#And there's like a fly or something on the jukebox | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astralnymphh · 4 months ago

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The Sweeter the Wheat

# pair: post-seattle!jackson!ellie x reader

## summary: There is no better birthday gift than loving her.

### reader discretion is advised: romance angst, fluff, bit suggestive towards the end, alcohol consumption, jesse is alive (he thought ahead this time), loser!ellie, sometimes!awkward!ellie, sometimes!cheekyandflirty!ellie, reader is sickenly envious and a bit nosy, but aware, ravenous and tipsy makeouts, sappy shit. #### a/n; listened to "to all of you" by syd matters + "cardigan" by taylor swift while writing parts of it.. got a love/hate relationship with this fic but it slaps i guess

SPRING SUN

“At least we got back before her birthday. Psh—‘magine that sweet tooth havin’ to commemorate her twentieth with nuts and jerky.”

Jackson tholes the bright spring against countless heavy hearts, numb from the death groans of winter. Under the melted snow, came old meadows, but nobody returned to comb through them. Only to pluck them bare of flora for a sole reason—a sole person—and not in the name of beauty.

Some meadows were stabbed through. Pierced into, made into a final home for the dearly departed he.

Time slipped slowly.

“Huh?”

Jesse sits at the tail of the bar, mumbling somethings that fly right past your ears. The diner is packed and the jukebox softly plays, but that of joy and conversation rules, so all nearby speech that is spat has become hodgepodge, herding your brain to run where the world is quiet. Given that, and the subtle significance in the day around you, you feel less than yourself. Immaterial.

There's a rightful wager that you didn't hear Jesse at all. Something about birthdays, maybe.

You pull yourself from the stars with a head-shake, having to retire the tiny notepad in your clutch. “Sorry, I completely tripped out just then. Why are we talking about birthdays—whose birthday are we.. talking about?”

Jesse appeared to be in doubt that your star-scaping moments were over; his features contorting more and more into disbelief as you gave him that barely curious squint. Poor him for having to be offended for somebody else.

A special somebody else at that!

His drawl comes in handy, “Come on, man. Four years strong and now you wanna forget that girl's birthday?” a voice so versed in pettiness, you could smack it right from his clever, grinning lips.

At whim, you almost do. But then his words fall into perfect place; that subtle signifigance makes all the more sense.

Spring: dappled in sunlight and vigorous in the trees, seems lovelier than it would in March or May. Seas of crimson and clovers thrive in the middle of April, and so does the red in her hair—soft, auburn tines—and the meadows in her earnest and shiny eyes. Recently dim, bruised and disheartened. But there, and unplucked at least, above the freckles you least regret missing when vengeance and a clue drove her out of this large, timber sanctuary. Home.

Every year on this day, the sun is relentlessly beautiful. No wonder, you think, now that you remember.

It's Ellie's birthday.

“Shit,” you curse, chewing at your guilty lip. “Is Ellie hiding out today as well? Haven't noticed her walking the thoroughfare at all.” Through the idle-talk, your hands find stray porcelain to retrieve and pile in the sink, scoffing at the liters of coffee that inevitably go cold in forgotten mugs.

“Do you notice anything working behind that counter?”

“Duh, dipshit,” you spout, back-talking him shamelessly, “I noticed you ambling towards the window earlier and knew my ears were in for a grating punishment.” Minding your eyes on nothing but the various plates you grab, the clutter clears fast. Like a damn robot.

He raises his hands in defense. “Hey, not my fault patrol’s been on cruise control this week.” With a part of the counter graciously tidied by your speedy work, he reclines in the barstool and claims that space with his lower legs, off to the side. Blissfully permission-less. “Can't say the same for here, though.”

You draw in a prefacing breath, tilting a cup at him. “You could if you hel—”

“No chance.”

“Fuck you, Jess,” you reply wielding a nickname given for occasions of defeat, little knives glaring from your eyes. “Thought this friendship had a no-questions-asked sort of thing. You've disgraced me.” Cueing that age-old love for drama, you gild the lily; mock a drama-queen. Hand to your heart and a pout to your mouth.

Hating Jesse is out of the picture, and hate is an easy pill to swallow. Sure, you two bark blank insults from time to time, but it's all in good humor. You just get each other too well. A hitch fated to click. A shoulder to violently sob into.

Jesse tuts at you, rolling a smug pair of eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Diners just aren't my thing, as infected aren't yours.” He reaches and grasps his mug of coffee that'd been basking there ever since you whipped up his usual, content in keeping his gob flat for the ‘noon.

And you're content in the casual peace and company. Always are. It coerces you to fulfill orders quicker, you would say. Here you stand, in perfect function, machine of the cogs.

That's how all days streak by here. A warm sun arises, and the hustle and bustle of human nature crowds every faded red booth in here, as your kin would have you sustain, and you sustain it fine enough. Even with the latching, mostly silent presence of your best bud Jesse to keep boredom a stranger and insanity a myth. Peckish lips, thirsty throats; everybody. All famished faces of Jackson, satisfied in the wake of your work. All, save one.

Ding!

At the entrance, you hear the jingle of the tiny, golden bell topping the door, and it doesn't intrigue you to investigate. Everyone is a frequenter, and you're basically omnipresent; sensing who it is and where they're routed to before they even sit. Call that perfect function.

Abruptly, the vintage magazine Jesse blankly browsed through is smacked back in place, and his throat clears. “First customer to break the hour-long streak. Let's see who—” he trails, and a dramatic pause thickens the air. Surprise loudly ensues. “Oh, ain't that funny. Look what fate dragged in.”

“Is it not a regular?” you ask, and at last perk your chin up. Intrigue clasps you now, as Jesse thought it atypical enough to point out.

Turns out, it isn't a regular at all.

Fate was a scary portrayal, as fate—and unfinished threads—would have you snuck into a corner and stranded for her to find. Plaid and blue, stood Ellie, lost as a doe in tangled woods, yet tall with purpose in front of that swinging glass door. From here, you notice her right arm supported in a white sling and twisted into her chest, right off the bat, as you did the night of return. Changes were made, obviously, sprigs of marker detailing the canvas-color of it, no doubt produced by those pesky kids in-town. Her tattoo is sorely invisible behind the bandages too; you've always liked that thing.

She's a bona-fide crush. A red-headed angel.

There and then, you recall why your heart reawoke into a prance that night she returned head to toe in dry, aged blood. You felt the revival of an inner-warmth, tracing fingers over the stitches in her back as she hunched in repressive quietude. Felt the moon evaporate off your skin, felt her wrist tensen in your palm as you dressed the wounds in hers. Felt the elusive moment staying became going, as it wasn't right.

You went straight home and threw right up, that very night. Her cold, marred skin was as deathly-like as the skin of a corpse. And you trailed your fingertips, all over it.

Strange. In a week, her flesh has been suppled of life. Hale, blushing and glowing as in younger days.

In your heart: a tremor. It reaches up every time you swallow, and blooms its beat, pounding at the pit of your throat. You don't feel real, you feel light, you feel fright. You feel the past, waking from a slumber in you, emerging breathless beyond the surface. So many things.

You feel fourteen again.

“Guess her ears were burning,�� mumbled Jesse, polite enough to not transform your shared scrutiny into a scene, only so he could leave it in your hands. His head carefully turns, speaking softly, “You spoke to her at all, recently?”

“No,” a weighted breath departs you, and your shoulders repose. “Only the night she returned, while I tended to some of her travel wounds. Conversation wasn't easy to digest.” Shunning her very blatant presence, you pick your wash rag and begin again, foraging distraction.

“Bet not. Shit got hectic on the route Tommy picked,” he hums, and his eyes pursue once more to secretly follow her walking the opposite direction. Eyes you expectantly the second she slips into a booth. “Gonna take her order?”

You glower at his smug stare, knowing full well he intends to badger you into jumping the gun. Well, you're employed to do that, but, fuck fate! “Uh, duh? Di—”

“—Ipshit. Stop stalling.” He aims his hand, escorting you. “Birthday girl awaits.”

“Yeah, hold that smile. See what happens later.”

“Mhm.”

EXTRA SYRUP

Spectral hands suffocate your heart, and now your chest is tightened. Gut nervously sickened. There, she sits, seemingly absorbed by the air, and the sun that ripens with it. Thumbing at her nails, but not anxiously. Blowing at her lip, but not boredly. Hair dark ochre as the earth, yet fiery as the flaxen ray that pours into it. Tucked into a neat bun, as it was in December, January, and every paving year before. You like her hair that way.

She halved it up when Joel passed, and Seattle howled her name.

A lot about Ellie changed, really, but that is the perennial nature of water. Ellie is Neptune; a late-teenage girl experiencing a crucial shift into a new, individual season. Ones so seldom—they're cataclysmic, but temporary.

So much of her is eclipsed to the naked eye. Buried to make burrowing space for others. Just not you, it seems.

Every now and then, she glances as you intricately work your way over, a fist cupped to itself as if it alone safekeeps her deep and untold intentions; the warrant for sitting there. And you too, glance when her eyes smoothly retreat, dedicating pockets of this single, cherished minute to drink in little glimpses of her face. Trying to read her, read the shapes on her face if they indicate trouble, or truce. Last time you talked, you declared your resentment for being left worried and sleepless in Jackson.

Was it out of love?

Through the fair-haired light, that scar-heavy look on her features has noticeably abated, recapturing the tender warmth that gave her face the kind, puppy-browed ambiance you hesitated the world for. Gently laid brows, scarred the same as ever.

Those fucking freckles, too; a constellated map. Hidden miles and miles away for one sun and moon too many.

Not a mile bridges you both apart now, not anymore.

“Hey, Ellie,” you chime in, frail in respect of the one-mind conversation her idle stare partakes. Just her, and the spring sun. Sweet wheat skin is taken from its aerial shine as her head heeds your voice, a loose twine of auburn falling from place.

Your somber greeting fine-tuned the focus in her eyes, softening into a shape less spacious, more devoted.

And though away from underneath the boughs of sunlight, her eyes found a disembodied source. Dried moss, gleams into a violent sea glass, pupils taking in how you hold that notepad firm in thumbs and pointers.

For the first time in an age, you too, have changed.

The corners of her lips crease into her cheek. “Hey,” her reply mirrors the breathiness of yours, and her left arm low-arcs up to rest on the booth seat, body facing you head-on. Totally relaxed. “How come you didn't mention the job switch? Was lookin’ for you,” she asks curiously, a tinge of that sweet-talk peeking through her wide grin.

Now that you've stepped closer and garnered her attention, you can see and feel every notched nicety of her face on yours. You can only imagine how a swollen, sliced lip feels, and the continual migraines a fractured nose brings. Weeks of healing have swept by, but her afflictions in particular weren't petty.

“Guess it felt irrelevant to bring up when you got back. But you're here now, and you found me. So?” your tone edges on.

“Well, yeah,” she chuckles. “Did you not miss me?” She feigns offense; brows quirking and her tone pitching slightly.

You did.

A sigh starts in you, “Hard to not miss and worry for somebody when you picked up their slack in every patrol dating way back.” Barely nipping what you really felt with a snarky tease. “Oh shit, that rhymes,” you glance off and whisper to yourself, still loud enough to inspire mirth.

And it does; her forehead pinches and her voice rises in mirth, laughing casually and shifting in her seat to lean one elbow upon the table. “Ha— yeah,” she admits defeat. Ellie is undeniably cute when she does, always shrinks into herself and sinks into thoughtful conference, thinking of something—anything smart to knock you back into that corner. “Guess you're right. Hm, always were on my ass about that, huh?”

You tut, “Mhm. Missed my scolding in Seattle?” crossing a leg and bearing weight upon it.

“Nah,” she confesses briefly, and you barely believe it. Wringing in doubt at that sly smile she tries to conceal from you. “I learned my lesson this time.” Ellie glances up, a prayer written on her face asking you to hold your scolds. “Trust me.”

“Hurt enough this time?”

“Fuck you!” She punts you playfully in the ankle and begins a laugh again. “You’re not allowed to point that out!”

That was the way of things; Ellie would charge into a fight wearing her life on her chest, slackening the rules, and you had to reel her in. Tug the leash. It had you suspecting her to have a foolproof reason as her backbone, like she was daring the devil with eyes fearlessly open. Steadfast intent. She would lure runners to her, grapple them from you, or push you away beyond safety. Leave you to watch an animalistic vigor fill every bind in her body until you're convinced she’s either coming out bitten or scathingly torn.

You wish she saw how worrying she truly looked; a sweet face splattered hair to chin in the blood of infected, catching her breath and shaking the arm of the croaking infected she just slaughtered off her ankle. Being way too blithe-hearted for the sacred sake of everyone involved.

“Don't worry about me.”

One day, when she asked you with her solemn eyes to be afraid, you thought she finally trusted you to handle yourself past her overprotective nature. Then, one clicker got too close for comfort, and she retracted the pact of fighting equally. Losing more than what her blade owes the earth would prove her fears to be a product of her unsacrifice.

Ellie figured it was half the reason you quit patrol duty, but not that it was fully the reason you anguished over her leaving for Seattle later on; her appetite for violence.

She accepts it so easily. But even when you had sworn she had place in something as simple as retiring from patrol and nothing else, she smelt the sugary scent of a white lie. Joel did it before. She never accepted it under a gentle radar. Instead, it had her wondering if she had upset you, if you would forgive the crimson melodrama and still take her up on breakfasts at ten when she returned. Regardless if you painted the full picture in the end, apologies spilled alike to winded waters out of this girl; sorry that she still could not stomach you tagging along for vengeance. Never-ending sorries, and you lapped each one up. Brought gaping arms around her and absorbed all the ugly and hopeless sounds. You wanted to prove her fears wrong, but perhaps it was time fear let you be the lamb. Live and let live.

Then, Dina would step in, and Ellie would be wrapped around her finger in sudden laughter. Happy and unhurt. Couldn't even remember what occurred before her sun entered the room, and dried those tears.

Crimson melodrama is all you preserved when abandoned, and is all you could look at her with when in longing.

The winter dance had your guts up to your throat.

Seattle, inexplainable.

You don’t hate Dina; your envy lies with the disconnection of it all.

“What do you recommend?” she questions, and her eyes anticipate you to be the ultimate apocalyptic-dining expert. Locked and attentive. She then begins to shake her head in gesture, planting the menu down. "I don't— I don't usually go to these kinds of places, so.. What do you think?" she awkwardly giggles, tapping the menu's plastic sleeve.

Tension presses a smile onto your lips at her inelegance. "Nobody does, not even people who went to these places before the outbreak," you opine, swapping the notepad to one hand and sliding into the booth. "It's okay. I mean.. hmm, what do you prefer? Sweet or salty?"

Her eyelids flick down, fingers coming to lace together as her eyes traverse the options. "Uh, I guess I— wait, wait," she interrupts herself. A swift finger draws you to look down at the menu, "You guys make pancakes here?" green eyes gaping at you with pupils more voracious than her stomach—or her sweet tooth.

"Yeah."

"I'll have that then."

It was a steadfast verdict. The sweet honey pancakes, she shall have, at the cost of a couple minutes and a couple ingredients. But it isn't traditional for birthdays, so you weigh in. “Just pancakes? I mean.. Faye is back there if you want something a little more celebrator—”

“—I'm not really a blow-the-candles-out and make-a-wish type of person,” she corrects you, brows cinched in as she rambles. Then, her free hand scoots the menu forward. “But you already knew that, you just insist otherwise,” she chuckles, unable to meet eye and eye.

True. Your soft insistence dawns from wanting nothing less than heaven inside everything for her, and maybe a dash of that sweet-sweet crush on her. But, Ellie is so staunch in being the humble girl that doesn't glorify every recorded happening with string lights and a wish hurled into the uncaring universe bent upon nurturing demised, late lights young girls reach for. She kept everything low-key: a small garage get-together on her last birthday, the one before that, and the one predating those two. Alcohol in your palms and movies playing back to back. Budding distorted laughs and tumbles into each other. Birthday things.

The remnants of her fifteen-year-old mind hangs aimlessly inside that museum. Dangled and stretched into archaic bones. On the day of return, she arrived happier than a sunflower drunk on the sun. Broad smiles and whatever else.

Wasn't for long.

“Forget you're so down-to-earth and reserved about all the fun things,” you snarkily deliver, retiring that still empty notepad behind your back. Memory shall serve. “Will that be it then?”

“Are you saying I'm not fun?”

“I'm saying you need more of it.” You emphasize with a tiny bounce-up on your calves, tilting your head north. Though, nothing she uttered was wrong and so your voice silkily drones on, “And that.” You act the lack of a ruder way to insinuate. “But yeah, okay. One order of pancakes coming up.”

“Cool, I'll uh—have a 'celebratory' drink in the meantime?” She nudges the menu towards you once again, irises pulled thin on themselves. Thoroughly staring; your reflection in a bead of black.

You have to laugh, kindly laugh. “No alcohol here, dumbass.”

“Oh. Right.” Her doe-stare only crescendoed from there, shying away at the result of her asking. Something reluctant is lodged in her pale throat, stumbling out only when it feels imminent as you turn away. “D-Do you wanna chat, afterwards? There's so much bullshit surrounding Seattle I have to catch you up on and I-I didn't before, so.."

Swinging your head back, you gauge that mercurial girl there. Tripping up her request like it couldn't escape hibernation from her head any quicker than insult does.

Faye shouldn't mind. “'Course, I was left to wonder about everything since that night anyway.” Your boss might even encourage it; knowing that your long-standing crush for her—heartbreaking to fathom, beautiful to feel—never swept you from rambling Ellie into some fairytale, so she would use it to psych you into asking her out. Jesse, too. Damn the nosy ones!

But it's the one thing that keeps you worried now.

“Cool, cool. Oh, hey, add extra syrup will you?”

What does Ellie think of you?

“Mhm,” syrup is nowhere as sweet as your hum. “Got it.”

Does she think of you at all?

MOUTHS ALL-CONSUMING AND DEPRIVING

Minutes in, minutes out, wallowing at that ruby-red booth fed the realization to Ellie that the nerves feeding off her anxious chest could not combat conversation alone. She needed an aid. Liquid courage. Velvety smooth and robust.

Fortunately for betting gods and heaven-watching anyones, leftover whiskey from the last bonfire made stock in her cloistered, chaotic cabinets. So it founded no surprise that it whirled to mind after the celebratory-drink fact; leading you here, in her bedroom, on her bed. She pours whiskey into stubby glasses, One for her, one for you, and a lucky extra two for further along this unexplored line. Nothing overflowing limits.

But, oh boy, did it make you all lovey-dovey.

Her lips move and they dance over words, but all you hear is your own enamoration of how heart-shaped they are. You see, but fail to hear and comprehend. Floating aimlessly into those freckles, again. Something a fourteen-aged, sanguine mind would do.

Ellie was relaying Seattle to you, she prefaced. Prefacing didn’t aid you in paying attention, though. Today is not your sharpest, it dates to be your most absentminded. Not your usual, at all.

Nods are swayed to every shock-value word that you manage to understand, but the star-crossed rest, you miss, and replace with whatever story her pupils trace. They flit to read your face after each end of her sentences, so it has you thinking too much of her time has slipped without the company of a listener, and now that her time slips into you, she can use it to stretch your expression with whatever witty remark she makes.

She did one day blurt that your laugh compliments your smile—or however that fucking flirt threw it over the crackle of that bonfire.

In fact, when you begin to let parts of her body neck-down from her face distract you, only then do you decipher how much she has grown in a month.

She pitches her drink to sip, and your eyes are hot on that glassy trail, artistically concerned with the way she swills down whiskey: fluently gulped, throat bobbing, the scar on her lip licked clean. Her brows too, have thickened, much so as her leathered skin, her callouses. She traces her thigh in circles repeatedly—a fidgety habit—and her lips purse and tug and wrinkles hug and press said lips when they are prettily wide.

Every high noon or low point of her body was different, and you have missed a great many things you care too much about to not appreciate every brink and midst. You don't want her to be lost to otherworld winds without studying her presence harshly. She is in your scrutiny, now more than ever.

“So, do I get to see my pancakes yet, or?”

“Oh, oops.” You snap out of your woolgathering, wagging your head left to right. Then briskly as you assented her invitation, you slide your knees under you, reorganizing your seating. “Can't blame me for being so invested in your epic tales. Could totally be a comic narrator for the school in town.”

Ellie had already been sat skyward. Sprawled at one leg and tucked at the other, arm in her lap, where her whiskey is nestled. “Oh, sure,” she says with a sarcastic edge. “Those kids are a bunch of little shits. They would probably interrupt me with fart jokes or make actual fart sounds than sit still and pay attention for thirty minutes.”

“Hmm,” you hum, short and atonal, peeling the corner of the plastic lid back. “And who do you think taught them those terrible jokes, huh?”

Soft lids narrow together to sharpen her gaze; glaring at your clever comment, lips propped slightly open. “Terrible?” An offended, toothy smile pulls on her lips. All sentences she could possibly muster up come crashing into each other; an agglomeration, “I—They aren't bad jokes—and they're puns, really, so they're actually pretty fuckin' smart,” she boasts with brows raised. “And It isn't my fault that every annoying kid picked them up and started repeating them.”

It most certainly is her fault. Hell, even you catch yourself reciting them at the crest of nightfall, giggling into your palm. Although, why she's trying so rigorously to plead her pun-enjoying case to you, might just be funnier. “Are you seriously trying to explain puns to me?”

“God,” she surrenders in a chuckle, and bows her head to introduce another quick sip to her parched lips. Ellie then eyes you for a blank second thereafter, tugging the plump of her lower lip through her teeth. Like contemplation has her hindered.

Around you, the lungs of the garage’s foundation inhale, and exhale; creaking and settling.

She dashes a huff. “You basically asked,” Ellie reminds you, her tone and eye-roll implying obviousness. “Can I eat my pancakes now? M'hungry.” Her face sutures into a pseudo-frown and encloses herself to a crisscross, impatiently behaving.

Now, as for the pancakes. Fluffy, biscuit brown, star-shaped, bountifully rivered in unrestricted syrup, topped off by a definitely-melted, humbled ingot of butter. Needless to say, you're pleased by what boredom and intact cooking-books taught you, and she hasn't even seen them yet.

The ask for a carryout-container was already in order the moment you set pace for her table, because you wound up in a near-catastrophe as she sought you out around the kitchens like a lost pup and maundered right into you. Thank patrol for instincts; it's the one thing you held an undying clutch to. And the sweet pancakes you proudly plated, making refuge on the counters as you cross-examined Ellie in case you injured her arm more.

Lucky girl was all fine and peachy, of course.

She only knocked you two right into that near-injury mess to invite you here. Persuasion sat readily in her throat incase you questioned her motives—most of her ideas turning out to be a little friend-group antic, never anything serious or singular—but you agreed to it in double-time.

“Think you might just be one of those kids at this point.” You gingerly tweak the rim of the plate you kept the pancakes on and lift it outside the container, planting it between all four knees.

“Eh, you're not so innocent yourself,” Ellie contends before she even casts her first peek at the hillock of starry sweetness, totally taken aback when she does. “Holy shit,” she awes, just as if she were a young teen again, “Are you kidding me?”

Labor-intended nights never slip soft through the gaps of your fastened fingers, not even days where your work period is abridged, but hey, strange, space-brain girls are far beyond ordinary exception. Hell, Ellie is vital! Commemorating the red angel you worship in the patterned and soapy act of cooping up on her bed, toasting to the moonlight and letting her talk your ear off for old times' sake is your approach to telling her you love her.

“Know I'm not a pancake-connoisseur, but I gave it a unique whirl. Just for you.” You held a fork out, gracing her with first honors. “Don't blame me if it gives you a stomachache,” your forewarn is a doubtful one; in your mind, morningtime will arise with an extra punch to her gut.

Ellie, however, stares right into the baying eyes of a challenge, snatching the fork from you. "Hey, if it's good enough for my tongue, then it's good enough for ma' gut!" and promptly after exclaim, gashes and tears her fork into the sweet, airy texture of the pancake, popping it past her sweet, berried lips. “Mhh—and I will blame you. So you end up feeling sorry n'take care of me.”

God, whatever souls you would sell to spend paradisal afterlife with this fool. Talking with a gob flush of the birthday project you're humiliated to be proud of. You scoff, “Asshole,” lightheartedly scornful as can be, and it snaps something to mind. Head tilting eye-to-eye, “Dina wouldn't be the one to?” you ask, right after she swallows.

That particular question seemingly struck a chord as her brows cinched together, eyes dropping with allusion. “No,” she says meekly, soft in the sound, but you can tell it came up heavy. Shadowed by a sigh, and an untimely chuckle. “Do you want to know?” She throws on a shrug that ripples through her head, sending it to hang lopsidedly. As the stout willow grows.

“Guess so,” you agree temperately, not wanting to seem too eager—even though with this topic, you just might be. Camouflage those old, foul feelings of envy. “Did Seattle have you kicking more ass than just Wolves and infected? Couldn't have been a very romantic tr—”

“Dina's pregnant.”

Silence carves it's way after that. Thick, tense and unyielding. You had words lined up but like a shot in stark night they've just—vanished, sunk back into the chamber. Nothing prepared you to hear that, “Pregnant?” lowering a hand to your belly where you swear your heart has pummeled to.

Ellie glances up, once at your widened face and once at your hand. A bite of humor works it's way above her chin; smugly smirking. “God, don't tell me you're pregnant now too.”

“What? No!”

Damn idiot. Should punch her right in the—nevermind.

Ellie is way too quick to make serious things unserious. “You're a damn menace,” you unapprovingly giggle.

“Am I?” Amusement raises her brows, tearing into the pancake with her fork for another bite. “Cause you seem to like menace.”

You adjust onto propped elbows, “Do I?” playing all nonchalant. “I mean, what do you mean by that?” your voice dims, expending for the small space that separates you and her.

“Mhh,” she contemplates with a purring sound, and shrugs. “Dunno.” Ellie retreats those eyes downward where you won't compel her to smile. You can tell she battles the letch to look up again, which—as proven in her case—doesn't fucking work. She shoots up carefully, and it's a conflicted gaze this time. “Not with Dina anymore, though. That’s the other thing.”

And we're back.

Having reconciled the chance, you retrace. Look at her with somber concern. “Did something between the two of you happen?” It's a gentle question, reinforced by the bulletproof stare you offer her to unwind in.

The air in her voice softens, “Sort of,” and the meridians of your body then become easier to look at as she continues, wrinkles in her brows. “Said some things I shouldn't have, and we.. figured it best to leave it at that. For now.” her explanation sounds desolate and attemptless, like she has sat in shadow and vigil accepting this fact and has given up on hope. Crestfallen and quieter; this isn't like her. Bent at her wrist, dangling that glass above her crisscrossed lap like a sad child pokes at the food on their plate.

“For now?” You hate that you pry, but that sick greed in your gut from times before haunts with a hunger for knowledge. Your envy that is enlightenment. Still, you hesitate to seem nosy, wanting nothing than to possibly just console your friend in need. “What's holding you back from.. calling it quits? The pregnancy?” You crane your body upright slowly.

“Just still feelin' bad.” Her fingers begin a tap-dance at the glass' rim. “I'm an asshole.”

You duck at the neck, searching for her downcast eyes. “Come on, El. I've only ever seen you rant and rave at middle-aged grumpy men and infected, no way it was that bad.”

“You weren’t there,” she insists otherwise with an earnest voice, inciting a refreshed sigh as she swigs her whiskey.

“Well, what did you say?” You are relentless. No, normally you would not condone it, but tonight, tongues are loose and boundaries are blurry. You miss your happy girl. “I could talk to Dina, if it helps.”

“Wouldn’t change shit.”

“If you love her, you would try.” Even if it sickens you.

Ellie slots her drink in her lap, and grouches. “Dude.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and stifles a groan, frustrated. It draws out in words without proper footing, “It's weird. We just don't know what to say to each other—I don't know what to say to her, it.. it's just how it is—it was a mutual agreement. None of your business, really.”

Her own tongue is a very obvious byproduct of nerves, whiskey, stress, by and large a lot of things. Being goaded, definitely.

How it is, is how it will be.

“She broke up with me.”

You didn't mean to goad her, but curiosity—and a kiss of alcohol and envy—ate your refrain. The lack of any eye contact or movements to stray from you thereafter her word is telling enough. That it aches her head, and a cold, guilty sweat crosses over your skin. It was a stupid thing to blurt. You feel fucking stupid for even saying that.

Fuck.

Her dry sniffle is noisy on your shortcoming, and has you scrambling to think. “Sorry, just been worried for weeks.” But you shrink into a ball of abraded arms and legs, conserving yourself into a shy, spotted egg of curiosity that clads no hatching cracks to be convicted of. “Thought you two finally getting together would be the dream to end all dreams.” What the fuck do you know anyway?

Her eyes watch through you, into you like water; she notices, and the pancakes are slid to the side. Shuffles of fabric clamber closer as she eats the inches between you two, her breath brushing your forehead. “Hey, hey. I didn't mean anything by it. It's fuckin' great that I got somebody I can drink with and mope to. Really. Just been shitty all around—Tommy? Fuck, he's been the worst lately.”

Everything ascends in temperature once her hand plants on the side of your neck, every nerve petrifies; unheard-of touch. She can feel the gasped tension in your throat, thumbing the muscles down.

“Don't worry about it,” she says, and her saying that amuses you.

A moth-eaten phrase in particular is what was said. You scoff at it, plopping your legs back out. “Dude.” You bite a smile into your lips. Sucks that such a hackneyed thread of words does so; you're really chewing back the urge to call her any byname of dumbass, per usual. But damn that sincere face on her face that sweetens the teasing deal for you. You settle for low-hanging fruit. “You always say that, Ellie.”

“Ugh,” she seconded a scoff back at you, grimacing coyly. “Don't you start.” Ellie drags her hand off, not intending for it to land smack-dab on your thigh. It takes her a second to register the sound, the texture, slinking her hand behind her when you say nothing.

“Start what?” you stutter a laugh, bringing your thighs together.

“Nothin,”

“Don’t bullshit me, WIlliams.” To educe her, you dig your foot into her side, poking her. “Does it have anything to do with only me being here and not anybody else?” You lean into her.

Ellie does too, an exact mirror of you. “No..” The only thing that contrasted you, was her hand again, seeking what was left behind on your thigh. “Just wanted to see you first,” her lips barely move besides a slick smirk. Voice tiptoeing through the air, the noise-level two clandestine lovers live at, in secret song.

“You fuckin liar. No hang-outs for weeks before you left and suddenly you want to see me?” You call bull when she relucts to raise her hung head, witnessing the corners of her lip curl. Her head twists away more, and you spearhead the first, little move: tuck that irkful strand of auburn with a single finger. “C'mon.. what is it?”

“Stupid,” she blatantly spits, and at last confronts your face with her puckish one—glimpsing down, and up, and down. Watching her grip flex into your leg intermittently, chewing her lip. “Mhh, maybe 'm starting it.”

Ellie is heart-poundingly close; her breath is now yours to breathe. You whisper, “Maybe you are,” perking yourself right up to her cheek, unnoticing of the ardor her eyes spin over your face. Unsure where to stare. You pretend the pressure on your thigh flies under the radar, too, and that your heart isn't in the middle of a love-logged swell, and your cheeks aren't tender from smirking at the feeling of it perched there. Love-struck death befalls, if else confessed, so you tease, tease, and tease to stomach your excitement. “Maybe, you're stalling on those pancakes because they actually gave you a stomachache. You feeling good?”

Her bitten lips part, and the next sensations you feel—are transcendental.

Wisping whispers so hot, and intoxicating on your skin, you fail to catch her hand coming up from your thigh to clasp your face, or that hers has shifted in front of yours. She breathes out, “Won't you shut up already?” through lips pulled into a smirk, and rushes to press it fondly against your mouth.

You wince—somewhere between an electrified gasp and a reaction of delight—into the kiss she stole, and it only beckons her to starve more for you. The heat of her whiskey breath pours into your mouth, and you drape your eyes closed. Scoring these seconds by, she spends them concentratedly rolling the skin together, others pushing and shying from the kiss, until she stills and bleeds out the pressure in a slow, wet smack. Hazily eyeing you for a response.

Once you feel her no more, your eyes blurrily creak open, and the corners of her lips at soft upturn greet you. Single creases at either side, the few freckles above them outspread.

Judgement renounces you, leaving you with pathetic pickings for reply. You aren't sure what she wants—or needs you to say. “Ellie?” daintily, a mumble flows onto her lips, and is far from a frail sound of concern. Intrigue encapsulates you.

What does this mean?

You think you know, but self-reason has always proven itself to be naive and too eager to trust.

By cruel emotion, she misunderstands you. “Sorry,” she pants out breathlessly, blowing the shape of it into your cleft lips and hovering right upon. Her fingers gouge the fabric clothing your chest, mangling it into her fist—an attempting grasp. This proximity is all she could ever dream of. “Is this okay?” Yet, dreams always sever at the apotheosis. So when she comes in for the second kiss, she wants no more for dreaming; the reality she yawns with hunger into, is insurmountable.

A dewdrop of something cold dribbles between you. Tears.

In turn, you misunderstand her. Using your own stubbornness to create an enigma. To think, that out of the blue, all of this would transpire? After endless wishes unanswered? You doubt it.

You love her, but you refuse the reality of it happening upon you.

Separating from the plush, licked skin of her lips fleetingly, you speak. “Is this you being drunk?” Only to be drawn back in without her processing your words right away, and then drawn back out. Intricate intimacy.

“Please,” Ellie begs, “Answer me, before I feel like an asshole again,” and chuckles sobbingly before her teeth feel rapaciously empty, and cannot tolerate it any longer. Instinct, and teeth nip your bottom, vulnerable lip.

Neither of you could be totally drunk, having only drank a modest portion.

So this is raw.

Thinly pulled, she slowly stretches it across the air between, and watches it spring back beneath eyelids sunken low. The action entails nothing else for her to feed satisfaction from, already panting right in your mouth in search of more as soon as your tongue descries the answer. “More than okay,” you heave in a passioned breath along that all-consuming, deprived mouth. Your hand squeezes her fist confirmingly.

It quenches her lust to know, a hot-blooded, moaned and voiceless curse snapping into your mouth. “I fuckin' love you.” Her rage softens in meeker kisses, peppering them up to the corners of your lips until she pauses, and pulls herself away. Her eyes turn troubled and adrenaline-rushed. Stains of tears shimmer beneath, along new ones that begin to plunge, and for the first time ever, you know they're yours. But then the flesh between frowns, the mood shifting, and she croaks, “Am I.. an asshole?”

It breaks you to hear that.

You glare, and stammer, “W-What? You aren't.” Hooking dearly onto her wrist when her hand glides up to rest against your cheek. “Why?”

“Cause I sprung this on you, 'nd I don't wanna force you to..” Ellie cranks to a halt, mouth screwing shut like her thoughts were too much to bear hearing aloud. “Fuck,” she quietly spews, cowering her face near your neck.

“Said it was okay,” you coo, clarifyingly coo, raking your fingertips up and through the tied loops of her hair. “The only asshole thing you'd ever done was not let me come with you.”

“I know.” Her eyes search for uncomplicated plains. The sheets, her lap, your neck. A kiss is planted as she tips her head, the gust thereafter a warm reminder of her sorries.

“Thought you were going to die.” You awoken in violent patterns, cold nights restless in bed, tossing and turning. Waking and falling into daydreams of how Jackson would feel missing a cardinal component. A girl to rave against dying lights. Thorns scale your throat at the thought. “You're reckless, y'know?” you mean it as a gentle insult, chuckling as it leaves your lips, and sealing it into her scarred palm. Kissing reckless consequences.

Her lips loiter on the pulse of your throat. They drag, and they drag.. sloppily limping over your jaw as she makes her way to observe you in her palm, mumbling low, and gravelly, “How many times am I gonna have to say it?” Ellie deems it redundant to tell you that she knows again, resorting to her own little gentle insult, “Such a fuckin' sap.”

“Says you.”

Her hand is comfortingly warm; you aren't fain to break away. But her fingers are curious, thumb nearly making it into your mouth before she second-guesses herself, easing it at the verge of your lips instead.

A longing moment of Ellie staring at the way her thumb looks—a decoration to your mouth—passes, and she responds, “Still alive, aren't I?” to that loose thread of a plea you forgot you even said. It calls you right over, bidding you to look into her eyes again as space finds itself thinning again, her scratchy, band-aided nose caressing yours. “Dumbass.”

She chuckles into your mouth as you chuckle into hers, cutting yourself off with a kiss that ebbs, and flows. Suckles, and smacks, snaking her tongue in for a change. That sweet, sweet wheat. Saccharinity you can't explore anywhere else other than the outline of her mouth. And you—of grunted volitions in her chest—take exploration further, replacing the grasp of her shoulder with the coursing of fabric, sliding under the hem of her shirt and palming the skin there.

You feel her skin breathe, her belly breathe into your hand, and a content wrinkle pinch between her brows. Her skin, is as soft as nothingness.

“You're a dumbass.”

Air clings to your cheek as her hand reaches around you, pressing fingerprints into the base of your head as to prop you for her delightments. Ellie is no amateur, enjoying you as if she knew you were hers without explicit pledge.

“Sure, babe,” she scoffingly counters, and pulls her tongue out of you, lips messiy shining. She scouts you out; lays eyes on your expression with undertones of satisfaction and presses an appetent bite right back into your damp skin, grunting into the filthy kiss.

Your mind is one-pathed right now; in the most maddened form, you crave the story further down her throat. In that warm space, is air thinned and balmy with the scent of alcohol and syrup. In those whimpers, is the sincere confession she held tight in throatly gloaming, all those intimate times before. In all of your yearnings, your lips never parted for more.

Two holes that want to consume each other.

Weeping, wailing, tormenting in an empty forever.

“Fuck you, Ellie,” you cathartically sob into the humid cavern of her, a hint of wanton—and other repressed things, taking form. That hand under her shirt wanders from her navel and tweaks the button of her jeans, pressing your body against all of her like it hurt to be inside your own, singular body. Overcame by a need you could not chew out.

Ellie cuts the kiss, quick to soothe the movement with her hand pressing down and collecting yours. “Hey, hey, too fast,” she laughs, distancing herself and giving you those eyes that could see you were overstrung, hectic to go somewhere you aren't prepared for.

She loves you, but that means appreciating you enough to wait until time is perfect.

Her head cocks, “Let's take shit slow, huh?” fingers weaving into the pliant gaps of yours and pulling your fist dear to her chin, kissing it.

You speak over the repeated sounds of her smooches, “Yeah, sorry,” cringing slightly at how fucking cheesy the scene became. But, when is Ellie not? Wonder clasps you now; intent to know what this makes out of the two of you, having held your feelings for forever. “Well, what does all this mean, then?”

“It means..” Ellie slants her body even more, stealing your wrist along with her. Planning something, no doubt. “You and me, breakfast tomorrow at ten, Tipsy Bison?” Her mouth stuck to the side of your hand like syrup, so firm in not letting you go.

It makes your ears simmer hearing her shamelessly set up a date, of all things she could have said. God. You errantly laugh, totally not giddy when her mouth starts sprinkling up your arm at an alarming pace. “Sounds more than good—hey! You slow down!”

Happy birthday, asshole.

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rootedinrevisions · 13 days ago

Text

Let's Find Out Together

SUMMARY: After a painful breakup, you turn to Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, your longtime friend, for support. But as he steps in to help you heal, he reveals that he’s been harboring feelings for you all along. What starts as a comforting distraction quickly turns into an intense, unexpected connection that blurs the line between friendship and something more. Now, as the sparks fly, you're left questioning everything you thought you knew about love, friendship, and passion.

A/N: Thank you to the Anon who sent this request in! this was a fun one to write! I hope you enjoy it!

PROMPT: "What do you like?" "I don't know." "Well, then how about we find out together?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. (Biting, Marking, Oral Female Receiving)

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The Hard Deck was alive with its usual buzz—boots scuffed against the wooden floors, laughter echoed from the pool table, and the jukebox played a classic rock song that you barely registered. You sat at the bar, staring down into the bottom of your glass like it might hold the answers to every question rattling around in your head.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice from behind you.

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw slid onto the stool beside you, his presence like a balm for your frayed nerves. His aviators hung from the neckline of his shirt, and his easy smile faded the moment he got a good look at your face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone softer now, concerned.

You tried to muster a reassuring smile but knew it fell flat. “Nothing. Just… a long day.”

He wasn’t buying it. Bradley had known you long enough to spot when something was bothering you. His brow furrowed as he leaned in closer, his voice low. “Come on. It’s me. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass. Then, with a quiet sigh, you admitted, “I broke up with Derek.”

Bradley’s expression flickered—something unreadable passed over his face, a mix of surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place. He took a moment, then asked, “What happened?”

You swallowed, the words feeling heavier than they should. “I caught him cheating on me.”

Bradley’s hand clenched around his beer bottle, his jaw tightening. “That asshole,” he muttered under his breath, then louder, “He can go screw himself.”

You snorted at his bluntness, a small laugh escaping despite yourself. Bradley’s intensity softened as he looked back at you.

“I’m serious,” he said, his tone gentler now. “You deserve better than that. Better than him.”

“Yeah, right,” you replied with a hollow laugh. “Good guys aren’t as common as they used to be.”

Bradley shrugged casually, but his lips twitched into a small smile. “I think I’m a pretty good guy.”

You blinked, caught off guard, then smiled at him. “Yeah, you are. One of the best, actually.”

He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the bar. “Then let me take you on a date.”

You stared at him, momentarily stunned. “Bradley…”

His brown eyes held yours, steady and earnest. “I mean it. Let me take you out.”

“You don’t mean it,” you said, shaking your head, though your pulse quickened at the thought.

“I do,” he countered, his voice unwavering. “I’ve liked you for a while. But you were with Derek, and I wasn’t going to get in the way of that. Now that you’re not…” He trailed off, his gaze softening. “I just want to show you how you should’ve been treated all along.”

Your heart twisted at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t process how Bradley—your steady, dependable Bradley—was suddenly baring his feelings to you like this.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted quietly.

“Say yes,” he said simply.

Your lips curved into a small, hesitant smile.

“Okay,” you said, the word slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.

His face lit up, and he reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against yours where they rested on the bar. The touch was tentative, warm, and for the first time that night, you felt the weight on your chest ease just a little.

“Let me take you home,” he said. “You’ve had enough of this place for one night.”

You nodded, letting him help you off the stool. As he led you toward the door, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the start of something you’d been too blind to see before.

The drive back to your place was quiet at first, the soft hum of the engine filling the space as you leaned back in your seat, watching the lights of the town blur past. Bradley’s hand rested casually on the gearshift, his fingers drumming lightly against it in time with the song playing low on the radio.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, “is this you taking me home and tucking me in? Or is this you taking me home?”

Beside you, Bradley’s lips twitched into a grin, though he kept his eyes on the road. “Depends,” he said smoothly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “What do you want it to be?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked.” His tone was light, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something more—something that made your stomach flip.

“Just so you know,” you said, folding your arms across your chest in mock indignation, “you’re terrible at tucking people in. I seem to remember you leaving me to sleep on a couch last New Year’s while you stole my blanket.”

Bradley laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “First of all, that blanket was fair game. Second, you’re the one who insisted on watching that terrible rom-com marathon. I was being a good friend by suffering through it.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Suffering? You cried during The Notebook.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Fine. Maybe I got something in my eye. A guy can be moved by powerful cinema without crying, you know.”

“Sure, Brad,” you said, unable to keep the smile off your face.

The banter continued, easy and familiar, until he pulled up outside your place. He shifted the car into park but didn’t immediately move to unbuckle his seatbelt. Instead, he turned to you, his expression softening as his eyes searched yours.

“Seriously, though,” he said, his voice low, “it’s up to you. I meant what I said back there. I’m not in a rush. I just want to be here for you.”

Your smile faded into something gentler as the weight of his words settled over you. “I know, Bradley. And… I appreciate it.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air in the car thick with something unspoken. Then you reached for the door handle, breaking the spell.

“You coming in, or are you going to sleep in the car?” you asked, your tone teasing but your heart pounding.

Bradley grinned, unbuckling his seatbelt. “You know I’m not letting you go in there without company.”

You reached your front door, fishing your keys out of your bag, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Bradley trailed behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence. As you tried to slot the key into the lock, your hands trembled—whether from the chill or the way your heart was racing, you weren’t sure.

Before you could get the door open, you felt him. Bradley’s hands slid gently around your waist, his touch tentative at first, as though giving you the chance to pull away. When you didn’t, he pulled you closer, his chest pressing against your back.

“Bradley…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

His only response was to lean down, his lips brushing softly against the curve of your neck. The first kiss was light, testing, a feather-soft touch that sent a shiver down your spine. The second lingered longer, his warm breath fanning over your skin as he pressed his mouth to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his voice low and husky against your neck.

You closed your eyes, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. “Yeah,” you hummed, the word barely audible.

You swore you felt him smile against your skin before he continued, his kisses growing bolder, more insistent. His lips trailed down the side of your neck, tracing a path toward your shoulder. His hands splayed across your stomach, anchoring you to him as his mouth moved lower.

Every kiss sent a wave of warmth through you, the world outside your little bubble fading away.

“Bradley…” His name slipped from your lips, half a sigh, half a plea, though you weren’t even sure what you were asking for.

He hummed in response, his lips still trailing over your skin. His touch wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was deliberate, reverent, as though he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than he cared to admit.

You turned your head slightly, trying to catch his gaze, but he paused, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he spoke. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said softly.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you turned fully in his arms, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest. His brown eyes searched yours, and whatever he saw there must have been enough, because his lips were on yours a moment later, warm and sure, pulling you even closer.

Bradley’s lips never left yours as his hands moved down your back, his fingers grazing over the curve of your hips before gripping your thighs. With an effortless motion, he lifted you, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck for support.

Your breath hitched as he adjusted his hold, steady and sure, like he’d done this a hundred times in his mind. The strength in his arms sent a shiver through you, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered how he managed to make it all look so seamless.

Still cradling you securely, Bradley leaned back just enough to reach behind you, pushing your door open with one hand. The kiss never faltered, his lips still moving against yours in a way that made your head spin. The door swung open, and he stepped inside, his boots echoing softly against the hardwood.

With a swift motion, he kicked the door shut behind him, the solid thunk of it closing grounding you in the moment. Then he turned, pressing your back gently against the wall, his body pinning yours in place.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly as his lips traveled down, brushing over your jawline and back to your mouth. The intensity of his kiss deepened as his tongue slipped past your lips, teasing, exploring, drawing a soft moan from your throat that you couldn’t hold back.

Bradley’s hands slid down your sides, his touch leaving trails of heat in its wake. When they settled on your waist, his thumbs stroked slow, deliberate circles against your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. The way he held you—firm but gentle, steady but utterly consuming—made your pulse race.

Every movement, every touch, felt purposeful, like he was trying to show you with his hands and mouth everything he hadn’t yet said out loud.

“Bradley,” you murmured against his lips, your voice breathless and shaky.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his lips brushing yours as he paused just long enough to look at you, his brown eyes dark and full of something that made your stomach flutter.

You couldn’t form the words, but he didn’t seem to need them. Instead, he dipped his head again, capturing your lips in another searing kiss that left no room for doubt about how he felt—or how much he wanted you.

Bradley pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his lips hovering near yours as his warm breath brushed your skin. His hands still rested on your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your sides as his eyes searched yours with a mixture of mischief and heat.

“So,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “do you still want me to just tuck you in?”

The question made your pulse quicken, but instead of faltering, a surge of boldness rose within you. Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging his head back gently but firmly, exposing the strong line of his throat. His lips parted slightly, and a low groan rumbled in his chest, the sound sending a shiver through you.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing the edge of his jaw as you whispered, “I want you, Bradley.”

His reaction was immediate. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer against him as his eyes darkened with an intensity that made your breath catch. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that,” he muttered, his voice rough and full of unspoken desire.

Without another word, he shifted you in his arms with ease, his hold on you unwavering as he stepped back from the wall. Your legs tightened instinctively around his waist, your fingers still tangled in his hair as he turned and started down the hallway.

The journey to your bedroom felt electric, every step punctuated by the tension between you. Bradley’s grip on you was sure and steady, his strength making you feel both weightless and completely grounded.

As he reached the door to your room, he paused, glancing at you with a small, almost cocky smirk. “Last chance to back out,” he teased, though his voice held a note of seriousness beneath the playfulness.

Your response was simple: you leaned forward and kissed him, pouring every ounce of your pent-up feelings into it. That was all the answer he needed.

With a quiet chuckle, he carried you over the threshold, his lips finding yours again as he stepped inside and nudged the door closed behind him with his foot.

Bradley walked you over to the bed, his movements careful and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second. Gently, he lowered you onto the soft mattress, his hands lingering on your hips for a moment before he leaned over you. The room felt still, save for the quiet rustle of sheets beneath you and the sound of your own uneven breathing.

He braced himself on one arm, his other hand brushing a strand of hair from your face as his lips met yours again. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. Then his mouth began to travel, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw and back down to your neck.

Between kisses, his voice came out low and teasing. “What do you like?”

The question caught you off guard, and you froze for a moment, your mind blanking under the weight of it. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bradley stilled, his lips hovering just above your collarbone. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

“You’ve... you’ve done this before, right?” he asked, his voice tinged with an awkward uncertainty.

A laugh bubbled out of you, breaking the tension. “Yes, I’ve slept with people before,” you said, your tone light and reassuring. “It’s just... all the guys I’ve been with only ever did missionary.”

His expression shifted instantly. First, his eyes widened in disbelief, and for a split second, you thought he might be about to argue. But then his lips curled into a slow, confident smirk, the kind that made your pulse race.

“Missionary,” he repeated, the word almost incredulous. “That’s it?”

You shrugged, a mix of embarrassment and amusement bubbling in your chest.

Bradley leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice a low, teasing murmur. “Well, then... how about we find out together?”

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours again, and his hands began to explore, sliding over your sides and down to your thighs.

Bradley’s fingers moved to the hem of your shirt, his dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice steady but laced with anticipation.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

With deliberate care, he pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, his hands brushing against your skin as he did. The warmth of his touch lingered, sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze didn’t waver as it roamed over you, and the look in his eyes made you feel more seen—and more desired—than you ever had before.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice reverent but with an edge of heat that made your cheeks flush. His hands moved to the waistband of your jeans next, his thumbs hooking into the fabric as he paused to look at you again. “Still okay?”

You nodded again, your voice catching in your throat.

He made quick work of the button and zipper, easing the denim down your legs and leaving you in nothing but your bra and underwear. He straightened, his gaze sweeping over you as you lay back against the pillows.

“God,” he breathed, shaking his head slightly. “You’re so beautiful. No... you’re sexy.”

The compliment hit you like a spark, and for a moment, you wondered why you had never let yourself see Bradley like this before. He wasn’t just your dependable, loyal friend. He was this—sweet, confident, and undeniably attractive.

He knelt back down, his hands gently trailing up your thighs as he leaned in. “You tell me if there’s anything you don’t like,” he reminded you, his voice soft but firm.

“I will,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest.

His lips found your neck again, pressing gentle, lingering kisses against your skin. Then you felt his teeth graze your neck—a new sensation, one that sent a jolt through you. Before you could process it, he bit down gently, and you gasped, the sound escaping you unbidden.

You felt his lips curve into a smile against your skin. “You like that?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Do you want me to do it again? Do you want me to mark you?”

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching. “Yes. I want to be yours.”

The words barely left your lips before he leaned in again, his teeth sinking into your neck just enough to sting, followed by the soothing press of his mouth as he sucked on the tender skin. The sensation was unlike anything you’d felt before—electric, heady, and intimate. When he pulled away, you could feel the heat of his gaze as he admired the dark mark he’d left.

Bradley smirked, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face as he leaned in to kiss you. “Can’t wait to see what you look like with those all over,” he whispered, his tone filled with a promise that made your pulse race.

You couldn’t help but smirk back at him, a boldness blooming in your chest. “Where else do you want to put one?”

His eyes darkened with a mix of mischief and intent, and his smirk widened. Without another word, he lowered his head, his lips trailing along your collarbones before dipping lower, stopping just above your breasts.

He paused for a moment, looking up at you as if to ask for permission. You gave him a small nod, and he bit down again, his mouth working to leave another mark, this time on the skin between your breasts.

The sensation sent another wave of heat coursing through you, and when he pulled back, his expression was pure satisfaction as he admired his work.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough.

Bradley's hands slid up your sides, his thumbs grazing the edge of your bra. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, silently asking for permission. When you gave him a slight nod, he reached behind you with practiced ease, unhooking the clasp and gently sliding the straps down your shoulders.

The garment fell away, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his gaze filled with reverence and hunger that made your skin flush.

One of his hands moved to cup your breast, his palm warm against your skin as his fingers squeezed gently, exploring. The sensation was new, different, and surprisingly intoxicating. You couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped your lips as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your skin before his lips wrapped around one of your nipples.

The feeling sent a jolt of electricity through you. No one had ever paid much attention to your chest before; past partners had always been more focused elsewhere, making offhand comments about your body that left you feeling unbalanced. But this—Bradley’s touch, his mouth—was deliberate and consuming as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Then you felt his teeth, a brief, unexpected pressure that made you gasp, your back arching as you unconsciously pushed your chest further into his mouth.

Bradley hummed against you, his lips curving into a smirk as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive skin to soothe it.

“You like that,” he murmured, not as a question but a quiet declaration.

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, your voice too tangled in the haze of sensation to respond properly.

He didn’t wait for words. He pulled away, his lips leaving a trail of warmth as he shifted to your other breast. His hand replaced his mouth, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers while his lips found their target. This time, he didn’t hesitate, biting down gently but firmly, drawing another involuntary gasp from you.

The sound made something flicker in his eyes—satisfaction, excitement, and a hint of possessiveness. His tongue swept over the spot he’d bitten, his mouth working with a combination of suction and teasing flicks that had your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Bradley pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your skin as he looked up at you. “I love hearing those sounds you make,” he said softly, his voice a rough whisper that sent a shiver through you. His hands slid down to rest on your waist again, grounding you as his lips brushed a gentle kiss against the curve of your breast. “I’ve got so much more I want to show you.”

Bradley’s eyes never left yours as he slowly made his way down your body, his lips brushing over your skin with a slow, deliberate pace. His hands were gentle but firm, guiding you closer to the edge of something new and thrilling. When he finally positioned himself between your legs, his gaze flickered up to meet yours once more.

He smiled, a look of both excitement and admiration in his eyes. “I can’t wait to hear the sounds you make when I do thi,” he said, his voice low and husky. The weight of his words settled heavily between you, making your heart race.

You swallowed, your breath hitching slightly as he traced his fingers along your thighs, his touch light and teasing. His lips followed, pressing a soft kiss to one thigh before moving to the other, a trail of warmth in his wake. Then, with a careful touch, he slid your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, leaving you feeling exposed, but strangely safe in his hands.

He looked at you, his eyes dark with desire, before lowering himself further. The air between you two was thick with anticipation. His hands gently caressed your hips, grounding you as his lips finally reached your center.

The moment his mouth made contact, your body jolted with the sensation, a sharp intake of breath escaping you as you arched into him, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

Bradley was slow, methodical, taking his time to explore and bring you closer to the edge. Every touch, every movement was carefully tuned to your reactions. He wasn’t just trying to make you feel good—he wanted to know what made you tick, to learn the rhythm of your body in a way no one else had before.

Bradley’s focus never wavered as he continued his work, taking his time to explore, making sure every movement was deliberate and sure. Each kiss, each touch, each gentle caress sent shivers through your body, and you couldn’t stop the quiet gasps that escaped your lips as you reacted to him.

He shifted slightly, and his movements grew more confident. His lips found that sweet spot, the one that made your breath catch, and when he applied a little more pressure, a moan slipped from you—louder than you’d intended, and unmistakably full of need.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but then Bradley’s voice, low and full of approval, reached your ears.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips curling into a satisfied smile against your skin. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” He repeated the motion, coaxing another breathy moan from you. The sound was so raw, so genuine, it made him groan in return.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, your body arching further into him as the sensations built. “Bradley…” you moaned, almost too loudly, your eyes squeezing shut as a wave of heat coursed through you.

He growled in approval, the sound so deep that it sent a rush of excitement through your veins. “You sound so good, baby. Keep letting me know how you’re feeling.”

Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers threading through it, gripping him closer. The intensity in his gaze grew, and the way he praised you made you feel both empowered and desired in a way you’d never experienced before. You felt your body reacting to him, to his touch, to the way he made you feel so seen, so good.

Every movement he made, every sound you gave him, only fueled the connection between you two. This wasn’t just physical—it was raw, emotional, a dance of vulnerability and trust. And Bradley loved hearing you like this, loved knowing he was the one who could make you feel this way.

Every touch, every flick of his tongue, every deliberate movement made your entire body hum with need. You felt yourself coming undone, the sensations overwhelming as your breath hitched and your body responded to him.

Then, with one final, deliberate motion, Bradley pushed you over the edge. Your back arched as the release washed over you, your body trembling in waves of pleasure. A gasp escaped your lips, followed by a low moan, as the intensity of the moment left you breathless, unable to form words. It was the first time a guy had made you finish just with his mouth and hands, and it left you gasping, completely undone.

Bradley’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as he crawled back up the bed, his hands gently brushing the hair away from your face. His eyes were soft with affection, his gaze intense as he looked down at you, making sure you were okay.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice hushed, a mix of concern and pride.

You nodded, still panting slightly, the aftermath of the orgasm leaving you weak but content.

“Yeah,” you breathed, your voice unsteady. “I’m… I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

Bradley chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you gently, a tender contrast to the intensity of the moments before. “I’m glad I could give that to you,” he said, his voice warm and full of sincerity.

You smiled up at him, feeling a mix of vulnerability and comfort, knowing that this moment was something you’d never forget. His presence, the way he made you feel, was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before.

Bradley settled beside you, keeping you close, his hand resting on your waist as he held you. Bradley’s hand gently traced patterns on your skin as he settled next to you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

“So, what do you want to try next?” he asked, his voice low, a mix of curiosity and amusement.

You blinked up at him, feeling a newfound boldness. Without missing a beat, you shot him a playful smirk. “I want to ride you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment before Bradley’s eyes darkened, his breath hitching at the unexpectedness of your response. A grin spread across his face, his hands moving quickly as he pulled you on top of him, your bodies aligning with a hunger that was only growing.

“Damn, baby,” he groaned, the thought of you in control sending heat shooting through his veins.

You both shared a laugh, the playful tension still crackling in the air, before the moment turned more serious again. But this time, there was no question—the night was only just beginning.

#Bradley Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw Fic #Bradley Bradshaw Fanfic #Bradley Bradshaw Fanfiction #Bradley Bradshaw Fluff #Bradley Bradshaw x reader #Bradley Bradshaw x you #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw Fic #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw Fanfic #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw Fanfiction #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x reader #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x you #Bradley Bradshaw Smut #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw Smut

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imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper · 1 year ago

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Thinking about how when Gabriel did something nice for Beez (literally used a fucking miracle on a jukebox to make a song they liked play forever) he did it with no expectation that it would lead to anything nice for him in return. He did it just because he knew they liked the song and he thought it might make them happy. Thinking about how in return Beelzebub turned around and did him a favor immediately (a tardis fly like brooo) because they've never known kindness without a favor being expected in return. To which Gabe was so amazed and grateful because he never expected that!

They both literally fucking did the impossible in each other's eyes right then what the fuck of course they fall for each other holy shit.

#the word of grim #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #beelzebub good omens #gabriel good omens #ineffable bureaucracy #gabriel/beelzebub #ineffable bureaucrats

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somethinginthewayiam · 5 months ago

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The girl behind the bar (Part 3)

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: banter, fluffy Jake (if you squint)

words: 3.3k

Summary: Jake brings a date to the bar and she is not, well, the nicest person alive. Which is kind of expected of him but still annoying. Thankfully, Maverick convices Penny to close the bar early to sneak off and you close up. You start singing along to your playlist while you cleaned up, thinking you're alone at the bar...

a/n: The songs used in this chapter are Blue Eyes Forever by Charlotte OC and Ceilings by Lizzie McAlpine, if you want to listen to them while you read.

Link to my masterlist

"Can I play something for you, Darlin'?", Jimmy asked on his way to the storage room, passing the Jukebox. The bar had just opened and you and Jimmy were holding down the fort until Penny was supposed to come in later that evening.

"Could I have some Hall & Oates, please?", you mentioned with a smile. "I got you", the old man smiled and pressed some buttons on the old machine.

You make my dreams come true started playing.

"Oh Jimmy, you know me too well", you cooed at him, betting your eyelashes and shooting him a smile.

You started to sing along to yourself while you polished some glasses and put the beer from the box into the cooler. As you were crouched down, you didn't see a new patron approaching the bar.

"You make my dreams come true", you sang as you got up and suddenly found yourself face to face with a grinning Hangman.

"Only if you're a good girl", he said, accompanied with a cocky smile. "Barf", you said dryly and rolled your eyes.

You checked the big clock on the wall behind him. 5:10 PM. "It’s Tuesday, do you not have a job?", you simply asked.

"So, just anybody can give you a nickname but me?", he ignored your question and asked his own. For a second, you didn't know what he meant, but then you remembered that Jimmy had called you Darling just before. You were already so used to him calling you that.

"By god, she's got it! Good job, Eliza Doolittle", you mockingly cheered him on, booping his nose with your finger. He flicked your finger away like it was an annoying fly.

“What can I get you?”, you asked him. “The usual”, he simply stated and put his credit card on the counter, his typical sign to open his tab for the night. “So, a Tet-shot and the morning after pill for whoever fell for your bullshit?”, you suggested and gave him the sweetest smile. “What do you think of me?”, he asked playfully shocked, a hand on his chest.

“Only the worst”, you told him as you put the bottle of beer in front of him and the smile on your lips took the harshness out of your words. He shot you another wink as he grabbed his drink and left for the darts board.

You hated to admit it, even just to yourself, but your shift was always more fun when Hangman was around. Someone to look out for, someone to be excited to see. That this was all just one-sided wasn't even a question to you. Every time you felt that way about someone, as annoying as they might be, it was always one-sided. And even on the off chance it wasn't, you never dared to ask and nobody ever came forward. So, as always, you shot him another glance and kept on working.

Later that evening, the others arrived at the bar, too, as always gathering at the pool table. You brought over a trey of beers that the group had ordered.

"There you go. Phoenix, Fanboy, Bob, Coyote, and Eliza", you said as you placed the last beer in front of Hangman.

Fanboy almost did a spit-take as he had just taken a sip of his drink. "Excuse me, what?", Phoenix asked and she didn't do a great job at suppressing her laughter.

"Just a little inside joke we got, don't we, Lizzie?", you turned to Hangman. He chose to remain silent but the look he gave you let you know that you were gonna pay for that joke at some point.

But for now, you took the win of shutting him up.

For a Wednesday night it was surprisingly full at the bar and Jimmy was not in after requesting a sick-day. You and Penny had your hands fulfilling all the orders. Even though you had some practice by now, you were still lacking in speed compared to Penny.

You spotted your usual group at a table in the middle of the bar, letting other people play pool for once. But you noticed that Hangman was missing tonight. It was odd to you, but you didn’t think much of it.

Until he came in at around half past 9 with a tall blonde on his arm. She was dressed in an expensive-looking short dress and looked totally out of place between the khaki uniforms and informal clothing on all the other patrons. She looked like the type country club, my daddy bought me a horse for Christmas kind of girl. The Hard Deck was clearly Hangman’s idea, who was not wearing his khaki uniform for once but a black pair of jeans and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. If you didn’t already know him as part of the bar’s interior, you would also find his appearance here out of place.

Your eyes followed the pair to the table of Hangman’s colleagues, his date getting introduced to the others. They all exchanges polite smiles and hellos. When the woman sat down, she let her eyes wander over the place, looking a little disgusted. You could tell that this was not the place she thought the night would bring her to. She took off her cardigan and hung it over the back of her chair before she even attempted to lean back.

There was no use of prolonging the wait, you would have to get over there to take their order. Also, the glasses of the others looked rather empty as well. You took a deep breath and walked over to the full table.

“Welcome to the Hard Deck. What can I get you?”, you welcomed the woman and smiled at her politely. She looked up at you with an annoyed face. Her eyes let you know where your place in her world was. You were the help.

“Do you have anything here that costs more than 10 dollars?”, she asked and the tone in her voice could only be described as disgusted. “I can sell you everything for at a least twenty if you prefer it”, you commented, trying to knock her ego down a peg. It wasn’t like you didn’t have any practice with Hangman.

You heard some suppressed chuckles from the others but kept your eyes on Hangman’s date. “Excuse me? You better watch your tone or I’ll will have to talk to your manager”, she snapped at you. And she couldn’t take a joke. Great taste, Hangman.

You swallowed and took a moment to calm yourself before you spoke again. “I apologize. We have a very good Chardonay you might like, Karen”, you said to her instead but couldn’t help yourself at the end. Another round of chuckles behind you. “My name is not Karen, it’s Whitney”, she told you and her tone got more indignant. She looked over at Hangman, looking for support of her outrage.

“She will have the Chardonay and I’ll have a beer, please”, he said, ignoring his date. You nodded and then turned to the others. They ordered another round of drinks and you basically fled towards the bar.

Penny was overrun by a new group that had just entered the bar and you helped her out before you prepared the drinks for the table and brought them over there.

“Here’s your Chardonay”, you said and placed the glass of wine in front of the woman. “About time”, she only mumbled, no Thank you or even eye-contact. Lovely girl, you thought to yourself.

“Here’s your beer”, you placed the bottle in front of Hangman. “Thank you, Y/N”, he said and shot you a smile. You looked at him a little weirded out. The please before was already a little out of character for him.

“What?” he asked innocently. “Nothing, you’re just weirdly nice”, you simply said and kept placing the drinks in front of the guys. “I’m always nice”, he countered and a little mischievous glimpse was back in his eyes as he followed your round around the table. “Oh yeah, I’m always so touched by the empathy you display every time you’re here”, you said and put a hand over your heart, pouting your lips, holding the empty trey in your free hand and letting it hang down your side.

Whitney watched your exchange with a watchful eye and put her hand on his thigh, seemingly displaying some sort of ownership. “Do you come here often, Jakey?”, she asked the man to her left, a warning tone in her voice not to say the wrong thing. Whatever that may be. You and Phoenix exchanged a glance over the heads of the others, both of you biting down a smile.

“No, Darling, only when these knuckleheads drag me here. They can’t have fun without me”, Jake told her and she seemed satisfied with his answer. “We drag him here?”, Coyote whispered to Payback, who was sitting right in front of where you stood.

“It’s true, he’s not here often, but he certainly leaves an impression”, you chimed in before anyone could say something. Hangman looked up at you and you couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you to say something compromising or silently thanking you for having his back in this lie.

“Alright, just yell for me if you need anything else”, you said and finally left their table. It was getting uncomfortable and you were glad that you had a good reason to get out of there. After looking at some of the faces of the guys you could tell that they were just as uncomfortable.

“Come on, Penny. We’ll just sneak out of here”, you heard Maverick say as you came back to the bar circle. “I can’t just leave, not when it’s that packed”, you heard your boss answer but the tone of her voice let you know that she actually wanted to.

“I can finish the evening”, you just entered their conversation and they both shot up like they were planning some secret mission. “No, you can’t handle this many people on your own”, Penny said and took a look at the still pretty well filled bar. “No offense”, she quickly added. “None taken, you’re probably right”, you said and scanned the bar as well. “But you can close early”, you suggested.

“That’s right”, Maverick agreed and you both looked at Penny with raised eyebrows. Your boss looked at your faces and chewed her bottom lip. “It’s your place, you run the show”, Maverick added. You nodded agreeingly. You also wouldn’t mind to get off early. “I’ll clean up, I can definitely manage that”, you offered. “She’ll clean up”, Maverick repeated. Penny contemplated for a few more moments, then she sighed defeatedly.

“Okay, I’ll close early”, she gave in and you and Maverick high-fived. Penny walked over to the bell and rang it. “Last call!”, she shouted and a common groan erupted from the crowd. “Alright, settle down. It’s still my bar”, she added and waved off their protests.

While you were handing out the last drinks of the night, Penny asked repeatedly if you were okay to close up on your own and you waved it off. “I’m working here, aren’t I? And I have to learn sometime. You don’t always want to stay ‘til last call, don’t you?”, you said. She answered you with a smile and handled the register.

When everybody was finally out and Penny had left with Mav, you were suddenly alone. It was weirdly quiet compared to before when the room was filled with people. So, you took out your phone and put on your Spotify playlist while you started to clean up.

You collected glasses and bottles from all over the place. You even found a cardigan on the chair that Hangman’s date was sitting on. You grabbed it to put it behind the bar for when she came back for it. It was a warm night though, so she probably wouldn't notice right away. The urge to wipe the counter with it was almost overwhelming. Instead of following the urge, you placed it somewhere safe as it looked expensive and was probably worth more than your month’s salary.

You continued cleaning up and started to sing along to the song that was currently playing. It was Blue Eyes Forever by Charlotte OC, one of your favorites.

“But when we talk in the middle, in the middle of the night. Oh, we get closer every time. But when we meet in the middle, I feel the clarity rise. Oh, it moves over, straight from your eyes”, you sang as you put the glasses in the basket for the dishwasher. It wasn’t like singing Karaoke with friends or the impromptu concert with Rooster a couple of weeks ago. You got really into it since you were all alone and nobody could hear you.

“Blue eyes forever, oh oh oh. Blue eyes forever, oh oh oh”, you kept singing and grabbed the dishtowel to wipe down the counter

“I actually have green eyes”, you heard from the door and you jumped in surprise. You spun around to where the voice had come from only to find Jake Hangman Seresin of all people standing there.

Shit, did he hear you sing? He must have. Why else would he say that?

“Jesus Christ, you scared me”, you said as you put a hand over your heart that was racing like crazy. You turned away from him again, seemingly to finish wiping off the counter and putting the damp towel back in the small sink behind the bar. You mostly needed a moment to collect yourself. You felt so embarrassed that he had heard you sing. You thought you were all alone for the rest of the night, singing like you only did when you thought no one would hear you.

You heard his steps coming closer, resting his underarms on the bar top when he arrived across from where you were standing. You turned down the music on your phone.

“You have a beautiful voice”, he said and as much as you looked for it in his face, you couldn’t find any hint of mockery. Hangman and an honest compliment? Were you in the Upside Down?

“Thanks”, you said, still startled, and blushed a bit. “What are you doing here? We’re closed”, you asked, still in disbelief that he was nice to you. “My date forgot her cardigan”, he finally disclosed why he was back here so soon. “Ah, and she doesn’t put out if she doesn’t have her precious cardigan?”, you said and a smile creeped on your face, revealing the joke. “The chances are better with it”, he answered, also with a smile, indicating that he wasn’t here purely out of a gentlemanly gesture.

“I’ve got it here”, you said and walked the few steps over to where you put it for safe keeping. You handed him the garment and when he took it from you, his fingertips brushed along your fingers. You were sure he didn’t even notice it, but it sent an electric jolt up your arm.

As soon as he had it in his hand, you pulled your arm back, putting your other hand over the one Jake had just touched, folding it in front of you. Your fingers still tingled. You almost rolled your eyes at yourself for this stupid reaction.

“Thank you”, he said, glad that it hadn’t got lost somewhere else. “Now you can be her knight in shining armor when you bring back her precious cardigan”, you said with a chuckle and grabbed the broom from behind you. You came around the bar to sweep up the peanut shells that were scattered all over the floor. “And you’re Cinderella?”, he asked jokingly, nodding at the broom. “Yeah, well, there are other balls, I’ll dance another time”, you said with a shrug of your shoulders and a light smile.

Jake looked at you for a moment before he lifted his hand for a goodbye. “I’ll see you around, have a good night”, he said. “Yeah, you too”, you answered.

You didn’t wait for him to leave the room, you turned around and turned the music louder on your phone again. Your playlist had kept playing while you talked to Jake. Now it played Ceilings by Lizzie McAlpine, a slow song. The mood to sing along was gone anyway, you were too afraid someone else would show up again.

You started moving the broom over the floor but you only managed to get about three sweeps in before you felt a hand on your shoulder. When you looked up, it was Jake again. Without saying a word, he took the broom out of your hands and leaned it against the bar.

He grabbed your right hand with his left and put his right hand on your lower back. You looked at him with big eyes, too stunned to speak.

“You get your dance now, Cinderella”, he winked at you and started to sway you to the slow music. With his hand on your back, he pushed you closer to him and slowly moved both of you in a circle.

You were aware of every single spot where your bodies touched, beginning with his big, warm hand clasping yours. You were afraid he could hear how fast your heart was pounding.

He removed his hand from your back only to have you spin around which made you giggle lightly and then pull you back in, even closer this time. He put his hand which was holding yours against his chest, pulling your arm with his. He put his hand on top of yours which meant your hand was placed directly on his heart. You felt how hard his peck was beneath his shirt and swallowed. You looked up only to find those green eyes of his looking down at you. He held your gaze while he moved your bodies slowly from side to side. His hand on your back slid a little lower but you almost didn’t notice it because you were so hypnotized by his eyes. Almost.

“Bedsheets, no clothes. Touch me like nobody else does” came out of the speakers of your phone and you suddenly became very aware of the lyrics of the song. It made you swallow hard. You wanted to look away but you couldn’t. Did he notice the lyrics, too?

His fingertips felt like they were burning through your shirt, leaving permanent marks on your skin. Instinctively, you licked your lips. Jakes eyes darted down to your mouth and back up to your eyes. He seemed lost in thought for a moment.

You both got snapped out of your stare as the broom fell over and hit the floor with a loud bang.

As soon as the moment had come, it was over again. The song drained out as the two of you stopped moving. Like you were both snapping back to reality, you let go of each other.

You opened your mouth and inhaled to say something but you didn’t know what, so you closed it again. Was a Thank you appropriate? Did that mean anything? Did he just want to be nice? But Hangman wasn’t nice. Your head was spinning as all kinds of thoughts invaded your brain.

Hangman looked at you for a second longer, then turned around, grabbed his date’s cardigan off the bar top and left the bar for good this time.

With shaky hands you grabbed the broom off the floor and held on to it for dear life. Your heart was still pounding rapidly. You weren’t even sure if it had actually happened or if it was just a day-dream of yours if it wasn’t for the hand you still felt on your back like an echo. That was something you couldn’t dream up.

Next chapter: Part 4.1

#jake hangman seresin #the girl behind the bar #jake hangman seresin x plus-size reader #topgun maverick #glen powell #glen powell imagine #jake hangman seresin imagine #glen powell fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #topgun maverick fanfiction

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oneforthemunny · 1 year ago

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knight in shining leather |bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader|

prompt: based off this ask- heyy!! i was reading you bouncer eddie series and i love it so much :((((. if you take requests could you maybe do a little blurb of reader being bothered by a creep and eddie being the knight in shining leather that he is helps her. this is such a lame plot i'm sry. pls just write anything for bouncer eddie when you have the time it would be so cool!! sending hugs

reposting from my deleted blog <3

contains: possessive!eddie, jealous!eddie, a little dark!eddie not towards reader, creepy men, cat calling, language, oral fem & male rec, throat fucking, squirting, rough p in v sex, hickeys, creampie. minors dni.

It was a slow night at The Hideout, especially for a Friday. All the college kids had gone back to school for the spring, and it was too cold for others to venture out, snow and ice covering the ground. But in any weather, you could always count on your regulars showing up on Friday nights. The regulars, who would ski if they had to, to make it down to the bar nestled in downtown Hawkins.

It was you, Eddie, and Ellen for the night. Tony and Valerie had shown up, but cut earlier with the lack of customers. You were bartending, taking care of the familiar patrons, while Ellen was the manager on duty for now, helping clean and keep the jukebox rolling. Eddie was at the door, in all black of course, tight beanie around his head to fight the cold, wild curls flying out around his face.

"Can I get another sweetheart?" Roy slurred from the other end of the bar, shaking his empty glass your way. You smiled, grabbing another glass, tilting it to stop the foam as you filled the beer.

You added beer number five to his tab before sliding it to him, switching the full glass out for his empty. "Your friends not joining you tonight?" You asked him, wiping the counter down with the spare rag.

Roy blew air out his mouth. "No, pieces of shits bailed on me. Can ya believe that?"

You giggled, getting his a fresh bowl of peanuts. "That's tough. Sounds like you need some new friends." You chided in cheery, playful conversation, filling another glass for the man on the other end who indicated he wanted one.

"You wanna be my friend, baby?" Roy blubbered, eyes glazed with a sloppy smile.

You snorted, lifting a brow at Roy. "Depends how much you tip tonight." You shot back with a tight lipped smile, walking to serve your other customer.

Roy howled, slapping the wooden top of the bar, nearly falling out of his stool. Eddie looked over, face stoic, hard, like it always was when he was working. He needed to be tough, or at least appear to be, especially with this crowd.

They were harmless, usually, drunks that liked to spend their hard-earned dollars tossing booze down their throats. Sometimes, they'd get a little out of hand. Eddie would have to intervene or call them a cab.

Eddie turned when the door opened, the frigid, biting wind of the night slipping in with the person who opened it. Eddie looked at the ID the man presented, but he really didn't need to; the guy looked Wayne's age.

"There a cover tonight?" The man asked, eyes already blood shot, swaying in his snow covered work boots.

Eddie shook his head. "Nah, not tonight."

The man nodded, stumbling over to Roy, clapping the man loudly on the back. The two had a rather loud, slurring reunion, stumbling in and out of stools. Ellen cut her eyes from you then back to Eddie, rolling her eyes.

Eddie's lips pressed in a tight line, looking over at you, the way you smiled, laying down a coaster, leaning forward on the bar to get his order.

"What's good here, huh, angel?" The man slurred back at you.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "Well, your friend here likes our draft." You motioned to Roy. "But that'll depend what you're in the mood for."

"I'm in the mood for something tasty." The man licked his lips, eyeing you. "You on the menu?"

You did scoff at the comment. "No, but I make a mean old fashioned. You want one of those? Or are you more of a light liquor kinda guy?" You asked, trying to shift the conversation and get away from him. He wasn't a regular, you weren't sure about him.

"I'm whatever kinda guy you want me to be, baby." He grinned all sloppy, swaying towards you. "Make me whatever you want."

You nodded, rolling your eyes when you walked away. You closed out a tab for another before starting his. You smiled at the customer, Johnny, when you handed him his tab, thanking him when he left you his usual 20% tip.

Eddie watched you carefully, nodding at the two leaving with a tiny smile. You reached for your bourbon, bending over to grab a glass out of the bottom shelf.

The man beside Roy let out a loud, ear piercing wolf whistle, cackling into the other man after. You felt a cold prick run down your spine, face flushing.

"Goddam, baby, I'll have you make as many drinks as you want if you stay bent over like that!" The man whooped. "Get to see that ass all night. No wonder you love this place so much, Roy!" He laughed, slamming his hand on the bar, so the glass jumped.

"Hey, easy there," Ellen warned, raising a brow at the two. "Roy get your friend under control."

Roy nodded, lifting a hand in apology, as the other guy bristled, eyes narrowing to focus, teeth gritting and snarling. "'M not doin' anything wrong, you fuckin' bitch. Stay outta it." He snarled.

You felt your heart hammer, looking at Ellen then at Eddie. Eddie stood, fists clenched as he walked, slow and purposeful behind the two, heavy boots clanking on the wooden, creaky floors.

"Hey, watch it, man," Eddie growled. "Settle down or get the fuck out."

The man turned, swaying slightly, looking at Eddie before scoffing, turning back to you. "Hey sugar tits, you got my drink, honey?" He slurred.

"I'm finishing it up." You said slowly, warily looking at Ellen to see if she'd give you the cut off sign. "Tryna make sure it's perfect."

"If it's coming' from you, I'm sure it is." He smirked.

He looked at Roy, nudging the man drunkly before pushing his coaster purposefully off the counter. "Whoops." He laughed, snorting slightly. "Hey, sexy baby, could you pick that up for me? Ole klutz over here knocked it over." He clapped Roy on the back.

Eddie's jaw grit tight, looking at you then the man. He could feel his blood boiling already, hands tingling from the way he had them clenched. You looked at Eddie, rolling your eyes and walking to where the coaster fell, bending over and picking it up.

The man whistled again, clapping his hands as you flushed, furious and embarrassed. "Goddam, baby, you gonna keep teasing me like that?" He asked, laughing and leaning towards you. "Stick that pretty little ass out for me one more time, huh? Better yet, come over here and let me see it. Or do I need to drop something again?"

"Alright," Ellen snapped, walking towards the two men. "They're gone. Eddie, get them outta here."

Eddie was already stepping towards them. Roy's face dropped slightly as the other snarled. "The fuck you kickin' us out for?" He snapped. "I haven't even got my goddam drink!"

"Yeah, and you're not gettin' one." Eddie growled. "Out. Now. Before I have to make you." He threatened, boasting his chest to intimidate the older man. Sure, he could take him, drunk and old he wouldn't be an issue.

Roy apologized to you, drunk but sincere, holding his hands up as he tried to coax his friend. The man snarled. "The fuck you gonna do, huh?" He snapped at Eddie. "You gonna... you gonna make me leave, huh, pussy boy?" He laughed mockingly in Eddie's face.

He turned back to you, snarling and mean. "Dumb bitch, 's your fuckin' fault. Walking' around like a goddam whore, just asking' for it, then when you get it you don't want it, huh?" He spat, angry.

Eddie's hands were on his shoulders, yanking him out of the stool. The man fell to his knees, groaning in pain before Eddie had him back up, shoving him out the door.

Eddie pushed the drunken man out the door and into the snowbank on the sidewalk, and he would've smirked when the man groaned in pain if he wasn't so furious. Roy was still inside, covering the tab and apologizing to Ellen and you.

Eddie looked down at the drunk man, trying to twist and move out of the freezing snow. "The fuck you-you-"

Eddie bent down, pushing him back on the ground, teeth bared and a grip on his collar, dangerously close to his neck. His rings were cold, biting against the man's jugular. "I better never see you here or near her again, you understand?" He growled.

The man stammered, lifting his hands gently. Eddie slammed him harder into the ground, the snow sinking around his head. "Understand?"

"Yes, fuck, yes!" The man stuttered. "Jesus, fuck, I-I don't wanna come back here anyways!"

Eddie snarled, shoving him slightly before standing up. "Good." He bit. "Now get the fuck outta here." He turned around, leaving the man to get out of the icy ground.

He nodded curtly to Roy as he left, not listening to his apologies. He was fuming, buzzing, adrenaline shaking and rattling his bones. His jaw still ground together, eyes not meeting yours though he could feel them on him. He needed to calm down before he did.

Ellen came over, checking on him, and checking to make sure they were gone, before patting him on the back. "Go have a drink." She nodded towards the bar. "As soon as these two leave, we'll call it a night, huh? Think that's enough excitement for us all."

Eddie stomped over to the bar where you watched him from the other side, eyes rounded to meet him. "Thank you," You whispered.

Eddie nodded. "Anytime, baby," He grinned, but it didn't meet his eyes.

He was still angry, not at you, but at that disgusting fucker. Who the fuck did he think he was, talking to Eddie's girl like that, talking to you?

You poured him a beer, cutting an orange and placing it on his glass. Eddie sipped it slowly, the tingle in the back of his throat mixed with the alcohol calmed him slightly. You smiled at him, squeezing his hand gently when Ellen wasn't looking, before checking on the other two that still remained at the other end of the bar.

The night moved slow. No one else came in. The final people left, letting you cash out for the night. Eddie helped you stack chairs, while Ellen unplugged the jukebox, the three of you walking to the back where you parked.

Eddie had just climbed in the van, barely putting the key in the ignition to roll over the engine when you pounced on him. Hands on either side of his face, pressed against his side, lips attaching to his, hard and needy like he was your life line.

Eddie faltered for a moment, movements stuttering before he kissed you back, his own hands finding your waist, the back of your neck, pulling you as close to him as you could.

Eddie's brows furrowed when you pulled back, eyes canning your face, your rounded eyes, blown pupils, bottom lip ticked between your teeth. "What was that for?" Eddie asked, shocked, amused.

You shrugged, placing your hand over the zipper of his jeans. "I dunno, just a thank you, I guess." You grinned, eyes batting at him. "For saving me tonight. My hero." You purred, squeezing him through the rough fabric of his jeans, grinning when he groaned low and throaty.

Eddie flew over the icy roads, squirming under your touch the entire way. You palmed him gently, slowly, pressing kisses up and down his neck, shoulder, collarbone, cheek. Nuzzling your nose against him before trailing the tip of your tongue down his exposed skin.

You were throbbing between your legs, had been since Eddie had grabbed the man so aggressively- so protectively. The adrenaline and sheer primeness of it all made you soak, your head reeling and fuzzy as you fumbled through the rest of your shift. He had done that for you, was protective over you.

You and Eddie stumbled through his trailer, his boot shutting the door behind him, teeth gnashing, lips mushing, hands roaming and groping. You pushed Eddie back onto the couch by his sternum, dropping to your knees, hands fumbling to undo his belt and zipper.

Eddie grinned, brows lifted in amusement. Gone was the anger, the disrespect he felt from that man. He worried that you would be hurt, upset by what he said, maybe even angry at him for being so rough. Instead, here you were, ready to jump his bones, needy and aching all for him.

"Easy, baby," Eddie muttered, ringed hands finding your hair as you freed him frantically from his boxers.

Your soft hands held his cock, thick and long, oozing already from your teasing touches in the car. You wasted no time licking a long stripe up the base to his tip, swirling the salty pre-cum around your tongue over the head. Eddie groaned, head tilting back against the couch cushions.

You pumped his length, sucking what you could of the thick head down your throat. "Atta girl, that's my girl, fuck," Eddie groaned, gripping your hair a little tighter so you whimpered, vibrations tickling down his shaft to his sac making him tense, bucking gently in your mouth.

You gagged gently at the intrusion and Eddie let out a near pornographic moan. "Fuck, baby, can I- shit- can I fuck your throat? Please?" He begged, half lidded and lust filled.

You clenched your legs, nodding with his cock still in your mouth as he grinned down at you. That's how you ended up, head lolling off the arm of the couch, mouth open and gripping Eddie's thighs as he thrusted into your throat, relishing in how you gagged and swallowed.

"Fuck, baby, you're doing so good for me. You're such a good girl, aren't you? Good little girl." Eddie praised, eyes pinched close in pleasure.

Tears pricked your eyes, breathing slow to try and match his pace, nails digging into his hairy thighs. Eddie's abs clenched, pulling out of you slowly, before fisting himself.

He moved so his balls were in your face, heavy and hitting your nose, but you knew what he wanted, instinctively sucking them gently, tongue rolling over the skin.

Eddie's breath stuttered, grunting as he jacked himself quicker, leaning over you. "'M gonna cum, baby. Just like that, oh fuck, just like that. 'M-" Eddie groaned before you felt the hot spurts on your chest, your tummy.

Eddie's chest heaved, hunched over you, bracing himself with the back of the couch. You looked up at him, eyes meeting his through his curly bangs.

Eddie grinned at you, reaching down to kiss you, hard. He didn't waste time walking around to the other end of the couch, pulling you by your legs so your hips were on the arm of the couch, kneeling down to kiss your inner thighs with sloppy, wet kisses.

You moaned, arms above your head as you grabbed at the couch, back arching when Eddie licked a long, fat stripe through your folds, circling around your clit.

"Oh!" You whined, clenching when he kitten licked your clit, one hand on your lower tummy, pressing gently, the other adding a finger and pumping slowly in and out of you.

Normally, he'd tease you. get you whiny, teary-eyed, the way it drove him crazy, but not tonight. He was urgent, needy, devouring you from the inside out like a madman.

You felt it building quickly, the sweet release that threatened to take over you any minute. The way Eddie was sucking, nibbling at your achy clit, his long fingers curling and pumping at a much faster pace, mixed with his other hand pressing on your tummy; you knew you were going to soak him, flood him.

You writhed, hips wiggling to get away, the pleasure overwhelming. Eddie knew just how to work you, toy with your body to get it to do exactly what he wanted. Your eyes rolled back, hands pressing against his hand, but it wouldn't budge.

Eddie rolled your clit between his lips, licking gently while his fingers curled, pressing hard down on your lower belly. You cried out, back arching, legs pushing against his back as you gushed around his fingers, spewing all over him, all over the couch.

Eddie grinned, the squelch of wet liquid around his fingers as he pumped into you still was a melody, your cries and moans music to him. Eddie watched as you bucked, then slowed, legs falling and giving out, melting into the couch with heavy breaths.

Eddie licked you once more, the sweetness of your release making his eyes roll back. He stood over you, wiping his wet, shiny mouth with the back of his hand and you whimpered, legs snapping shut, throbbing again.

He was on top of you in an instant, hands on wither side of your head holding him up. Lips on yours, tongue swirling around your mouth so you could taste your release on him. He kissed down your jaw, neck, collarbones, chest, sucking large bruises as he went. He wanted everyone to see them, to know that you were his.

You moaned, legs wrapping around his waist, hands in his hair as he sucked deep bruises into your tits, biting and sucking at them, then rolling your nipples in his mouth, teeth grazing them slightly so you yelped.

He pushed himself into you without warning, rutting into you fast, hard, deep strokes that had you gasping, clawing down his back, feet dug into the meat of his ass.

Eddie pressed his face into your neck, sucking and nipping the already sensitive skin, marking it up even more. Your eyes rolled back, bodies rubbing together, chaffing skin to skin.

"Fuck, gonna cum inside you, that ok?" Eddie grunted, his nose nuzzling your cheek, lips pressing sloppy kisses to your flushed skin.

You nodded, gripping his arms, biceps bulging in your hands. You drooled at the definition, the inked skin firm and prominent next to you. Eddie snapped his hips flush against yours, smirking when you cried out, burying your face into his neck to try and muffle the pathetic cries falling from your lips.

Eddie snapped his hips a few more time, clenching with a grunt when he spilled inside you. He kept himself inside you as he rode out his high, long, deep breaths, his mouth hovering over your shoulder. You were barely holding onto him, legs still wrapped loosely around him, head swimming with feeling and fullness of him.

Eddie pulled back, brushing his bangs back so he could look at you. Marked up and bruised, mouth shaped red marks all over your neck and chest. He trailed his finger down your neck, over the well of your breasts where he really bit down.

"'M sorry, baby." He muttered to you, cupping your cheek with his hand. He hadn't asked to do that, cleared it with you, and the guilt was setting in. Girlfriends in the past were furious with him when he'd mark them like that, angry that they'd have to cover them up, and he didn't blame them.

You smiled softly, tucking your chin down to look at the damage. "It's alright." You whispered, tired. "I can cover them it's alright."

Eddie shook his head, pressing a kiss to your lips. "I should've asked. I can put a coupla spoons in the freezer. That trick worked in high school-"

He moved out of you, not caring that you were oozing him on the worn fabric of the couch, his cock softer and covered in both your spend. You catch his hand gently, thumb running over his rough knuckles. "Eddie, it's ok. I promise." Your eyes shone up at him, warm and gooey in your own afterglow.

Eddie hesitated. "It's ok." You reassured, bringing his hand to your lips brushing them feathery light over his knuckles. "I-I liked it." You blushed at the admission, nuzzling your nose into his hand to hide your giddy smile.

Eddie's eyes lit up, cupping your jaw with his hand, lifting your gaze to his. He cocked his head to the side, dopey grin on his face. "Yeah? You liked it?" He asked. You nodded. "You like it when I mark you up, huh? Want everyone to know who you belong to?"

You bit your lips, legs shifting uncomfortably. The dull ache between your legs was still there. Eddie knelt down so his nose was touching yours, an intense look in his eyes. "Who do you belong to?" He whispered, sending shockwaves down your spine, shivering against the couch.

Eddie pressed his lips towards yours so they were barely touching, hairs of his bangs tickling your forehead and eyelashes, sweaty against your skin. "Who do you belong to, baby?"

You squirmed against his gaze, feeling a little vulnerable, a little electric with the way he was looking right through you. "You." You whispered, your bottom lip brushing his, leaning in to kiss him.

Eddie pulled back slightly, his hand on your jaw. "Say it again." His eyes were dark again, lust blown, intense.

You shivered, legs clamping together and you could feel him still running out of you, creating a puddle under you. "You, Eddie," You whispered, eyes rounding into his gaze. "I'm yours, Eddie."

Eddie grinned, teeth bared and grip on your jaw tightening just slightly. "That's fuckin' right." He muttered, lips crashing into yours. He moved so you were halfway off the couch, holding onto him for leverage, his grip secure on you. "All mine." He nipped at your bottom lip, dragging it between his teeth.

Eddie moved so he was on the couch, long legs crowding on either side of your hips. He pulled you up gently by your arms, so you were in between his legs, curls ticking your cheeks when he kissed you again. He laid back slowly so you were on top of him, hands gripping your waist, your hips, anywhere he could grab and squeeze.

"My turn now." Eddie grinned, wiggling playfully underneath you. "Mark me up, baby. Show the world I'm yours."

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #funsonmunson #bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader #bouncer!eddie munson #bouncer!eddie #eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you

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conretewings · 2 years ago

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Don't imagine ducking into the Last Drop about closing time to find it quiet and peaceful for once, the old jukebox still going softly

The oddly inviting scent of old wood, with the faint traces of alcohol, age, and a metallic tinge pulls you further in

Don't imagine looking to see Vander sprawled in a booth, arms across the seat back, his pipe sending wisps of smoke skyward and heavy brow crooked curiously

He rests easily yet powerfully, his posture both vulnerable and intimidating, like a lion or wolf surveying his territory

Those gorgeous steel-blue eyes, the ones you secretly adore, study and entrap you and you find yourself temporarily frozen

"'Aven't seen ya around in a while, love. What brings ya in tonight?"

Don't imagine his voice like honeyed bourbon, deep and smooth but burning through you and sending sparks flying up your spine

You stutter out an apology for coming in so late and whirl to leave but-

"Ey! Where ya goin'? I'm still open, it's pourin' out, and 'sides, I could use the company."

You thank him, trying not to stare as he braces his hands on his knees to stand, the thick muscles of his arms on display

He goes around behind the bar to grab a bottle and two glasses, then returns to the booth, and to your surprise gestures for you to join him

Time passes easily, too quickly as you treasure this, chatting and sipping the liquor, some sort of high-quality stuff, the kind that goes right to your veins

Those veins that are now on fire with how he's gazing at you

When did you two move so close?

Don't imagine him casually putting an arm around you to pull you in fully

"It's gettin' chilly. Why don't ya come 'ere?"

Definitely don't imagine him giving you a devious grin, or reaching out to gently grasp your chin, his large thumb swiping your bottom lip

You feel like you'll burst into flame at this point and you've never wanted something more than the promise those eyes held

"Ya know...I've always liked ya. Was kinda hopin' we'd get a chance like this..."

Don't imagine resting your hand on his face, your heart hammering like a wild thing as you silently all but beg him to do it

Don't imagine his lips meeting yours, that flame roaring to life and you inhale sharply

He tastes faintly of bitter tobacco and the sweet liquor and you've never had something so wonderfully intoxicating

Don't imagine tangling your fingers in his thick, surprisingly soft hair, involuntarily letting out a soft groan as his tongue swipes across yours

He pulls back, cradling your jaw with one hand while the other grasps your thigh, a downright devilish grin on his slightly flushed face

And definitely don't imagine him murmuring, "Well then...now that we're on the same page, where this goes t'night is up to you, darlin'..."

@immortalbumblebee @archerofthemists @barbersjoy @band--psycho @vander-affectionate

#vander arcane #arcane vander #vander x reader #gn reader #arcane vander x reader #vander imagines #arcane imagines #vander smut #shameless self indulgence #look this was in my head so I had to share #god I want this man so bad it's embarrassing

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ineffableigh · 1 year ago

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Thinking a lot about some memory parallels in season two...

About how everyone in Soho is dressed VERY ANACHRONISTICALLY, but not at all coordinated with each other. Clothes look pristine, brand new, unsullied, unworn. Caricatures of humans from the 40s, 70s, 90s, 2000s. Like an oversimplified idea of what Normal Humans look like.

Like uhhh excuse you white fur coat, leopard print skirt and platform shoes? Weird BRIGHT FUCKING YELLOW shirt, a flowy vest and leather pants? 70s crochet sweater with brown pants, crimped hair and chunky heels?

Rosie the Riveter This lady (Rosie is a different extra!) over here is either wearing big flowy skirts or actual mechanic's overalls like the war posters. She's EVERYWHERE throughout the season:

Rainbow tie dye, big hat, overcoat with pinback buttons? Like the guys in the cemetery?

Lady why are you fully lurking behind a pillar and staring at the Hamm Hams

What's my point? Point is... point is...

Gabriel's memories are the same.

RUSSIA - big hammer and sickle neon sign outside, two guys in back playing chess, one with a big bushy beard and the other a flat cap. Background music sounds like traditional/folk Russian music played on a balalaika, but playback on a ratty old stereo.

USA - Route 66 sign, hubcaps, money wallpaper, budweiser neon sign, bar/pool table/pool cues, American flags fluttering in the wind outside, 50s style radio on the shelf, SAME TWO GUYS IN BACK but now playing cards, and the one on the right has a baseball cap instead. And I don't wanna be like "what modern bar would be playing Buddy Holly on the radio" but... after hearing the background music in the Russian cafe, that is a CHOICE.

Hell, check out Not-Billie-Piper back here and her GIANT 50s up-do:

SAME THING AT THE RESURRECTIONIST, YEAH? ALL THE SONGS ON THE JUKEBOX ARE SCOTTISH OR PERTAINING TO SCOTLAND. "Letter from america" by the PRoclaimers starts playing but it was released in fucking 1987

And of course we know this pub is COVERED in Pressburger references, which we know carry way more meaning than simple fun cameos or whatever. Barring that, this is the Scottishest-Pub-est-looking-pub I've ever fucking seen, and it's SO CLEAN.

A fly IN the movie playing on the screen while we watch Gabriel's memories being returned to him from the fly he receives in this memory? More likely than you think (I can't find the movie name! Not in the X-Ray apparently)...

Anyway all that to say I think the show is trying to tell us SOMETHING is wrong the entire season. There's evidence shit's out of order, everything is WEIRD and high saturation, even people's makeup (Crowley's bloody orange half the time), and it all feels Extremely Set up...

OR poorly remembered.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #my brain hurts #IneffabLeigh's Meta Tag

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aquelondungeonmaster · 2 months ago

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YOU NEVER SHOULD SETTLE FOR THE LIFETIME THAT IS HANDED TO YOU! / THERE'S ALWAYS A LINE TO BE CUT AND SOMEONE TO BARREL THROUGH!

Feast or Famine - Team Starkid

if i don't finish my last piece or if the posting period is already over then this is my last submission for @mcyt-jukebox-bonanza! although, i'll post that last piece when i finish it either way. anyhow. Secret Rivals! What a series. Death game extraordinaire; when I realized that no one else was doing this song + series combo I had to do something about it. Even if that something was "get fairly good at drawing hands".

More rambling under the cut because there are a lot of details squished into this one.

Small details I like:

The orange line is snapped because of the lyric "there's always a line to be cut and someone to barrel through" and the chain of connections for orange being broken by the sabotage book.

The chef hat on the orange text represents whiskington obviously. The skull next to the purple text is about the boneheads. obviously.

I tragically realized midway through that I should have also given Cake paws but the hand I drew looked good enough that I decided to keep it anyway. Spicy's Thicc Blue skin is a fursuit while Scruffy's i don't actually know what that character is skin is not. oops all the furries are next to each other, but they kind of have to be

Oh yeah the order the hands are arranged in alternates by team, in order of known teammate assignments.

Quote's flying battery zone skin is power armour i think.

Drawing hands at weird angles and then continuing the arm enough to make it make sense is really hard actually.

#wow my art #secret rivals #cheese grater iii #i should tag everyone but i will maybe come back and do that later #mcyt #a-post-lon

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wordywarriorwrites · 7 months ago

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Calendar Girl: October

Series Masterlist: Calendar Girl Joel Miller Masterlist Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: The story of how Joel Miller falls in love again, told over a series of months. Series Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language. Violence. Discussions of rape and consent. Alcohol consumption. Age-gap. Chapter Warning: Mention of suicide.

A crack of billiard balls and the shuffle of cards. A clink of mugs and the rattle of ice. Raucous laughter and Ain’t No Mountain High Enough on the jukebox.

Joel closed his left eye, and when the board came into focus, he let the dart fly. It hit the bullseye again, and he clenched his fist in triumph as he moseyed past his brother and retrieved his missiles – all three of which had been clustered neatly together.

“How the hell do you do that?” Tommy groused as he sipped his beer.

“Hearin’s bad. Sight’s just fine,” he quipped as he handed the darts over.

As the jukebox ticked over to Back in Black, Tommy lined up his feet, and took his turn, which hadn’t gone nearly as well as Joel’s. Still, they played until it became clear Joel would win no matter what, and since neither of them had been ready to call it a night, they agreed to play cards, and snagged a table as soon as one was free.

“How’s the kid?” Joel asked as Tommy shuffled.

“Teethin’, crawlin’, and shittin’ cowpies,” he replied as he dealt the hand. “But you’d know that if you stopped by more often.”

“I don’t stop by because your wife hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

Joel arched a brow and retrieved his cards, “You sure about that?”

“Maybe you’d get along better if you tried talkin’ with her,” Tommy suggested as he rearranged his own cards. “Maybe over a civilized dinner?”

“Only if I can bring Ellie has a buffer.”

“Well, I was thinking – maybe you can bring your girl and Ellie can babysit?”

Joel paused with his whisky halfway to his mouth, “What? Like a double date?”

“A civilized dinner,” Tommy reiterated.

They both fell silent as they showed their hands, and once victory was declared by the dealer, Joel snagged the deck and shuffled. Sweet Home Alabama lasted long enough for another round, another hand, and another loss for him. Tommy had a shit poker face, but somehow always managed to squeak by, and Joel was defeated three more times before his brother called for a time out.

“Gonna hit the head,” he announced as he got to his feet. “I’ll get us another round on the way back. Wanna play pool?”

Joel nodded. Tommy rapped the table with his knuckles in acknowledgment, and as he headed for the restroom, Joel got up and headed for the worn cue sticks lined up on the wall. Marked-up top rails, torn felt, and ragged leather pockets – the table had certainly seen better days, and as he examined it closely, he wondered if it would be possible to either refurbish it or build a new one.

There always seemed to be something that needed tending, and Joel had been tapped for a lot of fixups and builds, but he hadn’t done much for the towns or his own enjoyment. He’d like to have a project – assuming he could get the supplies – and had just started making a mental list of what he’d need when Tommy walked over with you in tow.

Hair in a braid across your shoulder and a beer in hand. Long sleeves of one of his flannels pushed up past your elbows and what he’d learned were your favorite blue jeans. Bright eyes and an even brighter smile – you’d just come from a ride with Bella, and he could smell the hay and sweat on your skin when he kissed your cheek.

“Tommy says he’s invited us to dinner,” you said by way of greeting. “But apparently, you’re being a stubborn ass about it?”

Joel glared at his brother, “Seriously?”

“I said you didn’t seem like you were into it,” he rushed to explain.

“Which is bro-code for you’re being a stubborn ass,” you supplied.

He snagged his drink from Tommy’s hand. Took a long swallow. You looked at him with mock sympathy and patted his chest. His little brother – the shithead – just grinned behind the rim of his mug. Joel knew the two of you had conspired against him, but that didn’t mean he had to take it lying down.

“I don’t wanna play with you anymore,” he sniffed.

Tommy barked out a laugh, “What are you, a five-year-old?”

“Joel, you and I will play,” you insisted as you stepped between them. “And if you win, we won’t go to dinner at Tommy’s. If I win, we will. Deal?”

He looked at your outstretched hand for a moment before he deposited his glass on a nearby table and shook it. Once the bargain had been struck, Tommy smirked and moved out of the way. Joel looked at him expectantly, but he uncharacteristically kept his mouth shut.

“I’ll rack, you break?” you suggested.

Joel agreed. Potted a solid on the first shot. Sunk another before his third shot went wide. You examined the table. Bent at the waist. Sank a stripe. You lined up for a second but struck a little too zealously; the cue ball popped up off the table, but Joel caught it before it fell, and your foul meant he could place the cue to his advantage.

He put three more solids in the pockets before he missed. You took another turn and pocketed two before you double-clutched the cue. Your foul enabled him to sink his final three all too easily, and with only the eight-ball left, victory was within his grasp.

Joel patted you on the ass as he moved around you, “Hope you’re not a sore loser, sweetheart.”

You scoffed. He leaned over the table. The shot was beyond clear – so clear, in fact, that he looked at you when he took it. Problem was, he’d been a bit too cocky. The eight-ball went in, and the cue hung precariously on the edge before it followed.

“Well, shit,” he muttered.

“Oh, I get to go again!” you cheered gleefully as you retrieved the eight-ball.

Confident he still had the advantage, he stepped back, and let you take your turn. After the eight-ball was spotted, you placed the cue, and Joel watched as you proceeded to wipe the floor with him. You moved like you knew your way around the table, and when you sank the eight-ball, he knew he’d been played.

Tommy whooped it up and saluted you with his beer, “Guess I’ll be seein’ you both on Friday, then, yeah?”

Joel groaned, and in a mirror image of what he’d done to you earlier, you walked behind him, gave his ass a firm pat, and told him not to be a sore loser. You made your way over to the wall cue rack and he followed. After both sticks were returned, he snagged you around the waist and placed his mouth over your ear.

“Fuckin’ shark,” he snarled. “I’ll deal with you later.”

You pressed back against him and laughed, “Promise?”

Joel groaned. Dug his fingers into the meat of your hips. Prayed his cock behaved until the two of you were at least out of his brother’s sight. Tommy got you a celebratory shot, and after you knocked it back, you asked him if there was anything you could bring to dinner.

“Just bring yourself,” he insisted. “And make sure this one doesn’t bolt.”

You guaranteed both your presence and his, and with that, Tommy announced he needed to get home to Maria and his boy. While you darted off to use the bathroom, Joel accompanied his brother to the exit.

“Why are you insisting on having dinner?” he asked.

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, “You forget – Maria and I have known her longer than you have. We understand what you see in her. We just wanna know what she sees in you.”

Joel huffed. Tommy smirked. They exchanged a hug that involved a lot of back slapping, and you came out just in time to see him off. Tommy headed in one direction. Joel accompanied you in the opposite. You held his arm as you walked together toward your house, but instead of going inside, you guided him toward the back porch.

He sat down on the swing first, and after you followed and tucked your feet up, he wrapped his arm around you and snuggled you close. Joel asked you if you were warm enough, and you nodded and rested your head against his chest.

“We don’t have to go,” you murmured. “Not if you really don’t want to.”

“If you’re goin’, I’m goin’.”

“Alright, then. It’s a date.”

Joel chuckled and squeezed your arm, “Yeah, sweetheart. I guess it is.”

Next Chapter: November

#joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fan fiction #calendar girl

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creativepromptsforwriting · 2 years ago

Note

Hi Jana!

I was thinking: do you have any prompts about objects being haunted but, like, in a 'usefull' way? As in, the ghost haunting the object helps the bearer. It's for a story I'm writing, based around this central idea.

Hope it's not too specific or out of your comfort zone, if so you can even leave this ask be.

Hope life is kind with you, bye!

Hi :)

Life's good, I hope it's the same for you.

Haunted Objects

a jukebox that always plays the right song for the situation

a piece of string that curls around the owner's wrist to remind them of something

glasses that make the wearer see ghosts/in the dark

a pen that writes down the owner's thoughts

a water fountain that never stops flowing

a TV that only shows happy things

a clock that can turn back time

an amulett that vibrates when danger is near

a car that self-drives

shoes that help the wearer fly

a phone that texts back, so the owner don't have to

a fridge that's never empty

a typewriter that types on their own

I hope you can do something with this! :)

- Jana

#anon ask #creativepromptsforwritingask #creativepromptsforwriting #haunted objects #cursed objects #ghosts #writing prompts #prompt list #writing ideas #writing inspiration #writing inspo #writeblr

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seenoversundown · 6 months ago

Text

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Five

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (fem OC)

Warnings: Anxious Themes (includes a Comforting scene), Mild Meltdown (I don't want to say a panic attack because it isn't really) Mentions of Grieving, the most brief mention of funerals, silly&friendly bullying, drinking/alcohol (we know the drill), Fluff oh the fluff, & Jake yearns a little more (shocking).

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: After caving and finally asking for help, Jake doesn't know what to do with himself until she shows up. Which takes a big ol' turn for ... well, I guess we will find out, won't we? 🤭

Author's Note: If we're being completely honest, this was the first chapter I wrote, of this story. I knew exactly how I wanted this day to go and I couldn't stop myself when I thought of the idea. It's what fueled the bulk of the storyline and I really hope you guys love it as deeply as I do. 🥹

Clocks Go Forward - James Bay "Stay warm, close your eyes, let time fly, Stay close, stay right here, nothing to fear."

I slide my phone back into my pocket. Staring at it isn’t going to make her reply, Jake. I’ve been at the bar trying to figure out this paperwork for a while, and well, I’m lost. My hands keep finding their way to the back of my head as I read through these documents; I need to focus on something else.

“Hey, how are you?” I say in passing some day-time regulars of ours. I collect any empty cans or glasses that I can, anything to keep me busy at this rate.

I wander behind the bar, setting all the glasses in the dirty bin.

“Jake.”

I look over to Josh, who’s wiping out a glass.

“Why don’t you just go get some lunch or something? You’re stressing me out being here.”

“Is it really that bad?” I ask, running my hand through my hair.

A laugh erupting from him says enough.

“Okay, alright, I’ll leave you alone,” I tell him, “Just let me know if you need anything.”

Reluctantly sitting back down at the desk in my office, I find myself with my head in my hands for a moment. You’re going to be okay. You’re new at this, and it’s okay to mess up. She’s giving you time to take care of everything.

After a deep breath or two, I opened my laptop and pulled up my email. I decided that maybe spending some time doing mindless admin work would help distract me from the inevitable problem.

I’m flying through these emails by humming along to whatever customers have chosen for the jukebox. Looking at the time in the top corner, 2:30 pm.

She still hasn’t replied. Maybe she’s working with someone else right now; just be patient.

I walk back into the bar, seeing a handful more people come in. I wave slightly to the regulars who like to camp out in the corner. They enjoy sneaking away from work for a few hours; “Lunch beers” is apparently what they call it. I laughed the first time they told me about it, but as they continued the tradition, I understood it more and more.

Looking to the corner of the bar, I see Quinn. I can’t help but watch the two of them for a minute with a grin plastered on my face. Seeing my brother so happy makes my heart swell daily, and Quinn is perfect for him; I can’t deny it. They just know how to handle him and reign him in when he’s being a bit too much. Which is more often than not.

“Do you two want to go grab lunch?” I ask, slinking my arm around Josh’s shoulders, “I think I can handle the rowdy folk we have here.” I shoot a wink at the few customers sitting next to Quinn.

His eyes light up, “You don’t have to ask me twice. Let’s go, bug!”

I don’t think he could have left any quicker if he tried. Immediately, hand in hand with Quinn, and practically pranced out of the bar.

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“And a squirrel fell down my chimney into my fireplace!”

I nod with a quiet “mhm,” glancing at my phone hidden under the bar. 3:15 pm. I'm trying to look interested in this story I’ve heard a few times. The older gentleman talking to me forgets that he’s told me the majority of the tales he has in his arsenal. But I don’t want to cut him off; he seems lonely, and the least I can do is humor him.

Hearing the door chime, followed by Josh making his entrance.

“Welcome back,” I chuckle as he walks swiftly towards the bar.

“I need to use the lavatory, and then I will be ready to rock ‘n roll or whatever kids say nowadays,” Josh mutters.

You would think he’s nine hundred years old with how he talks sometimes, but it always keeps me on my toes. Watching as he disappears around the corner, I grab the older man’s glass and place it in the dirty bin.

The door chime goes off again, causing my head to whip around.

Oh, she’s here..?

As Charlotte slowly walks to the bar, I go to meet her at the opposite corner. I pull my phone out; she never replied?

“I didn’t think I would see you today,” I start as she approaches. Leaning down to grab everything I had been looking at, I stowed away when I couldn’t focus anymore.

“I have been reading through all of these, and I think you’re gonna need to explain these to me like I’m five–” I stop. I hadn’t looked at her face the entire time, and her eyes were pink and looked a bit swollen. She’s not making eye contact at all, which seems odd compared to the other afternoon, where I thought if she held my gaze any longer, I would explode. Was she crying? I questioned myself. I hope I didn’t cause this. Was she supposed to be off today? Oh my god, what if I’m the only reason she’s working?

Finally pulling myself out of my head, “Are you okay?”

She takes a shallow breath before looking up at me, and I can see that her eyes are fighting the urge to let the tears fall.

“Um,” she swallows, looking back down, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Her raspy voice is so quiet I can barely hear it. Her lip quivers as she stands there, and I can see the way her breathing is picking up. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

I hear the door to the bathroom open. Turning around, I shoot Josh a look. He makes eye contact with me as I bounce my eyes to Charlotte and back to him. I watch as he glances at her quickly, his eyes widening as if to say, ‘Do what you need to.’

I come out from behind the bar, grabbing her bag from the barstool it sat on.

“Come with me,” I whisper to her; she just nods in response.

I gently place my hand on her back, guiding her down the hall to my office. Just long enough to round the corner into the small room, she lets out the tiniest whimper I’ve ever heard. I toss her bag onto the chair, facing her as she finally breaks down. Her hands fly up to hide her face as she lets out the most heartbreaking sound. One sob was enough for me; I pushed the door closed behind her and pulled her into me.

“Oh, honey,” I let slip out, holding her small frame tight against me as she cried. I listen to her sobs against my chest as I run my hand down the back of her head, holding her close. I close my eyes to help focus my breathing; being in these situations never gets easier and I’ll never understand how I always end up in them.

“Take a breath for me,” I said quietly, trying to stay calm for her. I can feel her take a deep breath and shakily release it. Her arms drop from her face, finding their way around my back. Grabbing at my shirt gently, like she’s afraid I'll let her go.

“I’m right here. Take your time,” I whisper, pressing my lips gently to the top of her head, “You’re okay.”

We spend a few minutes like this. I keep rubbing slow circles on her back, resting my face against the top of her head to keep her tucked in.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. I feel her shake her head ‘no’ before turning her face and leaning back against me, reaching up to push the hair out of her face. She lets out another shaky breath.

“I‘m so sorry,” she mumbles into me.

“Don’t apologize for having emotions.”

I lean back to look at her, her breathing starts to feel more normal.

She looks tired.

I don’t know what comes over me when I reach up, holding either side of her face and gently wiping the tear stains on her cheeks away.

Our eyes finally met; she really was beautiful— crying or not.

Her gaze doesn’t falter, her green eyes locked on me. She almost makes me nervous, not in a mean or intimidating way, but like I shouldn’t be allowed to look at someone who looks like her.

“Do you want to um-” I hesitate, “go get something to eat? While we talk about things. Not like a d-”

Despite her watery eyes, she huffs out a laugh.

“Stop,” she says, “I know what you mean. Yes, let’s do that.”

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We walked into the restaurant, and considering it’s only 4 p.m., it’s not very busy. I let her pick where we sit, following behind as she chose. She had a soft smile on her face as she claimed the booth seat like she just won a prize.

“Hi, can I please have a Boulevardier? ” Charlotte politely orders, my eyebrows raised at her choice.

“Actually, I’ll take the same thing,” I tell them, “Thank you.”

Charlotte pulled out the paperwork, flipping through it to see what I had left. Watching her green eyes flit across them, setting aside anything that needs more attention. The way that she chews the inside of her lip while she’s reading is endearing.

“Okay, so you haven’t missed too many things.” She tells me.

“Oh good,” I start picking at my lip, “I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize how much was involved.”

“That’s alright, Jacob. It’s a lot, and nobody generally explains this part of business to you.” Normally, I would cringe at my full name being used, but I just want her to keep saying it.

She pulled out one of the papers and turned it to face me. She pointed at the part I hadn’t filled out.

“So essentially, this means–” She begins explaining. Her eye contact is intense while she talks, which makes it incredibly hard to focus. I feel myself slowly smiling as she’s telling me. I glance at her mouth quickly, making it even more challenging to pay attention.

“What?”

Damnit. I raised my eyebrows with a small ‘mmm’.

“You looked like you wanted to say something?” She questions.

“Oh, I’m sorry– no, I was just listening.” There are a lot of things I could say.

“Oh– Well, anyway,” she shakes her head a little before continuing to explain.

I really wish that I could tell you what she’s explained to me at this point, but to be completely honest, I have no clue. I’ve been far too distracted by the freckles on her nose and the way her eyes twinkle under these lights. I can’t get over the green of her eyes, with subtle gold flecks in them. Her hair is perfectly curled, and how the color of it stands out against her blazer. She is unreal.

“Are you planning on doing that?” She asks, immediately pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“Great, Melody will really benefit from that,” she tells me. Benefit from what exactly?

“Do you need me to send you the information on that?” she quickly asks, grateful I’ll at least have context on what I’m agreeing to.

“Please, if you could,” I say quietly as I rub my eyes.

Our server stopped our conversation to take our order, giving me a second to try and refocus myself. She is trying to help you and isn’t being an asshole about it. The least you can do is pay attention to what she’s actually saying. Get it together.

“Okay anyway,” she starts again, “I think that’s everything?” She sifts through the papers.

“Amazing,” I breathe out. “I’m sorry I made you come out here to help.” I sit back in my chair, my hands falling into my lap, where I quietly dig at the side of my thumb.

“No, it’s okay, really,” she says, not making eye contact this time. “I was already in Portland, so it worked out.”

Her eyebrows pulled together as she told me, but I knew I shouldn’t ask. If she wanted to tell me what was wrong, she would. I’m not going to make her cry again.

“Well, I’m glad I caught you at the right time then,” I say, offering a small smile. Her face softens a bit, and she leans forward, propping herself up.

“So, how long ago did you buy the bar if it’s not even a year old?”

“About two years ago, actually,” I tell her, “We took our time renovating it to feel right.”

“We?”

“All the boys helped me, but Josh really did the most with making it look the way it does.” I usually have no issue talking about the bar, but her being even vaguely interested has my brain stalling.

“I love that. He did a good job curating,” she says, “Was the goal to be pirate-esque, or did it just end up that way?”

I chuckle, “No, it was intentional. I’ve always enjoyed pirates, even as a kid, so I felt like it just made sense.”

“I think it’s nice that you made it your own. There are enough modern hipster bars in the area. It’s a refreshing thing to walk into.”

Her compliment made my heart beat a little harder. I’m never one to assume, but she doesn’t strike me as someone who would hang out in a bar like mine. Granted, I guess I can’t really picture her hanging out in bars in general, but maybe that’s because I have always been a fan of the smaller, more dive bars. And I can confirm that I’ve never seen someone of her caliber in any of them.

Once our food is brought out, I ask her about how she got into working for the state. We quietly chatted about some of the situations that she’d walked into, which unintentionally made me feel much better about my slip-up. But simultaneously, it made me realize how terrible men can be. I can’t imagine yelling at her regardless of what she told me. People are awful.

The server brings over the check, and without hesitation, I slide my card into the little black folder and hand it back to them with a quiet, ‘Thank you.’ I bring my attention back over to her, her eyes a little wide but going back to normal as she continues telling me about another bar owner being a complete ass.

I fill out the slip, leaving cash for the tip, before looking up at her.

“Ready?” I ask. She just nods a few times before sliding out of the booth. I wave my hand in front of me, “After you m’lady.”

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“So, how far do you live from here?” I try to make some form of small talk on the way back to her car, avoiding the elephant in the room.

“I live in Skowhegan, so it’s a little hike,” she tells me, looking around at the area’s architecture, “but my family has a house on Sebago Lake, so it’s not as bad when I have to come down here.”

“Oh, I'm sure it’s peaceful over there.” I imagine how quiet that lake house must be this time of year. With minimal people vacationing or trying to fish on the lake, and it’s probably gorgeous in the mornings.

“It really is,” she says, looking down at her feet for a second, “Do you live close?”

“I actually live above the bar,” I laugh every time I tell someone, “I know that probably seems ridiculous.”

“Convenient, at least,” She giggles softly before looking at me with a smile. Oh, I’m gonna throw up.

“It’s a blessing and a curse,” I tell her, “Blessing when you can just roll out of bed and run downstairs if you oversleep, but a curse when I find myself in there most days.. And nights.” Pointing at the crosswalk, nobody was coming; I placed my hand on the small of her back as I led her into the street, shit, carefully pulling my hand back as she stepped off the sidewalk.

“You don’t get sick of being there?”

“You would think so, but no. I love it, even if working with my brothers can be an absolute chore sometimes.” I tell her.

She grabs my arm gently.

“I think that’s great, Jacob. It’s refreshing to hear someone love their job in this industry. It’s few and far between.” I glance over at her as she says it; my stomach has little knots forming as she squeezes my bicep a few times before pulling her hand back.

She points to her car, parked just a short distance ahead of us. I see her pulling her keys from her bag as we approach it, unlocking the doors. I open her door for her, watching her face redden a little at the gesture. As she’s settling into her seat, I notice a brochure-looking paper in her passenger seat before realizing there’s a photo on the front. And a name. Oh my god, Charlotte. That’s why she was so upset.

Setting her bag down in front of the pamphlet, she turned back to me with a soft smile, “How much should I send you for food?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her.

“But, Jacob..”

“It was my idea. I’m not going to make you pay for that.” Also, it’s the least I can do, especially now.

“Okay,” she sighs. “Well, thank you for the food and walking me back here. I’m pretty sure I would have gotten lost.”

“Of course,” I tell her, “Drive safe.”

I go to close her door for her, and I don’t know what possessed me when I hesitate, “Actually—” what are you doing? “Let me know when you make it home? Just since it’ll be a little later.”

She nods subtly before saying, “Okay,” with a quiet laugh.

I bite at my bottom lip as I smile at her, gently shutting her door for her.

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“Now, where have you been?”

I haven’t even made it fully behind the bar, and I’m already getting harassed.

“It’s nice to see you too, Linda,” I laugh under my breath, “I had to take care of some paperwork, but I’m here now.”

Raising an eyebrow, she looks from me to my right, where Josh stands with a shit-eating grin. Oh, fuck me.

“And how was that paperwork, brother?” He says joyfully, emphasizing his skepticism with heavy air quotes.

And, here we go.

“The paperwork went well,” I side-eye him, “Thank you for asking.”

I watched the two of them share a look before looking back at me, and all I offered was a shrug in response.

“Why were you not in your office doing paperwork?” Linda questions as Eleanor joins her at the bar in their usual spots.

“Who wasn’t in the office?” Eleanor chimes in.

“Jake! He apparently went somewhere with someone to take care of paperwork,” Linda fills her in, like two school girls at lunch.

Rubbing my hand across my face, I turn around to dry some glasses while I’m interrogated further. I should have known my being nice to her would have me questioned.

“Well, that sounds like he went on a date,” Eleanor unknowingly agreeing with their past statements. Josh is the most enormous pain in my ass, I swear to god.

“It wasn’t a date!”

Josh laughed, “That sounds like something someone who went on a secret date would say.” I feel my body warm the more they talk about my “date.” WHICH WASN’T A DATE.

“Well, who paid?” Linda asks.

“Uhh… I did,” I hesitated to answer. “But- it was my idea to go there, so I didn’t want to make her pay anything.”

“Oh! You went with a girl?” Eleanor quietly questions.

“Yes, I needed help with some business stuff, and she was able to help me,” I tell her. “If she hadn’t come in so upset, I would have just been here the whole time.”

The ladies look at each other and then back at me before Eleanor pipes back up, “So what you’re saying is, I just need to come in here crying to score a date with you?”

A laugh falls out of me before I can even process what she’s said; at least someone has a sense of humor about all of this.

“That’s very nice of you to take her to lunch to try and help cheer her up, sweetheart,” Linda tells me. I smile at her compliment before putting away some of the glasses I had been drying. I feel Josh’s presence before he says anything, just setting some dirty glasses in the bin below the counter.

“Is she okay?” he whispers, leaning over to make sure nobody else heard.

“I don’t know, honestly,” I tell him, knowing I sound a little panicked about it.

“Did she say why she was upset?”

I shake my head ‘no’ before leaning over, “I saw one of those printouts you get at funerals in her car, and she was wearing all black, so I’m assuming that she uh—”

Josh covers his mouth and turns to look at me. If there’s one thing I know about my brother, it’s that he will absolutely empathize with anybody about anything.

“Oh shit,” he murmurs under his breath.

I can’t hide the look of concern on my face as we stare at each other for no more than a few seconds.

“She’ll be alright. You probably just caught a wave of grief, is all.” Josh says, grabbing my arm and giving it a few squeezes.

I let out a small breath. He’s right. She probably just hadn’t really let anything out, and I just asked the wrong question.

“You’re right,” I whisper back, patting the back of his hand on my arm, “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” But that isn’t going to stop me from worrying.

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Business picked up shortly after that, with all the tables full and chatter loud. It kept me from my thoughts, which is probably for the best. I’m grateful that Linda and Eleanor came in tonight; they always keep me busy.

I take small breaks from behind the bar to go check on the tables of people, collecting the empty glasses and bottles; sometimes, it’s nice to just mindlessly clean up. I spend a few minutes making small talk with some of the regulars, noticing the time as one of their phones lights up.

11:30 p.m. already? Where did the night go? I leave the table with a slight wave and head back to the bar to leave the dirty glasses. Setting them all on the back counter, I can tell Josh is caught up in whatever the ladies are telling him.

Rounding the corner into the hall, I quickly lock myself away in the bathroom. Pulling my phone out immediately, relief washes over me when I see her name sitting in my notifications. Thank god.

Charlotte: I made it home. Thank you again

Jake: I’m happy to hear that and of course

Jake: I hope everythings okay.

Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I head back into the bar. She’s home, at least there’s that.

“You can go if you want. I can handle the rest of the night,” I tell Josh quietly. He’s been here all day, and I definitely didn’t intend for him to cover the bar for that long.

“Are you sure?”

“Please, go get some sleep or call Quinn. Just get out of here while you can.”

He hands me the towel he was using and mouths ‘thank you’ as he slides by me; I really can’t blame him for being excited to go to bed. It’s been a long day.

The rest of the night seemingly flew by. A fair number of people, including Linda and Eleanor, left by 1 am, which meant I had to clock into my true Customer Service self for the last hour of the night. But it’s always nice when people start to trickle out early so that I can start cleaning up to close and make my life a little easier.

I’m leaning against the back counter talking to the last few customers, and I can’t help but let my mind wander. What if she’s still upset? There’s nothing I can do to help that situation, and that’s okay. Maybe she just needs a friend right now. I could do that? Or maybe she’s already told her friends, and Josh was right. Was she just having a moment? Oh god, what if she has a boyf-

My phone vibrates, pulling my attention away from my internal spiral. 1:57 a.m. Thank god.

Charlotte: It will be, i’m sorry that you had to witness that.

Jake: don’t apologize, i’m glad i was able to help..i hope?

Charlotte: It did help, truly.

That makes my heart feel a little weird. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

Jake: well.. if you need anything, let me know?

I set my phone down underneath the bar and started printing the tabs for the last customers who were sitting. I went through the motions as I put the papers out front of each of them with a pen. I watch as they sign on the line, possibly leaving a tip; either way, I’m not bothered. Leaving with a friendly ‘Have a good one,’ I follow behind them, locking the doors and shutting off the neon lights. Happy to know that I have hardly anything left to do.

The brisk air hits me as I lock the back door, and I practically run up the stairs. Opening the door, it’s quiet. He must be asleep then. I carefully walk through the apartment, cracking his door open to see him tucked away in bed.

“Goodnight, Josh,” I whisper, pulling his door shut gently.

I shut my door as softly as I could, immediately pulled my flannel off, and tossed it on the end of my bed. Followed by my jeans before I grab my phone from my nightstand. 2:34 a.m. I open my messages to see her name sitting there with the blue, unread messages dot glowing back at me.

Charlotte: I may take you up on that.

Why is she still awake? It’s so late.

Jake: I hope you do

Be more obvious, Jake, come on..

Jake: Also why are you still up? lol

It changes from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’ almost instantly. I watch the typing bubbles pop up, making my stomach turn.

Charlotte: I just haven’t been tired enough to sleep, but I think I’m getting there.

Jake: After everything, I figured you’d be exhausted

Charlotte: You would think lol

Dropping my phone next to me. I rub my hands down my face. Trying to get the look on her face just before she cried out of my mind. ‘I’m so sorry’ in her sad little voice, playing on a loop. The sounds of her sobs against my chest, her shaking in my arms. I almost wish that I didn’t know why she was upset now.

Jake: well don’t let me keep you up

This time, my message sat on delivered for a few minutes. I did my daily scroll on mindless apps and looked at the few new photos people had tagged the bar in before she replied.

Charlotte: You’re not a bother at all, but I should probably try to sleep before it gets too much later.

Charlotte: Goodnight Jacob

My mind ran through all the ways that I could reply. How I’d love to tell her that I’m sorry for her loss and that I hope everything gets better. Even that, I had a lovely time talking to someone outside of my family and their partners for more than a few minutes as I served them a beer. It felt like we could be friends even, with the way she didn’t seem phased by any of the vaguely nerdy things I said. Unfortunately, my hands settled on something more straightforward, and I quickly hit ‘send.’

Jake: sleep well, Charlotte

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Four

Chapter Six

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klaprisun · 6 months ago

Text

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley)(Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 34

For some reason on my walk to the saloon, I saw nobody. There was nobody walking around, nobody doing yard work, nobody running errands. I know it is pretty late out, but people are usually still out and about. It’s giving me a really weird vibe.

Today is also the first day of fall! I had a lot of crops to clear out for the new season, but thankfully my project is still intact. I don’t know what I’m waiting for at this point… it’s really not a huge thing.

I kick a pebble from my path as I venture closer to the saloon. Still no sign of anyone. But as I get closer and closer to the building, I start to hear really…really… loud country music coming from inside. My curiosity is immediately in full gear, so I rush the rest of the way.

Bursting through the door of the Stardrop Saloon, I couldn’t even hear the bell over the sound of the jukebox at full blast. All the tables have been pushed aside creating what seems to be a dance floor. To my surprise, the dance floor was completely full with everyone dancing in rhythm to one another. Bodies were flying and twirling all around so quickly that I couldn’t keep up. What I really noticed was everyone changing partners every couple of minutes.

“A fucking hoe down?” I mumble in exasperation. I already had a tough time keeping up at the Flower Dance and that required no skill. This is another level for me.

People started noticing I was looming by the door and tried waving me over. First Gus, then Marnie, then Lewis, then what felt like the rest of the town. I had to wave off so many people in embarrassment.

I thought I was safe until Leah came swirling like a tornado my way. I couldn’t even object before she yanked my arm and tossed me into the mix of bodies on the dance floor. My arms connected with someone’s immediately and they swung me around to the beat of the music. When there was a pause in the dance, I could finally see who I landed with.

“Hey Danny,” Alex greeted me as we did a weird side step dance move while he held my hand up. I tried my very hardest to concentrate on his foot work so I could keep up.

“What’s all this about?” I question loudly over the sound of the hand claps echoing through the room.

“Not too sure to be honest. People kind of showed up and then Gus turned the jukebox up and it summoned the rest of the town in a weird, creepy way. It felt like being lured by a siren call,” Alex joked.

“How are you doing?” he twirls me around with his hand holding mine above my head. It’s really weird to be dancing with a dude, especially since we are both bulky, stone, statues.

“If you mean about Taylor and all that, I’m doing well. It’s going well. We might even officially put a label on our situation eventually,” we slide to the left a little awkwardly and my boot gets caught in a splitter on the floor board. I have to pry it away.

“That’s really good news. I’m glad to hear,” I give him a sincere smile and he gives me one in return.

“So you and Haley..? How is that going?” I see his eyebrows raise from the corner of my eye since the dance is everyone facing forwards in a line dance style now.

“It’s going better than great.” I feel my face heat up as I recap the previous night. Just as Haley suspected, I can tell Alex somehow figured out what happened because his face lit up as his jaw dropped. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, I was yanked away into someone else's arms.

“Look at you go! You are a natural!” Marnie sings as I spin her around. Somehow I fell right into the flow of the dance now. I’m not really thinking about it too much.

“It took some concentration at first, but I am slowly getting the hang of it,” I shrug.

“How are your chickens doing? Are you ready for some cows in a barn yet?” Marnie laughs. Once again, the clapping nearly drowns out our conversation.

“They’re growing so fast. I miss them as little chicks already. I’m nearly ready for some cows though. I can’t wait.”

“What are their names again? I have such a bad memory these days.”

I trip a little in the middle of the side step I was doing as I think of the names. On their own, they sound like normal chicken names… but together there is a bit of a pattern.

“Well… there is Coconut…Pinkie…Fruit Cup… and… Sunflower.”

“Oh those are such lovely names! I just know you take great care of those little rascals,” Marnie exclaims. “Time for another partner swap!”

Marnie must do this a lot, because a second after, I was pulled into the crowd by someone else for another round of the dance.

“Look at those hips move, girl!” Leah hollers as she holds my hips and starts rocking them back and forth a bit more than I was already doing.

“They ain’t even moving that much. You’re doing that,” I chuckle. I’m really working up a sweat at this point. This dancing is no joke.

“I bet Haley’s hips have been moving this much,” Leah pokes my side causing me to recoil, then lets go of my hips to line dance to the next part of the song.

“Maybe more,” a smirk forms on my lips and I give Leah a telling look. That causes her to clue in immediately. Just like Alex, she was also cut off by me getting pulled away before she could say anything.

“How have your injuries been? Have you been taking care of them? How is your head?” Harvey bombards me with questions right off the bat.

“No complaints yet…” I jokingly answered.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“So you are doing good?” He asks again. We hesitate a moment in the dance as we kind of get confused about who twirls who around which ultimately ends with me twirling Harvey.

“I have been taking care of myself. Don’t worry, doctor,” I flash him a charming smile. Harvey’s face distorts into an unreadable expression, and his cheeks go slightly pink. It throws me off and makes me get flustered. I trip over my own foot for a second but quickly regain balance. I guess I just have that effect on people..?

“C’mere,” Elliot pulls me away from Harvey so I can now be his dance partner. I didn’t even realize it was time to switch already. Each dance sequence feels like it's getting quicker and quicker. But I think I’m just getting used to it.

“That was so weird. I think I just made Harvey blush?” I say with uncertainty.

“I don’t think you know how attractive you are. Don’t cut yourself short,” Elliot says firmly.

“Well I don’t know about THAT,” I roll my eyes as I click my heels and toes against the ground to the beat.

“You literally made Haley rethink her sexuality,” Elliot points out. We shimmy past one another with our knuckles placed on our hips. I tip my hat down at him as we pass by each other.

“See. Right there. You’re attractive whether you agree or not. I’m not into you, but I see how you got Haley’s panties in a twist-” Elliot's sentence gets cut short as Leah spins by us and whispers into his ear. He listens intently, but his eyes widen and both of them look my way directly after. Leah gets swung back away from us by her dance partner, Caroline. Elliot is left gawking like an idiot as everyone changes dance partners again.

My next dance partner turned out to be Pierre. He was a bit off beat and that caused me to be thrown off a bit.

“I don’t know why I keep trying to do these dances. I’m getting too old for this,” he sighs.

“What are you talking about? You’re still plenty young!” I nudge his shoulder, trying to get his spirits up.

“Caroline has so much energy and a free spirit. I wish I could keep up with her and her hobbies.”

“I’m sure you guys have some kind of things you do together?”

“Yeah I guess we do. I just feel like she doesn’t like me as much anymore.”

“Why don’t you get her a bouquet to let her know how much you still love her? I’m sure she’d love that.”

“Good idea, Danny. Haley is a lucky girl.” And with that he gives me a wink and the dance is already over for this partner rotation.

I try to make eye contact with someone in the crowd so I know where I’m getting dragged to next. All I can see is an ocean of dancing people, no one person is looking back at me. Suddenly I feel my arm get tugged into the next dance.

“You looked like a lost puppy,” Maru giggles as we start clapping.

“I feel like one. I just keep getting whipped around from person to person. I can’t keep up,” I huff as I wipe a drip of sweat from my forehead.

“It's nearly over. Just a few more partner swaps!”

“I bet it will feel like forever. I’m going to sleep good tonight though that’s for sure.”

“Well it’s already time to switch! Good luck out there!” Maru lets go of my hand and I’m washed back into the crowd.

Instead of being spun, swung, or twirled away by someone, I find myself line dancing beside good old, energetic Sam. He looks over at me when he notices I picked my pace up to match his. I see his eyes narrow and he starts getting more aggressive with his dancing. The beat starts picking up in the song, and the two of us start “dance battling” each other. We are the only two paying attention to our intense dancing. We even join hands at some point and act like we are actually dance partners, but really we were competing.

We keep that up for the entire round, not speaking to each other once. I did look away a few times to gaze around at everyone else having fun. I also notice Leah and Elliot whispering to people from our group here and there. They are such gossips.

Sam and I’s competition really took the last wind out of me. I’m starting to get absolutely pooped. Sam dances his way into the wave of bodies out of my sight, and I’m left dizzy, brain spinning in circles. I feel my body slowly start walking me off course, causing me to bump into someone.

“Oh my Yoba. Willy!?” I say as I crash into Willy’s open arms. He must’ve been expecting me to lose my senses and stumble around. I rarely get to talk to Willy. He likes to spend time out at the pier and in his store. I haven’t really been focused on fishing or anything lately so it’s been a while.

“Ahoy lass! How ye been?” His grumbly sounding voice and gruff appearance always makes people afraid of him. But he is one of the sweetest people I’ve met.

“Living the dream. How ‘bout you?” Willy twirls me around, more gracefully than anyone else had tonight.

“Still tryin’ to keep the fishing business running. Some may say I'm trying to keep it afloat!” he starts chuckling at his own pun. I joined in on the laughter as it was a good pun.

“You been having any luck in these local waters? You were a great angler there at the beginning,” Willy asks.

“I’ve been a bit... preoccupied,” I say sheepishly. “I promise I’ll try to get out there again soon.” I recognize the vibe in the air that means it is time to change partners. Willy and I tip our hats to one another and spin away.

This time, I’m dragged into a dance with Penny. Although, It was more like we bumped into each other and just went with it.

“Penny! Hi!” We grasp hands and hold them out to the side. My other hand is lightly holding her waist while hers is just kind of resting on my shoulder. We bounce to the music, sticking our feet out every which way, trying to keep in sync with everyone else.

“Hi Danny!” You are a great dancer!” she admired my footwork for a minute but then dance required us to spin next.

“Meh, this part is easy work. I get so lost when the line dance part comes up. I think I’ve tripped like three times during that bit.”

“It took me years to learn how to line dance. We haven’t even gotten to the fastest song yet. That’ll throw you off for sure. I still get lost during it,” she laughs.

“How is the teaching going? Are the rascals behaving for you?”

“Jas and Vincent are truly great kids. I love teaching them. Sometimes they are a handful but I can take it.”

“You are such a kind person for doing that for them. Everyone is so thankful for all that you do.”

“Awww thank you. It’s something I’m really interested in doing for the rest of my life. It would be nice working with pristine, good condition textbooks. The ones we have here are very rickety, old things. They basically fall apart in your hands.”

Before I could respond, I felt someone slide their hands up my arms, over my biceps, to my shoulders. Penny gives me a smirk as she can see who has walked up behind me. She gives me a slight nod and dances away.

The hands on my shoulders start twisting me around so that we are face to face.

“I know those hands anywhere,” I whisper to Haley. She had finally arrived at the saloon, making me have to suffer all this dancing by myself until now.

“I’m sure you do,” she seductively whispers back, wrapping her arms around my neck. I tuck mine in around her waist, holding her close. Suddenly the synchronized dancing doesn’t have my attention anymore.

Before we could even settle into a nice, slow dance pace, she flashes me a bright grin and picks up into the line dance choreography. I let out a sigh, but excitedly went to join her as her partner.

“Isn’t this fun!” she shouts over the loud music. We are holding hands, bobbing in and out as well as doing some fancy footwork.

“You’re just lucky I decided to join in with you. I’ve been dancing this for a really long time. I was starting to feel exhausted there before you came in.”

“You saved just enough energy for me?” She says as I twirl her around.

“Of course I did. I have to have at least one dance with the pretty misses,” her face reddens and she suddenly becomes shy. “What’s the matter, did I embarrass you?” I pinch her already red cheek, making her face go a shade darker.

“I’m just happy you saved a dance for me. I was hoping you did.”

“Of course! Who do you think I am?”

“Which, does anyone know about…” she waves a finger between her and I as we start line dancing again.

“Only like a few. I didn’t tell EVERYONE.”

We continue line dancing side by side, only really paying attention to what the other is doing. I sometimes take her hips from behind and dance behind her, but only once and a while. I can tell the end of the dance is coming up, so I take Haley and dip her to the ground. Just as I pull her back up, the song abruptly stops. The two of us are frozen, gazing into each other's eyes.

Everything is immediately snapped back into reality when we hear Shane shout from across the room.

“I WAS RIGHT!” He starts waving a stack of money our way, with our entire group standing behind him, staring at us. Some still had money in their hand, waiting to pass to Shane.

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