before twitter fully implodes forever because i want to use part of it in an essay later

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i--antimony · 4 months

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2023 year in review roundup

wow!! what a fucking year!!! goodbye and good riddance! happy first day of 2024!

this year i did 37 tuesdayposts! there were 53 tuesdays so that's about 70%! some of them were on fri/sat instead as shabbosposts but i think posting on tuesday or even monday does just work better for some fucking reason. maybe because friday and saturday are days that i am most likely to do New Activities for making/playing/watching/reading??? and so on monday or tuesday i can recap the just-finished weekend. shrug! we love tuesday so it's fine.

listening listened to all of twilight mirage and a little over half of partizan! shrieking shack podcast, just king things, well there's your problem, miscellaneous music (maneskin probably a notable winner in there)

reading a lot of little articles. a little tgcf. SO much fanfic. 'every heart a doorway' (bad). 'birthday of the world' le guin (good).

playing a little disco elysium. a little minecraft. a little nier automata. a little hadesgame. a LOT of pokemon go. and i got into magic the gathering this year!

watching a lot of youtube videos. so many gd youtube videos. evangelion, history of the world part ii, cunk on earth, vox machina animated series, cowboy bebop, first season of peaky blinders, the new tgcf donghua season!

making i did very little drawing/painting/illustration beyond life drawing a few times...however i was very prolific in crafting! i also theoretically made valentines gifts. i do not remember what they were tho lol.

fiber arts: i completed a big embroidery project (fermenting dregs album art hoodie), quantum shawl, mesh market bag, case for my knew laptop, finished that blue tank top even though i hate it, fixed the lining on my yellow knitted cowl, made a little knitted headphone top cover that i will probably redo differently, headband ear warmer for my roommate's mom, and FINALLY i just barely finished the scarf for my SO before the end of 2023!

print block carving: wristwatch print, gavelbocken holiday card print

misc/writing: some songxuexiao fencing au. some harrowhark abhorsen au. neocities website!

and so much pottery! this is all of it, barring the things i already gave away as presents before this photo (two pots and a little box and the little raven guy), but wow! that's so many fuckin object!

misc what a fucking year. some bad! had to file a big car insurance claim! got really sick while abroad and that persisted for a long fucking time! mini summer breakdown! some good stuff too - passed quantum mechanics FOREVER good fucking bye, did my first successful academic conference, finally started feeling better around the end of the year! learned my lesson: it's not fuckin worth stressing yourself to death over, and also i can't just Be At Home Aimlessly for months any more. it's bad for my mental health.

reviewing 2023 resolutions and goals --> I’d love to start writing again and play more horn but we’ll see i basically didn't do any creative writing at all this year barring a few lines of fanfic ideas (the abhorsen/tlt crossover one) HOWEVER i READ a lot of fanfic to marinate in and i played a LOT more french horn!! i joined the little youth orchestra which is like, uber goofy, but it means ive been playing on a regular basis again!

--> I also wanna listen to more weird music, and invest in actually owning some files, especially for some of the lesser-known bands and through bandcamp and stuff i spent all year meaning to do this and kept pushing it off so it rolls over into next year.

--> I really want to kind of dial those [unhealthy coping mechanisms] back again, focus more on existing in Reality and more in each moment, which hopefully will also help with some of the skin picking and other anxious habits that resurfaced. maybe more yoga, maybe re-establishing a meditation process lol lmao. nah. but definitely rolling it over into 2024.

--> I would love to think more about my fashion and how I present myself too, and work on making and tailoring more of my clothing in general actually not bad! basically zero tailoring but i did a pretty good job wearing some cute outfits.

--> I’ve been pretty good about being active so I’d like to keep that up, I still can’t do a pull-up but maybe this is the year! (lol) I should also start doing some minor exercises for my shitty arthritis toes to keep those okay once again: lol lmao. health issues had me really regress in some of my gains goals. plus side is toes are doin pretty normal.

--> a lot of last year was kind of a wash regarding research so I’m really looking forward to refocusing on that and really getting things moving. oh it moved! in a good way! i'm making good progress and hopefully i will keep that momentum going!

--> finally! I want to get back to tabletop! I miss doing it so much! it fell by the wayside for me because of how busy and overwhelmed I was, especially this past fall semester, but I want to start running and playing games with my pals again a little! i should have been putting these in playing as i went oops. the tabletop group i've run was a little fallow this year due to at least half of our group, including myself, not being in Tabletop Mood but we've played a lot of res arcana and other such games instead.

i had a few other resolutions in my digital planner on my ipad that didn't go in the writeup last year: namely, practice languages more (i did practice my mandarin a little but did not really learn any hebrew or korean unfortunately) and establish a non-software component of my research (nope, not in the cards, but i'm hoping to do something else this summer to let me get better with physical data/setups), and finishing the masters degree requirements (that will be the end of this upcoming spring semester), but overall i really did hit most of my resolutions and goals! even with being ill for a while! (except the finances. i am simply not looking at them <3)

2024 resolutions and goals

definitely some rollover! i will format this to hopefully be a little easier to respond to next year:

- get back on a regular workout schedule: swimming 1x a week, weights once or twice a week. would like to try and work towards my One Pullup goal again. would also be cool to try and work towards a hand/headstand. - try and be more mindful. i'm going to continue the grief therapy but also think about meditating more, doing more yoga, and so on. - there's a gallery on main street that solicits work from local artists for bimonthy themed exhibitions and i really want to submit at least one thing to it this year! the one due by end of january is themed 'florals', and the one two months after that is 'layers', so i'd really like to submit something to one of those. - more weird art! use that big canvas i bought in literally 2022! paint!!! - finally put together that travel journal from korea & japan (and also scrapbook-ify the papers i have leftover in a pile from that) - also, maybe do current scrapbook a little different? might need a new binder at the very least. - hang up that expensive quilt i bought in august - speaking of quilt: do some hand quilting, english paper piercing! i have so much fucking fabric! - find a new apartment to move into that hopefully won't suck! - try to secure some sort of summer internship or project that will let me develop some new skillsets that i might not be getting with my current research - finish the masters degree - write...a paper? for the work i just presented??? - keep tweaking neocities and make some more pages - keep track of recipes this year as well in my making section

i might start a little spreadsheet this year to keep better track of all my stuff because i really did Not want to go through all my separate listening and reading sections and extract what i liked the most, etc. this post required me to first back up a few extra early tuesdayposts from this year to dreamwidth, and then skim all of them to accumulate the above, and that was kinda a pain. and i love an excuse to start a new spreadsheet.

we did it! happy 2024! i don't think i have anything else to add to this wrapup but if i think of something i'll tack it into the upcoming Normal Tuesdaypost tomorrow! good job good night and good luck everyone!

#tuesdayposting

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thiswasinevitableid · 7 months

Text

Kepler Kreeps (Indruck)

The winner of the "sweet more than scary" prompt poll was: You and I are both haunted house actors and tonight is a slow night

Duck’s tent is covered in blood.

Fake blood, but still. If he ever needed an excuse to buy one he hasn’t had since 1998, this is his chance.

His room is one of the darkest, with only a tipped over lantern in the corner and glo-strips to help people safely find their way through. Squinting at his watch, he sees there’s still two hours to go before they close.

“Shoulda brought a card game or something.” He whispers.

No response from the darkness across from him.

“‘Drid? Hey, mothman, don’t conk out on me now!”

There’s a sharp trill and then two, red eyes glow in the corner, “Oh dear, I was trying so hard not to fall asleep. If it’s any consolation, we will not be seeing another group for at least fifteen minutes. Not to mention the screams from Minerva’s scene would have woken me up.”

“True.” They’ve been using the alarm from his friend’s alien abduction sequence as their cue to get in position. After all, they want Kepler’s one and only haunted house to be worth the ticket.

Duck had worked with Kepler Kreeps a few times, usually when they were short volunteers and needed an extra zombie or ghost. The profits always went to the youth center, and Duck liked the chance to goof off a bit. So when he got back from Brazil in need of ways to get back into the swing of things in Kepler, volunteering for this year’s haunted house was a no-brainer.

He’d been surprised to find Indrid seated in the folding chairs along with him on the first night of planning; last he’d heard the Sylph had gone home, leaving Leo to take up the Winnebago in his place.

“I tried it for a while. But I was not speaking hyperbolically when I told you I was fond of earth. I missed it terribly and Sylvain…she has another, younger seer. So when the gate re-opened I decided to move back.”

This was how Duck also learned Indrid had been living in the apartment beneath him for three months. He’d taken Leo’s spot on the lease. Given that Duck had never seen him coming or going, he’s mostly just glad the mothman is getting out of the house.

The group settled on “Haunted Monongahela” for the theme, with each room being a different scene of horror or carnage unfolding in the national forest. As people were chatting amongst themselves about what rooms they could do, Indrid had flapped his hands, grabbed Duck’s arm, and said “I have the perfect idea.”

So now here they are, in the second weekend of the house’s run, waiting for some kids to scare. The first weekend is always busy as the haunted house die-hards and people ready for the spooky season to start flock to the gates. His guess is it won’t get really crowded again until a week or two before Halloween.

Screams from the front of the house. Now that Sylphs are an open secret, a few are more comfortable being seen in their monstrous forms. In this case, it’s Barclay’s second cousin, Franklin, who after a bout of being feral in Texarkana moved up to Kepler to work as a bartender. Franklin starts the house off in style by chasing guests up a corridor, teeth and claws bared.

Soon enough, there are horrified shouts from the room closest to them, courtesy of Minerva slicing open the chest of a dummy and sending fake blood everywhere. Duck slips back into the tent and readies himself.

Once the cluster of teenagers is over the threshold, he shakes the frame and scratches at the canvas, screaming like he’s being torn apart. This scares the group away from his side of the room and keeps them from noticing the massive, feathery shape rising up behind them.

All Indrid has to do is open his wings and shriek to send them running to the next room.

When no more groups come through, Indrid perches on the block he’s using to get further above everyone’s heads and drums on it with his claws as they wait for more victims.

“You doin’ anything fun for Halloween?” Duck crawls out and sits up in front of the tent entrance, stretching out his back.

“Most likely joining Barclay and the others at the Lodge for a double-feature. Ooh, unless-”

“Unless?”

“Unless we get many trick or treaters at the complex?” Duck can just make out the lines of his antenna twitching.

“Decent number, since we got plenty of kids in the apartments and in the neighborhood. Crap, that reminds me, I gotta get the place decorated so they know to come up the stairs and knock.”

“Do you prefer classic decorations or more of a theme?” Indrid cocks his head.

“Usually just do lights and maybe a skeleton or two. I do got this one idea I think would be fun, but it’d take up more space, maybe even get in your way.”

“Duck, you saw where I was living, do I strike you as needing everything neat and tidy?”

“Guess not. It’s kind of a cheesy idea though…”

“I insist you tell me. Please?” The disappearance and reappearance of glowing eyes suggests Indrid is trying to bat his eyelashes at him.

“Okay, okay. I was thinking I could decorate like it’s a haunted tropical island. Put aloha shirts on the skeletons, see if anyone makes a skeletal parrot-”

“Put out some Jimmy Boo-fet records perhaps?”

Duck laughs, “Exactly!”

“That sounds delightful? Would you like some help? We could even decorate both apartments in the same vein for a stronger impact. “

“Hell yeah. You wanna stop by my place after work on Monday? I was gonna run out and get stuff then.”

A flash of teeth in the darkness, “It’s a date.”

—------------------------------------------------------

Duck tosses a few more leis into the shopping cart. He’s debating whether to get a spinning projector that casts ghosts over the walls when Indrid appears, hands behind his back.

“I have the perfect costume for you.”

Duck leans on the cart, “I swear, if those are bear ears-”

Indrid gasps, mock affronted, “How could you suggest I would sink so low as a Smokey the Bear joke?”

“Smarter than the a-ver-age bear.” Duck swipes the ears from Indrids hand and places them atop silver hair, “besides, you wear ‘em better.”

His friend smiles as he removes the headband, “That’s high praise. Unrelatedly, if we go by the thrift store we will find some shirts that are perfect for the skeletons.”

Indrid’s foresight is spot on, and they also score a “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere” hat and some unopened skull lights. He’s having such a nice time that he doesn’t think twice about asking if Indrid would like to grab dinner, though he slightly regrets his offer of a ride when his friend discovers the Jimmy Buffet C.Ds in his car.

“You truly contain multitudes, Duck Newton.”

“I had a case of the Mondays!”

—------------------------------------------------------------

“This really was a way better idea than me just playing dead.” Duck says as he and Indrid get into their haunted house positions. The doors open in fifteen minutes, and the presence of an actual line suggests a busy night.

Duck adds, “But I’ll have you know I was always real good at playing dead. Played so many dead guys in emergency trainings.”

Indrid makes an amused face.

“I’m serious. Watch.” Duck lays down on his back, closes his eyes, and goes limp.

After a moment, Indrid says, “That is rather convincing.”

Duck says nothing.

“That is also very convincing.”

The lights go out, signaling that it’s time to get in final positions.

“Oh dear” Indrid sighs, “visitors are soon to be upon us and my fellow scare actor is deceased. Whatever shall I do.”

Duck manages not to laugh as Indrid crosses the floor.

A tongue mlems onto his cheek and he slaps a hand across his mouth, giggling as he opens his eyes. Indrid is bent over him, grinning.

“Dang, you figured out my trick.”

“Indeed I did.” Indrid flicks him on the nose once with his tongue, then sneaks soundlessly back into his spot.

Duck’s just glad it’s dark; he’s not ready for the mothman to see him blushing.

—---------------------------------------------------------

“I expected the Friday before Halloween to be much busier.” Indrid sits on the floor across from Duck as the haunted house stays quiet around them (except for the atmospheric music from Kirby’s room).

“They got that Zombie fun-run over in Huntington. Think a bunch of folks from town went there since it’s a one-night thing.”

Indrid shudders, “I cannot say I’d enjoy such an event. Zombies are…they feel too close to what happened with the Quell at times.”

“I get that.” Duck scoots forward an inch, “I always get freaked out by vampire movies. Something about the biting, all the teeth going into necks, ech” he shivers, “no thanks.”

“Perhaps we should be grateful Reconciliation never sent a vampiric abomination through. Not that I can remember anyway.”

Duck’s hand bumps Indrid’s in the darkness, “Ain’t sure I ever been more scared than when I saw them tryin’ to make a mimic that looked like Jane. Figured it out quick and then I was just pissed but…but there was a second before all that when I thought they’d taken her too. That even though she was far away from this whole mess, I hadn’t been able to protect her, y’know?”

Indrid nods, “I am sorry you had to see such a thing.”

“‘Drid? Can I ask you something weird?”

Another nod and a chirp of assent.

“What’s the most scared you’ve ever been?”

A rustle of wings, then the lilting voice replies, “When I was young. Before I learned how to manage my abilities. If you can see the future and you are not careful, you can look too far ahead, see the end of everything. When you are a little mothling, huddled in the dark after bedtime, there is nothing more terrifying than to let your mind wander where it need not and see the day when the planet goes dark.”

“Oh fuck, ‘Drid, I’m so sorry, I had no idea.” Duck takes his hand, feels cool chitin as the other three join it, clinging to him.

“I learned quickly to be careful. But there will still times, times like when I was driving back to Kepler to warn you all your plan would not work, where I could not stop seeing the end.”

“What did you do?” His heart cracks at the thought of Indrid hurtling down some empty highway with no relief from the image of the sky ripping away.

“I looked to better futures. To the ones where you succeeded. To the little moments that came after, even as the chances of them faded. I took comfort where I could” he lets out a weak laugh, “though I never foresaw such a comforting moment coming to me in a haunted house.”

“Me neither.” Duck thinks on the last weeks, on hushed conversations waiting for guests to come through. He’s about to say he’s glad the haunted house has let them spend more time together, but then he remembers the evenings decorating the apartments together, remembers Indrid appearing at the park to draw, remembers calling through the floor to ask if the mothman would like to come up and share the pizza he got for dinner.

“Got another weird question for you.”

Indrid’s hands tense. There’s a chirp Duck’s never heard before, unsure and hopeful.

“I know we both got plans late Halloween night to go to the Lodge. But, uh, before then…maybe we could hand out candy together. Since we made the outside of the apartments look so damn good together, seems silly to make trick or treaters climb the stairs.”

“The answer is yes. To both.”

Duck smiles, “I ain’t asked the second thing yet, sugar.”

“The answer remains the same.”

Duck raises onto his knees and kisses Indrid once, gently, and has the unique pleasure of a seven foot tall cryptid turning to butter in his arms.

Indridr nuzzles his forehead, “Is this the part where I am to say something clever about you being my treat?”

Duck snickers and kisses him again, “Nah. Just warn me if we need to stop kissing and scare folks instead.”

Indrid purrs and cuddles him into his lap, “Consider it done.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #indruck #taz amnesty #promptober #monster boyfriend

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ladylooch · 9 months

Text

Letters in Your Last Name - Chapter 18

A/N: So you like smut you say?? Good cause it's in this one twice 😉 When I say I cannot help myself with Kevin, I mean it bbys. Outside of the smut tho, I do love this chapter.. so cute.. lil angsty... doing the hard work of showing up... what isn't to love?

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: SMUTTTT 18+ content , COVID Talk, angst, swearing

Wild’s belief never wavered, which makes Game 7 defeat harder to swallow

Another year, another first round exit by the Minnesota Wild.

I watch the last few drops of Nespresso fall into my cup. The machine buzzes as it finishes up. I grab the cup, adding in my frothed cream. I glance down the hall at the bedroom door, finding it still shut and concealing my sleeping boyfriend.

Another season done; another off-season hovering. The off-season we were supposed to spend together. First in Sweden, then in Switzerland. COVID has ruined many things and it’s hold on our lives has not weakened in the slightest. Most of Europe is still closed to Americans even as vaccination rates have increased significantly in the U.S. Kevin and I are done with both rounds and thought that would be enough for me to join him in Europe. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to matter. At this point, both Sweden and Switzerland are still closed to me.

Kevin and I have known this for weeks. We have strategically been pushing the thought from our minds. Armed with the fierce hope of a deep playoff run, we continued to methodically plan our entire summer from our first day arrival in Sweden to our return to the U.S. from Switzerland. Unfortunately, for both us, and the Wild, neither of those things ended up happening.

Now, with the season over, Kevin is ready to head back to Sweden and begin training for this upcoming year. On his flight home from a Game 7 defeat, he made a long list of the improvements to focus on with Andreas this summer. Regardless of the fun we have planned, we both anticipate a tumultuous summer of both pushing for improvement and contract negotiations. With the two shortened seasons of Kevin’s latest contract, there is concern that he may not be able to secure the long term, big money contract we envisioned for him at the start of this season. Additionally, the Wild have at least two other players in Kirill Kaprizov and Joel Erikkson Ek to re-sign. With so many unknowns, it feels difficult to see where we will be going from here. We are both still hopeful that the going turns into staying.

I grab my coffee and pad out of the kitchen into the living room. I sit in one corner of the couch and look out across Minneapolis. It’s a warm, Spring day and the sun is shining brightly in the sky. Today is locker clean out which means hours of interview and goodbyes for Kevin. Later this week, the players will have an end of the year bash hosted by the Spurgeons, so the goodbyes will mostly be to the Wild Staff members and media.

After a few sips of my coffee, Kevin enters the living room with bed head hair tossed about and his MacBook Pro. He greets me with a soft kiss and a smile. He sets the open laptop next to me on the couch and wanders to the kitchen where he makes himself a Nespresso. While the machine kicks in and begins pouring Kevin’s coffee, I casually glance at the screen of his computer. There, I see he is looking at flights to Sweden from Minneapolis leaving on Sunday, five days from now. I purse my lips in both annoyance and confusion.

“You’re looking at flights?” I ask him, taking a sip of my coffee to seem chill.

“Yeah, just seeing what options are out there in the next week or so.” He responds after a yawn. The way he says this, so casually, irks me.

“But… I can’t go yet.” I say quietly, looking into the rich brown of my coffee.

“I know.” He says slowly. I’m silent as the machine finishes his drink. He grabs it and walks over to join me on the couch. “That’s why I haven’t booked anything.” I give him a skeptical look as he sips his coffee. He holds up a cautioning hand. “I’m not trying to leave without you. I want to discuss our options.”

“Well, the options are you stay here or you go without me.” I am trying to not sound angry, but there is a definite bite to my words I can’t filter out.

“I think that is simplifying it a bit.” Kevin responds, leaning back into the couch after setting his coffee down.

“Oh? It’s more complicated than that?”

“Well, yeah.”

“How so?”

“The plan for this off-season was and remains for you to come with me. I know when we started planning everything, we thought things would be open again. In Sweden, things seem to be shifting in a positive direction. There is talk that they are opening up soon to international travelers. I was thinking I could go for now and get everything settled, then when the border opens, you can join me.” Although Kevin is a Swiss native, he has permanent residency established in Sweden, therefore he can return even though international travelers are not currently permitted.

“What if this talk turns out to not be true?” I ask him.

“Then we will figure out that next step then.” I roll my eyes towards the ceiling, letting out a heavy sigh. I’m trying not to get upset, but he’s talking about leaving me here in such a casual way, like it’s not a big deal. Like we haven’t done this two other times and it didn’t almost tear us apart at the seams. How could he have forgotten the emptiness of those lonely nights? The memory still haunts me every night he’s on the road.

“Maybe that mindset works for you, but it doesn’t work for me with us anymore. Every time you leave, I’m left feeling like a piece of me is missing. I go through the motions of life, but I feel stuck in place when you’re gone. Like we are living two different lives. I want to share my life with you, Kev. Not live it while you’re 3,000 miles away and 7 hours ahead of me. Honestly, the thought of you leaving and then this turning into another 2-3 months apart, isn’t something I want to do for another summer.”

“I understand that and agree.” He says cautiously. He pauses and seems to contemplate his choice of words carefully. “Since we are being honest, I think I should go now. This is the most important off-season I’ve ever had. With two shortened seasons, I’m not sure if Billy is going to give me the long term deal that I want. Early talks haven’t looked good. This off-season is going to set my career up for a good future. A future that’s going to provide for us and our plans.” I take in his resigned features. I believe that it won’t matter what I say. He’s going. So I pack up the rest of my arguments in my head, shove them deep, and surrender to more time apart.

“Okay. If that is what is most important, then you have to go.” As easy as it has been the last few times to encourage him to go, the taste of it in my mouth right now has me wanting to spit. I’ve been so considerate and supportive of him in the past. Why can’t he consider staying here with me now?

I stand, grabbing my cup and bringing it to the sink. I know I need to leave. If I stay here, I’ll do something embarrassing like get on my knees and beg him to stay here with me. Luckily, I have the perfect excuse. “I’m going to head out. Felicia wanted to run some errands this morning without the kids.” I pour out the remaining coffee and give the cup a quick rinse. When I turn, Kevin is standing in the living room with his arms crossed, looking at me with an expression I can’t read.

“Do you have to leave right now?” He asks me. I give a shrug and a nod even though I don’t. I’m not fooling him either. “Sam.” Kevin says with slight annoyance in his tone. “If this isn’t okay…” He runs a hand through his hair nervously. “Baby, just talk to me.”

“I have, Kevin. You don’t seem interested in listening.” My voice has taken on a sharp, angry edge. At the sound of it, Kevin’s demeanor instantly turns frustrated. He rolls his eyes, setting them on me with an edge of fierceness. He is quiet, taking in the look on my face. It’s like he’s peeling back layer after layer while we stand there. It’s a vulnerability I don’t enjoy so I cross my arms over my chest to shield myself from him.

“I’ll stay here until you can come with me.” He finally says. Even though that’s what I want, deep down the instant dread begins to suffocate me. Changing his plans just for me feels like a disaster waiting to happen. What if he resents me for this later? What if missing out on this training time ends in a short term deal? Or worse, a trade and starting over? I can’t be responsible for any of that. He needs to own this decision.

“That’s fine, but it better be your decision, not something you say to make me happy but you don’t want to do. If this has any potential to be something you resent me for, you need to go. I’m not interested in being a scapegoat.” I watch as his jaw tightens further in defiance. “I can already see it on your face, Kev. You don’t want to stay here.” My nostrils flare in frustration.

“I feel like if I go, I’m going to lose you.” His eyebrows are drawn low and his eyes are squinting at me with a borderline snarl on his mouth.

“That is ridiculous. You’re not going to lose me.” I tell him, grabbing my keys and my purse from the counter. “Go to Sweden. When I can come, I’ll come.” My tone is cool and I’m purposefully being just as calm as he was earlier. I turn and start walking to the door. The tears are burning in my eyes, but I’m trying to stride confidently, like the heaviness of this isn’t crumbling my heart into pieces.

“Sam.” Kevin calls as he sighs exasperatedly. I whirl around to face him.

“I don’t know what there is left to talk about at this point, Kev. Just go book your flight. You need to be there more than you need to be here. You don’t need me. So go without me.” My voice wavers with emotion. Kevin is silent as he stares back at me, dark eyes watchful. As the seconds pass, I can feel the sadness take over my features. How many days would we be apart this time? A deep sob suddenly rocks my chest. I throw my hand over my lips tightly to keep the sound in. My tears shatter Kevin’s edginess. He is across the living room and reaching for me in seconds.

“Of course I need you. I’m staying. I’m not going to go without you.” He assures me. “I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not.” He rubs his hands up and down my back as I cry into his chest. He squeezes me tightly to him. I feel embarrassed at the amount of tears that are sinking into his shirt. At least I didn’t beg? I pull back from him and wipe my fingers beneath my eyes.

“I hate this.” I tell him, looking across the room at the bank of windows. I can’t bring myself to look at his face, but I know he stands with his arms crossed in silence, watching me. Two more tears leak out and I wipe at them angrily.

“It definitely sucks.” He says quietly. “But I really think things are going to be okay in a few weeks. In the meantime, I can train here. We can be together and then everything else will work it’s self out.”

“Are you sure?” I ask again quietly.

“About not leaving you? Yes.” He says as he reaches for my chin. He gently tilts it up until our eyes meet. His gaze is genuine and soft. “I’m all in on this, baby.”

“I know, me too. And that’s what makes it so hard when you go.” I tell him honestly. He nods slowly. His eyes are serious as they look at me. His other hand comes to my face, cupping my neck and stroking my cheek.

“None of my dreams come true without you.”

I close my eyes and lean into his touch. I feel his lips connect with mine again. This kiss is deeply intimate with fresh tears still soaking my lashes. I wrap my arms around his neck and he pulls me firmer into him. His arms slide down my back and to my thighs, lifting me up. Our kiss turns passionate and ravenous. He walks us back to the couch and falls onto it, letting me take control.

“I love you.” I whisper to him as I pull back from his lips. I look down at his face, taking in his swollen lips and muted red cheeks. His brown eyes are molten black; his hair is messy from my fingers.

"Miluji tě.” My heart swoons at the Czech I love you. When he speaks to me like this, knowing I understand, it feels like a secret that only we are in on. His hands are on my hips and he slowly rocks me into his erection. I bite my lip briefly and let out a breathy moan. “You look good up there.”

“Yeah?” I wonder, my fingers going to the edge of my t-shirt and pulling it over my head.

“Even better.” He tells me, watching me closely as his fingers go up my back, unclasping my bra. It falls between us and his lips part in a heavenly sigh. “Sweden can’t compete with you.” He says, thumbs brushing against my hard nipples. He sits up and meets my lips, flipping me onto my back in the process.

“I thought you liked me up there.” I question him, watching as he kisses down my stomach.

“I like you better under me.” He insists as his quick hands pull the rest of my clothes from my body.

His lips connect with my slick flesh and I moan out my agreement.

Later, when we are throughly satisfied, Kevin kisses the top of my head one last time before shifting from the couch. I watch with a pout as he pulls his clothes back on his gorgeous, naked body.

“Boo!” I whine to him. He laughs and comes towards me, leaning down and tugging my nipple into his mouth. “Hey.. it’s not fair to start that when you’re leaving.” Even as I say this, I hold his head to me, enjoying the intoxicating need beginning to pound in my body again.

“I’m giving you something to look forward to later.” He insists, moving to the other nipple and giving it equal attention. By the time he pulls away again, I’m writhing beneath him and breathless. “Just how I like you.” He murmurs to me, kissing my lips softly. He nuzzles my nose and then drapes a blanket over me. “I will be back after lunch. Eat without me.”

“Okay.”

My eyes follow him across the apartment where he gathers his phone, keys and hat at the door. He turns back to me, eyes watchful as he takes me in- breathless, just fucked hair and all. I slide the blanket down just enough that my nipples peak out at him, hoping they will beckon him back to me. He’s pondering something and he licks his lips in a way that makes me groan. I cover my face with my hands and then peek at him through my fingers. He slowly backs away with a grin that underlies the knowing between us both.

He exits the apartment without another word, with my heart wrapped firmly in his hands.

_ _ _

In late July, my feet dangle into the water of the infinity pool at a remote spa and hotel in the center of Sweden. We are here as a late birthday celebration for Kevin, but also for us to unwind after a few strange, tough seasons. I just finished my massage and am waiting for Kevin to appear. I’m so relaxed that I could melt into a puddle and drift away into the Swedish wilderness surrounding us. I trace circles in the water with my hot pink toes and think about how incredible this off-season has been. Kevin was right about Sweden releasing their restrictions soon. After two weeks of relaxation in Minnesota, Sweden welcomed international travelers back with open arms.

I’ve loved every minute of us living here the past two months. I can certainly see why Kevin has become so attached to the city of Gothenburg. It’s a vibrant, chill and young metro that has accepted me with open arms, including Kevin’s group of friends. These days, they truly feel like our friends. We meet up with the group every few days at the archipelago islands on the ocean, a restaurant, or at the local amusement park, Liseberg. Every day is packed with adventure, but it doesn’t feel rushed either. The overall vibe of Sweden focuses on relaxation and contentment. It’s a perfect fit for our off-season needs.

A hand comes to the top of my head to tug my pony tail in a greeting. I don’t have to look to know it’s Kevin. His touch is always assertive and sure.

“I definitely fell asleep.” He says as he sits down next to me. His legs bump into mine in the water. He has been training hard on power and strength this off season. His thighs have become as thick as tree trunks; I’ve certainly been reaping the benefits of them. Just looking at them now has my breathing becoming shallow.

“Me too.” I nod my head, looking over at him. I smile at the obvious creases in his beautiful cheeks from the pillow. “I see why they named a massage style after Sweden.”

“I wish our trainers were that nice about it.” Kevin speaks of the Wild staff members. “I swear, half the time it’s a bet to see who can inflict the most pain.”

“To be fair, that’s how you guys are able to sustain the whole year though. If they were nice about it, you’d be down with cramps and injuries a lot more.”

“Yeah I know. But once would be nice.”

“You should ask for it this year. Build it in once a week and see what happens.” I shrug, flicking my foot to toss droplets of water in the air. A few of them land on my thighs and Kevin slips into the water to submerge himself.

“Maybe I will.” He says before dipping below the surface. The pool is salt water and is warmed to borderline hot tub level, which is perfect to continue to relax the muscles after a massage like that. “Are you going to stay up there?” He ponders to me, running his hand through his wet hair to push it back from his face.

“Probably.” I shrug. Kevin contemplates that before reaching for my left leg in the water. He grabs the other one and comes to stand between my spread legs. His arms reach for my waist and I know exactly what he’s going to do.

“Don’t you dare.” I hiss at him just as he grabs me and tugs me fully into the pool. “Kevin!” I snap right as I go under. I shove at his stomach underwater and push towards the surface. I suck in an annoyed breath and narrow my eyes at him.

“What is with girls not wanting to get their hair wet in the pool?” He asks me with a puzzled scrunch of his nose.

“Because we look like this!” I exclaim, shoving my hair back from my face. “A drowned rat!”

“Well, if I’m going to make you come in public, I need you in the water.” He says quietly, grabbing the backs of my thighs and floating me to tighten my legs around his waist. One hand goes under my butt to give me leverage while the other goes to the side of my swimsuit bottoms.

“You’re really going to- oh yep.” I suck in a surprised breath as his thumb brushes against my clit. “Kay.” I rest my head against his shoulder as he massages me. “This is… ah.. fuck.” I can’t finish my sentence because what he is doing feels so damn good. I raise my head and glance over to where the door just opened. It’s a staff member who is refilling the towels on the rack.

“Can I get you two anything?” She asks us innocently.

“N-no.” I force out with a tight smile. She nods and disappears back through the door, leaving us alone again.

“Keep it together.” He murmurs. His lips brush against my ear as my breathing increases. My chest is falling and rising rapidly from desire. I try to suck in a calming breath but it comes into my mouth with a little moan. Kevin is watching every expression on my face and his teeth scrape at his bottom lip as he observes my eyes close in pleasure. Goosebumps break out across my skin and tighten my nipples against Kevin’s chest. “More?” He asks me and I nod my head immediately.

He breathes out a laugh and slips a finger into me. I promptly clamp around it and Kevin’s lips find mine. I reach a hand between us and grip his wrist tightly, holding him to me as his fingers move. With how relaxed I am from my massage and his skilled movements, I’m coming quickly despite the publicness of it.

To catch the moaning of my orgasm, I reach forward and suck the skin of his shoulder into my mouth. I can’t hold back the force of it and I bite down to stop more sounds from escaping my mouth. When I open my eyes again, my vision is blurry from the intensity. Slowly, I pull back from Kevin’s shoulder and immediately cringe.

“That’s a hickey.” I wince in slight embarrassment. “Geez, what are we 16?”

“It’s hot. I can relive this for a few days.” He grins. “The guys are going to give me some serious shit though.” He laughs, speaking of his fellow training buddies, most of whom are in the NHL. The hickey is getting redder and more distinct with each second. “It’s fine.” He tells me again after watching my discomfort increase. “As long as I can cover it with a shirt, it’s all good.”

“Okay. Sorry.” I mumble to him.

“Sorry for what? Coming so hard you had to bite me? We don’t apologize for that.” He insists. “What we do is go back to bed, order room service, and spend the rest of the day loving each other.”

“That is what we came here for.” I murmur, sliding my fingers through his hair.

When we get out of the pool to head towards our stuff, Kevin winds up and slaps my ass hard then gives it a tight squeeze. I squeak out at the force and immediately start to laugh.

“That’s for marking me as yours.” He murmurs as we slide our robes back on and grab our phones. “And this too.” He says as he leans down and crashes our lips together. It’s soft, but firm, and hints at the continued sexy time he’s promised me later. “You’re the cutest drowned rat I’ve ever seen.” He grins as he pulls away.

“Thanks, babe.”

We wander up to our room and peruse the room service menu. The only thing that Kevin seems focused on is cake, so we order that to start and see where the rest of the day takes us. When the cake arrives, Kevin brings it into the room and immediately hustles back over to his side of the bed. He doesn’t even bother to hand me a fork. I hold my hand out to him expectantly and he shakes his head after the first bite.

“No way. Mine.”

“Oh my god, are you really not going to let me have any of this cake?” I ask, watching as he shoves another large bite into his mouth. I laugh at his puffed out cheeks. He goes in for another bite and my mouth drops open in shock. “Kevin! Ugh! I knew I should have ordered my own. You’re like the cookie monster, except your vice is cake.”

“I’m not sorry. It’s really good.” He mumbles. “We should order like four more of these.”

“Can I have one bite? Just one!” I reach for the plate and he pulls it away. “Why don’t you love me!” I whine, my eyebrows furrowing in sadness.

“Fine.” He sighs in agreement, handing the plate to me. He watches with deep scrutiny as I take a forkful of the cake. “That is a big bite.” He whines to me.

“You’ve eaten over half this slice. Shut up or I’ll tell Andreas you’re cheating on your diet.” I click my tongue at him before shoving the bite into my mouth. Kevin snatches the plate away from me and I almost choke on my cake from laughing. “We have found the one thing in the world you love more than me.”

“Yep.” He immediately says, stuffing another bite into his mouth.

“I’ll remember this next time you want me to suck your dick. You’ll be like Sam, please.” I adjust my voice to mimic the twinge of his European accent as I speak. “My dick is begging for you. And I’ll be like, you better call up that cake.” He snorts on a laugh.

“Whatever. You fall to your knees half the time on your own.” I cough in surprise and my mouth drops open as I stare at him.

“Wow. Greedy and cocky today.” He points at the hickey on his shoulder with his fork.

“Enough said.”

I drop my head in my hands in a brief moment of embarrassment before crawling over to his lap. He moves the plate away from my reach protectively. I straddle him, leaning forward to kiss along his collar bone to the crook in his neck. My tongue dances along the bone to the dip where his shoulder meets his chest and I nibble on him lightly, just below my previous love mark.

“Ah…” He sucks air between his teeth and brings his free hand to my ass. He squeezes it in his hand and releases a grunt from deep in his chest. He moves to put the plate on the bedside table. “Nope. I definitely love you more than this cake.” He insists. His other hand reaches for my neck as he smashes our lips together. The kiss is sexy, filled with a desire that no cake can replicate.

Sam- 1, Cake- 0

#letters in your last name au #kevin fiala #Kevin Fiala Fic #los angeles kings #my writing #hockey fan fiction #hockey writing #NHL writing

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