#I GOT HER LAST NAME WRONG WHOOPS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fireinmoonshot · 4 months ago

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unpredictable (like the weather) | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader (mentions of slight Scott x Fem!Reader) Summary: When you meet Tyler Owens, you have no intention of getting to know him – you know what kind of reputation he has in town. Tyler, on the other hand, has only one plan: win you over in any way he possibly can. Warnings: Alcohol, heavy drinking/getting drunk (not the reader), mentions of being sick Word Count: 7k A/N: So, someone commented on my last longer fic, Death Wish Love, saying that Tyler reminds them of the movie The Choice (which I love), so I rewatched it the other day and this is what ended up coming out of that inspiration! I wrote it pretty much all in one day (which is kinda insane for me), but now that Twisters is out online and I rewatched it twice in two days, the desire to write for Tyler is stronger than ever. This one is a longer one, so settle in and enjoy! 💗

If someone was to ask Tyler Owens about the first time he met you, he’d say that things didn’t quite go to plan. Not that there was a plan at all, really, considering the fact that he didn’t know who was going to be on the other side of the door when he heard a knock. All he knew when he opened it was that the woman standing on the other side, holding a stack of several towels in her arms, was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

“Oh, damn, let me take those,” Tyler said, reaching out to take the towels from you. “I told the owners we’d be happy to come grab them ourselves. You didn’t have to bring them all the way up here, but it’s well appreciated.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “The owners are my parents, and there’s nothing they love more than sending their daughter to work…” You really looked at him, then. Tall, blonde… and soaked from head to toe in water. The man was literally dripping, a puddle having formed on the tiled floor at his feet. “Did one of your pipes break or something? Do you need a repairman?”

Tyler looked down at himself and laughed. “No, we uh– we were out chasin’ and we got caught in the middle of a rain storm when we jumped out of the truck to grab some footage.” He jabbed a finger over his shoulder and you spotted another man further in the room, wringing out a bright yellow t-shirt in the sink. “Weather can be pretty unpredictable.”

“Oh, you’re storm chasers?” You raised your eyebrows, seemingly intrigued. “We get a lot of those here at the motel.”

Tyler couldn’t help the grin that sprung to his face. “Yeah, I bet you do,” he hummed. “None quite like us, though.” He watched as your lips quirked up into a small smile. “So, your parents own the place? Does that mean I’ll be seeing you around more often?”

“Maybe. If you need more towels.”

Tyler laughed and you couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling from your lips as well. He was just about to ask you for your name when Boone came up to him, grabbed a towel and said “Quit flirting and start dryin’ yourself off. You’re makin’ a mess of the place in front of the owners daughter, Ty.”

The smile dropped from your face almost instantly and for a moment, you just looked at him without saying a word. Tyler had just started to wonder if he or Boone had said something wrong when you spoke again.

“Are you Tyler Owens?”

Boone let out a loud whoop. “Told ya we’re gettin’ famous on Youtube, Ty! 200,000 subscribers, baby!”

“You’ve heard of me,” Tyler replied, a little cockily, ignoring Boone behind him. He was suddenly even more curious about you. You must have come across their Youtube channel – maybe you were even subscribed. He could forgive you for not recognising him at first sight. That simple fact somehow made you even more attractive to him. Maybe you were more interested in their storm chasing videos than in him… but he could change that.

“Oh, honey, that’s not a good thing.”

Tyler raised his eyebrows. “And why’s that?”

“I’ve been warned about you. By the girls at the bar in town. Ringing any bells?” You crossed your arms over your chest and suddenly Tyler was intimidated. Tyler was the type of guy who never got intimidated.

He hated that it wasn’t ringing any bells in his head. He’d gone to the local bar a fair few times over his years of storm chasing around the area. He was a flirt – that much was clear to anyone that spoke to him. But he was a gentleman as well. His mother had raised him to be.

“Please don’t take offence to this, darlin’, but I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tyler attempted, though he had a feeling you’d already made up your mind about him.

You smiled at him, then, and Tyler knew it wasn’t a friendly smile. It was more of a how the hell don’t you know what I’m talking about smile. If that was a thing.

“Tyler Owens, the storm chasing hunk who flirts with everyone but the second things look like they might get serious, he hurries off with a tornado to chase,” you explained. “That you?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a “Hang on– no– okay, that’s not–”

Much to his dismay, you were clearly done with the conversation. “If the towels are all you need, I’ve gotta get back to work. You’re welcome to ring the office if you need anything else. Just dial 7 on the phone on the desk.”

With that, Tyler watched as you turned on your heel and walked away. He laughed to himself in disbelief at what had just happened, leaning up against the doorframe until you disappeared from view.

“Hey, storm chasing hunk suits you, man,” Boone called from where he was towel drying his hair in the mirror.

“Not sure if that’s the kinda reputation I’m after, Boone.”

Tyler had learnt that day that you could also be just as unpredictable as the weather.

After your first encounter with Tyler Owens, you had been glad not to see him for a month. It’d been a relatively calm weather month, with a few storms here and there but none really amounting to anything. It was good in some ways, but not in others. Less storms meant less storm chasers staying at the motel, which meant less money.

You’d almost found yourself wishing for more storms.

At least until you saw Tyler’s familiar red truck pulling into the parking lot on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

That day, your parents had left you in charge while they headed out to Oklahoma City to stock up on a bunch of supplies that the motel was running low on, and how typical of that to be the day Tyler Owens and the Tornado Wranglers returned after their month long absence.

You watched as Tyler walked towards the office, clearly not bothered by the drizzle of rain. It didn’t surprise you – given the fact that he’d been soaked from head to toe when you first met him and was more interested in flirting with you rather than drying off. That had told you everything you needed to know about him.

When he pulled open the door and met your eyes, he flashed you a grin. “Your favourite storm chasing hunk returns,” Tyler greeted, his tone joking. “Long time no see, hey?”

“If only it’d been longer,” you give him a small smile of your own. “And favourite is a bit of a stretch. I met you once and you think you had that much of an impression on me? Have we got some storms coming our way, then?” You attempt to change the topic.

“What if I said I was just here to see you?”

You raised your eyebrows as you looked up at him. “I’d say you’re an asshole for getting my hopes up that we might end up booked out with storm chasers for the next couple of days.”

Tyler scrunched up his nose a little. He looked cute. Even though you’d been warned to steer clear of him, you had to admit he was a good looking man. You shook the thought from your mind.

“Been slow out this way this month?” He asked.

“You have no idea.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day then. You got five rooms for us? Just for the one night for now. Gotta see what tomorrow brings,” Tyler said.

You knew that there were five rooms for them – there were only three other guests staying in the motel at the moment and you had forty rooms, so it was an easy job to book five for Tyler and his team.

“Five rooms, huh? Not sharing anymore?”

The last time they’d stayed, you remembered that they’d only booked three rooms. The dark haired man with the moustache had been in Tyler’s room when you’d met him.

Tyler nodded. “Yeah, our Youtube has kinda blown up a bit over the past month,” he chuckled. “We can afford separate rooms for the first time ever so we’re making the most of it.”

You made a mental note to look their Youtube channel up later. Even if Tyler wasn’t on your radar, all of his friends had seemed nice enough last time you met them, and they must have been fairly talented at what they did to have amassed such a following online.

“Okay, so your rooms are from 201 to 205, just head up the stairs to the second level and you’ll see the numbers on the doors,” you said, grabbing the five sets of keys to the rooms and handing them to him.

He took the keys, slinging the key rings on his fingers to make them a little easier to carry.

“I guess I’ll see you around, then?” Tyler asked, taking a step back from the counter.

You smiled at him. “Not if I can help it.”

The Tornado Wranglers had stayed at your motel a few more times since the second time Tyler met you, and every time, you had reacted to him the same way. You tolerated him. No matter how much Tyler tried to win you over, flirt with you, get you to show any interest in him, it never worked.

Tyler was nursing his sorrows with a beer, the rest of the Wranglers and a few other storm chasing groups in the parking lot of your motel when he saw you. You were tugging on a coat and heading out of the office, a set of car keys in your hands.

He’d known that you didn’t live at the motel like your parents did and had seen you arriving at the motel early in the mornings when he’d been up early during their stays in the past, but he’d never seen you when you left.

“I’ll be right back,” Tyler said to no one in particular, putting his beer down and standing up, jogging over to where you were walking towards your car. “You heading out?”

You turned, meeting his eyes, and let out a sigh at the sight of him. “Going home, actually.”

“Why don’t you stay?” Tyler asked, nodding back to where his group was. “Have a couple of drinks with us. We don’t bite, really. You might enjoy yourself.” He was being truthful in his words. He’d decided to try a new method. No flirting, just honesty. Just trying to show you that he was interested in you without being too over the top.

For a moment, Tyler thought you might actually say yes.

“I can’t,” you shook your head. “But you guys enjoy your night, and try not to be too loud. Remember that my parents live here and they don’t wanna deal with noise complaints.”

Tyler laughed. “When have we ever been the cause of a noise complaint, darlin’?”

You laughed, too, and Tyler thought it was the most beautiful sound on earth.

“Okay, none that I’m aware of but there’s a first time for everything.”

“Exactly,” Tyler grinned. “If you’re not gonna come have some drinks with us, then what do you say to coming on a chase with us? First time for everything. Promise I won’t drive you into the middle of a tornado on your first chase.”

You raised your eyebrows. “So, you think I’m gonna say yes to a tornado chase when I won’t say yes to drinks? Tyler Owens, you are ridiculous,” you let out a breathy laugh. “And who says I haven’t chased before?”

With that, you were quick to unlock and get into your car, ending the conversation. Tyler stepped out of the way as you reversed and drove out of the motel. He sighed to himself as he walked back to the group, a small smile on his face. Had you chased before? He wanted to know everything about it, about you. Who had you chased with? When? He figured they were questions he’d never get the answers to.

“Oh, you got it bad, Ty,” Boone said as he got back to his seat.

“Yeah,” Tyler said, taking a swig of his beer. “Yeah, I do.”

The next few times Tyler stayed at the motel, he didn’t see you. Your parents had insisted that you were all right when he’d asked, just told him that you’d ‘gotten busy all of a sudden’, and Tyler wasn’t sure what to make of that.

It was the fourth time they’d stayed at the motel in the past month when he saw you again, and it was only when he and the other Wranglers made their way to the local bar for some drinks after a long day of failed chasing. The very bar you’d mentioned to him that he had a reputation in.

He almost walked straight back out the door when he saw you, but Boone pulled him right back in, insisting that this was the night to show you that he was nothing like his reputation anymore. If he could win you over, tonight would be the night, Boone said.

Boone had never been further from the truth.

It wasn’t long after they’d arrived that Tyler spotted a few members of the relatively new Storm Par team wandering into the bar, dressed in their uniforms like they were attending a meeting, not going out for drinks. He scoffed – until he saw the tall browned haired man , Scott, he thought his name was, wandering over to you, holding… holy hell, was he bringing you roses?

By the smile on your face, they were definitely for you.

Oh, Tyler felt like he could melt right into the floor. So this was why you’d never paid him any attention? This was why you’d been missing from the motel? Your parents telling him you were busy was because you were with Scott? He suddenly remembered you saying you’d been chasing before. It had to have been with Scott.

Storm Par had begun to get in their way a lot with their chasing, and now they were getting in his way again, but with you instead.

He watched as you took the roses from Scott’s hands and sniffed them, a smile blooming beautifully on your face as Scott took a seat beside you, resting his hand on your thigh.

Boone, sitting beside him, muttered an “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit is right,” Lily said from the other side of Boone. “You all right over there, Ty?”

He hadn’t realised he’d paused with his beer half way to his mouth. He cleared his throat and spun around in his chair, moving to face the bar again. The last thing he wanted to do was get caught staring at you in this bar of all places.

“I’m fine,” Tyler lied through his teeth. “She was never interested in me anyway, and now I have a reason not to be interested in her anymore.” Or a reason to be incredibly jealous and have a few too many drinks… which is exactly what Tyler did.

Later that night, he found himself wandering across the bar to find you. He’d watched Scott and the rest of the Storm Par team leave an hour ago and had been surprised that you’d stayed behind.

Dani and Dexter had attempted to stop him but there was really nothing that could stop Tyler Owens when he set his mind to something. Even if, a few hours ago, Tyler had felt like giving up on winning you over was the best course of action.

But Tyler Owens didn’t give up. Not that easily, anyway. And who was he to give in to someone from Storm Par? He was Tyler Owens, a Tornado Wrangler! The fact that he was incredibly drunk never crossed his mind.

“So,” Tyler said, pulling up the seat beside you. “Scott from Storm Par took you chasin’.”

You spun to look at him, surprised by his appearance. You’d spotted him in the bar a few hours ago but had been too preoccupied at the time to think much of it. You assumed he’d left when you’d seen a few members of his team leave earlier, but apparently not.

“He did,” you nodded. “I take it you saw him and the others here earlier.”

Tyler screwed up his nose. “But you’ve never been storm chasin’ with me.”

You looked at him, amused. He was clearly quite intoxicated. You’d never seen him like this before. Drunk Tyler Owens was quite endearing. “No, I haven’t been.”

“You should,” he said. “I think you haven’t actually been storm chasin’ for real unless you’ve been in my truck, storm chasin’ with me. And you haven’t been, so your trip with Scott doesn’t count.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. This was the man the girls at this very bar had warned you about? The one that flirted with everyone? The poor man was much too drunk to flirt with anyone right now – including you. That probably wouldn’t stop him from trying though.

“Oh, doesn’t it? Well, that’s a shame. I’ll have to tell Scott.”

Tyler shook his head. “Don’t tell your boyfriend I said that.”

“Boyfriend?” You raised your eyebrows. “Who says he’s my boyfriend?”

You saw something like hope spark in Tyler’s eyes. “Isn’t he?”

“He wishes he was,” you admitted, looking down at the roses on the table in front of you. You hadn’t expected him to give those to you, nor to make a beeline to you when they arrived at the bar tonight. Sure, Scott was cute, and he could be sweet when he wanted to be, but when you looked at him… well, that was the problem, really. When you looked at him, you just couldn’t look at him the way you should look at someone you really liked.

Tyler stared at you for a few moments, as if in shock. “I will be right back.”

With that, Tyler jumped up from the chair and bolted straight to the mens bathroom. You watched as the man he was sitting with before, Dexter, sighed and walked into the bathroom after him. Dani, the other member of his team, wandered over to you.

“Sorry about him,” she said, nodding her head towards the bathrooms. “He usually doesn’t get that drunk. He’s much better at holding his liquor than you’d think he is.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine. Will he be okay? If he doesn’t drink that much?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Dani seemed quite certain. “He’ll wallow in his self pity for a while and then he’ll be back to same ol’ Tyler. Anyway, I’m gonna go order an Uber to take us back to the motel. No way Ty’s staying here after that. See you around, yeah?”

Dani left before you had a chance to ask her what self pity he was wallowing in and by the time Tyler and Dexter came out of the bathroom, Tyler was in no state to continue a conversation with you. Dexter gave you a nod as he helped a very green looking Tyler out of the bar and probably into the Uber awaiting them outside.

You finished off your drink and sat in silence, thinking to yourself for a while. For the first time since you’d met Tyler Owens four months ago, you were actually feeling intrigued by him.

It’d been three weeks since your encounter with Tyler Owens at the bar. You hadn’t seen them the following morning, as they’d left the motel early to get chasing, according to your parents, who had taken the keys when they checked out.

They’d been at the motel once since, and you’d been surprised at the disappointment you felt when Tyler had ignored you for the entire time. He hadn’t even said a single hello, nor come up to you and joked or flirted with you like he usually did. You had no idea if he remembered your conversation at the bar a few weeks ago, but your instinct told you that he didn’t. You couldn’t help but be curious at what had caused the switch.

It was out of that same curiosity that you typed Tornado Wranglers into Youtube and clicked on their channel, wondering if you watched some of their videos, you’d get some kind of clue as to why Tyler had changed around you. They had 500,000 followers now, and you vaguely remembered Boone mentioning they had 200,000 when you’d first met them. That was quite an impressive growth for four months, especially for something as niche as storm chasing.

You were about to start scrolling through their videos when you noticed a new one, right at the top, titled Not My First Tornadeo Live Stream. You laughed a little at the name as you clicked on it, not sure what you were exactly clicking onto. But your breath caught in your throat at the sight that greeted you when it loaded.

For the first time, you let yourself notice how attractive Tyler Owens really was.

Tyler and Boone were sat in the front seats of what you assumed was his red truck and, by the looks of it, they were driving head first into a tornado, as they seemed to do quite often judging by the thumbnails and titles of their other videos. Tyler was driving, one hand on the wheel and his other arm leaning against the arm rest.

“Looks like this is gonna be a good one, guys!” Boone cheered, turning to face the camera to the outside of the truck and showing the tornado forming in front of them. “Look at that beauty!”

You furrowed your eyebrows, watching as Boone moved, taking the camera with him and pointing it out of the passenger seat window. He then spun it again, facing it towards himself to show the upper half of his body hanging out the window.

“Boone, get back inside,” you could barely hear Tyler’s voice through the wind on the microphone.

You were surprised when Boone listened to him, moving back inside the truck and pointing the camera at Tyler. You’d never seen them storm chasing before, but you could tell from the look on Boone’s face that Tyler wasn’t quite himself.

“Tyler’s feeling a little out of sorts today,” Boone started. “Well, all month, actually. You need to get laid, Ty. Hell, I know it, you know it, even the tornado knows it.”

“Boone, are we live right now?” Tyler glanced at him.

“Yeah, we are, and the chat agrees,” Boone said, clearly looking at something on the screen. “Oh, hang on – I think we even have some volunteers!”

“Don’t say stuff like that. What if she’s watching?”

She? You’re suddenly intrigued. Who is this mysterious she that Tyler mentioned? He’d never mentioned anything about another woman to you – not like he would ever tell you, since he spent most of his time when he spoke to you just getting on your nerves. At least until the bar. But maybe things had changed. Maybe that’s why he’d been different. Because he had something serious with someone.

Maybe he was no longer the storm chasing flirting hunk that he had been when you’d first met him. That’d explain why he’d stopped flirting with you and started ignoring you. Something uncomfortable settled in your stomach.

Boone scoffed. “Ty, the day that girl watches one of our lives is gonna be the day that tornadoes miraculously decide to stop forming.” He looked at the screen. “Everyone’s asking who she is now, y’know?”

“Thank you so much for telling all–” Tyler paused to quickly glance at the screen himself, “all 284,000 people watching us right now about her.”

“You brought it up, man!” Boone replied defensively. “Hey, maybe this’ll give you more luck with the ladies and help you get over her. Guys, if anyone’s interested, we’re gonna be at–”

“Let’s focus on the tornado, Boone!” Tyler shouted, louder than you’d ever heard him before. But it did the job, bringing Boone’s focus back to the tornado in front of them as they drove closer to it.

Your mind was whirring as you watched them get closer. You were sure Tyler was right with what he’d said at the bar. Maybe you never really had been storm chasing, considering the fact that what you were watching was so different to the chase that Scott had taken you on. And Boone had said something about getting over her. Had Tyler been dating someone? Had it ended badly?

As if on cue, your phone buzzed beside the computer, the screen lighting up with Scott’s name on it. You stared at it for a moment and then picked it up and hit answer.

“Man, you gotta tell me what the hell is going on,” Boone said, grabbing a beer out of the cooler and sitting down on the fold-up chair next to where Tyler was sitting comfortably with a beer of his own. “You’ve been in a bad mood for like a whole month. Even the chat is starting to notice when we’re live during a chase. It’s bad for business.”

Tyler sighed and took a long drink of his beer.

“It’s cause of that girl,” Dani offered from her spot in the doorway of the van. “You know, the one from that motel? Remember when we went to that bar– oh, wait, you wouldn’t remember cause you got drunk by 9 o’clock and Lily took you back to the motel.”

Boone narrowed his eyes at her. “Yeah, I remember a bit, Dani.”

“Guys, come on,” Tyler attempted, breaking his silence. “It’s late, we’re all tired after the last couple weeks. Can we not just enjoy the quiet and relax?”

“No, man, we can’t,” Boone sat up straighter in his chair. “I’m invested now. What happened with that girl from the motel?”

Dani pointed a finger over to where the Storm Par cars were parked. A few of the members of that team were milling about, but most of them had headed upstairs already. “She’s dating Scott from the Storm Par team,” she explained.

Tyler’s eyes narrowed in on Scott, who was pacing back and forward, holding his phone up to his ear. Was he talking to you? Listening to you, hearing your beautiful laughter on the other end of the line? On second thoughts, Tyler didn’t wanna know.

“Oh, wait – I do remember that! Didn’t he give her flowers?” Boone piped up, memories coming back from his very drunken night. Tyler was surprised he was able to remember the detail about the flowers considering how much he’d had to drink that night.

“Yeah, he did,” Lily nodded, joining in the conversation. “And then Ty got so drunk he apparently ran out on her mid conversation so he could go and throw up in the toilet, and Dexter had to go and rescue him.”

Tyler furrowed his eyebrows. “Mid conversation with her?” He looked between Dexter and Dani. “Was I talking to her when I was sick?”

Dexter nodded. “Yeah, we tried to stop you from going over there but it would’ve taken a tornado to hold you back from her, I think. You weren’t there for long before you made the dash to the bathroom though.”

“Yeah, but she seemed to be understanding when I talked to her about it,” Dani added.

Tyler frowned. He had no memory of that at all – what had he been talking to you about? He’d seen you from a distance the last time he’d been at your motel but he’d made a point not to speak to you because of Scott, trying to save himself the heartbreak, telling himself it was his own damn fault for liking a girl who never gave him even the slightest hint of reciprocation. He took another drink of his beer. Whatever you’d spoken about didn’t matter.

“Okay, enough about her. I’m sorry I’ve been in a bad mood, let’s just move on, all right?” Tyler raised his beer in the air. “How about a cheers to being 10,000 subscribers away from 600k?”

It didn’t take Tyler long to go back on his word about moving on.

When they all stayed at your motel again, he had no idea that you’d been watching the livestream a few weeks ago, but what he did know was that he wasn’t going to give up so easily. He’d learnt a lot over the past few weeks of storm chasing. Especially when he saw Scott from Storm Par parked on the side of the road, yelling at one of his team members.

That enough told Tyler that he had to win you over more than ever. He just hoped that in the past few weeks since he’d last spoken to you and since he’d seen you at the bar with Scott, things hadn’t gotten so serious between the two of you that he couldn’t stop it.

Tyler knew that you deserved someone so much better than Scott. Even if that wasn’t him, he wasn’t going to let you end up with someone like that – a man that yelled at his coworkers the way he’d seen Scott yelling at his was not a good man.

He and the team had taken their bags upstairs to their rooms after your parents checked them in and Tyler had been heading back down to the truck to grab a few things they couldn’t carry before when he spotted you. You were walking into the entrance of the hotel from the street.

Tyler quickly forgot about getting the things out of the truck and made a beeline to you. He could tell by the look on your face that you were surprised at seeing him. Probably because he’d ignored you last time he was here – something he regretted – and here he was, walking right up to you.

“Tyler,” you greeted him with a nod of his head and made an attempt to side-step around him, but he was quick enough to step in your way, making it so you couldn’t pass him. You looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “Have you remembered I exist this visit?”

“Listen, about that–”

“Oh, you’re actually talking to me now?”

Tyler huffed. “Yeah, I am talking to you now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to win you over. Like I’ve been trying to do for the past six months.”

“Six months? Tyler, why are you so intent on winning me over?”

Tyler took a deep breath and then spoke. “Because I like you. I have ever since I first met you. And I cannot stand the idea of you being with someone like Scott, so if you’ll just listen to me for a second–”

“Scott?” You cut him off. “You don’t remember that conversation at the bar, do you?”

He paused. “Do you not remember how drunk I was?”

You laughed to yourself. “Well, yes. I do remember you being so drunk you had to run off to the bathroom, you were slurring all your words and you called Scott my boyfriend. I told you that he wasn’t. He still isn’t, and he never will be.”

Scott had called you that day you were watching the livestream to tell you that he wasn’t sure he could put as much time into a relationship with you as he put into his job and chasing. It had been a weight off your chest – one you didn’t even realise you had there.

The look on Tyler’s face almost made you laugh again. He looked completely flabbergasted. You reached up and gently patted his shoulder in slight pity before stepping around him and heading towards the office. Your parents had given you a break, which you’d used to go for a walk and stretch your legs, and they were likely awaiting your return.

Tyler stood in shock for a few moments, but it only took him a second longer to come to his senses. He turned around and called your name, making you turn back to face him. There was a look of amusement on your face.

“Yes, Tyler?”

“Go on a date with me,” Tyler said, the words accidentally being more of an order and less of a question. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean – will you go on a date with me?”

That was really not very gentlemanly of him at all.

“I thought you usually run away and chase tornadoes before it can get serious with girls.”

Tyler shrugged his shoulders. “Thought I’d change it up a bit and chase you instead.” He paused and then laughed. “Okay, that sounded way more creepy than I intended it to sound. Don’t take that too seriously, darlin’.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him and the sound of his laughter. Despite the fact that you had spent the last few months doing nothing but tolerating Tyler Owens, you relented. What could it hurt, anyway? It wasn’t him flirting with you at a bar and running off before things got serious. Besides, you had a feeling you might have judged him a little too harshly based on his reputation at first. “Fine. One date.”

“How does tomorrow night sound?”

“You sure you can fit me into your tornado chasing schedule?”

“Yeah, I’ll pass on a message to the tornados not to happen tomorrow night.”

When Tyler headed back upstairs later that night, he found Boone sitting in his room. He looked at him expectantly as Tyler closed the door behind him. “So, how did it go, man?”

Tyler found it impossible to keep the smile off of his face. “That Storm Par asshole is out of the picture, and I have a date scheduled for tomorrow night.”

For the first time in a long time, Tyler Owens had forgotten to check the weather before leaving the motel. But somehow, it had worked out in his favour. His plans of a romantic sunset picnic were going perfectly. The sky was coloured in bright oranges and pinks. It was the perfect backdrop for your first date.

Tyler opened up the picnic basket from its spot on the picnic blanket underneath you and passed you a sandwich. You were sat just to the right of him, your eyes fixed on the sunset.

“Did my mother make this?” You asked, looking down at the sandwich.

He grinned. “I may have enlisted her help. Y’know, she told me that she prefers me to ‘that other boy she’s been seeing’. Says I have more of a country boy spirit to me, that the other one seemed too much like a city kid.”

You snorted. “I mean, she’s not wrong there. When Scott took me chasing, he specifically made sure we stayed out of the hail and he was very proactive with making sure I always had my window wound up so no water got inside the car.”

If Tyler had been drinking, he was pretty certain he would have spat it all back out. “And you seriously went out with that asshole?” He shook his head. “You’ve seen the greener side of the grass now that you’re here with me, though, haven’t you?”

You scrunched up your nose. “Hmm, it’s not that much greener…”

Tyler gave you a look that made you laugh.

“No, but seriously. Your storm chasing looks much more adventurous than Scott’s. A hell of a lot scarier, as well. You won’t catch me hanging out the side of your truck just to get a good video of it, that’s for sure,” you grinned.

He looked at you for a moment, eyebrows furrowed. “You’ve seen our videos?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a small bite of the sandwich finally. “I watched a little bit of one of your live streams a little while ago. Boone was hanging out the side of your car and was saying something about you needing to get laid.”

Tyler flushed. Oh, no. Out of all of the live streams you could have caught and you’d watched that one? The one where Boone had said tornadoes would be more likely to stop forming all together rather than you watching their videos? “Okay, I’m gonna need you to wipe that whole experience from your brain for me, okay darlin’?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him, shaking your head at his pink tinged cheeks. He was embarrassed. At this point, you honestly weren’t sure that Tyler Owens even knew how to feel embarrassed. But apparently, he could.

“Only if you tell me one thing in return, cowboy.”

“Deal.”

“Why were you so intent on winning me over? And don’t say it’s just because you like me.”

Tyler sighed and leant back on his hands, staring up at the sky which had dulled a little in colour but was still beautiful. “Well, you know that when we first met each other, I liked you straight away. I was flirting with you from the get-go. I think at first it started out as a little bit of a challenge for me. I’m not really used to girls not liking me – and I know that sounds cocky as hell, and it is, but that’s just the truth,” he admitted. “But there was always just something about you that made me wanna get to know you better. And I don’t give up once I set my mind to something, which is why we’re sitting here right now.”

You honestly felt flattered by his words. Amused, too, about his admission that he wasn’t used to girls not being interested in him. But mostly flattered.

“Now you tell me why you said yes to this date,” Tyler said.

There was no point lying or trying to come up with any other answer other than the truth. You also didn’t want to lie to him. He’d been completely honest with you. He deserved the same from you.

“When we first met, I really didn’t like you. I think I made that pretty clear. I wasn’t interested in being just another girl who got flirted with and then abandoned. But I think that night at the bar, the one you don’t remember, was what made me interested in you. It was the first time I’ve seen you completely honest. You weren’t just trying to flirt with me or mess with me. And then you ignored me the next time you saw me.”

“I said I’m sorry about that!”

“I know,” you smiled. “But I just think I said yes because I figured, what the hell? Things with Scott and I were never gonna work out, I was getting jealous over you mentioning your ex on a live stream. If that isn’t a sure sign I like you at least enough to say yes to a date, I don’t know what is.”

Tyler sat up straighter. “Mentioning my ex on a live stream?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Boone was talking about you getting over someone. You don’t remember? It was the same one where he hung out the window. I only watched the one.”

“Darlin’, that wasn’t about an ex.”

“No?”

“It was about me trying to get over you.”

You stared at him for a moment and then burst into laughter, completely unable to stop yourself. Tyler couldn’t help but laugh as well. The amount of miscommunication between the two of you simply because you didn’t communicate was ridiculous.

Both of you had been so busy in your conversation and laughter that neither of you had realised that the sunset had disappeared, replaced with dark clouds. It wasn’t until rain started falling that you both stopped laughing and looked up to the sky.

“Shit, we need to get the stuff back to the truck!” Tyler was quick to jump up, scooping things back into the picnic basket while you grabbed the blanket and rolled it up in your arms.

You both laughed as you ran back to the truck, luckily parked not far away, and shoved the basket and blanket on the back seat. But the rain had intensified so much in the short amount of time that you were both already soaked to the bone by the time you’d gotten to the car.

“We could really use some of those motel towels right now, huh?” You said.

Tyler looked at you and laughed again. There was no rush from either of you to get back into the truck as you stood side by side beside it, looking into each others eyes as the rain pummelled down.

He couldn’t believe he was here right now with you. Standing in the rain, on a date. He’d forgotten to check the weather for the first time in a long time. But he’d known all along just how unpredictable the weather could be. Just like you could be. And just like he could be, too.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, voice loud enough to be heard against the sound of the rain and thunder that had just appeared overhead.

He watched as your lips quirked up into a smile. “Yes,” you nodded in reply.

Tyler wasted no time in placing his hands on your waist and bringing his lips to yours. He’d never kissed anyone in the rain before, and while it was a memorable experience, it wasn’t entirely pleasant, especially due to the rain getting heavier and heavier by the second, but none of that bothered him because he was kissing you. Because it was your lips moving against his, your hands running through his hair, your body pressed up against his.

When you broke apart for air, Tyler rested his forehead against yours.

“So, did I win you over?”

“Hmm,” you smiled. “Maybe if you bring me some towels…”

Tyler let out a laugh and leant in to peck your lips again. “Comin’ right up, darlin’.”

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twisters #twisters x reader #twisters x you #tyler owens fanfic #twisters fanfic #twisters 2024

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spookysteddie · 11 months ago

Text

That Friday Night

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!fem!reader

read part one here

18+ MINORSDNI

cw: alcohol, drugs (weed and cocaine), clubbing, slight Dom!Eddie if you squint, possessive!Eddie, swearing, pet names, oral (fem!receiving), light choking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, edging, creampie. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 4.3k (I'm so sorry)

a/n: First of all, I want to thank every single person who liked, reblogged or made comments about part one. I was shitting myself posting it because (like I said) this is not an original thought. I'd read a few and it gave me this wave of inspiration. I am very proud of this part. It's also a little long (sorry sorry sorry I couldn't stop) . Also I don't think I'll be doing a tag list? When I used to do that no one on the list would like the fic and it was a lot of work. I hope that is okay? Let me know if you want more! I love and appreciate all of you!

...

You weren’t the type of person who got shy. Your entire job is being in front of a camera, telling people what you like, what you wear, the type of music you listen to. You did brand deals and went on lots of trips with people you didn’t know. Public interaction was easy for you and you definitely enjoyed it.

But being personally invited to your favorite band's concert (even if you had tickets already) as their frontman's personal guest? It makes you weak in the knees.

Telling your team about the phone call went about as good as one would expect. Anna and Case frown at you while continuing to say ‘you could’ve let it go to voicemail and we could’ve handled it directly with his people. AND why did you have him send the information directly to you?’

They weren't necessarily wrong in being upset. There were plenty of ways a conversation like that could be twisted and fucked with, especially if, for whatever reason, someone was recording the phone call. It was very easy for them to manipulate and edit that kind of shit, and drama was the last thing you wanted.

However, the rest of the week went by without an issue. The gossip magazines had moved on to something else (though there were a few who continued to speculate about your non-relationship with Eddie. You did your deals, and kept yourself busy. And by the time Friday rolled around you were hardly nervous.

Or that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“Bell bottom star pants. Absolutely,” Hana says from her place on your bathroom counter, practically in the sink. “With that black leather top you love AND the red leather jacket. Oh! Oh! Oh! And the red boots!”

You put the outfit on, looking in the mirror, “you don’t think it’s too… stereotypical?”

Hana looks at you through the mirror, “no such thing. You look great.”

Hana was one of the few people in your life who’d tell you like it is. You could trust her to tell you if her gut feelings were off, or on. She was your best friend and one of the few people who weren’t just here for the exposure. She’s here to be your cheerleader and you were hers.

“Alright, let's get this going before I change my mind which I am two seconds away from doing.”

…

You should’ve changed your mind.

You can hardly keep from throwing up as you're led by security to a private entrance. To get there you have to pass by their tour buses. All you can hear is loud music and whooping from inside. It’s clear they’re running around in there as the bus is rocking and all you can do is pray they don’t see you.

You’re far too sober for the interaction you’ll be having at this current time.

Unfortunately for you, the universe hates you. Just when you think you’re home free, the door opens, almost smacking you in the face.

“Don’t think you can get away that easy, Asher,” Eddie says as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown wide, clearly from whatever drug he’s consumed. More than likely cocaine and weed. His words aren’t slurred so he isn’t drunk, though he does have a beer bottle in his large hands.

God his hands, there have been many times where you’d imagine them wrapped around your throat, cutting off air as he fucks you like he hates you. You bet he could reach you even as he’s eating you out, he’s so tall and long.

You wish you could say the grin you shoot at him is fake, however with the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour and smother you, it's not. You feel like a fucking school girl who has a crush. Your heart pounds so fast in your chest and you swear everyone around you can hear it.

“We weren’t running away,” you say, voice a little breathier than you’d like. “Um this is my best friend-”

“Hana, nice to meet you,” he cuts you off. It’s then that you see his eyes get wide and you know he’s been stalking your profile. Not that you can say anything because you’ve done it… a lot. “I, uh, saw the instagram story you put up earlier.”

Hana smirks, “sure you did, big boy.” She pats his chest and is clearly much braver than you. That’s another thing about you and her, if one of you is feeling not confident, the other makes up for it. Like, on your own, asking for ketchup feels like cutting off a limb, but if she can't do it then it's up to you and vice versa.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, his black t-shirt stretching over his wide shoulder, “want to join us? We have alcohol!”

“We would love that. Wouldn’t we?” Hana looks down at you with her brows raised, still taller than you in heels.

You nod, “yes. Yeah absolutely! Are we allowed to photograph in here?”

You know it’s a stupid thing to ask, but you also don’t want to take a photo of you and Hana and then not be able to post it. And what if you get photos with the rest of the band? Everyone already knows you’re going to be here. Just not… in this tour bus.

Eddie nods, holding out his hand, “you are allowed to do whatever you want, pretty girl. And if anyone has an issue, send them my way, yeah?” He kisses the hand you’ve placed in his before leading you up the stairs of his bus.

It's chaos in there, pure and utter chaos. You turn to look at Hana, silently telling her how insane this is. She nods slightly, but you see the grin on her face. Hana loves this stuff; the parties, the madness, all of it.

Eddie introduces you to the band, pulling you in closer by the waist. “You all need to be on your best behavior. No one touches her. Do you all understand me?” Your heart flutters at how serious he is and it instantly forces his bandmates eyes to fall to your feet. It’s impressive, actually.

Suddenly, a bottle of beer is in your hands, passed to you by Eddie. “Oh… thank you.” You can hardly look at him as a small smile forms on your lips. His attention makes you feel all kinds of funny inside, your stomach doing flips. You know you have to look at him eventually, but he’s just so pretty that it actually hurts.

“Um, so are you excited for your show?” This time you manage to actually drag your eyes to his. He smiles at you, his teeth so beautiful and perfect. It’s when he sits down that you realize that was a stupid question. Of course he’s excited. This is his actual job.

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at you through his lashes, you could kiss him. But you don’t for obvious reasons. Reasons you can't really think of at the moment. Not when he’s looking at you like that. The beer bottle hangs in his right hand between his legs.

“Very. Not much comes close to the feeling I get when we’re on that stage.” He shakes his head, curly hair moving with him, “plus, being able to hear people sing my songs back to me is fucking incredible.”

His hand finds yours, pulling you a little closer. Eddie is testing the waters, you know this. Unfortunately for you, your brain can’t see through the cloud of lust. So, you let him pull you closer, sit you on his lap, and wrap an arm around you.

Your brain does catch up, quicker than expected. “It seems like it’d be incredible. I applaud you cause I could never do that. I have stage fright.”

He blinks up at you, “stage fright? Haven’t you done red carpet interviews and stuff?”

You shift a little, shrugging, “well yes. But that’s different.” You can't stop the awkward laugh that comes out of you. It was true, it was different. You weren’t exactly sure why but it was.

Eddie's thumb moves along your side slightly and it leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“I’m being honest, the lights are so bright that I can’t see everyone in the crowds. Mainly just the front rows. Makes it easier.”

Eddie puts his beer bottle on the ground by his feet before sitting up and grabbing a joint. He’s quiet as he lights it, puffing out smoke to get it going. “Want some?”

He holds the joint towards you, waiting for your answer. You’ve done this before at the frat houses at college. You’ve done it here and there in high school as well. This is second nature, but this time you’re nervous. What if you forget how to inhale? What if you throw up? Any number of things can happen.

Something happens inside you and your brain finally catches up to itself. A small stroke of confidence happens and without taking your eyes off of him, you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the joint and inhaling. His eyes stay locked on yours, his tongue wetting his lips. You pull back, slowly blowing out the smoke.

“Fuckin’ hell.” It comes out in a whisper and you know he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His eyes falling from your eyes, to your lips and back again.

God you want to kiss him. His pillowy lips would feel amazing against yours, you just know it. You start to lean into him, desperate to know if you’re right.

A bang on the door scares the fuck out of the both of you and Eddies boot knocks over his bottle. It’s a good thing he drank most of it, the contents not spilling on the plush carpet.

“Let’s get going guys. Put your dicks back in your pants, we have a show to do.” You know that voice, that’s their manager. He’s the one who called your people to make sure you had all the rules for this evening.

Photos are fine.

Everyone must be tagged.

Nothing negative.

Absolutely no photos of any white substances. Even if it’s sugar.

That last one would be hard considering it was on every flat surface in neat, clean lines.

You go to stand up, but Eddie stops you, his hand tightening on your hip. “Promise I’ll see ya after?”

You nod, “y-yeah of course.”

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, sweet and you don’t want it to end. In fact, you totally forget about all the other people in the room. Your hands find his face, pulling him closer as his tongue begs for permission. And once you grant it, it’s game over.

He tastes like beer and weed and cigarettes and you love it. You want more. You want to get closer.

But it’s not long before the door to his trailer opens up, his manager stepping into the bus. “I said get your dicks and tongues together. We cannot be late.”

…

By the time the show is over you barely have a voice, and you’re sure you’ve never been more turned on in your life. It might seem silly to say, but Eddie's kiss lingered the entire show and all you want is more.

Back stage the band is still running on adrenaline, drinking water for once to try and refuel for the rest of the night. The rest of the night being a club that they frequent. A club you don’t go to because of that exact reason.

“Ohhhhh! There's the prettiest girls I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Eddie's voice booms as security goes to double check you and Hana. “Hey! Leave them alone. They’re with me.”

Security stands back, hands raise like he knows it’ll cause more issues if he doesn’t. You almost feel bad for the poor guy, he was just trying to do his job. Like what if you had a bomb or something?

“C’mon we gotta get outta here.” He laces his fingers with yours before he pulls you along with him. You look over your shoulder, catching Hana's eyes.

Go! She mouths, hanging off Gareth's arm. I’ll meet you there!

And so, you go. Are you nervous? Yes absolutely. Are you going to pretend you aren’t and have some confidence? Yes. Fake it till you make it right?

Eddie opens the door to the car, extending a hand, “ladies first.”

You grin at him as you elegantly slide into the car, “wow. I didn’t know you were such a gentle man.” This time when you giggle, it's cute and self assured.

“Yes, I have been told my entire life that I look,” he slides in sucking in a soft, thinking breath, “mean and scary.”

“You look like a doberman but they’re precious babies.” You mean it too. He looks a little mean and scary, especially in the red lights of the stage. Not to mention the “devil music” (says the media) which can get a little dark. But that’s what makes it great, in your opinion. Plus, he does look like doberman. Like he could probably kill you but would actually not?

“‘Precious babies?’”

You nod, “mhm! I grew up with them. Very sweet and love kisses. Oh! And they each had their own comfort toys.”

“Then maybe I am one because I do love kisses.” He’s closer now, his breath fanning over your face. He still smells like beer and cigarettes mixed in with the smell of his cologne.

It’s your turn to close the gap and planting your lips on his. The kiss is hotter, more intense. One could argue it’s because of the alcohol swimming in your system that makes you so bold. You’re buzzed, but not drunk. It isn’t long before his hands are in your hair, tugging. It makes you moan in his mouth, opening up to him.

He sits back, his hands in your hair pulling you with him, making you sit in his lap. Your legs rest on either side of his hips, your cunt nestled right against the bulge in his pants. He couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. You test the waters by rocking your hips, the friction being so sweet that you’re the one who lets out a moan.

“God, that is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.” He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “Should record it and use it in our next song.”

You hum and grin, “I wouldn’t mind that. Always wanted to be in a song. Can’t sing though.”

He nips at your ear, “that’s my job baby.”

Eddie's large hand grips your hips, stopping your movements. You want to whine, you want to protest. You were so fucking close.

“We’ll save that for when we're back at my place.”

You grin and kiss along his jaw, “who says I’m going back to your place?”

“The way you were just grindin’ against my cock, angel.” He grins, “also with how you’re lookin’ at me.”

“And how am I looking at you? Hmm?”

“Like you want me to fuck you while your brain leaks out your cunt.”

You shudder at the crudeness of his words. No one has ever spoken to you like that and looked like him. The car stopping in front of the club saves you from trying to come up with an answer. One you know will either be embarrassing or non-existent.

He looks over at the paparazzi that is waiting and sighs, “are we going in together or…”

The decision you make is quick. If you’re going to do this, even for one night, you’re going to do it together and let them talk. You give him a quick kiss, “together. Give ‘em something to talk about, yeah?”

So, you do.

The second you’re out of the car, cameras flash and photographers call out a mix of your name and his and you can hardly understand what they’re saying. You don’t stop to pose, letting them only photograph you and him walking hand and hand. Give them crumbs as your manager says. Once you’re in the club, not even needing to show an ID or give a name.

From there the night happens in a blur. The band has the VIP section where bottles of expensive liquor are brought over by women dressed in a bikini. You know how much all of this costs (more than you can afford that’s for sure) but you also know that all of this is on Eddie and the bands tab. He’s told you six times.

So you drink. And you smoke. And you watch pretty white lines disappear, most of which disappear up Eddie's nose. Of course you take videos, vlogging your night and making sure to follow all the rules that were set prior to this meeting. Taking photos to remember the night. Hana is having a blast, taking shots like it’s her job and making out with Gareth in between. Of course she takes photos with you, sitting in your lap and giggling so much the photos come out blurry. But those are your favorite kinds of photos.

“Dance with me?” Eddie says in your ear over the music.

You take the shot that is in your hands, “lead the way.”

The second you’re surrounded by sweaty bodies you feel invisible. You’re sure someone has cameras on you and him but at the moment you don’t care.

Your hips move to the music, back against Eddie's chest while his hands explore your body. His lips move against your neck, sucking a dark mark into it that you know you’ll struggle to cover later. Again, you don’t care. What you do care about is the hardness that you feel against your back.

You spin around, grinning up at him. God he’s so fucking tall you have to tilt your head up a good bit to look at him.

“We should get out of here,” you say as he pulls you into him.

He smirks, “thought you weren’t coming back to my place sweetheart.”

“Seems I told a fib. Now, I need you to take me home and fuck me like you hate me.”

It’s all he needs before he’s grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of the club. The car is there and he quickly pulls you into the back seat. Once those doors are closed, the window tint so dark you couldn’t see inside if you tried, his mouth his on yours. Your stomach flips and the neediness you feel coming off of him. He pulls you till you’re straddling him, legs on either side of his hips. Not really the safest but at this point, all you need is his lips on you.

The ride to Eddie’s consists of lots of kissing, so much so that you know your lips are swollen. You don’t get to see much of Eddie’s house, too focused on getting inside the house and into his bedroom. He drags you up the stairs, your hand is his. And once you’re in his room, he has you pressed up against his bedroom door.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Eddie pushes your jacket off your shoulders while he speaks, his words going straight to your clit. Your mind can barely comprehend that Eddie Munson, the man you’ve had a crush on since they were considered an ‘underground band,’ is currently taking off your clothes.

You do the same to him, pushing his leather jacket to the ground before tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Me? You are so beautiful.”

He hums, popping the button on your jeans, “should we take a poll on who's prettier? Winner takes the loser on a date?”

That makes you laugh, “sounds like a deal. But first, you need to fuck me.”

His eyes nearly go black at that and before you can think, he’s throwing you on this bed. You land with a small oomph. You decide to take a little initiative, pulling off your boots, scooting off your pants and pulling off your top.

Eddie watches, rapt and almost possessed, his eyes scanning your partially naked body. It’s not anything more than someone would see if you posted in a bathing suit, but you can’t help but feel nervous that he isn’t going to like you.

He quickly puts those fears (fears he knows nothing about) to rest as he settles between your legs. His eyes don’t leave yours as he kisses up your thighs. You know there is a wet patch on your underwear and you know he can see it. You do feel embarrassed about it, but at the same time, Eddie is slightly rutting against the bed so he must like it. Right?

You can feel your body heat as he gets closer and closer to your center.

“Eddie, please don’t tease me.” Never have you begged a man. Typically whoever you were in bed with did the begging, much to your dislike. You were desperate for someone to take charge. Now you know why they didn’t. One bruise and they get shit from all your followers. Even if you tell them to leave these men alone.

But Eddie? He wasn’t afraid.

“But it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.”

You huff, squirming exactly like he said as he sits up to pull your underwear down your legs before setting back between them. “Need you to touch me.”

He licks a stripe up your slit, sucking on your clit as he gets to the top. The sound that falls from your lips is beautiful, sweeter than the sound you made in the car. Now Eddie really wants to put you in a song, but the jealous, primal side of him never wants someone else to be able to hear your moans.

In fact, he doesn’t want to think about any of the other men who’ve heard you make these sounds. Murder wasn't really on his list of things he enjoyed. Bar fights? Yes. Murder? No.

“You make the prettiest sounds, sweetheart. S’very hot.” He slides two fingers inside you with little resistance, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside you. The stretch feels good, your hips moving on their own, riding Eddie's fingers.

You're close, the build up of this moment really getting closer than you originally thought. “Squeezin’ my fingers so tight, baby. Are you close?”

You nod, afraid if you speak you’ll say something ridiculous.

But that isn’t good enough for Eddie. “Words.”

“V-very.”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say because he pulls his fingers from inside you, the emptiness making you gasp, “no! No, no, no I was so close!”

He laughs as he pushes his pants and boxers off his body. “Exactly. Want you to cum with my cock inside you.”

You look down between your bodies and your eyes widen. He was big and you accidentally voice what you’re thinking, “fuck… not gonna fit.”

His laugh drags your eyes back to him, his cock moving through your slick and bumping your clit. “Baby you are so wet that I have no doubt it’ll fit.”

You don’t have time to be embarrassed about it because Eddie is pushing inside you. The size of him stretching you makes you feel like he’s going to split you in half. But you don’t care, the burn just turns you on more and more and before you know it he’s seated inside you fully.

“Fuck, Eddie.”

Eddie is panting, trying to keep still so he doesn’t cum before he wants to. “Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. A man could become obsessed with this pussy.”

He moves right as you begin to speak, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. He feels like he’s everywhere. “W-witchcraft”

He fucks you harder, his cock hitting your cervix. You’re definitely going to have a bruise there but it's so worth it.

“Didn’t know you were into dark shit. S’my schtick.”

You wrap your legs around him, orgasm building again, “more alike than you originally thought huh?”

He wraps a tattooed hand around your throat, squeezing gently and making your head spin, “oh, angel, I knew how alike we were the second you told everyone how bad you wanted to fuck me.”

“C-can you blame me? Knew you’d fuck me just h-how I like.”

You clench around him making him hiss, “yeah you need someone who will take control huh?”

The hand around your neck slides down your body till he finds your clit, circling it.

“Oh god! Please.”

“I can get used to you prayin’ to me.” His thrusts are losing rhythm (something he’s usually very good at keeping) and you know he’s close. “Cum baby. I need it.”

And it’s all you need to fall over the cliff and into bliss. He follows you, coming inside you while you squeeze around him. You both moan each other's names and you sigh as you come down.

Eddie breaks the silence first, “that was… amazing.”

You hum in agreement as he slides out of you and curls up beside you. You take a moment before getting up and cleaning up in the bathroom. When you come back Eddie has left out an old Corroded Coffin t-shirt and some boxers. And once they’re on, you slide back into his bed, laying your head on his chest.

“We should put that poll up, huh? I’m itching to win this bet.” Eddie laughs as he says it and before you know it, you two are finding a photo the both of you like and posting it on your story with the caption, ‘which one is prettier? Honesty is the best policy.’

“And now… we wait.”

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #modern!rockerstar!eddie munson x influencer!fem!reader #rockstar!eddie x fem!reader

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cameronsprincess · 1 year ago

Note

Idk if you can make this into a fic (if you can please do so) but I just wanted to share this thought: so it’s starting to get colder outside and the pogues suggest going in the hot tub but you don’t get and just sit on a chair nearby and then you’re offered a drink and you decline and then you’re offered some weed and decline and someone is like “y/n not going in the hot tub, not drinking, not smoking, you pregnant or something” in a joking tone but then you just smile at jj and everyone realizes that you are and you tell jj that you were gonna tell him tonight before you guys went to sleep.

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of alcohol and weed, jj fluff!🥰

loved this request, unsure how i feel about my execution of it, hopefully i did it justice, i loooove me some jj fluff 🥺🤍

“It’s cold out here, who wants to get in the hot tub?” you hear John B ask.

All of your friends had excitedly nodded at the idea, rushing inside to get themselves ready, no one noticing that you had remained seated. You crossed your arms, rubbing your hands up the sides of your arms as you waited on your friends to return.

JJ was the first to emerge back outside, his face pulled into a frown when he noticed you hadn’t moved from your spot.

“What’s wrong princess, don’t wanna join us in the Cat’s Ass?”

You giggle at the horrendous name he’d given the hot tub, shaking your head as you lift your head to meet his blue eyes.

“No i’m okay”

JJ frowns more, plopping in the chair beside you and placing a warm hand on your clothed thigh.

“Is somethin’ wrong?”

You give him a small smile, placing your hand on top of his large one.

“No ‘m fine, promise”

He nods his head, ultimately letting the subject go and hopping into the hot tub, all of your friends joining him shortly after.

“Y/N are you sure you don’t wanna join us?” Sarah asks, her arms tossed over the side of the tub.

“No i’m okay Sare, thank you though”

Your friends glanced around at one another, their eyes finally landing on JJ who just gives them a small shrug.

“I’m gonna go grab some beers, J, you still rollin’ up?” John B asks as he pulls himself from the tub, quickly wrapping a towel around himself.

“Yeah already got some rolled, we’ll light one up when you get back”

John B grins widely, giving a small nod and rushing into the chateau, reappearing minutes later with 6 beers in hand. He begins passing the beers out, slowly walking toward you last, offering you the final beer.

You awkwardly cough, shaking your head ‘no’. “ ‘M good JB, thank you though”

John B narrows his eyes, his head tilted slightly to the side, “What’s up with you Y/L/N? You’ve never been one to turn down a cold beer, or time in the hot tub”

You awkwardly laugh, unsure of what to say to that. You did have your reasons for declining everything so far, but you weren’t ready to speak on it, not until you talked to JJ first.

“I’m just not feeling the best” you lie, but it wasn’t a complete lie, you hadn’t been feeling like yourself lately.

“Well are you at least gonna smoke with us? That might help!” Kiara chimes in, the joint in her hand as she takes a small puff of the substance.

“No, I-I’m okay”

Your friends were beginning to make it very hard to keep your secret, offering you all the things they knew you loved but couldn’t partake in at the moment.

Pope chuckles, “What, are you pregnant or something? No hot tub, no beer, no weed”

His tone was joking, but the smile on your face and the soft look you’d given JJ was confirmation enough for everyone.

“Wait- You’re pregnant?” JJ asks, hopping up and out of the tub, rushing to your side quickly.

He drops to his knees, his arms flying around your waist as he rests his head softly on your stomach.

You run your fingers through his soft blond locks, “Yeah, I just found out today. I was gonna tell you before we went to bed tonight, but I guess now works too”

You hear the whoops and hollers from your friends, everyone rushing from the tub and surrounding you and JJ. You felt your eyes well up with tears, the happiness surrounding you making your heart swell.

JJ chokes out a laugh, his eyes filled with tears as well as he runs his hand over your belly, “My girl is having my baby”

You giggle, letting a tear fall from your eyes, “Yes, we’re having a baby, J”

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plotsignificanthaircut555 · 3 months ago

Text

Honey Cappuccino with Cinnamon

Kento Nanami x Barista! Reader SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY

You get a new patron in your cafe, a dashingly handsome, well mannered, well spoken, Kento Nanami.

wc: 13k, whoops

Content: Smut, Fluff, comfort, kind of a slow burn, kissing (ooooo!!), sex, brief fear/violence (but not sexual), small curse appearance, cunnalingus, reader is female, smoking, swearing no spit (r u guys proud or disappointed), bad ending

Ao3, Masterlist, Coffee headcannons. dont reproduce my work or post it anywhere else. i came up with it out of my head. Enjoy.

You loved your morning openings, most people would have preferred to sleep in, enjoy their mornings at home, take their time getting ready for the day, all while the sun was settled in the sky. But you loved waking up in the misty dark, walking in the clean, morning air, and setting up the cafe before the sun found its way out of bed. The hour and a half before the cafe opened felt like you were the only person in the entire world, total serenity. You could make your own coffee, just how you liked it, luxuriate in the smells of last night's prepped pastries baking to perfection in the oven, work at your own pace while listening to an audiobook or a playlist that you chose. It was the time you looked forward to most throughout the week; your perfect hour of bliss. Uninterrupted bliss.

The ringing of the door chime was your indicator to return to reality and remember that the cafe didn’t exist solely for your own personal enjoyment, but was in fact a buzzing success. From 6 AM opening to 7 PM closing the cafe would see anywhere between 300-700 customers a day. The large majority of them just stopped in, ordering, and leaving upon receiving their coffee and scone or whatever it was they wanted. A handful you saw nearly every day. You, of course, knew their names, you were a professional. But your first rung of memory was always their orders.

The gentleman that comes on his bike with his canvas backpack -- a double espresso with equal parts hot water to the espresso.

The woman who comes with her daughters every morning -- two blended caramel frappes for them, three shots of espresso over ice in a large cup for her. (she pours a protein shake over it and mixes it together. She’s been trying to get you on it. You tried it once, she's onto something.)

The college kid whose eye bags have doubled in size since they first came in. -- Iced americano, one more shot than you feel is ethical each time.

Three shot soy latte guy, small decaf mocha woman with a fresh set of nails every time you saw her, long pull espresso always in a porcelain cup for the older woman with the faded purple lipstick, etc. etc.

The mental list of orders must have been a mile long but you kept them all in your heart. You have seen people before job interviews, between shifts, between jobs, on breaks, days off, first dates, break ups, going to work, coming from it, anything in between. Second only to your sacred alone time, was the way you got to know the people who continued to come. Your position as a customer service worker was not without the obvious dregs of complaints and entitlement from the comers and goers, who never asked your name or about your day, and always had something wrong with their drinks, but it was all overshadowed by the kind faces you recognized so well. And nothing could compare to seeing someone for the second or third time, knowing you had secured another person a favorite coffee shop where they could feel comfortable and know that this small, but vital, piece of their life would be taken seriously and made carefully, exactly to their tastes. You liked giving people that peace, a little taste of your own.

This morning when you opened, you got into the cafe at 4:30. Early for the 6:00 opening but you wanted to enjoy the languid morning hours a little extra today, and you did. You took your time setting the pastry display, straightening up the table, setting up the self service bar. Before you knew it, there was only a half hour left before opening. The large drip brewers were prepped, ready to fill the cafe with the rich smell of fresh coffee at the touch of a button, the last batch of lemon scones were in the oven, you had just finished counting the drawer for the register and were about to spend the last twenty minutes before turning on the open sign in sweet, perfect silence, enjoying your own favorite coffee when the bell chimed.

“We’re not open yet,” your eyes stayed closed, prepping for the first sip of your perfect morning indulgence.

“Oh, I’m sorry. The sign is on, I didn’t realize.” A rich, oaky voice filled the echoey cafe.

You opened your eyes and turned to face the voice. The owner of the voice was a tall man, over six feet, a full, broad figure clad in a tan coat over a dark blue button up. The outer layer couldn’t conceale the way his shirt stretched over his chest, buttons meeting, but just barely. A queer looking yellow tie spotted almost like a cheetah or a banana thankfully covered the higher up, more stretched gaps. But what struck you the most was his face, hard lined cheekbones, long, slender nose, hard set jaw, thin but full rosy lips, a set of unique green lensed glasses resting over his eyes. He was stunning, completely beautiful, the kind of beauty that could strike a god down to earth for the chance of love. You felt your throat tighten, your mouth fall open.

“I-uh, Sorry.” And yet you still couldn’t figure out how to respond.

He took a moment to look at you, then checked his watch, pulling up his sleeve for you to see the joint of his wrist. Behind him you could see the white neon light of the open sign shining through the front window. Your face heated, mortified at how unprofessional you were being, gawking at him.

“Oh. I am early-- I’ll come back. I’d hate for you to star----”

“No!” you interrupted, waiting just a touch too long before continuing, “You’re barely early, excuse my flippancy, please come in. What can I get you?”

You took your place behind the counter, he moved to the other side of the counter, he scanned the menu board above your head, turning his chin up slightly, giving you a view of the muscles in his neck. Your mouth watered. You brought your eyes down to the screen in front of you, desperate to quiet the thoughts in your mind.

“I really would hate for you to start work early. Especially for my sake I can wait outside.”

“Don’t be silly! I couldn’t have you out there waiting when I can help you now.”

You absolutely could, and had, on many occasions done exactly that. Letting the morning rush wait until operating hours no matter how early they wanted to “just squeak in super fast!”. But you wanted to keep him inside, bring him closer, give him anything he wanted. Hell, if he turned out to want all the money in the register you probably would have at least considered it.

The rich voice filled your ears once again, “A cappuccino, please. With just a bit of honey, please.”

Great order, and so polite.

“You got it.” You plugged it into the computer, the total appearing on his side of the screen, “dry or wet?”

He cleared his throat abruptly, eyes wide behind the thick frames, “uh…?”

You didn’t realize how it came out, “more milk or more foam?”

He collects himself, “uh wet, then.”

You nod, “any preference of milk?”

“Whatever you have is fine.”

You started the espresso grinder, the whirring filling the soundless air of the cafe, “this is a cafe, we have like six milks.”

He nods, “right. Um…whatever you use I’m sure is fine.”

You mirror his nod, “oat is, then. Anything else I can get you?”

“One of those croissants, please.” He gestured to the pastry case, ten perfect flaky butter croissants sitting beautifully.

“Great choice.” You smile, “I’ll get your drink.”

You turned back toward the espresso machine as he moved to start paying on his screen of the register. You were grateful to have an excuse to turn away from him, away from the magnetism of him, to have something to focus on and hopefully regain an ounce of your composure.

Nanami collected his breath, grateful to have your sparkling gaze out of his immediate eyeline. It takes more focus than would normally be necessary to complete his payment. Fingers trembling over the ‘no receipt’ button, his eyes drifted up again. The large espresso machine in front of you hissed and dripped the fragrant, rich liquid into the small espresso cup underneath.

“Is this your first time in?” Your voice rang like a bell in the empty cafe, you were pouring milk into a metal pitcher as you spoke to him, not missing a drop.

So much ease, precision, the routine of skilled work over years of honing, everything was perfectly measured, foamed, and stirred. You clearly took care in what you did, your hands were so still and even as you tipped the small fridge door open with your foot to slip the milk carton back inside. The brief scream of the milk knocked him back into his senses.

“Yes.” He answered, hoping to keep his internal chastisement out of his tone.

You nodded watching the milk whirlpool in its small silver pitcher, “I thought so. I don’t think I’ve seen you in before. I’m basically always here, and I think I would have remembered you.”

A blush heated your cheeks, but you discarded it as steam, pulling the wand from the pitcher and tapping its bottom against the counter. You poured the honey sweetened espresso into a small to-go cup, and topped it with a fair serving of water before meeting the lip of the pitcher with the liquid so the foam could slide perfectly across.

Nanami watched the smile slide across your lips, cheeks pulling upward, a satisfied sigh leaving you as you perfected the drink. His drink. His.

He shouldn't be acting like this, he just stopped in to get a quick coffee before returning to the school. The last assignment had been grueling, he was only just finishing it. Talk about Overtime. This was ridiculous, he had been in an awful mood before walking in, miserably dragging himself through the doors of the first lit up cafe he stumbled across. And yet here he was, his previously drained heart beating, no palpitating, in his chest at just a few exchanges. You finally turned back around to face him, presenting the drink to him without its lid, letting him see the perfect line of dusted cinnamon across the foam cap.

“Here you are!” You beamed at him, hoping to see a flicker of a smile or some kind of praise.

He didn’t smile but you thought maybe you saw something soften in him. He accepted it across the counter, bringing it up to his mouth and taking a sip. Then he smiled. He couldn’t help it. It was perfect. Perfectly sweet from the honey, but still letting the robust bitterness of the espresso shine, the body of the oat milk complimenting the two perfectly, making the whole concoction taste like a cinnamon and oatmeal cookie that he’d indulge in in some private, anonymous, curseless cafe that he thought only existed in his mind. But he may have found it.

“Wow. It’s excellent.” His lens-guarded eyes warmed at you through their green filters, “Thank you.”

A chrysalis was twitching in your heart, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

A moment passed as you waited for him to speak again, praying this interaction wouldn’t be over yet. The chime of the bell at the door broke you away from him, turning to see the beginning trickle of the morning flood enter. He was a nice enough guy, same thing every morning: four shots of espresso with two brown sugars in a porcelain mug that he would sit at one of the back tables in and read the morning paper no matter how ungodly early it was, but right now you wished he never dared step into your shop in the first place. When you looked back and saw the end of Honey Cappuccino’s motion to check his watch, he met your gaze once again.

“Oh! Your croissant, I'm sorry.” You breathed out, kicking yourself for being foolish enough to think he was lingering to talk to you more, not waiting for the rest of his order.

“Right.” You heard from above you as you opened the pastry case.

You retrieved the biggest, prettiest pastry for him and put it gently into a paper bag, straightening up to hand it to him.

“No one going to work this early should go without breakfast.” You smiled, hoping to soften the blow of your unprofessional behavior.

He nodded, accepting the bagged pastry, “Thank you, for indulging me so early. Next time I assure you I will be within the operating hours.”

The chrysalis stirred again and you giggled its rhythm, “Don’t you worry. You come back anytime, okay?”

He nodded again, before moving toward the door. You couldn't help the way your rubbernecked his exit all the way past the edges of the large shop windows. Turning back to the register and seeing your early bird regularly standing before you. Thankfully you knew his regular order by heart and could plug it in and nod through polite conversation without having to stop your rumination

He had said Next time, implying he would come in again. You said a silent prayer to nothing that he would. At least so you could redeem yourself. So you could remind yourself and demonstrate to him that you were a consummate professional. The rest of your day was spent smoothly, that tapping, fluttering feeling in your chest was quiet and still. You made drinks, cleaned and stocked the store, were courteous and charming with customers and coworkers alike. But you couldn’t get the man from this morning out of your mind, you didn't even ask what his name was. He would only be Honey Cappuccino Guy, for now, and that would have to be enough for now.

Nanami entered the school still nursing the last dregs of the cappuccino, savoring the taste of honey and the memory of you in tandem. The high of your interaction was beginning to wane, the head and body ache of a night of reconnaissance and curse slaying an albatros growing denser and denser around his neck. He longed to finish his report and head home as soon as possible, already budgeting the allotment of time that felt appropriate for an early afternoon nap before resuming the chores he had left unfinished at home in a rare act of laziness. He hadn’t eaten his croissant yet, finding it rude to eat on the train, and his stomach felt barren, it seemed every part of him was echoing in discomfort. An echo that was seemingly non-existent in the warm light of the cafe.

He sighed, rounding the corner to the small extra room that had been designated as his “office”. Not being a member of the teaching staff at Jujutsu High, there was little necessity for him to have a space of his own on its campus. He could easily complete his necessary paperwork in the common areas, or even at home. But Yaga had insisted on marking one of the empty offices as his, with some encouragement from a certain white haired sorcerer. The dwindling number of active sorcerers in the area was certainly a motive to keep each other close. So Nanami obliged, stopping by for meetings, assignments; both at their beginnings and upon their completion.

This last assignment had been grueling, extending too far into the night, he almost felt dishonest filling out the time card associated with the final report. Nearly twelve straight hours of traveling, hunting, and fighting. It was a miracle he wasn’t delirious. He stretched back in his chair, the lactic acid that longed to settle in his back and legs crackling and redispursing. He found himself again remembering the lilt of your voice, the smell of lemon and sugar and fresh roasted grounds in the air of the cafe. The sense of peaceful indulgence carried him through the next two hours of work before he could drag himself home to shed the day and pass out, dreaming amorphously about flaky pastries and kind expressions.

It would be almost two weeks before you would see him in the cafe again. You were restocking the milks in the small fridge underneath the counter that housed the espresso machine when the bell rang. It had been a dreadfully slow morning, mostly regulars and single, simple drink orders. It had given you plenty of time to clean, and fantasize. The large, well dressed man from eleven days ago hadn’t yet left your mind. His voice, his stature, his odd clothing, his demeanor. You were positive your memory had to have been generous the more and more you recollected the meeting, surely no one person could be so handsome. So charming, so, in the truest sense of the word, attractive. But when he stepped through your threshold once again, you found that your memory was ironclad. Tall, broad, sculpted features, odd glasses, leopard print tie, pristine styled hair, every detail of him was perfect. Your breath caught in your throat, but even that couldn’t interrupt the smile that widened on your lips.

“It’s you.” you all but gasp out.

He crosses toward the counter, a faint smile showing itself only on the edges of his lips, eyes wide and set on you, an expression you couldn't realize was mirroring your own awe.

“You can say that about anyone. It’s always true.” His voice was just as smooth and even as before, you felt an all too familiar stirring in your chest.

You laugh, “Good point. I didn’t expect to see you back. Thought I might have scared you off.”

“Certainly not!” He can feel the burn in his cheeks, “You were kind enough to extend your hours for me. How could I not return to at least say thank you.”

“Oh!” you chastised yourself for the twinge of disappointment you felt realizing he wasn’t here with any motive other than politeness, “It was no trouble really, it’s like the easiest drink in the world to make.”

He nods, “well, Thank you nonetheless, your work got me through the rest of mine.”

You let out a low whistle, “That was one hell of a clock in time. Do you always go in that early?”

“I was finishing up actually. Long project, I…lost track of time.” He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to provide you with more information, ordinarily he would dodge questions in their entirety. Truthfully he would ordinarily never be in this situation to begin with, never having been one for casual small talk.

“Wow…that’s intense.” you couldn't imagine working such a strange schedule, what extreme hours like that must do to a person, “what is it you do?”

This is exactly why Nanami does not engage in casual small talk, does not approach topics that could lead back to sorcery or jujutsu or anything related to his job, why he does not talk to the pretty girl behind the counter. Because now he has to lie. His heart sinks, but he steels himself.

“I'm a sort of exterminator.” He answers smoothly. Not technically a lie.

You hum, seeing him stiffen; you’ve seen this before, folks can be cagey about their professions, and particularly assumptions made about them based on what they do, you knew when not to pry, “Hm. You must have to be on your feet a lot.”

He’s grateful you chose a surface level observation instead of prying further.

“Well what can I get for you today? Got another long one in the books? Should I break out the hard stuff?” You smile warmly at him, catching his eyes.

It's then that you realize he isn't wearing those peculiar glasses that he had before. Thick green lenses absent, and amber eyes revealed in their stead. The outermost rings of his irises were dark, oaky brown, his lashes were long but faint, small freckles now visible across his nose and dappling the tops of his high, hollow cheeks. Not only was your memory not being generous, he had somehow become more handsome. You took in a shaky breath, trying to ignore the stirring inside of you.

“One cappuccino with honey, please. Just the same as last time.”

“You got it!” You tap the corresponding buttons.

He pays with a card, a chime sounding as he taps against the reader. He is grateful for an excuse to look away, it feels like every time he looks at you, you’re looking back at him, so intently. He feels studied by you, hot under your gaze. He wonders to himself if the blush he feels creeping up the back of his neck is visible to you. Your smile earlier made it begin its journey from the warmth of his chest up toward the tops of his ears. His harness feels too tight, his jacket feels stuffy and restricting. He reaches up as you finish up the payment across from him and tugs his tie looser, routinely unbuttoning the first button of his shirt. It's then that he notices his hands are sweating.

Fuck me. Pull it together. He pleads to himself accepting the receipt as you turn away.

Back facing him you begin weighing out the espresso, you can hear his footsteps as he steps off to the side. You catch your breath, gearing yourself up for your next move. The drink comes together quickly. Honey, espresso, steamed and frothed oat milk, a small dusting of cinnamon. You giggle to yourself about the cinnamon on the creamy foam mirroring the dusting of freckles along his face. God, you're pathetic. You roll your eyes at yourself and inhale. You turn back to the counter before stalling. He wasn't waiting at the counter and you had, once again, been too frazzled to ask his name.

“Uh…H-honey cappuccino?” Your voice wavered weakly.

He crosses over from the other side of the cafe where he had been admiring the community board, where local artists would hang their work, organizers would add flyers for local events etc. He traversed the room in three long strided steps.

“I’m sorry, I usually ask for a name, I forgot.” You explained.

He accepts the paper to-go cup between you, “It’s Nanami, thank you.”

“It's nice to meet you.” You smile.

“And your name?” He is quick to inquire.

You tell him, smile widening, he nods and repeats it softly. He sips from the black lid, ignoring the initial shock of heat. It's just as perfect as before, a small sound of approval resonates from his chest, you wish it had less of an effect on you than it does.

“It’s perfect. You’re very talented, thank you.” He offers a small, polite bow before sipping again.

“Like I said, it's an easy drink.” you shy away from his compliment.

“Well, I’m grateful.” He begins to step away from the counter.

“Thank you. Have a good rest of your day.” You put on your most professional and least loaded smile, “Come by and see us again Mr. Nanami.”

He nods at you, smiling as he turns and exits the cafe.

And he did come by again. And again. And again.

Beginning as once a week, then twice a week, soon he begins to factor a third visit into his weekly routine. Coffee the same every time, including sometimes a pastry; taking a particular liking to the ginger and poppyseed scones, and the oat and lemon frosted cookies, but more often than both leaving with a simple croissant. One some trips the conversation if brief; shallow, single day focused conversation topics: weather, traffic within the cafe, the pastry selection you had out that day. On other days he would ask you questions: when did you learn to make coffee? Have you always lived in this area? Etc. Some days you would be so bogged down with making orders upon his arrival that one of your coworkers would be the one taking his order instead. You quieted the rising jealousy as you heard your fellow barista giggle and swoon at his rich, staccato voice. On those days you would write his name cleanly on the side of his cup and make sure to linger at the drop off counter as you called his name for his drink.

“Busy in here, huh?” You baited, handing him the steaming cup.

“It seems my favorite secret cafe is not so secret anymore.” Nanami’s voice sounded truly disappointed.

You faked insult, “You think you discovered this place? I’ll have you know we’re a local staple!”

He let out a small laugh, sipping his drink and sighing, “perfect as always, thank you.”

“Of course Nanami, anytime.” You blush at his praise, it never gets old.

“WIll you be here next Wednesday?” He asked.

He had never asked for your schedule before. You tried your best to hide your excitement.

“I will! I’m opening. So feel free to stop by thirty minutes before if you're desperate.” you teased.

He let out a guilty laugh, “ Well, I'll see you then. Well within operating hours, I promise.”

You nod, a bit too quickly, “Sounds good.”

He smiled and nodded again, turning and exiting.

Your favorite coworker who had been working the register approached you, following your eyeline as it tailed him out of the cafe.

“Planning on asking him out soon?” She poked your side.

“No way, Nanami?” You dismissed, “Yeah right, he’s just being nice.”

“Right.” She begins, “because he comes here every week because the coffee here is just that good.”

Her tone is cutting and sarcastic, she pushes your shoulder lightly before returning to the register, leaving you to your own thoughts. You hadn’t considered the fact that he could actually be coming here for you, of course you hoped and fantasized about exactly that, but faced with someone else’s observation you felt…strange. Embarrassed and exhilarated. You wondered what would come on Wednesday.

“Thanks for taking me to coffee Nanami-san, You really don’t have to treat me!” Ino Takuma beamed as he walked into the cafe.

He was beyond excited when his mentor had asked him to have a meeting today after training to discuss the upcoming recommendations. Nanami held the door for Ino as he babbled his way inside, reciting his thank yous over and over.

“You’re welcome, Ino. I asked you here because I have something to discuss with you. Consider it an expensed lunch.”

“Still! Thank you so much. I’m honored that you would make time for me, I know how demanding the schedule of a grade one sorcerer can be!” Ino continued, wanting to showcase how prepared he was to take on the demand himself.

“Lower your voice,” Nanami chastized and pushed up his glasses, shielding his eyes as he scanned the population of the cafe. It must be a slow day, only three patrons to be seen. One sitting at the bar top, reading the newspaper, and a couple seated in the front corner, focused on splitting a pastry right down the center with a small butter knife.

“Nanami!”

Ino watched as the muscles in Nanami’s neck appeared. Not in frustration or exertion, the way he had seen so many times before, but a completely new reflex. Dare he think, excitement? He watched carefully as his mentor was urged forward by the woman behind the counter, the beautiful woman behind the counter. Nanami was quick to cross to the empty counter, Ino trotted behind with wide, watching eyes.

“Good morning! It’s still morning isn’t it?” You smiled craning to see the wall clock. When you turned back your gaze fell to the slightly younger man behind Nanami. He was probably twenty or twenty one, his frame similarly toned and cultivated, hair shaggy and smile twinkling, “You brought a friend. Wait! Is this your brother?”

You looked closely between the two men, both handsome, both well made men with cut features and toned, imposing bodies. A similar height, a similar build. The younger man’s coloring was slightly darker; Nanami’s eyes amber, where his were deep oak, Nanami’s blonde hair contrasted against the other’s shaggy brown hair, but you could see where a family resemblance would reside.

“No.” Nanami answers cooly, much to Takuma’s chagrin (despite its honesty), “Ino is an apprentice of mine, I’m treating him to lunch today because of his hard work.”

“Well, congratulations, it’s nice to meet you. What can I get you both?” You smile, side glancing at Nanami.

Ino blushes through his order, taken by how magnetic you feel when you talk to him. Privately watching how Nanami listens closely when you talk, uses his eyebrows more in his responses to you. You know his order, you sound flirtatious as you ask if he wants his “usual”, Ino sees as Nanami’s lips curl as he nods and selects two pastries from the case to accompany their lunch. Was Nanami…flirting? It seemed everytime you would turn your back, Nanami was catching his breath, and as soon as you returned he hung on your every word. Ino was beyond delighted, he had never seen this side of his mentor before. He watches as you complete the payment, fluttering your lashes and stringing your words together. When the order is complete he follows Nanami to a table in the back of the cafe.

“Ino, I wanted to ask you…”Nanami struggled with the next part of his request. He had found himself at a loss for what to do recently, feeling his standing with you plateau, “I hope you will forgive the candor of my question, In fact I- I am slightly embarrassed to even be asking you,”

“Go ahead, please. You have helped me so much, I’d be happy to try and help however I can. ” Ino had a growing suspicion as to what could have been the subject of his inquiry.

“The…barista, what do you think of her?”

Nanami prepared himself for anything that could come next. Ino could laugh at him, Ino could laugh in pity before explaining that it was pathetic for a man of his circumstance to be entertaining the idea of a relationship. Ino could chastise him for reading into the kindness of someone who is actively working customer service. Ino could express his disappointment of not talking about the recommendations. He could call upon Nanami’s embarrassment for his own inexperience with flirtation. Nanami prepared himself to be exposed, shamed and cursed.

“Oh! So you know she really likes you, I think she seems funny and smart. She’s really pretty, like really beautiful. I like her outfit, and hairstyle.” Ino began just as eager and delighted as he had been when Nanami invited him to lunch.

“Wait, what do you mean she likes me?” Nanami’s brows inched together, although subtly.

“Oh! Well, she smiles a lot when you talk and listens really carefully, and she called your name when we got here and…”

“That’s her job, she has to be polite and accommodating.”

“Sure,” Ino nodded, “But she seemed really interested in you, not so much with me. I don't know, I guess, but it just seemed like she liked you” Ino shrugged.

Nanami was lost in thought as Ino trailed off. Could you really like him? Your encounters were so brief, he was so stilted around you, or at least he felt as much. You were accommodating and kind because you were good at your job, it was only natural that he recognized it as charm. He missed your call of his name, signaling the drinks he and Ino had ordered were ready.

“I’ll get them!” Ino perked up, standing quickly and heading to the pick up counter.

You pushed the two fresh drinks forward as the shaggy haired mentee approached the counter. He had the floppy stride of a well trained dog, bouncy and excited as he hurried over.

“Thank you so much!” He beamed.

“You’re so welcome, enjoy. Your food should be out soon!” You smiled back.

“Hey, can I ask?” Takuma leaned in conspiratorially, “does he come in here a lot?”

You couldn't help but indulge the genuine curiosity in his voice, “A few times a week for about two months. How long have you been working with him?”

“About two years.” He answered, “I’m so glad too, he usually never takes someone under his wing like this!”

You smiled, cocking your head to the side, “So he’s a big deal at work, huh?”

Takuma nodded, “Oh yeah! He’s focused and hardworking, brave and careful.I hope to be half as skilled as he is one day.”

Your smile grew at the extrapolation. It was praise befitting of the man so dedicated to his work that he could be seeking out coffee at five in the morning at the end of his shift. The younger man nodded and couriered the drinks back over to the table. You thought you saw as Nanami’s eyes flashed over to you, but behind his glasses it was hard to be sure. You smiled all the same, just in case. You returned to your work, Ino and Nanami would both wave goodbye to you with mannered ‘thank you’s’ offered as they left after their meeting. You watched as Nanami held the door over his mentee’s head, ushering him out and looking back over to you. You looked away quickly, and when you looked back he was gone. Your lower lip settled in between your teeth, replaying your memories of him in a flash before returning your attention to the steaming milk whirlpooling in front of you.

You didn’t see Nanami for three weeks after that.

You were today’s closer, your shift already dragging far into the afternoon. The morning crowd was tired, desperate, and reliant upon memorized routine above all else. Simple orders, simpler conversations. The evening crowd was far more likely to experiment. They are unpredictable en masse in a way that your morning regulars were not, making it so that you had to be that much more attentive when discussing menu options. Not only that but you also had to clean and secure all parts of the cafe before you could leave. On a usual day this is fine, although a complicated and oft tedious dance, but today it is much worse. Your usual array of alternative milks were on backorder meaning you were running out more and more with every order, with now replacements on their way. Also dwindling in stock were multiple menu items, including both pastries and lunch menu components, flavors, even lids for to-go cups had started to wane faster than anticipated. You recalled a conversation with your manager that ended dismissively about the coming weekend and how poorly you were prepared to do your job effectively. Your concerns had been barely acknowledged at the best and outright discarded at worst. Over the course of the last three hours you had had eyes rolled at you six times, had to remake a drink four times, been asked why your stock was so low ten times, and had to give one full refund to a customer who took it upon himself to reprimand you personally for the lack of options available to him. You tried your best to push through but the orders kept coming, and the wait times grew longer and longer, you weren’t making nearly enough progress.

“Switch out?” Your coworker offers to you marking your wide, scared eyes gazing at the growing number of tickets.

“Please.” You nod turning to operate the register instead.

They nodded taking over at the espresso machine from where you left off. You approached the counter just as a woman stepped forward from the line.

“Hello! What can I get you?” You smiled brightly.

“Well, I don't know yet…”She was already frustrated, “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

She turned her gaze upward to the menu board above your head, rolling her eyes on the ascent. It shouldn’t have, but it brought a hot burn of tears to your eyes. Sure, she was being condescending, but you dealt with far more pointed forms of belittlement on a daily basis. Somehow though, after the day that had already transpired, you had to choke back tears. You felt yourself shut down in order to keep from crying at such a stupid remark. You took her order without incident, asking only the necessary questions and issuing the payment efficiently. Upon retrieval of her receipt she left the counter. The tears were threatening to spill over as you sighed in relief. In an example of the universe’s kindness you saw your coworker approach, indicating to you that it was time for you to take your lunch break. You passed her quickly as she entered the floor, grabbing your bag and rushing out the front door in embarrassment. Or rather, you tried to rush out of the door. As you scrambled toward the threshold you collided with something hard, it felt like you hadn't bothered to open the door at all, study and unmoving. You bounced back, feeling a rattle in your bones as you tried to gather your senses enough to turn your head upwards. Two strong hands gripped you in place. You gazed upon the face above you, looking down with wide, green guarded eyes.

“Are you alright? I didn’t see you, I’m sorry.” Nanami’s hands moved up your arms to your shoulders.

You haven't ever seen his face so worried before, eyes carefully studying you, brows furrowed, hands hard on your arms, “I--i--Its been..”

Nanami sees the tears well up in your eyes, brimming and nearly spilling over, “Were you going outside? May I join you?”

You nod and he ushers you out quickly, holding the door before following in stride as you hurry down the sidewalk. He watched as you pulled a pack of cigarettes from your purse, drawing one forward, long and thin, and continued to dig inside the bag, growing more and more frustrated. Nanami pulled his own lighter from his jacket pocket, a pristine silver zippo with the characters of his name engraved at the base. He lit the end for you and watched you savor the first drag. Your eyes closed and your lips plump and pursed around the filter. When you opened your eyes and exhaled you offered him a cigarette from your pack, and he took one. Smoking the same cigarette as you made him feel close to you somehow. He lit it as you plopped down on a smoker’s bench two and a half blocks from the cafe.

“Bad day?” Nanami asked after a beat or two.

You groaned in response, resting your head on your hands and your elbows on your knees, cigarette dangling dangerously close to your hair. He nodded, suddenly feeling awkward and ill prepared to comfort you. You had probably left the cafe to be free of customers and work, and here he was following you. Shame rose in his chest as he realized his imposition. All the same, Nanami stood next to you, smoking silently, trying to offer you the space you needed, space he had already intruded on. The wind rushed past the both of you, the coming fall air carrying the cigarette smoke away. It seemed to trigger the raising of your head.

“Do you like your job, Nanami?”

He was surprised. Not by the suddenness of the question but by the sincerity in your voice, and the defeated look on your face. The tops of your cheeks were wet, your eyelashes damp, the usual casual smile you carried now replaced by a deep frown. The sight tore at his heart, until now you had been a consistent source of joy for him, he never expected to see you in such duress.

“No. I don’t.” He confessed, it was always relieving to be honest about his distaste for sorcery, he made no effort to conceal how he felt, but when he has to do it every day he finds himself pretending occasionally.

You nod, understandingly, taking the cigarette between your lips and sliding over, for him to plop into the seat next to you and continue, “Well I love mine. I know it’s silly, it's just coffee. But, I don't know, I like seeing people everyday, talking to them, providing something they can enjoy and indulge in, no matter what happens over the course of the day. Something they can rely on for comfort.”

You shook your head, already starting to chuckle at yourself for how stupid you must sound. Before that feeling could take root, Nanami cut in.

“It’s important. It isn’t silly at all. These people come to you to provide them with a service they can not provide themselves, something you have spent years perfecting for their benefit. You sustain people with energy, you allow them space to rest and stay cool, you offer a moment of kind conversation in a time when people feel more lonely than ever.” His voice stayed even, almost stern, as he spoke to you.

You watched his face as he spoke, similarly stoic. He was being overgenerous, far too complimentary of your work in something as brief as a coffee stop. You knew this to be the case, it had to be. But, his words echoed the same romanticism that filled you when you had first started in coffee, you did like the idea of providing for people, you liked having a specialized skill, you genuinely cared when your customers engaged you in conversations or told you their problems, human connection was the main draw of the job. And it was why you loved it. You were able to connect with hundreds of people a day, if only for a moment.

“What happened today?” He inquired further.

You sighed, “Not any one thing. Just one of the bad ones. I hate disappointing people, and I disappointed a lot of people today.”

“So what?” He responds flatly, taking a drag of the loaner cigarette.

You’re shocked, a confused laugh leaves you.

“So what.” He repeats, “if they are disappointed, then they can get over it. Surely the next time they stop in you will take the great care of them that they are used to.”

His voice is sincere; as though it’s the most obvious, logical line of thinking available. You wanted to defend how bad you felt, to slip into your habits of valuing the negative outlook rather than compartmentalizing. But you can’t, looking at Nanami, with his kind, intelligent eyes looking right back into yours, you’re struck by the heart of his words. You nod reflectively, considering all the situations today where you could feel the disappointment coming from a customer; each situation would be easily fixable when more resources or corresponding orders came in. You had plenty of experience diffusing situations like this, you would be able to fix them all eventually, and anything you didn’t get the chance to — was out of your hands.

“Thank you.”

Nanami watched as the smile returned to your face. Your eyes had dried themselves, your back stood straighter as you finished your cigarette and extinguished against the sole of your shoe. He had smoked much slower than you, he wasn't a frequent smoker anymore, an old habit that lingered from needing quick getaways from his former office, so the nicotine buzz was starting to swirl his head, he noticed a small tremor in one of his legs that he recognized as his limit.

You tucked the butt of your cigarette into a small outer pocket of your purse. Nanami followed your motions, extinguishing his own and handing the double checked no longer burning butt to you. You tucked it inside the same pocket, holding them there to dispose of properly later in a real trashcan. Smoking was bad enough for the environment, you didn’t need to add litter to the equation. Some silly, overly whimsical part of you treasured the idea that the remnants of his mouth and the remnants of yours were in there together, getting cozy.

He shared that thought with you, although privately.

“How long is your break?” Nanami asked, wanting to scrub his mind of the thoughts of the indirect kiss between the two of you occurring in your pocket.

You reached across his lap and took his left wrist in your hand pulling it over to you. His heart stopped, he didn’t dare breathe, immediately conscious of the smoke on his breath wouldn’t disturb you. You had never touched him before, excluding the collision that brought the two of you out here. Nearly three months of over the counter exchanges without a single instance of contact, broken here, with your warm, soft fingers touching the thin skin on the inside of his wrist. He watched your face as you looked at his watch.

“About ten minutes left.” You sighed.

You looked back at him, your hold on his arm had brought him closer, much closer than expected. You still held his wrist, his face couldn’t have been further than eight inches, you had never been at eye level with him before. You could see his face so much closer and clearer, you could see the pores on his cheeks, the discoloration under his eyes from overwork and lack of sleep, you thought you saw some deeper discoloration around the side of his eye, but brushed it off as shadow. Your eyes flicked down to his lips, thin and shapely, a full bottom lip with a soft rosy hue. When you met his eyes again you could see through his glasses, seeing that his eyes were trained on you just as intently. You felt that familiar stirring and buckling in your chest that had become so synonymous with your feelings of excitement around him. He was so close, so focused on you, you felt intimidated, and observed. You released his rest, back into his lap.

“Thank you, Nanami. I needed that.” You sighed, looking away from him, trying to break the growing tension between the two of you, “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, I promise I'm usually better at this.”

Nanami shook his head, similarly thankful for the severing of intensity, “don’t apologize, I understand. I’m glad I was here.”

You took in the sidewalk and the street, the cool early fall air around the pair of you, the weather was perfect. Beautiful sun, chilly air, the smell of coming evening rain. You stood, brushing the back of your pants off for any eager fallen leaves that you had been previously too frustrated to notice. He stood quickly to meet you, adjusting his coat and sleeves to busy himself. You two took another moment to adjust yourselves before locking eyes again. You offered him the kind smile he knew so well.

“Are you ready to head back?” Nanami cleared his throat.

You nodded, feeling much more grounded, and grateful for this moment of respite. You walked back together, not needing to exchange words, just simply walking side by side the all too short two blocks back to the cafe’s door. Once you reached the door Nanami stalled. Something in him changed, an aura you hadn’t seen in him before

“Would it be okay if I came by later today?” He asked, not quite looking at you, but over you and into the cafe behind you.

“S-sure, of course.” You felt yourself shrinking, the embarrassment of how vulnerable you had just been creeping in in a vignette, shading the moment of connection you had just shared with him.

Nanami gave a clipped nod, looking around once more before turning his gaze down to you.

“Okay. I’ll be back here tonight. Take care of yourself.” He nodded once more before turning and heading back down the street,

“W-wait, did you want your coffee?” Your sentence began as a call but faded into a whisper as you realized he wouldn’t be turning around.

You watched his silhouette descend the path, turning and disappearing into the city. You weren’t sure exactly what happened, what you had done or what had called him away. But before you could dwell too long you heard the voice of your coworker calling to you, asking you for help back on the cafe floor. You looked once more down the path that Nanami had left down, before returning inside to finish your shift.

The rest of the day passed as well as it could have, and regardless of how grueling it was moment to moment, the time passed anyway, and once the cafe had cleared itself and the hiss of the open sign was made silent, you found yourself alone. The bakers had completed their prep bakes for the next day, allowing them to cool in the large industrial freezers overnight, the other baristas had swept and mopped before clocking out and returning to their own homes. You stood behind the counter waiting on the espresso machine to complete its last cleaning cycle. Nanami hadn’t come back as he said he would, and while you were alone you didn’t feel like hiding your disappointment. You scanned through what you could have done wrong, everything you said, everything you did, suddenly all felt wrong and overly familiar. You’d scared him off. But scared him off from what, you couldn’t figure out. According to your coworkers, he was flirting, and you knew you were, at least to some degree, however fruitless you considered your efforts.

You were too bogged down by your spiral to hear the shlucking sound coming from the back. The espresso machine's routine of purging and clicking was too loud for you to hear the store room push itself open. It wasn't until you heard the broken, amalgamated voice calling out that you felt the fear slash itself up your spine. You couldn’t decipher the words, they were too garbled, like that of someone underwater trying to speak to you through an AM radio. The pitch was too high for your ears, and too low to even exist. You stood completely still, no one else should have been able to enter the building, the only unlocked door was the front, large lights and plenty of people making it safer than exiting out the back. Some instinct in you was holding you completely still, restricting you from being able to turn around and see where the sound has come from. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t move, the only thing you could think about was your coworker set to open tomorrow, and what ungodly nightmare was she going to have to walk into. Tears fell from your eyes, the wetness of your cheeks snapping you out of your paralysis, your body shaking as you started to turn and face what was coming.

“Don’t turn around.” Nanami stood in front of you, his usual tan jacket removed, moving his sleeves up his arms, his gaze locked behind you.

Your breath found you again, chin quivering with fear and relief at the sight of him.

“Close your eyes.” Nanami’s voice was darker than you had ever heard before.He looked completely different, intense and large and imposing, if you didn’t know him you could have been scared of him, “Trust me, you’ll be fine. Close your eyes.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, immediately missing the comfort the sight of him provided. You heard a thunk, a grunt, a slash, and then nothing.

“You can open your eyes.” Nanami’s voice came from right behind you.

You turned around quickly, seeing him standing over a pile of knocked over cups and pitchers, holding what looked like a butcher’s knife wrapped in cow print fabric. His yellow tie that you had grown to admire as a symbol of him was loose around his neck. He was still looking down at the ground. Once he seemed satisfied with whatever it was, he looked back at you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, sheathing the paddle looking blade on the brown leather holster on his back, you had never noticed it before.

“What the fuck was that?” You couldn't help the tears that fell from you as your body started to shake harder and harder.

Nanami put his hands on your shoulders, his grip tight and soothing, “I’m sorry you had to see that. But it’s gone now, I assure you.”

You couldn’t help yourself, you started sobbing falling against his chest. He held you tight against him, letting your tears soil his shirt and your body tremble in his arms as he held you firm. You wept until openly, feeling no shame, there was no room for shame with all the fear and adrenaline vacating your body. He made no move to quiet you or tell you to calm yourself, he simply held you close.

“Can I take you home?” Nanami asked, his voice resounding from his chest where your ear was pressed.

You nodded.

Nanami had started sensing the build up of cursed energy on his last visit before bringing Ino. It was faint enough that he couldn’t place if it was coming within or from the general street. On his subsequent visits he noticed it growing exponentially, building on itself in a way that was inching toward concern. His selfish motives for bringing Ino to the cafe were overshadowed when he picked up on it as well. Confirming Nanami’s suspicion that it was an internal problem, and one growing more and more dangerous by the day. Earlier today was the first time he had noticed its effect in action. You tear stained face, the disgruntled patrons, you fevered, overworked companions. He knew he had to intervene. He had come after closing hoping you had already gone home, hoping to take care of it quietly before it became a larger problem. It wasn’t until he saw you terror-stricken with a low level curse emerging from behind that he conceded he would have to tell you. He didn’t want you to have to experience any of this, you shouldn’t have to face the reality of this world, and the monster’s within it. You deserved the same ignorance as everyone else outside of sorcery. But it was no longer his decision.

He walked you home, which wasn’t far from the cafe, and up to your apartment. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, he hesitated briefly before following you. These aren't the circumstances he had anticipated for his first foray into your living space, but again, it was out of his hands.

“You said ‘it's gone now’, what is ‘it’?” You asked as you locked the front door behind you, check the peephole for anything out of order.

Nanami sighed, “It’s…a lot to explain, most of it would be incomprehensible right away. It would take me hours to make it all make sense. And that isn't a slight against you, it’s because I know you're smart that it would only take that long.”

Your voice was returning fully, the fear having left itself behind at the cafe, “Nanami, you knew. You knew that whatever it was was there, you…killed it? Drove it away? Would it show up here? Do I need to be worried about this thing coming here?”

“No.” he was quick to shake his head, “It’s dead. Well it wasn’t ever really alive, not really. But you don’t have anything to worry about, anymore. I’m sorry it got that bad.”

“Please just tell me.” You groan, “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

And he believed you. So he told you.

It took nearly four hours, one and a half pots of coffee, and a few crudely drawn diagrams on the back of a take out menu that he drew. But eventually you understood that what had attempted to attack you was a curse, and that curse had likely been building over a series of months or maybe years before it reached this form. He was a sorcerer, a kind of soldier tasked with the exorcisms of these curses in an intensely guarded organization dedicated to keeping curses secret and the public safe. The young man, Ino, who he had brought with him is a sorcerer as well. He explained the rank of threat, and how yours was incredibly low for any skilled sorcerer, which apparently, he was. He showed you the blade he kept on his back, the one that had been hiding just below his jacket for the entire time you had known him. He explained to you how he was able to kill the curse in a single strike, how his technique worked. When his explanations had been completed you felt strange. Stuffed to the brim with new information, most of which terrified you and made you feel powerless against a threat you could have gone through your whole life without knowing about. But a part of you felt good, knowing there were people kind enough and skilled enough to make this an insular problem, one that did not necessitate the knowledge of the general populace out of sheer humility.

“I understand that this must be a lot for you to take in. But, I promise you that what attacked you tonight will never show its face again. I can give you a talisman, something to keep in the cafe to keep it safe from future curse development.” Nanami had taken off his coat and harness, his blade lay on your coffee table alongside his glasses and your purse.

“Was that why you left so quickly today?” It may have been a silly thing to inquire about in the wake of so much life changing information, but you couldn’t hold your tongue.

Nanami nodded, “I had to run back to my..boss basically, and get a formal assignment to exorcise the curse. I’m sorry I left. I didn’t want to. When we got back the energy was too strong, I knew I would only have a few hours.” His apologized, setting his nearly complete coffee cup on the table, “But I had to make sure that nothing happened to you,” after a beat he adds, “or your coworkers.”

“So you, you saved my life tonight.” You whispered.

The front pieces of his hair had fallen out of their usual styling, they now hung in front of his face. Through the sandy strands you met his eyes, looking tired and locked with yours. The faint bruise on his brow suddenly made sense, the bags under his eyes, the serious demeanor, it was all recontextualized. You didn;t stop your hand when it traced your middle finger over a small, well healed scar along his eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nanami conceded, usually not one to accept praise for his work.

“Nanami you saved me.” Your hand cupped his cheek, “I would be a mess for someone to clean up tomorrow morning if you weren’t there.”

He was speechless, your hand on his cheek was warming as heat crept to his face. Your eyes were so big and beautiful, your lips looked so soft as they shaped your gratitude.

“Thank you.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Was all he could choke out.

You had read about this. After near death experiences, or other instances of extreme adrenaline, the body could have all kinds of after effects; nausea, sleeplessness, exhaustion, arousal. The arousal coursing through your body was a natural side effect of what you had just been through, and what was right in front of you. He had been there watching over you, keeping you safe from threats you couldn't even imagine. Every day he returned was another day that he was caring for you, protecting you, trending to you. His skin was smooth and hot under your touch, the hair of his sideburns was soft under your fingers, it felt like every nerve in your body was turned up to a thousand. The quick hatching chrysalis was nearing its emergence, it was so still as you leaned closer to him.

“You must be tired. I can go, if you need to sleep.” His resolve was faltering.

“If you aren’t busy, I know it’s been a long night,” Your hand traveled down to his shoulder, the barrier of his shirt helping him regain some sense, “I think I would sleep better if you were here. Just for the night?”

The cock of your head and the flutter of your lashes made your offer clear. Nanami’s cheeks became more pronounced as he tried to swallow down the burning desire to have you right here. But he, too, had read about the aphrodisiac effects of adrenaline. He knew that there was a chance that your gratitude and your exhilaration were converging inside of you to make you feel like you wanted him, when you were actually just happy to be alive.

He put his hand on your arm, “Sometimes, when someone has been through something like what you have, they may look for…other forms of excitement to help with the adrenaline dump…it’s very natural..”

The back of his neck was hot, his shirt felt too tight, his pants felt much too tight, his mouth was so wet he risked drooling right in front of you. But he couldn’t take advantage of this moment, it would be wrong. He liked you. Ino claims you liked him, but he doesn’t know for sure, it would be deplorable for him to act on this offer without knowing if this is something your right mind wanted.

“I’ve read that before.” You nodded, looking at his hand wrapped around your forearm, he was so big, “I’ve never experienced a curse before.”

He nodded along with you, still watching your mouth move.

“But, I’ve experienced attraction before, Nanami. I know what it feels like to want someone. And I want you.” You told him, pulling your legs up under you on the couch.

A small shake from his head, “It’s just psychosomatic. You’ll feel better in the morning, or after a shower. It’s the adrenaline.”

“I don’t think I had excess adrenaline the morning you came in first. Or the next time, or earlier today outside. Nanami,” You dipped your head down to look up at his, “Nanami, please. I’ve been too scared to say anything, I didn’t want to seem unprofessional or scare you. But, I like you. I really like you, I think you're gorgeous and kind and funny. You’re brave and smooth and a little weird, but I like that.”

He scanned your face for signs of lying, twitching eyes, avoidant eye contact, swallowing, anything that he could rely on to keep himself from getting exactly what he wanted. But he found nothing. Nothing to let him off the hook of being honest about how he felt.

He let out a heavy breath, his hand on your arm growing tighter, “I fell for you the moment I walked in. Everytime I went back I went for you. To see you. I think you’re so beautiful and charming. I don’t want this to be wrong.”

You shook your head, your hands returning to his face, the one he had on you now moved to the back of your couch, “It’s not wrong. Nothing about this is wrong.”

He grips your hands, looking you right in the eye. You see his pupils have grown wide, you can feel the sweat on his palms, mixing with your own on the backs of your hands. He held you right in front of him, looking over every inch of your face. You were gorgeous, His heart pounded in his chest, like it was reaching for you. He let out a grateful breath.

“Thank god.” He couldn’t wait any longer, and neither could you.

The both of you leaned forward in the same moment, meeting at the perfect center of both pursuits to press your lips together. The chrysalis inside of you hatched, the beating of your heart, the flapping of wet, quickly drying butterfly’s wings. He touched your neck, downy hairs at the nape of your neck soft under his fingers. He was quick to pull you by the waist into his lap. His tongue was smooth on its entrance into your mouth, tasting the underside of your own, the backs of your teeth, the coffee you had shared. The kiss was heated and smooth, personal styles learning to blend together. Your arms wrapped around his neck, hands in his hair, over the back of the couch, anywhere to offer you stability. Nanami’s hands gripped your waist, sliding under your shirt and feeling the first of the body he dreamed of. Kicking himself in the privacy of his own home for thinking of you so disrespectfully. But in your home, on your couch, with you in his lap, he wanted to worship you. The hands he had cursed for pleasuring himself to the thought of you were not reverent as they felt your hips, your ribs, the sensitive flank inbetween. He could feel your shiver as he made his way back and forth, you were sensitive there. He was toying with you, relishing in your hissing inhales, and your breathy moans. But you were never one to be toyed with, you tested a personal theory of yours, one you had formulated with your hand in your panties on nights when sleep wouldnt come and you looked to your own devices to tucker yourself out. You scratched your nails across the cropped undercut at the back of his neck, gripping and tugging at the hair. Nanami let out a strangled moan underneath you, his hips bucking into yours, and his hands gripping you tighter. Just as soon as his mouth left yours, he found your exposed neck, kissing, practically lapping at the skin there. This pulled the more embarrassingly pitched moans out of you. High whimpers as you keened against him in his lap.

“You’re so beautiful, you’re so good, fuck.” He peppered his praise in with kisses along the column of your throat.

You haven't heard him swear before now, the words fell from him so easily. He was clearly practiced, it made you wonder what other sides of him came easily that you hadn’t yet seen.

“Yu-you are,” You could feel your brain covering itself in honey, the saccharine sweet feeling of him under your, on you, all around you, consuming your ability to think.

You felt him smile against your skin, pulling off of your neck and sliding his hand around to the back of your neck.

“I-I don’t do this very often, it’s been a while, please don't tease me too much.” This was the softest you had ever heard him, his voice was breathy and it almost came out as a beg.

You looked down at him sweetly, his hair mussed across his forehead, buttons of his shirt seeming to have undone themselves, tie falling to either side, his chest flush in splotchy red patches. He looked stunning, the light of your living room you had previously considered unflattering, was golden hour.

“We can take it slow, if you want.” You offered, wanting to accommodate him, the way he had already for you.

He shook his head leaning forward and readjusting you on his lap. When he settled you back down you realized the reason for his frantic reaction. The very big reason. The pants tenting, hot, probably leaking, reason.

You nodded, quick to understand. You leaned forward to kiss him again, making sure to grind yourself down in his lap before pulling off completely and grabbing his hand, tugging him behind you. Nanami felt drunk following you to your room, found himself almost stumbling as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. He crossed the threshold to your bedroom where you had already pulled your work pants off, standing in only a thin tank top and your panties. You approached him with mock disappointment and your bottom lip between your teeth. You moved your hands over his chest.

“I wanted to be the one to take off your shirt,” You cooed.

Nanami’s hand found the lapels, “I can button it again if y--”

You giggled, “Next time.”

Before pulling him into another deep kiss by his neck. His hands found your hips, eager to slip one finger under the top of the waistband and feel the hidden skin. You slid his shirt down his shoulders, the tie falling along with it. Your lips smacked together over and over as you both tried to touch as much skin as was available to you. You pawed at the hard lines of his back, feeling ridges and valleys and muscles. He, similarly, was quick to find the hemline of your shirt and slip underneath. You both let out a haughty moan as he cupped one of your bare breasts. IF you had had your eyes open, you would have seen his eyes roll back in his head as he slipped his tongue between your lips once again, squeezing the tit in his hand. You freed your arms and pulled the shirt over your head as he undid his belt.

“You’re so gorgeous.” Nanami gazed over you.

“You’re gorgeous.” You echoed, hopping on to the bed and watching him pull his grey slacks down his legs. He wore a pair of navy colored briefs that hid almost nothing, especially the nearly black splotch of precum that had accumulated.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” You marveled at him, his body, the evidence of the effect you had on him, his face, him, all of him.

Nanami sucked in a quick breath, fighting his embarrassment by looking at the hungry look on your face. You were nearly naked on the bed, waiting for him. You had only your panties on, your chest exposed, nipples once puffy now hardening with excitement. Eyes trained on him, mouth panting and swollen from his kiss. He could see a small bruise forming on the side of your neck, he would apologize in the morning, flowers or breakfast, but for now it was all his to admire. He joined you on the bed, climbing over your body to do so. His torso caged you in completely, wide shoulders shadowing over your frame. He pulled you by your thighs. Taking time to stretch your legs and admire the muscle and skin and fat that made up your gorgeous form. He seemed impressed with your flexibility, at least the little click of his tongue indicated as much. His clothed cock pressed right against your panty clad pussy, both hot and begging to be aligned. He pressed his hips a little as he brought one of your ankles to his lips, kissing the ball, then up the calf. You moaned at the wet kisses, relishing in his affection. He looped his thumbs into your panties, releasing your leg so he could pull them from your legs. Nanami caught your eyes before spreading your legs in front of him, you gave him the go ahead and he sank before you, aligning himself to see your pussy spread open for him. If he wasn't drunk earlier, he was now. Sticky, dripping, gorgeous. He couldn’t hold back, he licked a long, wet stripe up you slit, tasting his first of you.

Your body was on fire, completely electrified, and weightless underwater all at once. His tongue made its home between your labia, sharp nose being buried in your mound. Your back arched off the bed as a wanton moan left your wet mouth. Your hand flew to his hair, finding a grip for you to cling to. Your other hand held your breast. Nanami’s tongue flicked itself up and down, kissing your clit, drawing out more and more arousal from your dripping hole.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He says, soft enough to be just for himself.

You can't respond, only mewl as he sucks at your clit. You release your breast and grip on to the headboard, accidentally pulling yourself away from him. Nanami grabs your hips and pulls you back onto his tongue.

“Come back.” He mumbles, again, almost to himself.

“N-Nanami, i-..”You are cut off by another harsh suck to your clit, his tongue circling inhumanly.

You were so close, it usually would have taken you much longer to orgasm but the excitement coursing through your body and his skill had turned you to keening, pathetic putty in mere minutes. He flicks his golden eyes up at you, watching you start to unravel. He knows what to do, or rather what not to do, he carries on exactly as he has been, every flick of his tongue pulling you down further. It became too much, and you bubbled over. You cried out in white out pleasure, pulling on his hair. Your legs clapped around his head. He drank up everything you gave, your moans upsettingly muffled by your flesh over his ears.

When he felt you relax again, he pulled his mouth from you, a thick, gossamer string of spit and cum connecting from his lips to your pussy. The hand from his hair fell to his face, pairing nicely with his blown out eyes and fucked out expression. He caught his breath while looking over your body, your full breasts, your tummy rising and falling as you caught your own. He moved over you once again, kissing you deeply. He tasted like you, his tongue was heavy and hot in your mouth, his hands were fast to rid himself of his underwear and pull your legs over his bare hips. You could feel the length of his cock pressing against your throbbing, overly sensitive cunt. Your outer lips, now much more sensitive from Nanami’s expert work.

“You’re amazing.” You gasped out against his mouth.

He hummed pridefully, kissing you again. He grinds his hips hard, hoping to prepare you further for what's to come, but he miscalculated, a rare occurrence. Both of you let out long, glorious moans as he pushes himself inside of you, all the way to the hilt. Nanami shudders briefly before gaining his strength back, you dig your nails into his back, but he cant feel anything except the pulsing of your pussy around him. He may never be able to think again, not of anything other than having the hot velvet muscle between your legs tight around his cock. You whimper at his penetration, feeling him press the deepest parts of you. Tip of his cock kissing your cervix, just as passionately as he kissed you. He was not a small man by any measure, and the entirety of his cock probably made up close to eight inches, with the girth to burn as it stretched you open.

Which he did again, catching your panting lips on his own, quick kisses between caught breaths as you both adjusted to the feeling of being joined together. He pulled his hips back, pulling a shaky moan from you, and pushed in once more. Somehow he reached even deeper than he did before, his cock arching up to press that beautiful, spongy spot inside of you, the spot that made you clit throb and your eyes squeeze shut.

“Look at me, baby.” Nanami pleaded, “I wanna see your pretty eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open, a drunken droop to the lids as he thrusted again. He found an even, well paced rhythm. Kissing you occasionally, when one of you wasn't gasping out in bliss. Your hand moves up one of his arms, gripping his taut bicep and his sinewy shoulders. He pressed his forehead to yours, looking down your body to see his pelvis meeting yours. His cock throbbed inside of you at the sight, in turn making your walls grip him tighter. You pull him back to your lips, wanting to be consumed by every sensation he could give you. His hand by your head grips the pillow hard, ripening a hole in the casing. You move your hand up to meet his, holding it and interlocking your fingers. His grip softened instantly, becoming as sweet and generous as ever part of him had been already. You felt him twitch inside of you once more. Followed by a choked moan.

“I-i, baby I,” Nanami struggled to get his words out as he drove himself further and further into you.

“Please, Nanami, please.”You held him closer with your thighs, purring out his name.

“I didn't put on a condom,” He struggled to collect himself, he knew he could be responsible with you, “I should..”

“Dont pull out,” You whine, sounding more pitiful than you intended, “please Nanami, cum inside me, please.”

He finds your eyes quickly, his heart melting at your big watery pleading eyes. You swollen lips, you drooping, drooling mouth. How could he deny you? Nanami made quick work of chasing his own climax, thrusting harder, fucking faster, holding your body still underneath him. You feel every thrust in your throat. His pace quickens and his thrust become shallow and choppy. Nanami lets out a delicious, languid moan as he cums. You can feel his thick cock depositing load after load of cum into you. An elongated, uninterrupted E sound. He holds you at your hip and when your hand still holds his. His face is now buried in your neck. Your legs are slung over his hips along with your other hand over his shoulder. He thrusts twice more before stalling, having emptied himself, but not yet gathered the desire to pull out. When he finally comes to, he releases your tender hip and pushes himself up from above you, looking down at you. You pant up at him, taking in a post-coital vision of him you never expected, and he, the same. He flushed, sweaty, messy, drool and cum drying on his chin, hairstyle ruined by your grasping. You imagine you looked just as disheveled by half as gorgeous. Nanami, would of course, disagree. He kisses you again, soft and deep. When he finally pulls himself out of you he takes the spot to the right of you in bed. You lie together, allowing your bodies to return to a blissful equilibrium. You roll onto your side, moving a hand over his stomach.

“So you’ll stay the night?” you gave a sly smile.

And he laughed. Truly laughed, before kissing you again deeply.

And he did stay the night. After a quick shower the pair of you returned to bed and slept soundly in each other's arms until he got up before the sunrise to make it back to his apartment with enough time to change before work. He kissed you goodbye and assured you he would come by the cafe. And he did, he met you right at the end of your shift, a bundle of flowers in one arm. He invited you to a home cooked dinner at his place. You were surprised at his determination to make you an established couple, but not even close to put off by it.

“I know it’s a little unorthodox, but I am about to start a new assignment and it’s shaping up to be a lot of work. I may be indisposed for a few days. I’d really like to see you again before then” He explained as he walked you home.

“I’d love to,” You giggled, kissing his cheek and admiring the bouquet he had picked out, “Where are you going for your assignment?”

“Shibuya.”

OOOOOOOOOOO SURPISE, anyway hope yall like it and came good. Love you all, thanks for 150 followers. Also im on my barista high horse a little, but just be normal and nice to people, and if you'd tip a bartender, tip a barista. it's the same job. I hope this was worth the wait. I have work in fiv ehours. -Doodle.

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flemingsfreckles · 7 months ago

Text

Replacement pt. 1

Jessie Fleming x Reader (enemies to lovers)

Synopsis: Jessie transfers to your team in Portland, while everyone else seems to be thrilled about her transfer, you see the girl as a threat to your position and playing time with the team.

Warnings: cursing

WC: 2.4K (this is just set up, the other parts will be longer)

A/N: this is a LONG overdue series I started writing when Jessie first transferred to Portland, I just have had some serious writers block with it. But I’ve finally been able to get some of it down. It is enemies to lovers, so it will be rough and angsty at the start but give it some time :)

Everyone had seen the rumors flying around. You heard the whispers of your teammates at training yesterday afternoon after they had all seen the supposed transfer news. Just like any other fan or team, you all loved the speculation. Your teammates loved it even more when it surrounded bringing a big name on to your team for once instead of Gotham like everyone else. Janine and Christine spent most of their practice trying to dodge questions about their fellow Canadian teammate, not giving away any details of what they did or didn’t know.

You couldn’t lie, you often fed into the spectacle of transfer rumors, chatting with your team about where people might be headed. Something about this transfer rubbed you the wrong way. Maybe it was because you felt threatened. You were a midfielder as well. If you’re being honest with yourself, your first season in the league, fresh out of college, had not gone to plan.

Being drafted second you were expected to perform well, and the transition into the NWSL from the NCAA had been anything but smooth. You had a few minor injuries, a strain here and there, with the addition of a minor concussion. You ended up with an overall disappointing season. It wasn’t due to your lack of effort, you pushed yourself as hard if not harder than most players, it just hadn’t yet paid off.

Jessies arrival meant you’d likely be finding yourself sitting on the bench more and more often. They were bringing in someone who could actually help the team. They were bringing in your replacement in the form of an incredibly skilled and experienced midfielder.

You tried to remember that they were just rumors, she wasn’t confirmed to being transferring. What small hope you had was quickly diminished when you got the team message from staff asking that you all arrive to practice 20 minutes early for a “quick meeting”.

So when you walked into the meeting room, slouching in your seat next to Sam and Janine with a huff, they both turned to look at you. They had both taken you under their wing when you joined the team, being your first friends in Portland. They would come over when you were injured, helping take you to and from training, and helping you get acquainted with the city.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of their bed, damn.” Janine looked at you with wide eyes. It was uncharacteristic behavior being so cranky, even with how poorly your season was last year, you were typically upbeat, trying to make your teammates laugh, keeping practice lighthearted.

“Shut it Beckie.” You muttered in her direction. Sam looked at you, wide eyes before slowly turning to face forward not wanting to get on your bad side. Your coach walking in shortly after, not giving Janine the chance to respond. You’re not sure she would have even had something to say as she just stared at you, mouth open at the fact that you had just talked back to her.

“Alright, quiet down everyone,” your coach held his hands up. “I’m sure everyone has already seen the rumors floating around our club. We hadn’t planned to announce it until she was actually here to introduce herself but as of a couple hours ago, we have officially agreed to terms with and will be welcoming another Canadian,” he shoots a look at Janine and Sinc, “Jessie Fleming will be joining us.” A couple of whoops and hollers scattered across the room. “She’ll be starting with us at practice in two days. I expect, as you all have with our other transfers and signings, that you welcome her to Portland.”

While the rest of the team seemed to be thrilled at the idea of Fleming joining the team, you dodged every conversation you could about her.

Thankfully training was short, with the season just beginning you were completing fitness testing, getting both benchmarks for the season and learning how well everyone had kept up with their fitness during the off season. After warming up, everyone ran the well known and well dreaded “beep test”. It may be dreaded to most, but as a midfielder you had some of the best cardio fitness. It was days like this where your confidence rose, feeling comfortable through the test, nothing to worry about except running.

By the end of the test, you were one of the only players still running, your lungs were burning with each breath you took, the lactic acid building up in your thighs and calves. You finally dropped to your knees, unable to run any further. You found yourself kneeling next to Janine before rolling over to sit. Placing your head between your knees you breathed, listening to your teammates around you also panting, some coughing, some cursing the test for existing. You laid back fully putting up one leg straight in the air. A smile crept across your face, something about the burning of your lungs and your legs nearly cramping felt so good, a small reminder of your hard work.

“You mind helping me stretch?” Reaching out an arm you smack Janine next to you. Easily convinced, she stands up moving over to you placing herself to hold the foot in the air. She gently begins to press it toward your chest, your hamstring straining as she pushes your leg further.

“You’re fucking crazy for smiling after that test.” Janine rolling her eyes at you, a small cough coming out after as she can still feel her lungs burning. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to deal with two of you now.”

“What does that mean? Two of us?” You send her a pointed look before laying back letting your head fall back against the grass. Janine drops your leg, grabbing the other one before repeating the stretching motion.

“It means, I’ll now have to deal with you and Jessie running circles around me and the rest of this team. Literally circles.” She huffs.

“Right.” You felt the smile drop from your face, you had been able to forget about your replacement’s arrival. Janine noticed instantaneous change in your emotions at the mention of Jessie. She made a mental note to check in with you later, not while you were still on the sidelines of the pitch with the entire team.

Once everyone cooled down from the test, you stretched more, before heading into the locker room. You grab a protein bar and electrolytes from the shelf before hopping into the ice bath. Janine follows you, hopping in as well, making a comment about how cold it was as she shivers.

“Hey, I know we usually go for coffee after practice. We can still do that, it's just that I had offered to help Jessie unpack. She got in last night and didn’t really get settled. I’m supposed to meet her at her new place in about an hour, so I won't be able to stay for too long. It’ll have to be more of a grab and go kind of thing.” Janine looks at you, you both standing in the ice cold water, your shirts held up to avoid getting them wet.

Part of you is annoyed at her. You two always grabbed coffee, it was an unspoken activity, occasionally another teammate or two tagging along. You two would get coffee, you’d vent to each other, chat about the tv shows you were watching, Janine would talk about her wedding. It was something Janine started with you when you were new to the team, she was doing it to make you feel comfortable at the start and it quickly developed into a genuine friendship. Now Jessie was going to replace you at work and in Janine’s life too.

“Just go to hers, it's all good. We can skip this week.” You try not to sound upset, already feeling replaced by Jessie’s arrival in the form of losing your coffee “date”.

“Sorry, I would have said something sooner but with the transfer not public yet, I just didn’t want to get her in trouble or anything.” She pauses for a moment. “Actually, why don't you come with me to Jessie’s? I really think you two will get on well, plus it’ll be a good way to introduce you two.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn't want to just show up, I mean I don't know her and unpacking her stuff would be a little personal, it just probably isn't the best time for me to meet her.” Coming up with the best excuse you could come up with without flat out telling Janine that you don't want to meet one of her favorite people. You had heard plenty about Jessie before from Janine, only before it didn’t bother you. Before it was just hearing about one of Janine’s best friends, now it had a different sting when she was brought up. Now she was talking about the girl coming to take your spot.

“Alright, well I’m still grabbing coffee because I thought we’d be going and I promised Jessie I’d bring her one. Come with me at least then we can split?” You know Janine has zero negative intentions, she still was trying to have your usual coffee while also being an incredible friend and going to help Jessie move in.

“Fine, twist my arm.” You add sarcasm into your sentence, it wasn’t too hard to get you to go get a coffee, it was one of your favorite drinks, you spent way to much time and money on it, even having your own espresso machine at home with a bean grinder and all. Janine always joked that you could just run your own coffee shop out of your apartment for extra money.

You get to the coffee shop, when you walk in the barista gives you a wave, you and Janine were frequent visitors, the baristas all knew you and your orders.

“Are we getting the usual ladies?” The girl behind the counter asks, already starting to punch in the order on her screen.

“I am, but can we get them to-go, thank you.” You tell her. She puts in the order for your cold brew with caramel foam.

“I am, but I’m also going to add another drink, can I just get a latte with the lavender syrup please.”

On a normal day, if you weren’t in such an upset and negative mood you would’ve mocking the way Janine says syrup, but you don’t. You also mentally gag at the coffee she ordered for Jessie, lavender tasted like old lady soap. You mentally added it to the list of reasons to avoid the new transfer. It was childish what you were doing but you didn’t care.

You reach to get your card out, Janine beats you to it tapping her card on the register. “Janine, no.” It was your turn to pay, the two of you alternated.

“Please it’s the least I can do given I’m ditching you today.” She shoots you a sympathetic look.

“Alright.” You rolls your eyes at her as you hear your name called from the other end of the counter where your drink was placed.

You grab your drink and turn to walk out of the shop. The shop wasn’t too far from your apartment, a couple of blocks, and you figured you could walk so Janine didn’t have to drop you off at your house before heading to Jessie’s.

“Hey, where are you running off to, I’ll drive you.”

“Oh, no I’m good, I don’t want to make your trip longer.” You also had enough social interaction for today, a short walk alone wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“Well Jessie’s new place is just across the street from yours, so I’ll be going that way anyway.”

Of course Jessie moved in right across the street, out of all the apartment buildings in Portland of course she found herself the closest one, besides literally being in your building.

Janine grabs hers and Jessie’s drinks and you both walk back to her car. The two of you chat again, complaining about the weather and how it couldn’t make up its mind if it’s was winter or spring yet. You both coo over a dog walking down the street and for a second the conversation is light, it feels normal again. Until Janine brings up Jessie again.

“Hey, would you mind if I give Jess your number? I just figured I’d maybe be nice, you guys live across the street from each other, if she needed anything while she’s still moving in, store or food recommendations, you could help.”

You wanted to say no. But the girl was going to end up with your number anyway, you had to be teammates, you’d have to be cordial with her, you couldn’t let your own pride be a problem for the team.

“Yeah, that’s fine I guess.” Your mood deflated, the words coming out of your mouth with a heavy sigh at the end, making it obvious you weren’t thrilled about the suggestion for her to have your number.

“Are you alright? You’ve seemed weird all day. Is it because of Jessie?”

“Why would it be because of her?” You ask, knowing damn well that your behavior was exactly her fault.

“I don’t know, just when she gets brought up, you seem to get annoyed.”

“No I don’t.” Your answer is quick, you get defensive. Unfortunately your defensive behavior likely tells Janine that it is in fact Jessie who’s on your nerves.

“Oh, I know what it is!” She slaps her hand over to your thigh, giving you a small smack.

“What?”

“You’re worried I’m going to start doing things with Jessie instead of you! You’re jealous!” Her tone is playful, she’s teasing you.

“I’m not jealous.” You cross your arms in the passenger seat, pouring like a toddler.

“Good, but if you were, you have no reason to be, yes she’s my friend, but so are you, our coffee dates will still go on, we’ll still hang out, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried.” You say as Janine pulls up in front of your building. You climb out of the car, thanking her for the ride.

“You’re welcome, I'll always love you, she’ll never come between us!” She yells out the window making a slightly embarrassing scene, bypassers not knowing the joke she’s making. You turn back, shaking your head at her as you laugh.

“Love ya Janine, bye.” You wave at her and enter your building.

You get inside and go about the rest of your day, laundry, cleaning, a rather mundane but somewhat relaxing evening.

It’s when you’re crawling into bed that you receive two messages from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hi, this is Jessie, Janine gave me your number. She said you lived in the area.

Unknown: Sorry, Jessie Fleming, I should’ve clarified. Don’t feel obligated to text me, just Janine insisted I reach out.

You ignore the messages, you have a quick thought of blocking her number, but you know that’s not realistic. You’d have to see her in a few days and be her teammate you can’t block her phone. At least the girl gave you the permission to ignore her.

So that’s what you did. You closed your phone, putting it on silent and snuggled into bed, putting on whatever was showing on National Geographic at this hour and falling asleep shortly after.

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #jessie fleming blurb

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sommerregenjuniluft · 11 months ago

Text

@jegulus-microfic january 9 - write - 946words - feat. fem!harry because i was craving girldads

(this one also esp goes out to @veryinnovative)

“Papa?”

“Yes, mon chou?” Regulus responds, shaking a curl out of his eyes to look over his shoulder as he keeps stirring.

Harrie is still bent over her artwork, crayon held in a tight fist, pigtails standing askew with half her hair falling out of them and in her little face anyways.

“Will you help me write my name?”

Regulus lowers the temperature of the stovetop to let the sauce simmer as he puts on the lid, “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

He crouches down to check the potato wedges and veggies in the oven, satisfied when they look according to the alarm he set, and gives his hands a quick rinse before he saunters over to his daughter.

The soles of his plush slippers are a faint noise against the whirring of the oven and the soft bubbling of the pot. The air smells warm and cozy with the home-cooked meal and the drying clementine peels that are still on the table from Harrie’s earlier snack.

Regulus bends over her to regard her painting, nose buried into her wayward hair, inhaling. It smells like her Strawberry Shortcake (the kid’s show) shampoo, like James’ cologne and still that distinct brand of baby that Regulus is utterly obsessed with and hopes she never loses. Well, at least as long as she’s small enough for him to still pick her up.

Harrie is unperturbed, keeps drawing little blue petals around a flower besides what Regulus assumes must be their cat, Mochi. Or maybe a very oversized ant. His little artiste.

“Can I give you a kiss?” Regulus mumbles into the crown of her head.

“Yup.”

Harrie squeals when Regulus plants a loud smooch on her chubby cheek. She smells like grapes and walnuts there too. James must’ve packed them for her lunch in kindergarden.

She tapers off into a hearty giggle when Regulus keeps peppering kisses before he lets himself fall into the kitchen chair beside her.

“So,” Regulus says pointedly, making a show of granting her his undivided attention.

Harrie nods her head, making little, silly Mhm-mhm-mhm noises. Like she’s trying to convey the importance of what follows. Or like she has a tune stuck in her head. Regulus bets his money on both.

He grins, tucking a strand behind Harrie’s ear that just falls right back into place. “Where do you want your name?”

A tongue pokes out of the corner of his daughter’s mouth and she turns her pen to point at the top edge with the end of it, “Right here.”

“Alright.”

Harrie chooses another color for her signature and then they begin to write together.

“An H. Huh—as in house,” Regulus makes, Harrie repeating the sound automatically. “Two straight lines down and then one across the middle. Good job.”

“Then Ay,” Harrie continues. The beginning of the alphabet she’s already got memorized.

“That’s right, mon chou.”

“Ha-rrr.”

“An R—that’s a straight line, with a bump on top and a leg on the bottom. That’s it. We need another one of those, remember? Your name has two.”

Just as Harrie sets onto the next letter Regulus hears a car rumble up into their driveway, head instinctively swiveling around to the window.

When he looks back down the second R isn’t entirely correct. “Whoops—look, this one has its leg on the wrong side, honey.”

“Oh,” Harrie makes, eyebrows rising, and she goes to grab her eraser.

She corrects her letter and then proceeds to draw the I without prompting from Regulus, adding a wonky heart on top.

“Good job. And an—”

“E–like eeeraser,” his daughter sings, adding the three horizontal lines to the last letter, right as Regulus hears a keychain jingle against the front door.

Harrie is now drawing a little star next to her name as James comes into the kitchen with Mochi in his arms, a leaf sticking to his paw.

“Daddy,” Harrie yells, scrambling down from her chair and hasting into James’ arms, Mochi already fleeing for his cat tree, presumably.

James hums delightedly, smiling as he squeezes their daughter to his chest, “Mm, mi amorcito.”

He’s still in his coat and beanie from outside, glasses fogging up—though luckily for him, he’s had the mind to slip out of his boots at least.

Harrie rubs her palms along James’ stubbled jaw when they pull apart, making him chuckle. “Missed me?”

“A little,” Harrie shrugs.

“Oh, only a little, huh?” James challenges, whisking Harrie up and whirling her around in the air, twirling himself and making her scream with joy.

He sets her against his hip after he successfully lost one of her hair ties on his little escapade, never to be found again or for Mochi to play with.

“Smells amazing, love,” James says warmly, gazing at Regulus before helping Harrie gently pull out the other hair tie too.

Which reminds him Regulus to check on the sauce again.

He smiles sweetly at his husband and wanders back over to the counter, grabbing the lid with a kitchen mitten and stirring the thickening sauce as he gets hit by its savoury tang and hint of black pepper and parsley.

At his back he hears Harrie and James babbling, conversing about something or the other as she takes her seat again. Something about finger paints and Ron and tea cup and pee accident.

Regulus is just stretching to get some plates when there’s strong arms wrapping around him from behind, prompting his lips into another immediate smile.

“Mi vida,” his husband mumbles, pressing a soft kiss behind Regulus’ ear.

James is warm and smells like caramel latte and outside air and the same hint of cologne found in their daughter’s hair.

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #jegulus dads #jegulus girldads #jegulus raising harry #jegulus drabble #jegulus fic #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #lune’s tiny fic

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penny00dreadful · 2 years ago

Text

Part 1 Part 3

The F-slur is mentioned here but only mentioned, not used to attack or demean.

“I don’t have a wife. I have… I have a husband.”

Future-Eddie slapped him on the shoulder. “Hell yeah you do.”

“They legalise it? They-” Robin looked over at her future self, her eyes glossy. “W- they can get married?”

“Yeah.” Future-Robin squeezed Steve and Robin closer. “Yeah. They can get married. Just in a couple of places to start but then country-wide.”

Nancy nodded along as though this was all tactical information useful for defeating Vecna. “Is anyone else going to come through?”

Future-Eddie shrugged. “Not sure. I think Robin and I were zapped here because our past and future selves were in the same geographical location when there was a pulse. So, sorry to say, Nance, but you’re definitely not about to pop in.”

“Why? Where am I?”

“Still on a plane back from Alaska last I heard.”

“What on earth was I doing in Alaska?”

“Spy shit.” The two time travellers said in unison.

Nancy uncharacteristically stumbled in surprise. “Spy shit? Seriously?”

“Well, personally I believe you’re an international 007, Agent Wheeler, but most of the rest think it’s just plain old boring investigative journalism.” His future counterpart clearly hadn’t lost any theatricality with time.

In fact it seemed to have gotten worse as he waved his arms around. “You’re like, the top dog at it, dude. Literally so good at it that barely anyone knows your name which you definitely use to your advantage. You’re super cagey on details.

“But this time around, you were in Korea when shit hit the fan. Again, don’t know what you were doing there but I did hear Pyongyang mentioned once so you were only a jump away from Kamchatka when Ellie felt a disturbance in the force so you volunteered to go see if it was the Ruskies again, but no dice. Completely filled in with concrete. We have no idea how you got there so quickly but my money is on spy shit.”

Nancy stared at him open-mouthed as he spoke.

“So… So I do it? I make it? I succeed?”

“More than succeed.”

“And,” Nancy bit her lip, like she didn’t really want to ask the question but she was burning to know nonetheless. “The whole… marriage and kids thing?”

Future-Eddie glanced toward Steve, occupied by Future-Robin who was trying to distract him from the conversation and Eddie’s heart sank.

“Nance, don’t take this the wrong way but I don’t think you ever wanted that. I think you were told to want that, as a woman, but it was never you. You don’t have any kids, you’re not married and I don’t think you ever want to be.”

Nancy looked almost relieved at the information and Eddie was so confused.

He still had a thousand questions firing around his head so he decided to latch onto something mentioned earlier.

“Who’s Cassie?”

Future-Eddie smiled softly. “She’s my youngest.”

Eddie choked on thin air. “Kid?!”

“Yeah.”

“Your youngest kid is my age?”

“God, dude. Don’t remind me. You’ll make me feel so old.”

“You are old.”

His future self shoved his arm. “Watch it, whippersnapper.”

“Who’re your other kids?”

“Here, let me show you.” He pulled a slab of something out of his pocket before shaking his head and pulling his wallet out instead. “I think a phone would be a bit too much, so we’ll do the wallet.”

Eddie blinked. “Right.” Like he knew whatever the fuck the guy was on about.

Future-Eddie pulled some photos loose and in the pile Eddie caught sight of a hairy muscular thigh and a torso littered in old scars stretched obscenely out on a bed and dressed in black lace before the photo was swiftly snatched out of sight and Future-Eddie stuffed it down his pants.

“Woah, whoops! You don’t need to be seeing that!”

“Eddie!” Future-Robin called, staring at him wide eyed. “Oh my god, you keep that photo in your wallet?!”

“It was an anniversary gift!”

“He’s going to rip you a new asshole once he finds out.”

“God.” Future-Eddie breathed. “I hope so.”

Eddie knew his face must be lobster red. From what he had just seen of his future husband, he was hot, metal as shit with those scars and willing to do things like… that?! He’d hit the damn jackpot.

If only he’d seen his face.

“Moving on!” Future-Eddie called brightly. “My girls.” He held out a photo of three teenagers backstage at some kind of concert. It looked like they were laughing at something that had just happened behind the camera, their backs to the stage. They all looked wildly different from each other.

“They’re older now, obviously, but this photo… It’s my favourite. Rhea, Poppy and Cassie." He pointed at each of them respectively

The girl on the left looked to be the oldest, blonde and short with glasses, dressed in oversized flannels and baggy ripped jeans. Her mouth was wide open in what must have been a cackle, nearly bent double with one hand on her sister's shoulder, keeping her balance.

The girl in the middle was taller, her hair was dyed a dark purple colour with two piercings over her black painted lips, dressed in flowing black lace. She had both hands up as if she’d just been hiding behind them, her eyes wide and incredulous, seeming to only really let out a giggle.

The third was a similar height to the girl in the middle, black haired and freckled, dressed in bright pastel colours with a cast on her arm. She was half hiding her face behind her hair, turned towards her sisters but her smile was so wide her eyes all but disappeared.

They all looked so happy together.

Holy shit.

He only ever had Wayne and now… well, in the future he has a husband and three daughters (holyshitholyshitholyshit), he’d built a family.

“Pretty unbelievable, right?” Future-Eddie smiled across at him, warm and content.

“Just wait ‘till you find out what he does for work!” Future-Robin shouted at him from up ahead.

Work? Eddie had never had a job before and everything in his future seemed so perfect, maybe this was the downer. God he hoped it wasn’t some corporate bullshit.

“What do you do for work?”

Future-Eddie blushed which was very fucking odd and scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m retired.” He shrugged.

“Eddie. You’re not going to tell him?”

“How can I tell him? Look at him! He’s having the worst week of his life! He’s being hunted by a town full of evangelical nutjobs, you think he’ll believe me if I tell him I have two Grammys and a Tony?!”

“Okay, pause.” Eddie put his hand to his future self’s chest, stopping them both. “I’m gonna need you to run that by me again.”

Because no fuckin’ way, man.

Nuh-uh.

Not a chance it meant what he thought it meant.

Not him.

Not some little rat goblin from rural Indiana.

“Two Grammys.”

Future-Eddie nodded. “Two Grammys and a Tony.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose before scoffing. “Why a Tony?”

“It’s called branching out, dude. Don’t gatekeep, it’s not a good look.”

Future-Robin grimaced from up ahead. “Sorry, he’s sensitive.”

“Yes, I’m sensitive, Rob! Lloyd Webber can suck my dick!” He grumbled and muttered in a way that was clearly supposed to be an imitation, “Not built for writing a broadway musical my asshole.”

“So…”

“So.”

“You’re… we’re like, famous?”

Future-Eddie shrugged. “Yeah. Kinda.”

“With two Grammys.”

“We would have more if we didn’t get banned.” He muttered again, clearly not supposed to be overheard.

Eddie just stared. “Dude! How the hell do you get banned from the Grammys?”

Future-Robin faltered in her steps ahead, stuttering in the middle of her answer to Robin about her work as a translator in Geneva.

His future self started to walk again, trying to brush him off. “Uh… You know what? It’s a long story, I don’t think we should-”

Eddie caught up. “No, no. This is my potential future right? I should know, maybe I can avoid it?”

Future-Eddie raised his hand to his jaw again, almost unconsciously, like those words hit him on multiple levels.

“Some things can’t be avoided, I don’t think.” He sighed heavily. “Alright. I got outed. Publicly. It wasn’t pretty. And it wasn’t just me, my husband got outed too. We called a blackmailer's bluff and they followed through.”

Eddie shook his head, disbelieving. “They banned you because you got outed?”

“No… not exactly. Okay, listen. I was in a really dark place at the time and I was so, so angry and you know what we’re like when we’re angry. It was incredibly controversial at the time and still is, kinda. Like a black stain on the band's past but I wouldn’t take it back if I could, you understand me?

“When I wrote it I was feeling super toxic and bitter and I’m not excusing it because it was so personal but the younger generation have picked it up again and they’re seeing it like it was meant to be seen. Like it’s about having to hide and live in fear all the time and how stressful and unfair it is and-”

Eddie sped up his steps just a little so he could look at his future self. “What did you do?”

“I…” Future-Eddie twisted at his wedding band. “I released a song called ‘Faggot’ and it’s exactly as painful as you think.”

Eddie sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Listen, I don’t really know how this whole divergent paths thing will work, how much of my life you will or won’t experience after this. But everything I went through, everything, made me who I am today. It’s going to be really hard and it really fucking sucks sometimes. But it got me my girls. It got me my husband. I wouldn’t give it up for anything, you understand me?”

He looked back down at the ground, contemplating. Even though he’d just heard of some truly awful shit that might happen to him at some point, he couldn’t help agreeing with his future self. He had the girls. They seemed happy. He had a husband and he seemed truly content with him, even if Steve’s shadow was still overhanging. But he didn’t really know that for sure. He wanted to know about who he was married to, even if he didn’t want to know who.

“Tell me about him?”

Future-Eddie’s face split into a wide grin. “I thought you’d never ask. He’s the biggest fucking dork I know. The sweetest guy in the world, kindergarten teacher, little league coach… he sees everything. Self sacrificial streak a mile wide, giving me grey hairs.” He laughed.

“Sounds like a normie.”

“The normiest. It’s adorable.”

“Eddie!” Future-Robin called, waving him over from up ahead. “I need you, c’mere.”

“That’s sweet, baby. But it would never work between us.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ, do you have an off switch?”

Future-Eddie’s grin turned feral. “I-”

“No!” She held up her hand. “Stop. Just come here, fucking hell.”

Eddie watched his own future counterpart practically skip over to the others, throwing his arms around both Robins and Nancy while his mind spun like a record without the needle down.

Fuckin’ time travel, man. What were the odds? But what were the odds of an alternate dimension and demon bats and demon dogs and just general demon fuckery?

And he was fucking married? What the shit. Like he’d pretty much resigned himself to short term secret shameful relationships or quick encounters in whatever club bathroom he ended up at in the city.

Some kind of life of settling down, with kids no less, was not something he’d ever dare believe…

“So.”

Eddie looked over. Steve was walking beside him, staying remarkably steady despite his wounds.

“So.”

He smiled at him but it was a little strained at the edges. “You have a husband.”

“I have a husband.”

And it was only really then that it hit him. Those words. Those words felt so… fantastic to say.

It wasn’t just the fact that he’d come out.

It was the fact that the words ‘I have a husband.’ meant that he had a husband. Someone who loved him unconditionally. Someone who stuck with his eccentricities and his trash panda tendencies. His parents were a terrible example for marriage and he knew, he knew that he would never allow himself to end up that way.

So this had to be it.

This had to be real.

“I don’t think I’d mind a husband.”

Eddie stopped dead.

Steve turned to look at him, a small smirk on his face. He strode two steps in front, continuing to walk backwards, keeping pace before placing a finger under Eddie’s chin and pushing his jaw back up. He hadn’t even realised it was hanging open.

“But… but you’re…”

"Yeah, I'm attracted to girls, I can hide if I want to and have an easy life. But boys are an option for me too. Don’t tell me you think I should play it safe because society tells me to. I thought you’d be better than that.” Steve slowed to keep pace with him again, knocking him with his shoulder and the barest hint of that smug smile on his face.

“Wh- I- I am. I am better than that. I’m sorry I just didn’t expect- you don’t-”

“I don’t look queer? Or act queer?��

“No! No, I didn’t mean…”

But he did mean that. He had thought that. And his shit had now been completely rocked because of it.

His jaw had fallen open again, he just realised. He snapped it closed and his mouth felt so fucking dry. “I think you’d make a good husband.”

“Are you asking?” Steve quirked an eyebrow at him and flashed his teeth with a grin.

Jesus H. Christ he was so pretty.

Fucking hell. Was this what it was like to be on the end of the Harrington charm? God, he was in so much trouble now.

And Steve was still grinning at him, like a cocky little bastard. “I don’t think anyone would want me as a husband anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I’m lost. Who the fuck would ever pass you up for a husband?”

Steve shrugged, a little more subdued than he was before. Eddie only barely caught the glance in Nancy’s direction.

“Wheeler’s loss.”

“No, I mean I get it. I have a lot of baggage and I feel like these bites aren’t going to just smoothe over. What happens then? What’s my spouse gonna do with me once I don’t have my looks anymore, you know?”

“Fuck your looks man, that’s not why people get married. That’s not why I’d get married.”

“It’s why my parents got married.”

“And you wanna have a marriage like theirs?”

“No! God, no. Never.”

“Exactly. So why do you think you’d allow yourself to get tied down to someone who only cares what you look like?”

“Maybe that’s the only reason they’d have me.” Steve grinned as if what he was saying was just fact. “Like I said, I’ve got baggage.”

Eddie shook his head. “We’ve all got baggage, man. I’m not trying to like, invalidate yours or whatever, but everyone has their shit. Yeah your shit is fucking intense, I mean look around, but that won’t matter to the right person. They might have their own. Might not be alternate dimension time travel shit but could be something similar. Maybe you’ll marry a veteran or a refugee. Or maybe you’ll marry someone who’s never experienced anything worse than a paper cut and when they stub their toe they only say ‘oh dear’. Relationships… marriage is a partnership, their baggage, your baggage, it’s there to be shared. It wouldn’t matter to me. I’ll take on my husbands shit and I’ll marry a man who’ll take on mine too. I know I will. I’m sure of it.”

Steve was staring at him like he had six heads.

Fantastic.

After he’d just spilled himself out of his mouth and everything.

But he wasn’t gonna back down.

It’s what he believed in his heart of hearts.

“I just-” Steve started. “I’ve never heard anyone describe it like that.”

“Like what?” To him, it just seemed like common sense.

“Like a partnership. You know like people always say relationships are commitment and dedication and selflessness.”

“Well yeah, they are but it has to go both ways. You can’t have one side putting in all that effort.”

“Partnership.” Steve muttered quietly, considering. “It has to be equal, right?”

“Yeah, now you’re getting it. It has to be equal.”

Steve’s smile was softer now, to go right along with his eyes. “You’re gonna make someone a really good husband one day, Eddie.”

Fuck, wasn’t that just a cupids arrow straight to the heart. And now Steve was looking at him all tender and it was driving him insane.

“You gotta at least cook me a nice dinner first before asking for my hand, there, Stevie.”

Steve shrugged. “Okay. What do you like?”

“Wha- I… What do I like?”

“What do you like to eat?”

Wait.

His mind was blank. He should really be able to improv his way out of this but his head was completely empty.

“Italian, I guess?”

Steve’s grin almost turned conspiratorial. He reached up and lightly tugged at one of Eddie’s curls. “Fuck, you’re perfect, aren’t you?”

“I’m on the run from the law at the moment, sweetheart.”

“Not for much longer if I have anything to say about it.”

They were interrupted by raised voices ahead of them. There was a brief moment of panic before he and Steve realised it was just the two time travellers bickering loudly as the trees started to thin and houses began to come into view.

“Well, why can’t we remember any of this then?” Future-Robin asked.

“Because it hasn’t happened to us in our past. It’s happening to us in our present. And their present. How can we remember something that hasn’t happened yet? Because it’s happening now. To four different people. Their timeline has already diverged from ours just by us turning up. This isn't our story anymore, it's theirs.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Future-Eddie waved his hand at her. “Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey.”

Future-Robin reached out and swatted him over the head. “You’re such a dork!”

“Hey!” He shoved her. “I only got into sci-fi because of you. Before you I was blissfully existing in a fantasy only realm.”

“Yeah.” She shoved him back. “You’re fucking welcome.”

They kept pushing and prodding at each other before it descended into chaos, devolving into some kind of childish slap war until eventually she had him in a headlock.

“Aaagh, Stevie! Help me!”

Steve just blinked at the two of them, probably trying to figure out how he was supposed to corral two adults who were nearly triple his age.

“So in the future, you and Robin seem to have some kind of… friendship?”

“Friendship?” Future-Eddie squawked. “No friendship here. She’s my soulmate by proxy. My sworn fuckin’ enemy.” From his bent over position he managed to grab her behind the knees and haul her over his shoulder.

“Barbarian!”

“Buckley, my tabletop wife, you know I’m a bard.”

“Would you two shut the fuck up?!” Nancy hissed. “You’re gonna get us eaten.”

Future-Robin was let back onto her feet, quietly.

“Sorry.”

It was objectively hilarious, watching two grown adults who could technically be their grandparents mutter their apologies as if they’d just been chastised by the school principal.

It was even funnier watching them punch each other in the arm as soon as Nancy’s back was turned.

“We’re here.” Nancy said, staring out at the houses. “C’mon.” Without a backwards glance, she took off running.

“Nan-!” Robin lowered her volume as they all chased after her. “Nancy!”

By the time Eddie and Steve had followed them through the front door, the rest of them were disappearing upstairs.

“Why didn’t you tell us this earlier?” Nancy was asking, holding what looked like a diary.

“Would you have believed us? You need to see evidence for yourself, you know that.” His future counterpart answered.

“What did I miss?” Eddie wheezed, placing his hands on his knees.

Fuck, he needed to give up smoking.

“It’s 1983.” Robin answered, patting his back.

“Is this more time-travel fuckery?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Future Eddie and Robin spoke at the same time.

“The Upside-Down is stuck in 1983. The day Will Byers went missing.” Nancy clarified.

“Right. Okay. 1983. Cool.” Eddie gave a thumbs up, leaning heavily against the doorframe. He glanced around. “Hey, where’s-”

He was abruptly cut off as the entire house around them shook, sending him tumbling back into the hallway. The sounds of photo frames and Nancy’s knick knacks crashing to the ground surrounded him but underneath it all his blood ran cold when he heard a pained shout from downstairs.

“Steve?!” He called out, panicked, trying to get to his feet but being defeated by his own severe lack of athleticism and the incessant shaking of the very earth beneath him.

He crawled towards the stairs, thankful that the shaking had stopped by the time he reached the first step.

He flew down them, nearly landing square on his ass again before catching sight of Steve, leaning heavily up against the wall and clutching his sides.

“Steve! Are you okay?” There were red patches starting to bloom under the makeshift bandages around his waist and he hissed in pain, as Eddie took hold of his arms, pressing his forehead into Eddie’s shoulder.

“I just… I just need a minute.”

There was the sound of something ripping beside him.

“Shit. Things move fast in this timeline, don’t they?”

Eddie turned his head and froze, staring wide eyed at the third figure standing next to them.

Part 1 Part 3

I'm thinking one more part for this auspicious anniversary/time travel fic. I'll update the posts with links and the AO3 link too.

Thanks everyone for your sweet comments and tag requests! Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. 🖤

Tags: @epiclazersharkshark, @estrellami-1, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @addelyin

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georgie-weasley · 2 years ago

Text

Mastermind F.W. x reader

Warnings: one swear word, talk of Death Eaters destroying shops, reader tries to play Fred like a game of chess but it's not weird, two mentions of Fred's forearms and his tummy

Word Count: 4.4k

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: You were going to get Fred Weasley if it was the last thing you did a.k.a how the reader tries to see if Fred likes them and makes him like her by trying to be 12 steps ahead of him

A/N: Another shout out to Taylor Swift for inspiring me to write

Masterlist

Fred Weasley. What a fine, fine man. Everyone could see it. There was not a soul on the planet who thought otherwise and if they did, they couldn’t have been real. He was beautiful, divine, delicious.

The first time you saw Fred was when you were 11 at the sorting. He was funny, trying to switch places with his twin and all, but you were both children. The only thing you were thinking about was what house you would be in and if your parents would be happy with that placement.

Throughout your Hogwarts years, you didn’t spend much time with Fred. Sure you shared some classes and you saw him in the halls but you never really interacted with him. Actually you spent more time with George; it was quite impressive how quickly you could tell them apart. The first time you really looked at Fred was during your sixth year at the Yule Ball. When you saw him standing there in his dress robes, you decided then and there you were going to have Fred Weasley even if it was the last thing you did.

The Great Hall had been emptied of the large tables and benches to create an open space perfect for dancing. That was exactly what you did. Your date, a sweet Hufflepuff boy named Justin, and you had been dancing the night away and enjoying your time together. He was cute and made you smile and everything was going amazing until Fred. He had been there the whole time but it wasn’t until now as he shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves that you cared. Oh my. He threw his coat onto a nearby chair and the smirk he gave his date just about made you turn into a puddle. You had to get close to him.

With your mind moving a million miles a minute, you hatched up a plan. Your date was going to ask you if you wanted some punch soon after a couple of well placed coughs. When he left to go get the drinks, you would make your way to George, telling your date you wanted to check in with your friends. Was it wrong to leave this poor boy as you chased another? Maybe if you didn’t know for a fact that Justin had the biggest crush on your friend. Once you got to George, it would be easy to get Fred.

Two coughs and sweet little Justin was playing his part well. He disappeared to get you some punch and you slipped through the crowd, eyes set on Fred. He was dancing now without a care in the world. Head and hips shaking, he was drawing you in. George was a little calmer and it made it much easier to get close to him. You spun around to face away from him and carefully timed your steps to bump into him right on beat. It looked like an accident which is exactly what it needed to look like. Fred and George were smart and you didn’t doubt they would figure your plan out if you slipped up.

“Whoops,” you spun around, feigning surprise as you looked up at George. “Sorry George. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

George only smiled and threw his arm around your shoulder. “Not a problem Y/N. I hope you and Justin are having fun. Where is he anyway?” He looked around, trying to spot your date.

“Oh he just stepped away to get me some punch. What about your date? Are you guys having fun?” You knew he didn’t have a date. For the past week George had been convincing his brothers that it was fine to go without a date. Him and Lee were technically going together but Lee currently was too preoccupied with Alicia Spinnet to dance with George.

“I didn’t come with a date.” What a surprise.

“Well then I guess that just means there’s no one stopping you from dancing with me.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to you as you moved closer to his twin. George only laughed and spun you as the two of you moved. He held your hands and danced; it wasn’t graceful and it followed a rhythm you could only assume was in his head but it was fun. George would be a fantastic brother-in-law one day. The group soon formed a small circle and you squeezed yourself between the twins. A great place to be really. You all grabbed hands and began what could only be called a whirlpool as you began spinning in a circle. As the song transitioned into a slow one, people started to pair off. You took both of Fred’s hands in yours and smiled up at him.

“May I have this dance George?” You knew it was Fred, however if he thought that you thought that he was George and you had just been dancing with George, he was less likely to deny you. Fred furrowed his eyebrows and as he caught sight of Angelina dancing with Alicia, he only shrugged and settled his hand on your waist.

“It’s actually Fred but yes, you may.” He spun you around slowly, carefully watching his feet so he didn’t step on yours.

“I hope I didn’t steal you away from your date.”

“You didn’t.” You most certainly did but she looked like she preferred dancing with Alicia anyway so there was no harm done. “What about your date?”

“Oh Justin? He went off to get some punch but he must have gotten lost or preoccupied.” You shrugged, honestly hoping he was dancing with someone else.

The rest of the dance was quiet, you and Fred only occasionally whispering to each other. When it finally did end, your feet were killing you and you needed to sit before you fell over. Actually, that wasn’t half bad. You parted from Fred and stumbled perhaps a little too dramatically but it did the job. Fred reacted quickly and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you up.

“Whoa there Y/N. You ok?” His sweet brown eyes were full of concern. They were full of concern for you and it made your heart flutter. He carefully took you over to a table and lowered you into a chair.

You nodded, kicking off one shoe. “I’m ok, my feet are just really sore.”

Fred kneeled in front of you and helped you take off the other shoe. “Well, that would be because you’re wearing these death traps.” He chuckled and took your foot in his hand, thumbs digging into them to try and work out some of the ache.

“So, Angelina.”

“So, Justin.” Fred glanced up at you before switching and massaging the other foot.

“Are you two dating?” You wanted Fred and you knew somehow you would get him but if he was taken, you would back off. It would have been horrible to hurt Angelina like that, even if she had your man. You also would have left Fred alone if he showed any discomfort or lack of interest at all but seeing as he was willingly trying to care for your sore feet, you didn’t think he was uncomfortable at all.

“No. If we were, I would not be over here massaging your feet.” Fred smiled and moved into the chair next to you. “What about you and Justin?”

“No, we’re just friends.”

“That’s good because currently he’s over yonder sucking face with some girl.”

You snorted and looked around, spotting him in the corner. Good for him. “It’s a good thing you and Angelina aren’t a couple either because I think her and Alicia have disappeared.” Fred only rolled his eyes and stretched his arms, his shirt rising up and his stomach peaking out. Was it getting hot in here or was it just Fred? You could really do with that punch now. “I think I’m officially done dancing for the night. You worked so hard to make my feet feel better and I would hate to ruin all your hard work.” He would stay with you, at least for a little bit. Fred was loud and honestly obnoxious but he was kind and a gentleman at heart. He would never leave you all by yourself at a dance.

“Would you like some company at the table then?”

“That would be lovely.”

---

The Yule Ball started a strong friendship between you and the twins. For the rest of the year the three of you had become practically inseparable. You loved George but some of your favorite parts of the day were when he was nowhere to be found and it was just you and Fred. Of course you were part of the reason for that, convincing George to run off and pull pranks on his own or see Katie Bell. you spent the rest of your sixth year finding ways to be alone with Fred and trying to find ways to make him like you. You never changed anything about yourself but you did pick up a couple of new hobbies that were certain to get Fred’s attention.

As the year ended and summer began, you wrote letters to the twins as often as you could. Your family was busy on holiday and though it was unknown to you, the twins couldn’t answer much anyway as they stayed in Grimmauld Place with the Order. As school began, so did more of your planning. It was hard avoiding Umbridge especially once her rule about boys and girls being close together was put in place but Fred had never been one to follow rules. You sent him secret messages, asking to meet you late at night in a hidden passage or in empty classrooms. They were innocent meetings, much to your disappointment, as Fred still had not asked you out. At this point you feared he never would. It was time to pull out the big guns. George. He was the big gun.

“George!” You chased after the ginger, shoving your way through the mass of students going about their day. “George Fabian Weasley!” That got him. He whirled around at the sound of his full name and for a second there was some fear in his eyes. When he caught sight of you, he visibly relaxed and waved, waiting for you.

“For a minute I thought my mother made her way into Hogwarts,” he laughed as you approached. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” He threw his arm around your shoulder and began walking.

“I actually needed to talk to you about something.” You were only a little worried about telling George your plans to get Fred but despite all of your planning, nothing was working. “Something that would be better discussed in private.” You were confident that somewhere in his heart and brain, Fred liked you just as much as you liked him but nothing was working. You needed help.

George raised an eyebrow but nodded and looked around the busy hallway before taking you over to a witch statue. “Step into my office.” He tapped the back of the witch with his wand and whispered a spell before it opened up into a hidden passage. The two of you slid inside and the opening closed behind you. “So, what exactly did you want to talk about?”

How were you supposed to say it? You didn’t want George thinking you were weird for trying to make Fred like you or ask you out but that’s basically what you were doing. Well, if there was no better way to explain it then might as well just say it how it is. Or just tell a small white lie. “I like Fred and I’m trying to spend some more time with him to see if he feels the same.”

George smiled wide and patted you on the back. “Well that’s great. Personally I would love to see you get together with my twin. Is there a reason you needed to tell me? I can ask him if he feels the same.”

“No, don't ask. I’d rather see if I can figure it out. I could use some help though.”

“Sure, whatever you need.” Thank Merlin for George.

---

The first plan you conspired with George was to leave some of your things around with him and then he would have Fred deliver them. That one was easy and while it did make Fred come see you and start to match different items with you, nothing had changed.

Next step was a little harder and had a greater risk of detention. In your Advanced Potions class one day, you stole a small vial of Amortentia; it was a powerful love potion that was supposed to smell differently to each person who smelled it. You smelled honey, Butterbeer, and gunpowder; basically you smelled Fred each time you caught a whiff of the potion. You weren’t planning on giving it to Fred because making him fall in love with you because of a potion was wrong and it would be the easy way out. You just wanted to know what he smelled and see if it smelled like you.

At breakfast the day after you stole it, you approached the twins. “I need both of you to smell this and tell me what it smells like.” You set the small vial in front of them.

“Is it poison?” Fred mused, grabbing it and swirling the pearlescent potion.

“Sniff it and find out.” You rolled your eyes and took it from him before shoving it under George’s nose. He would go along with it no questions asked. He trusted you and you say this with love but he was a little more dumb in a sense. Both boys were incredibly smart and while Fred was very carefree and did whatever he wanted, he still had the good sense to question things even if they came from someone he knew. George however probably would have drank it if you asked him to. He was a delight.

George took a long sniff and hummed. “It smells nice, kinda like lemons and maybe a campfire and… trees.”

“Trees?” You and Fred both asked at the same time.

“Yeah trees. Don’t look at me like I’m stupid. Trees have a special smell.” George crossed his arms over his chest and turned away from you.

“Whatever you say Tree Boy. Fred?” You held it out to him and with a sigh, he leaned over and smelled it.

“I don’t smell trees at all, even if they do apparently have a special smell. I smell something more like fresh baked bread and vanilla and something I can’t quite place.” Fred shrugged and leaned back, watching you closely. It took a lot of effort to keep your face neutral when all you wanted to do was grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he could place that last smell.

“Great.” You quickly spun around and started to take off when Fred stopped you.

“I know what it is. It smells like your shampoo.” You couldn’t even pretend to be neutral as he said this. A large smile spread across your face and you continued walking away. That lifted a huge weight off of your shoulders. It meant that he at least found you attractive in some way so this wasn’t all a big waste. You would have been pissed if you stole from Snape for no reason.

Now that you knew Fred at least liked you a little, you and George amped it up. He would ask Fred to meet him somewhere and you would conveniently be there as well. Then before Fred could even ask George why he was brought there, George would disappear and leave you alone with Fred.

---

You thought that maybe after all of your hard work Fred would finally ask you out but he didn’t. In fact, he left Hogwarts before graduation. The average person would have given up at this point but you refused. You spent the end of the school year trying to figure out what to do next. It wasn’t until after you graduated and had a job that you came up with another plan.

After graduating, you decided to spend a year working in Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore in Diagon Alley. It wasn’t your dream job but it was a good place and it had a room available right above it. With Death Eaters roaming around it wasn’t as fun as you hoped it would have been but it worked. You had somewhere to live and a job to pay for food. It also turned out to be the perfect spot to continue your quest for Fred Weasley. Right after school Fred and George opened up a joke shop and despite the Death Eaters and general depressing atmosphere, the joke shop was doing extremely well.

During your breaks you wandered Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes mostly hoping for a chance to see either twin but also it was probably the safest place to be. Over the first few weeks you learned his schedule pretty easily. He worked almost all day on the weekend since it was the busiest time at the shop. He worked less on Mondays and Thursdays and every Wednesday he got ice cream on his lunch break. You weren’t stalking him, you swear. If he showed any sign of hating you or not liking how frequently he saw you, then you would have stopped. Something just felt like Fred was the one.

You decided the best place to bump into him would be Wednesday during lunch. It wouldn’t be as creepy if you just so happened to see him out and about, because you aren’t stalking him. One Wednesday, you did just that. The plan was to get him alone and talk to him. You would catch up and you would mention how much you missed seeing him and then he would finally ask you out. You walked from the bookstore to the ice cream shop with your head down and hoped you would run into Fred and not a Death Eater. Only a few feet from the store, you rammed into someone and almost fell over if they hadn’t wrapped their arms around your waist. It had to have been Fred or a very polite Death Eater.

“Y/N?” You looked up to see a shocked Fred holding his ice cream out of harm’s way. “Is that really you? Gosh it's been a while. How are you?”

You smiled at him and took a small step back. “I’m alright. How are you? I see the store is thriving.” You pointed to the bright building across the street and your heart filled with warmth. You were proud of him and George for accomplishing so much.

“Yeah business is great. What about you? What are you doing here?” He looked around the street that was eerily quiet. Diagon Alley used to be bustling with so many people it was hard to walk around but now, it looked like you and Fred were the only two people on the street. “Before you answer that, let’s go talk in my office at the shop. It’s not a good idea to just linger around out here anymore.”

If he didn’t suggest it you would have. Diagon Alley was always a wonderful place to go before school. Going to Diagon Alley was really the start of the school year. You got to buy new books for classes and new robes and quills and ink and everything else. You saw friends you hadn’t seen in a while and heard about their summers. Now the street was empty and businesses were closed down. At the moment only Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was the only store thriving. The bookstore was open for now but it wouldn’t be much longer before it was closed or ransacked too.

Fred led you towards his shop, eyes constantly scanning your surroundings. When you were almost at the store, a trash can knocked over and Fred shoved you behind him and pulled out his wand, pointing it towards the trash can. A small cat scampered out from behind it and while his and your body sagged with relief, your hearts were still pounding a million beats a minute. He quickly ushered you into the store and the difference between the feeling of the outside and the inside almost gave you whiplash.

It was bright and cheery and filled with students all trying to get their hands on new products. Wednesday was supposed to be one of the slower days but it was still packed to the brim. Fred put his hand on the small of your back and took you up a flight of stairs and to the back corner of the shop. Hidden amongst the shelves was a door the office hid behind. It was small with only a desk and three chairs but it was cozy and felt safe. He took a seat behind the desk and you sat opposite him.

“Well, now that we made it here without a scratch, tell me about how you’ve been. I had no idea you were even in the area. A lot of people have left.” He took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves and you were taking back to the Yule Ball and the first time you really set your eyes on him.

“I started working at Flourish and Blotts not long after school ended. It’s really just temporary. To be honest I don’t even know how long it will stay open. Everything is shutting down.” It was scary. You didn’t know what would happen at any minute of the day. Honestly you spent so much time watching Fred from afar not because you didn’t have a plan but because just seeing him brought so much comfort and peace. You didn’t know what you would do if that got messed up.

“Why haven’t you come to visit sooner? It would have been great to see you.” Fred smiled and leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk.

“Oh well I didn’t know when you were free or how busy you were.” You were lying through your teeth.

“I thought you would have, seeing how you came into the store every day for weeks.” What? You came in on your breaks the first couple of weeks when you moved, that was right but you kept to yourself and you thought you were sneaky. He saw you?

“I did? You know it's been a long time since I first got here and so much has changed.” Your hands were sweating and your heart was racing. What was happening?

“You’re right,” Fred looked out the window, his eyes landing on the destroyed shops that lined the street. “A lot has changed,” he turned back to you, “but you sure haven’t. I mean you’re still trying to move me around like a chess piece. Has it been hard trying to hatch this grand plan to get me? It's been three years, right?”

There was no coming back from this. He knew without a doubt what you had been doing for years and there was no way you could lie or pretend he didn’t. You just hoped he would at least be your friend still after this. You looked down at your lap and tried to keep the tears in as you finally confessed. “Yeah it’s been pretty hard. Fred, I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to think I was weird but I just didn’t know what to do. I saw you at the ball and I just had to have you but I had to know what you felt first. Then it just sort of became more of a plan to get you to like me. I understand if you hate me and I promise to leave you alone if you want me to.”

Fred was silent and after a few minutes, you found the will to look up at him. To your utter surprise, Fred was leaning back in his chair and watching you with a smirk. “Darling, I don’t mind at all. It was fun to see how far you would go. Impressive as well.”

Your mouth dropped open as you stared at him. “How long have you known?”

“Since you called me George at the Yule Ball. You always knew which one of us was which but somehow you didn’t as you stole me away from Angelina for a slow dance.” Fred laughed and leaned over the desk, putting his finger under your chin to close your mouth.

You blinked once, twice, three times before smacking his hand away. “You knew the entire time?” You laughed and shook your head. “You knew and you just let me go around thinking I was playing you like a game of chess? You ass!” You burst into a fit of laughter along with Fred.

“Honestly,” Fred began as you both stopped laughing, “I was touched that you thought I was worth all of the hard work. Not as touched that you thought you were pulling the wool over my eyes while using my brother to help you.”

You covered your face with your hands and groaned, sliding down in the chair. “I hate you, Fred Weasley.” You peaked out from behind your hands and found him watching you with an adoring smile. “So you really don’t hate me for all of this?”

“If I hated you and didn’t enjoy this, I would have stopped you as soon as you put that Amortentia under my nose.” He grabbed your hands and pulled them away from your face, grasping them tightly in his. “Now that you know that I knew your grand scheme this whole time, how about I treat you to lunch? I’ve been planning this meal for three years.”

“I suppose but under one condition.” You sat up and leaned over the desk. “You have to kiss me. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for three years and I haven't because you let me play this game. I only think it's fair.”

Fred tapped his finger on his chin, humming. “I think I can get behind that.” He stood and cupped your cheek in his hand, bringing his lips down to yours. It was everything you dreamed of. His lips were soft and gentle and he tasted like honey and a hint of Butterbeer. All too soon he pulled away.

“Hey, come back. I never told you I got three years worth from one kiss.” You smirked and he rolled his eyes, moving back in.

“What a mastermind," he mumbled before his lips found yours.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfiction #hp fanfcition

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katyawriteswhump · 3 months ago

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See if I care

Late entry for @steddieangstyaugust prompt 24: ‘Go, see if I care,’ and also prompt 18 ‘right person, wrong time’ (I originally scribbled this idea for that one… whoops!)

Summary: When Eddie develops mysterious powers, he’s scared out of his mind. Steve is equally terrified of losing Eddie.

Rating: E. CW: problematic emotions, sexual content, self harm. Tags: established steddie, needy steve, eddie had powers. WC: 2000-ish.

…

Steve was staring into the pool, which had been emptied for the winter, when the mail van drew up outside.

He hurried over to take the delivery then turned over the single dog-eared letter. The address was written in Eddie’s hand. A thunderclap resonated through Steve’s chest, and he opened it quickly.

Steve, sorry it’s been ages since my last letter. Peru was a bust, so I followed the crazy visions to Pittsburgh, where I found this total badass with powers like mine. She’s helped me access locked up memories, and it’s blown me away.

Apparently, I spent several years as a kid in Hawkins Lab. Yeah, that dump that looks all shut up. They trained me to use my powers as a weapon, some bull about beating Soviets, and then something happened. Something so bad, my memory still won’t let me see it. After that, they must’ve somehow dumped me back with my uncle, and he was made to believe I was with my Pa all that lost time…

Steve skipped forward, flipped over the paper.

“Please, Eddie,” he whispered, “I need to know you’re coming home, or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

….

Three months earlier

“This is a baaaad idea,” said Eddie, as he and Steve squished into the bank queue. “They’ll take one look at the tats, the hair, the name Munson, and they’ll pee their forced-conformity pants and run screaming.”

“Jesus, have a little faith.” Steve didn’t get what Eddie was so nervous about. “They’ll let us open the account, no sweat. I’ve got a reference from my mom, and she’s super-well respected.”

“Yeah, but putting down a deposit for a condo? It’s kinda drastic, dude. I mean—”

“Chill.” Steve’s fingertips brushed Eddie’s soft lips. “It’s gonna be f—"

“EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND.”

Steve’s heart literally leaped into his mouth. A bunch of armed guys wearing cartoon character masks stormed into the bank. Steve threw himself behind the nearest counter, bunched up with Eddie and several others from the queue. Screams and cries filled the air, echoed by the piercing rat-a-tat of gunfire.

Steve covered his ears. Oh God, oh God. But they’re only after money. They don’t want us.

He lifted his face from his knees, reached for Eddie’s hand. Eddie looked frantic, clenching and unclenching his other fist.

“Breathe,” mouthed Steve. “It’s gonna be—"

At the sound of a child’s wail, Steve’s blood jumped again. He peeped around the counter. A robber wearing a Bugs Bunny mask had picked on a woman who’d been waiting with her kid. The little girl screamed and sobbed, while the robber waved his gun at the kneeling woman:

“Open the vault, NOW,” yelled Bugs to a quivering bank clerk. “Or you’re all gonna be finger-painting with mommy’s brains.”

Steve leaped to his feet, threw his arms in the air. “What is wrong with you, a-hole? Taking a hostage with a kid?”

“Yeah? You wanna be a hero? You wanna take her place?”

“Um…” Steve’s brain caught up with his instincts and his knees turned to jello.

Oh. Shit.

Steve felt a sickening crack across the back of his head. The next few minutes passed in a pain-drenched blur. He was thrown to the ground, dragged up again, pushed around. There was waaaay too much noise, more shouts about opening the vault, and he was scared he was gonna puke. He found himself held flush against Bugs Bunny’s chest, the cool butt of a pistol at his temple.

Always did hate that son-of-a-bitch carrot muncher.

“You wanna play games too?” Steve winced at the robber’s deafening yell in his ear, although the gun slid from his head. He lifted his chin to see Eddie facing them down. Looking pissed and spooked in equal measures. “Do YOU want a bullet in your brain, you long-haired loon?"

Steve’s terror spiked. Eddie lifted his arms and roared. A heavy blast hit Steve, throwing him backwards. He impacted something with a crunch and then landed with a heavy splat in a slick sea of blood and gore.

Somebody shot me. Or there was a bomb. I’m dying!

A wave of dizziness carried Steve far, far away.

…

Steve was in hospital for twenty-four hours, suffering from concussion, bruising and shock. Dustin visited Steve. His mom flew home, leaving his father alone in Paris. Robin was hard to get rid of. No sign of Steve’s boyfriend, though.

He was back at home in his room—moping and bored out of his aching skull—when someone tapped on the window. Steve hurried over, grabbed a wide-eyed, scared-looking Eddie and hauled him inside.

“Thanks,” gasped Eddie. “You know I suck at climbing.”

“Why not use the door like a normal person?” They stood nose to nose, breaths bated, not quite touching. “I mean, my mom isn’t mad at you. Not like I am.”

A beat passed. Steve glared and trembled and was pretty sure Eddie trembled worse.

“Steve, I’m sorry I didn’t swing by before.”

Steve exhaled crossly, mumbled, “Whatever.” They tumbled forward into each other’s arms and into a desperate kiss.

Steve made out like it was his last moment on earth—all that mattered was Eddie’s touch, Eddie’s longed-for taste, Eddie’s nearness. When they finally broke apart, Steve rested his forehead on Eddie's, burrowed his arms up the back of Eddie’s t-shirt:

“What the heck happened?” he asked. “That grainy footage from the bank is all over the news. Half the town believes you killed that bank robber somehow, and Dustin sure as heck says it’s real. Telekinesis, or something like that. Why didn’t you tell me you had freakin’ superpowers?”

“Because it’s scaring the shit outta me.” Eddie extracted himself from Steve and started pacing the room. “Look, Steve. I’m gonna have to get the hell out of Dodge. Alone.”

It took a moment for Eddie’s words to hit home. Steve staggered back and sat down heavily on the bed. “You’re dumping me?”

“Listen, I only discovered I could do this weird shit recently and it’s brutal.” Eddie hooked his arms around himself, unhooked them, and began wringing his hands. “When you were in danger, I hadn't a clue what to do. Then I threw Bugs Bunny into that wall so hard he exploded and you got caught up in it. I had literally no control over ANYTHING. You see why I can’t be with you?”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “You’re blaming me?”

“Not what I said, Steve.” Eddie clawed his hair. “Don’t you get it? I could hurt more people. I could hurt you. And here’s the real stinger—you’re the town’s whitebread hero for offering yourself as hostage. I’m more of an outcast freak than ever! Hawkins Post ran an editorial saying I commune with the devil and should be arrested for Bugs’ murder. Jesus, I goddamn hate that I killed, and I’d do it all over… to save you.”

“I can handle this.” Steve squeezed the words from tightly clenched teeth. “Christ, I can look out for myself. None of this is a good reason for us to split.”

Eddie stopped pacing, puffed out a sigh that sounded horribly like one of relief. “I’m sorry. You’re the right person. It’s simply the wrong darn time.”

“Go, then!” Steve leaped up and screamed point-blank in Eddie’s face. “See if I care!”

Eddie’s shoulders slumped and he turned away. He’d gotten one leg slung over Steve’s windowsill, when he peeped back, face crumpling. Steve dived forward and flung his arms around Eddie. Two seconds later, they were rolling on his bed, kissing each other stupid again.

“Holy shit. I missed you so much,” groaned Eddie.

Steve savored a flicker of triumph, then plunged his tongue back down Eddie’s throat.

They peeled each other’s shirts off, kissing and breaking apart, then kissing again. Steve’s jaw ached, and all his bruises from the robbery started up singing. Soon, Eddie was dry rutting into Steve, jerky and desperate and hurting Steve worse. Steve didn’t care. His fingers tugged and tangled and messed up Eddie’s hair, and then he clung so hard.

They’d never had full-on sex. Steve was ready as always to roll over, spread his legs, and offer Eddie pretty much anything. He’d bang Eddie silly too, if Eddie wanted that. Eddie shoved his hand down the back of Steve’s pants, grabbed the meat of Steve’s butt and squeezed hungrily. Nevertheless, he seemed pretty happy carrying on like this, and they’d both already pushed beyond a semi. Steve fiddled down his own fly then Eddie’s.

“Damn, Steve… Gnnnng!”

They grasped each other’s dicks and scrubbed against each other’s stomachs, skins sliding, getting slippery and wet. Then they started up kissing again, and it was never gonna take long. Steve spurted messily over Eddie’s hand and chest. Eddie’s dick jerked crazily in the circle of Steve’s fist.

Jesus... Wow! Ouch?!?

Steve felt like his brain as well as Eddie’s dick exploded. Gaudy colors wheeled in front of his eyes, echoed by a disturbing crackling noise. Eddie broke the kiss, collapsed, boneless and sweaty, on top of Steve.

For a few happy moments, they floated, their heavy breaths falling into rhythm.

Then Steve spotted the broken window, the glass on the carpet.

And heard his mother’s shout: “Steve? Are you okay? What on earth was that noise?”

“Fine, mom. Uh, just a minute.” Thank Christ his door was bolted.

Steve remained on the bed, his brains still mush from the crazy-hot orgasm. Eddie was already on his feet, dragging his shirt on. Then he was at the window, gingerly hoisting himself over the shattered remnants of the pane.

“Don’t you dare!” hissed Steve, forcing himself bolt upright. “I’m coming with you. I just need to grab some stuff. Clothes… meds… cash.”

“Are you insane? You either bagged yourself a poltergeist who hates guys jacking off together… or I just exploded your window.” Eddie raked damp hair from his doleful eyes. “I’m sorry, Babe. I hope this won’t be forever.”

He lowered himself down and disappeared. Steve dithered, torn. He wanted to chase after Eddie, but his stupid concussion headache now hurtled back with vengeance. Plus, his mom hammered on the door. “Steve! What’s going on?”

“I, uh… I dunno.” He straightened his clothes, bustled to conceal the worst of the mess. “I had the TV on, and… Something smashed into my window, I guess.”

He let her in and slumped on his destroyed bed, while she tiptoed around the glass. He dabbed his lips, still burning with Eddie’s kisses.

He waited till his mom had gone to call a glazier. Then he busted his knuckles punching the wall, nursed his bleeding fist, and cried.

…

Steve scanned the letter, helplessly seeking the words he needed.

The words that told him Eddie was coming home to him at last.

After Eddie had left, Steve had holed himself away with Dustin, who’d shared geek theories about Eddie’s powers—mainly gamma rays and other dweeby shit out of comic books. Dustin knew tons more about Eddie’s crazy-pants talents than Steve did. In fact, Steve suspected Eddie had spilled all to Dustin long before he’d been forced to reveal himself to Steve.

“His powers were changing him,” Dustin had told Steve. “Eddie was never one for heroics. And there he was, foiling bank robberies. It scared him shitless.”

“Total bull,” Steve had snapped. “Eddie always had that streak in him, I swear. The only thing he’s being a coward about is…

“… me.”

Yada yada yada.

Me, me, ME.

Steve guts knotted tightly, as he scanned Eddie’s letter a third time.

I love you, wrote Eddie, toward the end.

“I love you too,” murmured Steve. “When you’re ready to come home, I promise I won’t frogmarch you into another bank. Push you into all that grown-up crap. I’ll be there for you, when you need me. God, I’m such an idiot.”

He furiously screwed up the letter and dropped it to the leaves and sludge at the bottom of the empty pool. Then he jumped in after and fished it right out. He read it properly, studying harder than he ever had in class.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Take all the time you need, Eddie. I wish I could tell you… I’ll wait.”

…

Eddie conquers all, becomes a superhero crime-fighter known as The Stunner. Steve is his sidekick and Dustin his gadget guy and they all live happily ever after.

Which is actually closer to the angst-light fic that I intended to write before this wrote itself instead 😛

Thanks for reading!

My Stranger Things fic on AO3

#steddieangstyaugust #steddie angsty august #steddie #steve harrington whump #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie smut #steddie fanfiction

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romione-trope-fest · 9 months ago

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Hufflepuff Tea (Search)Party

Fic Title: Hufflepuff Tea (Search)Party

Author Name: CowahBull

Selected Trope: OotP Missing Moment

Brief Summary: Hufflepuffs are great advice-givers. They’re the best argument mediators. Find a Hufflepuff if you need to be told the brutally honest truth. A Hufflepuff will never purposely steer you wrong. Hufflepuffs are also excellent gossip-finders. It’s a well-known fact around Hogwarts that if you ever need to know what’s going on in the school, you find a Hufflepuff. This particular group of Hufflepuffs has their eyes set on the story around a certain pair of Gryffindor Prefects.

Word Count: 2859 Rating: G Trigger Warnings: None

_____________

Attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible, Hannah and Susan exited the Room of Requirements to make their way back to the Hufflepuff Common Room. Hannah ensured that her prefect badge was securely attached as they passed a small group of third-year Slytherins in the second-floor corridor. She watched them turn onto the staircase leading to the Great Hall.

“Did you see me hit Zacharias with that Stunner?” Susan was chatting happily as they passed the portrait of the bowl of fruit, which hid the entrance to the kitchen. “He didn’t even have a chance to Shield.” Susan gave a triumphant whoop, and Hannah hushed her while giggling herself.

“Ernie got me a couple times tonight,” Hannah admitted as they approached the entrance to the Common Room. “I’m going to need to practice my Shield Charm before the next meeting. Do you want to practice with me after we finish Snape’s Potions essay?”

“I have Flitwik’s essay after I’m finished with Potions,” said Susan, giving the second barrel to the right a hard knock, revealing the entrance to the nearly empty Hufflepuff Common Room. “We’ll have work on it later in the week.”

“Damn,” Hannah said, disappointed. “Yeah, we can do that.”

They found seats around the table in the corner and prepared to begin working on Snape’s Shrinking Solutions assignment; they were joined shortly after by Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan.

“Guess who I just caught snogging behind that tapestry of the unicorn hunt,” whispered Ernie, relishing in the chance to share the latest gossip.

“Peeves and Sir Cadogen?” Susan teased, trying and failing to keep her focus on the schoolwork in front of her.

“Ginny Weasley and Michael Corner.” Ernie took his seat to Susan’s left and began pulling Snape’s essay from his bag. “Third couple I’ve caught back there this month.”

“People need to find another place to snog,” Hannah said, rolling her eyes. “I found Ancrum and Hurst back there yesterday.”

“Amatures,” scoffed Justin, “everyone knows about that spot. You’re guaranteed to be caught back there. Surprised Filch hasn’t permanently posted himself there overnight.”

Susan shared a mischievous look with Ernie before returning her attention to her parchment; she still needed to add another four inches on the importance of the full moon on ingredient harvesting.

Scratching quills and the rustle of papers filled the room, interrupted only by questions asked of neighbors and the occasional curses on Snape’s name.

“So, when did Weasley and Granger start dating?” mused Ernie as he flicked through the pages of his textbook.

"Wait!” Susan exclaimed, throwing down her quill, suddenly extremely invested in Ernie’s latest news. “I didn’t know they’re actually dating. Have you been withholding information from us?”

“Haven’t you seen them in the last few DA meetings?” continued Ernie. “They never stopped flirting that entire time.”

“I don’t think they even know they’re flirting,” Hannah argued.

“They were joking around a lot between their Stunning Spells,” Justin said disinterestedly. “I don’t think that means they’re dating, though.”

“I think Neville would have mentioned it if Ron and Hermione were together,” Hannah said, not looking up as she opened her copy of The Standard Book of Spells: Volume Five. “He shares a dorm with Ron, after all.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know,” argued Ernie.

“I really don’t think that’s enough evidence to prove that they’re together,” sighed Susan, returning her attention to the book in front of her.

“We can ask Longbottom tomorrow,” suggested Justin. “We have Herbology with Gryffindor in the afternoon. Hannah partners up with him whenever possible.” He gave Hannah a playful wink that she responded to with a rude gesture, her cheeks turning pink. Susan rolled her eyes and picked up her quill and a fresh piece of parchment. She had far too much homework tonight to debate the rumored love life between the two Gryffindor Prefects.

—

Greenhouse Six housed the tropical plants, making it the hottest classroom in the school. Susan and Hannah had already shed their outer robes and had pulled their hair into high buns on top of their heads when Professor Sprout charged the class to break into groups of three to take on the task of repotting Solanum melongena. Hannah was quick to claim Neville Longbottom as her and Susan’s partner.

Tucking into a station, Susan began prepping the new pot while Neville and Hannah set off on the task of calming the plant so it would allow them to uproot it without stinging them in the process. Susan eyed Weasley and Granger across the greenhouse as they began complimenting and stroking the plant sitting in front of them on the other end of the long work bench, with Potter to the left of them prepping a transfer pot.

"Wow, you have such beautiful leaves,” cooed Neville as he stroked the plumage. “Come on, dear, let’s have a look at those roots.” He gently lifted the leaves of their plant and extracted a small handful of dirt. The melongena twitched menacingly at his touch.

“Wonderful job,” Hannah said, reaching in to take a handful of dirt for herself. “So, Neville, we’ve been meaning to ask you about something.” She began to back away as a branch jerked at her.

“Now, now there’s no reason to be like that,” Neville scolded. “Hannah is just trying to help.” He didn’t take his eyes off the flower to which he was tending while addressing the girls, “What do you need to ask me?”

Susan leaned in close to him. “So what’s going on with them?” she gestured her head towards Weasley and Granger across the greenhouse, who were chatting happily with Potter.

Neville furrowed his brow. “Dean and Seamus?” he asked, barely lifting his eyes from the plant. “I’ve been wondering about them too…”

Susan stifled a laugh. “We all have.”

“Come on,” sighed Hannah, pulling a root from the pot. “You know exactly who we’re talking about.”

“Granger and Weasley,” Susan whispered. “When did they start dating?”

“I don’t think Hermione likes him like that,” Neville said, looking at them with mischief in his eyes. “Besides, isn’t Charlie a little old for her anyway?”

“Stop taking the piss, Longbottom,” added Susan, crossing her arms and glaring at Neville.

“Sorry, Susan.” Neville shrugged and returned his attention to the Solanum melongena, dodging to avoid being hit by one of its swinging vines. “I have no intelligence for you.”

–

That evening, Ernie was patrolling the west side of the castle, being sure to check behind every alcove and tapestry he passed. When he turned the corner to the third-floor staircase, he spotted a pair of Ravenclaws. Just who he was hoping to see.

“Michael, wait up,” he called, going up the stairs toward Michael Corner and Terry Boot.

The boys stopped as soon as Ernie reached them. “What’s up?” Michael asked.

“You’re still dating Ginny Weasley, right?”

Michael’s eyebrow cocked. “What’s it matter to you?“

“What’s the deal with her brother and Hermione Granger?”

“It’s not like we spend our time together talking about her brother’s love life.”

“So,” Ernie prodded further, “Ginny hasn’t said anything about their flirting during…” he looked over his shoulder. “–Er practice?”

“I’m not there to watch everyone else’s business,” Michael snapped. “I’m there to learn,” he added in a lowered voice.

“It did seem like Granger did hold his hand for a little longer than necessary when helping him up,” interjected Terry. “That’s hardly worth a fuss.”

“You could ask Lavender or Parvati,” shrugged Michael. “Do you think Hermione would have said anything to them?”

“I doubt it,” moaned Terry, appearing to be almost as interested in the rumors as Ernie. “Hermione doesn’t exactly seem like the ‘braiding each other’s hair and chatting’ type.”

Ernie considered their suggestions. “Hannah asked them before. No luck.” He turned to Michael. “His sister-”

“Yeah, I’ll ask Ginny what she knows.” He looked over Ernie’s shoulder suddenly and hitched his bag up his shoulder as Draco Malfoy and his usual posse came around the corner. “Better get out of here before he starts making trouble,” he added in a low tone.

They turned and walked away from each other before Malfoy could reach them. “No unauthorized meetings are allowed, Macmillan,” he sneered. “Ten points from Hufflepuff.”

Ernie scowled at the Slytherin gang and continued down the stairs. Making rude hand gestures when he was out of sight.

At the entrance to the Great Hall, Ernie found Hannah and Susan skipping toward him from the direction of the library, mischief in their eyes.

“Do you have any idea why Amanda Comstock would be in an empty classroom with Dexter Woodworth after curfew?”

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

–

Justin jogged past a group of third-year Ravenclaw students waiting outside the Arithmancy classroom.

“Sally-Anne, wait up!” Just who he wanted to see. As he caught up to her, he leaned to whisper, “What’s this I’m hearing about Comstock and Woodworth?” He matched pace with her as they made their way to double transfiguration.

“What is it that you’re hearing?”

“Something about the Prefects’ bathroom…”

”No, that was Cedric and Cho last year.”

“Oh right,” Justin waved for her to go on. “A classroom?”

“Yes, a classroom.” Sally-Anne nodded. “I heard that Miss Maisy Blackmon was out on patrol when she heard rustling in Binn’s classroom.”

“NO!” Justin’s shout startled a pair of first-year Gryffindors walking past. “Old Binnsey’s room? I wouldn’t consider that the most romantic place.”

“He’s got a thing for troll riots, I guess,” Sally-Anne shrugged. “Anyway,” she continued, ”Maisy goes into the room expecting to find Peeves-”

“Were they making that much of a ruckus?”

Sally-Anne only looked at him before continuing. “She goes in and sees the two of them all tangled up against the professor’s desk.”

“Here, I thought she liked girls.”

“She likes hot people,” Sally-Anne shrugged. “Hey, what’s the news on Ron and Hermione?”

“The rumor mill is all over the place.”

“You think Granger is still seeing Victor Krum?”

“She’d be crazy not to.” Justin jumped to tap his hands against a discolored brick above his head. “He is internationally famous, after all.”

“But we have no solid evidence?”

“I’m convinced they’re dating.”

“Granger and Weasley?” He had her full attention now. Justin had to pull her robe sleeve to help her avoid walking right through a passing ghost. “You have evidence to back up that claim?”

“Ron and Hermione have been seen in each other’s company more than Potter’s for the last few weeks.”

“They were doing an awful lot of laughing during dinner yesterday,” Sally-Anne added.

“The flirting really is getting out of hand.”

“That’s couple behavior, if I’ve ever seen it,” said Sally-Anne, shaking her head and smiling. “I wonder when it happened.“

“I’ll let you know when I find out,” sighed Justin as they reached McGonagall’s classroom door. “Troll riots, you say?”

–

Professor Binns droned on in front of them as Ernie spent his time scribbling on a scrap piece of parchment.

Don’t look now. What’s Weasley doing?

Hannah stretched in her seat, stealing a peek behind her. The Gryffindors were seated at the bench a few yards away. Hermione sat scribbling furiously in her notes, giving Binns her undivided attention. Harry was asleep with his face in his hands and his glasses propped on top of his head. Ron had his eyes closed and his head resting–

Oh Merlin! How long has he been resting on her shoulder?

A WHILE!

Does she even notice?

She was looking at him with total heart-eyes earlier.

Ernie drew a stick person with giant hearts for eyes and big curls coming from her head.

Hannah nudged her elbow into Susan’s side, jolting her out of the sleepy trance into which she was slipping. At her confused look, she passed the parchment in front of her and signaled for Justin’s attention as well. They both sat and read the note intently before they both found themselves with sudden cricks in their necks that simply needed to be stretched out immediately.

Susan gasped but covered it up with a cough. Justin stole the paper and his quill.

So they are dating!! We need to figure out when

A head on her shoulder does not equal dating. I do that to Hannah all the time.

Ernie craned his head to read the note sitting between Hannah and Susan. He shot them a look that meant one thing: ‘You’ve got to be kidding me’. Taking the paper, he scrawled.

You didn’t see the heart-eyes. If they’re not dating now, they will by the end of term. I guarantee it!!

He tossed the paper back to the group with a look of pride. The bell rang, rousing everyone in class from their stupor. Ernie watched as Ron jolted up from Hermione’s arm, both blushing and refusing to look at each other.

–

Prefect patrol duties were really cutting into their study schedule. Hannah complained to Ernie about their course load as they aimlessly roamed the halls for the last hour before curfew.

“She’s a sadist,” she cried. “Who assigns a four-foot assignment on Shield Charms without including class practice time?”

“Maybe Harry will be able to go over it with us again on Monday.” Ernie pulled his magic coin from his pocket to confirm the date. “I need to get Justin back for that Stunner he sent to my face.”

“I’m going to ask Hermione if I can look at her notes for Arithmancy. Mine just don’t feel complete enough. And you know how strict Professor Vector can be about thoroughness. I don’t know how I’m going to finish those problems for her by class tomorrow.”

Hannah talked non-stop for three floors while Ernie halfheartedly looked inside every classroom they passed.

“Shh,” he said to Hannah before calling into the long, unused classroom. “It’s almost curfew; you better get back to your Common Room.”

A mop of red hair appeared from behind the teacher’s desk, pulling up a very embarrassed-looking girl.

“Weasley, please,” Ernie started. “I’m much too tired to deal with this tonight.”

“Not a problem at all,, my friend,” laughed Fred (or was it George?) as he reached into his pocket and pulled out two small packages. “How about we part ways here and pretend it never happened?”

He put the bags of Weasley Wizard Wheezes products into Ernie and Hannah’s hands before pulling an apologizing Angelina Johnson down the hall toward the Gryffindor Common Room.

“No detours!” Hannah called after them, but they were already gone.

“That has got to stop happening,” said Hannah as she pocketed her bribe. “I’m going to be able to start my own joke shop with everything hiding in my trunk.”

“We could just report them.” Ernie shrugged. “But where’s the fun in that?”

Continuing their patrol, they peered into classrooms and behind statues periodically but found nothing but cobwebs and dust.

“We should head back to the Common Room,” Hannah yawned. “Double Potions with Slytherin first thing tomorrow.”

Ernie yawned his agreement and opened the door for the second-floor corridor. Before she could get through the door behind him, he froze. At the bottom of the stairs were Ron and Hermione, on their own patrol. Hermione was laughing animatedly at the impression Ron was making of Umbridge, their fingers interlocked.

Hannah shut the door, and the two leaped an arm’s length apart, realizing they were not alone. “Good evening, Ernie. Evening Hannah,“ Hermione said nervously, her cheeks pink. Ron nodded but refused to make eye contact with either of them.

"Hello, Hermione,” Hannah said, her voice a little too polite. “Good evening, Ron.”

“Evening,” Ron said as he and Hermione began ascending the stairs.

Ernie seemed to have found his legs again and continued to descend, passing them in the middle. Hannah followed close behind, her mind buzzing but her face remaining as neutral as possible.

As both parties met on the staircase, Ron cleared his throat and spoke in a low tone. “Er Harry hasn’t sent the notice yet, but -er- it moved to Thursday after dinner.”

“Right,” Ernie said, nodding. “Thanks.” He gave a weak thumbs up before he and Hannah passed through the space the Gryffindor students had created between each other.

The moment they were around the corner and out of earshot, Hannah turned to Ernie, her eyes alight. ‘Oh my god’ they mouthed to each other before hurrying toward the ground floor.

Ernie scratched his knuckle from pounding on the barrel blocking the Hufflepuff Common Room, but he gave it no notice as he and Hannah went running up to the table where Susan and Justin sat, absorbed in their homework.

“Oh my gods, you will never guess who we just saw!”

#submission

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donutwatches · 1 year ago

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MHA 2.13 - Time to Pick Some Names - part 2

Because I didn’t have enough character names to remember already. Let’s add a dozen new names to remember. Ha.

I do not know what I was expecting, but it was not this, lol. I love our french disco dancing queen. He said, I’m not going to have a measly hero name, I am going to have a FULL sentence!

Oh man, I wish Midnight would let her keep the Alien Queen name. That is way more fitting than Pinky. She should at least have a name connected to acid. Pinky is a lazy name. Like, she’s pink, big whoop.

Who is Crimson? I guess this is a pro that our Kirishima looks up to. Red Riot might be my favorite out of the kids hero names.

Kaminari is the last character I would expect to drop a Hemingway reference. Even though the joke about him is always that he is brainless, isn’t this proof that he has some smarts?��

Wow, Earphone never lets him breath, huh. Such school girl crush behavior.

I am guessing that he wants distance from the Todoroki name because of his butthole father. I like it! Simple, but it feels like he is being himself.

THIS IS THE CUTEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN. I WILL NEVER RECOVER.

I feel like we already got that Deku would be Midoriya’s hero name since season 1, but it still feels like a full circle moment. I love the idea of him taking a name that was an insult and flipping it into something uplifting.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Why is he like this? I swear. It is great that he changed it from “King” to “Lord” as if the issue with the name was the status title and not, you know, the murder part.

Hmmm, so this mysterious mustard yellow cloaked man is All Might’s teacher. I hope he is a better teacher than All Might because Deku needs some help.

Nooooooooooooo! So ominous! It is wrong to see Iida with vengeance in his eyes like this. Talk to your friends! Please don’t go out on your own and get your self hurt! I just know nothing good can come out of this. Nerd rage should never be fooked with!

Click here for episode 14

Click here for the master list.

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simpforfandoms · 2 years ago

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Here with me

a/n: I got my wisdom teeth out and I’m high on pain killers rn so I don’t know what this is also it's been like a year since I've last uploaded I've just haven't had the motivation whoops. Also requests are open so please request I'm running out of ideas.

pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader (probably could be read as gender neutral)

summary: reader got broken up with by a text of all things

genre: angst, hurt with comfort, tooth-rotting fluff at the end

word count: 2665

warnings: language, not proofread

masterlist

“you’re nice and all but I don’t think this is going to work out.”

You’re heart drops. You read the text over and over again. Guess he lives up to his name. What kind of person ends it over text? You don’t know how to respond. A million thoughts at once fill your head. Do you respond with a whole ass paragraph begging him not to leave you? Do you call him? Do you run over to his work? What the fuck do you do? Your finger hovers over the call button. If you call him would he even answer? What could you do to salvage this relationship? It wouldn’t be the same if you could fix the relationship. Doubt would fill your brain. More doubt than you already had. In retrospect, you should’ve seen this coming. Dick Grayson is a beautiful human sent from the heavens above. And you? Well, you’re just you. It was stupid of you to think that a guy like him could ever love a gal like you. You check the time.

5:48

You know Dick can see that you read the text for almost six minutes now. You freak out and reply with the first thing you could think of.

“Okay”

He reads it almost instantly.

And just like that, it’s over. Almost a three-year-long relationship. Down the fucking drain. It’s funny it seemed like only 2 hours ago he was telling you how much he loved you and missed you. Where did you go wrong? You’ve done nothing but been there for him. You’ve been a good girlfriend. Maybe not the best. Definitely not Barbara. Barbara. Her name brings a funny taste to your tongue. A pit in your stomach forms. She’s everything you’re not and more. He probably reconnected with her and realized that he’s better off with her. Oh my fucking god why can’t you be better. Be better. Be fucking better. So many words that you want to say to him. Please being the most frequent one. You want to cry. Scream. Anything. But you can’t. It’s like you’re paralyzed. You’re hands are shaking as you find the caller ID and quickly push it.

“hey what’s up?”

“me and dick broke up?” You say it almost like a question.

“What oh my god! What happened?!?! I’ll kill him”

“Babs I need you to be completely honest.” You say gulping, “did you have anything to do with it?”

“No of course not,” she says

Of course she didn’t. She might be Dick’s ex but she wouldn’t betray you. A part of you hates yourself for ever thinking that.

“I’m coming over right now” you hear a muffled voice in the background but before you could ask she hangs up.

Weird but you didn’t have time to focus on that. You just got dumped. You can’t say you didn’t see it coming. You don’t know what hurts worse, being broken up with or believing that for once you were worthy of love. People say that “you accept the love you think you deserve.” If that’s true than why the hell were you and dick together. Dick is the most perfect boyfriend. Maybe it was all a mask. Maybe he didn’t actually love you. A small part of you hope that its not true, but the logical more realistic part know that it was all just a fantasy. A beautiful fantasy, but a fantasy nevertheless. You wish you could cry. You feel like everyone else in this situation would cry. Maybe it’s because you’re still in denial. You’re still hoping for Dick to say this is some sick joke.

•

1 hour earlier

“You don’t understand I love her!” Dick retorts.

“Dick you don’t understand. Y/n’s a civilian. Telling her, hell even dating her puts her at risk. I am ordering you, not asking you, to break up with her.” Bruce says.

Dick takes a long exaggerated sigh. Leave it to Bruce to turn innocently declaring that he was going to propose into a full-blown argument. His brothers sit and watch patiently. As if they’re waiting for a lion to attack. Barbara, on the other hand, is waiting for a chance to speak. After all, you are her best friend, she has to do everything she can to prevent you from getting hurt. By that, she means mentally. She has no doubt in her mind that Dick can protect you. Honestly, she found it heartwarming that Dick had come to her for the approval of the engagement ring. She only regrets suggesting that he tells Bruce.

“Bruce I’m not a kid anymore you can’t boss me around.”

“Think about all the people we have lost because they knew our identity. If you truly loved this girl you would set her free.”

Dick mutters something under his breathe. Barley auditable. Something along the lines of “I don’t want to”

•

knock

You don’t bother to answer the door you know it’s Barbara. You know she has a key.

“Oh honey I’m so sorry!” She says as she runs over to hug you.

“It’s okay it’s not like your the reason he broke up with me.”

You notice a falter in Barbara’s face. She showed a tinge of guilt but as quickly as it appeared it went away.

“I know but I’m still sorry” she says.

“Y’know it’s funny Babs I thought I was gonna marry him. For a moment there I thought he felt the same. It was stupid of me. I turned a blind eye to him coming home late all the time. It shouldn’t have been such a big shock. I guess in the back of my mind i always knew there was someone else. I guess I should pack up my shit and get the fuck out of here. I don’t think I can handle looking into eyes without crumbling.” Tears begin to fall.

Barbara does nothing more than squeeze you tighter. A reassuring comfort that it’s not your fault. You know she knows something you don’t know and only wish she could tell you, but you also know that maybe she won’t tell you to keep you safe. You think about, if she knows that dick broke up with you because of someone else, maybe she’s just saving all the pain that comes with feeling you’re not enough. But she also has to know that you already feel your not enough. You pull away from the hug to look her in her eyes. Searching for answers. You grab her hands in yours.

“Babs if you know something I don’t please tell me, I know you want to protect me but please I assure you that I already have self doubt and if you tell me that there was for sure someone else all that could bring is closure. So please for the love of god tell me.”

She suddenly pulls away breaking eye contact.

“No! It’s not that- it’s uh. It’s all my fault Y/n. I’m so sorry.” She says in a hush voice covering her face in guilt.

As if your heart couldn’t possibly break it more, it feels betrayal.

“Babs were you the other woman?” You say not understanding.

“Oh my god of course not.” She turns her head to look at you. “I would never ever do that to you”

“Then how is it your fault?” You question confusion mixed with sadness on your face.

She turns away again.

“It’s just- oh god. I promised dick I wouldn’t tell you.” She closes her eyes and gulps. “A week ago Dick came to me asking to help pick out an engagement ring for you. He was going to propose.” She then looks at you searching for any reaction.

“He was? I don’t get it then why would he break up with me?”

“I convinced him that he should tell Bruce and all, thinking that Bruce would want to know. It ended up turning into a big argument. In the end Bruce convinced him to break up with you.” She sighs once again looking at your confusion ridden face.

“I still don’t get it. Bruce loves me. Why wouldn’t he want Dick to marry me?” You question.

“What Dick does for a living is dangerous.”

“I’m fine with him being a cop, he knows that.”

“No, it’s not just that. What we all do for a living is dangerous. Bruce likes you, he does. At first, he didn’t think you and Dick would last so he never thought that your relationship would get to the point where Dick would have to tell you the truth, but Dick had other plans. So when Dick told him he wanted to marry you, well-“ She stops taking a deep breath, “Bruce knew that marrying you would mean Dick would have to tell you the truth. So he told Dick that the only way to keep you safe was to break it off and if he truly loved you he would set you free.”

“How is any of that your fault?” You ask.

“Well after Dick stormed away I followed him to convince him not to break up with you. But he wouldn’t budge. He believed it would be selfish to continue your relationship while putting you jeopardy. He sacrificed his own happiness for your safety. He said he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something ever happened to you. I knew he wouldn’t budge so I at least tried to get him to break up with you in person but he knew if he saw you he would never be able to do it. You called me after it happened Dick begged me not to tell me anything but here we are” She finishes with tears in her eyes.

“None of that is your fault, Babs.” You say as you pull her into a hug.

She chuckles dryly, “I’m the one who should be comforting you.”

You both laugh through the tears.

“I still have one question though. What does he do for a living?”

Barbara stops laughing and contemplates telling you. She eventually stares you in the eyes and says barley above a whisper “he’s nightwing”

Though you barley heard it, you’re eyes widened. Suddenly everything made sense. The late nights. The excessive bruises. The leaving dates early. It was like the final piece of the puzzle.

“Where is he?” You say though you already know the answer.

You get up from the couch, grab your keys and are almost out the door til you hear babs say “Y/n please don’t tell him I told you”

You stop for a moment and say, “Thank you Babs” and rush out the door.

•

“Dude I can’t believe you actually listened to the old man” Jason says.

“I don’t need your shit Jason.” Dick mumbles on the Wayne manor sofa.

“I’m just saying, you’re in love with her. Everyone can see that.”

“That’s why I had to!” Dick yells, standing up.

Jason stands back, seemly pushing Damian in front of him as if it’s his turn to talk some sense into Dick.

“What Todd is trying to say is, it’s absurd that you of all people would take Father’s advice about love seeing how miserable he is.” Damian states.

“Ya, Bruce doesn’t know shit about relationships, even I can see that” Duke chimes in from across the room, not even looking up from his book.

"You wanna know why he can't seem to keep a relationship? Because he lets his fear consume him." Tim says bluntly.

"Yeah take Tim for example isn't he dating a civilian? Benard? Nothing has happened to him" Jasons says.

"Well, I wouldn't say nothing" Tim replies.

"Shut up, I'm trying to make a point." Jason sighs, "He's not dead is he?"

"Yeah, Tim and Benard seem to be going strong," someone chimes in from the doorway.

That voice. Dick could recognize that voice anywhere. They all turn to look at you. Jason is the first one that turns back towards Dick.

"See y/n gets it." He shrugs

"Yeah, I do."

There is a moment of silence. The silence is so loud. The tension so thick. The boys seem to notice this and walk away. Jason gives Dick a look that reads, "Don't fuck this up, lover boy"

When the boys all leave the room, leaving you and Dick alone, you walk towards him. Dick's piercing blue eyes stare into yours. Almost questioning you, as to say "what are you doing here".

"You didn't really think I'd let you break up with me over text, did you?" You smile.

Dick can't help it, he smiles back. Even though it's silent, you both are saying a million words to each other. He can look into your eyes for eternity. He can't believe he broke up with you without getting to see those gorgeous eyes again. But as much as he wants to keep looking, he can't, he knows if he does, he'll come running back to you. He knows if he does that, he'll never see those pretty eyes again. The reality of the matter hits him. He breaks eye contact, turning away and crossing his arms, as a way to say "please leave". You however have other plans. You come closer to him barely an inch away from him. You take his face into your hands and turn his head towards you. He tightly closes his eyes.

"Dick, please look at me." You say.

"I can't," he whispers.

"Why?"

He sighs closing his eyes even tighter. "You know why."

You silently remove your hands from his face, sliding them down to his chest. You sigh, about to remove your hands completely until he untucks his arms and lightly grabs your wrists. He looks down, finally looking into your eyes.

"Please don't go yet," He says.

"Dick I need you to tell me the truth"

You search his eyes for a sign, anything at all. What you find is remorse.

"Y'know I love you" You say

"I know."

"Dick you can tell me anything"

He sighs, "You already know the truth"

"But I need to hear it from you"

He sighs again, this time deeper. He stares into your eyes almost pleading with you so he won't have to say it because if he does it makes all of this a reality. The harsh reality that he'll either have to love you from afar, or put you in jeopardy because of him. He'd rather stay here with you in complete bliss. As long as he's with you he's complete. He can't imagine you gone. Alive but gone or dead and gone. He wishes things were simpler. In another time or maybe another universe, he thinks.

"I'm Nightwing"

You burst you laughing. Making Dick confused, but he couldn't help but start chuckling with you.

"My fiance's Nightwing" You start singing.

When you eventually catch your breath, Dick seems to have an even more confused face.

"What?" You question.

"Fiance?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Well yeah but only if you want to be" You smile sheepishly.

Instead of replying Dick swoops you up and kisses you. Not like any other kiss you've had with him, it was one filled with passion. All of the love left unsaid was poured into the kiss. Any doubt that either of you had was solved. When you finally break apart, you two are panting resting your forehead on each other. Dick casually slips an engagement ring on your finger. To which you pull away to look at.

"Oh, Dick it's beautiful!" You gush.

"You have Babs to thank for that," He says pulling you in for another kiss.

You're the love of his life, and he's yours. You know what you're getting yourself into but ultimately you'd rather die having him by your side than not at all. As long as you're with him you've got a smile on your face.

#dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #bruce wayne #x reader #angst #dick grayson angst #hurt/comfort #dick grayson hurt/comfort #dick grayson fluff #duke thomas #jason todd #barbara gordon #tim drake #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson one shot

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be-my-ally · 2 years ago

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We can't go on together (with suspicious minds) fic. 1.

first post! i've been working on a mini series of these, where the reader confronts Elvis about his other girls and his reaction to being called out. I think we're going to go for a classic and name the series Suspicious Minds? This is the first, completely inspired by that phonecall with anita, and the story from priscilla about Elvis' reaction to her divorce request.

Pairing: Elvis/afab!reader (I imagine BDE but I think you could probs picture whatever era you like)

Summary: Reader is upset at being forced to watch Elvis constantly touching and kissing other girls - his solution? fuck her until she doesn't care anymore.

warnings: 18+, blowjobs, sex, demanding!Elvis, jealous!Elvis, possessive!elvis, idk yandere? maybe a little? slight dubcon, especially in the second half. tiniest breeding kink. arguing as foreplay, references/allusions to infidelity, mention of pregnancy. Reader is definitely being manipulated here. Elvis is not being nice.

wc: 5.7k (this was meant to be under 2k whoops) I kind of hate the last couple of lines but if I didn't decide I was done there this was gonna go on forever so there we are!

The fact that Elvis kisses forty girls a night is neither here nor there, they are indiscriminate from one another and don’t mean anything - you know that. He simply has to kiss as many girls that he finds unattractive as much as those that catch his eye; although whenever he argues this point you’re uncertain if he truly knows how to be unattracted to a girl of any kind. But you’ve so far taken it at face value - he was yours at the end of the night and you were in his bed, in his home, and honestly that’s all you cared about. You could let the other girls have their seven seconds with him.

You probably, at this point in your relationship, cared far too much about him but he made you feel like no-one else has ever done. You wonder sometimes if he even knows how love feels - or if he just truly has to be permanently in love to live, he says it so easily and freely. Regardless, you can’t help but believe him when he says he loves you. There’s just something about him, a strange magnetism or force that allows you to forgive and forget a lot more than you usually would. Constantly desperate for his approval when really he should be begging for yours. You’d beg him to pay attention, accuse him of being distant and he would somehow always turn it back onto you - “You’re just so damn needy,” and “I can’t just rush off to see you when you want, I’m a busy boy Darlin’,” until he became exasperated; “Lord, stop naggin’ me woman.” You accepted it, in a way you wouldn’t from anyone else - you simply argued your case as much as you could, hung up the phone, sobbed, and then ran to him gladly when he offered you any scrap of attention. Why didn’t he like you enough to listen if he claimed to love you?

It’s not the girls at the concerts you worry about, throwing themselves up at him, clawing at him - that display of unwomanly desire is as unattractive to him as can be, entertaining rather than arousing, and you know that for him it really is all about putting on a good, memorable show for the audience. It is as much a part of his stage personality and persona as his jumpsuits are; women and girls go to see Elvis expecting to come home kissed.

It’s the afterparty girls you find difficult. It’s when you see, from across the room or even from right beside them, his hand inching up their thigh; when their legs tangle together, or he pulls their feet on his wide spread thighs that you start to feel like its wrong. You mind it less if you’re not there to see it, and you can tell Elvis knows this too - judging from how often you’re sent home to Memphis, only called back to Vegas every few weeks. Whenever you talk on the phone you ask him about the other girls - if there are any, if there’s anyone special. He always denies it and reminds you over the phone that “I’ve only got eyes for you little darling.” But that “a man’s got needs mama” or even, “I’m a polite boy baby, I can’t just shove em offa me!” And you agree - he can’t exactly shove girls off of him, but maybe he could just…invite them over less?

But really who knows what else he is supposed to do. It’s not like there’s a precedent for this, nor is he likely to listen to your suggestions. So you accept it all, simply as part of the price of being allowed to maintain rotation in his orbit.

But still it’s hard. Especially when it’s been days since you last had the chance to really see him, or spend any time with him and he’s sat there lapping up the attention from these goddamn groupies like a sultan with his harem. You can’t help but go cold to his advances, giving him one word answers when he deigns to talk to you across the room. You can tell you’re annoying him, he hates to be publicly defied especially from one of his women - from his main woman, and you can tell he’s chewing his cheek by the clench of his jaw when you respond again in words of one syllable. As if to annoy you further you watch him shift in his seat, spreading his legs further apart, and laughing as he tips his head back in response to whatever blondie to the right of him says. It causes the fabric of his trousers to go taught, and his neck muscles tighten - veins appearing to tense. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and you close your eyes for a second. He’s unfairly attractive like this, in fact, he’s blinding to look at and you can’t help but shift your thighs together.

When you open them he’s staring back at you. You inadvertently make eye contact and he winks. You forget for a second you’re angry at him, and can’t stop the heat rising up you. But then you watch his arm flex around the girl to the left of him and you regain your senses, looking away with a flick of your hair. You count to a hundred, pretending to keep the conversation up with Jerry while you wait to glance over again. When you look over again he’s whispering in her ear, and you can’t help but glare. He seems to sense you, and looks over her cheek to you. He leans back and nods to his dressing room door. You purposefully ignore him, turning back once again to Jerry. A second later you can hear movement behind you and Elvis’ voice rises above the noise of the conversations around you; “I’m sorry sugar, but I’ve got some business to see to.” Your ears are attuned to him, and you have no idea what the conversation you’re in is anymore, listening to hear what this business was and trying to judge from the sounds what his movements are from behind your back. A second later you don’t have to try and guess as his hand touches your elbow,

“Come on now darlin’ lemme borrow you for a sec.” You look at his hand on your elbow and your eyes narrow at him, but he’s looking at you like he’s daring you to say something, playfully half expecting you to make a scene. But that’s not your style and he knows it. You flick your head back around to Jerry and Charlie and say,

“Sorry guys, the ‘King’ called.” You add a sarcastic edge to your words and playfully roll your eyes. You turn around to head towards his dressing room and jump as Elvis’ hand connects with your ass - propelling you forward, he walks you towards the door laughing as the boys behind continue their conversation as if you were never there.

You pull away from him as soon as you’re on the other side of the door and look at him affronted when he shuts the door with a definitive click and turns around, practically leering at you and rubbing himself over his trousers.

“Oh, you must be joking.” You scoff, you can’t deny you’re almost always turned on around him, but you do have some level of self respect.

“Come on now baby, don’t be like that, thought you’d wanna help me out?” He pleads, looking at you hopefully.

“That fuckin’ groupie gets you all riled up and i’ve gotta be the one to deal with it.” You roll your eyes again, crossing your arms over your chest. He frowns,

“Well - if it’s such a chore don’t fucking bother.” He shrugs, and looks down at himself, “I’ll just….deal with it myself.” He rubs again before untucking himself from his trousers - his cock jumps when it hits the slightly chilly air, and you can see his foreskin tighten a little in response. He licks his palm ready to get himself going but pauses before he touches himself. He looks down, looking like a kicked puppy, “Never thought you’d wanna leave me like this though little mama,” he touches himself once, twice, starting to peel back his foreskin from his head, “please baby, help me out?” He’s talking in that utterly stupid baby voice of his, and even before the question is fully out of his mouth you know you’re going to give in, that you can’t resist him.

He practically whimpers a further. “Please baby? Please!” and you know you’ve had it. You’re incapable of denying him any further. You move as if he’s got you on strings, dropping to your knees in front of him. You can feel your wetness start to form - the response to this position is pavlovian at this point. You nod once,

“Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.” He looks down at you and winks, starting to gather up your hair in his hands to hold it away from your neck and face. He brushes a finger down your cheek and taps it against your lips,

“As if you had a choice.” Despite the slightly sinister statement you can’t help but find his confidence endearing and you giggle, already feeling better now that he had you alone. Proof that he chose you.

He’s always gentle at first, allowing you to lap at him, tiny kitten licks as you gaze up. This time is no different, you feel like you’ve been there for half hour, although its probably closer to three or four minutes by the time he starts to insistently push his head against your lips. He lets you control the pace for the moment and you obediently bob up and down on him. He looks down at you, his lips are in a little pouty grimace, and his pupils enlarged so that the clear blue of his eyes is barely visible. He’s clearly losing the battle at staying hands off, and this is even more true when a moment later you feel his grip on your hair tighten. He pulls you further, causing you to choke slightly before you adjust to the deeper motion and it doesn’t take long before he’s completely controlling the pace and depth.

He speeds up, his eyes slightly manic as he thrusts forward, fucking into your mouth even deeper and remaining deeper to match his quicker timing. He drops your hair and with one hand he holds the back of your head, while the other creeps around your shoulders and neck to rest on the base of your throat, his fingers gently wrapping around. He pulls you all the way off, and a trail of drool connects you before you lick your lips, his precum and your spit mixing into a bitter tasting foam. He nods at you and you take a deep breath, allowing him to pull you forward once more. You hollow your cheeks, and use all the techniques you have, swirling your tongue and humming, and it doesn’t take long before he’s pulling you tighter, harder and quicker, and after that barely any time at all his hips stutter and he’s releasing down your throat, his fingers stroking where he can feel you gulping it down.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

He leaves you there, he’s normally very generous - but today he doesn’t even order you to touch yourself. It feels like he’s proving a point, that he gives you what you get. That you’re no different to him using the other girls who get him hard. There just for him to use you, get off. You feel frustrated, and hurt, and a tiny bit like a groupie or whore yourself. But, then he’s sweet as can be the next day - showing you off to reporters, planning a trip to Hawaii together and while you still feel slight unease at how you’ve been treated, you otherwise quickly forgive and forget.

——-

There’s a party at Graceland tonight, you’ve barely seen him and you huff as you fetch yourself another drink. He’s ‘holding court’ in the music room, playing to other’s requests when you head back to the kitchen. By the time you return he’s sat on that impossibly long sofa laughing and talking with the boys and girls on either side of him and mingling around the room. There’s nowhere for you to sit and you consider the floor for a second - but quickly realise that the place that puts you out of the way of people would put you directly at his feet. You hope he looks over at you, pushes the girl off who’s sat next to him to make room for you. But he doesn’t - instead you watch him lean over to whisper in her ear. You’re openly staring from the doorway now, as he cups her cheek and pulls her in for a kiss.. There’s raucous laughter in response from everyone else, and from the angle - when he opens his eyes mid-kiss - you make eye contact. He doesn’t even flinch when he notices you. He pulls back and pats the top of her head, she grins - clearly satisfied with herself - and he heaves himself up. Whether to go to you, or just to head out of the room in general you don’t know - by the time he’s stood up you’ve stormed out.

You take a few deep breaths in the slightly chilly outside air, and walk far enough away that you can look back upon the house. It’s shimmering slightly from the heat within, the windows are steamed up from the volume of people and you can see little plumes of smoke from the sheer number of cigarettes and cigars being consumed escaping into the night whenever the door gets open and closed. You’re not sure why it’s getting to you so much, but it’s like he’s trying to prove a point at the moment and you just have to accept it or find your limit. You can’t help but let a few tears escape, it’s humiliating, to be treated like that in Vegas or on the road is bad enough but in your own home is almost too much to bear. But maybe that’s the point - it’s not yours really, it’s his and you’re not your own person anymore, you’re his. You stand out there until you can feel a chill setting in and head back inside, slipping upstairs and past the groups of people without saying goodbye, and climbing into bed.

You don’t sleep, on edge waiting for him to come up, but you do feel yourself drowsing. When he does come up he ignores your body in bed in favour of the ensuite and by the time he reappears in his pyjamas you’re drowsing again. He slides in behind you and you almost inaudibly huff as he drapes an arm over your midriff, tucking a leg over yours. You huff louder, and pull away, turning around from him to face the other side of the bed. He tries to push up your nightgown and stroke your back but you reach your arm around to bat his hand away, you’re certainly not in the mood tonight. Not after his behaviour. “No Elvis. Not tonight. Not after you’ve had those girls all over you.” He pulls away and huffs.

“Come on darling, you’re being a bitch.” You roll over and pretend to be asleep. He ignores you.

The next morning you wake up and he’s gone but in his place, on his side of the bed, is a huge box. This isn’t rare - he often bought you presents, or left you clothing to be worn and normally you loved it. It wasn’t even because of the materialism of being bought the pretty things - the dresses and the jewellery; the shoes and the lingerie but rather the possession of it. Owning things he picked out for you with every expectation that you would, of course, be wearing it when he next saw you. Normally this gave you a thrill - he didn’t even need to write it on a note anymore. It was just understood that you would, when such a box appeared, be bedecked in an outfit that would loudly proclaim you as histo those in the know, if not the world. His flashy, expensive but very specific fashionable and feminine style obvious to everyone who knows him. You peek inside the box to see a flash of green sparkly knit fabric and a red jewellery box resting on top, undoubtedly containing something absurdly over the top and expensive that he expects to see you in. Not this time though. This time the dress can stay in the fucking box it arrived in and you’re going to wear your jeans and a top you bought all on your lonesome. You’re not even going to look at whats in the red box. You feel outraged that he thinks you’d simply forgive and forget his behaviour the night before because he bought you a present. It's even more humiliating than being so publicly embarrassed; the implication that you can be bought so easily.

You storm out of the bedroom once you’re dressed and your hair is brushed - it’s not styled, which would usually irk you (and him) but you’re honestly too riled up to care. The time for calm is over and you feel like you’ve been pushed to the edge too many times now. You burst into the den, the door slamming open, furious that you feel so out of control. So unlike yourself.

“El you can’t treat me like dirt and then try to buy me off.” He’s cut off in the middle of a take of a song. You can hear the recorder still whirring - that’s going on the tape forever. You’ll make them destroy this copy later, (or Elvis himself will you’re sure) he’s obsessive about keeping everything possible but its unlikely he’d want evidence of his lack of control of you here. The boys all turn to stare, their instruments faltering to a halt and Elvis spins around, before he’s even facing you you can tell he’s utterly furious. He’s practically shaking.

“-Get the fuck outta here!” He roars, pointing at the door; “fuckin’ hell what do you think you’re playing at?” he tugs at his hair in frustration and you cross your arms. If you leave now and he doesn’t follow you’ll lose what nerve you have. You can only imagine how you’d end up regretting your outburst, simpering apologies to him later if you left now.

“No.” You actually stamp a foot, and your brain is going fifty miles a second trying to regain your dignity, “No Elvis I won’t. I want you to listen to me.” He puffs out a short breath and starts to stalk towards you. Charlie puts his hand out onto his forearm, perhaps anticipating that with his temper and fury so high he might do something he’d later regret. But he’s unwilling to physically hold him back, and Elvis simply shakes his head at him and shrugs him off instead rushing forward and clutching the top of your arm.

“Turn that recording off!” He shouts as you struggle against him pulling you towards the door.

“Elvis! Let me go! Let go of me!” He uses your momentum of your struggle against him to almost trip you over, catching you across the waist and lifting you bodily out of the room. You continue to struggle, thrashing about in his arms as he lifts you up the stairs into the kitchen. He practically drops you when you reach the empty room and you attempt to jump away from him but he holds you steady with that same grip on your upper arm, swapping over to hold your wrist. He practically growls at you;

“Let’s go baby.” He drags you upstairs to his bedroom, despite your protestations, and slams the door behind himself.

“I ain’t about to have it out with you with all the boys lookin’ on in, like I can’t control my goddamn woman.” He leans in to sharply whisper at you and you laugh cruelly, finally managing to pull away.

“Maybe thats because you don’t have a woman to control Elvis. I ain’t been your woman in a long time! How can I be if you’re away all the time doing god knows what with god knows who! Or even being here and doing it!” His chest is heaving as he takes in your outburst. He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Little girl, I’m not having the same argument with you twenty times over. We’ve already had this discussion and you’re really turning me the fuck up about it. I’ve got needs. I don’t know what you want me to say mama.” He’s clearly annoyed, but still trying to come across earnest - as if he doesn’t understand what’s angered you so much.

“I want you to say that you actually give a damn Elvis. That you give a damn about me. About how I feel about it. About how if you promise me there ain’t another girl that there ain’t another girl that the boys are whispering about.” He rolls his eyes at you.

“You’re not around all the time baby; I don’t know what you want me to say to you - I love you. That should be enough; why isn’t it enough for you? There ain’t no one I’d rather be with, it just ain’t always possible mama.” You absolutely can’t stand the glow that you immediately feel as he professes his love for you and it spikes your anger once again - since it comes attached to absolutely no attempt to deny his sheer infidelity.

“Well, you’re not around either, and it’s not a choice I make to not be there for you. Maybe I should do like you do - after all ain’t a woman got needs too?” You placed your hand on your hips, chest heaving at the volume you’d not realised you’d reached.

“Don’t you dare lil’ girl, I told you there wasn’t anyone else. Don’t threaten me like that. You won’t like what you get back.” He tuts and shakes his head, and you’ve no idea where your sudden boldness comes from;

“What? Afraid I’ll like them more?”

He roars at you, throwing himself at you, pulling your hands up. He shoves his lips on yours and you have no choice but to acquiesce to his tongue’s insistent demands that you open your mouth. He growls against your neck;

“I’m gonna make you see right now. Gotta show you, you belong to me lil mama. To me.” He pushes you down to your knees and it barely occurs to you to struggle. He’s gathering your hair in his hands - pulling it away from your face as you realise the argument’s clearly made him hard - the bulge in his trousers evident from your close angle. He pulls your head back with his grip on your hair and his other hand trails down your cheek to your neck, his fingers stretching around it. Just a presence there. You look up at him with wide eyes and a flushed face and he stares down at you.

“You’re gonna ‘pologise to me for messin’ with my work. And for accusing me of all that shit and you’re gonna do it right now.” Your mind is gone, his eyes somehow holding you captive and all you can do is nod. “Right then, get little Elvis out baby and get to it.” He nods down at you and you quickly grasp his meaning, your fingers shaking as you fumble through unbuttoning his trousers. He is, like usual, not wearing any boxers so there’s no other fabric barrier that you have to get to before you’re able to pull his cock out. He pulls you by your ponytail and you immediately kiss the head, licking the tip and down in long stripes. He allows this for a moment before taking the hand from around your throat to slap his dick against your cheek - before insistently nudging it against your lips. The moment it’s in your mouth he pulls you down on him, barely giving you time to catch your breath. He’s rougher than he usually is right from the start and it's a struggle to keep up.

You’re a mess of day old mascara and tears from your eyes watering, and spit and drool when he pulls out. Pulling you off of him entirely. He crouches in front of you and wipes at your face with his thumbs on each cheek before he pushes you backwards, although he supports your fall back with a hand under your neck - lowering you completely to the floor. He moves quickly to unbutton your jeans, tugging them down impatiently. It doesn’t occur to you to struggle, and while a little part of your brain is shouting at you to stop being stupid, that you’re losing the argument, that this wasn’t what you wanted to happen, a larger part can’t get over how good he looks in this moment - nor the anticipation of what you’re sure is going to be some pretty spectacular sex. “I hate you in these, baby.” You smile. That’s why you wore them.

“Oh,” He smirks back at you. “I get it. Tryin’ to prove a point huh?” He grasps the legs as they unroll past your ankles and yanks. You hear the tearing as they split straight down the seam. “Point made Darlin.” He’s infuriating. He pushes your panties to the side and circles your clit, rubbing down before pushing into the pooling wetness. He slides in one finger, and it slips straight in so he immediately pulls it out to add a second. He pumps them a couple of times, crooking his finger in just the right spot to make you jump around him, your hips grinding of their own accord. You whine when he pulls them out, shoving them into your mouth and he drags you back closer to him. His other hand steadying his dick and he slips his other out of your mouth to better support his body. He pushes in, you’re wet as anything but barely stretched and you can feel every inch of him as he pushes into you. He stills for a second as he bottoms out, and you shiver around him. He looks back at you, his eyes blazing and his hair flopping forward, out from where it was so carefully slicked back. He’s still mostly dressed and it feels so wrong to be able to feel his slacks and open shirt resting against your naked skin but you forget all about this when he pulls you almost all the way off and slams you back down. He thrusts like this once, twice and the noises that come out of your mouth are obscene, your eyes rolling back. “That’s r-right my t-t-tight lil woman,” he stills for a second to kiss you and you clutch at his shoulders for balance as you try to get closer to him. He tugs at your lip before working his way down, sucking onto your collarbone. The heat is building in you, and you can feel it in your thighs, your pulse jumping, but his slow rocking motion isn’t enough to get you properly close;

“El-Elvis, baby, baby, need you, need you to move.” You stutter out and feel his smirk against your neck. He then, if you didn’t know better, seems to lose control - his hips rocking in his signature way, as he fucks into you rapidly back and forth.

His bedroom carpet is plush and expensive but still isn’t particularly comfortable to be rocked against as your t-shirt rolls up but he seems completely uncaring to the comfort of your skin being rubbed raw, focussed on his fingers getting you off and fucking into you as deep as he can get. You claw into the carpet as he makes your back arch in pleasure as he pulls away and drags you back onto him. You can feel the bruises forming in the shape of his fingertips on your hips.

He’s out of breath with the exertion of the act and you can feel the sweat and heat coming off of him, as he thrusts so deeply it makes you choke as your head rocks forward. He lets out a breathless huff of laughter in response;

“That’s right darlin’ gonna make you feel it.” You moan, and he continues, “Only way to get it through that thick skull of yours is fucking it into you.” He slams into you, and you shake as the words and his motions push you over the cliff. He continues talking but you can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears, and the noises coming out of your own mouth as you ride out the wave - his fingers and cock moving in the exact same way to coax you through it. He removes his hand and you feel like you can breathe again as you feel everything pulse around your core. He grips your thighs, “No-one else could fuck you like this, make you take it like this.” He punctuates his point with a rotation of his hips, pushing into you as much as he can - deeply rocking you, and you can feel his head knocking against your walls. You tremble, overstimulated from your brief orgasm a moment ago but still on the edge, “You think anyone else could make you feel like this?”

You rapidly shake your head, stuttering out a response, “No, no, nn-o.” He lets out a breathy, tiny gruff chuckle,

“No you’re damn right baby. They couldn’t.” You moan, can’t help yourself and you feel him jump inside you,

“Gonna knock you up darling, gonna make you mine forever.” and his hips stutter as you feel the pulse of his cum inside. You’re shocked at his announcement, but you feel yourself twitch in response and he goes to touch you again, feeling where the two of you join, his cock still inside, sliding his fingers up and down, and that’s apparently enough to send you over the edge again. When you come to he’s slipping his cock out of you, although he remains leaning over you to talk in your ear;

“You interrupt me workin’ again doll, with shit like this, and you’re out. You understand me girlie?” You nod again, it’s like you’ve been struck cock dumb - you can barely even remember what you were annoyed with him about. He rubs your stomach and places a light kiss on your neck, he murmurs against your skin; “You can’t be jealous if I’ve given you somethin’ no one else has.” He pulls away from you and redresses himself - well, pulls up his trousers and rebuttons his shirt. You lie there, panting, on the floor feeling his seed trickle out of you. He holds out a hand to you and it seems to take a lot of effort to take it, but you grasp his hand and he pulls you up in one tug. He holds you close and kisses you hard on the mouth, “Put your present on,“ he glances to the box on the bed, and you nod, “Knocked some goddamn sense into ya now, haven’t I.” He declares it proudly, satisfied that you seem to be meek in agreement with him, and you smile back at him unable to even deny that his fucking you has caused you to agree with him. You turn away from him to head into the bathroom, clean yourself up a little and you can finally talk again as you go, your voice scratchy, “Don’t worry Elvis baby, I ain’t all amped up still.” You can practically feel him smile.

“That’s good, honey, that’s real good.” He pauses, “If you can behave yourself you can come and join us, if you like, after you get yourself touched up.” You’re inspecting yourself in the mirror, responding with forced casualness,

“Course!” As you assess your body, still flushed and littered with tiny bruises, you crane around to look at your back and wince at the carpet burn evident there. You shake your head, what a ridiculous thing to have done, when the bed was right there. You hear him leave and take a shaky breath in - how are you gonna sort your hair from this clearly debauched state. You glance down, looking at his fingerprints on your hips and sides, and consider your stomach for a moment. You wonder if he truly has, in his anger, joined you together for eternity. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but on every other occasion he’s ensured you’ve taken every precaution, short of abortion. Should you douche? You jump suddenly as you hear him sprinting back into the room, as if he could hear your thoughts he bursts into the bathroom.

“Forgot to say mama,” He pauses and jabs his pointer finger at you, “you let that baby stick. It’s the only way to prove it to you. You let it be.” You start to protest,

“Honey, sweetheart, do you…do you really think we should be doing this? That we should?”

“You sayin’ you don’t want my baby, Sugar?” You lock eyes with him in the mirror and rapidly shake your head,

“No-no-no! No! Elvis, No! Of course I do! I just, is this the way it should be done?” He laughs,

“I don’t see how it makes the slightest bit of difference, we’ll have to go again, later, make sure - don’t see how we can tell which does the trick. Just that it’s done.” You turn to look at him properly,

“We-ell ok then Elvie baby, let’s do it.”

Later that night, when you’re sat watching a girl practically climb into his lap you feel a surge of pride - he glances over at you and winks - and you think, that's right have him for the second, but I’ve got what you really want; him all the time and his baby in my belly.

#elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfiction

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