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bruh-changbin · 2 years ago

Text

sweet tooth

pairing: park jay x waitress!afab reader

genre: smut, minimal fluff (minors dni)

warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe), public sex, creampie, finger sucking, minimal food play, lots of mentions of food, brief mention of male masturbation, jongseong is kind of a big desperate loser, lmk if i’m missing anything

word count: 6.7k

a/n: writing this killed me idk why it took fucking forever dawg. but hey, i’m finally giving you all an enha fic without a depressing ending!!! here’s a fun drinking game to play while you read this: take a shot every time jay says a variation of ‘uhhh’ (you will die) ALSOOOO this is for my bae’s @k-ingzo @lix-ables thank you guys for hyping me up to write this bc if you didn’t I’m 90% sure I would’ve scrapped it 😻 LOVE YAAAAA

waiting.

the most painful game one can be subjected to.

seconds stretch into minutes stretch into hours and soon enough the whole concept of time is but a mere social construct that holds no real value.

surely his coffee’s gone cold by now.

the view from the window to his right has progressed from one filled with gold, yellow and orange to one filled with blue, black, and indigo. one by one the neon signs of nearby businesses have flickered on to attract the nighttime crowd.

he tries to ignore the way his heart is sinking in his chest, much like the way he himself is sinking deeper and deeper into the red vinyl cushion of the booth he’s seated in. the overhead speakers have been blaring elvis for the past half hour and he wants to scream and smash a plate on the floor in frustration. if they play hound dog one more time i swear i’m gonna-

jennifer. 20. single. 2.3 km away. her bio read: only swipe right if you like puppies!!!!!

he does like puppies and found her to be quite pretty, so he did as he was instructed. his heart did a small flip in his chest when his phone screen lit up reading ‘it’s a match!’. he got to talking to her and things were going smoothly. well, at least he thought they were. now he’s alone in a booth constantly refreshing their online chat with some sliver of hope that she may still be coming. the same three messages stare back at him:

[5:17 pm] jay : hey! I got here a bit early so i’m just waiting in the car. let me know when you get here and we’ll go in together.

[6:03 pm] jay: it started getting busy so i snagged us a booth, i hope that’s ok… anyways, i’ll see you soon.

[6:49 pm] jay: hello?

whatever, her loss. fuck dating apps.

and fuck jake sim for making him sign up for one.

maybe tinder just isn’t for him. maybe he needs to find love the old fashion way: bumping into someone on the street; locking eyes across a crowded room; both of you reaching for the last bottle of wine at the grocery store and then just insisting that the other takes it. you know, the kind of shit you see in movies.

the only thing is he’s tried the old fashion way for years to no avail, with tinder being his last resort. things like these take time, he tries to remind himself. you can’t rush love, that’s the magic of it!

but now, seated in a booth at an obnoxiously retro themed diner with his head hung low, he has lost all faith in love. he picks up the porcelain mug to his right and downs the dark liquid; cold, just like his heart.

he should just leave. i mean it’s obvious at this point that he’s been stood up so he should just head home where the teasing and nagging from jake that will bruise his ego even more is iminent. there comes a time in life where one must accept defeat and move on with-

“would you like a top up, sir?”

a sudden interjection from a saccharine voice to his left is what pulls him out of his trance of self pity. woah, hello you.

it’s been a long time since he’s been rendered speechless, but you do that to him. you, looking like someone who should be on the cover of a magazine as opposed to serving coffee in a diner. a white button down hugs your torso in all the right ways and he’s envious of the red apron that’s tightly wrapped around your waist because that should be him. the blue ballpoint pen tucked behind your ear somehow makes you 10x more attractive and he can feel his throat close up at the sight of you.

your skin looks smooth and your lips look plump and thank fuck jessica bailed on him because now all he can think about is bending you over this very table and fucking you raw. top up? more like top me, please!

the glint of the gold name tag pinned onto your shirt catches his eye and he reads it: y/n. pretty.

he notices your eyes shifting around anxiously and reality comes crashing down on him. stop drooling over her tits and answer the question you perv. focus!

“i u-uhhh yes, uh yes please that’d be great,” he stutters out embarrassingly, prompting you to bend over and refill his mug with steaming hot coffee from a pot that you hold with a perfectly manicured hand.

“can i get you anything else while you…” your eyes dart to the empty seat across from where he’s seated, “wait?”

god this is so embarrassing. now the cute waitress thinks he’s a fucking loser who got stood up (that is exactly what happened). could this day get any worse? he was just about to leave, spare himself from more agony when you waltzed into his life and made his brain a complicated, frazzled mess.

“uhmm no that’s ok,” he’s trying very hard not to trip over the simplest of words, “just the bill would be great.”

you nod, about to turn around and head over to the register when jay speaks up again in an attempt to preserve his image.

“it was supposed to be a-a work meeting,” he starts while motioning to the still empty spot across from him, “but my uh….. business partner… couldn’t make it, so..”

he’s lying. you know he’s lying. someone waiting for their ‘business partner’ to show up wouldn’t be checking their phone every 1-3 minutes while intermittently wiping their clammy palms on their slacks every time the doorbell jingles and a new customer enters.

but he doesn’t need to know that, so you paint on an understanding smile before heading over to the diner counter, sparing him one final glance over your shoulder.

it’s a sad sight to see; a handsome boy patiently waiting for someone who’s clearly not going to show up. so you bring him a slice of red velvet cake dolled up with cream cheese icing and waive the two cups of coffee that were tacked onto his bill for the evening.

“it’s on the house,” you practically whisper into his ear while placing a comforting hand on his sturdy shoulder.

“oh!” his voice cracks, “t-thank you so much i-” he calls, but you’re already walking away to assist another table.

his hand instinctively reaches to where yours was placed on his shoulder only moments ago. he could sense the warmth radiating from your palm, feel the stray hairs of your bangs tickle his ear, smell the artificial strawberry scent of your lip gloss.

either someone decided to crank the heat up in the diner or he’s becoming extremely flustered (it’s the second one). he scoffs down the cake you left him with flushed cheeks and tight pants, visions of himself prying your legs open and indulging in something sweeter plaguing his mind.

with a hefty sigh he throws on his coat before making his way out of the diner and into his car that’s parked right out front. from behind his windshield he watches as you greet a group of other customers before turning his keys in the ignition and peeling out of the parking lot.

he doesn’t even make it home before he’s pulling into an empty parking lot and jerking himself to the thought of you and your work uniform and your glossed lips.

covet. desire. yearn for. crave.

all very real tertiary emotions that park jay would use to describe his current feelings towards you - a server who he spoke to for two minutes max and now can’t seem to move on from.

unsurprisingly, jake teased the fuck out of him for getting stood up in the way that friends do. but he doesn’t know that jay views his failed date as a complete success.

albeit he is still mildly salty over the fact that he got stood up, all negativity is washed from his brain the moment he pulls into the familiar parking lot in front of the familiar diner and he feels the familiar pitter patter of his heart quickening its pace from behind his ribcage.

he tried to hold off on returning the literal day after he was just there, he really did, but he simply couldn’t bear it. the urge to see you, to observe you interacting with other patrons to know if you’re nice to everyone or if he got special treatment is too strong to ignore. it’s for science! he assures himself.

the dulcet jingle of the bell as he opens the door to the diner rings in his ears, and he waits to be seated. the hostess that shows him to a booth similar to the one he was in yesterday is pretty, but she’s not you. only then does jay realize that the possibility of you not having been scheduled to work today is very real. this is only worsened by the fact that he decided to come in the late morning today as opposed to the evening like yesterday. stupid, stupid, stupid!!!

while feeling like a complete and utter idiot he decides to get to work, whipping out his journal, writing utensils and laptop for the sake of not looking like a weirdo. what kind of person goes to a diner and just…. sits there. he’s gotta keep up a facade.

things are starting to look grim for jay as he sits and works and waits for the object of his desire to appear in front of him. while the retro cat clock on the wall continues its relentless ticking he attempts to swallow down his dismay.

alas, the universe must be on his side after all for soon enough he catches a glimpse of you through his peripherals. yes! you seem to be a little frazzled, gnawing on the inside of your cheek before grabbing a mop to clean up the chocolate milk that a toddler has decided to decorate the floor with; your shift must have just started.

he keeps his head hung low while intermittently scribbling in his journal or scrolling on his laptop, opting to steal an occasional glance as you assist a plethora of other patrons. the coffee he was served upon his arrival is starting to go tepid, much like yesterday, and he’s practically praying you’ll soon stride over and ask if he needs a top up.

“more coffee…” you pause briefly, “jay?”

hold up, how’d you learn his name?

his brow quirks upwards in confusion and with your hand - the one that’s not holding a boiling pot of coffee - you point to his leather bound journal that’s splayed across the table, opened to the first page. property of park jay is scrawled across the top in his sloppy handwriting akin to that of a first graders. he’s surprised you can even distinguish what it says to be completely honest.

“ahhh,” he remarks in understanding, smiling ever so slightly because hey, now you know each others names. that’s a step in the right direction.

“were you looking to order something? you know, other than black coffee.”

as if on cue his stomach growls (luckily quietly enough for you to not pick up on it) and he fumbles for the plastic covered menu to his right that slips and slides in his sweaty grasp.

“i would love to but uhh, i’m not sure what i’m in the mood for… what do you recommend?”

you roll his question around in your head for a moment, “were you thinking sweet or savoury? or if you want both, we make a pretty mean monte cristo.”

at this point if you told jay to walk off a cliff he would do it, so he orders your recommendation without hesitation.

“good call,” you purr before waltzing away from his booth and into the kitchen, leaving jay to erupt in a fit of goosebumps on his own.

while he waits he busies himself with reading an article on his laptop, getting halfway through before realizing he hasn’t actually been taking any information in the entire time. but can you blame him? his brain is… preoccupied with other thoughts.

soon enough you’re striding back over to where he’s seated, placing a steaming monte cristo with so much confectioner's sugar on top it looks as if there’s been a mini avalanche in front of him. he thanks you and is about to dig in before he realizes you aren’t leaving.

“is your business partner coming today?”

…what?

“my business partner? i don’t- OH! fuck, uh y-yes my business partner right! uh no, no he’s not coming today. i usually come here to work on my own though.”

for a moment he forgot about the blatant lie he spilled to you the last time he was here to save face, but he thinks he saved himself with that last bit.

a playful yet triumphant smirk makes its way onto your face, “that’s funny, i’ve never seen you here before yesterday.”

his eyes widen and his palms become impossibly sweaty. caught in a lie, great.

before he can come up with a witty response you just shoot him a knowing look as you walk away from the booth he’s seated in, your strawberry body spray wafting behind you and infiltrating his senses, rendering him immobile.

ugh how you make his teeth ache! he longs to douse you in syrup and powdered sugar, drag his hot tongue across your skin as you squirm and twist in pleasure underneath him. he’s sure you’d be sweet enough to give him a cavity. he finishes his monte cristo with gusto and attempts to do more work on his laptop but finds his brain to be far too frazzled to do so.

when he decides to call it quits, he leaves you a hefty tip before driving home with the taste of sugar coating his lips and the inside of his mouth.

over the span of a few weeks the two of you become accustomed to a game similar to the likes of cat and mouse.

he shows up to the diner in the late morning/early afternoon and prays that you’re scheduled for a shift; you usually are. through the course of a few hours jay manages to get minimal amounts of work done while you check on him occasionally, offering your opinions on different menu items and then placing a hand on his shoulder with a laugh when he trips over his words.

he’s sure you can sense the tension as well, but in case you can’t he keeps his thoughts to himself. you could just be doing your job for all he knows.

nevertheless, it feels as if all aspects of jay’s life now revolve around you. when he falls asleep at night you’re the last thing on his mind and when he wakes up you’re the first. when he gets himself off he has to think of you or else he won’t feel satisfied, and he can only hope and pray that one day he’ll be able to feel your body against his, the warmth radiating from your body making him feel like a cake in an oven.

sure he’d love to take you out, shower you with gifts and spoil you by taking you to expensive places that would surely break the bank, but he just can’t seem to push away all of the hardly appropriate thoughts and feelings he harbours towards you. it’s becoming quite an issue, honestly.

he thinks of popping the buttons on your blouse open one by one before diving in, scattering bite marks and bruises across your tits and neck and collarbones as you writhe and plead underneath him. i need more jay, please give it to me…

god you would sound so perfect.

his fantasies don’t stop there though; they never do. he can’t help himself from imagining what it'd be like to reach up your skirt and peel your panties down your legs as if they’re strands of red licorice. he’d go so slow, taunting and teasing you before slipping himself inside of you and feeling your cunt suck him in as if you crave him like oxygen.

you smell of strawberries and he’s sure you taste like them too. the stripper red polish on your nails would pair so well with the scratches he’s sure you’d leave across the expanse of his back and shoulders. he longs to dig his teeth into your plush thighs like they’re mochi, snapping a picture of his bite mark embedded in your perfect skin to save for later use.

down bad is an understatement when it comes to jay’s desire for you. infatuation is more like it.

today starts off like every other day. the smell of burnt coffee is what pulls him from his slumbers, and the clock on his bedside table tells him he managed to sleep in until one in the afternoon. when he trudges into the kitchen he sees his roommate and friend jake, who likely also just woke up and still doesn’t understand how to properly operate a coffee machine, staring at his phone.

it’s then that jake reminds him of the plans they made to spend the afternoon at their friends house playing video games before grabbing takeout for dinner. jay curses his past self for agreeing to these dumb plans with his dumb friends since he was planning on heading to the diner today to marvel at his favourite waitress! oh well, he can still head over for an hour and a half at most before he has to return and uphold the prior promise he made.

he turns down jake’s offer of a cup of coffee and, after a quick shower, he’s flying out the door.

when he finally makes it to the place where he spends most of his days now he doesn’t even wait to be seated, just slips into the same booth as always and waits for you. the little ritual the two of you have fallen into now so ingrained into his brain he can’t imagine straying from it. alas, it’s decently busy today so he busies himself by scrolling through his instagram feed while waiting for you to grace him with your presence.

when you finally appear in front of him you don’t say anything, just shoot him your usual friendly smile while precariously placing a napkin and mug of black coffee in front of him before leaving as quickly as you came. this sends jay into an emotional spiral. oh god, did i do something wrong? he ponders to himself, brows furrowed as he tries to remember everything he said to you during your last interaction that could have potentially been misconstrued.

only then does he notice the blue ink poking out from the napkin tucked underneath his steaming mug of coffee. with shaky hands he pulls it out and reads the short message written in your refined penmanship:

my shift is done at 10:00 pm.

wait for me? :)

y/n

and just below your neat scrawl he can make out a sticky lip gloss print, a faint hint of the fake strawberry scent that plagues his mind day and night still lingering.

in this moment he should be happy, ecstatic, victorious even! his constant and obsequious devotion to you has not gone unnoticed, and at long last he’ll be alone with you in a place that doesn’t have checkered tile floors and posters of pin ups on every square inch of the teal coloured walls. but no, all he feels is embarrassment.

embarrassment because he was too much of a wiener to actually do something so you felt the need to take matters into your own hands. and embarrassment because your little napkin love letter signed off with your glossy kiss is making him excruciatingly horny. it’s like he’s in highschool all over again - yikes.

he glances at the face of the silver watch that he scarcely takes off, the leather wrist strap now feeling uncomfortably tight considering his recent spike in blood pressure. with some reluctance he decides to leave early, tucking your napkin note into his pocket before driving home while barely focusing on the road and cars in front of him.

the hangout with jake and the rest of his friends is excruciating as expected. time seems to both fly by and drag on simultaneously, and he watches the hands on his watch tick down the hours, minutes, seconds until he can finally be with you - alone. when jake finally throws the towel in jay all but runs out of the door, speeding down the now far emptier city streets before pulling into the dining parking lot and waiting (he’s 23 minutes early).

with every passing minute his heart rate quickens and, when the time reads 10:06 pm, he thinks he’s going to faint when he sees you exit your place of work and scan the parking lot briefly before making your way over to his car. the sound of his passenger side door opening feels far off as he tries to make sense of the fact that you are about to be in his car, right beside him. what the fuck.

“hi.”

“i like your car.”

“oh, you do?”

“yep. it suits you.”

“really?”

you only nod at this, flashing him a subtle grin before flipping down the sun visor in front of you to tidy up your appearance after a long and tiring shift (he still thinks you look pretty). it feels as if his fingers aren’t his own as he fiddles with the radio while gazing at you through his peripherals, watching as you rub the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes before applying a final coat of the lip gloss that he loves oh so much. how on earth is he going to last longer than 5 minutes without falling at your feet?

“sooo what do you wanna do?” jay questions, unsure if his eagerness to hear your response is because he’s genuinely curious or because he just likes the sound of your voice.

“you choose, take me anywhere,” you offer with a smile, “surprise me!”

“okay!” he responds, narrowly escaping a voice crack as he shifts his car into reverse.. he has just the place in mind.

the drive is somewhat of a lengthy one, although you don’t seem to mind. it’s warm enough to have the windows down, and jay greedily gulps down deep breaths of the fresh night air. from your spot in the passenger seat you ramble about your day at the diner, complaining about an old man who held the ketchup bottle the wrong way and promptly squirted it all over you when you came to ask how he was doing. despite all, you still manage to have a positive attitude.

soon enough he’s pulling off of the main road into an opening surrounded by woods, killing the engine and the car lights and opting to bask in the natural glow of the night sky.

“wow jay, way to be subtle.”

“what!!?”

“what do you mean what? you bring me to the city’s unofficial official makeout spot and expect me to not be skeptical?”

fuck. for the entirety of the drive over he was hoping that you wouldn’t know about the promiscuous reputation this spot has garnered over the years. he can’t give up this quickly though, he must play innocent!

“i- woahh, is that what this place is? i genuinely had no idea i just-”

“shut it jay, the first thing i noticed about you was that you’re a terrible liar.”

you’ve got him there, deception is not his strong suit. he’s about to explain himself when he notices you unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out of his car, prompting him to do the same.

“i just thought it would be a nice, secluded space where we could talk and hang out… nothing more.”

silence settles over the two of you and, upon noting jay’s queasy expression, you decide to indulge yourself and tease him (just a little bit).

“what are you trying to say?” you bat your eyelashes and fake being in thought, “that you don’t wanna fuck me on the hood of your car?”

he chokes on his saliva.

“w-what i’m trying to say is that i’m a uhhhh gentleman. i’m a gentleman.”

yeah right, you think to yourself. a gentleman and a major fucking hypocrite.

“okay jay, if you’re such a gentleman then why do you have a raging hard-on from literally just talking to me?”

in the pale moonlight you see his eyes widen before he scrambles to cover his crotch, not doing much to conceal his erection that’s straining against his slacks.

“oh god i’m so sorry i can explain uhh-”

“i’m just fucking with you,” you taunt before petting his hair affectionately, attempting to quieten your giggles while jay plasters on a fake smile even though he looks like he’s about to puke. in an attempt to garner the little composure he has left he turns away from you, the cool night air soothing his heated cheeks.

from where he’s standing he’s granted an overarching view of the city he calls home. against the nighttime sky he can decipher the suburbs, the downtown area, the cafe district. upon each building there’s a small rectangle filled with yellow or white light, windows in which individual people are carrying out their individual lives; it makes everything seem so… miniscule. i mean, aside from you, nobody even knows he’s up here - and he’s still trying to decipher if that’s a good thing or not, seeing as tonight all he’s done is embarrass himself.

when he looks back you’re leaning against the hood of his car, your arms folded across your chest which sequentially shoves your tits together in a way that makes him wanna plunge his face in between them and give you a good old fashioned motorboat.

his thoughts are cut off when you speak up.

“i brought you something,” you announce before turning and opening the passenger side door of jay’s car, trifling around in your before before pulling something out and heading back to where you were standing before, leaning against the hood of his car. in your hands is a toppled over piece of red velvet cake protected by a clear plastic takeout container coupled with two disposable forks.

“sorry it’s kinda smushed…. i forgot about it.”

“no, that’s ok!” jay thinks you shouldn’t have to apologize for anything ever, “thank you.”

with a crisp pop you open up the container, moving it to sit in between the two of you before passing jay one of the flimsy plastic forks. he lets you take the first bite, stating that after a long shift you need to get your blood sugar back up. you laugh before complying, watching as jay takes a bite right after you do, his eyes rolling back as all of the sweet, rich flavours dance across his taste buds. despite the piece of cake not being in the best condition, it still tastes like heaven.

jay’s caught off guard when your hand suddenly swoops in just as he’s about to spear another piece of cake with his fork, collecting a dollop of icing on one of your nails. he should’ve seen it coming when you reach up and wipe it on the tip of his nose with a playful laugh.

“wow y/n, so original,” he sneers while wiping the cream cheese icing on his nose onto the back of his hand.

he attempts to do the same to you, dipping his finger in the thick frosting before moving to wipe it on the tip of your nose, but you suddenly latch onto his wrist. he watches with hungry eyes and an erratic pulse as your tongue comes in contact with his knuckle, licking all the way up to his icing-coated fingertip before taking his digit inside your mouth. the thick muscle of your tongue wraps around his finger, sucking away the sweetness before you pull yourself off of him. a faint pink ring of lip gloss on the base of his knuckle now present.

fuck me.

not a single word is exchanged before jay pushes himself onto you, prompting you to lean back against the hood of his car that’s still slightly warm. with your body weight resting on your elbows and your legs spreading to accommodate jay’s torso, you finally let him taste you.

your lips are soft and warm like a pastry fresh out of the oven, and when he pulls away he heaves a heavenly sigh filled with pleasure and contentment and thank fuck this is finally happening. it’s not long before you’re pressing your lips to jay’s again, one of your hands moving up to caress the shell of his ear before resting against his face.

you can feel his jaw move against your palm when he opens his mouth and drags his tongue across your sugar coated lips, inducing you to do the same. when his tongue pushes past your teeth and brushes against yours you groan in pleasure, the fingers previously gracing his face dipping down to undo several buttons of your work shirt. with his lips against yours and his tongue down your throat you can feel him giving into you, as if you’re a delectable piece of his favourite candy and he has a raging sweet tooth.

when jay pulls himself off of you you think you might just cry. luckily you don’t go without his touch for long, for when you open your eyes you watch him dip two fingers into the frosting on top of the forgotten slice of cake before smearing it across the exposed flesh of your tits and down your sternum. he promptly shoves the two frosting coating fingers into your gaping mouth, gazing at you with heart eyes as you suck them clean.

only then does he dip his head down, the tip of his tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your right breast before licking the stripe of icing off with one broad swipe of his tongue. he gives your other breast the same treatment before giving it teasing nips and kisses, using his tongue to soothe the pinch of his canines.

once he licks the rest of the frosting from your sternum he continues his descent, not stopping until the insides of your thighs are brushing against his pierced ears. in one swift movement he flips your skirt upwards, your pretty panties with a subtle wet patch now on display for him and only him.

not being able to resist seeing your bare cunt in all of its glory, jay eagerly digs two fingers into the waistband before dragging the fabric down your legs. your lacy pink thong gets all twisted and tangled around your ankles as jay struggles to pull it off, eventually managing to get it around your sneakers before tucking it into his pocket for safe keeping.

he feels his pants grow impossibly tights as he stares at you on the hood of your car with your legs spread, quite literally something that could’ve been torn right out of a playboy. without missing a beat jay dives into you, flattening his thick tongue and licking you like he would a dripping ice cream cone. it catches you by surprise and you instinctively tangle your fingers in his ebony tresses, a needy moan making its way past your lips and into the air. jay uses the tip of his tongue to explore your needy pussy, lapping up your juices and revelling in the taste on his tongue. i could die like this he thinks, and he digs his blunt nails into your thighs while shoving his head impossibly deeper.

it’s somewhat sloppy, but what he lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm. it feels like he’s practically making out with your cunt and you can’t help yourself from tugging on his hair in approval. the groans he emits in response have you shuddering, the vibrations causing your legs to shake and tremble as you struggle to keep them pried open. in your lower abdomen you can feel the pressure of an impending orgasm begin to brew.

this sensation only doubles when jay shifts his focus to your clit, sucking on and toying with it like it’s a sugar-covered gumdrop. his actions have you arching your back off of the hood of his car, eyes squeezing shut as you cry and plead, “p-please don’t stop jay… never stop.”

your pleas boost jay’s ego to the max and he eats you out with unrestrained passion, alternating between sucking your clit and tonguing your hole until you finish all over his mouth with a canorous cry that reverberates between his ears. he hopes to never forget that sound.

with reluctance he pulls himself off of your sweet pussy, having to push your legs apart slightly to free himself from the way they were clenching around his head. he stares at you in awe as you bask in the post-orgasm sensation, mouth agape and chest heaving faintly. your eyes, when you finally pry them open, are slightly glassy and it looks like it takes you a second to come back to earth.

your grip on jay’s hair loosened but you never fully let go, and soon enough he feels you tugging at his roots in an attempt to get him to hover over you once again. without hesitation you press your lips to his once again, tasting yourself in and on his mouth as you kiss him until you can’t breathe.

his curious hands never stay resting in one spot on your body for longer than a second before he’s exploring somewhere else, his mouth making a path from your lips down to your jaw and neck. the tips of his fingers finally stop when they reach your hips, gripping onto your and flipping you over so your chest is against jay’s car and your ass is up in the air.

he can’t help himself from ogling at your perfect form all splayed out for him. the curve of your ass is to die for and jay starts subconsciously unbuckling his belt, easing the strain of his pants against his painfully hard dick.

from your spot on top of the car you begin to grow impatient. your tits are smushed and your neck is craned and even though you just came you’re already ready for another one if it means you get to feel jay filling you up like a cream puff. luckily, you soon feel the tip of jay’s cock dragging through your folds, your still-sensitive clit throbbing slightly when he bumps into it. the sound of jay spitting into his palm joins that of the crickets and your erratic breathing, soon replaced by his sighs of delight as he strokes his cock with his spit covered hand to help lube it up.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when you finally feel him prod your entrance with his tip, although you can sense some hesitancy. it’s not surprising when the silence is broken by jay asking: “...are you ready?”

he feels his chest tighten when you make a noise of approval followed by a meek nod, your starry eyes glancing back at him as much as you can in this particular position. with a hefty exhale he nods back before slowly starting to sink into you, a low groan making its way out of his chest as he pushes deeper and deeper until his hips are flush with your ass.

once fully inside of you he remains stagnant for a moment, needing to adjust to how incredibly warm and tight you feel if he wants to last longer than three seconds. soon enough he feels he’s garnered enough collectedness to start moving, so he does.

his movements are small, almost timid at first. like he’s testing the waters, garnering enough confidence to go harder, faster. your hushed whimpers of pleasure ring in his ears and he teasingly rolls his hips in an attempt to have you feel him impossibly deeper inside of you.

“j-jay!” you cry when he seemingly bumps your g-spot with the tip of his cock, the muscles of your waist tensing up when he does. wanting to provide you as much pleasure as possible he continues his ministrations, not altering them in any way out of fear of doing something wrong.

jay feels his stomach start to seize up as a pleasurable burn takes hold in his lower stomach, his vision blurring slightly at the edges as he shifts between groaning aloud and biting his lip so hard he’s worried he’ll break the skin and draw blood. with exercised caution he picks up the pace, ensuring that in this moment you’re still feeling as good as he is.

his cock slips in and out of your desperate, dripping hole with ease, your hips banging against the unyielding metal hood of his car with each and every thrust. it’s hardly comfortable, but at this moment in time you think you’d rather die than have jay stop - so you persevere.

“god you’re so good jay, so fucking big,” you praise as you feel your second orgasm of the night approaching steadily. most of your limbs have started to go numb from the position you’re in yet you can feel each and every nerve end slowly begin to burn up, to bring you closer and closer to release. when jay reaches down to toy with your aching clit, you’re done for.

the slight ache from the way your cunt is stretched around his cock adds to the jolting sensations that come every time he bumps your clit has you so close, so close you can taste the sweet promise of an orgasm dancing on the tip of your tongue. jay feels it too, for he throws all inhibitions to the wind and fucks you from behind with no restraint.

he can feel his release creep up his spine and spread through all of his limbs until it’s all he can see, taste, and feel. groans continue to spill past his lips as white hot light floods his senses and a blinding orgasm washes over him, which is only strengthened by the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock as you finish underneath him. he cums inside of your wanting cunt, filling it up to the brim before collapsing on top of you with a grunt.

seconds turn into minutes and the two of you remain in place, breaths and pulses struggling to return to normal as you come down from an intense high. jay can feel his shirt clinging to his sweaty back, and he scrambles off of you when he realizes he was quite literally resting all of his weight on you.

with a helping hand he helps you sit up, chuckling slightly when your knees turn to jello when you try to stand up. so, you opt to stay seated on the hood of jay’s car for just a few more moments, patting the spot beside you to get him to sit down. you’re sure you look like a mess, but jay gazes at you with something that can only be described as awe.

smitten. captivated. enraptured. allured.

the pale light of the moon casts a heavenly glow across your face, and he kisses your lips like they’re covered in strawberry syrup.

a/n: tumblr’s editing system is the biggest piece of garbage i am so sorry if there are any weird glitches or anything but i am literally seconds away from whipping my laptop at the wall out of frustration as i edit this so pls lmk if anything looks weird when this posts lawl thank you

#enhypen smut #park jay smut #park jongseong smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen blurbs #enhypen x reader #park jongseong x reader #park jay x reader #jay park x reader #park jongseong fanfiction #park jay fanfiction #park jongseong blurbs #park jay blurbs

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reverie-starlight · 3 months ago

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{nobody like you- momo yaoyorozu}

I've been in such a momo mood lately, I just really needed to write something for my wife. I'm so in love with her she deserves all the best things ever.

fem!reader, no physical descriptions. slight angst but mostly fluffy. lots of yearning. reader and momo get a bit tipsy. teensy tiny bit suggestive at the end if you squint.

this is a part 2 to this drabble I wrote a while ago! reader is pro hero!momo's PR manager/assistant/best friend.

momo doesn’t need reassurance very often.

she hasn’t since her U.A. days. for the most part, she’s managed to overcome her insecurities and losses and shine in the hero world as a very dependable and capable leader.

but still, there are times that she falters and familiar feelings of doubt creep in.

you walk through the elevator that opens into her penthouse apartment carrying a bottle of wine and some take-out. for the first time that evening, she smiles.

"hey," you murmur, settling next to her on the red chaise-lounge overlooking tokyo's night life. it's cramped, considering she's huddled under her fluffiest blanket and surrounded by pillows, but you make it work and she's so grateful to have you close. "how are you feeling, honey?"

the immediate comfort of having you near dissipates and she's reminded of why you're here in the first place.

she shrugs. she feels absolutely horrible about how things on her last patrol had transpired. it was petty theft, there's absolutely no reason she should've let him get away, but she got distracted for one second because a kid ran in front of her begging for her help with finding his mother.

and of course a lost child takes priority over a stolen bag of groceries in most people's eyes, but the cranky old man (who was objectively having a better time than momo), decided to go on and on to anyone who hadn't seen the sequence of events about her "carelessness" and "clear bias". even after momo offered to pay for his new groceries and then some.

he happily took her up on that, but still decided to rip her to shreds when a pretty penny was dropped in his wallet in exchange for an interview from an outlet that has been anything but kind to her.

she groans and brings her hands to her face thinking about the media coverage she's been getting all day.

you put a hand on her knee and stroke your thumb over it to soothe her. "it's okay, momo. everyone who really saw what went down has been defending you online."

she peeks through her fingers to look at you with a pitiful expression. "really?"

you nod enthusiastically. "mhm! and besides, everyone knows better than to believe anything those vile journalists say about you."

momo drops her hands and looks at you gratefully. it's true, there's been a lot of fans and heroes alike calling out the news outlet for it's recent criticisms of fan favourite heroes, some of her friends included. she thinks back to the messages she received earlier from midoriya and mina, and those she's yet to check from todoroki and ochako.

"and," you continue, pulling her out of her thoughts yet again "you have me covering for you. I'll take care of it, don't you worry."

that's right, she thinks fondly. I have you...

but does she? nothing else has happened between you since that day you stitched her up. no words have been exchanged about it, no more developments have come about.

she's going to reach her breaking point soon, she can feel it, but she's terrified of putting herself out there without anything to confirm it won't be for nothing. not one sign to confirm that you feel the same.

you're not making it any easier by looking as good as you do right now- you're not dressed in anything particularly fancy, your clothes are rumpled and your eyeliner is a bit smudged, but you look perfect.

and you have food. what more could she ask for at this point?

you seem to remember the bag of food when her eyes are drawn to it and you light up. "oh! it's your favourite, I figured you needed a pick me up. seriously, I've got everything covered, so let's just unwind tonight."

she looks between you and the bottle you placed on the floor and nods.

about an hour and a half later, you’re both tipsy and singing at the top of your lungs to whatever songs come up on your shared playlist.

while you take a breather, you watch as she lets loose. her hair is down, her shoulders aren’t so visibly tense anymore, there’s a pinkish hue painting her cheeks and she looks more carefree than you’ve seen her in a long time.

maybe that’s not a fair observation, considering she’s currently inebriated (and you are too), but the sight captivates you nonetheless.

she’s gorgeous. so gorgeous it physically pains you to keep staring at her, yet you can’t look away. (in the back of your mind, you recall a joke she once made about you being a masochist and you almost laugh at your own expense.)

the yearning you’ve tried so hard to push down hits you like a truck and it only intensifies when the song ends and a slow song takes its place.

panting from her performance, momo turns her head towards you, the wide smile on her face that morphs into something far more gentle than you can handle right now.

you stare at each other. the slow strumming of the guitar in the background seems to charge the atmosphere and you’re both left with funny feelings in your chests as the song goes on.

your queue really knows how to set the mood.

the amount of love you have for her holds you to the ground and settles uncomfortably within you, like it’s fighting to come out. demanding to be heard. you don’t break eye contact. you can’t.

her eyes, wide and shining, show hesitation and… longing?

could she feel the same about you? all these weeks of yearning… does she feel it too? is she… waiting for you to make a move?

she breaks eye contact first, shaking her head a bit in the very same way she does when she’s doubting herself, but you’re just brave (and drunk) enough to keep her in this moment with you. determined enough to not let her down by chickening out.

“I love you,” you blurt out, and your own voice sobers you up immediately.

her head snaps up, and she looks at you again, this time shocked.

your heart sinks to your stomach as you take in the weight of your words. did you misread her? did you just ruin everything? you wonder what you must look like from her point of view right now. scared? probably.

“I love you too,” she says. the way she speaks is soft, but full of emotion, full of comfort. there’s hesitation mixed in there, like she’s unclear on what you’re getting at, but afraid to clarify.

you begin chewing on your bottom lip nervously, doubt creeping into the pit of your stomach, latching onto your heart and squeezing it tight enough to restrict your circulation. your body grows cold as the nerves eat away at you from the inside.

this is your only chance to write it off as how you’ve always meant it- friendly, platonic, very much not romantic. you could play it off, blame it on the alcohol, change the song and go back to how it’s always been…

but you think of that day you patched her up once again, and deep down you know your heart can’t take much more of this.

“I know… but do you… do you understand how I meant it this time?”

her breath hitches. a wobbly smile finds its way to her lips. “I think so,” she whispers.

you step towards her, grab her hand and rub your thumb over the back of it. “I’m so in love with you, momo yaoyorozu.”

she steps forward too, wrapping her arms around your neck. the tension in your chest subsides and it’s almost like you can feel your blood flowing again.

“I’m so in love with you, too,” she replies, her eyes meeting yours, wobbly smile evening out and becoming much more confident.

your hands find her hips and excitement blooms in your stomach. “can I kiss you?”

she nods and immediately leans in to capture your lips with hers. you gasp and reciprocate the best you can while trying to keep your grin at bay.

eventually you’re both giggling and pulling away, standing in her penthouse living room with your foreheads pressed together, breaths mixing as you pant.

momo isn’t in need of reassurance very often, but a kiss really can do wonders for a weary mind.

she pulls away a bit and asks you a question you’ve only ever dreamt of her asking. “will you be my girlfriend?”

you’re pretty sure the way you kiss her as soon as the last syllable leaves her lips is enough of an answer, but you reply anyway with a mumbled out “yes, I would love nothing more, sweetheart.”

nothing has ever felt as right as this.

~~~~~~~~

BONUS

when momo wakes the next morning, she’s greeted with the feeling of you curled up against her. images of everything that transpired after you made it official flash through her mind and heat creeps into her cheeks.

if it weren’t for the dull ache and pretty marks in various places across her body (strategically placed to be covered by her hero costume, she notes) she might have believed that part was all a dream.

but you’re really in bed, and all hers.

for the first time since becoming a hero, momo doesn’t care one bit about what’s being said about her in magazines. she doesn’t care about what criminals she’ll have to face later on.

her whole world, the only person who’s opinion she’ll ever truly care about ever again, is right beside her, sleeping soundly.

her heart flutters as she traces your back and watches your nose scrunch slightly. you’re so gorgeous in the morning light. she’s always known this, of course, but she’s absolutely ecstatic that the guilt that normally comes with that thought is no more.

she thinks back to something you had said to her last night- something mumbled incoherently as you both drifted off to sleep- and a realization suddenly hits her and sets her ablaze all over again.

shaking you awake, she waits for you to open your eyes before rolling on top of you excitedly. she relishes in your sleepy giggle and the feel of your arms wrapping around her waist.

“good morning, pretty girl,” she coos, pressing kisses all over your cheeks.

you whine in response, screwing your eyes shut and she smiles. “remember what you told me last night about needing to get all that stored up affection for me out?”

you peek up at her with one eye, curious as to where she’s going with this. “mhm?”

“well I just realized that I don’t need to hold back anymore, either.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m soooooo happy to have this done and very proud of how it turned out!! idk why but I genuinely think some if my best writing happens when I’m writing for miss momo.

the song I had in mind for the confession scene was sailor song, mostly bc it makes me yearn beyond belief and that’s the vibe of this fic lmao. I wanted to name this fic “dripping in my favour” bc I thought that whole section of the song is very fitting, but I really didn’t want people taking it out of context 🥹.

I am so down to turn this into a mini series, with PR manager!reader btw :3

@emmyrosee here it is!! <3

#momo yaoyorozu x reader #momo x reader fluff #momo yaoyorozu x fem!reader #fem!reader #momo x fem!reader #bnha x fem!reader #yaoyorozu momo x reader #bnha fluff #mha fluff #my hero academia x reader #bnha x reader

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disasterofastory · 10 months ago

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A new adventure (Halfdan x Reader)

A new adventure modern!Halfdan x Reader Warnings: none

Summary: You spend the nigth with your ex-husband.

The house is quiet and calm as you reach the bottom of the stairs. Your baby's screams still echo in your head. You are not even sure if he is crying again or if you just imagine things by now. Your head throbs with the pain you tried to keep at bay the whole night while you keep telling yourself that your son is alright and you don't have to go back to check on him.

He is asleep. He is fine.

One step creaks under your weight. It's loud and sharp. A heavy, tired sigh leaves your lips. Turning your head to the side, you listen.

It's okay, you think, relieved. Your baby boy is still asleep. It's fine.

"I will fix it tomorrow." Halfdan's smooth voice breaks the silence, drawing your attention to the couch where he sits, leaning on his knees with his elbows. The worried, stressful frown is still deep between his brows. "Thank you," you nod. "A drink?" "Do you have a beer?" "I have wine. Two bottles," you reply from the kitchen, holding the door of the fridge as your gaze falls on the bottles with the familiar logos. "I will take it," he sighs. "I thought so."

The lights coming from the kitchen cover the living room in a soft, orange hue. Your muscles melt against the couch as you sit down and hold up one of the bottles to the man next to you. "No glass?" He smirks, accepting your offer, though. "It's a glass-free household," you joke between two sips. The taste of the wine spreads over your tongue, and you have to close your eyes for long seconds to enjoy this momentary peace. "I'm sorry," Halfdan says after a while, making you jump when he grabs your legs to put them over his lap. His long fingers start to massage your sore muscles. His touch is warm and familiar. It's like a reflex that didn't die out of you even after one year. His every movement lights a fire in your lower belly. You almost laugh at it. "It's fine," you tell him. "Were you on a date?" He asks. "Yeah," you grunt. "To be honest, I should be grateful." "Why?" "It was horrible." He laughs. The man can't help but feel some satisfaction at your words. "Our baby knows when he has to get sick to save his mama." "He sure does," you hum, holding the bottle to your lips. "But I'm really sorry, you know? I should know what to do when my son is sick." Reaching out to squeeze his arm, you smile at your ex-husband comfortingly. You can see how devastated he is because of tonight, even though you know he did everything he could. "It's fine, Halfdan," you tell him. "Sometimes sick little boys need their mamas. You did everything well. Don't punish yourself because of nothing."

Not long after your boy's first birthday, you and Halfdan decided to end your marriages after months of struggling. It was quick and peaceful. Both of you wanted only the best for your child, and this kept your relationship away from useless battles and fights.

And here you are, after a year of your divorce, sitting with your ex-husband while your boy sleeps in his room. And you don't remember the last time you felt so content and calm, even though you are tired and still worried about your son's health.

"And what about your date?" He asks, turning his head to look at you. His fingers still work their magic on your muscles. "Do I know him?" "No," you reply. "I don't think so. I met him online." "First date?" "And the last." "So horrible?" You shrug. If you want to be fair, there was nothing wrong with the guy. He was nice, polite, and funny. "Boring." He hums. "Can I tell you something?" "I see the wine is starting to work," he smirks. He sees it in your eyes and the slight curve of your lips. You looked familiar when he first met you and asked you out on a date after two minutes of introducing himself. You giggled and said yes. "Everyone seems boring compared to you," you confess. "I have no idea how to enjoy a story if you are not the one who is telling it." Halfdan shooke up your whole world. He forced you to leave your comfort zone and live a little. He inspired you to start your own business, and even after all those years, he is still your biggest supporter.

Halfdan's chest stretches with a new wave of satisfaction when he hears your words. He remembers your first date. If he wants to be honest, he fucked it up. He talked and talked about his upcoming travel overseas. He was so excited. And you, instead of being annoyed with him or thinking him rude, listened and asked, and before he knew it, he was even more excited to come home to you. "We were good together, huh?" He asks but doesn't want your answer. He knows you were good together. Two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly... At least for a while. "Where did it go wrong?" "It was me," you reply immediately. Halfdan wants to argue, but you don't let him. "After our son was born I... I forgot how to be... me, you know? I became a mother and didn't know how to be anything else." You thought about it a lot, especially after your relationship got better and better after your breakup. He squeezes your leg and drinks from his bottle. "I should have reminded you." "Everybody should have reminded me," you grunt with the thorn still in you. Of course, you can't blame the others. Reminding you of yourself was not their job, but everyone made it so easy to forget that you are still Y/N, a woman, a wife, and not just a mother. "I'm sorry," he says anyway. "I didn't know it was so hard for you." "It wasn't," you reply. "I mean... I didn't notice until we broke up."

Halfdan opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it. He can't do that, can he? Would it be too risky? Would he cross a line? Did those things ever stop him? "Let me take you out on a date." The wine burns your throat as you cough. A small drop of red liquid runs down your jaw until you soak it with the sleeve of your shirt. "What?" You croak out. "Do you love me?" He asks. Halfdan is not the type who beats around the bush. "I still do. I still love you, and you know our son is my whole world. You two are my whole world." "Why do you think it would work now?" You ask him uncertainly, even though you can't help but smile at his words. "Because we know what went wrong the first time," Halfdan replies. He is so sure of himself. "I wouldn't let you forget who you are besides being a mother, Y/N. What more? We could go and travel somewhere. Our son could stay with Harald, he is old enough, and Harald will spoil him. Maybe we could go somewhere new? Or I could book the place where we were on our honeymoon?" Your laugh shuts him up. Your eyes shine with tears. "And here you are, already planning for a new adventure." "Please tell me you will come with me."

He holds up his hand for you to take it, and when you do, he kisses the back of your hand.

#halfdan imagine #halfdan the black x reader #halfdan x reader #vikings imagine #vikings x reader

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ivoirerose · 8 months ago

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lessons in loss | charles leclerc

summary: reflections on the end of a relationship.

it’s quiet when you get home. there is no warm greeting, no music softly playing in the background, no out-of-tune humming from the kitchen. your heart aches as it takes you just a second to realise that you’re not really home, not anymore. without those sounds, this is just a house.

you try to force your eyes to skim over the empty spaces he left behind. the bare corner where his piano once proudly stood, the faded spot on the wall where his overpriced art sat, the bare cushion his jacket was usually slouched over. it doesn’t work, and you find yourself staring, wondering how the absence of him is almost more overwhelming than his presence ever was.

despite not being here anymore, he’s more here than ever, in the gaps he’s left behind.

you can’t help but wonder where it all went wrong, how a couple so vibrant and sure, so full of love and promise and laughter, became this.

maybe it was the first time he cancelled date night, a rushed apology and a flimsy excuse hastily mumbled down the phone line. by the third time he missed date night, there wasn’t even a call, just a text.

you’d brushed it off, because of course his career was important, and meetings were a huge part of that, and you wanted to be supportive so bad, but each cancelled reservation, each carefully planned outfit thrown to the back of the wardrobe, each bottle of wine opened alone dug the knife in a little deeper until you’d stopped trying to schedule date night at all.

he hadn’t even noticed.

or maybe it was the first time you’d caught his wandering eye, the sting of it sharp after years of constant reassurance and steadfast faith in your relationship. he’d always told you that you were the only one for him, that no one could ever compare, and you’d had no reason to doubt him until that slip.

after that, you held your breath each time his phone pinged, each time he stayed with a friend, each time he slunk out the door, hair styled to perfection, wearing an outfit you were sure he’d never worn before. your suspicion grew like ivy until you were tangled in its vines.

or maybe it was the comments, once so easy to ignore but now glaring at you from under each post. you weren’t immune to your flaws, but to have them so plainly stated as a reason for just why you didn’t deserve him started to take its toll, until you simply stopped sharing your life online at all.

he’d never once thought to defend you.

if you were honest with yourself though, you know exactly when it happened, when the future you’d so carefully and excitedly planned shattered into unrecognisable shards.

a simply sunday morning. all he’d done was wake up, soft groan escaping as he stretched before pushing back the covers and making his way to the bathroom. the lock clicked behind him and that was that.

he hadn’t said good morning. through every hardship, every fight, every low and every high, he’d never failed to say those words, to acknowledge you in those quiet hours, voice soft with sleep. he’d never failed to recognise you beside him, to so easily reassure you that no matter what, it was you he was happy to wake up next to.

until that morning. you don’t even think he’d looked at you. and it wasn’t intentional. it wasn’t cruel or mean or pointed. it just was. he’d awoken, and you hadn’t been the first thing on his mind, hadn’t even been a thought at all.

by the time the shower turned off, you were gone.

he hadn’t fought it. no heartfelt apologies, no tears or begging, no flowers, no promises to change, to do better. you think that’s what hurt most of all.

he’d accepted it with ease, moving his things out and disappearing from your life like he’d never been there. except he had, and while he grinned on your screen from the top step of the podium, you drowned your sorrows and toasted to the man you’d once wanted to give everything.

you briefly wonder if he’d looked for you in the crowd, before realising how foolish that was. the only thing charles ever wanted was right there in his hand, trophy held tight as he sipped champagne.

you hope he wins the championship this year. you hope he finally gets what he’s always dreamed about, and you hope once he does, he realises everything he’s sacrificed to get there, and even if just for a moment, he feels as empty as you do right now.

you know he won’t.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 #cl16 x reader #f1 imagine

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avocado-writing · 1 year ago

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Hey 👋🏻 i just finished rewatching both seasons of good omens 🥲 can i request an ineffable husbands x r with an established relationship? after a night out they go back to the bookshop and r is pissed drunk so aziraphale and crowley tries to help them get comfortable and get settled but r keeps saying “back off i have partners.” and things like that because they’re too drunk to recognize the two which amuses them both. i read something similar online and thought it would be funny with the husbands. thank you so much ❤️

notes: put this once again in tltdatsib, hope that's ok! also yall: anyway nightingale is drunk / me: YES lmfao

pairing: crowley x reader x aziraphale

rating: T

notes: excessive alcohol consumption; gn reader but one reference to them being a primadonna; tltdatsib-verse

You’re all quite drunk.

The three of you are all impartial to a glass of wine or six after a nice day. Usually you can hold your liquor quite well, but you underestimated the vintage, and now you’re absolutely off your face. Crowley and Aziraphale are happy to sober up the miraculous way, the alcohol returning to its bottle, but you absolutely despise it happening to you and they’d never do it without your permission. So there you are, head-lollingly, body-flailingly drunk on the sofa in the back of the bookshop.

“Come on love, let’s get you to bed,” Crowley says, attempting to heave you into his arms. You push him away and make a low noise in the back of his throat.

“Did… did you just growl at me?” he asks, both delighted and bemused; torn between actually trying to help you or recording this on his phone so that he can tease you mercilessly tomorrow.

"My love - " begins Aziraphale, but you glare at him the best you can while barely being able to hold your head up.

“Oi! Back ‘ff sunshine,” you say, holding your hand up and wiggling your fingers, “‘m married! My husbands—spousesssss—won’t be too happy ‘f you chat me up!”

Aziraphale and Crowley exchange a look. You’ve not been this drunk since the three of you were invited to the Diamond Dogs release party in the seventies. Your hangover had lasted a week.

“Darling,” says Aziraphale with a patient sigh, “we’re your husbands… spouses… oh, look, it’s us!”

"No-oo-oo! Lies! Won't be taken in by handsome strangerssss!" you cry, a primadonna of a show only you can see. You try to launch yourself across the couch for safety but get your foot stuck between two seat cushions.

"'Handsome', eh?" Crowely asks, grinning very wide indeed.

"Yessss, handsome! Very! But 'm TAKEN."

Aziraphale sighs, both wanting this charade to be over and charmed that even when you're too blotto to recognise them, you still find your husbands attractive.

"Look, let me show you proof, darling."

You squint, suspiciously.

“Eh?”

Aziraphale reaches into his coat pocket to bring out his wallet. It has no cards or cash, nothing that one would actually need a wallet for - but he keeps it for one very particular reason.

He flips open the leather and holds it out for you to inspect. It has a photo in it: a polaroid, taken for you by a kind passerby on the day of your wedding. It’s of the three of you, arms around each other, all smiling the widest in any photo where you are the subjects. You take it from his hands, scrutinise it, then cringe.

“Oh god, ‘m ‘n idiot…”

You collapse back into the sofa, letting your arm remain in its place so Aziraphale can take the precious wallet back safely.

"It's alright nightingale. You're just a bit tipsy is all, my love."

"You're so kind to me even when 'm bein' silly..."

"For better for worse. For drunker, for sober...er," Crowley reasons.

“Should go t’ sleep…” you mutter, and before they can help you up, you turn over to face the pile of pillows and immediately make good on that threat. They cover you with a blanket, and Crowley does tease you the next morning.

@angiestopit @foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie @willyoubethepookietomypookster @lxsm2 @clarina04 @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @mrgatotortuga @wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke @kimqueenofhell @chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t @am-i-obsessed---maybe @bakerstreethound

#aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale #ineffable husbands x reader #good omens x reader #request #fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween

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fakeagatha · 2 years ago

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Mrs Fletcher | Prof!Eve Fletcher x Fem!Reader | Chapter Two: Drink

Summary: You and Eve separately meet up with your friends and throw your thoughts away with alcohol.

A/N: I've finally completed it! I deeply apologize for the delay. Please let me know if you spot any grammatical errors or typos!

Warnings: Alcohol, Implied NSFW

Word Count: 1166

You woke up to your alarm buzzing, not even remembering when you had fallen asleep in the first place. You do, however, remember that dream you had with Eve. You felt disgraceful to have even let your brain imagine such things without reason.

You groaned, rolling out of bed as you did NOT feel like getting up today. It's still only the middle of the week!

You lazily washed up in the bathroom, before throwing on something from your closet and grabbing your bag. You were hoping today would go smoothly, and you wouldn't have to deal with any general bullshit from entitled professors.

Not even five minutes since you got in, you were dealing with bullshit from entitled professors. Her name was Miss Evanora, and it was like a tradition to find something to complain about on students' papers, simply because she enjoyed causing them problems.

"Miss L/N, why did you put your name on the right? As I've specified thousands of times, I want your name on the left, and the date on the right! She complained, after stopping you in the hallway and shoving the paper in your face.

You tried not to roll your eyes, "I apologize." You took out a pen, scribbling on the paper in front of you and switching the name and date around. She would also complain about scribbles being on the paper, but you went your own way before she had the chance to say anything.

Eve glanced up from her coffee cup as she was standing in the hallway, just so happening to overhear the conversation. She spoke up when she saw you walking past. "Don't pay too much attention to her," she said, making you jump.

You looked up at her, "She does similar things in the office, too." She added.

You blinked, why she talking about her co-workers to a student?

"I'll keep that in mind, professor." You chuckled and nodded before walking away.

OH GOD.

'She's so mesmerizing! I could honestly listen to her talk and look into her eyes forever!' You thought, how cheesy.

You spent the rest of the day in your classes daydreaming, about the way your teacher looks at you when she talks to you, or the way she grins when listening to you.

Little did you know, Eve also felt the same way about you. It wasn't a crush, of course, that would be despicable, but she always smiled to herself when she would see you doing simple things, such as smiling at your phone or being plain stupid with your friends.

But being who she is with her internet porn addiction, she let's her curiosity take over her and looks up some videos featuring fake teachers and students when she got home later that day.

So that's how she found herself, laying on her bed, the covers up to her waist and her laptop on her thighs, as she scrolled through the Teacher-Student category online. She wasn't really thinking anything dirty at the moment, like always she was just curious, finally letting herself go and explore as she thought she wasn't allowed for so long.

You on the other hand, sat in your dorm room looking at the photo taken of you and Eve yesterday, with the facial expression of a complete idiot.

'So embarrassing...' You thought, 'How many people saw us?! But holy shit that was so sweet of her...'

You smiled like a lovesick teenager, but the difference was you didn't like her, you just... admired her, would be the right word.

You continued scrolling through your phone, when your door knocked.

"Yeah?" You asked, approaching the handle.

"It's me," You heard a voice,

"Who's me?" You asked again.

"You don't know your best friends voice by now?"

You opened the door for him, and he grinned at you, opening his bag and showing two bottles of wine.

You sighed, "come on then Steve." Moving aside to let him in.

He skipped over to your bed and threw the bag on, surprisingly not smashing anything, as he sat down and immediately cracked one open.

"Uhm, what's the occasion?" You watched him as he drank straight from the bottle.

He shrugged, "I figured we could take a break, from everything... Uni can be stressful." He said before chucking over the other bottle to you.

"Christ, be careful!" You gasped, catching the bottle in your hands. "If I hadn't caught that, you'd be cleaning the mess up."

Steve scoffed, "Come on, I threw it across the bed! Even if it fell, it would just fall onto the sheets!"

You popped open your bottle, and started sipping on it, watching your friend drink it a lot faster. "Slow down, I don't want you getting drunk already!"

He simply laughed at you "I won't, don't worry!" He grinned.

Meanwhile, Eve had gotten bored, and had decided to call up her coworker, Amanda, for a drink.

Amanda worked part time at the same university as Eve, since the Senior Home she works full time at was starting to pay less, due to the fact that they were loosing business.

The past between the two of them was mostly forgotten, said past being a few hookups. Despite everything, they had decided to just remain friends, and go their own ways with romance.

"So, anything fancy going on in your life?" Amanda asked Eve, sipping on her wine.

"Well, you know, the usual, breaking up fights in the hallways, grading papers, nothing new. Your life at the Senior Home is probably more interesting than mine." She replied.

Amanda scoffed, "You break up fights, I clean up old people shit. What's better?" She laughed.

Eve smiled before speaking up. "Have you ever felt... Weird about one of your clients or coworkers?" She asked her friend hesitantly.

Amanda thought for a moment, "Apart from what was going on between us, I don't think anything else has really happened. Why do you ask?" She smirked.

"You know... Favoring my students..." Eve mumbled, while Amanda almost choked on her drink.

"You have a crush on your student?!" She exclaimed.

Eve gasped, "No, no! She's just, different from the others in my classes. I can't be attracted to a student, that's not allowed!"

Amanda cleared her throat, "Status wise, it may be illegal, age wise, it's not. Everyone in that school is at least nineteen by now."

Eve shrugged, looking away thoughtfully. "I think she's in her early twenties... Either way, I don't like like her, she's just a very capable student."

Amanda looked at her before nodding, "Well alright then."

In the meantime, you were feeling quite tipsy with Steve, laughing at really stupid things, and blurting out weird remarks.

"You know, I think I have a crush on my teacher!" You laughed.

"I know! Took you long enough to realize!" Steve replied, swaying as he smacked your shoulder.

You cackled, "I finally said it!" You cheered.

Maybe you regretted taking that wine.

#agatha harkness #wandavision #agnes wandavision #eve fletcher #mrs fletcher #kathryn hahn #agatha x reader #fics

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fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction · 11 months ago

Text

From the Outside

The Afton-Herrera household as seen from the perspectives of a judgey teacher, nosy script writers, and gossipy kids looking for a podcast topic.

Time Set: Post-SB, Pre-Ruin

----------------------------------

Three hours in and Mrs. Feldman was ready to escape via the window rather than have to deal with another set of parents who would insist their kid was a perfect little angel and do nothing to help her resolve situations. Being a teacher was equal parts rewarding and demoralizing; some days there was more of one feeling over the other and she never knew what ratio she’d get until she got it.

Parent-Teacher Nights were her bane, but she was finally on the last appointment with her newest student and his guardians. If she could survive this, there’d be a nice chilled bottle of wine with her name on it back home. With a deep breath, she settled herself as best she could and then buzzed in the final appointment.

The door to her classroom opened after a few minutes, letting in the young woman she had met on enrollment day, Ms. Afton, of unfortunate relation to the founders of Afton Robotics which had recently been caught up in yet another short-lived scandal. Following her in was her sulking son, Gregory, the subject of tonight’s chat, and then following him in was someone Mrs. Feldman didn’t recognize, a young man with a tired look to him, like he’d just been pulled out of a long day at work to sit in on this meeting without a break in between. She could sympathize with that; maybe he was thinking of a drink at home for himself, too?

“It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Afton,” Mrs. Feldman greeted her warmly before glancing towards the man expectantly. She couldn’t remember now if she’d been told that the young woman was married. Afton was her maiden name, wasn’t it? Then did her husband take on her name instead? It wasn’t unheard of but this would be the first time she’d encounter such an odd take on family naming.

“Um, it’s Miss,” Miss Afton corrected sheepishly, her cheeks pink at the faux pax, “I’m not married.”

“Oh! I’m sorry for assuming so,” Mrs. Feldman quickly tried to backtrack embarrassedly, ignoring the little snort from Gregory. She glanced at the unknown man again in time to catch him mid-eyeroll. A flicker of annoyance shot through her mind before she reminded herself that this was Miss Afton’s first Parent-Teacher meeting so of course more of the family would show up rather than be present at Gregory’s enrollment. But an introduction would be nice, so why wasn’t he speaking up? “Then this must be-?” she asked leadingly. Boyfriend? Fiancé? ...Flavor of the week?

“This is Sydney Herrera, my best friend!” Miss Afton introduced brightly, smiling over at the silent man staring at Mrs. Feldman. The teacher twitched just a little, a tiny bit. Why was he staring? What was wrong with him? “We co-parent so I thought it’d be fine to bring him along,” Miss Afton went on without a care in the world.

“Coulda brought Freddy, instead,” Gregory muttered grumpily. Neither his mother or the ‘other parent’ reacted to his words.

Mrs. Feldman could feel her stress levels rising. Maybe this was going to be worse than those in-denial parents after all?

“This is my first Parent-Teacher meeting, so I went looking online for some guidelines on how these are supposed to go,” Miss Afton added, digging through her purse before pulling out a small binder with several pages stuck inside, a label slapped on the cover reading ‘Manual for Parent-Teacher Nights’. She opened it and flipped through some of the papers while Mr. Herrera gave her an exasperated look and then shared it with Gregory, the boy just raising an eyebrow at him and folding his arms over his chest. “According to the manual, we go over his grade progress, social progress, discuss any problems with regards to class behaviors and/or schoolwork, then map out solutions to resolve said problems and generate a follow-up meeting to evaluate post-solution status,” Miss Afton declared in a proud tone.

Yes, stress levels would certainly rise with this one. Pretty face, empty head; no wonder this Mr. Herrera was latched to her. Friend-zoning probably wasn’t a problem for him, Mrs. Feldman thought sourly.

Well, she still had a job to do, and she’d do it to the best of her ability. Not her fault Miss Afton was clearly in over her head at parenting. But with how old Gregory appeared to be and how young Miss Afton looked, it was clear that there was a lot Miss Afton didn’t know about the world and people in general. Tragic.

“Alright, so in terms of grades and schoolwork, Gregory does hold a relatively average score for reading, writing, and history,” Mrs. Feldman began, looking over her notes and examples of the boy’s work while Miss Afton listened attentively. “His scores for math and science are above average, so he does have strengths and interest in some subjects. It’s just that he seems to.. let his mind wander often. As if he can’t keep his attention on anything that isn’t of interest to him.”

“Is that a problem?” Miss Afton asked and she sighed at the question. Typical clueless mother type. “He does his work and his grades aren’t failing, right? I mean they could be better and I’ll talk with him about that but him zoning out between tasks…”

“I wouldn’t be tuned out if she let me draw while she’s talking,” Gregory piped up with a petulant shrug, “Drawing lets me get stuff in my head out so I can focus on this world.”

That was the same excuse he gave her for making those strange doodles about the defunct pizzeria and creepy robot animals. Mrs. Feldman expected the same frustration about it from Miss Afton, but the young woman just gave her son a sympathetic look. Great, so she’s why Gregory behaved in such a manner.

“What you draw might confuse people, Gregory,” Miss Afton told him, “But if you need to do something with your hands, we can ask Mr. Woods if he has a spare fidget cube you can have.”

“Cassie is okay with my comics,” Gregory countered with a huff, “She thinks it’s kind of weird but she’s not confused by it.” He paused for a moment, then sighed, “But fine, we can ask Mr. Woods about it. At least Alex won’t flip his shit if it’s just Mr. Woods we talk to.”

“That’s something else I’d like to speak to you about,” Mrs. Feldman brought up, shaking her head at Gregory’s crudeness, “Gregory’s language is not acceptable. He uses a lot of swear words and vulgarities. Such rude language isn’t tolerated in this classroom or this school.”

“That tends to be normal for Gregory,” Miss Afton sighed in exasperation and looked to her son, “Could you tone it down for school at least?” Gregory made a face at her. Mrs. Feldman was not impressed with the display.

“It would probably be better if we knew where he was learning such language and removed that bad influence,” she suggested to Miss Afton. Clearly the young woman was too innocent to have taught her son these behaviors so the only influence that could be responsible was…. Mrs. Feldman snuck another look at Mr. Herrera who only looked back at her with a deadpan expression. Still unresponsive to everything? Probably didn’t even think he had any responsibility for a kid that wasn’t his. “Do you have anything to say about this, Mr. Herrera?” she asked him crisply.

The man just raised an eyebrow at her before lifting a hand, held it flat like he was about to do a salute, then slashed it sharply under his chin. That looked threatening. Was he threatening her?! Alarm rang in her mind as Miss Afton turned her attention back.

“Oh! Sydney uses sign language to communicate, I keep forgetting to let people know that,” Miss Afton said with a sheepish laugh, “I’m too used to being able to understand him. Do you know sign language? Or can at least understand it? That would make it easier to speak with him directly. But I can translate for you!”

Oh. Oh dear. Mrs. Feldman felt her face heat up from stress and embarrassment. Had Mr. Herrera been staring at her to read her lips? How was she to know the man was deaf?! If people expect her to do her job right, they should tell her these things before she makes a fool of herself!

The man was making gestures at Miss Afton and the young woman was glancing between his hands and his face. Maybe she should have taken some classes on alternative languages, then she’d be able to understand some of what was being discussed in front of her. This felt awkward and a little rude, especially since Miss Afton’s open expression quickly became a faint scowl that was directed at her.

“Did you imply that Gregory swearing was Sydney’s fault?” she demanded and Mrs. Feldman shook her head.

“No, I simply wanted his input on this meeting,” she recovered smoothly, “Since he hasn’t said anything the whole meeting, I assumed he wasn’t as invested in Gregory’s upbringing and education as we are.”

“You assume a lot on very little,” Miss Afton said in a colder tone. She looked a lot less like the bubble-headed woman she first walked in as, and Mrs. Feldman swallowed a little.

The young woman reached into her purse again and pulled out another book, a copy of the school’s manual and regulations. She sat back in her chair and flipped through it idly. “Gregory drawing during your lessons is an accomodation, not a disruption, as outlined in section 3, paragraph 2,” Miss Afton began in a flat and toneless voice, her expression empty of the earlier cheer and brightness, “The lack of documentation in his record for this accomodation was an oversight that will be corrected. You’ll just have to deal with it. Gregory can try to curb his language use but there’s no guarantee he can stop entirely. At best, he’ll just make sure you’re not around to hear it and you can simply not be in places where he will be if you’re not necessary to be there.” She smiled, thin and sharp, “That way you can have plausible deniability within the guidelines of the school manual.” She made a small motion with her free hand in Mr. Herrera’s direction. “I’ll overlook your perceptions of Sydney but I can’t say the same for him. After all, your behavior was clearly a violation of section 1, paragraph 1 of this same manual as well as the official charter for the school. He’s within his rights to bring the matter to the attention of your immediate supervisor.”

That would be bad. She wouldn’t be let go, but she’d have a stain on her reputation in the school. Mrs. Feldman swallowed again, thinking of the looks she would get if that happened because she’d lost control of this meeting. How did this happen?! One minute she had everything well in hand and now it felt like she was facing some sort of corporate overlord throwing down hammers of legalese at her!

Mr. Herrera made a few more gestures that Miss Afton glanced over, her fingers twirling her hair idly, like she hadn’t a care in the world. Gregory just looked bored, but then it wasn’t his butt over the fire, was it? Mrs. Feldman looked between them all, holding herself stiffly. Was she about to get blackmailed? Was that it? Over something they just assumed she was thinking?!

“Hm,” Miss Afton hummed in interest before looking back towards Mrs. Feldman, “Sydney is willing to let things slide if you don’t look too hard at what Gregory does.” Her smile stayed in place but everything felt much scarier, darker, like Mrs. Feldman had stumbled into something she should not have. Could she call the police about this? And say what? “He’s just being a kid, drawing to help him keep his focus, and sure he says a few bad words but I’m sure these kids have heard worse on the internet. As long as he’s not using those words to hurt others, and dials it back in front of authority figures to blend in, it should be fine. Nothing against the manual.” Miss Afton waved the book tauntingly at her. “And maybe you should dial it back on being so judgmental. You’re here to teach kids and support them in education and socializing, not try to control how they behave to conform to your idea of how kids should be. Are we clear?”

Mrs. Feldman pursed her mouth tightly. No threats or anything she could take to the police, and if she tried to claim intimidation, the words were just about Gregory, and the only thing about her directly was that accusation. And if she admitted to that to anyone, she’d just as good as tarnish her reputation herself.

She was stuck, and from the looks of the matching smiles on Miss Afton and Mr. Herrera’s faces they were fully aware of it. She scowled and sat back in her chair. “I suppose we’re in agreement over Gregory’s accommodations moving forward, then,” she said, busying herself with straightening the papers on her desk. “That’ll be all for this meeting, thank you.”

“Pleasure working things out with you!” Miss Afton replied, returning to that bright and cheery tone she had when Mrs. Feldman first saw her as a silly blonde girl too naive to get a grip on her boy. How easily she fell for that front. Shameful!

“I told you she was out to get me,” Gregory chimed in with a roll of his eyes, as if he was the one who’d been suffering all this time. Miss Afton just sighed as she, Mr. Herrera, and Gregory all stood up to leave.

“Not everyone is out to get you,” she retorted and narrowed her eyes when the boy just raised a splayed hand, “That doesn’t count!”

“Therapy says it does.”

“Vincent also said you need a different therapist, so ha!”

The dysfunctional little family finally went out the door, leaving Mrs. Feldman in peace at last. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding and finally relaxed. Frustrating as it was, she was probably better off just letting this slide for her own sake. Those two were still related to Afton Robotics, even if they didn’t seem interested in following the family business. A big enough donation from that company to the school with conditions tacked on could put undue stress on her nerves.

Perhaps she could retire soon and take a well-deserved vacation come summer? Yes, that seemed like a far more lovely idea.

-----------------------------

There weren’t many places where Therese and Enrique could sit for as long as they liked, watching people come and go, and muse to themselves about what kinds of lives they live. They’d done it through high school and college as a way to amuse themselves and come up with stories for their respective work interests, and now that they both had steady jobs in those fields it became a way of staying sharp. And it was just fun to do for the two friends.

“Ooh, I got held up in traffic on the way, what’d I miss? Anything delicious in the tea today?” Enrique gushed as he slid into the bench in Therese’s booth, a plate of vegan pizza and a salad on his tray. Therese slid the extra apple soda she bought in his direction as she glanced over the dining area to be sure everyone else was still in their places.

“There’s a family over there looking like they’re trying to put on a front for a mother-in-law, but they give each other death glares whenever she’s not looking. Maybe a plot to bump MIL off for inheritance money?” she began with a sly little smile. Enrique looked over at the family with a pout, slice of pizza in hand.

“Mm, kind of generic, expected even, not enough drama and pizzazz,” he remarked, “Let them cook a bit more. See if we can get something juicy. What else?” He bit into the pizza with a happy hum as Therese looked for the next scene.

“See that guy sitting in a booth by himself? Comes in, orders a personal pizza and a salad, then sits like the salad is for someone else he’s expecting to join him, but no one ever comes,” she pointed out subtly, “I’m thinking someone in denial that their lover is lost, never to join them for a meal again. Or someone who doesn’t believe they keep getting stood up for a date.”

“Ooh, that’s a little more like it~! Dash of romance, dash of tragedy,” Enrique sighed and fluttered his eyes, “Maybe one day, a cute someone slides into that seat at lasts and eats the salad with him?”

“You can have that one,” Therese offered with a flip of her hand, “Theatre scripts do better with more drama than that, but it seems right up your alley for a rom-com script.” She scanned the dining area as she took a sip of her diet soda, looking for other potential scene-setters. A flash of bright red caught her attention and her eyes zeroed in on the pizzeria’s owner/manager moving towards the front of the restaurant with Circus Baby at her side to greet a small group that just entered.

That was rare, to be personally greeted by the owner rather than the front of house staff, and with the star of the animatronic band, too. Therese glanced over the people that warranted such a greeting and her eyebrows rose. “Hey, that guy’s back!” she whispered excitedly to Enrique, flapping her hand to get his attention before he dove into his salad, “The one you totally had a crush on but then he, like, vanished for a couple years or something?”

“He didn’t ‘vanish’, he just got a job over at the Mega Pizzaplex before some sinkhole tore the place practically in half,” Enrique sighed with a roll of his eyes, face flushing at the reminder, “And it’s not a crush! I just wanted to know where he works out so I can get a membership there, too.”

“So how come you never asked when he worked here?” Therese asked him flatly, folding her arms over her chest.

“Cuz he gave me sleeper agent, retired assassin vibes!” Enrique protested, face still burning red and eyes bright with excitement, “What if me talking to him broke the vibe? How’d I live with myself if I ruined my best muse? You know how many good scripts I got out of just watching him work here? And I got a bonus from the script I wrote up when I saw him at the Pizzaplex!”

Therese knew about a couple of those scripts; she had traded a few romance concepts based on the co-owners of the pizzeria for some of those secret agent and assassin scripts. A little bit of a rewrite and they worked well for fantasy medieval dramas. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Yeah, well, apparently he’s back and he’s with that blonde guard from the Pizzaplex,” she pointed out and the two of them watched the young couple greet the pizzeria owner and Circus Baby. “She’s kinda pretty, in that ‘I don’t know what to do with my life’ kind of way,” Therese added.

“He’s got a different vibe,” Enrique muttered, squinting at the only man in the group of women. He blinked when the subject of his observation made gestures with his hands, the blonde watching him, then speaking to the others. “Huh, so he went from being careful with how he talked to people to just full on not speaking at all. Did something happen while he was working over at the Pizzaplex?” He grinned, “Hey, notice how close he is to his former work buddy there? Think they were more than just co-workers?”

“I dunno, they could just be friends like us,” Therese pointed out, stealing a slice of Enrique’s pizza and picking off the bell peppers.

“I’m gay, what’s his excuse?” Enrique huffed, jerking a thumb at himself. He fished a notepad and pen from his satchel, clicking once and scribbling on a fresh sheet. “Maybe they were investigating shady business practices in the Pizzaplex and grew closer under the pressure to discover what was going on, then something traumatic happens, maybe his newly beloved is threatened with harm, and the fear is so deep that he’s silenced to spare her life!”

“Hm, not exactly your usual rom-com,” Therese told him between bites of pizza. Enrique pulled his plate away from her with a scowl. “Also a little vague, you need to fill in more plot.” She looked back up, watching as Circus Baby excused herself and walked away, probably to get ready for the stage. It was almost time for the scheduled show.

The pizzeria owner started leading the young couple into the dining area and Therese and Enrique turned to their food, trying to listen without looking like they were listening in.

“So that’s the basics of how to start up a pizzeria. Didn’t think I’d be helping out new competition today when I woke up but you’re family and friends, after all,” the owner remarked, gesturing towards a nearby dining table. “Here, have a seat. At least let me treat you to lunch before you head back home.”

“Thanks, Meera. Hopefully our pizzeria will be successful enough that Sydney here won’t run off again,” the blonde woman replied gratefully before giving the man beside her a sly smirk, “He knows what’ll happen if he ditches us again.” Sydney just made a face and she laughed, bumping his arm with her shoulder.

“They’re totally boning,” Enrique whispered to Therese, smug grin on his face.

“Alex will be on break soon, so he can join you guys. Tío Lucian can handle security during the performance for a while,” the pizzeria owner, Meera, told the young couple, “I gotta get back to work but it’s really good to see you both again, without all the fighting. You’ve got a surprisingly good roundhouse kick! We should spar sometime!” Sydney’s expression grew wary and the auburn-haired woman laughed. “Relax! I’m asking Vanessa for a friendly spar, this isn’t me flirting. But I can totally flirt if you’re into that, ‘Nessa~.” She and the blonde laughed, playing it off as teasing while Sydney just rolled his eyes with a grin of fond exasperation.

“Your eyes are doing that sparkle thing again. Stop smiling so big, you’re gonna give us away!” Therese hissed under her breath, flicking the green peppers towards Enrique. Her friend was practically vibrating in his seat, pen scribbling furiously over his pad. He might have been going gaga over a fellow gay shooting her shot, but Therese was more interested in the supposed ‘fight’ the three of them had been in.

Did they throw hands somewhere? What for? What caused them to become friendly after the fact? Enemies to friends was a good trope for a lot of scripts, plenty of material there, and yes, a little romance there would be good to bring in the dating couples to the theatre.

Eventually, the pizzeria owner moved on and the day shift guard for the pizzeria came over to sit at the booth. Therese and Enrique squabbled a bit over the bowl of salad to keep up their cover of not-listening. Now that both men were at the table, it was easy to recognize the day guard as related to Sydney.

“Oh, that’s right. His little brother hung out here while he was working the day shift. Must’ve taken over the job when Sydney left to work at the Pizzaplex,” Enrique remarked with raised eyebrows. “Wonder if this place is hiring them as extra staff?”

“Sounds more like that Vanessa lady is opening her own pizzeria and Sydney’s working for her there. Ooh, brothers in competition! This should give some good material,” Therese murmured happily, taking her own notes on her phone.

“How are your ribs? Finally healed up?” the day guard asked his brother. Therese and Enrique listened attentively, curiosity ramped up by the questions. The guard was holding his phone up, angled to point the camera at Sydney’s hands as the older man gestured with them. “That’s good. You’re lucky you only got a little roughed up by that guy. My background check turned up some info on that client,” the guard, Alex as the pizzeria owner said, explained in a lowered voice, “He’s apparently an admirer of your past self. You showing up as Pantera was practically his idea of a gift from on high for his collection.”

Sydney just face-palmed while Vanessa scowled, cheeks puffing indignantly. “He can’t have him! I hold Sydney’s contract, so I’ve got legal on my side!” she huffed. The three fell into silence as a waiter came by and delivered a large pizza and drinks for them.

“Just saying,” Alex picked up the conversation once the waiter was gone, “if you go back out again as Pantera, steer clear of that guy. I doubt he’ll just give up on you now that he’s convinced himself you’re somehow a descendent of yourself. Those eyes of yours are too unique to not have been ‘inherited’.” The brothers cringed at his words while Vanessa just pinched the bridge of her nose.

“This reminds me of how Afton thought my body would be perfect for Emelia just because I have green eyes like her,” she growled, “It’s stupid. These are our lives! Our identities!”

“Welcome to the paranormal dumbfuckery club,” Alex quipped, uncapping his bottle of soda, “Where our eyes get us into trouble and our souls are the ball in a decades-long game of keep-away from some dipshit who couldn’t handle competition in business. Sydney, stop looking guilty; you didn’t start this shit, you got taken advantage of just like the rest of us.”

Therese and Enrique stared at one another with wide eyes. Whatever was going on with those three, there was just so much juicy gossip, even if stuff didn’t make any sense. Something like this would make for a great thriller, an action movie script maybe, something with suspense and intrigue. Change some names and ages around, fill in the blanks and smooth out the stuff that doesn’t make sense, this could be another good pitch.

“This one would be good for a summer action flick,” Enrique muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he tapped his pen against his pad.

“I dunno, this almost feels too bizarre to be real,” Therese murmured, squinting at the notes on her phone. “Are we being fed bullshit?”

“If it is bullshit, it’s still nourishment for the garden of plot ideas,” her friend countered, scribbling down another idea. “Could do with a role reversal, woman rushing to rescue her kidnapped man from some mafia boss with a thing for mysterious idols. Is that too tacky?”

“We got a lot of good advice and tips from Meera on opening and running a pizzeria, so we should be set on that front,” Vanessa said brightly, clapping her hands together, “No one’s going to be running off to do mercenary work any time soon, got it?”

“I didn’t even get to do anything!” Alex complained while Sydney just flashed a thumb’s up while grabbing a slice of pizza for himself. “All I’ve done so far is just secure our networks here at the pizzeria and at home so it’ll be harder for us to get tracked. Hacking the Pizzaplex network was the closest I got to my old work, and even then the asshole got further in that than I did!”

“Well, now you’ll get to secure the network for our pizzeria, too,” Vanessa told him and looked down at the pizza. “Uh, what kind of pizza is this? Looks like something we served at El Chip’s.”

“Taco pizza. It’s one of the asshole’s ideas for a signature dish,” Alex sighed, pulling a slice out to eat, “Don’t tell him, but it actually does taste good. I just don’t wanna give him the satisfaction of knowing I said that.”

“Bored now,” Enrique mumbled around his straw as he took another drink of his soda. Therese nodded in agreement, tapping out some more notes about a potential script idea with a jealous king and a clever knight and a princess caught in a trap. “I got a lot of great material to work with though. You?”

“I think I’ve got enough to create a full schedule of shows. Same time next week?” Therese asked as she got up and flicked through her wallet to leave a tip. Music began drifting from the stage as the curtain rose, Circus Baby stepping out in a strut to the beat. “She’s circus themed but I swear some joker programmed her to perform like a flamenco dancer,” she remarked with a squint at the animatronic swirling on stage with rapid steps and taps.

“Not like the kids watching her would know the difference. Yeah, same time next week,” Enrique replied and walked off cheerfully, “I’ll pick up the tip next time! Get that bag, girl!”

Therese gave the group at the nearby booth one last glance before shouldering her bag and heading out. Whatever was going on with them sounded pretty bizarre for such a normal-looking bunch, but it wasn’t her problem anyway. People watching today brought in a rich bounty of script ideas. Maybe she should keep an eye out for when this new pizzeria would open and add that to the list of places she and Enrique hit up for ideas. Wouldn’t do to let a fountain of inspiration disappear on them again.

--------------------------------------

“Huh, that the new kid over there?” Toby asked over his lunch of burger and fries, blinking at a pair of figures sitting at a table near the cafeteria exit. His companions turned to look as well before returning to their own food.

“That Gregory guy? He’s been here a couple weeks already so not that new,” Christine replied flippantly, swinging her legs as she dipped her fries into her cup of ice cream to eat. “Kinda cute in that ‘I can fix him’ sort of way. Cassie hangs out with him and I heard from Millie who heard from Bobby who overheard them talking about the Pizzaplex one time that that’s where they met so him saying he just moved here last month is a total lie.”

“Why would he lie about when he moved here? This place is the most boring town in the world. Like nothing happens here,” Frank complained, eyeing her fries with disgust.

“What about all those people that kept disappearing from their houses or the Pizzaplex or that one game studio or a whole pizzeria just up and vanishing overnight?” Toby pointed out dryly.

“Conspiracies! No way can so many people just vanish and nobody does anything about it or looks into what caused it!” Frank shot back and folded his arms over his chest, wrinkling his immaculately pressed shirt. Toby and Christine shared a look over their milk cartons; it would just be a matter of time before he complained about that too. “Anyway, what if he’s under witness protection and had to lie about when he moved here to protect himself?”

“His name is Gregory Afton,” Christine replied sarcastically, “If that’s the name he gets under witness protection, they might as well pin a bull’s-eye to his back before letting him get on the bus.” She rolled her eyes and looked back over at Cassie rubbing Gregory’s back as the boy pressed his hands to his eyes and forehead. “Every time I see that guy, he always looks like he’s in pain. I hope he has medicine with the nurse for it,” she added with a concerned look.

“If his last name’s Afton, is he related to the company that made the animatronics for the Pizzaplex?” Toby mused aloud, “Maybe he knows when that place will reopen?” The other two kids shrugged, and he pouted. “You guys suck. That place was awesome and then it closed down and got swarmed by cops, and then an earthquake wrecks it more.”

“God, if you want pizza and animatronic entertainment so bad, just go to Circus Baby’s,” Christine told him in annoyance, “The food actually tastes like the cooks give a crap and Circus Baby takes song requests if she’s in a good mood.”

“She never takes any of my requests,” Frank grumbled as he looked down at his wrinkled shirt in distaste and Christine rolled her eyes again.

“No duh. You keep asking for anime songs from a clown performer,” she replied dryly, “She looked like she was five seconds away from kicking you in the head and I would have cheered her on. Listen to Hatsune Miku on your phone; don’t traumatize the robot.”

Chairs scraping the floor pulled their attention back to Cassie and Gregory, and the three of them watched as they left their trays on the table. Gregory had one arm slung across Cassie’s shoulders, the girl helping him stay upright as he clutched at his head with a grimace. Side by side, they shuffled through the exit, slipping out of the cafeteria and probably heading for the nurse’s office.

“Y’know, he showed up here after the Pizzaplex closed and got hit with the cops. Think he had something to do with that?” Toby questioned thoughtfully.

“He’s a kid like us,” Christine told him flatly and pointed her dipped fries at Frank, “Don’t start sounding like him.”

“What if he’s actually a robot who ran away from the Pizzaplex?” Frank whispered in dawning horror, eyes wide and distant. Christine looked at him in disgust before shooting Toby a glare.

“You set him off again!”

“Sorry. But at least we’ll have something for our podcast after school?”

“It’s going to sound so dumb. If we go on the internet and say Gregory’s a secret Afton robot, we’re gonna lose so many listeners. Who would actually believe that?!”

Toby shrugged at her deadpan expression, a mischievous grin on his face, “It’s just a theory.”

#fnaf fanfiction #fnaf gregory #fnaf vanessa #sydney herrera #alex herrera #herrera brothers #fnaf cassie #parlourverse au #fnaf au

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