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toxicanonymity · 4 months

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Prescott House Bed & Breakfast

IMGs: the Prescott house, gif of older Billy Loomis looking in the mirror with a bloody shirt, and sidney's open window at night

1.8k words, 40+ y/o!Billy Loomis x f!reader SUMMARY: You stay the night in Sidney Prescott's old room and leave the window open. WARNINGS: I8+ Billy is a ghost/hallucination that seems completely real. He's buff, has scruff, and has (somehow) aged like fine wine. P in V, creampie, light manhandling/restraint, hybristophilia (craving that criminal cock), mild degradation/teasing, pet names, somnophilia adjacent, blood.

For more than 25 years, the old Prescott house was empty and slowly rotting. With ghostface still on the prowl, the last thing the City of Woodsboro wanted was to sensationalize the original murders with a tourist attraction that could inspire copycats. The house changed owners a few times, but the city would never grant permits for renovation work, until a charming older couple from out of town bought it with plans to open a bed & breakfast.

You got a solo reservation for early October. The temperature was mild when you showed up just before dusk. If not for the pumpkins on nearly every doorstep, you might have thought it was September. A light breeze made the leaves dance across the yard as you walked up the path alone. A grandmotherly woman answered the door, and her husband was right behind her to take your bag. She offered you tea and snacks, and you chatted for a bit, then she showed you to your room. She never mentioned the Prescotts.

When she gestured to Sidney’s bedroom door, your heart skipped a beat. You had hoped, but didn’t want to ask for it over the phone. You entered the room, and she turned on the light.

Your hostess must have seen it in your face.

“Oh, is this okay?” she asked, concerned.

“Yes,” you nodded. “Yes, it’s perfect.”

As soon as you were alone, you turned off the lights, shut the door, took off your shoes, and laid down on the bed, on top of the covers. You thought about how Sidney lived there. Billy visited there. It was exhilarating just being between those walls.

When you went to shower, your heart raced as you checked behind the curtain. As usual, there was nothing. Nothing but energy. You brushed off your nerves as excitement, but there was a physical element you didn’t expect. The air felt heavy. Not stale, but thick, as if you were pushing through an invisible field as you moved.

In the shower, that feeling was overtaken by a buzz in your body. It felt you were vibrating with life. You used a shower cap, and the soap smelled like honey-almond. You thought about Billy, and warmth rushed to your loins. You’d thought about him so many times. You imagined him retreating to this very bathroom with blue balls and frantically jerking off. You imagined him looking in the mirror as he did it. You pictured the dark look on his face with all his terrible thoughts and urges simmering in the back of his mind as he stroked his cock. You thought about him coming into the toilet bowl, which made your chest erupt in goosebumps. You turned off the water and squeezed your thighs together as you let the water roll off you.

After taking off the shower cap and air drying for a minute, you toweled off, applied lotion, and put on a robe to go back to your room.

In your bedroom, you turned on a bedside lamp. You put on your white floral nightgown and frilly white socks. You slowly went around the room looking at everything. You weren’t sure anything was original, but the pastel floral bedspread had a nineties vibe. You looked in a mirror on the wall and felt like you were looking at someone else. Your fingers came to your face, and your cheek was hot to the touch. Your arms were, too, and your chest. The air was thick again, and it felt like you were moving in slow motion. You went to the window and pulled back the lace, cream curtains to have a look outside. It was hard to see with the glare, so you slid the bottom window pane up, then locked it in place. The breeze that swept in felt like heaven. There wasn’t much to see. You closed the curtains but left the window open.

You turned off the lamp as you got in bed. As you laid there in the slight moonlight, your body was throbbing with energy, but you were sleepy from your travels. The faint chirping of crickets lulled you to sleep without much difficulty.

A chill fell over the room in the middle of the night, stirring you half-awake. You felt exposed, but couldn’t reach the covers to pull them back up. Then you felt a weight descend on your hips. You opened your eyes to the looming silhouette of a man straddling you. Your heart jumped and you drew in a mouthful of air to scream, only for a large, cool hand to clamp down over your mouth. The man lowered his torso over yours and brought his mouth to your ear to warn, “Be quiet for me, babe.”

You struggled and whined into his palm. He brought his other forearm to your chest to hold you down roughly. “ Quiet ,” he demanded through gritted teeth. You nodded in compliance.

As your eyes adjusted, more details came into focus. His hair was messy and he had scruff. His shoulders were built. His biceps swelled out from his short sleeves. There was some dark, abstract design all over the front of his white t-shirt, which stretched over his strong pecs and the hint of a soft belly. He was in boxers. He was probably in his 40s.

He kneed your bare legs apart and you felt the cool air on your bare cunt as your eyes filled with tears. He smiled with one side of his mouth and it hit you like a freight train – Billy Loomis. He was too old, too built to be Billy, but his smile, and the glint in his eyes left no doubt in your mind. Your eyes widened, and your face softened. He braced his hands on either side of you and laid his hips into yours. What you felt against your front was warm, hard, and massive. You moaned into his hand, and a look of satisfaction spread across his face.

“Gonna be quiet for me?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

You were already dripping wet. You nodded.

“Good.” He slowly pulled his hand away from your mouth.

“Billy?” you whispered. Then he whispered your name back with a slow thrust against you that made you close your eyes and bite your lip in pleasure.

His pelvis lifted away, and through the cotton of his boxers, you could feel his heavy balls graze your leg as he moved to straddle a thigh. He was making room to wedge a hand between your legs. “ Mmm ,” he growled at first contact. He slowly rubbed you with three flattened fingers, just enough to gather your arousal and bring it to his lips. Your face heated up at the sight of blood on his fingers. He sucked his index finger and inhaled sharply through his nose. Then he sucked his other fingers clean and got back between your legs. He casually pulled his boxers down below his balls and ass, and his stiff cock bobbed heavily, hypnotizing you before he held his shaft in his hand with his thumb at the tip.

“You're one of those sickos ,” he taunted. “ into psychos like me .” He shook his head in mock disapproval. You didn't bother denying it. “That's okay, baby .”

He scrunched up your nightgown, hiked up your thigh, then lined himself up at your wet little hole. As soon as the tip hit your wetness, your walls were clenching, begging for it.

Holding your thigh and bracing a hand by your hip, he plunged his length into you, and his lips drew together with effort as his girth divided your insides. With a punch of his hips, he bottomed out and audibly released his breath. The stretch burned, but quickly faded. He paused and stared down at you, his chest and stomach expanding in rhythm with heavy breaths.

He released your thigh and you wrapped your legs around him. He withdrew a few inches, then shoved in again. He lowered himself so his tummy touched your middle as he began to pound you. He grunted and sighed quietly and and an orgasm brewed in your lower belly.

After a minute, he lowered more of his weight onto you, planting his forearms on your pillow on either side of your head. A salty drop of sweat fell in your mouth. His shirt was wet, and it seeped through to your gown. Your nipples sharpened under the damp fabric. He was giving it to you hard, and picking up the pace. The bed shook as he buried his length in you. He was bigger than you imagined. His whole body - bigger than any pictures you'd ever seen. Solid and strong. He felt realer than anyone you’d ever been with or even kissed.

Without easing up the power of his thrusts, he slowed down a bit and widened the stance of his arms to lower his forehead to the pillow. His scruff brushed your cheek. He stroked your other cheek with his thumb. After a few seconds, you moaned and he raised his head to meet your eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed, “I know what you want, baby.”

His cum, you wanted his cum.

You moaned as he hit the right spot and your lower torso tensed with the pressure of your building climax. He covered your mouth again, and his palm was warmer by then. You lowered your left left foot and watched his pale ass flex above the waistband of his boxers as he fucked you.

“Yeah,” he breathed, and that sent you over the edge. The pressure burst, and pleasure flooded your system with each wave of your peak. You whimpered into his hand.

“Fuck ,” he panted, fucking you through it as you clenched around him. He plunged to the hilt and erupted with a sigh. His moan was quiet but deep and drawn out, painting your insides with warm bursts. He backed up, then bottomed out again. And as you finished milking his cock, he brought his lips to yours. His lips felt full and soft. The kiss was smooth but aggressive, his tongue breaching your lips right away. He moaned into your mouth, releasing the last of his load. When he was empty, he broke the kiss with a sigh, then pulled out.

You tingled head to toe as your body brought itself back together again. He gently gripped your jaw and read your eyes. “Later, babe ” He gave you another kiss, closed mouth, before sitting back and pulling on his boxers. You laid in stunned silence as he exited through the window. You dipped a finger between your legs to check for your period, but you didn't find anything but cum.

You put on a robe and used your phone's flashlight to get to the bathroom, your body still buzzing everywhere. You looked in the mirror and almost dropped your phone when you saw your nightgown was smeared with dark blood.

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Thank you for reading! I have certain fantasies, and this one really wanted my attention. I used to have sleep paralysis as a kid. As an adult, I've had an experience kinda like this fic, but the "ghost" / hallucination was slightly translucent, despite feeling extremely real, in a very good way. It was a white guy with dark hair, dressed like he was from the 1920s-30s, including suspenders. Thin for my taste, but kinda hot. No mortal injuries.

#billy loomis #billy loomis smut #billy loomis x reader #ghostface x reader #female reader #cw somnophilia #toxicanonymity ☠️#dilf!billy loomis #hallucination!billy loomis #FIWB #ghostfacesmut #ghostface smut #ghostface x you #ghostface ☠️

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blueparadis · 8 months

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╰┈➤ ULTRAVIOLENCE ✦ SUGURU GETO.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ On Christmas evening of 2009 Geto Suguru receives an unexpected gift, a cure to his loneliness, and a curse to his mission of creating his "new world".

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ fem!reader, cult leader!geto suguru, canon divergent, profanity, prostitution, yandere!getou suguru, possessive behavior,smut, f1ngering, hand job, mutual masturbation, nipple stimulation, mutual pining, heavy angst, angst and tragedy, canon-typical violence; 4,7k word count + this this for @nagumoan's collab: 'dance with the dead'

| blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. + cross-posted to ao3.|

30th of September, 2007.

The warmth and the humidity in the air have been settling on Geto’s skin for a while. The shrill cry of cicadas has been ringing in his ears. Even now, he can hear it amidst the sound of running water, washing dishes, and the table fan.

“Otou-san will be home soon, Sugu. You don’t have to wait for him to come back. Nowadays, he works till late at night.” The elderly woman puts the poached egg in the ramen bowl and places it in front of her son. Suguru stares at the food with plain slate eyes. “Your father thinks he can help you with your higher studies.” —his mother wipes her frail, slightly wrinkled hands in her apron before dragging the chair and sitting in front of her son, face to face— “But actually, he just misses having you around the house since you moved in the dorms last month. Is the food there okay? Are you eating well?”

Suguru does not speak. He gulps remembering the taste of curses. He has been doing his job like a robot all this summer— exorcise, absorb, digest. exorcise, absorb, digest, exorcise, absorb, digest, absorb, digest— “How is Satoru?” his mother asks pulling him back into reality. Her smile was so soft smile that Suguru thought it could make lilies bloom. He just listens to his mother like he usually does whenever he visits her. His eyes fall onto the ramen bowl again, there are hot fumes emerging from it. They must smell delicious like he remembers. But unfortunately, it failed to thrum the strings of Geto Suguru’s heart.

“Okaa-san, it’s okay. I’m not that hungry. I can wait for Otou-san to come home.” he remarks, smiling at his mother letting the food get cold. He has done this so many times, engaging his mother in talk so that she does not notice how hard it is for him to chew, swallow & eat without experiencing the taste and smell of it. All he can feel on his tongue is the rotten taste of curses, the aroma of dying corpses of his fellow jujutsu sorcerers. Maybe this is why he is losing weight so fast, not because of the heat. The more he tried to cling onto the mundanity of humans the farther it slipped away from him; like sand spilling through the gaps of his fingers.

“But why aren’t you in your school dress, my dear?” His mother asks, noticing him in normal black trousers and shirt.

“Oh! It got too much dirt.” He responds, looking at the clock in the kitchen.

This time will be the last time he sees his mother’s smile, hears her voice, sees her cook food for him, and the last time he welcomes his father to home.

3rd of February, 2008

“Oka-san. Otou-san. I’m turning 18 today.” Suguru jocked down to sit in front of his parents' graveyard. He places a few incense sticks with the fragrance of chrysanthemum, two bowls full of ramen, and some sake in front of the graveyard. He looks at the poached eggs, and the lump in his throat bobs once. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come on your funeral day.”

“Neeh—Oka-san, are you listening?” His eyes perk up. “Is it bad that I don’t regret any of this?” There is a pause before he stands up again. He finishes his last bit of cigarette and burns the butt with his cursed energy. “But you know what? I’m now less angry and more guilty. Guilty of so many things—”

“Geto-sama, we don’t have much time. They will tail us soon if we are here any longer than this.” Manami speaks with worry carefully buried under her commanding tone. His phone vibrates. He checks the caller ID. Shui Kong it read. A salacious curve appears at one corner of his lip. Disbanding the star religious group was a piece of cake for him. And, now with the help of Shui Kong, he will get an endless influx of money and curses in no time yet it would not be enough to defeat ‘the strongest’; he thinks. nope, that’s wrong, deep down, he knows that.

“Yeah, you are right. Nanako and Mimiko will get scared if they wake up and find none of us.” Geto smiles before turning on his feet to walk. As he starts to walk Manami waits till he goes ahead of her, at least eight feet from her and then she follows Geto Suguru. Geto's shadow does not even touch Manami’s, never does, she makes sure of that. She does not belong to his shadow, nor as his comrade but perhaps a part of the ‘family’ that Geto-sama keeps talking about.

“I won’t be here next year,” Suguru murmurs to himself before stepping out of the graveyard. He never looked back that day not while walking, not while getting in the car, and not even through the mirror. He did not feel the need to look back.

24th of December 2009

Geto Suguru skims through the thick crowd in the front lounge of one of the most expensive brothels in the city like the bow of a ship through the waves. There are men on couches, beautiful women over them, and the blended aroma of strong cologne and burning tobacco fills the air. Not only that, the tingling music mixed with waves of laughter of women and men makes Geto slaver at the thought of killing them all. He could do it now. He has both, power and confidence. But he is not here to create a massacre.

“Getou-sama,” a familiar low hum reaches his ears making him turn his head. At first, he thought he was just imagining it then he felt a tug in his baggy pants. He lowers his eyes to the ground.

“Ahhhhh! Nanako—Suguru takes her in his arms and clears his throat before speaking making it tart at every stretch of his words— “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me at the car? It's not safe for you here.” Not only it is unsafe but also inappropriate. A girl of her age should not witness the path that could also been her if he had not saved Nanako and her twin sister two years ago. Geto strolls back towards his car. “Negi, make sure she does not follow me. ” He instructs this young lad who drove Geto today keeping a sleeping Nanako inside the car.

“Well, she wouldn't have been here if she didn't fight with her sister,” Negi responds before bowing down. Geto watches the car go inside the parking area and then he vanishes into the thick crowd like a pebble in the wind of lust, power, money, and scandal. He earns a few curious stares and with such enormously handsome features and elegantly electrifying personality who would miss? It dawns on his mind that he killed the Yakuza who owned this brothel a week ago. The crowd is bearable, well, penetrable at least. Walking amongst non-sorcerers makes him nauseous at times but now he has reached the point where a part of him is willing to abolish this useless crowd in a snap. But he does not need to, not now. Now is not the time, nor the place.

Geto Suguru should have been at his new home with his new family spending this fine Christmas evening drinking. In all honesty, he did not even have to cut through this lustrous mob if Shui Kong kept his word, that is, delivering the money in the proper place and time. The only reason why he came in person to collect the money was because Shui Kong was the one who helped him to get a grasp on the star religious group. Not only that, he kept giving Geto information about such groups, and with his cursed manipulation technique he gobbled them up in no time. It was a walk in the park for him.

There was a steady flow of curses and money. Even certain small yakuza gangs, the smart ones but with lower manpower, started to send favors to appease him. He is like a god of the underworld now. But some dumb power-hungry yakuza men refused to retort to such steps and hence, they fell prey to his curses. He is going to eventually kill all these foxes but not now. He needs them now, he needs them to dilute his presence and make himself untraceable in the hands of jujutsu sorcerers. Killing the lions has already been a huge loss.

“There you are, Mr.Kong.” Geto remarked walking into the room. He does not take a sit rather stands against the door almost covering the entrance.

“Forgive me—” Shui starts with a brilliant smile that has cracked more deals than existed. He is not a pawn but a rook. “I would have gone to your place but I am needed to resolve an issue here.”

Geto chuckles. “Maybe it's your need that brought you here.” He quipped as Shui kept two briefcases on the bed.

Shui Kong gives him an assertive look before smiling. He lights up a cigarette and says, “ Would have been a happier man if that were the case but— ” There is a ridge between Geto’s eyebrows as he refuses to finish his thoughts. Blowing a puff into the air he turns his head to the other side of the room, towards another door, and yells from the bottom of his lungs. “Princess, I don't have all day.” Geto’s eyebrows do not let go of the tension. His arms are now crossed tightly across his chest, lower lip gleaming since he swiped his tongue across it. He just needs to see this princess, just for once.

“You see, someone asked for her, a fox from a rival gang.” Kong starts to explain. The cigarette in between his index and middle finger keeps sizzling in scarlet red. “he is saying he is gonna pay full for her— you know — but she was attacked while working —”

Geto’s dark eyes are now stuck on the doorknob. It starts to rotate. He registers Shui’s words who is scrolling through his phone to call them. The click of the doorknob makes Geto release the breath he was holding back, slowly. Before the slightest part between the door and the frame, Geto’s lips part exclaiming, “Shhhhhhh!” with a hiss at the end.

You unlock the door and wait for an opening to interrupt their conversation.

Shui Kong looks at Geto and then he follows those dark drunk eyes of Geto Suguru that took him to the other side of the room. There you stood, in a translucent white dress covering you from head to toe. There is a rose around your neck and rose leaves on the hem of your full-sleeved dress but beneath the dress, anyone could easily see the bandages around certain parts of your body — scattered and ripped. Your nipples are visible too. They are perked. Geto maintains his stance, hands inside his pocket and standing by supporting his shoulder against the door frame. Only his lips move, growling and raging underneath. “So, there are still those who don't obey me,” His eyes drink in your appearance so shamelessly; utterly shamelessly.

You rake away your eyes from this man of Six feet and some inches, clamping your palms around your upper arms. Geto walks inside the room. “There will be no exchange of anything from here, Shui Kong-san.” He does not take any of the suitcases just your cell phone from the dressing table.

“Passcode?”

You exchange glances with Shui Kong before opening your mouth. He nods. You answer him, “4444.” Geto's eyes flash onto you checking if you are mocking him or not. You are not. He unlocks your phone checks the search history.

“There’s a lot of porn here.”

You rub your upper arms slowly and say, “It’s not like my clients are interested in my pleasure— or my well-being.”

“You need to check her phone to tell? Can't you tell just by looking at her?” That earns Shui Kong a momentary glare.

“Yet you are willing to sell her,” Geto prompts sarcastically with a smile plastered on his face. There is an edge in his voice. Shui does not protest. He knows what he is doing. “You can stay with me,” He offers, without thinking about the consequences of it. “Of course, you’ll keep working, then.” It takes you a moment to decipher his words but it is not something unexpected.

“Oh, I don’t mind, whatever you want.” You say quickly. “I can follow orders.” Embarrassment seeps into your skin as you realize how rushed those words were that came out of your mouth. Scanning him through the corner of your eye, you find him smirking still checking your phone.

“Get her things in the car. She will be staying with me from now on.” Geto remarks slipping the phone in his pocket before leaving.

Shui Kong sits on the bed, soft and pink with a thud. “Do you realize what you are doing, Y/N?”

“You heard him.” You say getting out of those high heels and changing into flats. Even though you are bruised you managed to get your trolley. It is a good thing that you wore a long coat to cover yourself up. People are already staring, what would they have done if you turned up in such scantily dressed attire? Your Madame has already been summoned. Getting out of the building you look around and find Geto Suguru talking to your Madame. Shui Kong is also there. The moment you open the door of the car you spot a kid sleeping on the back seat. This must be Nanako. You adjust the kid's head on your lap. She's gonna get her neck sprained if she sleeps like that. Through the window, you see Geto still talking to your Madame, as he keeps jerking his leg impatiently and occasionally scratching his forehead with his thumb.

“We can't afford to do that — her regulars — they will complain. ” she tartly remarks.

“Well, give them a discount. You know how the system works, so figure something out with Shui Kong-san.”

“Have it your way then. She was a jinx anyways ” She remarks letting all the disappointment out. It piques Geto’s interest because when he saw you, you were not looking at him, you were looking behind him. A feeble curse not visible to normal people but visible to people with enough cursed energy to become a sorcerer or an exorcist. He specifically customized this curse after digesting it to pick up ‘talents’ like you who are considered as ‘freaks’ by those idiots. Just like Nanako and Mimiko.

“What do you mean?” He tries to sound curious hiding his disgust underneath the question because he has seen all the gore behind the glory of it all.

“People say that she is a witch. She kills men and takes their money. She’s got a black cat, a big one. Can talk to birds. I’ve seen her—” Suddenly the street lights, the honking of the cars, and the sound of footsteps of passersby became loud. Geto could not hear her properly anymore. Damn filthy monkeys.

“Excuse me, I’ve got to make a call.” One more minute of her blabbering nonsense he would have killed her. Geto calls Manami stepping aside in the dark shade of the alley. He talks for about five minutes before looking your way. You do not look away, rather give him a warm smile and bow your head to appreciate his kind gesture. He immediately turns around. You think he did not see you or maybe looking at someone else or somewhere else but all he could do is stumble on his words while talking to Manami. It’s distracting. You’re distracting.

Geto Suguru walks towards the car and you fold Nanako’s legs a little to make space for him but he disappoints you thoroughly. He sits beside the driver, the barrier is up so you can not see his face. Disappointment and hurt sedimenting at the bottom of your heart you arch your head and close your eyes. It feels like, after a long time, you have closed your eyes and not for the pretense of pleasure.

January, 2010.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Geto drawls lazily as he sits on the sofa, still in his kasaya freshly finishing after seeing his visitors. He was out of town for almost a week and hence today's session was longer than usual. He needs a bath, a nice warm bath, not some scum to show up at his doorstep begging for you.

There are a bunch of men standing behind the older man, who seems to be the leader of the group; all armed, and Geto sits alone at the opposite. At times like these, he feels a little closer to the god. A middle-aged man, speaks keeping his gun on the center table, perhaps to assert dominance Geto thinks too but it makes him nothing but widen his smile. “You have something that belongs to me. And I have something that would interest you more so why don't we—”

Splotches of blood fall on his gun, warmth settling on his cheeks too like drops of oil. He turns his head to find that one of his men is sliced into two. Geto clears his throat gaining his attention again. “What a mess you have made, Toshiro-san. ” He gets up from his seat and before leaving he remarks huskily, “Please clean this up before you leave, Toshiro-san” The man, dumbfounded by what just happened, nods in agreement watching the man disappear into the inner quarters.

The dawn dies, painting the blue sky with its blood-red, agony welcoming the full moon and her bevy of stars. At night, Geto Suguru is not a monk anymore. He is much more than that — a father figure to two homeless orphans, an idol to a few who believe in his dream of creating a ‘new world’ and a savior to you.

It has been almost a month since Geto Suguru brought you to his home. At the dawn of the 25th of December 2009, when you woke up, Manami was there to help you with the chores and show you around. You have spotted Negi a few times while roaming and exploring the house, but there was no sign of that man, your so-called ‘savior’. When you asked Manami, she was rather cold while answering, “Geto-sama will be home around New Year's.”

It was not hard to pinpoint her jealousy for you. “Whore”, “Slut”, “Homebreaker”, “Witch” — the list continues. Her jealousy is just the tip of ice-berg. Maybe she had to sacrifice something greater when Geto took her in, something more important than freedom. Apart from her cold demeanor, everything was just fine; it was more than you could ask for. The wounds and bruises have started to fade. They are barely pinnable now. Nanako has a twin sister, Mimiko. They have warmed up to you more quickly than you imagined and a part of you was grateful to them since Manami became humbler in her gestures.

This fine morning, you noticed a new pair of shoes near the doormat. You knew it had to be his, Geto Suguru. He is home. Today might be the first time you get to talk to him, pay off his debts, or maybe keep working while staying here just like he said or whatever he decides to do with you. It was odd that he did not suspect you at all, or maybe he told someone to do a background check. He seems like the kind of person who would hold such powers. You have heard about him even if they reached out to you in the form of rustling rumors.

“Are you comfortable here?”

Losing your balance you topple on your feet and eventually fall on the ground. Nanako and Mimiko peeks by his legs. They are not even at his knee length, so small, so fragile and so full of life. They laugh and so do you. Geto Suguru is unimpressed. He crouches down pulling the girls in front of him. “Go and play in my room but don’t fight, alright?” The shift in his demeanor amazes you. He has changed. He is nothing like you have been warned about.

As soon as the twins leave, giggles and voices filling the corridor Geto’s eyes shift on you. You are still on the ground, legs half-folded. He extends his hand towards you to help you get up but you flinch away, sliding against the wall. In the middle of this long corridor, Geto Suguru is on his knees before you watching as if something fell from the sky, a boon, an angel.

His lips extended from ear to ear, flashing his teeth. “What's up with this coy act of yours?” He wets his bottom lip.“Too timid for a whore. I know you can see things.” Your eyebrows grew closer as you got up and formed a response in your head.

“It's hard to break years of habit,” you speak, “Sir.” you quip, seeing him still on his knees. Why isn’t he standing up? Does he need a hand?

“Not gonna complain that I called you a ‘whore’ ?” He taunts, standing up and facing you.

“Too timid for that sir,” you say keeping up the eye contact. But that does not last long. Geto’s dark globules follow your behind. You notice too that there is a shadow on the wall of the corridor of a lady. He sighs heavily exclaiming, “Manami. You can come out now,”

Timidly she walks out of the room exclaiming in a firm tone after clearing her throat, “Getou-sama, your bath has been prepared.”

“Have you prepared my clothes too?” He narrows the gulf in between the two of you and grabs a few strands of your hair smelling it, letting his lips graze over a little, and checking your reactions as Manami answers.

“No. Not yet. I’ll do it right—“Actually, prepare two sets of clothes.” Geto interrupts. The way your chest heaves, up and down, frantically tempts him to tease you more. “Hers too. She will be joining me.”

Geto was kind not to ask you to strip in front of him. It was not like you would not be used to that; you had practiced enough still you thought his eyes would alone eat you away if you were to undress in front of him. Curling up your braided hair in a bun and securing it with a clip you enter the bathroom. He is already in the bathtub, head arched, eyes closed, chest heaving up and down. You walk slowly trying not to make any sound. “You know, of all the curses I’ve swallowed—” you gasp loudly palming your face.

“Can you not do that, please? Every time i feel like my heart is gonna jump out of my chest.” So many words in one sentence; a question; a request; a demand; a plea. Suguru blinks: once, twice, and thrice. “Yours have a very distinct sweet smell.” His words slurred, inaudible at the end. This is the first time he has seen you speak so much and that too, only to him but that is not what warms his heart. ‘Sir.’ you did not add sir. He hated the honorifics with you. “And . . . I’m not a curse.” You mutter before dipping yourself in the bathtub sitting against the wall of the bathtub facing him.

You notice the huge X-shaped scar over his chest. “How did you get that?” you ask playing with the water not meeting his eye. His toes touch the side of your hips, hands resting on the white of the bathtub but when he does not answer you look up to him and see his hands near your ankles. There is a brief eye contact of realization about what’s he up to and in the next blink you are close to him.

“Do you wanna feel it?” He asks touching his forehead against yours.

“The pain?” You say, running his hands over his chest careful enough not to touch his nipple. “Or just the scar.”

“How did you get this?” He rubs the mark of one of your wounds on your arm. “And this?” he asks, a little concerned by the number and place of the wounds you have all over the body. They have faded but not totally. The agony on his face is clear but you remind yourself it is not because of you. It must be because he is reminded of how he got his scar.

“Mostly clients.” You answer noticing his hands trailing up to your breasts. Your mouth parts, eager moan willing to escape. “But some men like them. Some men don’t. So, they pay to heal them in a way like they were never there,”

“What kind do you think I’m?” Suguru asks but you fail to answer since his hands have started to massage your breasts, nice and slow. Your moans have started to weigh more, the bottom and lower lip parting with each other more. Your vision turns black as his mouth latches on the column of your neck but that is not where it is needed now. Your taut nipples need desperate attention. Moving closer to him, your palm is over his cock. He is hard, leaking even. A gran escapes from his mouth, edgy and elongated. One of his fingers dips inside your vagina. Woah. You’re wet, so very wet. Even under the water, he can feel your arousal, even smell it. You buck your hips a bit giving him an invitation. The sloshing sound of water feels more embarrassing than your moans. He does not take it but when you start to pump his cock in long, deep, and fast strokes he leans towards you taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You should have known how strong he is when he dragged you closer to himself because the way he is sucking and biting you think you will cum soon. He starts to rub your clit in rough, rigorous movements as his mouth works on your nipples. For a moment your hands feel lithe; your hands pause working his cock.

“You smell so good,” He murmurs unlatching his mouth and licking up to your collarbone from the base of your cleavage. You twist and tilt your head as his lips explore your neck while pushing his fingers up and down inside your vagina, nudging your sweet spot. Your hands start to pump his cock again, harder and faster this time, reverting him the favor with the same intensity and emotion. You feel him smirk against your skin before he bites your earlobes making you jolt. Another arm that rested on the valley of your waist tugs you closer, again; you think he is going to pull you onto his lap, fuck you deep, nice, and full. “Fuck” he mutters feeling his cock tense up. The sloshing of water now gets mixed with your loud moans mixed with his low grunts. Geto looks at your face, your eyes meeting his and occasionally landing on his lips and one of your hands gripping too hard on the whites of the bathtub. Both of your hands pick up the pace, matching the intensity and the ragged breathing. Eyes rolling white, jaw clenching hard, head arching back as the wave of orgasm approaches both of you.

“You’re close,” you huff and pant in between feeling his warm ejaculated fluid onto your hand.

“So are you,” he murmurs cumming as you keep pumping his cock till it stops. Geto pulls his fingers out of your messy aching cunt and shamelessly puts them in his mouth, licking and sucking it to the base of his fingers. You watch him as if he is the man to take your first time. The loneliness, the affection, the desire— all hit Suguru in a flash like a downpour as he notices you looking. He gets out of the bathtub and steps into the shower zone. When you hear the water running, you step out of the bathtub too but do not join him in the shower instead grab your phone with a towel that was in the pocket of his previous attire. Typing a number, you hit the send button and immediately delete it from the history.

The message read: [“I’m in.”]

note: special thanks to my dearest fumi aka dom ( @akiniku ) for constantly listening to my ideas, talking me through them, and beta-reading this when I finished it. I finished writing this today and it was so rushed by Dom talked me through it and gave me the course I needed. hope you enjoyed reading it. thank you for making it this far. i do want to continue this but will see if i can manage time to write after october.

also tagging @orchid3a @semisgroupie

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buttercupjosh · 8 months

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Jump Then Fall (The 4 times everyone else thinks you’re Quinn’s romantic partner and the 1 time you actually are)

(Gif credit to @gabelandeskog)

Word count: 5,045

Genres: strangers to friends to lovers

Warnings: none

A/N: I’ve had this specific idea in my mind for about 2 years but never wrote it out because I decided to write other things first and took certain things from this concept and kinda put it into my other stories but after Quinn was named captain in September 2023, I decided to write it out. (Speaking of my other stories, I did write a Quinn fic in 2022, which you should check out). The title and this story is based off of the song, Jump Then Fall by Taylor Swift. It’s set from this past week (October 7th-14th), with additional fictional elements added. (Yes, I decided to publish it on Quinn's birthday because why not?) It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

“I was enchanted to meet you” -Enchanted by Taylor Swift

Prologue

Losing in a fantasy sports league can come with many different types of punishment, whether it’s being forced to eat a pancake for every wrong player you picked or putting in extra money in the winning jackpot. Your punishment for losing in the fantasy sports league you participated in was wearing a very 2014 Tumblr-esque “lol ur not Quinn Hughes” shirt that your best friend got you as a gag gift for Christmas to a Canucks game. This punishment came at a convenient time when you already planned to be in Vancouver for a work conference. Accepting your fate, you proudly donned the cringey t-shirt at the game, and as expected, people did look at you weirdly. What you didn’t plan at all was that your game seats happened to be located next to where a group of some of the Canucks WAGs were sitting. Lenasia, Ethan Bear’s fiance, noticed your shirt and immediately began talking to you. You explained to her why you were wearing such a thing and that clicked an idea in her brain. Lenasia turned away, began talking again to the other WAGs she was with, and was also frantically texting someone. After a brief period, Lenasia faced back towards you and told you to wait after the game because she had a surprise for you. You had a slight inkling of what that surprise was but silently hoped that it didn’t actually come true.

After the game was completed, Lenasia led you through the tunnels of Rogers Arena and told security that you were with her. It felt weird to hear her say that, considering that you just met her a few hours ago. You stood together outside of the Canucks locker room and the feeling of embarrassment continued to rise within you as the guys filed out, some of them laughed at your shirt and then, you saw him. Quinn was right there, less than 10 feet away from you. Your suspicions were right; you would have just settled for a signed item from him and have no interaction with him but you were actually going to meet him right now. You felt like you were going to pass out but tried your best to maintain your composure. Lenasia introduced you to Quinn and told him the same story of why you were wearing a shirt with his name on it. Quinn didn’t fully quite understand why the shirt was such a big deal but agreed to take the photo with you. He was nice enough to wrap his arm around you with a side hug and being that close together oddly felt natural and comfortable for two people who had just met for the first time. After the photo was finished being taken, Quinn kindly offered to sign your shirt so he inked his signature on your right shoulder. You thanked Quinn and Lenasia again for everything and left to return to your hotel. It was a lot to process but you were rightfully shocked that you started your night fulfilling some silly punishment and ended it by meeting the person whose name is on your shirt.

The following day, you sent the photo of you and Quinn from the night before to your friends and your friends joked in the groupchat that if you played your cards right, you might be next in line to date him. Yes, you posted about it on Instagram and tagged Quinn so everyone knew you actually met him. Since the day after you met was an off day, Quinn had some time to scroll through Instagram and he saw your post. Seeing your post led him to see all of your posts and eventually, he ended up in your DMs.

Do you always look that cute wearing someone’s name?, an Instagram message from a very familiar verified account read. You couldn’t believe it and thought you were somehow dreaming when you read Quinn’s message but it was very much real. You replied back: I guess I always do but I only wear the names of attractive guys and considering this is my only piece that has an athlete’s name, I guess you should consider yourself lucky ;) It felt odd to shamelessly flirt with a famous athlete (considering that most of them wouldn’t give you the time of day anyway) but it wasn’t like you were actually going to date him or be his friend anyway (or so you had thought).

The flirty interaction eventually led to the exchange of numbers and to a long message chain between the two of you that would extend on for months. You did return home from your trip to Vancouver and maintained a long-distance friendship with Quinn. Your friendship with Quinn was great; you trusted each other, shared some secrets, did virtual movie nights together sometimes, sent memes back and forth, told some of your closest friends and family about the other, and communicated on the phone constantly. Once of your favorite things to do with Quinn was that he would always call you during your morning commute to work and on his commute home after his games to decompress after the game. Since you didn’t live in an area where there was an NHL team, your options for seeing Quinn again in person were limited and you weren’t sure if you were going to ever see him again. It felt weird to ask about seeing each other in real life so everything was just kept online until one day, the timing was right to move things offline.

————————————————————

About a year into your friendship, the right opportunity opened up for you to return to Vancouver to see Quinn again. To the delight of many, Quinn was named Captain of the Canucks and he invited you out to his first game as Captain. You were important enough to him that Quinn wanted you to be there to celebrate that amazing accomplishment; you were surprised by the invitation but excited at the prospect of seeing him again. You used some of your remaining vacation time and paid for your plane ticket to and from Vancouver; Quinn wanted to pay for something so he placed you to stay in the nicest hotel that Vancouver has to offer. You were thrilled to spend a week in Vancouver and hopefully make some fun memories with Quinn while you were there.

Your anticipation for seeing him was slightly halted when Quinn revealed that he couldn’t pick you up from the airport because your flight arrived at the same time that he had captain responsibilities to fulfill in the community so you and Quinn agreed to meet to have dinner later on that evening. Emma, Anthony Beauvillier’s girlfriend, picked you up from the airport to take you to the hotel; you had never met or interacted with Emma before but you appreciated her kind favor. The drive from Vancouver International Airport to the hotel (which Quinn did not tell you beforehand because he wanted it to be a surprise) was normally a 30-minute drive, which turned into an hour drive due to traffic. While you and Emma waited in the rush hour traffic, you talked and learned more about her, her relationship with Anthony, what things are like in Quebec, and what it’s like to be a hockey WAG. Emma had a lot of questions about your relationship with Quinn and was curious as to why you, his romantic partner, weren’t around as much before. You corrected Emma by telling her that you and Quinn were just friends and nothing more and you came to support him as your friend.

“Are you sure you and Quinn are just friends because he must really like you a lot to pay for you to stay here?”, Emma asked as you pulled up to the Fairmount Waterfront hotel.

You replied yes, you were just his friend and she handed you over your room keys that were passed to her through the chain of command. You thanked Emma for giving you a ride and you both mentioned wanting to hang out with each other again.

Quinn was not kidding when he told you that you would be staying at the best hotel in Vancouver; your room had spectacular views of the Vancouver Harbor and was very fancy. As you got ready for your dinner with Quinn, you began to reflect on your conversation with Emma about him. You could admit that he was endearingly handsome and had qualities that you were looking for in a boyfriend but you and Quinn never really discussed romantic pursuits and outside of that initial flirty exchange when you first started talking to each other and the occasional compliment, there wasn’t much flirting really going on between you. You had always assumed that Quinn had someone, whether it was someone in Vancouver or in Michigan, waiting in the wings for him. Your thoughts were interrupted when you got a text from Quinn that he was coming up to the room. It was happening; for the first time in over a year, you got to see your internet best friend in person and you were ecstatic. Although he had a copy of the hotel room key, Quinn knocked on your hotel room door and a smile beamed across both of your faces as you recognized who was standing at the doorway. Quinn engulfed you in a long-awaited hug and you rocked back and forth. There were many areas in his life that made him feel delighted but hearing you laugh was one of the best sounds to him and holding you in his arms was the greatest feeling.

After separating, you realized that Quinn was dressed for a night in while you were dressed for a night out. The weather app indicated that a storm was rolling in so Quinn dressed to stay in at the hotel, order food, and have a movie night, while you were willing to brave the rain to try some of Vancouver’s cuisine. Quinn thought that you looked nice and wished that he communicated to you that Vancouver storms were no joke and you looking cute in your rain jacket wasn’t going to push him to go out in such weather either. He also really wanted to spend time with you without the distractions that come from him going out in public. You agreed to order in and changed into more comfy clothes while you waited for the food to arrive. Preseason hockey was over so Quinn decided to treat himself (and you) to some authentic Chinese food from his favorite place. As you and Quinn indulged on the delicious Chinese food, you began catching up with each other on what had occurred in your lives recently. As Quinn shared what had been going on his life lately, you heard all of the words he was saying but the only thing you were thinking about was how you just wanted to be together and you would lose focus sometimes as he spoke. You and Quinn kept talking so much on so many different topics that it was almost midnight before you decided to watch a movie. You settled on watching Ferris Buller’s Day Off before drifting off to sleep.

————————————————————

For Quinn, it felt surreal to wake up the following morning next to you. After being in contact with you for over a year, here you were, right there, sleeping peacefully on the other side of the bed. Throughout the night, Quinn was respectful of your boundaries and no lines were crossed, everything was kept PG. You were awoken by the sound of water running coming from the bathroom and waited for Quinn to emerge out. After he came out of the bathroom, you discussed the day’s plan (which there wasn’t really one) and decided to go to breakfast at a very special place. Quinn still had some time off before the first game of the season so you had even more extra time to spend with him.

On the car ride to the restaurant, you began to imagine what it would be like to live in Vancouver. Sure, this wasn’t your first time there but you saw it in a different light as you were gazing outside of the car window with Quinn by your side. You arrived at your destination and Quinn got out and kindly came around to open the door for you; it was a sweet gesture that he didn’t have to do.

The restaurant was the same cafe that Quinn and Petey tended to frequent and the wait staff at the restaurant was so familiar with him, down to the point that they knew his exact order: plain buttermilk waffles topped with whipped cream, strawberries, raspberries, and sides of bacon, potatoes, and guacamole. The waitress, an older woman named Louise, reminded you of an endearing grandmother figure; she even put your meal on the house as a treat. After the meal concluded and you were on the way back to Quinn’s car, a fan was waiting right outside of the restaurant for an opportunity to meet the captain of their favorite team. The fan approached you, Quinn’s romantic partner, to take their photo together. You wanted to correct the fan for being wrong but you also could tell that Quinn wanted to get going so you let it be; besides, Quinn didn’t even hear the fan address you as his lover. Quinn later on apologized for the fan encounter but it wasn’t an issue for you, you understood who he was and the things that came with being a famous athlete and you expected something like that might happen while you were together. You continued on the rest of your spontaneous day, being touristy around Vancouver, visiting Gastown, Stanley Park, and Granville Island with the cutest tour guide.

————————————————————

Your time in Vancouver coincided with Canadian Thanksgiving. Dinner is usually held at the team captain’s house and since Quinn is the captain, dinner would be held at his place but since his apartment couldn’t quite hold the entire team, Tyler Myers offered to host dinner at his home. It was exciting to celebrate a holiday together and learn more about each other’s Thanksgiving traditions but it also made you feel a little nervous because you would be meeting more of Quinn’s teammates and spending time with their families. The Canucks team’s Thanksgiving dinner was potluck style and everyone had to bring something so you and Quinn offered to bring a dessert. You decided to make pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and Quinn graciously purchased the ingredients for you and let you use his kitchen. Quinn was a good sous chef; he actually enjoyed baking with you and you both had fun together. You even got into a little squabble over who would wash the dishes before agreeing that you would wash them and Quinn would dry them. After the cookies were done, you both got ready for dinner.

On the car ride over to the Myers house, your mind began to wander, contemplating about the domestic moment you shared earlier with Quinn and how you would want more moments like that with him. Quinn felt the same way but wasn’t sure how to verbally tell you that. Before you knew it, you had arrived at your destination. You casually mixed and mingled with the other Canucks players and their families; as expected, some of the players had kids and the kids were curious to know who you were and you explained to them that you were Quinn’s friend. Tristan, Tyler’s son, asked if you were Quinn’s lover friend and you were going to tell him no but you were interrupted by the message that dinner was about to be served so you let it go.

Despite your initial nervousness about the event, dinner actually went well and your cookies were a hit. The other Canucks players and their wives and girlfriends accepted you well into their group; they liked you for you and they liked you with Quinn. Due to the fact he’s their captain, some of the guys pushed Quinn into giving a speech and he expressed his thankfulness and gratitude on such a special holiday; he even looked at you when he mentioned how glad he was to have the people in the room as a part of his life.

During the post-dinner relaxation time, you and Quinn settled into watching the CFL game that was on before Tristan came up to ask the both of you to play hide and seek with him and his sister, Skylar. The football game wasn’t that interesting to either of you so you both agreed to play. Since you were the guest, the kids had you count first.

As you were looking to see where Quinn and the kids were hiding, you observed around the Myers home and began to think about how this was something that you had desired to have one day; a home full of love, laughter, and children. You checked the guest room closet to see if anyone was hiding in there before greeting Quinn by shouting BOO as soon as you opened the door. Instead of stepping out to help you find Skylar and Tristan, Quinn pulled you back into the closet and shut the door for a quiet moment alone. Quinn’s heart was beating super fast, not just because you inflicted fear into him for a brief second, but also because you were close to each other inside the dark closet. You obviously couldn’t see in the darkness but Quinn kept staring at the presumed outline of your mouth because he wanted pull you closer and kiss you so bad. Quinn almost had his chance to ask but was interrupted by the sound of children’s feet pattering on the ground and the door opening. Tristan quickly corrected you that as the counter, you were not allowed to hide until it was your turn to hide. An all-too-familiar chuckle came out of Quinn and you rolled your eyes at him since he was the one who caused you to break the rules before playing another round of hide and seek with the kids.

When it was time to say goodbye, Tristan and Skylar came over to give you a departing hug and Tristan loudly said that he had fun with you, Quinn’s special friend. It warmed your heart to hear his little voice say that to you. Before dropping you off back at the hotel, you had asked Quinn if he was going to stop and get his annual Thanksgiving apple pie slice from the bakery. He had mentioned his Thanksgiving tradition to you only once but it meant a lot to him that you had remembered that. Due to the fact that you made dessert from scratch, Quinn forgot to pick up the pie beforehand to bring to the party and the bakery with the pie that he enjoyed was already closed, but it was okay. Quinn didn’t mind skipping his tradition because he got to make a new memory with you. You and Quinn had such a good time at the Thanksgiving dinner and you had quietly hoped to get the opportunity to spend more holidays together.

————————————————————

The Canucks home opener was finally here. It was both exciting and nerve-wracking for Quinn; he knew that this day was coming but it felt a little more surreal that it was actually here. Quinn’s parents, Ellen and Jim, even flew in to watch their son receive his official captaincy before jetting off to go watch Jack and Luke at the Devils home opener the following day. You felt a bit of deja vu being back at Rogers Arena, since that was the place you and Quinn had met over a year ago, but that deja vu feeling came in a good way. It was fun to watch warmups with the other WAGs and you got to see Emma again. As warmups went on, you held J.T. Miller’s son, Owen, in your arms while Natalie Miller held her daughters, Scarlett and Scottlyn, closer to the glass to give them a better view to see their father on the ice. Since the day was very busy for Quinn, the only time he got to see you was for a brief second during warmups. Quinn’s heart swelled up with joy when he saw you at the glass, holding baby Owen and he also thought you looked so stunning and beautiful in your outfit. He wanted to pass you a puck but instead, he gave you a quick wink and passed a puck to a young fan with a sign and continued to skate around.

Warmups were over and the game was about to start soon so you went up to your seats. Instead of having you sit with the other WAGs, Quinn got you a ticket next to his parents. Of course, Quinn wanted you to meet his parents for the first time in a much more formal way but due to the limited time that you all had in Vancouver, it was slightly more convenient for you to meet his parents while at the game. It was a little awkward at first to meet Quinn’s parents because you were just Quinn’s long-distance friend and meeting the parents is a big deal but Jim and Ellen already knew who you were because you were important enough to their son that he had told them about you. Ellen mentioned to you that she suspected you were dating Quinn because he spoke so highly about you, indicating a possible crush but always shut it down by mentioning that you were just friends.

When it was time for Quinn to be introduced as captain, you got delightful goosebumps on your body because you were so proud of him. You already knew he was captain but watching some of the old Canucks captains pass the torch over to one of your best friend’s brought a rush of happiness to you; your heart even skipped a beat as he put on the jersey with the “C” on it. The game itself was amazing; the Canucks beat the Oilers 8 to 1 and Quinn had a 3-point night. Throughout little moments during the game, Jim and Ellen would ask you different questions about yourself and share tidbits about Quinn; it was nice that they were actively engaging and getting to know you. You were worried that Jim and Ellen wouldn’t like you as a person and for their son but it turns out that they enjoyed your presence and it also didn’t hurt that it was really fun to cheer for Quinn alongside his parents.

After the game was over, you, Jim, and Ellen walked down the same tunnels to the Canucks dressing room that you had walked to over a year ago when you met Quinn for the first time but this time, you weren’t as nervous to see him. Still experiencing the high from the evening’s successful game, Quinn was so ecstatic to see you, waiting for him with his beloved parents. When Quinn had invited you to come to his game, he had imagined seeing you again in those familiar halls with his parents in his mind and that moment of imagination came true. In his post-game interview, Quinn had mentioned that he would hold onto the night’s memories forever and you would also hold onto those memories in your own way too.

————————————————————

Since the Canucks had to leave for a roadtrip after their home opener and you were leaving soon, you had one last day to both celebrate Quinn’s birthday early and also to do something to say farewell to you. Instead of just a big fancy birthday/goodbye dinner, you and Quinn decided to go out for a day on the golf course and out to a casual dinner afterward; you also had to run a few errands because Quinn needed to grab some things before leaving on his upcoming road trip. Quinn picked you up to go with him to drop off his parents at the airport so that you could see them again and he wanted your opinion on some things when he went to IKEA. The car ride over to the airport was fine and Jim and Ellen didn’t mind getting in some extra time with their potential child-in-law. You and Quinn stepped out of the car to help with their bags and give his parents a goodbye hug. While you were giving the Hughes family some space and waiting in the car, Ellen whispered in her son’s ear that you were a keeper. His mother was right and Quinn had known that from the moments that he spent with you, the conversations you shared together and you were everything he ever wanted. Quinn had the keys to unlock your heart but he just needed to use them. Throughout the entire time you were there, Quinn began mentally preparing himself to confess his feelings for you somehow but those plans always fell flat because the anxiety of not being sure if you liked him romantically lingered throughout the air and he was scared to ruin the friendship you shared. He was falling for you hard but he was afraid to take that leap.

With one final wave goodbye, Jim and Ellen left for their flight to New Jersey and you and Quinn continued on the day’s itinerary. Goodbyes were always going to be a bit difficult, no matter who or what you were saying goodbye to. Quinn tried to not wear his heart on his sleeve and be strong but you could tell that Quinn was sad to see his parents go so you reached over and gently placed your hand on top of his. Quinn told you thank you and you shared a quick glance with him before arriving at IKEA. Instead of immediately telling you how he felt, you and Quinn aimlessly wandered around the large store; you had mentioned to Quinn that his apartment was missing a floor lamp in the living room so that he didn’t have to use the overhead ceiling light as much and he took you to IKEA to help him pick one out. Thursday afternoons at IKEA were quiet so it was almost like you and Quinn had the whole store to yourselves. As you walked through the store, you and Quinn looked at the different room setups and asked each other what you liked and disliked about each room setup; you also both began to imagine what it would be like to share a home together. Quinn even absentmindedly grabbed onto your hand and your fingers interlocked together for a brief second before you found the lamps and slipped your hand away to look at them. You picked out a black floor lamp that matched the aesthetic of Quinn’s apartment and continued to wander around the store until you reached the cash register. Quinn didn’t try to hold your hand again and neither of you brought up that moment for the rest of the day. Your time at the golf course was fun; being the self-proclaimed golf expert he was, Quinn did win the game.

Quinn decided that he wanted to have his birthday dinner/last meal with you at Moxie’s. While you waited for your food to arrive, you gave Quinn his birthday gift. It was challenging to get a gift for someone who could afford plenty and rarely mentioned what they wanted so you got Quinn a signed copy of Golf Kitchen, a cookbook that included recipes from some of the most famous golf clubs around the world, and a grill set that looked like golf items; it combined two of his interests: cooking and golf. Quinn was a bit taken aback by your gift because you didn’t have to actually get him anything; your presence and time spent with him was a gift within itself. He had mentioned it before but Quinn was so grateful to have you as a part of his life and he was going to miss you tremendously once you returned home. You would miss him so much and were sad that your great time with Quinn was coming to an end; you still had an extra full day in Vancouver before your flight early Saturday but the Canucks were leaving for Edmonton on Friday after morning skate.

After dinner, Quinn walked you up to your hotel room and you and Quinn continued to soak up all of the time you had left together as much as you could before the inevitable departure came. Before leaving, Quinn passed you a signed warm-up puck from last night’s game, mentioning that he owed it to you. You held the piece of rubber in your hand, smoothing your fingers over his signature.

“So now, you own two things with my name on it”, Quinn cheesily told you.

You were trying to hold back your tears and masquerade your emotions but you began to sob while embracing Quinn for one last time. Quinn felt a bit emotional too and he blurted out that he was in love with you; he decided to be brave and not let the fear take over. You thought your mind was playing a trick on you when you heard him so you looked up at the green eyes that were staring and waiting for a reply from you.

“Did you just say that you’re in love with me?”, you hesitantly asked.

“Um, maybe I should have kept that to myself. I’m sor-”, Quinn rambled.

You cut Quinn off with a kiss, something that he had been waiting a while to experience with you. You repeated that you had loved Quinn back as well. A long wave of relief rushed over the both of you; the jump was worth the fall and you were there to catch him. You didn’t have to say it out loud but Quinn knew that you would always be there for him. Quinn asked if you were available to come back to visit him for Christmas and New Year’s. Maybe losing in a fantasy league wasn’t so bad after all.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #Quinn Hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #vancouver canucks #hockey fic #my writing #hockey writing #hockey imagine #please read my story

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 8 months

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The Princess & The Playboy (Part 2)

Summary: The reader has agreed to go out with Dean for one date only but is pretty sure he's just a flirt looking to get in her pants. But Dean is more than he seems and may be the first person she can have a truly honest conversation with in a long time...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 7,600ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping, smut

A/N: I think I gave them too much trauma tbh...oh well!

_________

Eric rapped his knuckles on the doorframe of your home studio but didn’t do anything further to disturb you. You were absently plucking away on a guitar, something quiet and simple, your head spaced out as you listened to the notes over and over. You weren’t sure how it fit just yet but you liked the melody enough to jot it down in a notebook.

“That’s going to be a number one hit someday,” he said. You shrugged, setting the guitar to the side, closing your eyes. “You okay, kid?”

“The team says I’m behind on the next album. I don’t even have a single song,” you sighed. You felt him plop down on the couch beside you, your eyes peeling open, finding his stern ones looking back.

“The whole point of you ditching your first label and doing things through your team is so you’d be in control. You put out a fucking album in March. It’s September. When the hell were you supposed to be writings these songs? During the four hours of sleep a night you got while on tour the past six months?”

“Eric,” you shushed him, putting a hand on his arm. “I’m just venting. If I need you to kick someone’s ass I’ll let you know, alright?”

“Just don’t let them bully you,” he grumbled, getting to his feet. “You ready for this charity date shit?”

“I’ll happily take Dean’s ten million dollars for an hour of suffering. His fault he threw so many touchdowns last night,” you said, Eric pulling you up. “Is everything settled?”

“We rented out the restaurant. The only people inside will be the two of you, myself and his head of security. Apparently he’s famous enough he has his own protection agent, albeit he doesn’t tend to listen to them.” You saw a twinge of annoyance on his face but let it go, instead following him out and down the hall, Eric giving you a side eye. “Aren’t you going to get ready for your date?”

You slid past him and over to your front closet, shoving your feet into a pair of converse. “The man’s seen me in sweats and a hoodie. A Stones t-shirt and skinny jeans should be a step up for him.”

You swiped your crossbody bag from the front table, Eric sighing. “Let’s get this over with.”

Thirty minutes later you were sitting at a curved booth in a nice italian restaurant. Ordinarily, you never would have rented out a whole place for just yourself. But you were pissed off at your team for trying to get you to capitalize off Dean wanting a date. He seemed like a genuine fan and you’d have a conversation with him for how much he’d donated to the charity. You’d had a long conversation with them last night, with some backup from Eric over it all.

Either they backed off or you’d find a new manager, agent, PR rep, all of it. You’d done it before when you were younger and you had no problem doing it again.

Between you and Eric, you were pretty sure they were going to back off on the Dean front, at least for now.

You couldn’t help but stare when Dean came into view through the back of the restaurant. He was in a flannel and henley, dark jeans on his long legs. He smiled when he saw you but stopped short when Eric stepped in front of him. He said something you couldn’t hear, Dean flashing a wink that made Eric’s eye twitch. Dean kept approaching though, Eric now in a hushed argument with a woman in jeans and blazer that’d trailed in after Dean.

“Please don’t give my bodyguard an aneurysm. He already thinks you’re sketchy,” you said as Dean slid into the booth with a big grin.

“Oh he’ll warm up to me.” We both turned our heads at raised voices, Eric and Dean’s bodyguard going at it.

“Moron!” Eric shouted, your eyebrows raised. You didn’t have time to question his sudden lack of professionalism before she was shouting back he was a dickhead.

“Everything alright over there?” called Dean, Eric and the woman giving each other death glares before storming off to opposite sides of the restaurant. “Okay…well I’ve never seen Sloane act like that before.”

“Eric either. Weird.” You heard rustling and glanced at Dean, that silly smile still on his face. “You do understand I’m only here because you literally bought your way into a date.”

“True but I like giving to charity and if I get a date with the girl I’ve had a crush on since college, what’s the harm in that?” he teased. You crossed your arms, leaning back in your seat, his smile faltering.

“Yeah see, that’s creepy. So talk about whatever it is you want to talk about and then we can go our separate ways, alright?” He was frowning now, keeping his hands under the table. There was an still beat. Not awkward but…sad almost. “Just-”

“You think I’m creepy?” he scoffed. You shrugged, Dean’s smile returning but laced with something mean. “Because I asked for a picture?”

“No-”

“Because I posted about going to a concert which fifty thousand other people did that same night?”

“That’s not-”

“Because I gave you my number? Was that my creepy offense? Because I’m surely the first man to-”

“Okay, you know what?” you said, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at his ridiculously pretty face. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. You might be famous but you aren’t my level of famous. Everywhere in the fucking world people know who I am. Pushy men that give their number and call you their crush and basically publicly shame you into going out with them for money? Yeah, that’s fucking creepy, Winchester.”

Surprisingly, he only sat back in his seat, breathing slowly. “I’m sorry then. Just let me say one thing and then I’ll get up and leave and you never have to talk to me again.”

You unfolded your arms, offering a small nod. Dean bit his bottom lip, letting it go slowly, his chest raising and falling softly.

“You were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen when I walked into that house party my sophomore year. It was the second weekend of the semester and I’d just played my first game as quarterback. I was the backup for our school you know. I was supposed to ride the bench but Dallas got hurt…” he trailed off as you stared at him. “Doesn’t matter. But I remember that party and I remember hearing you singing along to a guitar outside by the fire pit. You uh, you had your hair in a messy bun just like it is right now. You were wearing a Kansas hoodie that was way too big for you and you had on these nike sweatpants and obnoxious orange sneakers like you didn’t give a fuck how you looked. You had no idea how stunning you were.”

You glanced down. You remembered those sneakers. You’d only worn them a few times before your roommate accidentally lost them.

“Your voice was beautiful. It still is but I’m a little sad you never do anything acoustic like you would back then. Still doesn’t matter,” he said, pausing a beat. “This isn’t a brag but girls threw themselves at me at that party. Every day after that game they did. But the only girl I wanted to get to know, wouldn’t say more than hi because I was a jock. And it took a long time for me to understand why but I do. Because I hate myself too.”

You flicked your gaze up and met his, green eyes boring into yours. You parted your lips but no words came, Dean nodding, a sad smile on his face.

“It wasn’t your fault. Your volleyball practice ran late. Your brother wasn’t your fault.” You bit the inside of your cheek and glanced away. “You hated sports after that. I read an interview that you thought sports were silly once. But I understand why. You don’t hate sports. You hate what they did to you and back then, every student athlete was just a guy that could hurt you or worse, he could get hurt too. I understand hating yourself. I was supposed to be there for my brother too but I stayed at school and fucked it all up. So I get why in college you wouldn’t give me the time of day when all I wanted was one date with the girl that made my heart skip.”

Fingers grazed your chin, cupping it gently as he forced your head up.

“But I am not creepy for you still making my heart skip and wanting a date. We’re not kids anymore, Y/N. You don’t like me then fine, but give me a chance. Don’t push me out because I’m still a guy who plays sports.”

You gently pushed his hand away, Dean sighing. “Maybe you have a point about the kinds of guys I found attractive in college. The crush isn’t what’s…” You squeezed your eyes shut. “You have had a lot of girlfriends Dean and I mean a lot. You have a new girl every week. It’s clear we are two very different kinds of people. You hookup. I don’t. I’m like a conquest or some shit because you couldn’t get me in college. That’s why we’re not talking after this…whatever the hell this is, again.”

Dean cocked his head, eyes roaming over your body. “So you won’t go out with me because you think I only want to fuck you?”

“Am I wrong?” you asked. He chuckled, his face more lively.

“Sweetheart, I’ll admit, I’d enjoy doing a lot of things with you,” he grinned. “But…I’ll make you a promise. I won’t do anything with you, won’t even fucking kiss you, until you want me to.”

“You realized what you’ve described is friendship?” He shrugged.

“We can call it that if you prefer.” You were still under his careful watch, Dean leaning forward. “But know that when you do eventually fall in love with me I’m so going to rub your face in it.”

“And there’s the cocky flirt,” you said, nodding to yourself.

“Just stating facts,” he said, flashing you a wink as he tucked his hands behind his head. You rolled your eyes, Dean enjoying this far too much. “So-”

“Here’s how this works,” you said, grabbing a menu and sliding it over to him.

“Love a woman in charge,” he teased. You growled, his eyebrows shooting up. “Oh, the princess of pop has a temper. I think I like this sassy side.”

“We eat lunch and we try to be friends,” you said ignoring him. “Anything beyond that is yet to be determined. Are we clear?”

“Oh absolutely,” he grinned. You groaned, gripping your own menu tight. “You’re too fun to tease. I’m only going to keep doing it.”

“Keep it up and see how far that gets you, Winchester,” you grumbled. He stood abruptly, your eyes widening as he slid in next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulders. “What are-”

Hot breath fanned over your ear as you felt rumbling in your chest from his deep laugh. “Sweetheart, I’ll stop teasing the day you stop blushing when I do it.”

You turned your head, Dean’s merely a few inches from your own. He looked fucking cocky and sexy with that know it all smile.

You hated that you were having more fun with his flirting than you had with a guy in a long time.

“Plus we both got that whole older sibling trauma, insane career pressure thing going on. I mean, match made in heaven right here,” he said, booping your nose. “Fuck, how are you hot and cute at the same time? No wonder the whole world loves you.”

You didn’t mean to but your eyes welled up with tears, Dean instantly pulling his arm back. You shook your head, wiping your face off with the back of your hand. “It’s not you. It’s just…that’s the second time you’ve brought up the thing we’re not…talking about. You know, our brothers. Do you…want to talk about it?”

Dean nodded. “After lunch…and somewhere private if that’s okay.”

“I can agree to that, even if our bodyguards won’t.”

“His house?” groaned Eric thirty minutes later. “His house, Y/N? You don’t know-”

“I don’t but you’ll be there and he needs to talk to someone about his brother and maybe I need a friend that’s not you that I can too. I’ve already made it clear to him that he and I are strictly friends.” Eric mumbled something but relented, the driver following after Dean’s SUV and to his home, only a short drive from your own.

Dean was waiting by the front door when you got out of the SUV, smiling as he opened it up. Eric went straight for Sloane who was nearby, the two of them bickering like cats and dogs, Dean shutting the door after them.

“Those two must have history,” he said, showing you down a front hall and through the middle of his open kitchen and living room, straight through a back door to a patio. You swore you could hear them arguing as you took a seat on an outdoor couch under an umbrella.

“I don’t think Eric’s dated since high school. Maybe they knew each other in the military or something,” you said, Dean humming.

“Could be. Sloane’s pretty much on her own too aside from the occasional hookup,” he said, sitting nearby on the couch. The air was quiet for a few moments as you took in Dean’s backyard, fairly quaint for LA standards, especially NFL quarterback standards.

“Whatever happened with you and Sam, it wasn’t your fault either.” He smiled, titling his head.

“I was supposed to go home that weekend and hangout with him. I was too damn hungover to though so I didn’t. If I’d gone home he wouldn’t have been walking home at night by himself. It wouldn’t have happened to him so it is my fault.”

You closed your eyes. “Well, I was late picking up Max and he walked home at night too so either we were both at fault or neither one of us was.”

“You were late from practice. Your coach made you late, not-”

“We were late because I got to practice late because I was making out with our fucking quarterback in the art room.” You felt him shift closer, arm around your shoulders as you forced yourself to look at him. “I didn’t hate athletes, Dean. I hated that because I was too busy kissing one, my little brother’s life was ruined. We’re old enough to know that it could have happened at any time, whether we were there or not.”

“I know,” he said quietly. You tentatively wrapped your arms around his waist, Dean smiling. “I never knew anyone else that had someone taken from them.”

“Me either. I mean I’ve met some through the charity but no one that knows…”

“The world thinks you’re perfect because you’re good at your job and you smile for a camera.” You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. “My friend Benny said you talked to him in english about Sammy.”

“I remember him. He was cute,” you said, Dean growling. “Someone jealous?”

“I’m the one pining after you, remember?” He laughed quietly, his long fingers brushing against your exposed arm. “He didn’t tell me until yesterday. I was on edge a lot back then. Even now Sam’s a touchy subject.”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me.” He shook his head.

“You’re different. You know how hopeless it feels, what it’s like to have a funeral without a body, without knowing for sure.” You hummed, giving him a gentle hug.

“From our parents perspective, I understand why. We know the statistics and after so many years missing, so many experts telling them their kid is gone-”

“They needed to try to move on,” he finished. His fingers stilled on your skin, his body tense. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. Not without knowing for sure.”

You smiled, turning your head to meet his own worried eyes. “Me either. Guess we have that unhealthy trait in common.”

“I don’t think we’re doing too bad for ourselves all things considered.” You stood up, taking a few steps away before turning on your heels. Dean’s face was neutral as you crossed your arms. “You don’t like me, do you.”

“I think…” you trailed off, trying to word this nicely. “I think all we have in common is we went to the same college and both have little brothers that were kidnapped. I am open to being friends, Dean. I am. But I don’t think what you want to happen here-”

“You’re wrong.” You frowned as he rose from his seat, stalking over slowly, eyeing you in a way that made you feel very warm all of a sudden. He didn’t stop until he was by your side, staring you down. “I can ignore the blushing, ignore how the second we’re in private you are holding onto me like we’ve known each other more than an hour. I can even ignore how you look at me with those big eyes and pouty lips like you want to climb me like a fucking tree.”

“That is not true.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting it up as he brought his face close, warm breath fawning over your face. “I don’t like you like that.”

“Yes you do and that scares you. I fuck away my fear of intamacy and you hide from it. That’s our problem, isn’t it. You and I hide differently. Well I’m done hiding and girl, you need to be done too. Don’t you get that we are safe for each other? I get that you are going to be nervous about this and you get that I’m not a tool. We can learn together, learn something that is not easy for anyone but especially people like us that have everything so damn publicized. Most of all we can trust each other unlike the rest of the world. We won’t hurt each other and you know it. You just won’t admit it. You won’t let yourself care for someone that isn’t capable of defending themselves. Why do you think your bodyguard is your best friend? You have got to give us-”

“Good god you never shut up,” you said, reaching up and grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. Dean’s lips were instantly moving against yours, not taking ownership of the kiss but giving as much pressure as you were giving.

Hands cupped your cheeks, holding you steady as he smiled, teasingly dipping his tongue inside the dark cavern of your mouth. Dean pulled away much too soon, green orbs staring down, the heat in them cutting right through your core.

“I strike a nerve, sweetheart?” he teased. You scoffed, Dean tracing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Or does my armchair psychology just turn you on?”

“I was simply trying to get you to shut up.”

“Oh. Well feel free to shut me up anytime you like.” You growled, Dean cupping your chin and pecking a softer kiss on you. You rose up on your tiptoes, Dean shushing you. “S’okay to admit you like traumatized cocky guys, princess.”

“You are insufferable,” you said, Dean smirking while you poked him in the ribs. “I never said I like you, Winchester.”

“Right,” he said, taking your hand and tugging you along after him. “Well come pretend to hate my company before I have to head to afternoon practice.”

“Insufferable.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

Dean POV

“Hey,” I said late that night, answering my phone when I saw Y/N was calling. “You miss me already, sweetheart?”

“As if,” scoffed Y/N, quiet for a moment. “How was your practice?”

“Alright. How-”

“Just alright?” she interrupted. I raised my eyebrow, even if I was alone in my kitchen. Unlike Y/N, Sloane was the extent of my security team. Between her and myself, we had things covered. Sure, I was famous but it was different than being a pop star. I went to games that had security, a practice facility that had security, sets for commercials where they always had security. My home was in a gated community. The only reason Sloane was even on the payroll was peace of mind for my parents. She didn’t even go anywhere with me unless I asked.

“It was fine. Why?” I asked, Y/N going quiet again.

“Maybe I’m crazy but people that are in relationships generally ask how each other’s day went.” I closed my eyes, biting back a groan. “It’s already past eight. I should go.”

“Y/N-” The phone beeped, a glance down showing the call had ended. “Fuck me.”

I dialed her back, the phone picking up on the fourth ring, Y/N staying silent.

“Don’t hang up on me again.” She sighed softly, my stomach forming a knot. “Y/N…”

“I don’t think this is a good idea. We both have crazy schedules and-”

“I told you earlier you don’t have to be scared of me. I know that’s what this is. You want to get to know me. Why else would you call? But you want an out too. Well I’m not giving it to you so suck it up cause you’re stuck with me. Understand?”

The line was quiet before I heard a bed creak, followed by a thick swallow. “I never said I’d date you, Dean.”

“Well we are so get used to it.” She mumbled something I couldn’t make out, my stomach still sour. “I will not hurt you, Y/N. That’s a promise.”

“You went out with forty two different women so far this year. Forty two. You spend every weekend fucking a new woman while I…” she trailed off, her voice still to thick for my liking. Was she crying? Fighting back tears?

“What’s wrong, princess?” I asked gently, her voice hiccuping. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry Dean but I’m clearly not mature enough for any kind of relationship with you. Please forget this happened.” She hung up again, my stomach fully twisted up.

I was not going to let her fear stop her from living her damn life. I texted Sloane and two minutes later I was calling a different number, swallowing down my nerves.

“Dean Winchester,” said Eric, Y/N’s more than intimidating bodyguard. “Why the fuck are you calling me?”

“I need to know where Y/N lives. I want to go over and check on her.”

“What the fuck do you mean check on her?” he snapped, a loud scrape in the background like a chair falling over.

“She’s fine! She’s fine,” I said, Eric’s loud growl making my ear hurt. “She’s upset is all and-”

“Let me guess. You made her upset?” I swallowed.

“Not on purpose. I-”

“What did I say to you at the restaurant? What the fuck did I say to you?” he grit out. I sighed as I went to my front door and slipped on a pair of sneakers. “I said if you hurt her, I’d fucking make your life hell. And what did you do? Sounds like you fucking hurt her. You understand why the fuck I wouldn’t tell you where she lives?”

“Eric, if you want to beat the shit out of me or bury me in the backyard or do whatever the hell you want to me, then fine. Go ahead. But she’s sitting in her house crying right now and this is something you can’t fix. So save my murder until after I can make her feel better, alright?”

“I’d rather shoot my own dick off than tell your slutty ass where she lives. I will check on her-”

I grabbed my keys off the front table and went outside, squeezing my phone tight. “Has she ever had a boyfriend?”

“Why the fuck-”

“Because you know as much as I have she hasn’t, not since Max was taken. She is scared of getting close to people and you know it. You’re the one person that’s been by her side since she got famous, aren’t you? I am asking you as someone that cares about her, as people that both care about her, please tell me. I need to at least try and help her know she’s not a lost cause.”

“Why on earth would she think that?”

“Because I have the same head as her,” I said, slipping behind the wheel of my SUV. “Be at the house too, I don’t care. But let me try, man. Please.”

The line was quiet, my heart in my throat as the seconds passed by.

“9 Hunt Lane. She’s a three minute drive from your house. Tell the guard at the gate ‘Cherry Blossom’ and they’ll let you in.”

“Thank you,” I said, starting the car.

“If you fuck with her-”

“I know. You’ll cut my balls off or some shit,” I said, opening my gate and backing out.

“Oh that’d be the nicest thing I’d do to you.” I didn’t put it past him that it was the truth. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Don’t trust me, buddy?” I tried to joke but it came out forced.

“I’m your fucking nightmare, not your buddy.” He hung up and I stared at the phone a moment.

“I would hate to know how you treat me if I wasn’t your favorite player,” I mumbled, taking off and in front of Y/N’s house before I knew it. I hadn’t realized we lived in the same neighborhood, just opposite sides. Her security guards at the gate were giving me a good side eye until I uttered the magic words. The next thing I knew, I was being let in the front door of the house by them, the thing closing tight after me, one of them locking it back up from the outside.

I kicked off my shoes and walked through the massive front hallway to the back of the house, looking all around but finding it dark. Until I glanced upstairs, a light coming from down the hallway. I quickly jogged upstairs, pausing halfway down the hall to a pair of double doors, one of them open.

“Y/N, it’s me Dean,” I called out so I didn’t frighten her. I could have sworn I still heard a sharp intake of air inside. “Eric gave me the secret password to get in. You’re going to have to tell me what cherry blossoms means some…”

My mouth snapped shut when I stepped into the room, Y/N wiping away at her eyes with the sleeves of an oversized hoodie. I frowned and walked in further, pulling away her hands from where she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Oh sweetie.” My heart clenched at the site of her red, puffy eyes, at the dried tear tracks down her cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m what’s wrong!” she growled, trying to push me away but my hands around her wrist stopping her in place. “You want me? Me? I’m a fucking disaster, Winchester.”

“If you’re one then so am I.” She shook her head as I knelt in front of her, Y/N looking over my head. “Talk to me, princess.”

“At least you’ve had relationships and fucked other people.” I stared up at her, a pair of harsh eyes looking down at me. “I’m thirty two years old and as far as I’ve ever gotten was a kiss. A kiss. Because all men want is my money or fame or to fuck the virgin. To screw the pop princess and further their own careers.”

“Y/N-”

“The second I care about someone and let my guard down, they’re gonna hurt me or worse. Someone’s gonna hurt them and I can’t do jack shit,” she shot out, her chest heaving as more tears flowed. She stared me down, shrugging. “I’m too hurt to believe that you don’t want me for me, that you won’t get hurt too. You will get hurt. People want to be with me and if you were, you’re just a target. A fucking bulls eye on your back for life. Either you fuck me over or someone fucks you over. That’s all there is. That’s it. So why the fuck would I sign up for that? Why would I-”

I leaned forward and tilted my head up, catching her lips briefly. I hated the taste of salt on them, of the way I could feel her body shake as she fought back even more tears. I pulled back slowly, keeping close, her big eyes watching me with so much fear but something else too.

Desire. Longing.

“Remember earlier when we said we both had to learn and we’d do that together? Well that’s what this is, princess. So you get scared and I’ll be here to remind you to, okay?” I whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. She looked so confused, watching as I wiped off her face with my hand. “I don’t give a fuck that you’re a virgin by the way. You deserve to choose how and when you want to love someone with your body and that’s your choice alone.”

Her bottom lip wobbled as she nodded, my thumb running over it.

“Don’t be afraid of me, baby,” I murmured, tucking a piece of damp hair behind her ear. “Tell me who hurt you so much to make you think you’re unlovable.”

Her eyes shimmered, gaze casting down. “He was my responsibility. I was supposed to protect him and…” She forced her head up, face scrunching up as I held her cheeks. “I’m going to fuck that up again. Whatever man I’m with, I’m going to let him down. I’m going to let my partner down again. And I’m too weak to stop it.”

“Hey, hey,” I said softly, waiting a beat until she was looking at me, bleary eyes, runny nose and and all. “I am your partner and you will not let me down. We will protect each other. That’s how it works.”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” she whispered, voice ragged. “The attention. The death threats. The creeps. The way people write letters and offer information on Max that are full of lies. You’re famous but it’s not like this. All of that will happen to you too. I can’t protect you from it, Dean. No one can.”

I touched my forehead to hers, shushing her when she shivered. “You’re right. It’d be another crazy ass level of infamy that I don’t know. And people will hate me for it. But they hate me already for losing games, for getting a flag, for not running when they don’t know the fucking plays. People will hate us for no reason no matter what we do. So why the hell wouldn’t I want to be happy with you while that’s happening?”

She sighed, gently taking hold of my hand. “I’m not the girl with the designer clothes and hair extensions and fake eye lashes with a smile everyone thinks I am. This is what I am behind closed doors, Dean. Why would you ever want this?”

“Because I fell for the girl who looked like a hot mess around a backyard campfire, the sweet one that valued her school work and gave the boys without the good looks attention because of what was in their heads. You have a charity to try and shut down trafficking rings. You have never said a bad thing about another celebrity when we know some of them deserve it. Don’t you know how good of a soul you have, princess? Scars and all, it’s the one I want.”

I ran my finger down the curve of her cheek, her free hand going to my shoulder, gripping it gently.

“It’s so unfair,” she said, sliding her hand up to my face. “You’re only supposed to be a handsome cocky flirt. You’re not supposed to be sweet too.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I whispered as she tilted her head closer, her breath warm, a faint whiff of mint in the air. “I know you want me. So take me.”

Y/N’s eyes grew a sliver darker, nose jammed against my own. “You sure you want that?”

“I’m already yours.” She crashed her lips to mine, tugging on my hand. She wouldn’t let me breakaway as I rose to my feet, crawling onto the bed as she laid back. I yelped when her legs wrapped around my waist and she flipped me to the other side of the bed, her body straddling mine. She lowered her torso, dipping in a way that made my cock strain in my jeans, her face only inches from mine. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

“I said I’ve never had sex. Never said I’d be innocent.” She said, pressing her lips to mine, a twinge of something in her face pulling her back after a second. “I’m not ready for that tonight.”

“That’s okay,” I reassured her because it completely was. She eased and brought her head down, kissing under my jaw and doing nothing to ease the twitch in my dick.

“Your dick seems to have other plans,” she murmured.

“Ignore him,” I said, cupping her face so she saw I was serious. “You are wildly unphased about the fact a cock is poking into the back of your thigh for someone who’s never even seen one you realize?”

“I’ve seen them, just not in person,” she said, eyes going to my lips. “And I wouldn’t say unphased is what I am…just don’t want to send the wrong impression.”

“Is it turning you on?” I asked carefully, Y/N nodding once. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Keep it to your hands,” she said quietly, before kissing me again. I let her run things, her slow wandering fingers quickly tugging in my hair as her kiss turned rougher. She gasped when I put my hands on her waist and squeezed, earning me one of her hands fisting my shirt. She was getting into it, her breath hitching for barely a moment as I slid a hand under the waistband of her sweats, under the cotton underwear.

Her hips rolled while my fingers made their way over her smooth mound and suddenly I was touching her slit, teasingly gracing the tip of one finger through her folds.

“Oh,” she said, when I brushed her clit, her eyes meeting mine. I stared up at her, the room dead silent. A grin spread onto her face, a giggle escaping. “I didn’t mean for you to stop. Feels different from when I do it.”

“Good different or bad different?” I asked, still not moving.

“Your fingers are bigger than mine,” she said, rocking her hips forward, my finger rubbing against her. “Definitely a good different.”

I blinked a few times, shaking my head with a big smile. “Y/N Y/L/N. Are you humping my hand?”

“Yeah. And?” she asked, grinding her hips down, biting her bottom lip.

“Definitely not innocent,” I said, moving my fingers again, Y/N’s lips parting when I slipped a finger inside her wet core, leaving my thumb to rub circles around the bundle of nerves.

“More,” she whispered, capturing my lips, a breathy moan rising up her throat as I pushed another finger inside. I curled them and rubbed, Y/N’s body sparking like a live wire. “What the fuck…”

I ground my palm against her clit as I thrust my fingers inside her, slamming right against her g-spot. Y/N’s eyes squeezed shut as she full body shuddered, this one clearly pleasant, head shaking once.

“Go with it,” I murmured as she yanked on my hair, her body unsure of what to do with this kind of pleasure. I’d only heard it described to me but I knew there was a difference between a normal orgasm and one that came from hitting that spot deep inside, one her little fingers couldn’t quite reach.

Her jaw dropped as her eyes fluttered open, giving me a chance to lean up and kiss her as she rode out the first wave of an orgasm.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” she panted against my lips, voice growing higher. Y/N whimpered when she went straight into a second orgasm, her hips jerking frantically, searching for more.

Finally when her legs were quivering and she put a hand on my wrist, I stopped moving, Y/N rolling onto the bed beside me. She breathed hard with closed eyes, a thin layer of sweat on her face. I carefully started to pull my hand away, her hand squeezing my wrist hard. She forced her eyes open, no shred of worry or fear in them now.

“Do that again,” she whispered, removing her hand from my wrist and sliding it over to my stomach, down towards the obvious bulge in my pants.

“Y/N-”

“I can trust you, right?” I nodded, Y/N working my belt open. “Then trust me too.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. She smiled, lazily nodding.

“I’m not the only one with a problem connecting to someone. I’m just the one that cried all over themselves before you helped me. Now it’s your turn.”

“Okay,” I whispered, Y/N stopping after unbuttoning the denim. Her eyes flickered to find mine, her hand moving up to tickle the skin of my stomach.

“If you’re with me, you’re with me, Dean. No one else.”

“I already told you, princess. I’m yours.” She raised her chin, satisfied with that answer. But still, she didn’t move. “What’s wrong?”

“Why won’t you commit to anyone? Honest answer.” I closed my eyes, her small hand on my face making me slowly open them. “I’m not going to hurt you either.”

“Part of it is Sam. Feeling responsible, not wanting to feel that pain again. Love would…” I trailed off.

“Someone that can destroy you again.” I nodded, removing my hand from her pants, letting it rest on her hip instead.

“I don’t want that pain,” I whispered. “And I don’t get it as bad as you but women just want to use me. Date a NFL player and they can launch their influencer careers or model or whatever. So I let them use my body instead and I used theirs and I didn’t have to worry about getting hurt. But that’s not the real reason.”

Y/N ran her fingers through my hair, looking at me with the softest eyes I’d ever seen, reminding me of Sammy for a split second.

“It’s hard to move on when you’re still hung up on the girl from college that wouldn’t give you the time of day.” She swallowed down a thick lump in her throat, watching me oh so carefully, looking for any sign of bullshit. I didn’t blame her one bit. “I told you I had a crush on you.”

“You get over crushes,” she whispered, her voice gentle.

“You do. S’really fucking weird though to get a crush on a girl who went through the same shitty life experience as you, who ended up having as massive of a career as you, all before you ever knew that shit about her. Life’s funny like that, isn’t it.”

“If Sam hadn’t gone missing-”

“I would have pursued you. But I was so goddamn broken my last two years of school, I couldn’t handle that kind of rejection. Everybody thinks Finish Line is such a happy song because of the beat but it’s fucking tragic, isn’t it? I never saw that until after he was gone. I knew only someone in pain could have written those lyrics. Neither one of us back then were ready for a relationship, not when it was so raw.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I wish I could have been there for you back then.”

“Want to know something embarrassing? I have a playlist that’s just your songs. I listen to it before every game for luck. I would wish I’d said something to you in college because now you’re so beautiful and so famous and I’m the emotionally distant playboy you’d never go out with. I’d have to do something stupid like bribe you into a date by giving to your charity. That guy’s a fucking loser all because he never got over you…and I still don’t know if you just pity me or if you actually might like me too.” Water welled in her eyes again, my hand reaching out to catch it.

“We’re going to make a promise,” she said, holding my hand to her chest. “We don’t hate ourselves anymore. You’re not the playboy anymore. I’m not afraid of moments like this. You’re Dean and I’m Y/N and we like each other. We are two people dating and figuring it out like everyone else in the world. You are not a loser, Winchester. Promise?”

“Promise,” I said, lacing our fingers together. I chuckled, Y/N scooting closer to rest her head on my shoulder. “Look at us. I think we’re getting the hang of this having a healthy relationship thing.”

“People make it seem so hard,” she joked, wrapping her arm around my waist. “Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you harassed me into that date.” I smirked, Y/N growling. “Don’t let it go to your head or I won’t give you a handjob.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I teased, Y/N eyeing me as her hand shifted downwards. “Hey, you really don’t have-”

She covered my mouth with a finger, shushing me. “I want to. Just tell me if I can make it better for you, okay?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to do just fine with it, princess.”

One Hour Later

I jogged downstairs, leaving Y/N lax in bed, completely blissed out from another round of orgasms. Turns out she had a pretty damn healthy sex drive. I cut her off at a blowjob though. She’d had an emotional night and I wanted her to feel good, not self-conscious about going too fast. I’d told her to wash up and clean off her face while I dished up our takeout and brought it up. Neither of us had eaten dinner yet and it wasn’t hard to convince her to split a pizza and garlic bread with me.

Downstairs I poked around her kitchen for a bit before I found some plates, napkins and a pair of water bottles.

“Here.” I jumped at the sudden voice, spinning around to find Eric setting a pizza box and smaller container on the kitchen island.

“Uh, thanks. How-”

“Guards at the gate have a card they use to pay for takeout with,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “Your hair is tousled.”

I reached up to pat it down, Eric stalking over to me, cornering me against the counter. “Listen-”

“She needs a good man, not a fuckboy.” I cocked my head at him, Eric crossing his arms.

“You don’t know me,” I said, moving past him, setting everything on top of the pizza box.

“Yes I do,” he said behind me, hairs on the back of my neck standing up. “You’re going to butter her up because you share a history, break down her walls until you get in her pants. You’re already getting in, obviously. Once you fuck her a few times, then you’ll be gone, playboy Winchester got the pop princess, like a predator that caught his prey finally. Press will fucking love it and you’ll be able to fuck literally any woman on earth you want to which is all you want, isn’t it?”

I spun around, a dark scowl on his face as I pressed my chest to his, hands clenched by my side.

“You can be an ass to me all you want. You can think what you want. I know you care about her, love her even. So put on the tough guy act all you want. But we both know you wouldn’t have told me where she lives, wouldn’t have given me the magic password if you thought I would hurt her. You know exactly the kind of man I am. I bet you fucking know better than most people in the world, don’t you?”

He had two inches on me and used it to stare me down, his jaw clenched, a vein in his forehead pulsing. “She is not the kind of girl you hookup with. It’s all or nothing with her.”

“I will give her my all. I swear.” He bumped my shoulder as he walked past me, footsteps stopping a few feet behind me.

“If you love her the way I know you do, then you better.”

“How do you know I do?” I asked but he walked away and out the front door. Whatever. He wasn’t my concern anyway. I grabbed the box and headed upstairs, ready to enjoy dinner with my girl.

________

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x #football au

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lixzey · 7 months

Text

Almost A Love Story

September 1, 1977

The sun slowly crept through the curtains, peering over the young witch, who was comfortably sleeping in her bed. Rosalie Evans stood by the door of her only daughter's bedroom, a small smile on her lips as she admired her. She slowly crept towards the side of Y/n's bed, taking a seat in the empty space beside her daughter.

“Darling, get up. It's September first, your last year at Hogwarts.” Rosalie kissed her daughter's forehead before nudging Y/n slightly.

“Five more minutes, Mum,” Y/n mumbled, turning away from her mother and throwing a pillow over her head.

“No can do, darling. It's already half past eight, and we still have a long way to King's Cross.” Y/n groaned, making her mother chuckle. “Breakfast's ready; I made your favorite chocolate chip pancakes with bacon on the side.”

At the mention of her favorite, Y/n turned to face her mother with bleary eyes. “Fine, give me ten minutes, Mum.”

The older woman chuckled before planting a kiss on her daughter's forehead. “Okay, take your time, my little daffodil.”

Y/n slowly got up and rubbed her eyes as her mother left the room. A loud yawn escaped her lips as she tore the covers off of her body. “Last and final year at Hogwarts, Y/n/n. After this, you won't have to deal with loud, squealing roommates anymore. You'll get a job, and you'll be able to help your Mum.” Y/n sighed softly, gazing over the photo on her bedside table. She got out of bed and opened the curtains, letting sunlight in. “You can do this.”

Y/n Evans was never a standout student. She was, in every sense of the word, average. She never considered herself extraordinary; the only thing she ever considered remarkable about herself was the fact that she had magic running in her veins. Despite all that, she was never one to consider herself, in any way, exceptional compared to most of the magical and muggle population.

Y/n spent her years at Hogwarts as one of the background characters, never the main character, always one amidst the sea of red, green, blue, and yellow. It was alright; she wasn't complaining, though, because she never really liked being the center of attention. Y/n only had one friend, Emily Roswell, who's another muggle-born witch like her. Y/n Evans liked her life just the way it was, being one of those people who just seemed to blend into the background—uninteresting enough to even notice.

Unbeknownst to her, all that was about to change in her seventh and final year at Hogwarts.

The young witch started to get ready for the first day back at Hogwarts. After a while, Y/n descended into the kitchen, clad in a white shirt and denim bell-bottom jeans. Rosalie smiled at the sight of her daughter. “Looking good, my little daffodil.”

Y/n chuckled, sitting at the other end of the table in front of her mother. “Thanks, Mum, so breakfast?” Rosalie nodded, pushing a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of the young witch, who immediately dug into the fresh stack.

“What's an Auror again, darling?”

"So, sweetheart, what are your plans after you finish Hogwarts?” Rosalie asked.

Y/n looked at her mother, shrugging her shoulders. “I honestly don't know yet, Mum. I guess I'll apply for a position at the ministry. Though, I'm leaning more towards being an Auror.”

“An Auror is like a policeman, Mum. Aurors catch dark wizards.”

Rosalie's eyes widened. “Are you sure you want to be an auror, darling?”

“If I could, I would, Mum. But I haven't taken my N.E.W.T.'s yet, and that will determine if I'm eligible,” Y/n explained, noticing her mother's worried look. “If not, I'll find a job here, in the muggle world.” Y/n smiled, grabbing her mother's hand. “Don't worry, Mum, I'll be alright.”

Y/n loved her mother's nickname for her. Though she wasn't named after a flower, Rosalie nicknamed her after one. Daffodils symbolize new beginnings, hope, and joy. Rosalie found it fitting for a nickname for her little daughter because Y/n was her new beginning after everything that happened in her life. Y/n is the light of her mother's life—like how daffodils emerge each spring to light up barren landscapes with cheerful colors.

Rosalie sighed, gripping her daughter's hand. “You know I won't stop worrying about you, my little daffodil.”

Y/n gave her mother an assuring smile. “I know, Mum. But I promise to steer clear of harm's way.”

“I mean it, Y/n. You stay out of harm's way; do you hear me?”

“Promise.”

After breakfast, Y/n packed up her trunk with her mother, making sure she didn't leave anything important behind. Y/n grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder before dragging her large trunk out of her bedroom door and down to the car. As soon as everything was checked and done, the mother-daughter duo drove to King's Cross station.

Y/n sang Dancing Queen while on the way to the station, at the top of her lungs, while her mother laughed at her. “You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen!”

Rosalie smiled at her daughter. She could light up a room with that infectious smile and her bright eyes—full of life and passion. “You're turning seventeen soon, little daffodil.” Rosalie turned to face her daughter. “What do you want this year, love?”

“I dunno, I have everything I could ever want.” Y/n shrugged, lowering the radio volume. “I guess a new book?”

Rosalie chuckled. “You always ask for a new book.”

Y/n raised a brow at her mother, a small smirk on her pink lips. “Well, what should I ask for?”

“What about a camera? You could make a journal full of memories from your final year, so one day, when you have kids of your own, you could show them.”

Y/n scoffed, “Really, Mum? Kids?”

Rosalie chuckled. “You should ask God for a boyfriend for your birthday this year.”

“Mum!” Y/n's eyes widened, her cheeks flushing. “I do not need a boyfriend!”

Rosalie stifled a laugh. “You need a little love in your life.”

“Oh, please, Mum. I get plenty of love from you.” Y/n rolled her eyes. “And besides, I'm not interested in getting a boyfriend anytime soon. I'm focused on my studies; a boyfriend will only be a distraction.”

“When love comes, love comes.”

Y/n rolled her eyes again at her mother. She wasn't interested in falling in love—for now, at least. “Whatever, Mum.”

The car finally stopped in front of King's Cross. Y/n stepped out of the car, grabbing her bag, before walking to get a trolley for her trunk. Rosalie helped her daughter place her trunk on the trolley before accompanying her.

The mother-and-daughter duo eased their way through the bustling crowd of King's Cross, making their way over to the platforms. As the two stopped in front of the familiar platforms nine and ten, Rosalie turned to her daughter, beaming with pride as she cupped her face. “Go on, my little daffodil, go make memories.”

Y/n turned to her trolley, gripping the handle. She cast one last look at her mother, who smiled and urged her to go on. Y/n took a deep breath before running through the barrier that separated platforms nine and ten. The young witch grinned at the sight of the familiar scarlet train greeting her, smoke billowing out of the engine.

Y/n wrapped her arms around her mother. “I love you, Mum.”

Rosalie placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead. “I love you too, my little daffodil. Go on then.” She pulled away from her daughter's embrace. “You go ahead. Be sure to write, alright? I'll have that camera for you by your birthday in December.”

Y/n strolled through the platform, her eyes searching for her best friend in the sea of chattering students. She ducked away from the students and rushed forward to the nearby door of the train, tugging her trunk behind her. When she made her way aboard, Y/n made her way down the aisle in search of an empty compartment and her best friend.

While wandering through the train in search of an empty compartment, Y/n heard a loud crash. She turned around and saw the Marauders running away from Severus Snape, who was currently sporting bright red hair. The boys sped past her, knocking her over in the process.

“You prat!” Y/n shrieked angrily as she fell onto the floor.

“Sorry!” The boy with messy raven hair that stuck up behind his head in weird directions, also known as James Potter, abruptly stopped and apologized with a cheeky grin before turning back and running away.

In some cases, Y/n was mistaken for Lily Evans. Y/n was not, in any way, related to the redheaded girl. The last name Evans was not uncommon in the muggle world, though only she and Lily were the only known Evans' in Hogwarts—and both did not know each other well. Y/n was adopted at the young age of three, never knowing who her biological parents were or whether they were purebloods or what.

Y/n rolled her eyes before standing up and stepping into a nearby compartment, settling inside. The first day of her final year, she gets knocked over by four idiots. What could possibly go worse? Y/n sighed as she watched from the window as parents waved to their children when the train pulled out of the station as the clock struck eleven. She always got jealous of those who had their parents hug them on the platform and wave them off as the train left. How she wished that her mother got the chance to see her off, but her mother couldn't step on Platform nine and three quarters, being a muggle and all. Y/n brushed the feeling off, opening her bag and pulling out her favorite book. She might as well enjoy the peace and quiet before the Marauders get another idea, causing mayhem on the train—again.

Being in the background meant she saw each and every time the Marauders pulled something off. Like that one time in their third year when Potter and Black nearly set the train on fire when they set off a firecracker inside the compartment. Or that one incident in their fifth year when the whole train got flooded because of Ligare Pluviam cast on Severus Snape. Those boys never pass on a chance to pester Snape, the usual target of all of their pranks. Not that Y/n could blame them; Snape was really insufferable and a bully—Y/n was a victim of the Slytherin a few times. Snape made it his mission to insult people who got in his way, sneering and looking down at muggle-borns—except for Lily Evans.

Lily was famous; everyone in Hogwarts loved her, with the exception of Slytherins. She was smart, the brightest witch of her age, always top of the class. In other words, Lily Evans is everything that Y/n Evans was not. Though Y/n didn't mind, she'd rather be invisible than have boys flocking all over her. Lily had boys fawning over her, and one of them was James Potter.

James Potter had been in love with the redheaded witch since their first year. Y/n didn't quite understand why James kept on asking Lily Evans out when every time he did, she'd turn him down. What was so special about her? Besides being pretty and smart, why does James Potter worship the ground she walks on like some kind of goddess? He looks like a lovesick puppy chasing after her, always doing something to catch her attention.

Suddenly, the door to the compartment opened, snapping Y/n out of her thoughts. Emily stood by the door, a huge grin plastered on her face as she sat down beside her. “Hey, Y/n/n.”

Y/n smiled at her friend. “Hey, Ems. How was your summer?”

“Absolutely awful. I was forced to attend a debutante ball.” Emily grimaced. “They forced me to wear this frilly white ball gown.”

Y/n cringed. “Ugh, I can see it.”

Emily chuckled. “Well, that was my summer. I mean, I literally just stayed in my room all summer, apart from that bloody ball. So anyway, have you heard who the head boy and girl are? ”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, scrunching her nose. “Why do I need to know who? It's not like I care, and besides, they may be as shitty as the last.”

“It's Potter and Evans—Lily Evans.”

“So? Potter will probably try to woo her like always, and she'll hit him with anything within reach. Honestly, it's getting pretty old seeing him shamelessly flirt with that girl who doesn't even give him a second glance.”

“Well, you have to admit that Lily is one lucky witch.”

Y/n scoffed. “I wouldn't call her lucky.”

Emily cocked a brow at her friend. “Oh? And why is that, Miss Evans?”

Y/n rolled her eyes at her friend. “Have you tried getting pestered every bloody day for the last six years?” Though she hadn't experienced getting pestered by the opposite sex, Y/n knew it wasn't the best feeling. “That bloke's nutters when it comes to her.”

“I suppose so.” Emily chuckled. “Anyway, how was your summer?”

The Marauders—James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew—sat inside their self-proclaimed compartment. Boxes and wrappings of sweets scattered around while Sirius and Peter played Wizard's Chess—Sirus losing against Peter, who was grinning smugly at him. Remus sat beside the window, his eyes glued to his copy of Advanced Potions.

“Prongs, what are you doing?” Sirius eyed his friend, who had slumped on the floor right beside Remus' leg, pulling out a quill and parchment from his bag. James looked up at Sirius, who was peering over his shoulder.

"I'm going to write Evans a letter," James said with a proud smirk.

“Again?” Peter raised a brow at James, who scowled at him.

James has loved Lily Evans since the day he laid eyes on the fiery redhead. He has asked her out multiple times, and each time he did, he ended up getting hexed or hit with an object within Lily's reach. Though James did not mind, he was persistent and had already set his eyes on his goal.

“She'll love me; I just know it. Evans will be my witch by the end of the year.” James grinned proudly before turning back to scribbling his letter for his precious lily-flower.

Evans, go out on a date with me? Meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight?

- James Potter, your future husband.

Remus looked down, his eyes landing on James' wonky handwriting on the parchment. “Your future husband? Really?” He snorted, closing the book in his shut. “Merlin, you're hopeless.”

Sirius and Peter burst out in a fit of laughter, both nearly breathless. “She's going to burn that as soon as it reaches her,” Sirius said, clutching his stomach, still laughing.

James scowled and glared at his friend. “Shut up, Pads," He huffed before slipping the parchment into an envelope. “I'm going to find an owl to deliver this to my future wife.”

Emily Rosswell made her way through the halls of the Hogwarts' Express in search of the Trolley Witch for some sweets for herself and her friend, Y/n. Suddenly, she bumped into someone, making her stop in her tracks.

James stood up, straightening his robes and making sure he was presentable before stepping out of the compartment. “Wish me luck, boys.” Sirius and Peter snickered at their friend, while Remus just shook his head, knowing that James' plan would fail miserably again.

“Sorry, I-” she said, looking up to see James Potter giving her an apologetic smile. “Alright there? Sorry 'bout that; I wasn't looking my way.”

Emily chuckled nervously. “It's alright, uh, I'll go ahead.” Emily turned to leave, excited to tell Y/n what had just happened. But James stopped her, his hazel eyes shining with mischief.

“Can you do me a favor? Miss?” James asked with an amused smile.

“Roswell. Emily Roswell.”

“Emily, yes, so can you do me a favor, love?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Emily accepted the letter in her hand.

Emily arched her brow, confused as to why James Potter was asking her for a favor, but nonetheless, she nodded.

James grinned before fishing for the letter inside his robe pocket and giving it to the blonde witch in front of him. “Can you give this to Evans?”

“Thanks,” James smiled before turning his back and walking back to the compartment he shared with his friends.

Emily stood there, flabbergasted. James Potter had just given her a letter to give to her friend! She quickly ran back to the compartment, abandoning the search for the Trolley Witch.

Y/n was peacefully sitting in the compartment, her legs tucked behind her knees and her nose stuck in a book.

“Y/n!” Emily squealed, “I have something for you!” Emily giggled as she sat beside her best friend.

Y/n arched her brow, eyeing her best friend with a skeptical look. “What is it? I thought you were going to get some sweets.”

Emily waved a hand, dismissing her friend. “Sweets can wait!” She pulled out an envelope from her pocket and passed it over to Y/n.

“Who's it from?” Y/n asked, her brows furrowed in confusion as she ran her thumb over the envelope.

“Open it to find out!” Emily urged her friend, a wide grin on her face. Y/n rolled her eyes, sighing, before opening the letter.

Evans, go out on a date with me? Meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight?

-James Potter, your future husband.

“What the fuck?” Y/n said, confused, her eyes wide as she read the wonky penmanship of James fucking Potter.

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @lilmaymayy @ashlynnmalfoy @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @imnotoverlyobsessive @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29 @saintcosette @reg-arcturus-black @kurtboydrarry @ttulipwritezz @idli-dosa @remussbitch @mauverickk

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eddiexmunsonlover · 2 months

Text

One Step Away From You (Chapter 2)

ExBestFriend!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Chapter Summary: It's your first day back at Hawkins High. Your day goes as expected, until you see the face of your ex-best friend, Eddie Munson, at a lunch table with your younger friends.

WC: 5.7k

Warnings: MDNI. Explicit language used. Descriptions of anxiety, mentions of depression.

Notes: I've been dying to post this chapter. I've been waiting to post chapters until I have the next one finished, and it's been harder than expected to not just post them right away. This chapter features time spent with the younger kids, and Steve and Robin, as well as a little flashback. I hope you guys enjoy!

Monday, September 16th, 1985

Your eyes slowly open, taking in the dawn sky peeking through your curtains as the sun begins to rise. Your eyes shift to the clock by your bed, 5 minutes before your alarm goes off. Yawning, your hand falls to rest on your cat Henny, peacefully sleeping against your chest. You smile as you gently pet his soft black fur, enjoying the few moments of peace before you have to get ready. Moments of peace, soon interrupted by anxious thoughts about your first day back at Hawkins High. The repetitive feeling of your cat’s fur against your hand helps to keep your thoughts from spiraling too much. That is until the sudden, loud blaring of your alarm caused him to sprint off the bed in a flash. You snort out a laugh as you quickly turn off your alarm.

Stretching out all your limbs, you climb out of bed with a sigh and head to the bathroom to start your morning routine. You spend a few minutes browsing your wardrobe, deciding on what to wear for your first day outfit. Finally deciding on a pair of your favorite acid wash jeans that hug your curves, a Metallica Ride the Lightning shirt, and your trusty, worn black converse hi-tops. You turn to your vanity, beginning your usual hair and make-up routine. You kept your hair in its natural form, only adding some hairspray to your roots to add some volume. Followed by a smokey eye, winged eyeliner, mascara, and some chapstick. You grab your bag, keys, and a pack of pop-tarts, giving Henny a kiss on his head before heading out the door.

You start your truck, turning the dial of the radio until you hear the familiar sounds of Hall & Oates. You light a menthol cigarette, a habit picked up from your parents and the stress of the last few years, before backing out of your driveway. You take note of the same unfamiliar van in Uncle Wayne’s driveway as you pull out of the trailer park. As you drive down the road, singing along to Out of Touch, you feel that familiar anxious knot start to form in your stomach as you get closer to the school.

A knot that only grows when you pull into Hawkins High’s parking lot, noting all the cars and students already there. You pull into an open space in the back and park your truck, sighing as you finish your cigarette, eyes roaming among the students lingering around their cars. Starting at a new school was never easy, but starting at a new school after the year had already started was worse. Today marked the 3rd week of the school year. You hope the year was still fresh enough that no one would pay particular attention to a newer face. Who were you kidding, in a town as small as Hawkins? Of course they would notice. You groan before deciding, Fuck it, let’s get this over with. You grab your bag and begin walking toward the school entrance, not letting your eyes linger away from the main doors to meet the ones of your fellow students.

After 3 years, the halls of Hawkins High are still familiar to you, finding your way to the principal’s office easily. You enter, eyes falling onto a middle-aged woman, clad in all purple clothing and accessories as you approach her desk.

“Hi, uhm-” you cleared your throat, prompting her eyes to lift to meet yours. “It’s my first day. My mom already took care of the paperwork. I’m here to get my locker and class schedule.” You notice the way her eyes look you over, squinting scrutinizingly in the process.

“Name?” she asks, voice monotone as she reaches for a folder of papers in the desk drawer. You give your name, watching as she shuffles through them. Your eyes briefly look around, landing on the door to the Principal’s office. You can’t help rolling your eyes as you notice the plaque on the door, Principal Higgins. Can’t wait to deal with that prick again. You look back to the receptionist as she wordlessly hands over 2 papers with your locker information and your class schedule. Her eyes never look back up to you as she quickly resumes her previous task. Your body shifts awkwardly.

“Uh, thank you. Have a good one” you politely offer as you turn to leave. Rolling your eyes and muttering “Rude bitch” as you re-enter the halls and head to your first class.

Your first few classes of the day go as expected. Much to your dismay, your presence had caught the eyes and attention of a few of your peers. If it wasn’t for the fact that your presence in their classes is new, your looks would be grabbing their attention regardless. You did your best to be as unbothered as you could, ignoring their gazes and whispers as you focused on the lectures or doodling in your notebook. As you sit in your last class before lunch, you can’t help but feel frustrated at your predicament.

Moving back to Virginia in 10th grade had fucked everything up for you. To say you were devastated after the move is an understatement. You struggled to adjust; switching schools half-way through the school year, leaving behind Eddie, your Dad, and your parents' crumbled marriage. You fell into a depression and didn’t attempt to make new friends or try to pass your classes. By the end of your 10th grade year you’d failed most of your classes, causing you to be held back and having to redo the year over again. If your family had never fallen apart and you’d never moved, you would’ve graduated this past May.

There’s no point in lingering on it now, it’s done. The best thing you could do now is stay on top of your schoolwork, graduate next May and hopefully go off to college in the Fall to start the rest of your life.

Your eyes shoot up from your notebook as the bell rings, dragging you out of your thoughts. You collect your things, following your peers into the quickly crowding halls. You originally planned to spend your lunch period in the library, setting up your school planner and figuring out assignments you already needed to catch up on. However, your young friend Mike Wheeler on the other hand, insisted that you come and sit with the boys for lunch when you’d called and let them know you were back in Hawkins.

The cafeteria buzzes with its usual chatter, as does the Hellfire table. Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Grant discuss the latest DnD campaign, begging Eddie for details of the upcoming one this Friday. Eddie laughs bashfully, denying their requests. Until he notices the newer, younger members of Hellfire completely oblivious to their conversation, and thoroughly engaged in their own. Eddie attempts to filter out the whines of the older members.

“I’m so happy she’s back, I can’t believe it.” Dustin remarks.

“I know! You told her to come sit with us right?” Lucas directs at Mike, who eagerly nods his head in response.

“Yeah, has anyone seen her yet?”

The other two boys shake their heads.

“I could’ve sworn I saw her on my way to 3rd period but I wasn’t sure” Dustin adds.

“Man. It’s nice we’ll actually get to go to school together, at least for this year.” Lucas says, referencing the few years you have on them.

It’s a rapid fire conversation Eddie can barely hear. Just when he’s about to interrupt and ask who the hell they’re talking about,

“Oh wait, there she is!”

Eddie’s eyes follow to where the younger boys’ eyes and small waves are directed toward, eyes landing on you.

Eddie’s movements freeze, breath hitching in his throat as he watches you. It’s like everything moves in slow motion. Your eyes quickly scan the cafeteria, uncertainty sketched across your face. Until your eyes catch the younger boys, and a breathtaking smile spreads across your face that knocks the air right out of his goddamn lungs. You giggle softly as you begin to walk towards them. And all Eddie can do is fucking stare.

He has to force himself to blink multiple times to make sure he’s not dreaming. It’s really you. What the fuck, it’s you?? He could only watch in disbelief, brain short circuiting. In the nearly 3 years that had passed, you really didn’t look much different at all. You did seem more confident, comfortable in yourself. Your features had matured a bit more too, but you still had that same baby face; pink, chubby cheeks and soft jawline. Only now your hair is a few shades lighter and you’re sporting a nose ring. Your body had filled out more too, the same body Eddie had practically gawked over seen from his bedroom window yesterday. Now that he has a view from the front, he can’t stop his eyes from fully looking you over. From your gorgeous face, to the faint outline of your plush stomach through your Metallica shirt, to your thick thighs that rubbed against each other as you walked. Eddie was still frozen in place as you finally approach the table, eyes not having met his yet.

You greet the younger boys with a smile,

“Hey buds” you exclaim happily. Your arms wrap around Mike and Lucas, giving them both a half hug before rounding the other side of the table to Dustin, ruffling his hair playfully.

“How’s freshman year treating y’all?” You ask genuinely. You can’t deny that you had worried a bit for them. Freshman year can be rough, especially for a ‘freak’.

“Good”

“Eh”

“Not so bad” Mike shrugs, “the club has helped.” His head gestures to the other, older boys at the rest of the table.

Your eyes follow, noting the other boys’ eyes are already on you, watching in subtle curiosity. Your eyes land on the boy sitting at the head of the table. Hair long, dark, and wild. An unreadable expression on his face, dark brown eyes boring into yours.

Eddie. Fuckkkk.

Your eyes widen slightly, smile faltering as you try to swallow the lump that just lodged itself in your throat. You try your best to put on a genuine smile, only partially effective as an awkward half smile tugs at your lips.

“Hey, Eddie” you offer with a small nod.

His mind finally snaps out of its daze, reality and resentment setting in. He coughs lightly, clearing his throat as his features and gaze harden.

“Y/N” he offers, voice cold as he snatches his gaze from yours. He resumes eating his pretzels, as if your very presence didn’t just shatter his world as he knew it.

“You guys know each other?” Lucas asks curiously.

Dustin turns his head to look up at you behind him, eyes widening.

“Wait… Eddie? As in THE Eddie… that taught you DnD?” Dustin asks.

You give him a tight lipped smile as you nod,

“The one and only.”

You begin to fidget on your feet uncomfortably, stomach turning.

“I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots until now.” Dustin breathes out slowly.

“Whoa… you should totally join and play with us!” Mike quickly adds.

Abort mission. Abort mission. Your thoughts scream at you.

“Oh, that’s alright.” You dismiss him quickly with a smile and small wave of your hand, “Anyway, I just came by to say ‘Hi’ to you guys real quick. I gotta get going.”

You’re greeted with a chorus of groans from the younger boys. You offer a small nod and tight-lipped smile to the older boys. Your eyes briefly glance at Eddie, whose eyes haven’t left his pretzels since first leaving yours. You tell the younger boys you’ll see them later as you begin to walk off towards the exit. Finally releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. A breath that’s quickly catching in your throat again as you hear fast footsteps approaching from behind you and feel a hand on your shoulder. You relax as you turn and see Dustin’s face.

“Hey, wait. So reaalllly quick. Lucas and Mike wanted me to ask if you wouldn’t mind giving us a ride home after school?”

“Seriously man?” You let out a genuine laugh, caught off guard.

“Oh, come onnn. You remember how much it sucks to ride the bus! Pretty pretty please??” Dustin asks, putting on the best puppy eyes he can manage. You roll your eyes and groan playfully at him.

“Fine, but whoever gets to my truck first gets to sit in the cab with me, the last 2 are stuck in the truck bed” you add.

If you’re gonna be stuck giving them a ride, you’d at least get some entertainment out of watching them race for the best seat. Dustin salutes you before scurrying back to the Hellfire table as you turn and walk out of the cafeteria as quickly as your legs can take you.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant share curious, confused, but knowing glances at each other and Eddie. Picking up on the undeniable tension in the air between him and this girl. Feeling their eyes on him, and before Gareth can even open his mouth, Eddie’s hand shoots up to cut him off.

“Don’t.”

They’d drop it for now, but Eddie knew it was only a matter of time before it was brought up, whether by them or the newer members whom you seemed to know so well.

Shitshitshit! Your thoughts rapidly fly through your head as you hightail it to the library to spend the remainder of your lunch. Eddie’s was the last face you expected to see at school, in Hawkins. Let alone sitting at a table, in a DnD club with your young friends. What the hell is he still doing here anyway? Remember that comforting, hopeful feeling you had? It was long gone now, dissipating at the sight of your old best friend. Crumbling into ashes as your eyes met his, his face even more beautiful than you remembered… and hardened as he saw you.

You were so confused. Last you knew of Eddie was that he had hooked up with some girl who worked for a record company in LA, recording a demo tape for a record deal back in Spring 84’. At least that’s what you and Eddie’s friend from the trailer park and Corroded Coffin's drummer, Ronnie had relayed to you over the phone. You’d asked her not to give you any more updates about him after that, the news making your stomach drop. When she went off to NYU later that year, you figured the band had just replaced her with a new drummer.

You enter the library and head towards an old spot of yours, a table in the back tucked between bookshelves rarely perused by your peers. Your head falls into your hands as you plop down into a chair, sighing deeply as you attempt to calm your thoughts and breathing. All those thoughts and feelings about Eddie you’d tried to bury over the last few years were now clawing their way out of the grave and overtaking your mind.

You feebly try to push them down again. You look at the lunch you had packed for yourself. Knowing you couldn’t stomach it right now, you pull out your planner and syllabi from your earlier classes. It only leads to your thoughts of Eddie and your school work hashing it out in your head for your undivided attention. You sigh again, already knowing which will be the winner. Leaning back in your chair, you think about how exactly you got here. How the best friend you’ve ever had could barely make any eye contact with you, and the sight of him made you have a near panic attack.

It had been a cloudy day in early December 1982, when you dragged your feet across the road to the Munson trailer. Sprinkles of rain began to fall, soaking into your hair as you dreaded breaking the news to your best friend. You willed away the tears that were already building in your eyes before you could even step onto Uncle Wayne’s porch. A few moments after your weak knocks on the door, it opened to reveal your best friend. His signature cheeky smile plastered on his face, quickly slipping away when he noted the somber look on yours.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” He asked softly, hand reaching for your arm as he stepped out the trailer to join you on the porch. You couldn’t look him in the eyes, you knew as soon as you did you wouldn’t be able to stop the waterfall.

“I’m leaving, Eddie…” you mutter, voice soft and cracking.

“Leaving? W-What do you mean?” Eddie asks, confusion seeping through his voice and features. You gulp, trying to calm yourself before you continue. “Is it your dad? Is he giving you guys problems? I told you, you can come to me and Wayne if he-”

“No-No. He’s in the tank for a DUI right now a-and Mom thinks… it’s perfect timing to just get away, put some distance…” you manage to get out. You take a deep breath before willing yourself to look up and finally meet his eyes. “We’re moving back to Virginia.”

Your eyes search his as yours begin to well with tears. Finally saying the words to him made it real, definite, final. He sighs deeply, a small frown pulling at his lips.

“C’mere…” He whispers, pulling you into his chest as his arms wrap around and squeeze you tightly. His gesture causes your tears to fall freely. You almost feel bad that you’re no doubt soaking his shirt and leaving behind an embarrassing wet spot, but the feeling of his arms around you and the sad, anxious thoughts flying through your mind distract you from it.

“It’s gonna be okay” he says reassuringly, a hand softly rubbing up and down your back.

After a minute he pulls back, hands holding both of your arms as he looks at you with a small smile.

“They have phones back in Virginia, right?” he asks, joking lightly. Anything to lessen the frown and tears streaking your cheeks. You smirk softly in response, nodding your head as you wipe your tears. “Then it’ll be okay. We’ll call a-and talk about school, new records, DnD campaigns… that dick Higgins” A brief, wet laugh escapes your mouth at his words.

“all the things we talk about now. I promise.” He finishes, moving one of his hands from your arm to extend his pinky finger out to you. A long playful gesture you’ve done since meeting in 4th grade. You take a moment to let his words and optimism sink in.

You wrap your pinky finger around his, offering back a small smile. “Promise.”

The bell signaling the end of the lunch period pulls you out of your memory. You collect your things, taking your place in the halls among your peers as you head toward your next class. Only 3 more periods to get through, that’s it. Just 3. Then you can go home, and dig into your stash for some relief from this whirlwind of a day. You take a deep breath and put on a brave face as you walk into your English class. You’re one of the first students there, quickly grabbing an open seat in the back. Settling in, you pull out your notebook from your bag, facing toward the front of the class just as a patched denim jacket catches your eye. Eddie saunters in, dropping ungracefully into a seat in the back, 2 rows away from you. This can’t be happening. You lace your fingers together, resting your mouth against them as you stare at the board, not daring to let your eyes wander towards the long haired boy.

A soft gasp coming from your right grabs your attention,

“Hey, I know you! Scoops Ahoy right?” You look over the girl as she takes a seat next to you. She looks familiar, you’d definitely seen her a few times while you were working at Scoops this summer. Donna? Denise? Debbie? You tried remembering the girl's name, knowing Steve had mentioned it at some point.

You clear your throat before answering, “Yeah, mhm. That’s me.”

“Oh my gosh. I still can’t believe what happened with the fire. I mean, a grease fire? From that god awful Hot Dog on a Stick place? Still so crazy to me.” She states, shaking her head in disbelief. You nod softly in response.

“Yeah, tell me about it. Guess they never learned grease and water don’t mix.” You breathe out a soft laugh, “Not an experience I’ll forget anytime soon, that’s for sure.”

“For sure, I bet! Hey, I thought I remembered Steve saying something about you just visiting for the summer… I’m guessing you’re here to stay?”

You were a little taken aback at how kind she’s being. She seemed nice enough buying ice cream, but holding a full on conversation with you in a classroom was unexpected. By the looks of her, she wouldn’t be considered a ‘freak’ by any means. Not popular, but not an outcast either.

“Yeah that’s right, at least until graduation.” you respond with a soft smile that she quickly returns.

“Cool. Well anyway, I’m glad you guys made it out okay.”

“Thanks, me too” You finish as she settles into her seat, just as Ms. O’Donnel begins to speak at the front of the class.

As you settle back into your own seat, your cheeks warm. He didn’t hear that, did he? You try to pay attention to Ms. O’Donnel as she discusses The Catcher in the Rye when you can feel eyes on you. Taking in your peripheral vision confirms it. Yep, he definitely heard that. Eddie is practically staring daggers at the side of your face before scoffing, shaking his head and looking toward the front of the class.

It takes every fiber of his being to not storm out of the classroom right in that moment, but he actually wanted to try and graduate this year, so he stays. Leg rapidly bouncing, biting down his already short nails just to attempt to calm the nerves and emotions raging through his body. Seeing you again, then to overhear that you had been visiting Hawkins in the summer this whole time… it’s too much for him to process. He’s hurting, fucking heartbroken actually, but that’s being overshadowed by anger. He knew it. Part of him never wanted to fully admit it to himself, but now he knows it’s true. You had truly abandoned him. He’s never blamed you for moving back to Virginia. That wasn’t your fault. You had no control over it, and he knew that. What he could never understand though, was why a couple months after you’d moved, you stopped calling and returning his calls. He used to go over and over in his head if he had done something, said something wrong and could never think of anything. He had tried not to let himself linger on it for too long and put on a tough front. He had been wrong about you, he’d decided. You were just like all the other people in his life that just hurt and abandoned him. That’s what he had to tell himself to move on and not drive himself crazy. Even if part of him didn’t, wouldn’t believe it. Well now he knows. You’d been visiting in the summers this whole time, and never bothered to tell him or see him? He still doesn’t understand why, but now he knows that he was right.

As soon as the bell rings, Eddie’s the first out of his seat and out of the door. You take a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to crawl in a hole and hide, the undeniable feeling of guilt overtaking you. You know you can’t, however. You’re going to have to tough it out for 2 more periods. Eddie doesn’t even attempt it, immediately walking out to his spot in the woods behind the school to smoke, to try to calm his body and mind so he can at least try to attend his last class of the day.

Art happens to be his last class of the day, a class that he notices upon entering, is another he has to share with you. If you had known your first day was going to go like this, you would’ve just stayed in bed with Henny all day. You shake your head to yourself, knowing this is something you won’t be able to avoid and run away from for long. Is that something you even want? You tended to avoid conflict and confrontation at all cost… but you love Eddie. You miss Eddie. You know things are the way they are because of you. You have to take responsibility for it. You had known dropping contact with Eddie might hurt him, but you told yourself it probably wouldn’t bother him that much and he’d move on quickly. The insecure part of your brain told you, you probably didn’t mean as much to him as he did to you. Seeing his reaction today at lunch, and in class overhearing of your summer visits he wasn’t included in, tells you you’re dead wrong. What the hell am I going to do? How am I going to fix this?

When the bell rings this time to signal the end of the school day, you’re the first out of your seat and the classroom. Stopping at your locker to collect the last of your things into your bag before heading to the front doors. Stepping outside you take a deep breath of fresh air, digging for your pack of cigarettes and quickly lighting one. You close your eyes as you blow out the smoke, immediately feeling slightly calmer.

Then, just as if the gods have heard your plea for some lightness to this quickly souring day, you spot a familiar BMW pulling into the front of the school. You can’t deny the smile that quickly appears on your face. You put out your cig before Robin inevitably joins, knowing her distaste for it. You stroll over to the car as Steve parks it, already jumping out of the driver's seat to wrap you in a tight hug. You giggle, hugging him back.

“Hey, haircut. Miss me that much already?”

“Hush it, Y/L/N.” Steve quips. A split second later, you hear a rapidly approaching squeal before a body is pushed against your back, effectively putting you in the middle of a human sandwich hug.

“Oh, Y/N! Thank god you’re here. I didn’t know how much more of Steve I could bear on my own!” Robin exclaims exasperatedly, resting her head on top of yours. You let out a belly laugh, enjoying the comfort of their presence and hugs before begging them to let you go.

“So, how was your first day back?” Steve asks as you both lean back against his car.

You roll your eyes, sighing as you shake your head.

“That’s the last thing I wanna talk about right now” When they meet you with concerned, sympathetic looks, you add “It’ll be alright though. I’m just so happy to see you guys, it‘s just what I needed.” You offer them a genuine smile.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot the familiar curls of Dustin rushing out of the front doors of the school. Eyes quickly scanning the parking lot before landing on you. You point toward your truck in the back of the parking lot.

“Black truck!” you shout, trying to hold back your laughter as you watch his eyes follow your finger before scurrying across the parking lot.

“Uh, HELLO, Henderson?!” Steve exclaims, arms thrown in the air in disbelief.

“I don’t have time for you right now, Steven!!” Dustin shrieks in response, dodging other student bodies as he races for the best seat. You can’t hold it in anymore at that, throwing your head back in laughter with Robin.

“Jeez. Guess I’m chopped liver, then.” Steve scoffs, shaking his head as he looks back over to you two.

“Oof. That’s rough, bud. How will your fragile ego ever recover?” Robin remarks, rubbing Steve’s arm in fake sympathy.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

You notice Mike and Lucas run out of the school seconds later, playing out the same actions as Henderson. Cursing when they see Dustin’s already ahead of them.

“Oh, Y/N! You should totally apply to Family Video and work with us!” Robin exclaims excitedly.

“Yeah, it’ll be the three amigos again!” Steve adds, eliciting a groan and eye roll from Robin who lightly pushes him.

“Dingus”

“While I would love nothing more, I already promised my aunt I’d work for her at the restaurant” You respond with a pout. “But, you can definitely count on me coming in to bother y’all on your shifts.”

They have a shift this afternoon so you part ways, hugging them goodbye with promises to talk later. Steve insists he wants to hear all the details about your day, when you’re ready to share of course. You smile, waving them off as you walk toward your truck. The 3 boys crowding around the passenger door, bickering with each other.

“Dustin was here first. You two in the back, no arguments!” You state simply as you unlock the doors. As everyone gets settled, you quickly flip through your cassettes, putting in Motorhead’s Overkill album. As you begin to pull out from your parking spot, your eyes briefly land on Eddie. He stands at the front of the school, leaning against a pillar as he smokes a cigarette. Gareth is talking to him, but his eyes are on you. Catching the events of the last few minutes, cozying up with Steve Harrington of all people. You notice Gareth’s eyes follow Eddie’s to yours before you quickly return your focus to getting the hell away from this school.

When you pull up to a red light, you open the small back window.

“Whose house am I dropping y’all off at?”

“Mine is fine!” Mike responds, “We’ve got some homework to work on.”

You nod before a thought pops into your head.

“Hey” you turn your head slightly to look at Dustin and the boys in the back, “How is Max doing? I didn’t see her today.”

The boys are quiet for a moment, pondering what to say, causing your eyebrows to furrow in worry.

“She’s uh- she took everything that happened at the mall… Billy… pretty hard.” Mike finally says.

“She doesn’t really hang out with us much anymore. Her and her mom moved into the trailer park actually.” Dustin adds quietly.

“She broke up with me.” Lucas says after a few moments, unable to hide the sadness in his voice.

Your eyes widen in shock for a moment before you fully turn your head back, eyes meeting Lucas.

“I’m really sorry, bud. She probably just needs some time. I’m sure you guys will be able to work things out.” You offer sympathetically, Lucas giving you a soft nod and half-smile in return.

You sigh, elbow resting on the bottom of your window frame, driving again as the light turns green. You make a mental note to figure out which trailer she’s moved into, keep an eye out for her at school and check in on her. Hearing she’s pulled away from the group and broke up with Lucas worries you, you don’t want her to have to go through this struggle alone.

Dustin breaks the silence a few moments later.

“Sooooo, what’s up with you and Eddie?” you choke out a laugh and shake your head. Real smooth, Dustin. “I mean, from the way you used to talk about him, you two seemed really close. But I picked up on that tension at lunch. Something happened, I know it.” he prods further, like this was a mystery he’s determined to insert himself in and solve.

“Nosey much, Henderson?” you say, side-eyeing him.

“I’m just saying. We’re close with you… and now Eddie is our dungeon master, we’re getting close with him… things could get sticky if there’s some tension there, which I know for a fact there is.”

“Oh is that so?” you retort, feeling relief as you pull into the boys’ neighborhood, knowing there isn’t as much time as Dustin would like to continue pushing you for information. “Dustin, I love ya. But respectfully, it’s none of your damn business, bud.” You finish, scrunching your nose at him teasingly. He puts his hands up defensively, dropping the conversation as you pull up to Mike’s house. You bid them farewell with a smile and wave as they thank you for the ride.

You might have sped on the drive back to your trailer, just a little bit. You still have a few more hours till your mom gets home, and you want nothing more than the comfort of home and the familiar green plant in your lungs after your day. You don’t spare a glance at the trailer across the street as you pull in, quickly hopping out of the truck and unlocking the front door. You groan in relief as you quickly rid yourself of your bra and jeans, slipping into your comfy house shorts. You grab a blunt you pre-rolled, a lighter, and your portable radio before walking out the back door and sitting on the back steps. You’re grateful your small backyard is obscured from the views of your neighbors by some trees and bushes as you light your blunt. You lean back against the stair railing, listening to the sounds of Fleetwood Mac as you let the calming effects of your weed start to take over. Even as your body and mind calm, a single question repeatedly pushes into your thoughts.

How am I going to fix this?

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x plussize!reader #bestfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson slow burn #eddie munson best friends to lovers

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familyvideostevie · 2 years

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𝕟𝕠 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝕤𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣

a farmer's market steve harrington x reader au part 1 [7.2k] | part 2 [8.3k] | part 3 [13.3k] | part 4 [4.6k] | au masterlist

SEPTEMBER

You haven't called home in two weeks. But then again, no one has tried to reach you, either. It took one to drive here and the other you’ve spent settling in. The main house is quiet most of the time, except when Bob turns up the radio as he cleans. If you try really hard you think you can hear the gentle hum of the hives, a soothing buzz that never ceases. Bees are like that: always working, always caring for their queen. Never unsatisfied to do so forever.

"It must be nice," you'd said to Bob when he showed you a piece of comb for the first time. The beekeepers at New-Bee's farm only wear netting on their faces, which made you only a little bit nervous but you'd pushed it down.

"What do you mean?" your new boss asked you.

"To know what your life means," you said softly. A single worker bee crawled onto your hand to explore. Her tiny legs tickled a little. "To know how you're supposed to spend it." Bob gently clapped a hand on your shoulder and smiled at you.

"I think you're going to learn a lot from the bees while you're here. And from this town. If you want to."

And right now you're wondering if you want to. If this hadn't been a huge mistake -- snatching at the vague opportunity your parents had presented after you dropped out of college. To work at and live on a bee farm in Hawkins, Indiana owned by a college friend. To help out for the last few months at the local farmer's market. To see if you can figure out what's next before the goodwill of everyone around you wears out.

It's still a little warm for September. You and Bob had been a bit red-faced unloading the beeswax candles, soaps, and jars of honey onto the wooden stand you're running. You'd reassured him you could handle selling by yourself until he came back to help you pack up when the market ends at 2 pm. The other stands are looking thinly staffed -- school starting has taken away most of the summer hires -- and you see plenty of people your age. A boy with a tangle of long hair and a black bandana around his neck is organizing mushrooms a few stalls over while laughing at something the tiny woman you know to be Joyce Byers says to him. She's got a clipboard in hand and looks very serious. A pretty girl in a Hawkins Band shirt sporting a backwards baseball cap is bickering with another boy whose back is turned to you, but you can see the work gloves tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, his arms straining against his t-shirt as he gesticulates wildly.

You sigh and yawn, checking your watch. 8:50 am. Market opens in ten minutes, and you can already see people milling around on the surrounding sidewalk. It's going to be a long day.

"Hello? Anybody home?" You startle out of your stupor to see the boy with the gloves standing in front of you. He's alarmingly pretty -- messy hair and cheeks dotted with faint freckles, chewed lips pouted as he looks at you with annoyed eyes. His baseball shirt is tucked into his jeans and the gloves are in one hand now, a hand he's settled on his hip like he's about to chastise you.

His name tag is crooked. It reads Sara's Farm: Steve.

"Hi," you say, a bit dazed. "Can I...help you?"

"Who are you? Where's Melanie?" He sounds impatient and almost rude, glancing over his shoulder as if checking for someone.

"Uh," you point to your own name tag to answer his first question, wondering if he actually cares about the second. "She's back at field hockey. So can I help you...Steve?"

He starts at the sound of his own name before his brows narrow again. He seems to have a very quick conversation with himself before he leans on your stall, his demeanor changing completely.

"Well, she put aside some candles for me. Any chance you can hand 'em over?" It's almost like he's flirting with you, but he's still glancing over his shoulder, his fingers tapping on the wood betraying his impatience. Maybe he's buying them for the girl he was talking to earlier.

"I'm really sorry," you say, bending down to check the crates of glass jars. "I don't know anything about that." You hate to disappoint this cute boy on your first meeting, even if he's not exactly charming you.

He sighs and rubs his free hand over his face. "Look," he says. "Are you sure? You're new, so maybe you just didn't see them, or maybe you're not looking in the right place--"

"Do you want to do my job for me?" you snap. It doesn't feel like he's being rude on purpose, but you're bristling. This is your stall and yes, you're new, but you know what you're doing. Steve throws up his hands and backs away a little.

"No," he mutters. "Sorry. I'll just -- come back later." He turns away without another word and you feel your mouth twist into a frown. Hopefully not everyone is as sour as this guy.

"Harrington, be nice to the new girl!" calls a rough voice. "Don't mind him, he's not usually such a sourpuss." It's the long-haired boy by the mushroom stand. He waves.

"Fuck off, Munson!" Steve sends his middle finger in that general direction and does not look at you.

"Christ," you mutter. But you can't think about it for long, as Joyce unties the thin rope at the entrance and townspeople spill into the square.

It's not a hard job, not really. And you do like talking to people -- hearing about how much they love Bob, love the candles. How they use the honey in their tea or to fend off seasonal allergies. It's nice to have people smile at you, to have their hands brush yours as you take their change. It makes you feel lighter, makes you feel needed. Most people are charmed by your newness, giving recommendations of local businesses to check out and asking you how you like Hawkins, their Midwest kindness making your cheeks ache.

The morning rush dies down a little around 11:30, so you resolve to look for those stupid candles again. Because no matter how unpleasant this Steve Harrington might be, you don't like that he thinks you're bad at your job. And he looked pretty anxious to get his hands on those candles. You search every crate for anything with his name on it until you finally find a small parcel tied with twine and labeled "SH."

"You're welcome," you mutter. A glance at the stalls around you proves fruitful as you get a glimpse of Steve for the first time since this morning. He's standing close to the mushroom stall whispering furiously to the same girl from earlier. You slide out from behind New-Bee's and trot over to where they're standing, parcel in hand.

"She couldn't find the...uh...stuff I ordered weeks ago, Robin. I mean, keeping track of stock isn't hard. I don't know where she came from anyway. Maybe she'll be gone once Bob realizes she's losing stuff like an idiot." The girl -- Robin -- has the decency to grimace when she catches sight of you. You're tempted to drop his candles on the ground right then and there, but you instead put on a smile that your mother once called "extremely unsettling."

"Steve," you say loudly, putting a hand on his shoulder. He's warm through the fabric. He turns, eyes wide. A flush spreads across his cheekbones.

"Uh--"

"I found your things." You make sure to keep your voice sticky sweet. "So sorry it took so long. I'm just so new and stupid." You shove the parcel into his hands, leaning into his space. His pupils dilate and he smells a little like sweat, a little like apples. "You don't know a thing about me," you hiss, "so I think you should go fuck yourself." You flash your teeth at him and turn on your heel. Robin bursts into laughter but you don't look back. Your fingers tingle and Steve's scent fills your nostrils. Why are you getting so worked up over a random boy?

Maybe because you're staring down the barrel of three Saturdays of farmer's markets and you've already made an enemy.

___

By 1 pm you are very hungry.

"Damn," you say to yourself. You'll have to bring a snack next time.

But then, as if by magic, a girl appears in front of the stand. She's young, probably high school-aged, with long hair pulled back in a ponytail. She sports a Sara's Farm name tag that reads Jane.

"Hi," she says. Her eye contact is intense immediately, but something about her makes you smile, even if she works with Steve.

"Hi," you echo. She holds out a brown paper bag. You raise your eyebrows but reach out to take it from her. "Thanks?"

"My dad told me to welcome you," she says. "It's just an apple and a scone we made this morning. I figured you forgot your lunch. Eddie always does." You must look confused at her name dropping, so she points to the mushroom stand first, and then to the white tents where Steve had disappeared earlier. "Eddie. And my dad's farm."

Your chest is doing something messy as you take in that this girl has brought you food. "Thank you," you say, softer this time. She beams at you.

"Was Steve mean earlier?" You open the bag and pull out a gorgeous red apple rather than answer. She huffs. "He's been so rude this week. I think it's because he doesn't know what to get Robin for her birthday." Girlfriend, maybe?

"Candles," you mutter. He must have bought the candles in advance for her. It doesn't make you like him anymore, but it makes you see why he was a little desperate. But he didn’t have to call you stupid.

"So, who are you? Why are you in Hawkins?" the girl asks. You point to your name tag for the second time today. "Oh!" she says, just realizing that she never introduced herself. "I'm Jane, but you can call me El."

"Hi, El." Her question doesn't carry any accusation like Steve's had. She’s genuinely curious with a child-like kindness that makes you want to hug her. "I don’t have a fun story or anything. I didn't want to be where I was, so I thought I'd try somewhere new." You shrug and take a bite of the apple. It's crisp and fresh.

"Maybe you can start making one now that you're here."

"Making what?" You wipe juice from your chin.

"A story."

___

You realize very quickly that you don't have much to do to fill the week. Bob insists that you take a while to settle in before helping out around New-Bee's and he gives you the keys to one of the farm pickup trucks to explore whenever you want. But most of your days during the week are spent wandering the property or taking as long as possible to buy groceries with the money you're being paid -- money that you feel a bit strange taking, considering you're living in Bob's house and only working here because he knows your parents.

But goodwill is goodwill, you suppose. By Wednesday you've made two different kinds of muffins and one loaf of banana bread with a cookbook tucked away on a shelf.

"Not that I'm complaining, but I think it might be good for you to go into town," Bob says through a mouth full of the latter. "Go for a walk in the square. Go to the library! Maybe you'll see some of the kids your age who aren't in school." You smile thinly at him as he whistles his way to the hives. He's being kinder than you deserve, like a cool uncle or something. No one else who works on the property really talks to you.

"The library," you mutter. You could do with something to read. Or at least another place to sit and waste time. You scowl at the idea that you'll run into some other "kids your age" if their name is Steve Harrington, but it's worth the risk because you're so bored.

The parking lot is empty except for some bikes in the bike rack when you arrive. The truck sputters a little when you put it in park and you hop down into a fairly nice day. The chill has finally started to set into Hawkins, the sky a mess of fluffy white clouds and enough sunshine that you shade your eyes.

The front desk is deserted when you go inside. There's a small bell on the dark wood that is begging to be pushed and your hand is midair when a voice comes from your left.

"That never does anything," it says. You turn and see the girl from the market -- Robin -- with a stack of books in her arms. One of them teeters off of the top and you surge forward without thinking to grab it so it doesn't fall. She beams at you. You want to smile back but remember that she's maybe Steve's girlfriend and probably remembers how rude you were on Saturday so you step back quickly, clutching the hardcover. History of Art, it reads.

"Sorry," Robin says. "I've been walking around with all of these trying to find someone to check them out for like, 20 minutes but this place is a ghost town." She plunks her stack on the front desk with a sound far too loud for a library but no one shows up.

"We didn't officially meet," you say, biting the bullet. Steve Harrington be damned, you will not be known as the rude new girl in town. Even to your apparent nemesis's girlfriend. "You're Robin, right? And uh, you might have seen me at the farmer's market? I'm--"

"Oh, I know your name!" She says it with such warmth that you feel the corner of your mouth lift. "How could I forget? You burned Steve better than I could ever hope to. Seeing pretty girls be mean to him is like, the best thing ever."

You can't tamp down your confusion in time and Robin clocks it. Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an "o" before she bursts into laughter. Not just a chuckle, either. She's bent over, hands on her knees, shaking.

"Sorry," you say. This is the loudest you've ever been in a library in your life. "I think I'm a little lost." She straightens and runs a hand through her bob.

"You probably thought I was his girlfriend, right? Everyone does at first." You tap your fingers on the front desk and chew on your lip, nodding.

"I mean, he was buying stuff for you when we met." When he was rude, you don't say, but Robin picks up on the way your shoulders tense because she sighs.

"Yeah, he told me all about that. And he deserved the telling off you gave him!" Robin rings the bell just once, almost absentmindedly. "I feel like I need to apologize for him but he obviously should do that himself."

You huff. "Yeah, well. It's fine if he never does. We don't need to be friends." The thought causes a pang in your chest that you don't totally understand -- maybe it's because this lovely, kind girl is friends with him and that makes you yearn for companionship, too. Maybe it's because when you saw him for the first time you couldn't look away.

"He's a good guy," Robin hedges. "I met him when I started working at Sara's in high school and he's been there like, forever. He worked the market in the summer and then Hopper -- the guy who owns it -- took him on full time after graduation and he moved onto the property. Which is a pretty sweet gig if you ask me because he doesn't have to pay rent and he gets to like, be outside all the time." She sighs, examining her nails as she keeps talking. "I don't know how much you know about the whole thing, since this is your first time here. I mean, we all know about you because Bob told us you were coming and all that. But most of us do summers at the market growing up and maybe a little after when we can. It's just part of the town, part of our lives. Everyone there has a story, you know? And for Steve, the market and Sara's are like, his things." She seems to want to say more but stops herself. "Sorry," she says, a little sheepishly. "I talk a lot."

It must be nice to have a tether like that, you think. To have a place to gather, to know that you can always come back to. Your chest aches again and you blink rapidly, trying to think of something else to talk about. "What are you here for?" you ask instead. Robin takes on your change of subject kindly.

"Gotta rent these for school." She pats the top of her stack of textbooks. "I'm in college nearby enough that I come home a lot. And I forgot to get everything on my course list in time so there aren't enough copies at school. I don't have class today and I drove back yesterday because it was my birthday and Steve threw this party for me and all that stuff, so." She shrugs like it's no big deal.

"Happy birthday," you tell her, and you mean it. She winks at you.

"Thanks for the candles," she says. You roll your eyes but huff out a laugh. "He's really not that great at gifts. Better at doing stuff, you know?" You nod. Robin cracks her knuckles and rings the bell one more time. A woman finally pops out from the hallway behind the front desk as if she's hearing it for the first time.

"Library card, Dolores," Robin says, jerking her head at you. "Then all of these for me." The woman doesn't say a word but holds her hand out for your driver's license, which you pass over.

"You were here first," you mutter.

"Yeah, but my best friend was a dick to you, so." She examines you for a long second and you want to squirm, but you meet her gaze. "You're not bad at your job," she says. "He'll get over himself, I promise. But I hope you like it here and I hope he didn't ruin my chances of becoming your friend."

"I--"

"Here," the librarian says, shoving your license and a plastic card that says Hawkins Library under your nose. You take them from her as she starts to scan Robin's books.

"No late returns this time, Ms. Buckley," she says. Robin makes a face that says 'who, me’?

"See you on Saturday!" Her words echo behind you as you give her a little wave. Maybe you could be friends with her. And Steve, if he apologizes. And stops being such an asshole. And they're not dating, so Robin wouldn't have vouched for him unless she really meant it. How else are you going to spend the next few months? You can't sit in Bob's house every day. So maybe you need to suck it up and try harder this weekend, try to be nice. But something in you doesn't want to -- something that feels like Steve sees you as an outsider. As someone who doesn't belong at his market, this place that is clearly the center of the community. And the last thing you need is someone telling you that you're not welcome here.

You're so busy thing about Steve fucking Harrington that you don't realize until you're halfway back to the farm that you didn't even check out any books.

Unloading everything yourself for your second ever Hawkins Farmer's Market is probably not a good idea. But Bob was stressed this morning because a new queen was being introduced to one of the hives so you told him you had it covered. One box of honey and candles and soap is easy. But by box five? Holy shit, your arms hurt.

You're hauling your last box to your stall when you hear a low whistle from the Sara's Farm tent. You flick an errant piece of hair out of your eyes and glare in that direction only to find Steve Harrington with his arms crossed, frowning. He's in dark blue work pants today and a white shirt with a flannel pushed up to his elbows. And a stupid baseball cap on his head, backward.

"Have you been standing there this whole time?" Your voice is more disbelief than anger. But then he shrugs.

He takes a step forward. "Damn, why didn't you ask for help?" His hands form fists on his sleeves as he looks at all of the stock you've carried by yourself. It looks like his stand is all set up already.

"Don't you know how to put on a hat properly, Harrington?" you snarl, perhaps a bit harsher than you intended. Steve takes a step back and his eyes widen before he turns on his heel without so much as a wave.

You think about saying something else but it's then that you realize your stool is missing. And something in you deflates. Sure, you could stand for the next five hours but who really wants to do that? You look around as if it'll appear by magic, as if it's hiding behind the crates you brought in. But it's nowhere to be found, so you just start to unload, setting up your display and trying not to worry a hole through your lip.

"That looks nice!" Joyce Byers has her hair pulled up in a rather frazzled ponytail but she's all smiles as she compliments your work. "You okay over here?"

You shove down your discontent and nod. Joyce has been nothing but kind so far, coming to check on you at New-Bee's more than once, and she does her best to keep the market well-run.

"Well, actually," you say, grimacing. "I think the stool I had last week has moved somewhere? Would I be able to get another?" Joyce scribbles something on the clipboard she's holding before nodding.

"Oh, of course. I'll have Jonathan find something. Stuff can get moved around when the stalls get put away, so I'm sure it's somewhere!" Movement over her shoulder catches your eye.

It's Steve. Moving your stool behind crates of apples and plopping his annoying ass onto it. You clench your fingers into fists and any goodwill you were considering after running into Robin this week totally evaporates.

Fuck him.

"You okay?" Joyce asks. You blink and smile at her.

"Just a little tired," you say. "I'll be okay standing until Jonathan has a second." Not even a single part of you wants to tell her that Steve took your stool. It would feel like defeat. In what, you're not totally sure. Joyce pats you on the arm and heads off on her rounds.

You sell a few soaps and a very large jar of honey to a strange man called Murray who asks your opinion on wiretapping. He's just left for Rick's Mushrooms when a boy with a mop of hair and kind face approaches carrying two wooden crates.

"Uh, hi," he says. "My mom said to bring you these?"

"Oh thank god," you moan, louder than you probably should. "Jonathan, right?" You step around the stall to grab them from him. He's got a name tag on that says "Byers Flowers."

"That's me. Sorry I couldn't find a stool. But if you stack these it should work." You do as he says and plop down and sigh so big that Jonathan laughs. "Who is watching the flowers if you're here?" you ask. Maybe this boy could be your friend.

"My little brother, Will." A smile spreads across his face as he keeps talking. "He's better at it than I am, really. Really good at selling people on big bouquets."

"I'll have to buy one sometime," you say, and you mean it. "Thank you for these, really." You kick at the crates with your heels.

As soon as Jonathan goes back to his job you feel your good mood slowly slip away. Someone must have it out for you because you can see Steve perfectly from here. He hasn't flipped his hat around all day and he's barely using the stool that he stole from you. You watch him flirt with old ladies and girls your age alike, watch him juggle apples for kids and recommend different kinds of tomatoes and potatoes and squash and it makes you furious.

It makes you so mad and you don't dare think about why.

A nice girl your age is admiring some soap when she notices you staring. "Do you know Steve Harrington?" she asks you.

"Uh," you say, embarrassed to be caught. "No?"

"Probably best," she sighs. "You're new in town, right?" You nod. News spreads faster in Hawkins than wildfire. "I've got nothing against him, not really. People change, right? But he was a piece of work in high school. Lots of girls, lots of broken hearts." She shrugs.

"You ever date him?" you ask. She laughs.

"No. Had a boyfriend the whole time. But he's a flirt, that's for sure. I'd be wary, I guess is what I'm saying." She picks up the soap she's eyeing. "Can I get this?"

"Sure," you say, grabbing the purchase pad. "And thanks, I think. But I don't think I'll be going anywhere near him."

"Hi, Brenda," the boy in question interrupts. The girl -- Brenda -- grabs her soap and hands you some cash before grimacing and giving Steve a wave. "Thanks," she says to you. "Hi, Steve." He rocks back and forth on his heels as she walks away, hands in his back pockets. You want to knock the hat off of his head.

"Harrington," you say, sitting back on your crates.

"On a last-name basis, are we?" You cross your arms. He nods to himself before taking a deep breath. "Okay. I wanted to apologize for last week." Your eyebrows raise but you say nothing.

"Well, Robin told me that I was a real dick, and I--"

"Oh, Robin told you," you say, slapping a hand on your thigh. "So you're here because Robin told you to apologize, not because you realized you were an asshole?" Steve looks gobsmacked that you've turned this into an argument, and you’re a little surprised yourself, but you keep going. "Save it, Steve." You say his name like it stings to have in your mouth.

"Woah," he says over you. "What is your problem?"

"What's my problem?" you grit out between your clenched teeth. "My problem is you think you own this place and you make assumptions about people before you know them." Watching him all day has made you like a pipe fit to burst. With loathing, you tell yourself. "And you stole my stool."

"I...what? Your...stool?" he sputters. He takes off the godforsaken baseball cap to run a hand through messy hair before replacing it. "I have no idea what you're talking about." His eyes harden and you realize you've actually pissed him off, maybe for the first time. The smile he sends you is sharp and you don't like it. It makes him less handsome. "Well, I'll leave you to your beeswax. Good luck wrangling those bees, bee girl. Can't be that hard if you can do it."

It's a cutting remark you don't expect. "Bee girl?" you say in disbelief. "I have a name, Steve! What is your problem?"

He starts to walk backwards. "Or should I call you honey?" He ignores your question. "Nah. That's too sweet for you." He barks a laugh at his own joke and it's a bitter thing.

When you're packing up your crates at the end of the market he brings back the stool. It slams on the pavement, startling you into turning around with a yelp. Your mouth tugs into a frown at the sight of him, his hat on the right way this time. He's got that same ice-cold smile on and you fight a shiver.

"Here you go, honey," he says, the word sounding like an insult.

"Go away," you say before you can stop yourself.

Steve just shrugs. "See? Doesn't work too well." He salutes you. You flip him the bird as he turns because what else can you do? Strangle him? If only, you think. If only.

___

The details of your life in Hawkins start to fade into the background. You've been here for over a month and have been at two farmer's markets and you've got hardly anything to show for it. A few arguments and not a single friend to speak of, though there are a few friendly people. And you're hardly friendly these days anyway, still smarting from the argument you had with Steve.

Okay, so maybe he didn't steal your stool. But he was mean to you! And... you were mean to him. What a mess. An embarrassing, juvenile mess.

It only gets worse when you start to see the Sara's Farm pickup truck everywhere. In the parking lot at the grocery store, stopped at the Arcade, just driving through town. You only actually see him once -- heading into Family Video with Robin -- but it makes your cheeks heat and your fingers twitch every time. Why does he get such a reaction out of you? How is one boy single-handedly causing you to become a recluse in your new home?

"I'm sure he's not that bad," your mom says. You've finally caught your parents at home and have spent the last twenty minutes being uncharacteristically detailed about your life. You can't help it -- you just want to talk to someone.

"He's rude," you huff. "He's rude, and everyone knows him and he won't leave me alone."

"Is he cute?" Her voice is tinny through the phone line. You scoff, and she laughs. "Yes, then. Always makes it worse." Your mother sighs. "Maybe you just need more work, baby. Ask Bob."

Bob, who continues to be so kind to you even though you do hardly anything. You know she's right. The whole purpose of this relocation to Hawkins was for you to find something you liked, something you were good at. To figure your shit out and to work hard. To get the ground under your feet again. So you take her advice and see what you can get your hands dirty with. He’s thrilled and soon you find yourself in one of the property sheds.

"It's fairly simple, but you do need to pay attention," Bob tells you. "The other beekeepers and I harvest the beeswax, so it's all ready for you." He gestures to a metal tub covered with what looks like a cheesecloth next to the stove. "I've written out the steps to take for making soaps and candles and everything is labeled."

The small workroom has a kitchen sink and a fridge. The shelves are stocked with lye, bottles of oils, and plenty of pots and jars. "It smells wonderful in here," you say. In truth, it's a little overwhelming but not unpleasant.

"You can make any scent you want, just write it down so we can label it right." Bob gives you a smile. "And be careful with the hot wax. I've burned myself tons of times."

He leaves you to it. You turn on the radio and set it low to keep yourself company. And the work is easy, Bob was right. You decide to make candles first, melting the beeswax on the stove and adding some of the oils to make it smell good. You lay out the jars with the wicks pulled tight across the tops and start to pour.

"Fuck," you hiss. A bit of the hot wax splashes onto your fingertips but you don't drop the pot, instead finishing your pours as your skin throbs. You set the empty pot back on the burner and move to the sink, peeling the now-hard wax off of your skin to reveal a reddening welt.

"Damn." You run it under cool water for a second before steeling yourself to do it again. Because you finally feel useful. And so you do another batch and another. And the next day you try soaps. You put colorful bandaids on your fingertips until your hands look like the rainbow but you get better and you stop getting wax on your skin. And by Friday night, when you and Bob are labeling everything you've made, you feel proud.

"You're going to be selling stock you made tomorrow," he says. "How does that feel?"

You smile and you mean it. "Like I'm doing something right."

___

You've finished your setup early for your third farmer's market and decide to talk a walk around the stalls. There's a jewelry table next to a stall selling loose-leaf tea across from Rick's Mushrooms. A curly head is barely visible over the stall's counter, whoever it belongs to clearly organizing something underneath. You wrinkle your nose at the array of gilled fungi, one of your least favorite foods.

Eddie pops up from his crouch and grins at you. "Hey there new girl." Not your name, but better than bee girl. "Wanna buy some 'shrooms? I'll give you an early bird discount."

"Nah," you say. "Don't really like them." You admire how he's got them all laid out like he's taken care to make the stand pretty as well as thoroughly stocked. "We haven't really met, I'm --"

Eddie says your name, eyes on your name tag. "Talk of the town!"

"Really?"

"Nah," he scoffs. "I mean, I know you're new at New-Bee's. And with Harrington's antics since you got here I'm sure everyone else does too." You scowl at the mention of Steve, who you haven't seen yet. "Oh, looks like he's gotten under your skin!"

"He's everywhere," you grumble. "And he's nice to everyone but me."

Eddie hums, tucking his hair behind his ears. "Well, we've all got good sides and bad sides, sweetheart." He seems to eye how you take the pet name, but from him it feels friendly. "Harrington is used to this place. He's known it for years, worked summers here since he was in high school. I think he's unsure how to deal with a new girl."

"That's what Robin said." You rub your arms a little against the morning chill, your bandaged fingers throbbing dully. “But I heard he was…different in school?” Eddie whistles long and low, crossing his flannel-clad arms. He’s wearing silver rings on almost every finger and he’s got dirt under his nails, you notice.

“Total douchebag. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but he started at Sara’s because he got community service hours for vandalism or something. Took the fall for some shit his asshole friends did.” Eddie shrugs. “But it did him good. Less of a douche after that. And how he’s pretty close to being a good guy.”

You drum your fingers against your thigh and wince, forgetting they’re blistered. There’s a story there and despite yourself, you want to know more. "I just don't get why he's so hot and cold with me."

"Probably bothers him that you don't like him very much." Eddie's got a sly smile that looks suspicious.

"Well, if he was less of an asshole maybe I would!" He laughs at you, not unkindly.

"Okay, sure. It'll be an interesting end to the season!" He cracks his knuckles. His next words are softer, more earnest. "You ever want to hang out, let me know. I know it’s hard to be new somewhere."

The market goes by as usual. Every time you sell a bar of soap or a candle that you made it's like the slight throb of your fingers ebbs for a moment. You tell a few mothers that you made them yourself and they fawn over you. But even so, there's a whisper in your head that you haven't seen Steve all day. Is he working today? He doesn't seem like the type to take time off.

You realize that you've spent so much time thinking about Steve Harrington that you could be considered obsessed. You've only really spoken twice as it is, and neither time has been pleasant. But there's something about him.

Maybe that something is how he sidles up to stand next to you behind the New-Bee stand with an expression so worried you don't refuse him. There's a part of you that never wants to refuse him, a part of you that is tired and lonely after three weeks without friends. You let that part take over for today with Eddie’s words top of mind, let him stand next to your stool with his hands in his pockets.

"Do you ever actually work, Steve?" you ask, his first name rolling off of your tongue in your tired tone. "Seems like you come to bother me a lot."

"Hi," he says softly. He doesn't take your bait. "Uh, what happened to your hands?" He juts his chin at the bandaged fingers in your lap. They've felt tender for the last few hours.

"If I tell you you'll just make fun of me." You huff. "Bee girl is so bad at her job she burns her fingers, or something."

"C'mon, now." His concern doesn't fade but it hardens. "I'm trying to be nice. I'm here to apologize, actually. Though I'm not sure what I'm apologizing for."

You cross your arms and study him as if you could discern his intentions from his soft yellow sweater, his belted jeans, his mussed hair. He looks so lovely you could scream. "I burned them making all of this." You gesture to the candles and soaps around you. Steve steps up to inspect them, closer than you were that first day when you cussed him out. His arm brushes yours and he gently traces the outline of a comb-shaped soap you'd made.

"These are pretty," he mutters. Your mouth falls open.

"Are you being nice to me?" He scoffs and...is he blushing?

"Robin told me to --"

"Oh, Robin told you. Again." Steve scowls at you but it's got less heat than last week.

"Fine. I thought I'd try to be nice to you." He runs a hand through his hair, eyes on your hands. "Just for today, though," he says, teasing. "Since you're injured."

Maybe it's your hands hurting or Steve's light tone or the things Eddie said this morning, but you can't find it in yourself to argue with him. "Okay," you say instead. He looks a little surprised.

"Okay," he echoes. "Uh..." Clearly, he didn't think he'd get this far. You smile a little and let him waffle for a topic of conversation. "Did you meet Jane?" he settles on.

"El? She brought me lunch the first week." You haven't spoken with her since, but she waves at you whenever she runs back and forth across the market doing whatever her dad needs -- you haven't met him, either, but you expect you will eventually.

"She told you to call her that?" Steve asks, sounding surprised.

"Yes?" Have you messed up somehow and soured this remarkably pleasant conversation already?

"Damn." He laughs a little. "She wouldn't let me call her El until I'd worked at Sara's full time for three months." You watch to see if this will make him sour, if you need to queue up a barb, but he seems incredulous rather than mad.

"Hey, listen," he says. "I wanted to ask you --"

"You don't work here!" Four teenagers have appeared in front of the stall and Steve's easy expression turns to a scowl.

"Good to know you've been paying attention, Henderson." Steve's voice isn't cruel, though it is annoyed. You wonder what he was going to ask you. "What do you want?"

"We're here to see Will but thought we'd meet the chick you won't stop talking about first," says the only girl, her fiery hair in a braid down her back. She eyes your reaction to her words as you send Steve a confused look.

"Sorry, what --" Steve doesn't look at you.

"Alright, alright, that's enough. Go bother someone else." They don't move and Steve sighs like a put-upon parent. "Fine. Meet the biggest pain in my ass: Dustin Henderson, Mike Wheeler, Max Mayfield, and Lucas Sinclair."

"Hi. Are you all...students?" They stand close like kids who've been together a long time, used to orbiting each other's space.

"Juniors," Lucas says. "We haven't been to the market in a few weeks because we're working on college applications."

"You're old," Dustin says. Steve swears softly next to you. "Do you know anything about college?"

"Um, no." You fiddle with the sleeve of your flannel. "Well, a little. I went but I dropped out.” You feel Steve turn towards you but you don't look.

"Ask Nance when she's back next time, yeah?" he says. Mike smacks his own forehead.

"Shit, I didn't think of that. My own sister!"

"Go take that big brain of yours to bother Will, okay, shitheads?" Max nods at you and tugs Lucas away by one hand, Mike's jacket sleeve in the other.

"I'm gonna...go," Steve mumbles, stepping out from behind the stall without another word. You don't realize that Dustin hasn't left until he speaks again.

"You don't look mean," he says. He crosses his arms like he's looking at a puzzle.

"Excuse me?"

"Steve is probably so obsessed with you because you're like, really pretty. But he won't admit it."

"Oh, so he's pulling my pigtails because he likes me?" you grumble but your face feels hot. "How mature of him." You don't really believe it. Dustin must be willfully misunderstanding Steve's complaining. Plus, he's a heartbreaker, right? Not someone you'd want to be involved with, no matter how nice he is to look at. No matter how good some people say he is.

"He's just a bit of an asshole sometimes," Dustin says fondly. "Don't hold it against him."

"I've heard that before," you say. "Why is he friends with a bunch of high schoolers? No offense." Dustin grins and you see that he's got almost perfectly straight teeth under braces.

"None taken. He was...kind of our babysitter? But now we're too old for that so we just hang out with him because he needs more friends."

"Wow," you say. "Harsh." But you're smiling. You don't want to find the story endearing but you do and it makes you sad more than anything. To see these kids so obviously bonded to each other and their older friend. In another life, you'd wonder if there was something going on here that made them this way, that made this town so close. But as it is, you feel the ache in your chest that's been bothering you for years -- since you went to school, since you left, since you arrived in Hawkins. The ache that wakes you every day, that feels like a bruise in your chest when you fall asleep.

The ache that disappears when you talk to Steve but returns full force as soon as he walks away.

tags: @cheerupbarry @srrybutno @97soroka @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @sunshinehollandd @katsukis1wife @imherefortea @spideyboipete @lonelywidow @louderfortheback @actual-mom-steve-harrington @steveharringtonscarkeys @pennyllanne @ducky-is-dead-inside @ih3artcry1ng @escape-in-time-x @sea040561 @manyfandomsfanvergent @blandyton @liberhoe @annaisweird

reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader au #no good at waiting

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johnnydany · 1 year

Photo

September Girl I Was Born With My Heart On My Sleeve T-Shirt

Get yours now: https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/40892871-september-girl-i-was-born-with-my-heart-on-my-slee

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teddypickerry · 9 months

Note

Hi!! if you’re still doing requests would you do a loralie gilmore x fem reader one? maybe where they bond over liking metallica (sorry chris lmao) and their friendship turns into a relationship?

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐍.

pairings — fem! reader x lorelai gilmore

word count — 876

warnings — literally just fluffy + flirty lorelai

a/n — first of all, never apologize to chris. secondly… WHAT UP MFS (saying that like i didn’t disappear off the face of the earth for a hot min) hope this tiny little blurb did you justice, i thought it was just cute. love you guys. thank you for messaging me + sending requests lately. you guys rock.

THE TOWN OF STARS HOLLOW was on the brink of Autumn, yet the sun was mistaking the New England town for a tropical paradise. Except the sun didn't accept the idea of paradise. Not with the continuous heat waves that had the town meetings cancelled and air conditioners blasting. Not a single long sleeve in sight despite it being the first day of September.

"This feels like a joke. This has to be a joke, right?" Lorelai Gilmore mutters as she walks down the side walk, fanning herself with her hand while trailing around in her heeled boots that felt like personal hell. Her best friend, Sookie, stood to her right wiping the bead of sweat from her forehead. "If it is, this is the cruelest joke ever."

The two regretted their walk from the Dragonfly Inn almost instantly and that thought only deepened as they walked the towns streets. Luke's seemed so far away and they were ready to give up.

"Watch out!" A voice called from the town square, as the two woman turned to see a ball coming in their direction. Lorelai moved out of the way and Sookie quickly followed, the ball nearly taking out their necks. A woman came jogging over and stopped with a quick glance at the two of them, grabbing the ball and tossing it into her arms. "Oh, sorry. That kid is not ready for soccer tryouts.”

Lorelai locked eyes with the woman who stood before her, wearing a pair of sneakers with shorts and a cut-up Metallica t-shirt. She looked like she somehow didn't break a sweat. Despite her athletic efforts. "Where did you come from, the freezer section?" Lorelai asks.

The unknown woman rubs her lips together before motioning over to the kid standing in the grass across the road. "My niece has shitty aim," She says with a quick smile.

"Well we can't all be... a… soccer player," Lorelai mutters as she realizes she doesn't know the name of a singular athletic star.

"Are you new around here?" Sookie asks the girl curiously as she searches her purse for her sunscreen. Y/N only nodded in response, "Just visiting my sister. She owns the boutique down the road."

"Oh yeah, I like going in there. It's like an episode of The Twilight Zone. I never know what's gonna happen in there," Lorelai chuckles as the woman only nods along. "Cool t-shirt, by the way."

"Metallica fan?" Y/N asks as she eyes her for a moment, noticing the pink tank top with a puppy on it. She found it hard to believe that this smiley woman would be fond of Kirk Hammett.

"Great band," Lorelai nods.

"They know how to play a tune or two," Y/N comments with a quick smirk making Lorelai smile. Clearly enjoying their little talk and what Y/N said next. "It's not too often I run into a pretty Metallica fan."

Lorelai smiles sweetly at those words making Sookie have to hide her smile of excitement with her hand. Before making an excuse to leave the two alone. "I'm gonna head to Luke's before I become bacon out here... nice meeting you."

Y/N gives her a nod as she walks past her, leaving Lorelai stood infront of her and only her. "Yeah, I'll meet you there."

She tossed the ball back over towards her niece who went back to kicking it around the gazebo. Lorelai's eyes still on her as she did so. Enjoying her figure in the summer clothing. "Well I should probably get back to her..."

"Yeah," Lorelai gives her a nod as she breaks out of the trance and looks over at the kid. "She's a cute kid."

"She is," Y/N nods as she gives Lorelai another look once her head turned. "Listen... I'm gonna be in town for a while."

"Oh?" The Inn owner says, obviously too awkward to mumble out something witty as per usual. Y/N nodded before licking her lips. "Yeah, I'll see you around?"

"Yep. It's Stars Hollow; we see everyone and everything. Not in a creepy way... but in a like, we're always looking. God, that sounded very opening scene of Halloween," Lorelai smiles awkwardly before chuckling away her nerves.

"Great movie," Y/N comments with a quick smile as she glanced down at the empty coffee cup Lorelai was holding. Questioning why she was on her second cup of hot coffee on a day like this... but noticing the sharpie'd name written on the side. "…Lorelai."

Lorelai furrows her eyebrows with another soft chuckle. "So you're stalker Michael Myers."

"No, I'm just a girl who can read," Y/N motions to the coffee cup with a nice smirk. Lorelai feels a grin grow at that as she looks over at the woman. "I'll see you later, Lorelai."

"You too, Y/N." Lorelai hums as she watches her head toward the street before turning to her with a confused look. Lorelai only grins as she starts walking to the coffee shop, "I can read too."

Y/N thinks for a moment as she crossed the street and walked back over to her niece. Noticing the ball by her feet. 'Property of Y/N Y/L/N'

"Well, damn."

#teddypickerry #gilmore girls #lorelai gilmore #lorelai gilmore x fem reader #lorelai gilmore x reader #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano #rory gilmore #rory gilmore x reader #luke danes #gilmore girls fanfic

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nirvanawrites111 · 9 months

Text

Wedding Secrets (Sub!Taemin x Dom!Reader)

Pairing: Sub!Taemin x Dom!Reader

Pronouns: none used, written as an afab! reader. Reader does wear a dress.

Genre: Exes to lovers, non-idol au, Taemin is a famous cherographer and you two see each other at Hoshi's wedding.

Warning: smut of course, pussy eating, dom!reader, femdom, cheating, pulling Taem's hair, and grabbing his shirt. Y/n is called mommy

Word count: 1789.. it was supposed to be only 1000 words.

BTW, this is NOT the story I teased a week ago. I'm still working on my Yandere!Taemin fic.

I'm just so in love with Taemin y'all.. but y'all already knew that.

Happy Subby!September! Thank you to everyone who is reading, writing, and reblogging. We are just getting started!

Smut below the cut! Enjoy.

The wedding reception was vibrant and full of energy. But, your heart drops when you spot him from across the room.

Your ex.

At Hoshi's wedding, of all places? You both shared a mutual surprised look, and suddenly, the upbeat song seemed a bit too loud.

Memories of old times flashed by as you caught his eye. This was going to be an interesting evening for you.

Not to mention, the woman by his side is drop-dead gorgeous, and you're sure she's a model or some influencer.

Being a choreographer, you know he makes his rounds around the entertainment industry.

You get up from the table and head to the bathroom. The last thing you want is to show any emotions and make this about you. This is about celebrating your good friend, and you don't want to draw any attention to you.

You retreat to the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. Your makeup is still perfect, your hair is flawless, and you look amazing in your outfit. You take a couple of deep breaths.

"I don't have feelings for him anymore.. so why am I tripping?"

"You don't have feelings for me.. anymore.. mommy?" Taemin voices announces into the bathroom, and you glare at him as you stare at him in the mirror.

While you thought hearing that name would feel foreign to you, instead, you miss it. A little more than you would like to admit.

You can't even hide your facial expressions, so you turn around to face him. You wrap your arms around your body, holding yourself in hopes that you can keep it together.

"No, we're over... remember?" Your echo of the truth is a reminder that he doesn't belong to you anymore.

He wanted to end things because he felt like monogamy wasn't something he wanted to continue. So, he walked away from you.

"I know that, but you haven't answered the question. Because if I'm being real with you. I'm not over you. Every person I sleep with, I have to close my eyes and imagine that it's you that I'm with."

Of course, the most infamous choreographer and dancer in your home country has been with other people since the split. That was the whole purpose, right? But it still doesn't feel good hearing it.

But, simultaneously, you feel a little emotion stir inside you, because he still isn't over you.

"Does my answer even matter?" You challenge him.

Taemin tilts his head, and studies your body language. His piercing dark brown eyes, and you know that right now, he's the bold, confident, loudmouth Taemin. In a snap of a finger, if you step into "mommy mode," he will be a whimpering mess under your control. He can get into his subspace so easily for you.

"For me, it does," he responds softly.

A surge of memories hits you – the late-night rehearsals, the impromptu dance sessions at dawn. The way you two would hook up at his dance studio. The passion between the two of you is undeniable. But you know, along with those fun memories comes the bitter ones, the fights, and the jealousy.

"Why now?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. "After all this time, after everything that happened, why bring this up now?"

You watch him take a deep breath, looking down momentarily, before returning his mesmerizing gaze to yours.

"It's simple. Everywhere I go, all I see and imagine is you. You used to choke me the way I liked, spank me, spoil me, love me, touch me. Make me submit like no one else could. I'm still in love with you, Y/n."

You want to speak, and you open your mouth to do so, but you stop yourself. You take a moment to process what he just told you.

Your relationship with him was such a whirlwind. He's never been your typical type of guy you like to date. You are quiet and reserved around people you don't know. Only a selected person gets to see your true personality shine.

But, Taemin is outspoken, flirty, and outgoing all the time. He's always the center of attention in some type of way. You never wanted to dim his light or stop his beautiful energy. But, at times, his innocence gets misinterpreted by someone dying for his attention.

Which created issues in your relationship. He has five million Instagram followers, which is more than some of the idols he choreographs for.

He's pretty much a big deal to a lot of people. But, no one has ever experienced him in the way that you have.

"Kiss me," you mumble.

You get out of your head and try to ground yourself back into your body. You know you will ruminate over this if you don't let your body take the lead.

Taemin steps closer into your presence and presses his soft, juicy lips against yours. Your eyes shut immediately, and you allow him to take the lead momentarily. He deepens the kiss and wraps his hands around your waist, and you pull him closer to your body.

You pull back from him, and you feel that familiar feeling come over you. That surge of energy allows you to take control of the situation.

"Mommy? Can I taste you?" The words slip off his tongue so quickly, and you wanted nothing more than to shove his face right into your pussy.

How did he know that you even wanted him in that way?

You removed Taemin's suit jacket and laid it on the sink, and you hiked up your dress so that you can prepare his meal for him.

How could you deny yourself the satisfaction of having the best head in your life? Even if it meant this was just a one-time hookup.

You spread your legs for Taemin, and you are already wet with excitement.

"Come on and eat it before your girlfriend comes looking for you," you taunt him.

"She doesn't care. She's just with me for her social media page."

You run your finger down your slit and feel how wet you are just from kissing Taemin. It never fails how you always react to him so easy.

Taemin smirks and kneels before you just enough to be at eye level at your core. He places his hands on your thighs for leverage as he jams his tongue inside you.

You instantly realize how much you have missed his tongue deep inside you. The feeling of his tongue warms you in a way that you can't explain. It's familiar, and it feels even better as he begins to lap at your folds.

"God, I've missed your tongue, Taem. You're still the best head I've ever had that."

You expect Taemin to respond to your comment, but he's lost himself inside of your sacred world. He mixes up his technique from sucking on your clit to giving you very slow, but passionate kisses that cause your body to jilt every time. To do it all over again in between speeds and variations.

The feeling of having Taemin eat you out like it's his last meal on Earth has your mind spinning a bit when he services you like this. You know that his words are really true.

There is no way that he eats out that IG model like this.

Taemin is way too good and knows exactly what you need when you need it.

He's so good at reading your body language since he's an empath. He knows what you want before you even say it. That's how in sync you two are.

But, you snap out of the state of euphoria, and you grab him by the hair. "Taem, now I know you heard me when I praised you... Is that how you respond to Mommy?"

"No, mommy. I'm sorry, you just taste so good. That's why I was in my own little world with your pussy. Thank you for praising me. You know I love when you do that. Can I continue to worship you?"

You instantly felt the aching of your sex when you pulled him away from you. You want to regret it, but you also know he must obey you.

"Fine, but you know I like it when you respond to me. Got it."

"Yes."

You stare into his eyes with his hair still in your hand and his beautiful plump lips covered in your juices.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes... Mommy."

"Good boy."

You release his hair and guide the back of his head back to your pussy. Not that you needed to guide him, but you like being able to control him in this way.

Taemin returns to pleasuring you like he never stops. He licks away at your pussy, and the gushy sound of his tongue and your juices mixed has you hornier than ever.

"Mommy.. I love pleasuring you."

"I can tell. You see how wet I am."

"I love it.. can I feel your juices on my fingers?"

"Yes.."

Taemin turns his hand over and sticks his thick middle finger inside you, and you clench around him. He runs his thumb over your clit in circles.

You look down at him, and you can't get over the fact that you never expected to be on a bathroom sink with your legs spread with Taemin's head in between them during your bestie's wedding.

As if on cue, Taemin runs his tongue across his top lip slowly to savor your taste.

You grab him by the shirt and pull him in for a kiss. You slip your tongue into his mouth and savor the taste of yourself. These are the wild moments you miss.

Your tongue swirls around in his mouth as you two are locked in a passionate kiss. The combination of kissing him and his fingers working their magic on you is enough to tip you over the edge.

Taemin's skillful digits continue to pump into you, and you already feel yourself squirt on his middle finger.

"Finish me off," You pull away from Taemin and push his head back down.

Taemin holds onto you as he buries his face deep into your center, and he tongue fucks you because he knows that's what you like.

You both know your body is already so sensitive, and by the way, your hips are starting to buck you. The time to release is approaching.

You moan uncontrollably as Taemin's expert tongue explores every inch of your core, intensifying the pleasure coursing through your body. The anticipation builds, and with one final flick of his tongue, you explode in a mind-shattering climax.

Taemin comes back up and licks his lips again. "I will never get enough of how you taste, Mommy."

You hop off the sink and adjust your dress. Your legs are wobbly, and Taemin helps you with your dress.

You kiss Taemin on the cheek and say, "I might let you taste me again."

#subby!september #sub!kpop #sub! idol #sub!idol x reader #kpop smut #sub!idol #dom!reader #taemin x reader #lee taemin #taemin smut #sub!shinee #sub!superm #afab!reader #dom!y/n #taemin x you #lee taemin x reader

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citrus-cactus · 9 months

Text

"Lucy's Illness" Pas de Deux: 10 September

No man knows till he experiences it, what it is to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the veins of the woman he loves…

Part 2 of the Dracula ballet I see in my head, distinct from the Michael Pink version, because this one includes Jack in all his rolled shirt-sleeves, sleep deprived glory. I’ve been wanting to draw ballet!Jack since last year, and even though I had a pretty tough time with this one, I think it turned out all right in the end.

Full view recommended, with a close-up included under the cut.

[Link to Part 1]

References used for the costuming and poses. Clipart dedicated to the public domain under CC0 modified and utilized for the corner embellishments.

#dracula daily #re:dracula #dracula #dracula (1897)#lucy westenra #john seward #jack seward #my art #ballet #dance #lucy’s illness pas de deux

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proxima-writes · 1 year

Note

ok but now I need more Joel and reader neighbour domestics??? Like him leaving her a post it note with his internet password and him helping her feed the cats and she helps him with his plants and setting up the damn skeleton and then throwing neighbourhood barbecues together 🥺🥺🥺

okay so i literally couldn't rest until i wrote these up so if my assignments are work are late, i'm blaming you.

title: in a feud with her neighbor - bonus scenes

read the main work here

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: PG-13 (mild language)

word count: 1084

summary:

Fluffy bonus scenes for "in a feud with her neighbor" as suggested by anon!

Content warnings/tags: not a standalone work, pre-outbreak, no sarah, established relationship, still pretending the 12 ft skeleton existed in 2003, joel gets his butt grabbed by a neighbor. This is pretty much just fluff.

“The internet is out again,” you whine. You’re in your bed with Joel, the man turned on his side facing away from you. He looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed.

“Good. Go to sleep,” he grumbles before burying his face back into the pillow that is now his pillow. It always smells like ocean salt and eucalyptus, while your own pillow smells like lavender and vanilla.

The sheets, however, are a beautiful combination of both.

You huff but reach over to your nightstand and turn off the lamp. You scooch in closer to him, snuggling up to his back and spooning him. You let his deep breaths lull you to sleep.

The next morning, Joel’s already left for work in the early hours of the morning, a kiss pressed to your sleep warm skin as a goodbye. When you shuffle into the bathroom to get ready, there’s a pink Post-It with familiar messy handwriting stuck to the mirror.

GetYourOwnPassword03

-Joel

________

There’s a package on your porch when you get home from work. You tear into it immediately, pulling out the new planters you bought as a surprise for Joel.

They were an Etsy find, a set of three white planters that say “WHAT THE FUCCULENT”, “LOOKIN’ SHARP”, and “DON’T BE A PRICK” and a bigger planter that reads “PLANT DADDY”. You giggle as you line them up on the counter.

Joel sees them when he comes over that evening, freshly showered and already wearing his pajama pants and your favorite threadbare shirt. He can barely stop laughing long enough to thank you.

“PLANT DADDY” sits in a place of pride by his front door, glued down to the concrete so that the cats can’t knock it over.

________

Joel is a grill master. He will spend a ridiculous amount of time at the deli, scrutinizing every package of beef while you hang onto the cart and wither away like a suffering Victorian woman.

“Joel, please, I’m begging you,” you say, “just pick the steaks.”

“Hush, sweetheart, I have a process,” he replies, not once looking away from the two packages of New York strip he holds.

“Just get both!” You beg. “Lots of steak! Great compromise!”

He glares at you. “We have to make a good impression.”

“A good impression on who? They’re our neighbors. They already like us! Half the moms in the neighborhood want to fuck you!”

Joel nearly drops the steaks. “They what?!”

You can’t breathe because you’re laughing so hard at the shocked look on Joel’s face. He sets both packages of steak in the cart before grabbing the handle from you and leaving you in tears in the deli.

Later that night, Joel finds you in the crowd and grabs your arm.

“I think Mrs. Matthews grabbed my ass,” he says.

You pull him close, slipping a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and giving him a peck on his lips.

“Told ya,” you tease.

________

Joel watches the Home Depot website like a hawk as soon as September hits. His buddy who works at the store said that online orders would open within the first couple of weeks. Finally, the button turns from gray to orange, and he places his order immediately.

When it’s delivered a few weeks later, you’re so excited that you ask Joel to set it up immediately.

“It’s not even October yet, baby. Can you wait another week?” He asks. You pout, but you agree. Only if he’ll set up both skeletons on the first day of October and not wait until the last minute like he did the year before.

Which is how he finds himself teetering on the top rung of his ladder, trying to set the skull on the frame while you watch from the ground. When he finally gets it screwed on, he’s slick with sweat and cursing up a storm.

“How’s that look?” He asks when he gets down from the ladder and stands beside you.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tugging him into a kiss.

“It’s perfect.”

________

Joel walks into your house one day, plastic bags hanging from his arms. The clinking of metal against metal announces his arrival.

“Joel? Whatcha got there?” You ask, drying your hands on the dish towel hanging from the stove, one that says “JUST ROLL WITH IT” with an image of a rolling pin beneath it.

He sets the bags on the counter. “Cat food.”

You blink at him. “Cat food? You bought cat food?”

“Yeah, you mentioned you were running low. Besides, there’s a new calico out there so you gotta start puttin’ out more. Where’s the bowls?”

He moves around the kitchen with practiced ease, grabbing a spoon and the set of plastic bowls you reserve for the neighborhood cats. It hits you at that moment.

You love Joel Miller.

Your smile is huge when he turns to look at you and he freezes like a deer caught in the headlights. You close the gap between you, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him close.

“I love you,” you murmur into his chest. His arms wrap around your shoulders and you feel the press of his lips to your head.

“I love you, too.”

________

BONUS BETTY CONTENT

Joel wakes early the next morning after his first night with you, your naked body still curled in his. He smiles down at you before gently pulling himself from your grasp, stifling his laugh at how you pout in your sleep before rolling over, snuggling into your pillow. He finds the stack of familiar pink Post-Its on your nightstand, scribbling out a note that he’s gone to pick up breakfast and coffee and would be back soon.

He puts on his now dry swim trunks and leaves the house, shutting the door quietly behind him. The neighborhood is still asleep, the sun barely cresting the horizon as he leaves your porch.

“Leavin’ so soon, Mr. Miller?” Betty’s raspy voice calls. He freezes, feeling like a teen caught sneaking out of his house.

“Good mornin’, Betty,” he says, turning slowly to face her. She’s got a knowing smirk on her face.

“What was it I said about the two of you hittin’ it off?” She asks, tapping a finger to her lips. Joel can feel his cheeks heat.

“You were right,” Joel admits.

��I know, dear. I always am. Now, could you bring me back a doughnut while you’re out? Double chocolate. With sprinkles.”

“Yes, m’am.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller fluff #established relationship #idiots in love

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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 1 year

Text

Blood

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Joel comes home to the smell of blood.

Warnings: PLEASE READ angst without a happy ending, death of an infant, death of a child, main character death, loss of a child (stillbirth), loss of a partner

A/N: Please read the warnings above. If any of them feel even remotely uncomfortable for you, please do not read this fic.

I don't own photos, dividers or characters.

Over the past twenty years, Joel’s become familiar with blood in ways he’s never wanted.

He’s known it dripping from his daughter, himself, Tommy.

One time he tried to list off all the people he’d seen bleed, whether or not he knew their names.

It smells sickly and sweet. He thinks the smell is the heat of life as it swirls up and out of the wound and into the air.

He never knew how warm a human being truly was, until that early September night, Sarah panting in his arms.

It had been an abnormally hot day for the month, the relentless Texas summer still lingering in the air, like a sun-warmed sidewalk, autumn still not fully committed to its task yet. He had been so hot all day, and through the night, as he screamed and ran and ran and screamed.

There was a faint trickle of sweat going down his back, his shirt sticking to his skin.

But when his daughter gripped at him, when he pressed his hands against her stomach and pressed down down, the blood had seeped through. It was hot, uncomfortably so. It ran down his wrists and made his fingers slippery, stained his arm, stuck his fine hairs to his skin till the blood crusted over into brown.

It burned him wherever Sarah touched him, red handprints imprinted onto his skin that he punched Tommy over when he suggested that maybe he find something to wash them off.

Joel didn’t like blood. Didn’t like it even when it meant his survival, that his heavy boulder of a life would live to see another roll up and down the mountain.

Even in Jackson, he hated it.

The sight of it sat in his stomach like hemlock, the smell filled his lungs like tar.

When Joel saw blood, blood poured from his eyes.

So, when Joel comes home from patrol, the house he’s worked long and hard to call home, has made sure to keep the slither of blood away from, he has to stumble to the kitchen table to catch his breath.

The sweet smell hangs in the air like mustard gas. He sees the yellow fog of it twist and turn each corner and hang heavy at his ankles, grave-like and sombre.

He wants to throw up.

He follows the fog, follows the smell. The nausea rises and falls inside him like the tide, relentless and without fail. The impassivity of the ocean terrifying. The threat of eternity.

When Joel opens the door to the bedroom he shares with you, the bedroom he’s worked long and hard at to call his, the bedroom he’s rearranged for you dozens and dozens of times over the past eight months as your nesting had gotten stronger until his back gave out, he stumbles and holds onto the doorframe to catch his breath and finds it doesn’t come to him.

You’d traded a lot for those floral sheets. Had worked long hours to be able to afford them, and cooked as hearty a meal as you could when you finally got your hands on them.

There’s so much blood that it’s turned the bedding and your dearly-loved sheets nearly black. You’re holding something grey and covered in blood to your chest, rocking it gently, sweat stuck to your forehead.

You seem the ghost of the woman he knew. The one who got up and sang off-key without any music for a full house at the Tipsy Bison and stole Joel’s heart in one fell swoop of an eagle’s wing, your voice sounding like wind chimes. There’s a brush of blood on your forehead, the roots of fingers following a palm.

Your eyes are hazy and delirious but still they light up when they see him, “Hi, Joel.”

He walks into the room, he hears himself talking to you but doesn’t realise when he managed to do that. He sits down on the bed and it’s warm and wet. A few seconds later, he feels the blood crawl into his jeans.

You mumble something and with a butterfly of a smile you hold out your arms to him. Joel finds himself stroking the face of his daughter, running his hand down the bridge of her nose, smaller than his pointer finger.

One of your breasts is out of your shirt, milk runs from it and pools down into an oasis of white. There’s a dribble of it against his daughter’s mouth.

You’re saying something again, “...eager to see you, Joel, to see her father.”

Joel doesn’t know where you’ve found the strength to be talking like this. When he touches your forehead, you’re burning. He remembers that one night when he took you out dancing. Where he watched you move like a sirocco from the bar counter and got you drinks to cool off. He remembers pressing his lips against your hot skin, right below your hairline, he remembers your arm, strong and steady as it wrapped around his waist.

It had been a long time since Joel had done anything of the like in public like that. When he pulled away he found his heart beating out of his chest without control. He was scared you would be able to see it moving against his shirt. A rapid rise and fall like the beat of a rabbit’s foot.

“Isn’t she pretty, Joel?”

He swallows and nods, says that she is because it’s the truth. The scrunched up, wrinkled face, colourless and lifeless, is beautiful because she was inside you for eight months and Joel spent those nights he spent with you talking to his daughter inside your womb. He hasn’t seen anything more pretty.

“Lovely,” his voice is hoarse, and he hates how his tongue is cottony. He wants to say more and he only repeats himself, “Lovely.”

You shift and groan but keep moving until you place your child in his arms. Your hand remains on her head, brushing your thumb back and forth, “Aren’t you happy?”

“Why didn't you call for someone?”

“I love her so much, I didn’t think it possible to love someone like this…” you let out a tired sigh and Joel feels the faint heated brush of a bit of your life pass against his neck. You lay down against your pillow. “She’s not latching…”

Something inside him hallows out. Joel feels wind churn in every corner of his chest, braiding in and out between his ribs. His bones feel dry, the insides of them empty of any marrow. They hit against one another as the bleeding thing inside him continues to beat.

“I’ll go get Maria-”

He wonders why he didn’t think of this sooner, of getting help, why he didn’t run straight out the door when he smelt blood in his house, when he saw you in bed, more of your blood outside of you than in.

“No,” an urgency hangs against your voice like an anchor. You reach out to him, “Stay with us for now.”

Joel’s jeans are dipped in your blood, he feels it press mercilessly against his skin.

He looks down at the baby in his arms, viciously silent, heartlessly still.

Sarah had a set of lungs on her when she was born. Had screamed so loud it filled the room.

“Alright.”

When Joel dips his head to kiss your hairline, you smell like blood. One time, in the low light of your fireplace, before you’d moved in with him, you’d pressed your head against his neck and murmured that you used to use Dior perfume, that it was the only luxury you permitted yourself before the world set itself on fire.

After he’d have sex with you, you smelt like sweat and Joel and skin. Heated and vibrant with life, Joel would press his front teeth into your upper arm until you pressed him away and called him an animal.

When you came back from your shifts in the garden, you smelt like earth. Something rich and dark. Some mysterious force of nature clinging against your clothes and body, making you glow.

He wonders if he would have fallen in love with you back when you sprayed yourself with designer perfume. If you would have let him into your life enough to have him put a piece of himself inside you to grow. Selfishly.

His daughter lays heavy in his arms.

He always noticed that, once the haze of the blood had cleared. When the blood had cooled down and the life had left its cells empty and deflated.

How weighted Sarah was, when she wasn’t carrying herself and entirely dependent on his arms and strength.

“Joel?”

Nausea crawls up his throat like a slug, and he swallows it down. “Hm?”

“Aren’t you happy?” Your voice is meek and small. He feels he could cup it in the palm of his hand and have room to spare.

“Are you?” A childish smile grows on your face, your eyes glazed over, slightly out of focus. He supposes your happiness is his, and he nods before you respond, “I am. Very much.”

You’ve made him a father again, after all.

He leans down and kisses your baby. She’s still warm to the touch. He wonders how long ago this had happened to you.

He wants to be mad at you for not getting help, for not calling for Ellie or him, or Tommy or Maria or any person in this black hole of a settlement.

If he said he was happy though, he supposes he’s happy.

“I’m tired, Joel.”

“You’ve good right to be.”

If he closes his eyes, he’ll feel the gentle movements of his daughter against his chest.

“I think I might sleep.”

Your lips have lost colour. There’s a dull certainty inside your voice now.

“You do that, baby.”

There’s so much blood in his jeans he fears he won’t be able to wash them out, that he’ll have to throw them out along with the mattress and the bedding.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here.

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butterflyknifegirl · 17 days

Text

ᖭ༏ᖫ Knives and Pens ᖭ༏ᖫ {Episode 3}

Ellie x Female Reader MDI 18+ Word count: 4803

↢ PREVIOUS EP // NEXT EP ↣

Aria Rose is a trained surgeon from Orion, Alberta coming to Jackson. Originally from Buffalo QZ in New York, you fled after the death of your mother, an ex Firefly. You meet Ellie Williams when arriving in Wyoming. Hope is a fickle thing and the past will come back to haunt everyone.

A.N: My first fic and so I'm taking my time with writing and enjoying the characters. This takes place in the TLOU2 or a little prior to when the game takes place. Slight changes to the story will happen. Rated 18+ as sex and sexual themes are mentioned. Slow burn. Smut.

Any songs used in this story were released prior to Breakout Day; September 26th, 2013.

Warnings for this episode: angst, smut, smoking da reefer, cursing, nudity, lesbian sexualism/erotica, mentions of slight sexual trauma.

Read on Wattpad

>>>>>>> Help Palestine <<<<<<<

This episode took longer to write due to some like updates. Thanks for being patient and ENJOY <3

Episode 3 : Waiting Pains

+++++++

Song: Greedy - Artist: Inara George - Released: 2005

+++++++

You slipped under the surface of the water and laid on the tub floor. Maria and Tommy had started on dinner and had a country album playing on the record player in their living room. Most of the noises were drowned out by the water.

“Maybe I’m both,” Ellie’s voice makes an appearance in your thoughts, but like the music, it’s muffled. Your heartbeat plays clear. You think to yourself that this is what it’s like for a baby in utero; surrounded by familiar distant sounds and voices, all playing to the beat of your own and your mother’s heartbeat. You feel yourself needing to take a breath but you hold yourself down and push yourself further into your thoughts.

“But, what if it mutated?” Your mother’s distant voice plays again from last night’s dream. “The host would still be infected,” was your response. Your mother’s voice starts to fade farther away, “But what if they were still themselves, still human?” Your heart continues to play its song and you feel your need to breathe rise.

“Maybe I’m both.”

You push yourself up, finally taking in a gulp of air.

☆

The sun had set behind the mountains. The navy sky was turning black and you lit the numerous candles that were throughout your room. You’ve unpacked your clothes, medical text books and journals, and the framed photo of you and your mother was placed on your vanity surrounded by a few lit candles. Your vanity had become a small shrine and you felt it fitting to place your mother’s Firefly tag on the frame.

Dinner was ready and Maria had offered you to eat, but you opted to wait with her and Tommy until the others showed up. “I try to cook for the family at least once a week,” Maria sat on the couch, Tommy was on the recliner and almost passed out. You sat on the other sofa diagonal from Maria. “I like to make sure they’re eating, more so Ellie than Joel.”

“Does she not eat?”

“Well she eats, just not enough, and Joel, well, he’s alone so he makes himself small meals. They don’t live together technically, Ellie lives in the garage on the property. Anyways, they’re family and I do what I can.” Maria was a woman to be admired. She took care of her family and on top of that, Jackson.

Tommy’s light snoring was interrupted by a knock on the door. You sat lounging on the couch and Maria got up to get the door. “Finally! Horde give you any trouble?”

Joel steps in with a heavy foot, “There was eight of us, so not so bad,” he gives Maria a hug.

“Well make your way to the dining room I’ll serve you,” Maria held the door open and you heard lighter footsteps come in. “And you, how many did you get?”

“Like 18 on my own. Five more than Jesse,” Ellie finally walks in wearing her black t-shirt, with her hair up in a low bun, a single loose strand of hair by her face. She came in looking back at Maria, but her eyes rested on you. Your adrenaline rushed in as her gaze fell on you and it made you nervous. She turns to give Maria a hug.

Tommy’s recliner clinks shut and he gets up, “Well I’ll play some of a record while we eat,” and he starts the record over, gives his hugs, and heads to the dining room with Maria and Joel.

You get up to join the others and Ellie smiles at you still standing by the entryway.

“Back so soon?” you tease. You couldn’t help but be playful with Ellie, she seemed to glow at your banter and you noticed that for the times that she was with you, the echoes from the past faltered, and you stood on even ground, it seemed, with her. Ellie rolls her eyes playfully and they land down on you again as you approach.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been waiting.” You were taken aback a bit by her sudden boldness, but she smirked more with a sense of cheekiness, as if she wanted to see how you would react. You obviously didn’t want to lose this game and so you tried to conceal a blush.

“Yeah to eat, it took you long enough. Do you usually keep a girl waiting?” you smile back.

“I’d say this would be the first.”

“Oh really?” you purred.

“I don’t like stringing people along,” she says hesitantly, still trying to keep her confidence up. She looks away smiling and gives an airy life.

You step closer to catch her eye, “I’m not known to wait either, but if it’s worth it, I will.” Your eyes explore her face, admiring her freckles and her cheeks flush lightly.

“So.. you think it’s worth it?” her voice was quieter, eyes soft, as she watched you for your response.

Your heart started to ache. This woman has single handedly melted your cold, distant exterior. The women in Orion that you were with all had eventually used you as the village gay mistress. The few that laid with you eventually left you empty and with nothing to show for it. They all were ashamed of being with you, and you were kept as a dirty secret. The worst part was, you let them. You didn’t know why you did it, but you let them either way.

But Ellie was different. She was open to you about her interest in you, she was even protective of you. You saw that she was affecting you the same way you were affecting her. A light, a pin of hope, pierced in your chest.

Ellie saw no hesitation in your face. Your smile, paired with your bright eyes, gave her all the confidence in the world and her heart pounded, a desperate steady rhythm. All she needed was to hear you say it, but maybe not right now, maybe not tonight, and for some reason, she was almost okay with that. You two were solid, and considering her heart ached with having to watch someone she had loved from the sidelines for so long, she felt like she was finally coming up for air. So she licks her lips and gives you a big grin.

“Dinner’s served!” Maria calls from the dining room.

☆

Dinner had played out with Maria sitting at the head of the table, talking about the growing population of Jackson as more women are becoming pregnant and choosing to go through with the pregnancy. You were expected to have your hands full with not only this but teaching as well. When it came to doing surgeries, you did it all.

“Well, we want you to have a life too. Can’t be all work no play,” Tommy winks at you. He’s seated across from you and Ellie, on Maria’s right, Ellie on her left.

“There’s a lot of young people your age here,” Joel looks up from eating, he sits across from you, next to Tommy. “Jesse is a good kid.”

“Yeup, and there’s Dina, and that tattoo artist, Cat,” Tommy adds. “Well Ellie can show you ‘round, get you acquainted, when you have some free time, if there’s such a thing.”

You smiled and looked over at Ellie who sat beside you quietly eating.

☆

The night was ending and unfortunately for Ellie, she had to be up early for morning patrol. She waited until Joel headed out first so she wouldn’t have to walk with him home. She lingered behind helping Maria and you clean up.

“I can wash the rest up, why don’t you head on home Ellie,” Maria offers. Despite the calm night, Ellie’s mind was racing. Between Joel, you, Di-

“Hey I’ll walk you out,” you had dried a dish and put it away.

“Yeah okay.”

You walk Ellie to the porch. The moon was full and there was a cool breeze. “This Thursday, pick me up by the hospital,” you stand by the stairs holding onto the porch pillar.

“So am I courting you now?” she smirks.

You chuckle, “Who says that?”

“I don’t know, people,” she shrugs and smiles.

“Hmm, well,” you take her right hand and observe it with both of yours. You look at her palm and slide your fingers to the tips of her. You feel the callouses, “You play guitar?” Ellie nods, not really sure how to respond. You flip her hand over and trace her long slender fingers up to the dipping leaves of the fern on her wrist. The delicate touch had caused chills to run down her arm. She let out an airy gasp and you pulled her arm around your waist. Both of her hands held your lower back. Your hands found their way to her neck where you gently ran your fingers down. Ellie had closed her eyes and blushed bashfully. She had gotten lost in your touch. She felt another gasp building up, but she opted to hold her breath. Your palm finds her cheek and she leaned into your touch.

“I think I’m bad at waiting,” you whisper.

Ellie’s eyes shoot open. The moonlight hits your bright eyes and casts a shine on your lips. She swallows a desperate gulp back. The sweet torture of your touch put her in a desperate state of mind. Her body was warming up and her hands slid lower down your back, gently grabbing hold of your bottom, kneading you through your jeans.

“Me too,” she leans closer. Your eyebrows knit together, you look into her eyes, then to her lips, and back again.

“Ellie-,” Ellie dives into the kiss. She cups your ass and raises you up. You feel Ellie’s tongue enter your mouth, needy and desperate. She explores your mouth and you wrap your arms around her neck. It was intoxicating. You were running out of breath but you didn’t want to break it. You were choking on her kiss. Ellie finally pulls away, breathing into your mouth, she looks at you with dark eyes. You breathe hard and she rolls her eyes, closing them, and resting her forehead on yours. Your hands go down to the flat of her chest and you feel her heart pounding.

“So Thursday?” she breathes out.

“Yeah, after my shift,” you try to smile but a wave of melancholy spreads over your heart.

She separates and stands tall over you, breathing hard, smiling a side smirk with proud squinted eyes, like she had just trudged up a mountain side and was now looking at the valley below leading into the horizon.

She takes your hand and rubs her thumb over your knuckles. “I’ll see you then,” she presses her lips on your cheek and swiftly turns and walks off the porch and down the street, not turning back.

☆

Four Days Later

☆

Next to the medic tents by the stables was a small building used for operating, delivering, and storing medicine. You stood by the main nursing station in the large waiting area in good view of the front door, looking down at a clipboard. You wore your long hair in a low ponytail with some hair framing your face. Your white doctor coat covered down past your bottom. You wore a fitted black t-shirt with a v-line and gray, black shorts with your black combat boots with red laces. The past couple days have been nothing but hands-on teaching to the twenty of Jackson’s doctors. Your day was finally ending and you couldn’t wait to head out.

“Hey there Aria,” you turn around to see a familiar face.

“Joel!” you smile and you two exchange a hug. “Just come back from patrol? What can I do for you?” In a bizarre way, you felt close to Joel.

He gave a small smile and cleared his throat, “Yeah I’m here to pick up.”

You go over to behind the nursing station and find a chart with his name on it:

Joel Miller …… Sleep Tea …… 1 bag

You go and retrieve the bag with the dried herbs and give it to him.

“Thanks.. I don’t usually need anything, but recently it’s been a little difficult,” he takes the bag.

“I usually take chamomile tea before bed, it’s the only thing that can relax me after a day of sticking my hand in people,” you smile hoping to get him to laugh.

“Heh, well I guess that’ll do it.”

You look over across the large room to see Ellie coming in the double doors. Your eyes stay on her and a smile is plastered on your face. Joel notices and he looks over to see what you were looking at. “I’ll be back,” you say, not taking your eyes off her, “excuse me.” You quickly make your way to the locker room and take off your doctor coat and retrieve your backpack. When you come back out Joel is gone and Ellie stands by the nursing station with her brown t-shirt with a blue short sleeve button up on top. Her hair was half up.

Ellie finally sees you come over and she perks up. “Hey, you finally showed up,” you go over and give her a hug.

She returns the hug, “Well I’m here, aren't I?” she smiles.

You two start walking over to Ellie’s place. It was about 5:30 and it was golden hour. “I have to make my way out to the town again soon, there's a music store where I get my guitar strings,” Ellie walks side by side with you.

“Hey remember that library where the horde was? I would like to check it out if I could.”

“You can talk to Maria to schedule a patrol, tell her to put me on it.”

“Okay I will.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Medical texts mainly.”

Ellie pretends to yawn, “Wow sounds like fun,” she teases.

“Hey!” You punch her arm.

“Oh I’m sorry, was that supposed to hurt?”

“Oh I’ll make it hurt.”

“Hey wha-!”

You push her against the wall of the cemetery and tiptoe up to bite her on her neck.

“Ohh,” Ellie enjoys the bite.

You let her neck go to try and not leave a mark. You lean up and take her lips into yours. “I’ve missed you,” you say.

Ellie looks down at you and with a smile and a shake of her head, she kisses you again. “C’mon,” she takes your hand and leads you the rest of the way.

☆

Ellie turns on her fairy lights and you look around the room. You were taken aback at how good it smelled- her pine scent sitting in the air.

Ellie starts playing some old country music on her cassette radio and you two sit on her couch. She pulls out a joint from a small box under her coffee table. “I rolled it yesterday, you still wanna try?” she asks. You nod. You watch her pull out a lighter and lights it up. She inhales and exhales the smoke smoothly. She smiles and passes it to you. You smile to yourself as you mentally prepare, then you bring it to your lips and inhale. You hold it in a bit then exhale, coughing at the end.

“Shit,” you pass it to her.

“Not too bad, now I gotta show you how to ride a horse,” she chuckles. Ellie blows smoke and watches you look around her room, taking in all the details. From the paint and the guitar, you knew Ellie was an artist. Her callouses showed her dedication in practicing her craft. You too had gifted hands, but in a different way.

“Can I show you something?” You reach for your backpack and take out a burgundy photo album. Ellie’s eyes light up. “When I’m not working, I take pictures.” You scoot over and open the album. Photos of you in Orion when you were 17, you had shorter hair. Some of them you are posing with babies and toddlers you’ve helped deliver. You flip pages and Hannah starts to make an appearance.

“Who is that?” Ellie points to another girl posing with her arms around Hannah.

“One of Hannah’s exes,” you smile, “they were secretly dating for a few months.”

“And him?” Ellie points to a more recent photo of Hannah holding onto a tall blonde guy smiling at the camera.

“Stephan Dubois,” you pause, “Sophie’s father. He died on patrol.” You recall Hannah watching the band of horses leave with men to find Stephan and his troupe. Hannah had just found out she was pregnant.

“Damn..”

Ellie sees photos of Orion, you in the hospital teaching, and some of you in the mirror in your old room. “These are really good,” she flips through the pages and takes a hit. She passes the joint and flips the page to some more interesting photos. “Ohh, what is this?” You laid soaking in a tub, hair dripping wet, dark eye makeup, red lips, and a cigarette near your lips. You gave the camera a seductive smolder with parted lips, the water concealing your body.

You blew out smoke, “I was recreating a photo I found in a magazine,” you leaned back letting the high finally kick in.

Ellie finished the album and placed it on the table, “Are you gonna take more photos like that for me?” She licks her dry lips and cheeses a grin.

“Oh, I definitely can and you can keep in your joint box,” you giggle.

“Or, I’ll keep it on me.”

“Yeah?”

She shrugs, “Yeah, I mean that’s what people do right?” she flashes her eyebrows.

You two look at each other, sharing the joint.

“So,” you start, feeling pretty confident all of a sudden.

“So,” Ellie repeats.

“How obvious did I make it?”

Ellie looks up at the ceiling like she had her thinking cap on, pretending to not know what you meant.

“When we first met,” you continued leaning forward, “how obvious did I make it?” you started to purr again.

“You mean when I had to check if you were clean, and you were staring at my lips?”

You blush at your own ridiculousness, “Pretty obvious huh?”

“Oh yeah, I’d say so.. But it wasn’t one sided,” she gives a serious look. You look at her and take a hit, getting close and sitting in between her legs, you exhale into her mouth.

Ellie closes her eyes. She slips into her mind and she stands on the cold, gray moon watching the earth turn. The familiar feeling of loneliness washes over her. “I would take a one way ticket too,” Ellie says quietly. You recall when you first met and she asked if you’ve ever gone to the moon. She holds your waist and goes to your ear, “..if I was going with you.”

☆

“How’s Aria coming ‘round?” Joel sits in the back patio at Maria’s and Tommy’s.

“Great. Morale at the hospital is up. I’m considering including her in our monthly town meetings,” Maria takes a sip of tea from her mug.

“Is that right?” Joel stairs at the yard.

“Why? What’s on your mind?” Maria raises concern.

“She and Ellie, well, they’ve gotten close.”

“In what way?”

“Well, Ellie came by the hospital today to pick her up.”

Maria smiles to ease Joel’s concern, “So she’s hanging out with new people, a doctor no less, how is that gonna start problems?”

Joel grumbles quietly to himself. “She doesn’t talk to me. All ‘er friends I know.”

“I know you don’t think you’re there for her, but you are. Sometimes people need time to figure things out, the same goes for Ellie. She’ll come back to you Joel, once she figures out how she wants her life to play out, she’ll come along. In the meantime, be there for her, from afar.”

Joel looks at her with pained eyes, smiles, and nods.

☆

Ellie lays over you on her bed, lips locked. Her tongue, eager to make its way back into your mouth. Her body rocks as she kisses you hungrily and her free hand slides under your top. You quiver at her sudden touch.

She stops and looks down at her hand, still underneath your top, resting on your abdomen, “Is this okay?” she whispers looking back at you.

“Yeah, it just tickled a little,” you smile.

“Hmm,” Ellie exhales a soft hum. She watches her hand slide up and cup your breast. Your lips part and she comes back down to kiss you. She messages your breast as she takes the time to kiss you deeply. She pulls down your bra and plays with your nipple between her fingers. You moan into her mouth and your hips begin to slowly buck and squirm. She hums again at your reaction. “Let me take this off babe,” and she proceeds to remove your top and bra in one pull. You lay bare back and you pull up at her top as well, then her bra.

“Ellie..” you couldn’t help but admire her. You lifted your head up and bit down on her neck again, sucking the soft flesh, your hands massage her breast. She gasps and groans at this. She starts to unbutton your jeans, sliding them down a bit with your panties. You detach and look up at Ellie.

“Lay down babe,” she tells you and you do. Ellie looks down and her hand grazes over your sensitive cunt. You were already so wet. Her fingers slide up and down your folds, “Damn babe, is that all for me?” She gives a long lick up your neck to your ear. You involuntarily whimper.

“Yes,” you whisper. Ellie’s touch was like heaven and you were delirious. Ellie starts rubbing your puffy clit. Her bicep moving with every rub, moving slowly, then faster. You feel her breath on your neck. She kept a rhythm, but you wanted more. “Ellie.. Mm.. more babe please!” you moan.

Ellie shoots up to look at you- your face contorted in pleasure. “Yeah?” she asks huskily.

You look into her eyes huffing in air, “Yes please Ellie, I want you.”

Ellie didn’t waste any time taking your pants off. She wanted to love you, to pour herself into you. You gave her a purpose, you made her feel wanted, needed, and desperate.

Ellie lowers herself down to your trimmed cunt. She watches you spread your legs for her. “Fuck Aria,” she kisses the top. She starts to suck on your clit and she watches you close your eyes moan. You feel Ellie slide her long slender fingers into you and you whimper again.

You grip the sheets beneath you, “Fuck right there Ellie!” Ellie keeps her fingers inside fucking your g spot hard and fast. You feel chills run down your legs as your orgasm approaches. “I’m gonna cum, Ellie, fuck you’re making me cum!” Ellie hums on your clit pushing you closer. It finally hits, and you let out your orgasmic moan, bucking your hips and clenching around her fingers. Ellie helps you ride it out as she continues to finger you. She comes up to kiss you, still keeping her fingers inside. You taste your arousal.

“Was it okay?” Ellie kisses your flushed cheek.

You chuckle to yourself, “Are you kidding?” You two laugh and she slides her fingers out and lays beside you. You look down at her jeans, “What about you?”

“Soon,” you turn to your side and lay on top of her, “we're not done, just, taking a break. I wanna make sure you can go a couple more rounds,” she smiles.

“A couple more rounds?” you repeat, feeling your legs still weak from your orgasm, but even your own body betrays you, after looking down at her and cupping her breast, your arousal starts up again. “I want to taste you.”

“Yeah, I want that too,” she licks her wet lips.

☆

+++++++

Song: What the Water Gave Me - Artist: Florence and the Machine - Released: 2011

+++++++

☆

After Joel left, Maria went ahead to change out the linens in the house. You left your door ajar, and she knocked anyway. She realized you were still out after your shift, which she thought was great, she’d hoped you’d find time to have fun and didn’t want you to get burnt out. She collected your towel and bed sheets into her basket. She looked over at the many textbooks piling your desk and she was curious to look at them.

A lot of texts on being a midwife, doula, delivering a child, neonatal physiology. Then there were others about diseases that happen with age, medical herbs, repairing broken bones, heart surgery, brain surgery. These were some of the books that were displayed on your desk. Maria was amazed at your wide range of knowledge. When putting the texts back in order on your desk, a paper fell out of your ‘Neurology & Neurological Surgery’ text. It was a copy of an x-ray of a human skull that was infected with cordyceps. She flips the page over to see your handwritten notes:

Can it mutate? Can host still be infected and remain human? Immunity?

Maria’s stomach drops. She returns the sheet to the text and puts everything back. She turns to leave and notices the picture on your vanity with an all too familiar looking pendant. She reads the name and turns it over to confirm.

“Yesenia Rose.”

ᖭ༏ᖫ

☆

“Fuck right there,” Ellie has her fingers gripping your hair, holding your head down as you eat her out. “Yeah babe- trying to make me cum?” she moans, ending on a whine. She starts to grind in your mouth and all you can do is desperately hum “mhm” over and over. “Auh.. fuck babe.. you fuck me so good,” she watches you with half lidded eyes and furrowed brows. Her hair sticking to her wet forehead. Her mouth open, letting out gasps and silent whimpers. “Mhm right there.. Mmmh.. fuck yeah I’m cumming baby. Fuck! Auhh yeah take it!” Her orgasm falls on her hard, as she talks you through it and rides your face. You taste her orgasm and lap it all up.

Ellie falls back onto the bed breathing heavily and lightly sweating. “Come here,” she reaches out a hand for you and you lay beside her. She wraps both of you in a thin blanket and pulls you into her. It had been a couple rounds as she promised, and you were ready to close your eyes and sleep. Despite being tired you felt an over looming feeling caving in on you. Like you were going to depend, attach, and become addicted to Ellie. In a nonmedical term; fall for her, which is not your style, and yet, you let yourself fall- fast and head first.

Ellie watches your resting face. She had never had it this good with Cat. You two understood each other without having to say anything, and you fulfilled her deepest cravings. She knew you were special and wanted to attach herself to you in every way possible.

You open your eyes to catch her green ones looking back at you. She brushes some hair behind your ear. You smile, and it must have been contagious because she smiled back.

☆

END OF EPISODE 3

CLOSING CREDITS

Ellie Photo Credits

Cover: Themodsofus - https://twitter.com/themodsofus?lang=en

Closing: Rahaf on pinterest - https://pin.it/4hmG4tgQu

All covers and photos were created on Canva.com

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