#Mug Custom Company | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

m454d1e · 22 days

Text

sakusa kiyoomi who has a crush on you !

involves : fluff , sakusa is soft , reader is a barista , mentions of marriage.

sakusa kiyoomi hated crowds, which is how he found solace in this small cat cafe he discovered when exploring in the quiet lanes of tokyo city. he liked how it would always have less than a dozen people in the building at once, he liked the soft rock music which would play through the speakers. it was a nice place for some needed rest and relaxation after his physically demanding volleyball training.

sakusa kiyoomi who noticed you the first time he walked in, how your head would snap towards the door when you heard the door ring, how delighted you were to serve him, and how careful and tedious your latte art was. he thought you were cute, it was endearing watching someone so engaged in making cat pictures with cocoa powder and coffee foam on his drink.

sakusa kiyoomi liked sitting on a booth with a small cat keeping him company, warmth curled on his lap as he gently stroked the fur when he occasionally stopped typing. he’d be working efficiently, deeply entranced by the words on his screen until he feels a small paw at his chest, then he’ll stop for a good five minutes to play with the white animal.

sakusa kiyoomi who could muster a somewhat wistful expression when he decided that he’d go to your cafe after training that day, motoya teasing him would earn a scowl off his inexpressive face, “is it about a girl?” motoya would ask, leaning against his cousin as the black haired boy would reply, “shut up, it’s none of your business” but the blush and pout would give it away, and motoya would giggle at him for the rest of practice.

sakusa kiyoomi who realised you were too shy to start a conversation with him like you did your other customers, meaning that he’d have to talk to you first, which was different, but he didn’t mind the change, in fact, he was increasingly becoming more curious about the life that you led and how it parallelled his. how you were the same age but ended up in completely different positions, you with an after-school job and his relentless commitment to his sport, he liked how wide your eyes got when he explained how he was one of the best in your age division, feelings of pride would wash over him every time.

sakusa kiyoomi who started to admire the small features which framed your face which he didn’t notice before. how your cheekbones sat under your eyes, or the curvature of your nose when you brought your mug up to your lips. there was something captivating about the cupids bow, the dusty pink colour which you’d smear lip gloss over every couple of minutes. he wanted to reach and gently rub his fingers on your skin, cleaning up all the places where it fell out of the boarder.

sakusa kiyoomi who, when learning your name, would repeat it in his mind every once in a while. testing out the syllables on his tongue every so often, it was obvious that he couldn’t get you out of his mind. he’d think about how you’d feed the cafe’s cats every once in a while, offering them small pats right before you washed your hands. he thought that people who respected animals were good people, and that was evident through your actions.

sakusa kiyoomi who invited you to sit with him at his booth when your shift ended, seeing you in your normal clothes was something unfamiliar to him, how the black jumper dwarfed your body as you typed away on your phone, letting an older orange cat stretch on your lap.

sakusa kiyoomi who’d nudge you, and embarrassingly ask for your instagram. “i’d like some way to contact you, if possible” he’d mutter, his pretty face flushed dark red as he fiddled with his phone, tension leaving his back when you smiled up at him, “okay! here’s my instagram!” you’d reply happily, taking his phone and typing your username into it, he’d try to wipe his small smile, but to no avail as he sat there with a dorky expression on his face.

sakusa kiyoomi who didn’t expect you to message him often, but he was so eternally grateful that you did. the days which used to drag on, filled with quiet time was now replaced with your tumultuous presence, how you’d tell him everything about your day in full detail, and he in return. you formed a small relationship which kiyoomi was unfamiliar, he wasn’t used to the way his heart would beat faster when you messaged him, or when you’d excitedly wave when you watched him walk into the cafe.

sakusa kiyoomi who was still a boy in all the ways that counted. sure, the way that he spoke made him sound grown up, and the way he looked portrayed him as this stoic and serious high schooler, but his feelings for you made him realise again that he was only 17. just a single look in his direction and he’d be folding in on himself, trying to keep up his facade, but you knew it wasn’t really working anymore.

sakusa kiyoomi who confessed his feelings to you after a long 4 months of attraction (he was concerned because of all these dating rules like 'three month rule' and he didn't wanna rush it and potentially ruining his chances with you).

you felt the tension in your back as you took off your yellow apron and folded it neatly, tucking it into your bag before sliding it over your shoulder and walking into the main dining room to see kiyoomi.

“you look tired,” he comments, eyes flickering from you to the laptop in front of him as you settled in the booth. his fingers wrapped around the handle of his mug as he kept his attention on the video on screen, “you shouldn’t work too often if you’re getting exhausted like this.”

“i am tired.” you mumble, rubbing your face and smudging your eye make up in the process, “going to school at like 7:45, then coming here and working from 4-6 is so outrageous” you sigh dramatically, letting a brown cat nuzzle against your palm as you complained. “it’s so annoying”, sakusa would chuckle before replying.

“i’ll walk you home then, if you’re so exhausted.” he hums gently, bringing the mug up to his lips and looking down at you as you laid your head on the table, he smirked gently, placing his palm on the curvature of your head and gently rubbing his fingers through your hair, “you’re cute” he mutters under his breath,

“what was that?”

“nothing” you raise your eyebrows suspiciously, but drop the conversation.

“alright omi” you side eye him, “also yeah, taking me home would be great, thank you”

he found himself with interlocked fingers as you walked alongside him to your family apartment, it was dead silent. he was focusing on the way his hand dwarfed yours, how he could feel your warmth through his fingertips, and he wanted more. he wanted to pull you into his arms and rub all the tightness from your back, he wanted to hold you while you slept, he wanted to do all those stupid, romantic things he’d normally frown upon with you.

“hey yn?” he asks, stopping suddenly to your confusion.

“yeah omi? what’s up?” he loved the way his nick name would fall off your tongue.

“have you ever been in love?”

“in love?” you hum thoughtfully, “i think i’ve really liked someone before, but not really loved them” you nod. “what about you, have you ever been in love?” you look up at him, expecting his answer.

“yeah, i think i’m in love with you”

sakusa kiyoomi who asked you out in the most sakusa kiyoomi way. straight to the point and with no room for confusion. he was building himself up for the dejection of your soft explanation of why you didn’t like him back, but he definitely didn’t expect how you walked up to him and gently wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your head against his chest.

sakusa kiyoomi who would gently press his lips against your almost every minute now, wanting to soak in your affection if it was the last thing he’d do. he was so in love with you to the point where he’d let anyone on his team tease him just so he could talk about you more. you were the only thing on his mind, he’d drag you to all his games and hold you when he won, telling you how he played for you, seeking comfort when he lost, nuzzling his head into the side of his neck like one of your cats..

sakusa kiyoomi who knew you were gorgeous, but you were entirely something else during your marriage. he cried when you walked down the aisle, seeing you linked arms with another as you looked at him meekly. you were breathtaking, with your hair neatly pulled back and your make up done to perfection, but don’t let him get started on that dress because it would take me another paragraph.

sakusa kiyoomi who swore on his life that he’d never let you go, he’d provide you with everything you needed and support you through any career choice that you’d choose, because he’d go through anything just to feel you in his arms every night.

sakusa kiyoomi who never thought he’d be able to experience love, there was so much about him that he found unloveable. but you, you and everything that you brought into his boring life would change him for the better, the walls he’d spent years building would come crumbling down at your gentle touch, and he’d find himself lost in your warmth.

! please consider liking, reblogging or following if you enjoyed :3

ajsdfhkjsdhk pls read my smau its called charm because i like clairo

#m454d1e-ramble #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyu fluff

852 notes · View notes

elryuse · 2 months

Text

The Story Of, How A Cafe Worker Wins The Heart Of A Superstar

Wonyoung X Male Reader

Tags : Idol Wonyoung, Cafe Worker Male Reader, Fell in love at first sight, Kiss, Strangers to Lover, Fluff, Full of emotion

The cafe bell chimed a familiar melody as the door swung open, announcing the arrival of a new customer. Busy with wiping down a table, I momentarily glanced up, my breath catching in my throat. A girl, shrouded in a white bucket hat and a mask, stood awkwardly by the entrance.

"Hi there! Welcome to Sunray Cafe," I greeted warmly, my usual chipper self shining through. "What can I get you today?"

The girl, her eyes sparkling even beneath the mask, approached the counter. "Can I get a large Americano, please? With no sugar, and maybe less ice?" Her voice was soft, melodic, like a gentle stream tinkling over smooth pebbles.

"Absolutely! Coming right up!" I punched in her order on the register, a thrill shooting through me. Today was definitely turning out interesting. As I busied myself brewing her coffee, I stole another glance at her. There was a certain aura about her, an ethereal quality that made her stand out even amongst the usual cafe crowd.

"Here you go," I announced, placing the steaming cup on the counter. "One large Americano, no sugar, less ice. Just the way you like it, I presume?"

A hint of a smile played on her lips, barely visible beneath the mask. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

The silence stretched for a moment, filled with an unspoken awkwardness. I yearned to strike up a conversation, to get to know the girl behind the mask, but something held me back. Perhaps it was the air of mystery surrounding her, or maybe just a touch of shyness on my part.

She settled down at a corner table, the clinking of her spoon against the ceramic mug the only sound for a while. I watched her from afar, mesmerized by the way her gloved fingers cradled the cup, how her eyes sparkled with an unseen emotion as she sipped her coffee.

As the cafe slowly filled with the afternoon crowd, I found myself drawn to her table again and again. Each time, our eyes would meet for a brief moment, a silent exchange that sent a flutter to my heart. Who was this girl? What was her story? I couldn't help but wonder.

Days turned into weeks, and the cafe slowly became synonymous with Wonyoung's presence. Every afternoon, like clockwork, she'd walk in, a vision in white with her signature Americano order. Each time, a wave of exhilaration would wash over me. We'd fallen into a comfortable routine – our exchanges started with greetings, then brief conversations about the weather or the latest K-Pop releases.

One sunny afternoon, as I placed her usual cup on the counter, I mustered up the courage to ask, "The Americano with no sugar, less ice – is that your favorite, or just a habit?"

A soft laugh, like wind chimes on a summer breeze, escaped her lips. "A bit of both, I guess. But honestly, it's more about the company now." Her words sent a jolt of joy through me. Was she implying...?

"Really? You like coming here just for the company?" I couldn't help the hopeful lilt in my voice.

She met my gaze, her eyes sparkling with an emotion I couldn't decipher. "The coffee's not bad either," she admitted with a playful smile. "But yes, the company is definitely a perk."

Emboldened by her words, I took a chance. "Actually, my name is Y/n," I blurted out, feeling a bit flustered. "W-what about you? I keep seeing the name 'Won' written on your cup."

A hint of surprise flickered in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a soft smile. "Won is fine," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

As she turned to leave, I blurted out, "Wait!" She paused, her back to me. "Can I, uh... walk you home?" My cheeks burned with a blush, but I held her gaze.

To my surprise, she didn't refuse. Instead, she turned around, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Sure," she said simply. "That sounds nice."

As we walked side by side, the setting sun casting an orange glow on our path, I felt a lightness in my step, a joy that resonated deep within me. We talked about everything and nothing – our dreams, our favorite foods, the stray cat that frequented the back alley of the cafe. It felt effortless, comfortable, like we'd known each other for years.

When we reached her doorstep, the air crackled with a nervous energy. "Today was nice, Y/n," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Would you like to do it again sometime?" I asked, hope flickering in my chest.

A genuine smile bloomed on her face, as radiant as the sun that had just dipped below the horizon. "I'd like that," she replied, taking out her phone. "Here, put your number in."

As I entered my contact information, her phone vibrated. Glancing at the screen, I noticed she saved my number under the name "Sunray Cafe." A pang of disappointment shot through me, a silent acknowledgement of the distance between our worlds.

But then, she added a single emoji – a bright yellow sun – beside my name. The small gesture sent a warmth blooming in my chest, a promise of sunshine and happiness to come. "I'll call you, Won," I said, my voice filled with newfound determination. "And I'll make you happy, I promise."

She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "We'll see about that, Sunray Cafe." With a final wave, she disappeared into her apartment building, leaving me with a heart full of hope and the promise of a future filled with sunshine, coffee, and maybe, just maybe, a love story blooming amidst the aromatic warmth of the cafe.

The following afternoon, butterflies danced a frenetic jig in my stomach as Won walked into the cafe. Today, I had a surprise planned. Mustering up all my courage, I approached her as she placed her usual order.

"Hey, Won," I greeted, my voice a touch shaky. "So, I was wondering..." I hesitated, searching for the right words. "Would you like to go out on a date with me sometime?"

Her eyes widened beneath the mask, a flicker of surprise giving way to a hesitant smile. "A date?" she echoed, her voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah," I blurted out, my cheeks burning. "Just to, you know, hang out outside of the cafe."

To my utter delight, she didn't say no. In fact, a hint of a blush seemed to color her cheeks, hidden beneath the white mask. "I'd... I'd like that," she replied softly.

We set a date for the weekend, and the anticipation gnawed at me for days. Finally, the day arrived, and I found myself waiting for her at a park, a bouquet of sunflowers – her favorite – clutched nervously in my hand.

When she arrived, my breath hitched. Even in casual clothes and the ever-present mask, she looked radiant. Today, however, there was a certain spring in her step, a shy smile playing on her lips.

"Hey," I said, extending the flowers towards her.

Her smile widened as she accepted the bouquet. "Thank you, Y/n. These are beautiful."

The afternoon unfolded like a dream. We strolled through the park, the scent of summer flowers filling the air. We talked about everything and nothing – our dreams, our favorite movies, the stray cat that frequented the back alley of the cafe. Her laughter, a melody tinkling in the summer breeze, sent shivers down my spine. There was a comfortable ease about our conversation, a sense of connection that transcended the barrier of the mask.

Later, we decided to catch a movie. As we sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the dimly lit cinema, a thrill coursed through me. Stealing a glance at her, I noticed her eyes glued to the screen, tears glistening in them during a particularly emotional scene. In that moment, I felt a surge of protectiveness towards her, a desire to shield her from any harm.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the city, I suggested a final stop – Sunray Cafe. The familiarity of the place brought a smile to both our faces.

"Welcome back," I said, ushering her in.

The cafe was bustling with customers, but a corner table by the window was miraculously free. I settled Won into the seat, her eyes sparkling as she took in the familiar surroundings.

"This place feels different somehow," she remarked, tilting her head.

"Because you're here with me," I replied impulsively, my cheeks burning with a blush.

She met my gaze for a long moment, a blush creeping up her neck despite the mask. Then, she smiled, a shy, sweet smile that sent my heart into overdrive.

"I'm glad I am," she whispered.

I ordered her usual Americano, this time with a hint of caramel syrup, hoping to surprise her. As I placed the cup on the table, I blurted out, "There's something I've been wanting to ask you."

She looked up, her eyes curious. "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, I said, "Won, would you ever consider taking off your mask?"

A flicker of vulnerability crossed her features, a silent plea in her eyes. Then, she shook her head gently. "Not yet, Y/n. Maybe someday."

Disappointment tugged at my heart, but seeing the unspoken emotions in her eyes, I understood. This wasn't the right time to push her.

Taking her hand in mine, I squeezed it gently. "Okay," I said softly. "Whenever you're ready."

A warm smile bloomed on her face, chasing away the shadows in her eyes. "Thank you, Y/n. For understanding."

We spent the rest of the evening talking, sipping our coffee, and simply enjoying each other's company. As we walked out of the cafe hand-in-hand, the night sky ablaze with stars, I knew this was just the beginning of something special. The mask might have hidden her face, but it couldn't hide the connection we shared, a connection forged over cups of coffee, shared dreams, and stolen glances under the summer sun.

The next day, A sudden jolt of electricity shot through me as the cafe door chimed, announcing a new arrival. But it wasn't just any customer. It was Won, but this time, there was another man by her side.

He was tall and impeccably dressed, but his aura was cold, his expression unreadable. He held himself stiffly, a stark contrast to Won's usual radiant presence. Even with the mask on, I could sense the tension radiating from her, a silent plea for help I couldn't quite understand.

The man approached the counter, his voice devoid of warmth. "Black coffee, hot. No sugar, and a side of rock sugar."

The odd combination sent a shiver down my spine, but I nodded curtly, professionalism overriding my growing unease. As I brewed the coffee, I stole a glance at Won. Her eyes darted around the cafe nervously, avoiding mine altogether.

When I placed the order on the counter, the man picked up the cup and took a long sip. His face contorted in disgust. He then reached for the rock sugar, a single, unrefined cube, and popped it into his mouth before taking another sip of the coffee. He grimaced again, then let out a heavy sigh.

"Looks like the merger will have to be expedited," he said to Won, his voice laced with a coldness that sent chills down my spine. "Your father called. He needs a faster turnaround on the debt settlement."

Won's mask seemed to shrink around her face, her shoulders slumping in defeat. But amidst the fear in her eyes, there was a flicker of defiance. "Marriage?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The man nodded curtly. "That's what your father wants. Apparently, a public display of unity will appease the investors."

A suffocating silence descended upon us. The man seemed oblivious to the turmoil brewing within Won, his gaze fixed on his now lukewarm coffee. But I knew something was terribly wrong. This marriage, this entire situation, felt forced, a business deal masquerading as love.

The man finally set down his cup, his gaze snapping towards Won. "Who is he?" he demanded, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "The one you truly care about."

The air crackled with tension, the question hanging heavy in the air. My heart pounded in my chest, a drumbeat against my ribs. Won's eyes met mine for a fleeting moment, a silent plea for understanding, for help. And in that shared look, everything hung in the balance.

Unable to bear the suffocating tension any longer, I took a deep breath and approached their table, my voice firm but calm. "Excuse me," I said, forcing a smile, "but could you please keep it down? There are other customers here trying to enjoy their coffee."

The cold man's icy gaze snapped towards me, his expression hardening further. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his coffee, the clink of the cup against the saucer the only sound for a moment.

"A lowlife like you wouldn't understand professionalism," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but I could easily buy this entire cafe and kick you out on the street."

A surge of anger flared within me, but I fought it down. This wasn't about me. It was about Won, about the fear and helplessness etched on her face.

"Professionalism isn't about money," I countered, my voice steady despite the tremor in my heart. "It's about respect. Respect for your partner, respect for others around you."

The man scoffed, a humorless sound. "Partners? Don't make me laugh. This is a business arrangement, nothing more." His gaze flickered to Won, his voice softening a touch. "Isn't that right, darling?"

Won remained silent, her eyes downcast. My heart ached for her, for the unspoken words trapped behind the mask.

The man seemed to take her silence as agreement. He flashed a cold smile in my direction, his parting words laced with a veiled threat. "Consider yourself warned, kid. Don't get in the way of things you don't understand. I won't let her be taken that easily." With that, he rose from his seat, leaving Won and me alone in a tense silence.

As the cafe door chimed shut behind him, the weight of his words settled heavily upon us. Won's shoulders slumped further, and for a moment, I thought she might crumble. But then, she lifted her head, a flicker of determination replacing the fear in her eyes.

"Y/n," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "We need to talk."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden surge of hope that bloomed in my chest. This wasn't just fear in her eyes anymore – it was a spark, a defiance against the future that had been thrust upon her.

Before I could respond, she surprised me by reaching out. Her gloved hand cupped my cheek, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. My breath hitched as she leaned in closer, the mask a barrier between us yet somehow insignificant in the face of the raw emotion in her eyes.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper against my lips. "For everything."

Then, in a move that stole my breath away, she leaned forward and kissed me. It wasn't the soft, sweet kiss I'd dreamt of. It was a fleeting touch, a soft brush of cotton from her white mask against mine, yet it held a universe of unspoken emotions. The taste of coffee and something uniquely hers lingered on the fabric as she pulled away, a blush creeping up her cheeks despite the mask.

"I... I need to go," she stammered, her voice flustered. "But this isn't over. Not by a long shot."

With that, she turned and hurried out of the cafe, leaving me standing there in a daze. My hand flew to my lips, the warmth of her touch still tingling on my skin. The kiss was a promise, a declaration whispered against the storm brewing in her life.

Hope, a fragile thing, blossomed in my chest. Won might be trapped, but she wasn't defeated. And neither was I. We had each other, a connection forged over stolen glances and shared dreams. Together, we would find a way. The road ahead might be difficult, but with the faint memory of her touch and the soft brush of cotton from her mask against my lips, I knew I wouldn't face it alone.

A year had crawled by, each day a monotonous echo of the last. The cafe, once a haven for stolen glances and whispered dreams, now felt hollow without Won's presence. I wiped down the counter with a practiced efficiency, a ghost of a smile clinging to my lips. The memory of our date – the sunflowers, the movie, the shared coffee – played on repeat in my mind, a bittersweet reminder of a happiness that felt like a lifetime ago.

Just as I was about to flick off the neon "Open" sign, a soft rapping sound startled me. A figure stood hesitantly on the other side of the glass door, the setting sun casting a golden glow around them. My heart lurched in my chest – could it be…?

With trembling hands, I unlocked the door. A wave of relief washed over me as I saw Won, her ever-present white mask the only thing obscuring her face. But this time, there was a different glint in her eyes, a mix of determination and something else – nervousness?

Before I could even formulate a greeting, she was in my arms, clinging to me like a lifeline. "Y/n," she choked out, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry."

Tears welled up in my eyes, spilling over as I held her close. "Won," I croaked, my voice hoarse. "I thought… I thought I lost you."

She pulled back slightly, cupping my face in her gloved hands. Her eyes, filled with a newfound fire, held my gaze. "Never," she whispered fiercely. "That awful man… It turned out he was a corrupt business owner. My dad cut ties with him, but it caused a huge fight with my parents. In the end, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to choose my own path."

A smile, hesitant but genuine, bloomed on her face as she slowly began to untie the straps of her mask. My breath hitched in my throat. For all this time, the girl who filled my days with sunshine had been Jang Wonyoung, the K-Pop idol I adored.

As the mask fell away, revealing the breathtaking beauty I'd only glimpsed in dreams, a blush flooded my cheeks. Her eyes, sparkling with mischief, met mine. "Now you know why I always hid behind the mask, huh?"

A nervous laugh escaped my lips. "If anyone saw you in this cafe, the whole place would explode!"

We both burst into laughter, the tension dissolving into a comfortable warmth that felt like coming home. Wonyoung cupped my cheeks once again, her touch sending shivers down my spine. "It took me a whole year, Sunray Cafe," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere."

A surge of joy filled me as I leaned in, closing the distance between us. Our kiss was tender, a promise whispered on the wind. "I'm all yours, Wonyoung," I murmured against her lips.

The future stretched before us, uncertain yet filled with possibilities. We had a fight on our hands, the challenge of keeping our love a secret amidst the glare of the spotlight. But together, with the shared warmth of a stolen kiss and a year of yearning, we were ready to face anything. The cafe, once a symbol of lonely longing, was now bathed in the golden glow of a new dawn, the start of a beautiful love story between a barista and his superstar.

The End

512 notes · View notes

undreaming-fanfiction · 2 years

Text

Eddie hated this and he'd just started.

See, he was so proud when he made it, when he got his first office job. He saw what decades of physical labor did to Wayne's back, his hands, and he wanted to make his uncle proud. So he kept applying and applying and getting ignored and rejected and finally, finally he got a job in a pretty large corporate. Not exactly something prestigious, but hey, it had potential. The experience counted and all that.

He thought maybe workplaces would be different, that the good ol' high school dynamic would fuck off, but no. He was sitting at his desk, trying to fill in paperwork after a taxing phone call, but all he could focus on was whispering from the neighboring cubicle that was ostentatiously loud. He didn't know who sat there yet, the guy had been on vacation for the two weeks Eddie was in the company. From the stuff he was hearing, he was getting introduced anyway and not exactly the way he'd have liked to be.

"Can you believe they actually let him work here?" It was Carol, of course it was, the office gossip and mean girl knockoff. "I mean, he doesn't even look decent! Did you see that hair?" Okay, that hurt. He actually pulled his hair into a neat bun every morning, but you can't please some people. "And he has tattoos, what would our customers think if they actually met him, plus you should have heard the rumors about his past-!"

But just as he was about to slam down the pile of paperwork and either take an extended smoke break or gently ask Carol to go fuck a polar bear, he heard another voice. Bored and wonderfully bitchy.

"That's absolutely fascinating, Carol. Please tell me more, what could this guy possibly have done? It must be something juicy. Did he perhaps fuck his boss during the Christmas party and then lie about it to his boyfriend of five years? Oh wait no. That was you. Silly me."

Eddie had to bite his pencil to stay quiet, but his whole chest hurt by trying to keep the snickering in. And then the offended gasp. "I- you promised you wouldn't-!"

"I didn't promise shit, Carol. You just came to me, cried your eyes out - bad move by the way, invest in some waterproof mascara for god's sake, mascara in wrinkles doesn't good on anyone, and yes, you do have wrinkles - and tried to play the victim. Except I heard your small proposition to the guy before so it didn't really work out. But it's fine, you know," and oooh, the tone was smug, so bored, Eddie loved this guy already, "Tommy saw you as well and had a good time with Nicole to get even. So there's nothing to worry about. Now tell me, what did this horrible Eddie Munson do to summon wrath of such a righteous woman such as yourself?"

Eddie heard a sharp sound as Carol got up from the desk. "Fuck you, Steve Harrington," she spat out and sped past Eddie's seat. He just gave her a small salute.

When the sound of high heels faded, Eddie leaned over the cubicle wall and knocked to draw the guy's attention. And yeah, maybe he was a little bit biased because he'd just obliterated a textbook definition of a shrew, but this Steve was fucking gorgeous, light brown eyes looking at him, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh hi," said Steve and offered his hand, shaking Eddie's. "Sorry for that. I'm Steve Harrington and whatever deepest, darkest secrets you're hiding, I don't care, I'm pretty sure I've heard them all. What did you do? Shave your head in school? Join a cult? Cut dolls apart and chant hail Satan?"

That had Eddie laughing again, but he still had an introduction to make. A proper one. "Nice to meet you, Steve. Eddie Munson, and I'm worse than your darkest nightmares. I sometimes wear socks in sandals."

Steve's eyebrow twitched. "Oh, Carol was right, you are a monster!" he muttered. "Speaking of monsters..." His head leaned to the side, towards Carol who was angrily carrying her coffee mug, her mascara running again.

Before he could catch himself, Eddie leaned over the wall and whispered as loudly as he could muster. "Can you believe some people wear dotted dresses with stripes on their stockings? We can't all be born with taste, I guess...tragic."

And again, maybe Eddie was just biased, but Steve's laughter was so pretty that it actually made dealing with Carol's bullshit worth it.

#steddie #steddie au #steddie drabble #corporate au #coworkers au #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things drabble #yeah so I'm crazy busy and kind of not doing too well #so this is not proofread #but I wanted to put something small together so here you go

3K notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 11 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Summary: June brings the end of Harris's preschool career and the official beginning of your new life as a family of three--with a little help from your friends, of course.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), p in v, mentions of phone sex, grief and loss

WC: 7.8k

Chapter 20/20

A/N: With the official end of Trapped Under Ice, I am now opening up requests in the TUI universe. Thank you all for taking this journey with me as I processed my own grief. As long as you keep requesting, I will continue writing for our little family 💚

Thank you to @rip-quizilla for making that scene stronger. Ily, bb.

Divider credit to @saradika

The diner is bustling with customers, happily chatting over stacks of pancakes and overstuffed omelets. Coffee carafes clink against chipped mugs as the waitstaff pours refill after refill.

You weave through the rows of tables, careful not to bump into servers balancing trays of food or busboys carrying the used dishes and silverware. A small yellow gift bag is clutched in your hand, and you hold it to your chest to protect its fragile contents.

Harris spots you before you can see him; his little arm shoots up from where he’s tucked into the booth next to Wayne.

“Ms. Sweetheart!” he frantically waves, his grin wide enough to stretch off of his cheeks. “Over here!”

You laugh, watching as Eddie scoots from the middle of the seat to the end, making room for you to sit down. There are two steaming cups on his side of the table, centered on little saucers that are likely older than you are.

“Morning, baby,” he greets you with a smile, leaning in to give you a small kiss—no tongue, of course—as you slide in next to him. “You sleep okay last night?”

You nod sheepishly, remembering the phone conversation the two of you had had, well after Harris fell asleep. Eddie’s sultry voice had guided you through touching yourself; the next-best thing to having his own fingers inside you.

“Wish I could be there right now,” he’d murmured into the receiver, so low that you could barely hear him. The faint sound of his own fly being lowered punctuated his words. “Wanna make you feel so good, Sweetheart, but I know you’re being a good girl f’me tonight, aren’t you?”

You bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping to blame the heat creeping up your face on the drink, and take a hearty sip. It’s a little sweet, but mostly bitter. Just how you like it.

The crinkling tissue paper as you lean back in the booth draws your attention to your company and away from your indulgent memories. “Happy Father’s Day, Eddie,” you kiss him on the cheek, your lipstick tinting his stubble pink. “This is from me and Harris. Be careful with it.” There’s a deliberate vagueness in your warning, not wanting to spoil the surprise.

Eddie cocks his brow, clearly not expecting any sort of present from you. Shocking, considering you’d taken Harris to the Paint-n-Play on Wednesday during your usual tutoring session time, and you’d figured he would have spilled the beans as soon as he and his dad had a moment alone. He rustles around the bag with dramatic flourish, trying to build anticipation but only succeeding in testing Harris’s patience.

“Open it, Daddy! Open it!” Harris bounces up and down in his seat, mouth sticky and teeth tinted purple with grape juice as he urges Eddie to stop dragging out the process. Wayne discreetly places his palm behind his grandson’s scalp, protecting his head in case he rocks too far back. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart did it together!”

“You did, huh?” Eddie chuckles, pulling out a ceramic mug. It’s painted sky blue, and Harris had insisted on making purple polka dots, splotchy as he’d haphazardly dunked the brush in paint and pressed it to the plaster. Written in bright orange blocky letters is DAD; you’d helped him sound out duhh-ahhh-duhh, his little tongue poking out in complete concentration. Your only visible contribution is the tiny green 1997 painted along the handle, marking the first year you’d celebrated Father’s Day together.

The multitude of complementary colors and mismatched designs should clash. The dots look more like disfigured spiders than circles. The 7 you’d carefully written with a fine-tipped brush is slightly smudged from where Harris had picked up the mug before it had fully dried, and there’s an extra curving line extending from the first D in DAD after he’d started writing the letter backwards.

To Eddie, it’s perfect.

“I love it.” Brown eyes find his son’s hopeful gaze that eagerly awaits his father’s reaction. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.” He places the mug on the table next to the coffee-filled one in front of him, tipping its contents into his gift. A few drops dribble down the side, but most of it ends up where it should. A success, in his opinion. He takes a hearty gulp, not caring that the hot liquid singes his taste buds. “Is this magic?” He holds the mug up to his face, studying it like it’s a precious stone. “Because, I swear, it makes this coffee taste better.”

The little boy beams, exchanging an elated glance with you. “Ms. Sweetheart, did you put magic in it?”

Eddie chimes in before you can respond. “I bet she did. She’s sneaky with it; always sprinkling it where you least expect.” His empty hand finds your thigh underneath the table, silently claiming it as his own. “I don’t know how she does it,” he muses wistfully, adding another sugar packet to the mug and swirling it with a spoon until it’s dissolved. Like it was always part of the coffee from the jump.

“Speaking of presents,” Wayne chimes in, unearthing a tiny, newspaper-wrapped package from his jacket pocket and handing it to his nephew. “‘S, not much, but it’s a Father’s-Day-slash-housewarming gift for ya.”

“I thought we agreed on no gifts,” Eddie shakes his head, suddenly self-conscious about arriving empty-handed.

“Well, I lied.”

Wayne watches as Eddie tears into the paper. Whatever home run or double-header had made the front page of the sports section is irrelevant compared to the mystery item that is snugly tucked between baseball stats and the upcoming game schedule.

A small gasp leaves his mouth as he unwraps a wallet-sized picture frame; the word family is etched into the wood right above the plastic-protected photo.

It’s from Harris’s bowling party; the one Wayne had taken of you and Eddie on either side of the birthday boy. Happiness radiates off of the three of you with such intensity that it seems impossible for it to be captured in a still frame. He’d forgotten that Wayne had even snapped it.

“Wayne, I…” Eddie struggles to find the words he needs to properly convey his feelings. The tip of his nose burns with the anticipated influx of emotions. “I’m gonna put it right next to my alarm clock, so it’s the first thing I see every morning.”

You lay your head on his shoulder, the edge of his lips finding your forehead in a half-kiss. He soaks in the comfort you bring, absorbing it through every pore as he exhales and feels himself relax.

The waitress comes over with a notepad and a smile. “You folks ready to order?” She clicks her pen, poised to jot down what the four of you want to eat.

“Chicken fingers, please!” Harris announces, perching up on his knees and leaning his elbows on the table. “With French fries!”

The waitress, whose name tag reads Bee, offers a sympathetic smile and a soft click of her tongue. “I’m sorry, buddy. We don’t start serving lunch until 11:30.”

The boy’s lower lip quivers at the news, having his heart set on eating his favorite food. You can see his perfectly curated routine begin to crumble, taking his excitement with it. “But…but I even said ‘please!’” he insists, voice cracking.

You step in quickly, wanting to salvage the Father’s Day celebration before Hurricane Harris can brew up a storm. “Hey, Har, I know you’re disappointed about the chicken fingers, but I have a super special idea.”

“Wh-What?” Misty eyes indicate that tears still threaten to spill over his lashes.

“When Grandma used to take me to the diner, we used to split silver dollars. They’re pancakes, just smaller.” You take a deep breath and smile, hoping and praying that your plan works. “Would you like to share some silver dollars with me? And we can come back and get chicken fingers another time.”

Harris considers your proposition, rubbing his hands together along his knuckles to soothe himself. Finally, he says, “Can we eat them with syrup?”

“That sounds delicious.” You lean over and ruffle his hair, careful not to let any loose strands land on the table. “You wanna tell the waitress?”

“Mmkay,” he nods, turning to Bee and smiling. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart are gonna have the, um, little pancakes.” He frowns, unable to remember the dish’s name. “The dollars?”

Bee laughs and nods, jotting it on her notepad. “An order of silver dollar pancakes, coming right up. And for you gentlemen?” She brings her attention to Eddie and Wayne.

The older man clears his throat, ordering a Western omelet with home fries and rye toast. Eddie asks for the same but with white bread. “And a refill on the coffee,” he adds.

Bee promises to be back shortly with the food, and the four of you resume your conversation.

“We’ll get to take a new picture next week at someone’s graduation,” you say with a smile, looking in Harris’s direction. “Are you excited, Har Bear?”

Harris takes another messy sip of grape juice. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna go to kindergarten soon! But first is summer.”

“Summer first, then kindergarten,” you agree, sipping your coffee before it gets cold. You’re no stranger to it, often setting down your to-go cup at work and forgetting about it until well after morning circle time, but you relish any chance you get to enjoy it while it’s still warm. “I was thinking: once you and Daddy are all moved in, we should make plans for this summer. Like the zoo, or the pool…”

“Yeah!” Harris claps his hands together and grins. “Or Disney World!”

Eddie’s ears perk up at his son’s suggestion. “Not this year, but maybe soon.” If he can continue moving up the ranks at the record store, coupled with the two of you splitting rent, it might even happen next year, but he doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t guarantee he’ll keep. “And we’ll drag Grampa Wayne with us.”

Wayne responds with a shake of his head. “You’re outta your mind if you think I’m goin’ on any of those roller coasters.”

“You’re gonna sit and ride It’s a Small World the whole day?” Eddie teases, leaning back in his seat.

“Damn straight.”

The food comes out ten minutes later, steaming plates carefully placed on the table. You cut the silver dollar pancakes into bite-size pieces, pushing half to the side nearest Harris and the other half closest to you. A glass syrup carafe waits to be used, its handle sticky with residue.

“Say when,” you tell Harris, drizzling it back and forth across the plate. He waits until the pancakes are drenched before stopping you.

You watch as he uses his fork to spear some pancake, pops it in his mouth, and chews thoughtfully. “It’s yummy!” he declares triumphantly, already scanning the plate for his next piece. “This is my favorite food ever!”

You, Eddie, and Wayne share smiles; none of you take his declaration too seriously, knowing he changes his favorite anythings on an hourly basis. Still, a win is a win, and avoiding a chicken finger-induced tantrum is no small feat.

Eddie spreads a pat of butter over his toast, but his eyes never shift from you and Harris sharing breakfast. You’d asked him whether he prefers blueberries or chocolate chips in his pancakes, and the discussion quickly devolved into a competition to see who could come up with the grossest pancake addition.

“How about…” Harris wiggles his nose, “broccoli pancakes?”

“Ew!” You stick out your tongue in disgust. “That was a good one, but I think I can top it. Would you eat…” you tap your chin in contemplation, “fish stick pancakes!”

Harris squeals, far from an inside voice, but no one wants to correct him. “That’s super yucky! Fish stick pancakes?!”

Eddie smiles, tucking into his own food. He wants to savor the joy, the warmth. The twinkle in Wayne’s eyes, the upturned corners of Harris’s lips, the trill of your laugh. He wishes he could capture the feeling, but a mental image will have to do.

He inhales and allows himself to be wrapped in the unconditional love he had once convinced himself he didn’t want nor deserve.

The Hawkins Preschool cafeteria has once again been transformed. The custodians folded the long tables, propping them against the wall, and set up rows of folding chairs, leaving a small aisle for the graduates’ families to find their seats.

Other parents stare as Eddie walks in, perspiration prickling under his arms as he hears them whispering about the kid who ran away. It’s audible enough for Wayne to hear; he rests his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and gives it a small squeeze before they take their seats.

Jeff and Dustin arrive a few moments later, noticing Eddie and Wayne in the small crowd and shuffling over. Eddie pulls them each in for a quick hug, and Wayne does the same.

“Glad we made it,” Dustin says with a sigh of relief. “My flight got delayed half an hour, but we made up the time in the air.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “It didn’t help that we had to stop at a payphone so you could call your precious Suzie-Poo,” he huffs, but there’s a glimmer of a smile on his lips, proud of the way his friend cares so deeply for his partner. “Anyway, we’re here now.” He takes a seat next to Wayne, shifting so he can speak to Eddie. “Is Harris excited to graduate?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head at the recent memory of his son prancing around the apartment that morning in his cap and gown, small body drowning in the flowing green fabric. In that instant, Eddie could picture him as a young man, crossing a much larger stage to receive his diploma from Hawkins High. If Higgins is still the principal, Eddie might have to teach Harris the family tradition of flipping him off.

Sue Sinclair makes her way up the small staircase to the podium, adjusting the microphone so she speaks into it easily. “Good morning, parents, siblings, and other special guests. Welcome to Hawkins Preschool’s Moving Up ceremony.” She beams, holding for applause. Eddie eases back into his seat; he’s known Principal Sinclair for years, since Lucas had joined Hellfire, and she’d recently stepped up to take over teaching Harris’s class for the remaining weeks of the school year. After the little boy had given his statement to the police, Marion and Paula’s teaching licenses had been immediately terminated, and negligence charges were currently pending.

“Before we get started, I’d just like to make an announcement.” Sue Sinclair looks over to where your class is standing, patiently waiting their turn to receive their sticker-laden diplomas. “I am pleased to announce that our very own Mr. Will Byers,” she extends her hand in Will’s direction, “will be our newest head teacher starting this fall.”

Though everyone in attendance is clapping, it’s obvious that Eddie, Wayne, Jeff, and Dustin cheer the loudest. Will blushes red, unused to being the center of attention, but the smile on his face shows how excited he is to take on this new role. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and pull him in for a proud hug.

“Our students have worked incredibly hard this year, learning their letters, numbers, and how to be a good friend,” the principal continues. “And though we will miss them dearly, we are thrilled to send them off to kindergarten with these new skills. So, without further ado, let’s bring out our graduates!”

The ceremony begins, starting with your class. You stand at one end of the stage, sending each student off to where Will is waiting at the other end as Principal Sinclair reads out each of their names. They take their certificates and pose with baby teeth on full display while their parents snap photos from disposable Kodaks and bulky Nikons. All the seemingly endless days, the menial fights over sharing toys; every moment was worth it if it led to this.

You usher the kids to their seats in the front row after your final student’s name is called, spotting Eddie in the crowd as you sit down. He winks, the corner of his eye mischievously crinkling. You smile, taking full advantage of the other parents’ distractedness and give him a little wave; the exchange a private love letter.

Both of you bring your attention back to the stage when Sue Sinclair calls up the next class. Harris stands towards the center of the line, excitement buzzing through him at a rate that cannot be contained. He rocks from the balls of his feet to his heels, back and forth as he awaits his turn. His brown ringlets poke out from underneath his cap, grazing just above his eyebrows.

Principal Sinclair pauses, looking directly at Eddie when she speaks. She understands the gravity of this accomplishment, her lipsticked smile reaching her eyes as she leans in towards the microphone.

“Harris Munson!”

Eddie jumps up, hollering as loud as his vocal cords will allow. Harris accepts his diploma and smiles wide, both at his accomplishment and at the sound of his dad cheering him on. His expression further brightens when he sees Wayne, Dustin, and Jeff beside him, and he waves while jumping up and down.

He’s supposed to walk from stage left to stage right, just as all the students before him have done; in typical Harris fashion, he takes the road less traveled. With a mighty leap, he catapults himself off of the stage and makes a beeline straight for you.

Two little arms wrap themselves around you, squeezing you as tight as they can. The brim of his cap is flush against your cheek. “I did it, Ms. Sweetheart!” His words carry a lightheartedness that only a child’s joy can bring. “Did you see?” He picks his head up from where it was nestled against you and giggles, dimpled chin brushing your bicep.

You tilt the mortarboard slightly upward and press a kiss to his forehead. “I saw, Har,” you tell him, using your thumb to wipe away your lipstick print, “and I am so, so proud of you.” Readjusting his cap, you usher him over to where the rest of his class is standing, a garden of happiness blooming within you.

You look back at where Eddie is sitting, wishing you could sit next to him, fingers laced together while his thumb caresses the side of your hand and grasping your hand tighter when Harris’s name is called. For now, it’s enough to know that you’ll be by his side throughout all of Harris’s future endeavors and accomplishments. A team.

Eddie’s palms press into his slack-covered thighs as he peers over at you and grins. Bright, adoring eyes meet yours, speaking every thought that his mouth can’t say right now. I love you. Thank you. We couldn’t have done this without you.

You accept the wordless praise with a smile, one that reaches beyond its usual confines.

Dustin notices the small exchange, and he nudges Eddie’s ribs with his elbow. “She’s the one, huh?” He cocks his eyebrow knowingly.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie murmurs, no longer paying any attention to the remaining names being read aloud. “You ever think you’d see the day I settle down?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an ounce of insecurity behind them.

To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin nods without hesitation. “Always knew you would.” Carol Perkins shushes him from the row ahead, but he just flips her off and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you remember that time in high school when we got sloshed—sorry, Wayne,” Jeff cuts in sheepishly, “and you went on a rant about how you secretly wanted the whole wife, kids, picket fence deal?”

“And I believe I threatened to kick your ass if you told anyone,” Eddie points out, embarrassment turning his face red, apparent even under the light stubble covering his cheeks.

Wayne chuckles softly. “I already knew. About the dream and the booze.” He laughs a bit harder at Jeff and Eddie’s shocked expressions. “If you keep replacing vodka with water, eventually, it’s all just water.”

“Ya don’t say.” Dustin’s sarcasm bleeds through his whisper.

Principal Sinclair reads the last student’s name with the same enthusiasm she’s given all of the other kids. “I now present to you, the Hawkins Preschool class of 1997!” She mimes tossing a cap in the air, the students’ cue to do the same.

The fervor of the cheers and applause could shake the cafeteria. Whistles pierce the air and reverberate off of the walls, none louder than Wayne Munson’s. You stand up, smoothing the pleats of your dress to soak in the achievement of completing another academic year; for you, this one in a brand new school with more challenges than you’d cared to endure.

You and Will take in the sight of nine cherubic faces looking up at you in admiration, though they’re beginning to shed their baby fat. This was certainly a journey, and you couldn’t have asked for a better teaching assistant to walk beside you through it all.

“I’m gonna miss you next year,” you say, squeezing him in a tight hug.

“I’ll be right down the hall!”

Begrudgingly, you let go of him, not losing the pout on your lips. “That’s way too far for me.” The two of you both know that you’re serious; it won’t be the same without having him in the classroom with you. “Can we try to match up our breaks and eat lunch together?”

“It’s a date,” Will laughs, then juts out his chin to motion behind you, “but it looks like I might have some competition.”

Before you can turn around, Eddie’s arms wrap around your waist. He tugs you in close so your back is flush against his chest, the buttons from his shirt pressing into your spine. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, lips so close that they brush the lobe. “Are you ready to start your summer?”

You kiss his cheek, adjusting your stance so you can walk hand in hand to get Harris. He torpedoes himself into Eddie’s stomach, shrieking with laughter as he’s lifted into the air.

“Har Bear, you’re a preschool graduate!” Eddie smacks a kiss to his son’s temple. “How should we celebrate, hmm? Ice cream? Chuck E. Cheese?”

“Ice cream!” Harris decides easily. “I’m gonna get cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles and—Uncle Dusty!” He squirms out of Eddie’s grasp and races over to Dustin.

“What? I’m not an ice cream topping!” Dustin teases, crouching down to ruffle Harris’s curls, matted to his scalp from being hidden underneath the cap.

Harris giggles. “You’re so silly!” He glances back and forth from him to you, and you realize he doesn’t know that you’d met in March at Will’s birthday party. “Uncle Dusty, this is Ms. Sweetheart. She’s my almost-mommy.”

“Ohh,” Dustin replies with a smirk, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “I think she needs to be your dad’s almost-wife first–”

“All right! Ice cream time!” Eddie hurries to cut him off, glaring at Dustin for bringing the idea to Harris’s attention again; he has constantly been hounding him about marriage ever since he found out about his newest living arrangements. The idea of marrying you, however, eases his tension and has a smile tugging on his lips; a slight switch in expression that his uncle spots easily.

Wayne’s gruff whisper is in Eddie’s ear. “Sounds like it’s time for an almost-proposal.”

“Shut up!”

“I think that’s the last of them!” Jeff calls out, lugging the final cardboard box from his car into your apartment. He wipes his hands on his jeans and closes the door behind him, careful not to wake up his sleeping daughter in Viv’s arms. He looks over at where you, Robin, and Jess have begun unpacking, laying Eddie’s clothes in one pile and Harris’s much smaller clothes in another.

Jeff places a kiss on the crown of Viv’s head, then plants an identical one on Ettie’s. “Where are the guys?”

“Harris’s room,” you say; bittersweet taste tinging the new label. It feels better than Grandma’s old room, but part of it will always belong to her. You hear Harris giggle as Eddie and Dustin re-assemble his racecar bed, spreading warmth that gently softens the sadness until it resembles sentimentality. “I’ll come with you; I have to put this away, anyway.” You grab the pile of Harris’s clothes and tuck it under your arm.

Eddie and Dustin sit on the floor, rogue screws spread around them as they intently study their project.

“I think this piece,” Dustin muses, picking up one of the sides of the frame, “connects with this one like that…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, it’s the other way around.” He takes the screwdriver and twists the metal into the slot triumphantly. Your breath catches in your throat as his bicep flexes with the motion, perfectly displayed where his t-shirt sleeve had been cut into a makeshift tank top. “There we go.” He looks up and realizes you’re there, perfectly still as you watch him. “Hey, Sweetheart. Y’good?” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye; though it was inadvertent, he knows what he’s doing to you.

You only nod, the movement dragging you out of your momentary stupor. He chuckles as you place Harris’s shirts and pants in the dresser, fingers clumsily slipping over the knobs. It’s the same unicorn-covered dresser that had sent Harris into hysterics a few weeks ago, but you’d painted over it before he could see. It’s now a dark navy blue, no evidence of what once lay beneath.

Eddie’s amused by your reaction and subsequent embarrassment, running his tongue over his teeth and chuckling to himself, but his victory is short-lived.

“Hey, Casanova,” Dustin’s exasperated voice cuts in, pointing to the section Eddie just assembled, “you put the piece on upside down.”

Harris crinkles his nose. “What’s Casanova?”

Eddie buries his head in his hands as Dustin scrambles to explain. “It means your dad is trying to show off his handyman skills for your almost-mommy.” He winks in Eddie’s direction before leaning in and exaggeratedly whispering in Harris’s ear, “but he’s not doing a very good job.”

As soon as Harris distracts himself with setting up his toys, Eddie is saluting his friend with a quick flip of his middle finger.

You crouch down, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Don’t worry; I’m very impressed.” He blushes when you kiss his cheek. “Your uncle’s going to be here with dinner in a few minutes, if you burly men want to wash up.”

Eddie nods, turning to his friends and his son and speaking in a deep baritone. “You heard the woman! Let us refuel so we may regain our strength for hunting and other masculine activities.”

Harris’s brows pinch together in further confusion while you and Dustin share an eyeroll, but the three of you follow your fearless leader out of the room. Eddie lets the two of them pass and waits for you, sliding a coy hand in your back pocket and murmuring against your hair. “Man and woman make fire in bedroom later?” He continues using the deepened voice.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s…that’s not a no, though, right?”

The summer sun is still high in the sky when Wayne arrives at the apartment, three pizza boxes still warm in his palms. He’s barely able to put them on the table before Harris is racing towards him, ready to give a full report of the goings-on of his day.

Jess sits at the table, baby Ettie laying in her arms while she gives Viv a break and feeds her from a bottle. You place a piece of pizza on the paper plate in front of her, and one in front of Robin, who adoringly watches her girlfriend dote on a baby. Wayne sits in the third seat, thanking you with his kind smile as you pass him a slice.

You join Eddie and Harris on the couch; Jeff plops down in the La-Z-Boy on the other side of the coffee table, motioning for Viv to sit atop his legs, while Dustin has seemingly been relegated to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Uncle Dusty, come sit next to me!” Harris chirps, nearly knocking your plate out of your hand as he bounces onto your lap. His curls tickle your chin as he leans over to take a bite of his dinner, dragging the cheese halfway off of the crust before Eddie holds it in place.

Dustin obliges, squishing in next to you with an apologetic laugh, but you don’t mind. Dialogue melds together, with people seamlessly leaping from one conversation to another. Robin poses the question of what everyone thinks Ettie’s first word will be, which prompts Wayne to tell the story about how Eddie tried so hard to get Harris to say dada, only for the boy to scream out “SHIT!” in the middle of Bradley’s Big Buy.

Jeff looks across the room at his tiny daughter. “Please don’t let that be your first word,” he jokingly begs her, picking a greasy pepperoni piece from his slice and dropping it in his mouth. While he’s preoccupied, Viv steals a bite of the crust.

“Are you all going to the July 4th carnival next week?” Eddie asks through a cheesy mouthful.

Everyone except Dustin answers in the affirmative. “Flying back home tomorrow,” he says, a round of booing from the group forcing him to pause mid-statement, “but Suzie and I are—hey, not cool!” He swats at a crumpled napkin that Eddie lobs at his head. “Suzie and I are going to try and visit for my mom’s birthday in August,” he finishes with a pointed look.

Harris tilts his head back so you can see straight into his flared nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart, you’re coming to the carnival with us, right?”

“Of course! What rides are we gonna go on?” you ask, his little feet kicking at your calves as joy flows through his body.

“The Ferris Wheel! Me an’ Daddy always go on that, an’ now you can come with us!”

He and Eddie always go on the Ferris Wheel. It’s a tradition that they share, and now they’re allowing you in. Now you’re part of it.

You smile, kissing his forehead in a celebration of belonging and delight. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” you agree. “Do you think Daddy will play the games and win a prize for us?”

Eddie groans at your suggestion. “Those booths are all rigged. Every last one of ‘em.”

“I dunno,” Jess says teasingly, wiping Ettie’s chin with a cloth bib, “I won a stuffed animal from the whack-a-mole last year—”

“Oh, yeah! And I beat the Test Your Strength one,” Jeff adds slyly, getting a rise out of proving Eddie wrong.

Eddie throws his voice to a falsetto, mocking his friend’s words. “I beat the Test Your Strength one,” he echoes nasally, chuckling when Jeff scoops up the napkin previously thrown at Dustin and hurls it towards Eddie.

The rest of the evening continues like this, silly banter and recalled stories that end up being cut short or watered down for the impressionable ears listening in. It’s love in its many forms: between partners, between parents and their children, between friends. Each peal of laughter, each shared smile, each memory made adds to its foundation; brick by brick, layer by layer.

The pink hues of sunset darken to indigo and eventually settle into a night sky, the moon shining brightly and unobscured by clouds. Eddie, Jeff, and Dustin finally manage to put the race car bed back together—and just in time. Harris’s yawns become more frequent until he can no longer fight sleep, dozing off with his cheek pressed against your chest. Soft snores leave his slightly agape mouth.

“I feel the same way,” Wayne jokes, standing up from his chair and stretching his back with a grimace. “It’s been a long day.”

The group nods in agreement, quietly gathering their belongings and saying good-bye.

“Thank you all for helping today,” you say, handing out hugs while keeping Harris sound asleep. He stirs but doesn’t fully wake up, even with all of the commotion. “We really appreciate it.”

Eddie seconds your sentiment. “It means a lot to us. We know we owe you a lot more than just dinner—”

“You guys are family,” Viv interrupts with a smile, gently rocking a sleeping Ettie in her arms. “This is what family does.”

A calloused hand rests on your shoulder from behind the couch; you lean your head on Eddie’s forearm and give it a small kiss. The delicate hairs brush against your lips, and you relax into his touch.

Your guests file out, already making plans to meet up at the carnival. Eddie closes the door behind them, insisting that he can beat Jeff at the Test Your Strength and demanding that his friend buy him a funnel cake when he does.

There’s a soft murmuring coming from Harris’s room, and Eddie walks as quietly as he can. He watches silently, shoulder pressed against the doorframe, as you place his son’s head onto the pillow. The crisp sheet is draped over his sleeping body, followed by the Buzz Lightyear comforter you’d bought at Kmart especially for him. Harris stirs for a moment to grab onto the blankets, tugging them to his chin and scrunching up his legs to assume a cozier position. He lets out a content sigh and slips back into his dream.

“Good night, kiddo,” you whisper, kissing his mop of curls. You look around the room, so different from when it belonged to Grandma. It seems larger, his race car bed taking up much less space than her queen-size bed did. A Lego set lies where her shoe rack once stood. The top of his dresser is covered in Hot Wheels, rather than the makeup and jewelry that Grandma had on hers.

But it’s a good kind of different, one that comes with the natural ebb and flow of life. It brings inevitable change, and it’s your choice whether to embrace it or run away.

“You’re a natural at this bedtime thing, y’know.” Eddie’s voice, low and soft, places you back in the moment. He holds his arms out for you to nestle into them, holding you as close as he can. His thumb caresses your shoulder blade. “It normally takes a couple of stories, half a dozen pee breaks, and a horse tranquilizer to get him down.”

“I think being completely exhausted from moving helped,” you laugh into his chest. “And I’m right there with him. Man and woman might have to postpone their fire-making.”

Eddie’s chuckle vibrates against you. “Yeah, it wouldn’t be my best performance. Wanna make this one really good, since it’s a special occasion and everything.” He closes Harris’s door and leads you to the bedroom you two now share. “We gotta christen this bad boy.”

“We’ve had sex on this bed a million times.” You recall the ways his lips traced over your body, eager to memorize every inch of skin.

“But that’s when it was only your bed,” he points out. “Now it’s ours.”

Ours. Our bed, our home, our family. Ours.

You can barely change into pajamas before you’re falling asleep; Eddie manages to slip off his jeans and shirt, clad in plaid boxers and nothing else, before crashing down into the bed you now share. His arm slips around your waist, fingers reflexively dancing up your shirt, while he buries his head in the nape of your neck.

When daylight breaks and the sun streams through the gaps in the blinds, Eddie has assumed a starfish position, blankets flung to the edge of the bed in what must have been a middle-of-the-night move. You’re still dozing, but he knows he has to wake you if he wants to sneak in some alone time before his son wakes up.

“Morning, gorgeous.” His breath tickles under your earlobe, pulling you close to him. You hum, not quite awake but no longer dreaming. “C’mon, wake up, pretty thing.” He licks his lips before kissing the exposed skin of your shoulder blades.

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you turn over and face him. Your mouth lazily finds his, the cotton fabric of your pajama top fisted in his grasp. The outline of his morning wood is visible through his boxer shorts; it presses into your thigh as though greedily searching for your warmth. “You always wake up this hard?” you tease, fingertips already fiddling with the worn elastic waistband and dipping towards the treasure beneath. The scruff of his pubic hair grazes your knuckles.

“Only when I dream of you,” he mumbles with a cheeky grin, climbing on top of you while shedding his only clothing article. The boxers fall to the floor unceremoniously.

“Smooth.”

“I thought so.” Both hands cup your cheeks; you expect him to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Love waking up next to you.”

It draws a memory of the first morning you’d spent together; an inadvertent sleepover that culminated in one poorly-crafted lie and two broken hearts. He looks at you now, tired and yet still beautiful. How could I have let her slip by? How did I almost miss all of this?

You take the lead this time, arching your back so your torso melds into his, connected by desire. Eddie has your tank top off in a heartbeat, tongue swiping over your nipples the instant they’re visible.

“Perfect,” Eddie groans, making his way down your abdomen. He places your legs on top of his shoulders, lips delicately fluttering over your clit so he can lick a broad stripe up your labia. “I know we should be having a quickie, but I can’t turn down breakfast in bed.” His face is buried in your pussy, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory.

You giggle at his phrasing. If you question it, you know he’ll make a comment about you being good enough to eat. You give in instead, letting him ravish you just the way you both crave.

One finger, then two, slip into your waiting cunt while his mouth focuses on your clit. You’re dripping with your arousal and his saliva; you bite your lower lip to stifle the noises begging to be heard.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you croak, trying to keep your voice down. “I’m so close, s-so close…”

Eddie says nothing, continuing to worship the taste of you. You can feel his victorious smile as you cry out his name in orgasmic bliss, toes flexing just as he brings you down from the high.

“Need you, fuckin’ Christ,” he breathes, tempering the stimulation pulsing through his cock with a few short tugs.

You nod, already electrified at the prospect of being split open on him. He sinks into you with a muted moan, savoring the way you envelop him within your warmth. “All mine, Sweetheart; you’re all mine.”

“Mhm,” you manage. Your fingernails dig into his upper back with a force that will surely leave crescent indents in his skin. “I’m all yours. Always will be.”

His thumb runs along your jaw and he smiles. She’s all mine.

The ridges of his dick form a delectable friction along your walls. Each thrust is a mutual give and take, an exchanging of selves with every breath.

“I love you.” Eddie’s impossibly beautiful like this, hands holding your hips steady while sweat drips from his forehead onto yours. He brings your fourth finger between his lips; you can feel his tongue claiming it as his own. “And I’m gonna put a ring on this pretty little finger of yours, okay? Just want it to be perfect for you.”

You weave your fingers into his sleep-mussed curls and kiss him. “Don’t need perfect. I’ll marry you without a ring.” Whatever elaborate fairytale wedding you’d been crafting in your head is suddenly wholly unnecessary; all that matters is that you and Eddie commit to one another. But you know him well enough to not question his devotion to you. If Eddie Munson wants to give you the proposal of a lifetime, then that’s what he’s going to do.

There will be no unkept promises this morning, no shattered hearts to mend.

He can’t hold back any longer, spilling into you with punctuating grunts. You receive every last drop gratefully, a part of him within you, and you finish for the second time today.

“I meant it.” He gently withdraws from inside you, both of you mourning the loss of the other’s body. “When I said I’m gonna marry you, I meant it.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Eddie grins, laying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. Sweat glistens along the sparse hairs curling over his bare chest. “Are you hungry? I know I worked up an appetite.”

You kiss his nose, biting the end teasingly. He yelps in mock pain, so you kiss it again. “I am, but I have to be honest—between all the unpacking and sex, I don’t have the energy to make breakfast.”

“Me neither,” he admits with a laugh. “Why don’t we shower, wake up Sleeping Beauty,” he nudges his head towards Harris’s room, “and go to the diner.” He stretches and stands, eyes drawn to the nightstand, where the framed photo from Wayne leans against a porcelain lamp. Happiness captured with the click of a Kodak.

You’re smiling, thinking about sharing silver dollar pancakes with Harris again just like you used to do with Grandma. Somewhere along the way, you grew from the child to the adult in that scenario, passing on a tradition you never even knew had been started.

“That sounds amazing.” As you say it aloud, something in addition to hunger gnaws at your stomach. You’ve been putting it off, hiding from the truth, but you want to stop pretending. You want to feel everything that comes with accepting reality. Without sorrow, you would never recognize joy. Without grief, you won’t understand the depths of our love beyond the physical plain.

“Could we make a quick pit stop first?”

Though it’s still morning, the late June humidity has your shirt clinging to you, sweat beading along the collar and around your bra clasp. You close the car door behind you; Eddie shuffles to open the back door for Harris. The little boy unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the booster seat, glancing between you and his dad. You take his left hand and Eddie takes his right as you walk over to the stone.

“Hi, Grandma,” you whisper, crouching down to better see the engraving. Gently, your fingers dance over the etched words: Beloved wife, mother, grandmother, and friend. “I know I haven’t been by to visit you yet, but I’m here now.” You muster up a small smile. “And I brought Eddie and Harris with me. They…they loved you, too.”

You falter for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Eddie’s hand rubs your upper back, not caring about how perspiration-soaked it is.

“Do you want some privacy?” he murmurs. “Harris and I can wait by the car. You take as long as you need.”

You nod, watching them walk hand in hand to give you your space to grieve. Filling your lungs with a deep breath, you speak what’s been in your heart.

“I need to thank you,” you start, talking directly to where her name is engraved, “for a lot of things. But I guess, um, the most important is how you taught me to forgive without taking shit—can I swear in a cemetery?—from people.” Your laugh is heavy with the weight of remembrance.

“I miss you. A lot,” you continue, tears now spilling freely from your eyes. “I miss doing puzzles together. I miss cooking together. I’m going to try and make your applesauce for Thanksgiving this year. I think Harris will really like it.” You swallow thickly. “If you’d met him before you got sick, you would’ve adored him. He’s got the biggest heart of any kid I’ve ever met.”

You’re finding it easier to talk; everything you need to say is coming naturally and without hesitation.

“He’s…he’s living in your room. I guess, technically, it’s his room now. But a little part of me will always consider it your room, too. And I think that’s okay.” You nod, confirming to yourself that it’s all part of the process. “He keeps asking me and Eddie when we’re going to get married. To be honest, I’m kind of wondering the same thing.” You smile at the thought of marrying Eddie, maybe even legally adopting Harris, if that’s something they also want. “I’m not in a rush, though, but I really do believe that Eddie’s the one. He’s my person, and I’m his. So, yeah, I’m definitely hoping that he proposes sooner rather than later.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to visit. I always thought losing you wouldn’t be as hard as it was, because it felt like I had already lost you to dementia.” It feels silly to admit aloud, but it’s the truth. “I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be easy. But I promise, I’ll stop by more often, and I’ll have plenty of cute Harris stories to tell you.”

There’s just a bit more that you need to share before you can go. “I love you, Grandma. And…thank you for loving me, too.”

You stand up, pressing on your knees to ensure your balance. Taking one last look at the stone, you run your fingers over the jagged marble and turn back towards Eddie and Harris.

The little boy is perched on his father’s hip, squinting into the sunlight to make out your form. “You ready, Ms. Sweetheart?”

You blink through misty eyes, staring at the two people in front of you. Ten months ago, if someone had told you that your one-night stand at a dive bar would end up being the love of your life, you would have laughed in their face. But the universe does what it must to remain in balance, and it doesn’t humor any arguments.

Inhale, exhale, repeat. This is where you’re meant to be. This is who you’re meant to be: a partner, a friend, an almost-mommy.

“Yeah,” you say finally, the tears clearing from your vision and a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I’m ready.”

💚

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

994 notes · View notes

sanarsi · 1 month

Text

Date with a Rockstar

rockstar!Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Part 1 of Sex, Drugs and Rock’n’Roll Series

Summary: Frankie finally manages to invite you for a drink. Unfortunately, things go wrong and he ends up in jail. Warnings: +18, MDNI, protected PIV (implant), pussy eating (no one’s surprised, king will always be king), semi-public sex, car sex (on top! woah), creampie, soft!dom!Frankie, fight, blood, being arrested, mention of attempted rape, use of date rape drug (not by our sweet boy duh) Wordcount: 6,5k An: Without lying to anyone, I have to admit that Frankie is my personal favorite. He's just so gentle and sweet ughhh where's my Frankie :’( Anyway, I hope you like this version of him bc I really enjoyed this one! Music I worked with: Arabella - Arctic Monkeys

Masterlist

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. Today you tried harder than usual. You were desperate to finally catch attention of the sexy bassist, who kept sending you glances.

You were desperate enough to put on one of the shortest dresses you had in your closet. You were desperate enough to put on lipstick that had been lying forgotten in your bag for months. You were desperate enough, that your gaze pierced through even your own reflection.

You looked good.

More than just good. You looked sexy.

Sexy enough that when you walked towards the bar, everyone gave you a slightly too long looks. It was a good feeling. Every glance, tickled your ego more and more, making you feel confident.

The clatter of your heels was your only anchor the moment you entered the crowded bar, and the melancholic aura hit all your senses at a dizzying pace. You had already gotten used to the atmosphere that reigned here. The stuffiness, loud music and barely functioning lighting. With time, you could even admit that you liked being here. It was a nice break from your rigid reality.

Here, no one knew you. None of your friends even knew about this place. No wonder, you came here especially from the other end of town.

You came especially for him.

A slightly withdrawn, sweet bassist with big puppy eyes, who played with his band every Thursday.

You immediately headed towards the bar, glancing at the band that was currently entertaining the small crowd. You winced at the squeaky voice of the vocalist and quickly moved to the other end of the room.

The bartender gave you a quick glance, smiling immediately when he saw the familiar face. You smiled back and, avoiding a collision with the slightly tipsy guy, stood at the bar, leaning against the counter.

“I thought I wouldn’t see you here today,” he asked casually, preparing a drink at the same time. You shrugged, watching as he skillfully mixed everything in the shaker.

Al, because that was his name, was the only one who kept you company during your weekly visits. You could say that you became somewhat friends. He was nice, funny and scared away the pests that sometimes hung around you.

“I thought you got to know me a little by now, Al,” you teased with a smirk. You both focused your attention on the drink he handed to some woman, after which he began pouring beer into two mugs.

“Oh yeah,” he snorted in amusement. “You couldn’t miss your Romeo’s concert,” he began, teasing you. You laughed, shaking your head and glanced towards the stage before focusing your attention on him again.

“Quite a lot of traffic,” you said to start a casual conversation. The man immediately perked up, snorting under his breath and mumbling a quiet ‘yeah’ before handing you a glass of cola. He had learned that trying to talk you into a drink never brought the desired result. You thanked him quietly and took a sip.

"They've been coming here like pigs to a barn since morning." You snorted, almost spitting out your drink, starting to choke, to which he just gave you an amused look. "It's Thursday, for fuck's sake. People don't go to work on Fridays or something?" he continued, serving another customer.

He gave a forced smile to the girl who gave him the tip, winking flirtatiously. All she had to do was turn her back to him, and he immediately rolled his eyes in boredom. He looked at you tiredly and finally had a moment to breathe. He reached for the drink hidden under the counter and took a large sip with relief. "These cunts have been after me since morning, too," he muttered, looking around the room.

"Oh stop it, they're just nice."

"Horny," he corrected you, raising his eyebrows when he returned his gaze to you. You nodded, taking another sip.

"True," you said, "but you can't blame them. You don't look like you're on the other side of the force," you explained, pointing at him with your hand. He looked at you with amusement and then snorted.

"Is that what it's called now? The other side of the force?" he asked, pushing himself away from the counter. “God, I really am getting old,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a wide smile, and began serving the next customer.

You turned around, leaning your back against the counter and began to watch the people dancing. It amused you that some people could dance to such crappy music. No offense, the new band that had been playing here for a week just sucked really bad.

"They're bad, aren't they?" A male voice rang out from near you.

You glanced to the side and almost had a heart attack when you saw the man you came here for. Your heart started beating so fast that you almost choked on air.

He was standing, leaning against the counter, maybe a meter away from you, watching the band with the same amusement as you had just a moment ago.

A mug of beer occupied his hand as his fingers slowly ran over the wet glass. You swallowed hard, observing his profile. Slightly disheveled hair under a baseball cap, an aquiline nose and a strong jaw covered with stubble.

Fuck, he was so damn handsome.

Your silence made him look at you and he slowly took a drink of beer. Dark eyes shone like two lanterns in the middle of the ocean. But they couldn't save you from drowning in his gaze. He licked his lips from the hop aftertaste and took a step towards you. You tried to breathe as quietly as possible because you had the impression that you started to pant at the sight of the sweet smile that appeared on his lips.

"Frankie Morales," he introduced himself, extending his hand towards you.

"I know."

Silence fell between you.

You stared at him, not even being aware of what you had just said. Only when he raised an eyebrow in amusement, gave you a sobering slap on the cheek. You closed your eyes, sighing in embarrassment at your behavior.

"I mean-" you started, wanting to somehow get out of the uncomfortable situation you had put yourself in. But his quiet laugh immediately made you fall silent, looking at him as if enchanted. He had a damn charming laugh.

"No, it's okay, I understand," he said, relaxing the whole atmosphere in a second.

Your stomach clenched pleasantly when you finally smiled gently and gave him your hand, introducing yourself. And maybe you were going crazy, but his hand held yours much longer than the situation required. Where he touched you, he left a trail of shivers that stirred your blood to such a state, that you immediately had to drink to cool yourself down.

Frankie leaned against the counter next to you, watching your every move, especially the way your lips formed against the glass, leaving a trace of lipstick behind.

"So..." he began slowly, deep down pleased by your reaction. "I see you here often. You come every Thursday, right?" he asked, wanting to start a conversation.

You nodded, setting the glass down and licking your wet lips. "Yeah."

His smirk only widened. He glanced at the bartender who was sending you not-so-subtle glances.

"I guess not to listen to them." He nodded towards the stage received an amused snort from you in response. He smiled, revealing his teeth as you looked at him with a furrowed brow and a sweet smile.

"No."

"I thought so," he laughed quietly and took a sip of his beer.

This was your chance.

You were finally talking to him.

You could finally show him that you were interested.

"Actually, I'm coming for your band," you said, looking towards the stage to calm the feeling of stress that was starting to grow unwanted in your chest.

"Yeah?" he asked, and for the first time, his gaze traveled down your body. He subtly lingered longer on your exposed thighs and he immediately felt saliva welling up in his mouth.

"Mhm," you hummed, nodding. You looked at him the moment he tore his gaze away from your body and felt a wave of heat as you realized you had his attention.

You knew your slutty dress would do the trick.

"Then you're missing out." You fell silent, staring at him incredulously. You mumbled a quiet, ‘huh’, as he took a sip of beer instead of immediately explaining what he meant. "We're much better at rehearsals."

"Rehearsals?" you frowned, still not understanding what he was talking about.

Did they have any rehearsals that you didn't know about? Did they play on different days? Al would have told you, right?

"Yeah, in the guys' garage, we get carried away more," he explained. But that only caused more confusion. Frankie saw it immediately and straightened up, quickly continuing.

There was no way he had become so hopeless at flirting.

"I mean," he snorted nervously and scratched the back of his neck. "That you should see it. If you're coming here for us, then you should witness a real show." He felt the stress starting to eat him up from the inside.

Why was he even nervous? He was good at it. He never had a problem with flirting.

The only problem was that this time his intention wasn't just to get you into bed.

"Sure," you smiled brightly, and a heavy weight immediately fell from his heart. He sighed with relief and whispered quietly, ‘cool’.

The sight of him like that, gave you a flock of butterflies in your stomach. He was just as stressed as you were, which gave you a strange sense of security. Suddenly it wasn't awkward anymore. You just stood there looking at each other with smiles, feeling the flow of warmth between your bodies.

“Shall I give you my number?” you suggested, raising an eyebrow as he continued to stand there without a word. Your question snapped him out of his suspended animation.

“Oh. Yes, please,” he nodded eagerly, to which you giggled quietly and looked away, searching for Al. Your attention focused on him, immediately drawing him like a magnet.

It wasn’t like he had been watching you from the very beginning, just waiting for some sign that you needed him.

“Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?” you asked, and you didn’t have to say anything more. He started rummaging under the counter and in a few seconds he put everything you asked for in front of you. You smiled gratefully, to which he winked at you and left.

“You’ve become friends in these two months,” Frankie noticed, watching you write down a series of numbers on a small, pink piece of paper.

“Yes, he’s a sweetheart,” you nodded, writing down the last two numbers, but before you lifted the pen from the paper, you felt waves of shivers. Two months.

He knew since you started coming here. He’d been watching you from the very beginning.

Your heart sped up as, without giving anything away, you folded the piece of paper and held it out to him.

“Thanks.” He smiled and took the note, deliberately touching your fingers. Such a small gesture caused a powerful wave of electricity that went straight between your thighs. You held back a moan and sighed quietly instead.

Applause echoed through the bar, so you both looked towards the stage, where the band was just leaving. You both knew what that meant.

“Hey, listen…” Frankie began, feeling a surge of adrenaline. He had to hurry to get to the stage on time. “Would you like to grab a drink after our set?” he asked much more confidently.

“With you?” You smiled wider, feeling like you had won the lottery. Your reaction was everything he could have wanted.

“Yeah I…” he trailed off and glanced towards the stage, where his friends were starting to line up. Pope’s gaze met his, signaling him to hurry up. “You know… I don’t really like sharing,” he finished, glancing at your smiling face. You looked cute. He regretted that he had no time to talk to you longer, but he sincerely hoped that everything would go his way and he could enjoy you later. And your gaze clearly told him that you would gladly let him enjoy you, not just over a drink.

“Okay,” you nodded, biting your lip, which didn’t go unnoticed by him. And it certainly didn’t go unnoticed by his dick.

Fuck, he regretted that he had to go on stage right now.

“Okay,” he repeated, holding your gaze until the sound of a microphone being set up echoed through the room. “I have to go,” he said, as if it wasn’t obvious enough for both of you.

You laughed sweetly at the energy that bubbling inside him. “Okay,” you nodded again.

“Okay,” he replied with a smile, starting to walk backwards towards the stage. You watched with amusement as people moved out of his way so he wouldn’t step on them, until he disappeared into the crowd, only to jump on stage a moment later. You snorted at the sight and took a sip of your cola.

“I thought he’d never dare to approach you,” Al said from behind you. You looked at him with a satisfied smile.

“The dress worked,” was all you said before the sound of guitar and drums echoed through the bar.

The concert had been going on for an hour, gathering more and more people under the stage. The later hour meant more and more customers. Al was busy, fulfilling several orders at once, so you were forced into the company of some guy who wouldn't leave you alone. Bored, you listened as he talked about his vacation in Asia, glancing at Frankie every now and then.

You saw the sweat glistening on his forehead as he watched his fingers play the strings. Every now and then his gaze would meet yours, and the smile he gave you would make you feel warmer and warmer. Only because of that, were you able to endure the company of a self-absorbed idiot, who thought that talking about how rich he was would somehow impress you. You were allergic to poseurs, and he was like a living example from the textbook „HOW TO AVOID LOSERS”.

Frankie had just started playing a solo, so you couldn't tear your eyes away from him, even if you wanted to. The voice of the man next to you stopped reaching your ears the moment the sounds of the bass guitar cut through the space.

You loved watching how devoted Frankie played. You could watch him for hours. Just like he could you.

That's what he did.

And that's why his heart beat faster when he saw something and that probably saved your life.

His smile disappeared and his fingers stopped plucking the strings. You frowned at his strange behavior. He looked in your direction, but his gaze was absent. But you quickly got answers to your unasked questions.

Frankie handed the guitar to Pope, not even looking to see if he aimed for his hand. People squealed in surprise when he jumped off the stage and began pushing through the crowd. Your heart beat faster when you saw him walking towards you. But his gaze was... different. He was furious. You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling a sudden wave of stress.

He was furious.

But why would he-

Then everything happened too fast for you to react.

Frankie walked past without even looking at you and clenched his fists on the guy's shirt. You jumped on the spot as he pulled him towards himself and threw him to the ground. The poser, whose name you couldn't even remember, was in as much shock as you were, so he didn't even have time to start defending himself as Frankie sat on him, pinning him to the ground with his weight. And then the first punch fell.

His fist connected with the guy's cheek, making him groan in pain. You covered your mouth with your hand, looking at everything in shock, and jumped on the spot as another punch split his lip and his blood appeared on the floor. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you watched Frankie ruthlessly deliver punch after punch. The guy underneath him, groaning in pain, spitting out another portion of blood. People gathered around, watching the spectacle, having a great time.

And you were terrified. You were shaking inside, paralyzed with fear.

Another punch.

His fist was bloody and furiously red from the force with which he punched his opponent's face. And when you gathered the courage to speak up and try to stop it all, his snarl froze you.

"She wasn't interested so you decided to rape her?"

You immediately looked at your glass and noticed in shock that at the bottom, there was something that was slowly dissolving. Cold sweat poured over your body as you realized what you were the victim of.

A rape pill.

"Fuckin’ son of a bitch," Frankie growled, and when you looked at him again, you saw him wiping blood from his lip, which was now cut. The almost unconscious guy had somehow managed to land one punch. But that was all he did.

It was his face that was all blue and bloody. He was the one lying there, barely breathing.

“Frankie,” you whispered in a trembling voice. And despite the chaos around you, he heard you without a problem. He looked at you, breathing heavily, his fist stopped halfway to deliver another punch.

The guy under him coughed, choking on blood, and suddenly three policemen appeared out of nowhere. People in a panic cleared a path for them to get to the very center of the action. And then Frankie was the one lying on the ground, crushed by a cop’s knee. He winced at the unnecessary force they used to overpower him, because he had surrendered without any resistance. Two policemen were collecting what was left of the beaten man from the ground, and the third was handcuffing Frankie. Only that sound tore you out of your stupor.

You watched as the policeman, not very gently, pulled him up and yanked him when he heard his groan of dissatisfaction. With your heart in your throat, you approached them. You were terrified by the whole situation and Frankie noticed it right away. He gave you a smirk and a wink to calm you down.

But that only made the policeman more nervous, so he jerked him again.

"You're happy by the fact that you kicked some guy's ass?" he growled with venom, to which he only smiled wider and licked the cut on his lip. His gaze didn't leave your eyes for a moment; big, shiny eyes that looked at him with confusion.

"I would have killed him if you hadn't stopped me," he replied confidently. You didn't want to believe it, but the seriousness with which he said it exerted the opposite emotions in you.

"We'll see if you're so brave at the police station." And he jerked him again, this time heading towards the exit of the bar.

"Where are you taking him?" you asked loudly, drawing the cop's attention. He glanced at you and his gaze raked down your body with disapproval. Son of a bitch. “I have a right to know, I’m his fiancée,” you added, lifting your chin higher.

Frankie looked at you with amusement and pride. You were so damn sexy when you acted like that.

The cop looked skeptically from you to your fiancé and rolled his eyes. “State police,” he said casually and that was all you saw of him.

Frankie disappeared, and right after him, the whole band. They didn’t seem too bothered as they mumbled the words, ’we need to get him out again’. Again.

Then there were only formalities. You sat on a bar stool answering more questions from one of the policemen. The footage from the cameras and your statements gave the green light to a possible quick bailout of Frankie from custody.

You felt extremely guilty about what had happened, so when you heard the words, ’That’s it. If we have more questions, we’ll contact you’, you almost ran out of the bar.

You probably broke most of the traffic laws when you drove towards the state police station, but it was late, so the streets were almost empty. Luckily, you didn't kill anyone on the way and you made it in one piece.

Apart from your heart beating too fast and your thoughts racing, you were in quite great shape.

You got out of the car and ran towards the police station as fast as your heels would allow you. However, you quickly stopped halfway when you heard loud laughter, which after a moment became faces.

The whole band was just leaving the building, talking loudly with wide smiles on their faces. Everyone was in great spirits, including Frankie. He laughed like a child when he got another punch in the ribs and another warning that next time he'd be behind bars all night.

Pope noticed you first and his smile turned into a smirk as he looked at Frankie and whistled in appreciation.

"For a chick like this, even I would go to jail," he commented, which caught the attention of the rest of the men.

Everyone started looking around until they finally landed on you. Each of them looked down your body and Ben was the only one to nod with cessation, for which he got a punch in the stomach from his brother.

"What?" he groaned but in response he only got a warning look.

You tensed, feeling everyone's eyes on you but then Frankie looked over Ben's shoulder, your attention immediately focused only on him. Shock flew across his face at the sight of you but he quickly smiled and pushed through them. You noticed how everyone exchanged knowing glances with each other, then Tom patted him on the shoulder.

"We’ll leave you here," he said then smiled pleasantly in your direction. You watched as everyone started to walk away, with stupid smiles on their faces.

"Thanks guys!" Frankie shouted but didn't even look in their direction. Only you were able to see Pope wave at him, also not looking at him. You raised an eyebrow with a smile, watching this comical situation but when your gaze fell on the man in front of you again, you became a little more serious.

Stress clenched your stomach as all the events that had happened in such a short time started to come back to you. You swallowed the lump in your throat seeing him take a step towards you.

"I'm sorry for what happened," you blurted out in one breath, making him stop halfway into the next step. He frowned and only then did he notice how stressed you were.

"You have nothing to apologize to me for. It wasn't your fault that some motherfucker slipped some shit into your drink," he said seriously and you felt waves of cold shivers again. It was only when he said it, that it started to dawn on you how you could have ended up if it wasn't for him.

“You ended up in jail because of me,” you added, still feeling guilty.

Frankie snorted under his breath and spread his hands, looking around.

"As you can see, I'm not in it anymore," he noticed, which managed to make you smile a little.

Half the battle.

He slowly walked closer to you with a gentle smile and a tender look. Your heart began to beat faster when he stopped in front of you. Your gaze immediately fell on the cut on his lip and in a rush of something strange, you raised your hand and gently touched the small wound. Electricity passed under your fingertips from the contact with his heated skin.

"Then I apologize for this," you said and his lips formed a smile under your fingers. You immediately looked up at his eyes, which sparkled with amusement.

"I was only defending my fiancée." The tone he spoke with sent butterflies flying through your stomach. You snorted sweetly under your breath and looked down, causing his smile to widen.

With that one sentence, all the tension and stress melted away into thin air.

“Oh, right,” you nodded, more to yourself than to him, and pulled your fingers away from his lips. “Thank you,” you said politely, and then his hand closed around your wrist, trapping yours a few inches from his face. You inhaled louder, feeling his fingers grip your skin.

He gently but firmly pulled you closer, placing your hand on the back of his neck. You gave in to his movements, wanting to see where this was all leading.

"I guess that's not how you should thank your fiancé," he noted with a smirk and slowly put his arm around your waist and connected your bodies in one movement.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as if you had at least run a marathon. Standing in his arms, you couldn't focus on anything. Your gaze was so damn innocent that Frankie automatically hugged you a little tighter, wanting to protect you from everything around. But now the only thing he could protect you from, was himself.

"The policemen who are watching, are definitely not convinced by our love," he teased with a glint in his eye. You shivered, unconsciously digging your fingers into his neck and glanced towards the police station. You ran your gaze over all the windows, but it was dark everywhere.

“But no one’s looking,” you whispered, as if someone could hear you, and looked at him again. And you almost moaned when he leaned in a little closer to you.

“But someone’s could,” he whispered as well.

You immediately understood what was hidden behind his words and even though you tried, you couldn't stop the smile that spread across your lips.

"Right," you nodded and lifted your other hand, placing it on his cheek the moment he leaned down to connect your lips. You purred feeling his stubble tickle your skin and with a giggle you let his tongue connect with yours. He tasted so damn good and was so gentle that you quickly felt the arousal building between your thighs.

His hands slowly ran over your back and waist, which made you moan softly. And your moan made him sigh before he pressed you harder against his chest. His fingers dug pleasantly into your skin until your blood started to boil.

You slid your fingers into his locks that were tangled on his neck and gently ran your nails over his scalp. This time he moaned softly and deepened the kiss even more. His tongue was in perfect sync with yours, not even trying to dominate you for a moment. It was a completely new feeling and you had to admit, that you fuckin’ loved it.

“So what about that drink?” you asked when he pulled away from you for a moment to catch his breath. You bit your lip with a gentle smile and slowly ran your nails down the back of his neck and Frankie had to admit that he was already having trouble standing when his cock began to painfully dig into his jeans.

He pursed his lips, holding back a groan and nodded eagerly at your offer and he was able to hold out if you wanted to have a drink with him. He was able to wait until you gave him a sign that you wanted to go further.

But then you started walking towards your car, gyrating your hips in front of his face.

A quiet growl escaped his throat as he looked helplessly at the sky, mentally counting to ten to calm down. Only then did he look at you again and damn it, it didn’t work.

He quickly covered the distance between you, calling your name. You managed to unlock the car with the remote before you looked in his direction and his lips immediately attacked yours. You gasped in surprise but gave in without resistance as he forced his tongue into your mouth. His fingers tangled in your hair, holding you against him as he slowly moved forward, pushing you back until you hit the hood of your car. When he pinned you with hips, his hands immediately found their way to your waist, his fingers gripping your flesh tightly. Another moan died in his mouth as you tried to return his kisses with the same fervor.

"I'm sorry," he sighed against your lips, sliding his hands down to your bare thighs and clenching them perfectly under your ass. You shivered, digging your nails into his shoulder. "I don't usually start like this," he said, trying to somehow excuse his behaviour, his lack of restraint, right outside the doors of the police station. You moaned into his mouth as he massaged your thighs intensely, getting closer and closer to their core.

"Me neither," you gasped and then both of you locked eyes.

And you both knew what a fucking bad idea had flown through your heads.

And both of you seemed completely unconcerned about the consequences the moment your lips connected again and his fingers hurriedly began to pull up your dress.

You were acting like stupid teenagers but suddenly it didn't matter. All that mattered now was that he was spreading your thighs with his knee so he could be even closer. And when his hips brushed against yours, you felt how hard he was, how much he wanted to get out of his tight pants because of you. And you'd be lying if you said you didn't leak at the thought of him entering you.

Frankie gasped, grinding against you once more before he pulled away, leaving you breathless. You moaned at the sudden feeling of losing his soft lips on yours, but it quickly passed the moment you saw him kneeling in front of you. You shivered at the sight of his head between your legs and whimpered impatiently. His warm breath fanned your pubic but his lips found their way to your hip. You closed your eyes and gasped at the pleasant waves of warmth that began to spread through your body, from every place he kissed.

He slid from hip to your thigh and his warm tongue combined with his scratching beard were already taking you to the heights of pleasure. Oh, it had definitely been too long since anyone had touched you. Or maybe it was Frankie who had such an effect on you.

You didn't have a moment to think about it because you felt his fingers gently hook your panties, pushing them aside. You inhaled louder and looked down with your lips parted. He leaned down, pressing the tip of his nose between your slit and shamelessly inhaled your scent. He groaned, bringing you to a state you had never been in before so quickly.

"You smell amazing, baby," he purred, tightening his fingers on your thighs and without warning, he plunged his tongue into your leaking hole. You moaned loudly, looking down at him and your hand tangled itself in his hair.

Frankie slowly ran his tongue between your lips, tasting all the excitement that had managed to escape from you. He purred as if he was eating his favorite dessert. You tightened your fingers in his hair, feeling how every movement of his delicate tongue brought you closer and closer to the heights of pleasure.

"Frankie," you gasped loudly and in response you only received a quiet purr and his tongue on your clit. A broken moan escaped you before you started to breathe heavily because he simply started making out with her.

He sank into your pussy and didn't want to break away even for a second. Like a thirsty man, he circled your sweet spot, licked up your juices, and kissed you. Passionately and deeply, until your knees began to shake.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," you moaned squeaky, pulling his head closer to your temple. You started to gasp for air, chasing your orgasm that was inexorably approaching with every movement of his tongue. Until finally, you felt a wave of fulfillment pass through your body. You held his hair tightly, not letting him move as he continued to guide you through your orgasm. Broken moans echoed around as your clit throbbed under his tongue.

You swallowed hard and loosened your grip on his hair, which immediately allowed him to lick everything that flowed out of you. You moaned as you felt his tongue gently plunge into your throbbing hole. A quiet curse escaped your lips as you calmed your breathing, looking at the starry sky.

"Tell me you're on some kind of pills because I don't know if I have any condoms with me," he gasped, suddenly appearing in front of you.

His lips glistened with your juices and you couldn't resist pulling him to you by his shirt to kiss him hard. You were so fucking grateful for the wonderful orgasm he gave you, you couldn't put it into words. So you just let yourself kiss him passionately, hugging his neck tightly. He didn't resist, in fact, he willingly leaned closer and sank his teeth into you with pleasure.

"Mhm," you hummed in confirmation because you couldn't even tell him that you had an implant and that you desperately wanted to feel him inside you without any shitty latex barriers. That was enough for him to reach into his pants and sloppily start unbuckling his belt. And you were so impatient that in the meantime you unzipped his fly. You moaned feeling his cock twitch towards your hands.

"Baby, I swear to you, I'm clean," he gasped, reaching for his seething cock.

You immediately jumped, sitting on the hood of the car and spreading your legs wide for him. You didn't even look down when you felt his hot tip right next to your entrance. A groan escaped his throat as he passed between your wet lips a few times and slowly entered you. Your loud moan died in his mouth, which effectively silenced you as he went deeper and deeper, only to withdraw a moment later and go even deeper again. Your walls clenched tightly around him, getting used to his invasive presence. Either you hadn't had a cock inside you for so long, or he was well-endowed by mother nature.

“You’re so big,” you whimpered, taking just over half of him.

Frankie groaned loudly, gripping your hips tightly, trying to go deeper but just couldn’t. He cursed under his breath and slowly began to thrust into you, hoping he could stretch you out more over time. But just half of him was enough to make you cock drunk.

You sloppily began to kiss him back and bit his lip hard when he tried to go deeper inside you. He hissed in pain and you felt a metallic taste in your mouth. You looked at him terrified but you couldn’t fight the pleasure his dick was giving you, still moving inside your tight pussy.

“I’m sorry,” you moaned, digging your nails into the back of his neck as he thrust his hips harder again. You slid your other hand down to his cheek and wiped the blood that was starting to run down his chin with your thumb.

“Again,” he gasped, looking at you completely pussy drunk. You clenched around him, making him groan, closing his eyes and letting you press hard into his mouth again.

The pain of the open wound and your tongue gently caressing it, sent shivers down to his balls. He felt fucking nirvana as your pussy allowed him to go deeper with each thrust. He tried to fight the quickly approaching orgasm but he simply couldn't. The way you caressed his body was beyond him.

"Baby please, I can't hold it in any longer," he moaned, starting to tremble. Then your lips began to create a trail of kisses along his jaw to his ear. You needed a long moment to come yourself, but right now you wanted nothing more than to please him.

"Go ahead," you whispered with a smile and gently bit his earlobe. The sounds he began to make with each subsequent thrust could bring you to another orgasm without even having to touch your pussy. You made a mental note to try it with him sometime.

All the moans went straight to his ear, and from his ear, straight to his cock, which was pulsing furiously, signaling the approaching orgasm. And then he made the most animalistic sound you've ever heard in your life. His balls tightened in pleasure, and all of his cum erupted deep inside you. He panted heavily, thrusting into you a few more times before he stopped and rested his head on your shoulder. Your cunt throbbed with the excitement of his orgasm and squeezed the last drops out of him, making him shiver. You began to place soft kisses on his neck and played with his hair between your fingers.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said contritely, feeling awful that he had selfishly come before you.

“Don’t be,” you whispered, smiling fondly and pulling away. Frankie straightened up, looking at you with sparkling eyes. He looked so damn innocent after his orgasm that you immediately wanted to take care of him.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he offered and you could hear the hint of pleading in his voice. You smiled wider, shaking your head and placing your hands on his cheeks, stroking his stubble with your thumbs.

“Actually, it was the best first date of my life,” you admitted and leaned down, placing a soft and sweet kiss on his lips. Frankie looked at you with puppy eyes and wrapped his arms around your waist tightly. “And honestly, I’m counting on another one. I haven't had this much fun in a while," you bit your lip hiding your wide smile and that was enough to stop him feeling like a dick. He smiled softly and this time he leaned down connecting your lips in a sweet and slow kiss.

"In that case, I make pretty good drinks," he whispered biting your lip getting a moan from you in return.

"I'd like that."

#frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal smut #sanarsi fic

179 notes · View notes

fragileruns · 1 year

Note

Hi! Could you make a One shot where James Potter is a barista and he's completely in love with a girl that's always going to get coffee after her classes?

Something with a lot of fluff♡

i’m so in love with james potter it hurts. genuinely hurts. hope you enjoy this !

summary: james thinks you’re the prettiest girl to ever walk into his coffee shop, and he finally works up the nerve to ask you out.

warnings: super fluffy, james being helplessly in love, nervous james, i think that’s it? brief mention of sirius

James is not-so patiently waiting for you to walk through the doors of his coffee shop, eyes glancing at the door every moment he can spare.

You always came in around this time, every Monday, Tuesday, and Friday. Always ordering the same thing before going to sit at an empty table and start working away on your laptop.

James always watches you. Not in a stalker-like way, or at least he hopes not. You’re just so pretty that it’s impossible for him not to look. He thinks if he had more nerve, he’d have asked you out by now.

Finally, the bell rings signaling that someone had walked in, and his eyes snap up much too fast, a grin breaking out on his face once he realizes it’s you.

“My favorite customer. I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” he spoke, glancing at the clock. You were a bit later than usual, but you came. That was what mattered to him. “Just your usual?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, James,” you sounded preoccupied, and you had bags underneath your eyes. As beautiful as ever, but clearly overworked.

“You alright? You’re usually more chipper,” he frowned, trying not to seem like he spent too much time studying you, even though he definitely did. Every waking moment was spent waiting for you to walk through the doors.

“I’m okay. Finals are coming up, and I… I think I may completely fail, and I’ll have to drop out and become a stripper. Or worse.”

“Don’t be silly. You can always work here, I’m sure Sirius would appreciate the company,” he teased, smiling wider when you flipped him off. “I’m joking. You won’t fail, you’re like, the smartest person I know.”

“The only thing you really know about me is my coffee order,” you responded, reaching for the mug he sat in front of you as soon as he finished making it. You should’ve felt bad for the other customers, you were taking up all of James’ time. He didn’t seem to mind.

“False. I also know you like doughnuts,” James added, sliding a doughnut across the counter for you.

You reluctantly broke your grumpy facade and gave him a smile, one that he swore caused his heart to stop. “Thank you, James.”

He couldn’t make himself speak, too awe-struck to form any words. So, he simply nodded and watched as you walked over to your normal table, one that faced out the window.

James went back to serving everyone else, looking over at you every once in a while. (Truthfully, it was probably every other minute.) You were hard at work, and he ached to be able to smooth out the crease in your forehead as you focused on your paper.

A couple hours went by, and you were still working. James was starting to get worried. You always worked hard, but you already seemed so stressed and tired. And as much as he loved having you sit in his coffee shop, he was sure you’d be much more comfortable at home.

He slid off his apron, calling out to Sirius that he was taking his break before he walked over to your table. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“Hm?” You had questioned, too focused on your laptop to even recognize that someone was talking to you, until you finally looked up to see a curly mop of hair. You smiled and nodded your head. “Oh — yeah, sure. Of course.”

“You looked like you needed a break.”

Your eyes widened a bit, as if you hadn’t realized how long you had been there. Your eyes snapped up to the clock, wincing slightly. “I didn’t realize how long I’d been here. Sorry. Am I hogging the table?”

“What? No. No. You’re not, I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay. You’ve been working hard. Too hard,” James was quick to explain, forcing his hand to stay by his side rather than reaching up to tuck the stray piece of hair out of your face.

“I’m okay. Do you check on all of your customers this way?” You questioned, a hint of a smile on your face, like you knew he didn’t. Like you knew about this crush he’s been harboring on you for ages.

Part of him hopes you do know.

“Only the pretty ones.” He flirted, mentally high-fiving himself whenever he saw the blush on your cheeks. It gave him the slightest confidence boost, which was exactly what he needed.

“Do you want to go to dinner with me?”

You seemed to snap back into reality, looking at him. Then behind you, as if he could be speaking to anyone else.

“Tonight? Now?”

“No, no. Not tonight. Just… you know, some time when you’re free. After finals, if you want. We can celebrate or — or you know, whatever.” The confidence he previously held was slowly dwindling, as he fully prepared for what he thought was going to be rejection. “Or we can do something else. If you want. Like, um, see a movie. Get coffee. You know, just — just whatever.”

“James,” you started, and he hadn’t noticed the grin on your face until your voice broke his ramble. It almost calmed him. “Are you asking me out?”

“No. I mean, yes. Maybe. Do you want it to be me asking you out?”

You cleared your throat, willing yourself not to laugh as you shut your laptop. “If you are asking me out, then I’d say I’m free next Friday. And I’d love to do anything with you. Except, maybe not get coffee. It wouldn’t be anything special,” you started, and James felt the sigh of relief that left him. “But, if you’re not, I’m free next Friday, but I’m sincerely disappointed.”

“Oh. Well, then I was definitely asking you out. Just in a horrible, embarrassing way.” He confirmed, doing hs best to keep his cool. To not bounce with excitement. He felt he was failing, he was sure you could see right through him.

“It was cute. I’ll meet you here next Friday? Normal time, or?” You questioned, packing your things back into your bag and standing up from the table as you looked at him.

“Normal time. That’s, that’s definitely okay.” His hair flopped with his eager nod, standing up along with you.

“Okay, cool. And James?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you. So, you know, don’t freak out when it happens.”

“You’re — you’re gonna kiss me? Like, now?” He questioned, glancing around at everyone who was watching. Not that he cared, he’d probably kiss you in front of the entire world and be smug about it.

“No,” you laughed, and James felt his heart break slightly. “When I see you. Next Friday.”

“Oh. Right, that makes more sense,” he nodded, watching as you left, giggling and smiling. He was half disappointed, half excited.

And he knew he’d be counting down the seconds until you showed back up in his coffee shop.

#james potter x reader #marauders x reader #james potter fluff #marauders fluff #james potter blurbs #james potter x you #james potter drabbles #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter au

1K notes · View notes

seventrio · 11 months

Text

MİRHOME - SİLVER

Mirhome.nl is a reputable retailer of home goods that offers a wide range of products to meet the needs of every household. From kitchenware to home decor, Mirhome.nl provides customers with quality products at affordable prices. One of the main categories of products offered by Mirhome.nl is drinkware, which includes a variety of glasses, mugs, and cups for all types of beverages. The drinkware selection at Mirhome.nl is diverse, catering to a wide range of preferences and needs. Whether you are looking for elegant wine glasses, durable tumblers, or stylish coffee mugs, Mirhome.nl has got you covered. The website offers various brands and styles of drinkware, including Paşabahçe, which is renowned for its quality and style. Pasabahçe is a glass company that has been producing high-quality glassware since 1935. Their focus on quality and eco-friendliness has made them a trusted brand in the industry. One of the most notable brands offered by Mirhome.nl is Pasabahçe. This brand is known for its exceptional quality and style, making it a popular choice for those who value both form and function in their drinkware. Pasabahçe offers a wide range of drinkglazen products, including wine glasses, tumblers, and tea sets. Their tea sets, in particular, are a popular item on Mirhome.nl. With Pasabahçe's commitment to quality and style, customers can trust that they are investing in a product that will not only meet their needs but also exceed their expectations.

#Paşabahçe #Drinkglazen

446 notes · View notes

sydsaint · 6 months

Text

The only relevant member of The Bloodline. Change my mind. <3

Summary: After getting stuck with Solo in a small mix-match challenge tournament on Raw and Smackdown, the reader realizes that she's developed feelings for him. The only problem? Reader is Cody's younger sister, and Cody is hell-bent on finishing his story.

It's the finals of the Raw vs Smackdown mix-match challenge. Two months ago, you got paired up with Solo Sikoa for one of the Smackdown pairings. Together the two of you have managed to run through the entire Smackdown side of the bracket. Now it all comes down to this. You and Solo vs Raw's bracket winners, Becky Lynch and Seth Rollins.

"You ready for this, Solo?" You ask Sikoa while the two of you are backstage waiting for your cue.

"We've already beaten everyone else, right?" Solo nods. "How hard can one more win be?"

You smile at his confidence and finish your stretching while you still can. Two months ago you would have laughed in the face of anyone that told you that you'd be friends and partners with anyone in the Bloodline. But here you are.

You and Solo started off a bit rocky. The man's cousin having a vendetta against your brother wasn't exactly the best basis for a new partnership. But the two of you managed to put your differences aside and work together to defeat the Smackdown bracket.

"Right. One more win." You repeat Solo's earlier statement, your gaze fixed on the monitor displaying the ring. "How hard can it be, right?" You assure yourself.

One of the backstage crew signals that it's time for your match so you pull the custom team shirt that the company made for yourself and Solo over your head. Solo's music hits first and he rolls his shoulders to loosen up before stepping through the curtain. Your music plays a few seconds later and you follow him out to the ramp.

You do a quick and clean handstand flip out on the ramp and come to a stop right at Solo's side. The two of you share a look and head down to the ring where Becky and Seth are already waiting.

"You want to start?" You ask Solo as the two of you take your place in your corner. "I can keep an eye on Becky if you want to try and wear down Rollins." You suggest.

"Yeah, alright." Solo nods and climbs up onto the apron. He offers you his hand and hauls you up as well.

You grab ahold of the tag rope and the bell rings. Solo and Seth lurch at one-another while you and Becky mean-mug one another from opposite sides of the ring. You watch the men duke it out and trade blows for a while before Seth retreats and tags in his wife.

Solo begrudgingly walks over to your corner and tags you in per the rules of mixed tag matches. "Go kick her ass, Goldie." Solo's hand collides with yours and you crack a small smile at his use of your nickname.

You step into the ring and Becky is on you in an instant. The two of you trade some heavy shots before you head to the ropes to gain some leverage. Your move set is more high-caliber, flyer moves, so it can take some time to set things up.

You bounce off the ring ropes and hit Becky for a clothesline that knocks her to the mat. You then switch to the other side of the ring and jump to use the ropes for a moonsalt. You manage to hit Becky head-on and go for a pin.

"Damnit!" You curse the air when Becky kicks out of your pin at a two-count.

Becky scrambles to her feet and kicks you in the sternum as she gets up. The blow propels you back a couple of feet and knocks the wind out of you. Out of breath, you scoot back and tag Solo back into the match before rolling to the floor to recoup.

Solo and Seth go back to hitting one another with slugging moves while you and Becky are both on the floor in your respective corners. You manage to get your breath and stamina back and climb back onto the ring apron. Solo and Seth are still busy duking it out so you decide to try and run some interference.

"Becky!" You climb back down to the floor and come around to Becky's corner.

Becky whips her head around toward you and the two of you rush each other. You hop onto the steel steps as you come around the corner and propel yourself toward Becky. You raise your arm and hit Becky with a flying forearm that grounds you both.

Now on the floor, you and Becky go buck-wild and start trading some nasty blows. You get a few hits in before Becky manages to get you hard in the nose with a graze of her elbow. You hear a crunch noise as she hits you and feel liquid start gushing from your nostrils soon after.

"Shit!" You gasp and reach for your face as Becky rolls off of you.

You sit up and touch your nose, instantly feeling warm liquid cover your fingertips. You pull your hand back and sure enough, blood is thickly smeared all over your fingers.

One of the officials sitting in the time-keepers area rushes to your side when he spots the blood and Becky backs off of you.

"Are you alright?" The referee kneels down at your side.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." You assure him and get to your feet.

You wipe the blood oozing from your nose with your forearm and shake your head to readjust yourself. "Can you continue?" The official asks you and you nod.

The commotion outside the ring catches Solo's attention and he moves over to the side of the ring to get a look at what's going down. "YN?" He calls out to you with concern when he spots the blood smeared all over your face.

Distracted by you on the floor, Solo doesn't have time to react to Seth's next attack. Seth kicks Solo's knee in and hits a stomp before rolls Solo up for the pin. You jump forward and try to break the pin in the ring, but Becky grabs your arm and stops you.

The bell rings signaling that the match is over and it dawns on you that you and Solo have lost the match.

"Shit. Are you kidding me?!" You turn and shove Becky off of you.

Becky laughs, uttering a quick, "Better luck next time, lass." As she climbs into the ring.

Solo rolls out of the ring and you come around to meet him. "Crap. I'm sorry, Solo." You apologize. "I should have been quicker getting into the ring to stop the pin." You huff in frustration.

"Is your nose alright?" Is the first question out of Solo's mouth as you come up on him.

"Yeah, yeah." You nod. "Becky got me with a pretty gnarly elbow." You explain. "It's not bleeding anymore, is it?" You go to touch your nose again.

Solo steps toward you and sets a hand on your cheek to tilt your head upwards. "No, it's stopped now." He pulls his hand back after a moment. "Feeling lightheaded at all?"

"Now that you mention it." You joke and rub the back of your head. "I'm kidding! Just kidding!" You laugh when Solo's face flashes with concern.

The two of you head backstage while Seth and Becky are presented with their shiny new trophy. You both trudge to the backstage waiting area where a couple of the medical staff are waiting to look at you. They usher you into the trainers room to look you over and Solo follows.

After you've been looked at and cleared of any serious injuries you and Solo take a moment to catch your breath and reflect.

"Well, this was one hell of a run!" You muse to yourself with a small smile.

"Yeah, it was." Solo agrees with a hint of a smile. "So, I guess this is it, then?" He turns and holds his hand out for a handshake.

You glance down at Solo's hand, an odd bittersweet feeling washing over you. "I guess so." You nod and shake his hand.

An awkward tension fills the air and your gaze meet's Solo's, your hands still clasped together. Then, the door to the trainers room bursts open, your brother coming through it like a man on a mission.

"YN!?" Cody frantically scans the room before landing on you and Solo. "Your nose! Are you alright?" He rushes to your side.

You pull your hand back from Solo's quickly as Cody rushes to you. He clasps his hands on your shoulders and starts inspecting you feverously.

"I'm okay, Cody." You assure your brother. "Really. So you can back up a little, please." You push his chest and get him to back up a bit.

"Right." Cody nods and takes a step back. "It's really him I should be talking to." He turns to Solo with a sour expression. "Some partner you are, Sikoa! Letting my sister get her face busted up like that."

You scoff and grab your brother by the shoulder. "Knock it off, Cody!" You scold him. "It wasn't Solo's fault and you know it!"

"Whatever." Cody sneers. "This was the finals. Which means you and my sister are done, Sikoa. Got it? She doesn't have to tolerate you anymore." He shoots Solo an accusatory glance.

"Alright!" You grab your brothers shirt and yank him back toward you. "That's enough! Out! I'll be there in a minute!" You shove him toward the door.

Cody mumbles to himself but steps out into the hall. You wait until he shuts the door before turning back to Solo. "Sorry about him. He can be...well, a lot." You sigh.

"It's alright." Solo chuckles.

"Hey!" You perk up at the unfamiliar sound. "I knew it! I told you when we started this tournament that I'd get you to laugh at least once!" You remind him with a wide grin.

Solo holds back another chuckle and nods. "You got me." He admits defeat. "Congratulations, YN."

"You take care of yourself, mister broody enforcer." You reply and step forward with your arms out for a hug.

"Yeah, you too." Solo agrees and surprisingly lets you hug him. "Take care, Goldie. I'll be seeing you around on Smackdown." He adds.

Your hug is one of lose lingering ones you see in movies all the time. But it does eventually come to an end. You give Solo once last soft smile before exiting the room to meet up with your drama-queen of a brother.

Solo watches you disappear behind the door with a bitter-sweet smile on his face. It's over. Now you go back to the natural order of things. A Rhodes and a Bloodline member. Natural-born enemies.

That's how it has to be.

That's all it will ever be.

Right?

#wrestling #wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fanfic #wwe x reader #wwe fandom #wrestling fandom #solo sikoa #solo sikoa x reader #syd's wrestling fics #the bloodline #rhodes reader

177 notes · View notes

waratah-moon · 2 years

Text

Gremlin

Four times Dustin was clueless, and the one time Lucas spelled it out for him. Shout out to @lfaewrites for proofreading & encouragement!

masterlist / read on ao3 < bonus smutty drabble posted there ;) I Think We’re Alone Now < smut add on

Pairing: dad!Eddie x mom!reader

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Teen pregnancy (not elaborated on), cheerleader!reader, shitty parents, enemies to friends platonic!steddie Steal my writing and I will hex you

1. Eddie’s trailer

Eddie opened the door of his trailer and was very surprised to see Dustin Henderson on his doorstep.

Dustin didn't wait to be invited inside, pushing past a bewildered Eddie, “do you have my book report? I lost it after the last Hellfire meeting and I really don't want to rewrite it."

He'd never been inside Eddie's trailer before. It was slightly cluttered but in a homey-lived-in kind of way. The walls were lined with baseball caps, and a collection of novelty mugs hung above the couch.

“What, no hello? You need to work on your manners, Henderson.”

“Sorry,” Dustin looked around the living room, taking in an array of stuffed animals on one end of the couch and a pile of picture books on the coffee table. He wasn’t about to judge what Eddie Munson did in his spare time. “Nice place. Do you have my book report?”

"The one on Grapes of Wrath? I wondered who that belonged to. Let me find it," Eddie disappeared into what Dustin could only assume was his bedroom.

Dustin looked around the trailer, eyes landing on a couple of baby photos that he guessed were of Eddie. He stepped forward to get a closer look, but stopped when he felt something under his foot; it was a small toy that looked a lot like the Muppet Babies version of Fozzie Bear. Before he could investigate further, the phone rang.

Eddie came racing out of his room and breathlessly answered the phone. "Hello?" He waited for the person on the other end to respond, a smile crossing his face when they answered. “I mean, maybe. How difficult is it?” Eddie was grinning now and Dustin could swear he was twirling the phone cord like a teenage girl. “I think I can manage that. How did Gremlin do?”

Eddie's smile turned to a soft pout. He spotted Dustin out of the corner of his eye and turned away, “I’ll see you soon, okay?” Dustin heard him mumble something into the receiver, but couldn't quite make out the words.

Once Eddie hung up the phone he walked into the kitchen and began fiddling with the knobs on the oven.

“Eddie?” Dustin raised his eyebrows as Eddie pulled a casserole dish out of the freezer and put it on the bench.

“Oh, shit. Your thing. Right. I think I know where it is. It got mixed up with the one shot we did last week,” he disappeared again, and Dustin thought he could see a glimpse of a floral patterned bedspread through the door of his room.

Eddie reappeared and handed him a few pieces of paper. "Thanks, man.” Dustin looked at the casserole dish on the bench. “So what’s for dinner?”

Suddenly, Eddie was herding him out of the trailer, “as much as I’d love for you to stay, I have a hot date.”

2. Family Video

Dustin was sitting behind the counter at family video, something Keith had adamantly stated was not allowed. Steve was the only one working, and he didn't care what Dustin did, just happy to have company during the slow part of his shift. Dustin had brought takeout from the diner up the road, only offering to share his fries when Steve had complained. "C'mon, dude, it's gonna stink of fast food in here."

The door jingled and Steve absentmindedly began his ‘welcome to Family Video’ spiel while twisting a Rubik’s cube, only stopping when he looked up at the woman who’d arrived at the counter.

“Real customer-focused service you’ve got here,” you smiled, hoisting the toddler you were holding higher up on your hip.

“Oh hey!” Steve grinned, ducking down so he was on eye level with the little girl, “how’s my favourite Cabbage Patch Kid doing?”

Cabbage Patch Kid? Dustin thought, pushing his food aside to watch the interaction.

The little girl smiled shyly, hiding her head of dark brown curls into the crook of your neck.

You sighed, “Steve, I’ve told you before, stop insinuating my child looks like a Cabbage Patch Kid.”

“But she has the dimples,” he stood up straighter, poking his tongue out when the little girl showed her face, causing her to emit the world's cutest giggle.

“She gets those from her father, not Coleco,” you kissed your daughter's cheek, smoothing down her unruly hair. “Did Care Bears come in?”

“Sure did,” Steve pulled a tape from the counter below, scanning it.

“Great!” You looked around the store, eyes landing back on Steve. “Can you watch her for a sec while I grab a couple more?”

“‘Course!” Dustin watched as Steve held out his arms and you passed the toddler to him. The little girl’s hands instantly reached to pull for his hair while you darted off to the horror section.

“Not the hair,” Steve groaned, attempting to tilt his head backwards and away from the prying hands.

“Pretty,” the little girl mumbled, tugging a lock of Steve’s hair. Dustin stifled a laugh.

“Me? Why thank you, I think you’re very pretty too, the prettiest little Cabbage Patch Kid around,” he bumped his nose against the toddler’s, kissing her forehead. Dustin gagged.

The scene was adorable, but it went against everything he thought he knew about Steve Harrington.

You'd found what you were looking for and arrived back at the counter, setting down two more tapes; A Nightmare on Elm Street and Splash.

“Interesting double feature,” Steve remarked, the toddler now clutching her arms tightly around his neck, refusing to let go.

“Date night,” you grinned sheepishly, holding out your arms to collect your daughter. Steve attempted to pry her off his neck, but she was clinging on for dear life.

"Seevie stay," she whined, tightening her grip on the man.

Steve scanned the tapes using his free hand, seemingly unfazed. “Oh, did you hear about Ethan Carroway?”

You dug around in your purse, finding the correct amount of money to pay for the tapes, “and Ivy Tech? I know! How dumb can you be?” You handed over cash.

“I mean, he seemed like the type though, right?” He put the tapes in a plastic bag, a bit of a challenge with only one hand but he managed, handing the bag across the counter to you.

You hummed in agreement. “Some people just don’t change. Others surprise you,” you smiled, taking in the sight of 'King Steve' Harrington pulling faces at your two year old. "C'mon Gremlin, let's get home and see if Dad taped Muppet Babies."

"Aminal?" Your daughter loosened her grip on Steve and looked at you.

"Yep," you held out your arms and she finally let Steve pass her back. You smiled at the man behind the counter. “Thanks Steve, I’ll see you later.”

"See ya," Steve called after you as you exited the store.

Dustin was gobsmacked, his mouth hanging open as he watched Steve go back to fiddling with the Rubik's cube on the counter.

"What the hell was that?" Steve jumped when Dustin spoke, seeming to have forgotten about the young teen's presence.

He managed to keep his cool, nonchalant tone, "what was what?"

"Were you just flirting with her?"

"What?!" Steve sounded offended. "With her? Of course not."

"She has a kid, Steve."

"I know," Steve had turned to look at Dustin now, leaning with his back against the register. "She has a boyfriend too. We went to high school together. She was a cheerleader, I was on the basketball team. We're friends."

"I didn't know you had other friends," Dustin cocked his eyebrow with a grin. He vaguely remembered his mom gossiping with Mrs. Wheeler about a cheerleader who got pregnant a few years ago.

Steve rolled his eyes, turning back to face the front door, "and you don't know as much about your friends as you think you do, Henderson."

Dustin frowned, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"Eat your burger."

3. Max’s trailer

Storm clouds hung over Hawkins, and rain had been attempting to sprinkle all morning. Riding their bikes all the way to the Forest Hill Trailer Park probably wasn't the smartest idea, but it was Dustin and Lucas's only mode of transport since Steve decided to pick up more shifts at Family Video.

They pulled up to Max’s trailer, the wheels of their bikes spitting up gravel as they skidded to a halt. Max had watched them ride up from the window, and she was already standing in the doorway when they reached the porch.

“What are you two doing here?”

“We were wondering if you wanted to see a movie, or go to the arcade," Lucas asked, he always sounded nervous talking to Max.

"Or do anything," Dustin added. "We're so bored." It was true. Mike was on his weekly phone call to El, and since the mall had burnt down the activities in Hawkins had become severely limited.

“I can’t," she had her headphones slung around the base of her neck, her trusty Walkman in her hand. "I’m babysitting.”

"Babysitting? Since when do you babysit?" Dustin peered over her shoulder inside the trailer, but Max moved to block his view. Over her shoulder he could see an animated movie playing on the TV, it looked like the Care Bears.

“Since we moved in here,” she shrugged.

“Huh?”

"I like her parents, they're cool, so I offered to look after Gremlin whenever they wanted some alone time. Plus her mom always brings over cookies. This time it’s peanut butter chocolate."

"You offered?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" She squinted, her tone accusatory.

"Kind of, yeah," Dustin said, groaning when Lucas elbowed him in the ribcage.

“What Dustin means is that you seem to have other interests that don’t coincide with babysitting.”

Max rolled her eyes, moving to put her headphones back on.

“Wait! Can we at least come in and hang out?”

“Nope. I’ve got other interests that don’t coincide with hanging out,” her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she shut the door in their faces.

Lucas sighed, but Dustin was already making his way to the trailer opposite Max’s.

“What are you doing?” Lucas watched, before quickly following after his friend.

“Eddie’s home, his van is out front.”

“And there's another car next to it, he has someone over," Lucas added, pointing at the red Ford Fairmont parked next to the van.

But Dustin was already knocking on the trailer door to listen to Lucas.

The door swung open, revealing a flushed and wild haired Eddie. His eyes were dark, and his tee-shirt was on inside out; when he took in that it was Dustin at the door, his expression turned from annoyed to pissed.

"Henderson? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"We were in the area," he started, turning to see that Lucas had not joined him on the porch but had stopped halfway between Eddie and Max's trailer. He continued, "do you want to hang out?"

"I'm a bit busy right now, dude," Eddie folded his arms across his chest, still glaring at Dustin.

"Do you have a girl over?" Dustin tried to peer into the trailer but only managed to spot a bowl of popcorn and a couple of VHS tapes on the coffee table.

Eddie rolled his eyes, "sure let's go with that. Are we done here?" He started to shut the door, but Dustin stuck his arm out.

"Wait! Who is it? Is it Shelley Keibler? She was totally flirting with you at lunch last week."

Eddie looked disgusted, "ugh, no, dude. She buys from me and she was flirting to get a discount; which I didn't give her, by the way."

"Then who?"

"Don't worry about it, Henderson. I’ll see you on Monday." He grinned and shut the door.

4. Hawkins High

Dustin thought Eddie was acting strange. He hadn’t said anything about Dustin’s ill timed visit when he saw him on Monday, and he hadn’t been in the cafeteria at lunch on Tuesday or Wednesday. Mike had sworn he’d seen Eddie in the library when he’d gone to get money off his sister. He seemed back to his old loud, rambunctious self on Thursday, but during Hellfire on Friday he was constantly watching the clock. When the clock struck 6pm, he was packing up, even though they were in the middle of a high tension fight.

“I’m sorry guys, I have places to be.”

“Where?”

“Oh, that little bar on the corner of nunya and business,” he grinned, stuffing his binders in his bag.

Dustin followed him out to the parking lot, expecting to watch him get in his van and drive off. Instead he was greeted with the same red Fairmont coupe that had been parked in front of his trailer.

The following week proceeded much the same as the week prior, except this week Eddie cancelled Hellfire. And Eddie never cancelled Hellfire. The table erupted in disgruntled yelling when he broke the news over lunch on Friday, but he just sat back in silence, letting the members spit their disdain.

Dustin finally got a chance to speak with Eddie after school was let out, catching up to him in the parking lot as he was leaving.

“What’s going on? Why are you suddenly acting all weird?”

Eddie sighed, looking over at the red Ford that was parked next to Steve’s BMW. “You do know I have a life outside high school and Hellfire, right? I don’t only exist to further your quest, Henderson.”

“I know that-”

“I’ve been busy, alright? I’ve got some stuff going on.” He studied Dustin’s face, as if he was trying to figure out damage caused by a d20. “Look there’s a one shot I’ve been working on,” he grabbed a notebook out of his bag, ripped out a page, and scribbled something down before handing it to Dustin. “Come to this address tomorrow night, 7pm. Bring Wheeler and Sinclair.”

+1. Hellfire Club

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas weren’t sure where they were going, but surprisingly Steve did. In fact Steve hadn’t put up any kind of fight when Dustin asked if he could drive them somewhere for DnD. Sure he’d sighed, but that sigh was quickly followed by a shrug and a “sure.”

Steve pulled up in front of a small one story house, parking his car behind Gareth’s. Two cars were already in the driveway, a two-toned station wagon, and the red Ford Fairmont that seemed to be everywhere.

Eddie swung the door open, a grin on his face. “You’re here!” He glanced over the boys in front of him before his eyes landed on Steve. “Harrington?”

Steve held his hands up. “Don’t worry, I’m just dropping them off. Thought I’d say hi.” He pointed to the station wagon in the driveway. “Is that your new car?” Eddie nodded and Steve added, “a wagon. Very sensible.”

“I’ll have you know that’s a ‘74 AMC Matador. It has a V8 401 engine, 230 horsepower-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, I have no idea what any of that means.”

“You drive an E23. Dude, a 733i!”

“Doesn’t mean I know anything about it,” Steve shrugged. “Finally traded in the van for a family car, hey?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and turned into the house. “Babe, Harrington’s here,” he called out, before turning back to glare at Steve.

After a moment, you appeared behind Eddie, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Steve, hey!” Dustin recognised you instantly as the woman from Family Video.

“Hey,” Steve smiled, giving you a little wave. “Wanted to see your new place.”

“Can you stay for a soda? I’ll give you the tour.”

Before Steve could move into the house, Dustin held his arm out to stop him. “Uh,” Dustin looked from you, to Steve, to Eddie, and finally to Mike and Lucas. “What’s going on?”

“Oh right! You guys haven’t met,” Eddie wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side, and introduced you to the teens. “This is my girlfriend.”

Once the shock had worn off, Eddie had led the boys inside to the dining room table, where the older Hellfire members were already sitting. You lead Steve in the other direction, making good on your promise of a house tour.

“So this is your place?” Mike took in the surroundings; they were sitting in a dining room that was attached to a small kitchen. Various picture frames dotted the walls and a large potted plant sat next to the china cabinet.

“Yep, we moved in last weekend. The trailer was getting too crowded now that Gremlin’s decided to grow into a tiny human,” Mike had no idea what Eddie was talking about, but Eddie sounded horribly offended at the idea of Gremlin growing. “We’ve been planning the move for ages, but we finally had enough money to do it. Wayne seemed sad to see us go, but I think he’s happy to have the place to himself. Kind of annoying we lost Mayfield as a babysitter, though.”

Dustin seemed to have a faint inkling as to what Eddie was talking about, “I saw your girlfriend at Family Video a few weeks ago with her daughter.”

As if this was the craziest news in the world, Mike blurted out, “a kid?” His eyes darted around the room, finally taking in the several picture frames embedded with the image of a curly haired toddler.

“Yeah, Eddie’s girlfriend has a kid,” Dustin said casually, proud that he’d figured out this fact about his mentor before Mike. “It’s pretty cool you’re a stepdad.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, but Gareth, Jeff, and Grant just laughed. “Stepdad ? Henderson, no, no, no.”

Lucas shook his head, pointing to the closest picture frame; the little toddler was sitting on Eddie’s shoulders, her fingers gripping his dark brown curls, identical to her own unruly mess of hair. She looked like a mini version of him, both had mischief gleaming in their chocolate button eyes. “That’s obviously his kid.”

Like a sign from above signifying the revelation, an egg timer went off in the kitchen.

Dustin choked on his soda. “You have a kid? How did that happen?”

Lucas whacked him on the back, attempting to stop his friend's spluttering. “How do you think it happened, dipshit?” It seemed to work.

“No,” the tips of Dustin’s ears turned pink, his voice still hoarse. “I meant-”

“You want the story,” Eddie grinned, and Gareth, Jeff, and Grant groaned. He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. “Settle in boys, for this is a tale for the ages.”

Gareth snorted, “What the hell are you talking about? Indie is the product of too much alcohol and an expired condom.”

“Excuse me, but Gremlin was born from an epic love story that crossed not only class barriers, but changed Hawkins society as we know it.”

Steve entered the dining room with a can of cola, you following close behind him.

“Babe,” you rolled your eyes, having heard the conversation. You set a plate of pizza rolls down in front of the boys. “I think Gareth is a little closer to the truth. It wasn’t West Side Story .”

“You don’t think our story is romantic?”

“Our story? Sure. Teen pregnancy? Not so much.” Steve snorted.

Dustin had calmed down a bit, but he still had a lot of questions. “Wait, I’m confused. Steve said you were a cheerleader. How did you get with Eddie? You’re way out of his league.”

Surprisingly, Eddie didn’t look offended, instead he pulled you into his lap and tucked his chin over your shoulder, looking at the young teens. “You’re dead right, Henderson, she is way out of my league.” You scoffed, ready to disagree with him but he cut you off, “do you want to tell the story, babe?”

You adjusted yourself so you were sitting on Eddie’s thigh, his hands firmly gripping your waist. “My family moved to Hawkins at the start of my sophomore year. I didn’t really notice Eddie much that first year, he was a junior and we ran in very different circles.”

“I noticed her though. Straight away. Especially when she wore her cheer uniform-”

You flicked him on the shoulder, continuing with your story. “Anyway, school was out for the summer. Remember the heatwave in ‘83? I was driving down Millbrook and it was at least 100 degrees outside and the hood of my car started smoking. So I pulled over and began freaking out, because you know Millbrook, it’s all farmland and there’s no one around for miles.”

“But I just happened to be driving down Millbrook.”

“Yeah, Eddie was my knight in a Metallica cut off. He figured out what was wrong with my car, drove us to the auto shop, bought whatever it was that my car needed and fixed it for me.”

“It was super easy, she’d just run out of-”

You cut him off before he could begin to ramble about cars and the importance of checking the coolant level. “I bought him a milkshake to thank him and we’ve been together ever since.”

“And your kid?” Mike asked through a mouthful of pizza rolls.

“Gareth wasn’t far off. Pretty sure it happened after the homecoming dance that Eddie refused to attend. He snuck in my window when I got home with a bottle of peppermint schnapps and…” you drifted off, noticing the wide eyes at the table, as well as Steve's smirk. “I’ll spare you the details. Nine months later Indie was born.”

"Indie? Like Indiana?" Lucas asked, he wouldn’t admit it but the story was romantic.

"No, Indie like Indigo. Indigo Ripley Munson," Eddie said proudly, and you smiled. He'd snuck Ripley on the birth certificate before you could protest, but you had to admit your daughter couldn't ask for a better role model than the badass heroine from Alien.

It was as if her name summoned her. A bleary eyed toddler in pink footie pajamas entered the dining room, rubbing her eyes.

“Hi sweet pea,” you hoped off Eddie’s thigh, picking up your daughter and smoothing her hair. “Did we wake you?”

“Not tired,” she said, instantly contradicting herself by yawning. “Want Dadda to tell me a story,” she pushed away from you, reaching for Eddie. “With princesses.”

As much as you wanted to be her favourite, it warmed your heart knowing how much she loved her Dad.

Eddie held out his arms to take her from you and she instantly snuggled against him. "Dad’s playing a game with his friends, do you want to listen? There’s no princesses but there are lots of monsters." She nodded, smiling.

You knew it was futile to try and get her to go back to sleep now that Eddie had promised her a story. Knowing Eddie it would be a gory and violent story, but having sat in on many of Hellfire's campaigns, Indie was used to it. You thought it was creepy that she was enamoured with monsters, Eddie thought it was adorable.

You crouched down next to Eddie so you were on eye level with your daughter. "See those boys over there? That's Dustin, Lucas, and Mike. Do you want to say hi?"

She stuck out her bottom lip, contemplating the question before shaking her head. Dustin grinned, he liked this kid, she had spirit.

"How did you manage graduating with a kid? I mean Eddie obviously didn't," Mike said. The table went silent. Surprisingly, it was Steve that spoke up.

"He could have graduated, he just chose to put his family first, right Munson?"

Eddie looked at Steve and smiled. You stood up to glare at Mike, "Steve's right, Eddie should have graduated in '84, but he had different priorities that year."

Turning his attention to Mike, Eddie sighed, “My first senior year was when we found out about the pregnancy. My uncle got me a job working nights at the plant, so I slept through most of my morning classes. But the money was good and we were able to afford most of the stuff we needed for a new baby without asking for help. But I failed pretty much all my classes.”

You nodded. “My parents cut me off when they found out we were keeping the baby. They already hated that I was with Eddie and were looking for a reason to disown me; teen pregnancy was it. So aside from the secondhand stuff we got from the Holts’ and the Mitchells’, and that Wayne never made us pay rent, we did it pretty much all on our own. Eddie’s second senior year was also my senior year, but it was our first year with Indie too.”

“I didn’t want her skipping class, she’s too smart to not graduate. So I stayed home with Gremlin. Wayne helped out when he could, but I still managed to miss most of my classes.”

“But now, I have a job that lets us afford daycare and rent, and Eddie’s been working real hard at school. You know what they say, third times the charm.”

“This is my year, I can feel it.”

“Damn right, babe.” You leant down to kiss his cheek. “And Indie and I will be right there cheering you on when you cross that stage.”

It was all too much for Dustin to handle, hearing about this part of Eddie’s life; his girlfriend, his daughter, his connection to Steve. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. He was filled with a newfound desire to protect his friend; he had a family to think about after all, hell he’d traded in his ratty old van for a station wagon.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dustin wasn’t sure if he felt more hurt or betrayed that Eddie had kept such a big part of his life a secret.

“I never hid it, Henderson, you just never asked.”

Dustin thought back to what Steve had said all those weeks ago, ‘you don't know as much about your friends as you think you do.’ He was right, Dustin didn’t know that much about Eddie. He knew he was in a band and liked metal music, but he hadn’t asked him much in the way of personal questions.

“I’m sorry Eddie, I-”

Eddie cut him off with a lazy grin, “Relax, Dustin, we’ve got the rest of the year right?” For some reason the use of his first name instantly put Dustin at ease. He let out a breath and smiled at Eddie. “Now are we playing?”

“And that’s our cue,” you nodded at Steve, leaving the boys and Indie to their game.

Later that night, after everyone had gone home and Indie was finally tucked up in bed, Eddie said something that surprised you.

“I think we should make Steve Indie’s godfather.”

“What? You’re not religious.”

“No, I know. I don’t mean it in the whole ‘teaching faith’ way. I just,” he ran his hand through his hair. “I know he’s important to you, and he loves Indie. If something was to happen to us, I know he’d take good care of her.”

“I think that’s a great idea, babe. Is this about what he said to Wheeler?”

Eddie’s cheeks flushed, he hadn’t wanted to admit that Steve’s approval had affected him. “Maybe.”

You grinned. Steve had been your friend for a long time, since you first moved to Hawkins. You’d known him through his douchebag phase, and you were his only friend from his high school days he’d kept in touch with since he’d mellowed out. But he and Eddie had never gotten along; Eddie was too loud and brash, and Steve still held an air of elitism that although he’d mostly gotten rid of, still reared its ugly head whenever Eddie was around.

Today, though, the two of them somewhat made an attempt at a truce. “How about we invite him for lunch and ask him?”

Eddie groaned, “ugh, can’t you just ask him?”

“It was your idea!”

“Fine, we’ll do it together.”

Baby steps.

Okay okay... I would really appreciate feedback as I worked my ass off on this one. And guys... I was so nervous my mum read this... that's the first time she's read my writing since I was in high school. @a-lil-pr1ncess @livsters

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie x mom!reader #eddie munson smut #maggie writes #Eddie Munson gremlinverse #dad!eddie

1K notes · View notes

melodygatesauthor · 1 year

Text

Always Yours, Never Mine

Yandere Miguel O'Hara X f!Reader

Universe Two - The Barista

Series Masterlist - Beta Read by @campingwiththecharmings

Summary

I didn’t even test the DNA analysis module on the watch before I left my universe. Idiotic? Definitely, but I was so excited by the thought of seeing you again that I didn’t care. So I tested it when I got to the new universe, using the watch to scan one of your hairs and then using that data to track you down…I can't believe I found you again.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, dub-con due to identity issues, non-con, rape, More tags on the masterlist.

Word Count: 5.4k

It was a morning like every other.

You opened your eyes to the sound of your alarm blaring next to you. You hit the snooze button, probably too harshly, before promptly burying your face in your palms. Sometimes you thought that if you just laid there long enough, all your responsibilities would disappear. A moment later, the alarm went off again, reminding you that it was time to get up, for real this time. After fantasizing about ripping it from the wall and breaking it into a thousand pieces, you turned it off and rolled out of bed.

You stepped out into the living room, smelling the coffee brewing in the pot already. Your step-sister, and roommate, Emily, was flipping through the channels on the tv in the living room.

“Mornin’,” you mumbled, grabbing the hot cup she’d left for you on the breakfast bar.

“Morning!” She turned around to face you while you sipped from your mug. “The ‘rents wanted to go out for dinner tonight, you in?”

You groaned, trudging over to the armchair in the living room and sitting down, taking another sip of your coffee. You stared at the television idly, not really taking any of it in. You thought about your impending workday. You sighed heavily, the idea of ending your long day by having dinner with your parents exhausting.

“I don’t really want to, I’m gonna be tired after work but…I guess I can pull myself together for a couple hours.”

“Thanks, I don’t really wanna go alone.” She sniffed out a laugh, “you should bring that guy you’ve been seeing, might be a good time for them to meet him.”

You gave her the look. The look that said, ‘no way in hell am I introducing him to our parents’.

“I’m not ready to subject him to that just yet.”

“Fair,” she said with a shrug, turning the volume up on the tv and thus ending the conversation.

You finished your coffee before getting yourself ready for the day. You looked in the mirror on your bedroom door, adjusting your nametag pinned through your apron next to the Moonbean Coffee logo. The company aprons felt so frumpy on your frame and you hated the shade of brown the owner had picked out, but you supposed it was better than not having a job to begin with.

“See ya later!” You said on your way out.

You arrived just before seven for your shift. Your co-workers, Stacy and Mira, were there already, baking sweets and brewing coffee for the morning rush. You flipped the “open” sign around and went behind the counter in preparation for the under-caffeinated stampede. Stacy always made some comment to you about ‘opening the floodgates’ whenever you came in, since that was always the moment customers started pouring in.

You were sweaty by the end of the rush. It felt to you like that was often the time that he seemed to make his appearance. You’d talked to him about it before, telling him to come in first thing with the other customers if he wanted you to look your best. ‘You always look your best, hermosa’, he’d say, suave as ever.

Miguel walked in. The smell of coffee hit him like a ton of bricks, but then so did your face.

It had been a year and a half since he’d seen you. A fucking year and a half. His breath caught in his chest and his lips parted slightly. He felt like he was seeing you for the first time. In some weird way, he was seeing you for the first time. This version of you anyway.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you gonna come get your coffee?” You giggled and started making his usual cup.

There was that sound again.

He thought he’d never hear your laugh for the rest of his days. In his universe, he’d replayed videos of when you were alive over and over to take the edge off, but nothing compared to the real thing when it hit his ears. He watched you make his coffee. You’d made it wrong, but he’d expected that when traveling to another dimension things wouldn’t always be quite right. He didn’t care, as long as he found the universe where you lived; that’s all that mattered to him.

“Are you gonna say something or just stare at me?” You laughed at him nervously.

“I’m sorry I’m just…having a rough morning,” he held up his cup, “haven’t had my coffee yet,” he said jokingly.

You’d thought about Emily’s suggestion to have him join you and your parents for dinner, and figured she was right. You liked this guy. This impossibly tall, broad, and handsome physicist who seemed to be smitten with you no matter how gross you looked after a long shift at the coffee shop.

“I’ve been thinking, and no obligation if you don’t want to, I understand, but…my parents invited my step-sister and me out for dinner tonight and…” You trailed off, feeling nervous, “do you…would you wanna–”

“Yes, I’d love to,” he blurted out.

He felt like such an idiot. It wasn’t like him to get flustered like this, but something about you made him feel like the space between his ears was filled with nothing but hot air. He saw you press your lips together bashfully, and noticed the way your eyes seemed to sparkle when you looked at him. You’d always told him that he was special to you; that he was different from other guys you’d dated, he’d just never paid attention to the small details like this back then.

“Great, it’s at the new steak place up the road from here. Six pm, please don’t be late,” you said in a pleading tone.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”

There were customers coming in and he decided it was time for him to go. He had a dinner date to get ready for afterall. The fluttering in his stomach from seeing you wasn’t something he’d felt in a long time, and he’d missed it. It was hard to break away, but he kissed the back of your hand and started to leave anyway.

“Hey!” You shouted.

He turned back around, “Hm?”

“No kiss?” You put your hands on your hips.

You…you wanted a…

He gulped. “S-sorry, thinking about work,” he lied.

He walked up to you and leaned over the counter and you took his face in your hands.

You touched him. It had been so long since you’d touched him.

You pressed your lips to his softly, and for a moment, he tensed. Once he relaxed, he leaned in, parting his lips and melting them against yours. He never thought he’d kiss you again. Miguel sighed with joyous relief when the kiss broke, choking back the tears that threatened to fall.

“See you later,” you said, patting his wide chest before watching him walk away.

As Miguel stepped outside and started down the sidewalk, he passed someone on his left. It didn’t hit him right away until he realized that the man was as unnaturally tall as himself. Miguel stopped dead in his tracks, looking back at the man as he headed toward the coffee shop he’d just walked out of. It was…oh no…

You looked up from the coffee cup you were putting someone’s name on to see Miguel come back inside. You smirked and let out a chuckle.

“Forget something?” You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure why he’d returned. He had a huge smile as he walked up to you and leaned against the counter.

“Hola, hermosa,” he said, “I’ll take my usual, if you don’t mind.”

“What…?” you felt uneasy.

Lots of people had memory problems right? You and Miguel had only been dating for a couple months, so you didn’t know all there was to know about him. Maybe he suffered from short term memory loss or something. Not to mention, you knew he was a scientist. It was possible he’d suffered some brain injury in the lab or something…right? You couldn’t be sure, but your intuition was telling you that something was off; stupidly, you ignored it.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, looking at you with concern.

You cleared your throat, “Yeah, yes I’m fine.”

You faked a smile and made his coffee…again. When you handed it to him he smiled and sipped it. That’s when you realized he wasn’t wearing the same outfit he was wearing when he’d walked out of there just a moment earlier. Something wasn’t right. Were you losing your mind? Maybe he wasn’t the one with memory issues.

Miguel was a genius on paper. He could make a device that allowed him to travel the multiverse with only one minor flaw, but that didn’t mean he was immune to idiocy. He’d just watched that universe’s version of himself walk by and go right into the coffee shop where you worked. How could he be so stupid? If there was a version of you in every universe, then it was reasonable to assume that there would be a version of himself in every universe as well.

He had to do something about the doppelganger. Miguel couldn’t let him get in the way. He couldn’t let someone else, even if it was just an alternate version of himself, take you from him.

Later that evening, you were dressed and ready for dinner. You’d managed to shrug off the weird encounter you’d had with Miguel earlier, and decided that you would wait to bring it up after dinner with your parents, if at all. You really liked him, and didn’t want to mess it up over something as silly as his, or your own, forgetfulness.

You shook your head free of the thoughts that plagued you. It was just Miguel. Normal, loving, caring Miguel that you’d known and enjoyed spending time with over the last couple of months. With a sigh, you left, heading to the restaurant where your parents were already sitting with your step-sister. You decided to wait outside for him to arrive, having texted Emily earlier to let her know that you’d changed your mind about inviting Miguel after all.

God you looked beautiful.

Miguel felt a swell in his chest as he walked toward you on the sidewalk. You hadn’t noticed him yet. You were wearing a simple black dress that hugged your body nicely. You looked like you again. This was how you’d dressed in his universe when he would take you out somewhere nice. So fucking pretty.

When you finally noticed Miguel’s lingering gaze, you felt flustered. You tried to compose yourself as he approached, calming your fluttering stomach. You didn’t want to look like a bumbling idiot, not only in front of him, but in front of your parents too.

You cleared your throat when he got closer, “Ready?”

He nodded, looking down at you, “Oh you bet.”

“Oh! You’ve got something on your…” you furrowed your brow, eyes catching on a small red smear just below his ridiculously sharp cheek bone. “I’ll get it.”

You licked your thumb and wiped the mark off his face. He smirked until he saw your thumb covered in crimson. His mind flashed back to the events that had taken place over the last couple of hours…

Miguel was waiting silently behind a wall in the kitchen, having snuck into his alternate’s apartment, watching Miguel trying to decide what tie he was going to wear to dinner with your parents in a few hours. He felt bad for a second, knowing that if this man loved you even a fraction of the amount that he did, this would be disheartening when he realized he was going to die before he got to truly love you.

For someone normally so meticulous, Miguel hadn’t really thought this through. He’d rushed to follow the man home after his meeting with you at the coffee shop, and kept an eye on him throughout the day to get a feeling for his lifestyle so he could attempt to mimic it once he eliminated this universe’s version of himself.

The time had come for Miguel to kill his other self, and nothing could stop him now that he’d come this far. There was one perk to killing his alternate: even if someone discovered the body, or some poorly disposed of evidence, all the DNA would lead back to one person…himself. So it didn’t matter if he slit his own throat, snapped his own neck, or shot himself in the head. No one would ever know.

Miguel had never killed anyone before, but the more he thought about this other man - despite that ‘other man’ being himself - touching you, the angrier he got. He couldn’t bear the idea that you, his precious girl, might be giving someone else attention, and those thoughts alone were enough to fuel the fire that brought him to the brink of murder.

Miguel must’ve been so confused. For him it probably seemed like a normal evening at first. He probably had no idea he was about to die. He was going to shower, probably stress a little bit about how to impress your parents, and then start getting ready for the dinner date. It was all normal, until the shower curtain opened and he was greeted by his doppelganger who delivered several stab wounds to the man’s chest.

Miguel wondered what his other self was thinking in those last moments as the life faded from his eyes.

Cleanup took a while, but not so long that he couldn’t make it in time for dinner. Now he was in a predicament. You were standing there with blood on your thumb and a curious look on your face.

“Must’ve nicked myself shaving,” he chucked, rubbing his hand over his jaw, “Thank you, mi vida.”

He leaned in and kissed you, and despite him calling you ‘mi vida’, something he’d never called you before, you kissed him back. Regardless of the red flags flying in your face, you took his hand, smiled and walked into the restaurant with him to meet your parents.

Charming as always, Miguel impressed them with ease. It was like he knew them. He acted as though he were meeting up with old friends rather than meeting his girlfriend’s parents for the first time. It was so hard to find someone they actually liked so you threw every red flag of the day out the window and decided to move on. It was that simple.

When you asked Miguel to go back to his place that evening, instead of going to your own apartment, he was thrilled. He didn’t even wait for you to get your shoes off before he had you lifted off the ground, legs around his thick torso and pinned against the wall. He hadn’t felt the wet heat of your cunt in well over a year and he was desperate.

You’d never heard him like this, so primal and hungry. His heaving breathing was almost like a low growl. He lifted up the skirt of your dress, large hands grabbing onto your hips while his mouth left heavy kisses on your neck. You didn’t care if he was acting strangely, it felt so good that it didn’t matter.

He brought you to the bedroom and fell onto the mattress with you, hovering over your body while his hands continued their exploration. He was reveling in the delicious feeling of your soft skin; the skin he hadn’t touched in too long. He was loving the taste of you, it was almost the same…close enough anyway. He wanted to taste more of you.

He pulled down the strap of your dress and bra in one motion, exposing your breast. Miguel bit his lip and looked up at you, eyes full of a dark lust. You gasped when he brought his lips over the peak, rolling his tongue around the hardened, sensitive skin there. You brought both of your hands to his shoulders, squeezing them tightly, though you knew it probably felt like nothing to the overly muscular man. He flicked his tongue over you one more time before looking up again.

Miguel wanted to taste something else he hadn’t tasted in far too long, so he kept working his way down, lifting your skirt and hooking a finger under your delicate lace panties.

“You wore these just for me, didn’t you, hermosa?”

He used both hands to rip the thin fabric covering your already glistening, slick folds. He used one thick finger, sliding it through your slit and up, brushing over your clit gently. You gasped, throwing your head back. Miguel smirked, letting a dark chuckle escape. The other Miguel hadn’t been so giving with you, had he?

He hadn’t, and you noticed right away that Miguel was acting more focused on your body than before. But when you felt his mouth come down over your mound, warm and soft, you didn’t care. Whatever it was that made him act differently, you were living for it now. Red flags be damned.

“So sweet, mi vida,” he cooed, going back in for more like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

You were delicious, but wasn’t quite the same. There was something a little more sweet about this version of you, but it was alright. He could live with it. You still sounded the same, and you still looked the same, more or less. You grabbed onto the back of his head which made him smile against your folds. The feeling of you touching him made Miguel all the more eager to please you.

Miguel brought one of his thick fingers to your entrance, sliding it in with ease and feeling your cunt flutter around him in response. You whined, arching your hips to take him deeper. One perk to finding this new version of you, was showing himself up in the bedroom. He loved that you were coming undone under him like never before. The original you had been so used to his catering in the bedroom, but this one seemed impressed, and he liked that.

“Mm, hermosa, think you can take another one?” He asked, sliding in another finger to meet the first.

As he started pumping his fingers in and out of you, he noticed how much your body twitched and writhed. So sensitive, this one. He flicked his tongue rapidly over your swollen, needy clit. You were crying out words of affirmation repetitively, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you did. Your legs were shaking against his cheeks.

“Tres?”

He added another finger, and you were a gasping mess at his mercy. Your hole ached with the sweet stretch as he pumped his digits in and out faster. You’ve never known Miguel to do anything like this, but you weren’t complaining. This was the best sex of your life and he was still just playing with you. He curled his fingers, and you cried out, throwing your head back.

“F-fuck! Miguel…!”

He kept going, feeling the way your legs tensed and hearing the way your breathing got even heavier. His eyes trailed over your mound, up your beautiful torso to meet with your heartstopping eyes. You grabbed his hair so tight that he winced, but he didn’t stop lapping over your folds, knowing that you were about to come for him for the first time in a long time.

You’d never had an orgasm so intense it made you go cross-eyed before before, but there you were, shaking so hard you rattled the headboard. Your cunt was gushing and clenching around his fingers while he curled and dragged them over your walls through your climax. You fell back, breathing heavily, but Miguel wasn’t done with you yet.

“Come here honey,” he said in a husky tone, grabbing your hips and pulling you toward him.

Your body was still shaking from your release, and now he was running his length along your folds, collecting your arousal to make it slick. You looked up and saw him biting his lip through your tear blurred vision. You felt his tip prodding at your entrance. He so fucking big.

“Oh baby f-fuck—“

Miguel’s voice was like gravel as he pushed into you slowly, feeling your walls shift to accommodate his size. It had been so long - too long - since he’d felt the vice grip your soft pussy had around his throbbing cock, milking it for every drop you could. You cried out again, the sound hitting his ears like a symphony. He grabbed around your throat, fingers almost touching around the back, pulling you up to sit on him.

“Mm, mi vida,” he mumbled into your sternum.

He spread your ass cheeks, with both large hands, fucking you over his cock with ease. He could hardly get the whole thing inside. Your poor legs were still shaking, struggling to stay up, but he was happy to do the work. Miguel was satisfied enough to just have you in his arms again, in any way he could.

“T-too much Miguel I–”

“Shh honey, sh, I’ve got you,” he cooed, lifting and lowering you with the movement of his hips.

You grabbed onto his shoulders tightly. Miguel had never been so commanding and attentive to you before. He was sliding in so fucking deep that you felt your brain short circuit with every pass. He felt bigger than before, but you knew that was impossible. Your nails dug into the muscle of shoulders, he groaned, voice rough with arousal. He looked up at you.

“Kiss me hermosa.”

You complied, grabbing the back of his head and tangling your fingers in his hair while melting your mouth into his. You started to feel the strength come back to the muscles in your legs so you took over, riding his cock while continuing to kiss him deeply. This wasn’t the first time you and Miguel had been intimate, but you wondered why he’d held back this passion for lovemaking for so long. This was not the same sex you’d had with him just a few nights ago.

Now that his hands were free, he could feel over your entire body, letting the pads of his fingers take in every detail of your skin. It felt so soft, like it always had, smooth and warm. You started moving your hips faster, taking his cock deeper. He could feel your walls fluttering around him again.

“Gonna give me another one already, baby? Hm?” He started nipping at your neck, making you whimper and whine louder.

“Yes, oh yes Miguel!”

He wrapped his arms around you, leaning forward so that you were underneath him. He held you down with his weight, fucking you harder than you could possibly have done if you were still on top. His teeth still continued marking your neck, forcing sharp cries from your perfect lips.

“Yes, that’s my girl, oh god…honey-I-f-fuck…ah!”

Miguel’s hips came to a stuttering halt, cock pumping his hot spend into your tightly clenched cunt. Your walls were crashing over him, squeezing his cum out around the sides of his length and letting it spill onto the bedding. He didn’t want to let go of you just yet, so he held you there while you both lay in your blissed out high for a while.

It wasn’t the same…it would never be the same…but it was close enough.

That was how Miguel had managed to slide - almost seamlessly - into your life. He noticed that this version of you was more different than he’d originally thought, right down to the way you liked to do your makeup. Still, he felt that as long as he could keep you alive, and keep you safe, he could overlook some of those things. You were similar enough that he felt happy again.

He still missed you sometimes though; the real you that he’d lost, and he still mourned for that version of you. But when he looked at you now, a few months into dating this you, in your little brown barista apron with a big grin on your face, kissing him on the cheeks like he was the most precious thing in the world to you, he felt warm. It was like putting a bandaid on the wound. It would never fully heal, but this made it better.

Everything was as perfect as it could be, until one morning felt unfortunately familiar. He woke up fast, realizing he’d been sleeping with his mouth wide open on your chest.

“Good morning, handsome,” you said, laughing and wiping a bit of spit from his stubbled cheek, “You were out. Having a good dream?”

He hadn’t forgotten a single detail about that day.

He looked up at you, brow furrowed in confusion and concern. In the last couple of months he’d learned a few things about this universe. Time still worked the same as it did in his universe, but the year was 2016. It was possible that time wasn’t even a relevant factor concerning your death, but he thought that perhaps if it was relevant, he might have a chance to save you before this day would be upon him.

He had also considered that perhaps his universe had an anomaly that the others didn’t, and that was why you’d died and perhaps you’d live in this one. Maybe it wasn’t canon for you to die every time, and he’d just been extremely unlucky to be born in the one dimension that he would lose you.

But if this universe did work exactly the same, he thought he would get to prepare for this. He thought he’d get more than a couple months with you before he lost you again. He gave you a soft smile and brought the back of your hand to his lips.

“What do you say you skip work today and we stay in bed, hm?” He asked, calm on the surface but screaming on the inside for you to agree.

“Well I have to go in, my rent isn’t going to pay itself.” You slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom, leaving Miguel lying there, staring at you with desperation as you walked away into the bathroom.

“I have a good job, mi vida, I can pay your rent, you don’t need to go to work,” he insisted, getting out of bed and standing in front of the bathroom doorway.

“Not a chance,” you said, undressing and closing the door in his face.

Maybe this morning would be different. If he recalled correctly, and he did recall correctly, this wasn’t how that morning had started originally. The fact that you weren’t married was already so different, it was just that…something felt so uncanny, so similar but so…not at the same time. He opened the door.

“Have to pee,” he grumbled, walking over to the toilet.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you,” you said, turning knobs on the shower, “I know we said we would do dinner tonight but a couple girls from work wanted to go out for drinks tonight so I think I’ll join them, that okay?” You stepped into the warm water and closed the curtain.

Miguel pulled his pants back up and froze.

“W-Who’s going?” He couldn’t stop his shaking hands from clenching into fists.

“Stacy and Mira.” You peeked your head out of the shower curtain, “I’m really sorry, I forgot all about–”

“No,” he said coldly.

Your heart caught in your chest at his words. All this time, Miguel had surprised you by proving to be the best guy you’d ever been with and suddenly, his firm tone sent a chill down your spine. He’d never spoken so bluntly to you before, and he’d certainly never looked at you with such a dark glare as he was in that moment.

“Baby, we can go out another night, it’s not often that Stacy can find a sitter and–”

“I said no,” he repeated harshly, “I won’t say it again.”

You turned off the shower and got out, grabbing your towel and covering yourself. He was so much taller than you, but you weren’t going to let someone talk to you like that, especially someone who was supposed to be your partner. You held up a scolding finger.

“Miguel, why the hell are you acting like this? You’re not my fucking dad, you’re my boyfriend. You don’t get to–”

He pulled you in, pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t know what else to do. You were angry, and you had every right to be. For all you knew, your normally loving and considerate boyfriend had taken a controlling and dark turn, and you were upset. He thought if he could just shut you up then you might forget about it and agree. Instead, you slapped him, forcing him to step back in shock, holding his cheek where the sting remained.

“Out,” you said firmly, “you’ve been acting like a weirdo ever since the day you met my parents. I looked past it because you still seemed like a nice guy, and those are hard to find, but you freak me out.”

Miguel’s heart fell into a million pieces all around him. He held his breath, trying to keep himself from losing his temper. His chest was heaving.

“Mi vida, I–”

“Stop calling me that! I’m not your life. I’m just some girl you’ve been dating for a few months and sometimes things don’t work out. This…” you gestured between the two of you, “isn’t working out.”

Miguel would never hurt you. He would never hurt you, but in that moment he fantasized about breaking your fucking neck. It was delicate enough, he could hold it tight and make it snap with only one hand. He might even enjoy watching you writhe when he grabbed you. How dare you think you could just leave him like that.

But he didn’t have to do a thing, because he knew that you would die that day, and he wasn’t going to stop you. Not this time. Fuck this version of you.

“Fine,” he said with a malicious smirk.

After he left, you cried, but only for a short while as you finished getting ready for work. He wasn’t the first weirdo you’d dated, and you were certain he wouldn’t be the last. You were glad that Emily had stayed at her own boyfriend’s house the night before so she wouldn’t hear you and Miguel arguing that morning. The last thing you wanted to do was go to your older sibling with your tail between your legs in defeat over another loser.

Miguel watched you leave your apartment and start walking to work. He thought he might have to wait until 10:53pm to see you die, but it would seem his theory that time was completely irrelevant when it came to your canonical death was correct.

The car seemed to come out of nowhere, flying down the street without a care for who might be in its path. Some idiot was behind the wheel, texting and driving, not paying attention while you crossed. The interesting thing was, that the other two girls died too, like they had in the original universe. After hitting you, the car swerved into the storefront of the coffee shop, killing the two employees who were standing near the front door; looks like those stupid friends of yours were meant to die in every universe too.

Miguel shook his head in frustration. Of course a part of him felt sad seeing you choking on your own blood in the middle of the street while people surrounded you, as if there was anything they could do. He didn’t feel sad for you though, he felt sorrow only for himself, having wasted so much time trying to find out if you were the one he could replace you with. It would seem you were a faulty substitute, flawed in so many ways that he’d chosen to overlook, and it was time to find a new one, a better one.

And he wouldn’t stop looking until he found a sufficient replacement, the perfect one.

Thank you for reading! You can support your favorite writers by the simple act of reblogging and liking! Thank you again!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara imagine #yandere miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara noncon #miguel o'hara noncon #miguel o'hara non-con #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fan fiction

613 notes · View notes