#and a lot of em are pretty grey | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ccrites · 7 months ago

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chokehold

listen, I've had this idea in my wips for a while (since the begnining of the year actually) and the fat reader worms have been wiggling in third gear with all the awesome stuff early ( @391780 ) has been putting out lately. So have 6.4k words of Soap being an absolute pussy eating freak but you know you love him

(also on ao3 if you prefer the formatting there, or if you want to drop a kudo)

The second the doors swing back closed behind you, you start feeling the scratchy feeling of doubt at the back of your throat.

It was predictable, really.

A small gym in a small town, heads turn when the hinges creak, not because they’re staring at you specifically, but because it’s a reflex.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself to keep the scratchy feeling from turning sour in your mouth. Or make you throw up from embarrassment.

Perhaps your New Year’s resolution should’ve been to start on a home gym type of situation. Buy yourself some girly weights, a mat, and some sort of stepping device, and do those easy exercises every slim, pretty, high-ponytailed YouTube instructor seemed to preconize people out of shape do. Like a hamster on a wheel inside their cage. A rat chasing its own tail, maybe.

No, you promised yourself no more fake promises. Perhaps the money spent on the gym membership (stupid fucking New Year’s promotion) would motivate you to use it, lest it’s just money down the drain.

You wore the stretchiest, thickest pair of black leggings you owned, hoping no one would see the terrible shape of your underwear through it. On the opposite spectrum of things, you knew the largest hoodie you owned would smother you and make you boil with sweat, so you chose the next best thing: the widest black t-shirt you owned. It was definitely not black enough, the dye faded into a dark gray from use over the years, but it was the only thing that camouflaged your body enough from the others’ sight. God forbid they imagine what your body actually looks like underneath.

The heads pretty quickly turned back around as you started walking towards the empty treadmills. It couldn’t have been more than a second, but the combined weight of at least a dozen pairs of scrutinizing eyes would’ve been enough to make you turn on your heels and back to your car, fuck the membership price.

At the very least, you could convince yourself that walking in place (no better than a hamster on its wheel but oh well) would be enough to get you started. Baby steps, and all.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize the treadmill fucking sucks. Why would anyone suggest looking at a parking lot while suffering instead of the pretty scenery of a park or forest (while also suffering, but still).

The timer you’d set for the warm-up (ten minutes, just like the pretty blonde coach suggested!) crawls by way too slowly for your taste. You’d be all but whooping with joy when it beeps if you weren’t so out of breath and conscious of a gaze on you.

You’d seen him as soon as you walked in.

Between figures of balding men trying to get rid of their beer gut with abs, two thin women whispering to themselves in a corner while trying to look inconspicuous, and a few other, completely average-looking men and women, there he stands, eyes meeting yours in the mirror as he deadlifts an impressive amount of black plates.

He immediately looks straight ahead, correcting his stance, as if there were anything to be corrected, in your unathletic opinion. The muscles in his arms bulge even through the thin, grey hoodie, and the ones in his legs coil tight as the weight is lifted off the ground in a slow, controlled motion. Not even a grunt escapes his lips, at least no one you could hear from where you stood, completely mesmerized.

There was always something almost unappealing about overly muscled men. Their wife’s not feedin’ ‘em enough, your granny would grumble when passing by the rows of magazines at the checkout of the supermarket.

Yet this man.

Yeah, he was muscled. But in a way, he looked… almost normal. Like he was built for strength, not necessarily vanity. Each bend of his legs, each twist of his arms…

You’d swoon if you hadn’t lowered your standards so low he’d trip on them. Accepted it a long time ago. Fats belong with fats, thins with thins, and if there’s a thin with a fat, either one’s getting fattened up, or the other’s getting dumped. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, and one you’d rather not be a part of.

You walk with shaky legs to the water dispenser, then get ready to grab the second to lightest weights to try some bicep curls.

You try to remember the positioning from the videos. Rotate in… or out? Should the wrists be like this? You go through ten repetitions on each side, before you think that you should’ve gone for the abs straight away. God knows there’s fat to burn there, and that the flab under your arms can wait.

You turn back from the rack and walk straight into a wall.

No, a chest.

Fuck.

“Sorry there, miss,” says a deep voice. You detect some sort of accent, unable to quite place it right away.

Your eyes run up, instinctively stopping for a second at chest level (holy heavens that’s a Chest with a capital C if you’ve ever seen one) before finally meeting that same pair of eyes you met a few minutes ago, through the mirror.

Double fuck.

“S-sorry, it’s me, wasn’t watching,” you stammer out, gesturing to the weights in a panicked way. “Just, y’know, switching exercises,” you sputter with a nervous laugh, like it was a completely normal thing to switch exercises after one rep.

He chuckles, and you really need to start planning your escape, because holy shit the way his pectorals rise and fall as his chest puffs up is getting a bit too much for your poor little humiliated self to handle, but he doesn’t let you as he speaks in a soft tone.

“I’m getting arms aren’t really your thing, eh?” he asks, not unkindly. Gosh, did it have to be a Scottish accent?

You can’t meet his eyes, they’re too blue, too piercing for your liking. “To be fair I don’t know what’s my thing yet, I’m just starting out, y’know?” you shift your weight on your legs, conscious of the size difference, and not in the way you wanted to be. Your neck is very warm all of a sudden.

He laughs again, like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and you almost want the floor to open up and swallow you whole, but the words that come out of his mouth are completely unexpected.

“Figured! A girl with thighs like yours, I’m sure you can deadlift more than me with just a lil’ training. I’m Johnny, by the way,” he adds in passing, as if offering his name is the least of his concerns. “You ever got someone to train you?”

You’re entirely unsure if you’re dreaming or not. Did this Scottish hunk of muscle really just offer to be your personal trainer?

“Never - uh… lifted anything, I guess. Just when moving, my couch and bed and all, but I had a friend help me.” You definitely feel like you’re oversharing and you’re struggling to ignore the weight of the gaze of the two thin women, burning through you as they whisper among themselves, when you realize you hadn't answered the second part. “Oh and, uh– no. I’ve never… trained. Been trained. It’s my first time in a gym since- a while. I don’t want to bother you.”

You finally look up at him, and you’re unable to read his expression. There’s a sort of curiosity, a fascination, that blends fast into a wide-eyed joy that’s so open, so sincere that it makes your head spin as he gently but firmly grabs your wrist and pulls you where his bar stands on the thick mat, ignoring your sputtering protests. “Not a bother at all, lass!” He lets go of you as he bends down and effortlessly racks the barbell, starting to remove plates as he continues. “We can start by measuring your max lift, then the one where you can easily do three reps, then we’ll hike it up till failure, so I can calculate your starting training weight!” he rambles on excitedly. You nervously shift on your feet, conscious of more curious gazes on you, but then he’s back in your bubble, pulling your attention towards him like a magnet.

His smile is like a blazing sun, and you don’t have the heart to tell him to prepare for disappointment.

He’s infinitely patient as he shows you how to place your feet, and the angle of your hips (oh, how you feel your knee weaken at the feel of his light tough through the leggings, nothing short of electrifying, despite being perfectly friendly), the hold on the bar. It’s all a blur till you find yourself bent over in front of him, looking in the mirror at your position and trying not to feel conscious of the way he’s placed behind you. Or let your mind wander in inappropriate places.

“Whenever yer ready, hen.”

You brace yourself, close your eyes for a brief second, wondering how the hell you’d landed on this planet, then breathe in, open your eyes-

The weight is in your hands. Not on the floor. You’re holding it.

You almost drop it when he cheers behind you, warm palms rubbing down from your shoulders to your elbows and back up. “Easy! I told you you’d be a natural! ‘S all in the legs and you’ve got awesome legs, bonnie! Let’s add twenty more.”

It’s a blur of racking and de-racking and lifting once and setting back, and redoing it again and again. You’re out of breath, sweating like a sinner in church, but you’re smiling along with him, finding yourself giving him double high fives, and doing small, excited jumps.

“Next one’s exactly my weight, if y’can lift that, I’ll be losing my bloody mind! D’you realize how well yer doin’ for a first-timer?” He says as he bends next to you, adjusting the bar for the next set of weights. With a wipe of his forearm over his forehead, he crouches slightly down, placing his head right above your shoulder and looking your reflection in the mirror straight in the eyes with a conspiratory grin. “Swear to God, if ye can lift it off the ground, I’m buying you the most expensive drink at the bar next door!” he says, grin blending into a blinding smile, too genuine for your own good.

He’s just friendly, just friendly, just friendly, you say to yourself like a mantra as you position yourself. He stands again to his full height behind you, hands ready under the bar, a safenet.

Deep breath in– hold it…

Slowly but surely, you lift the weight off the floor, your ears ringing from the effort. You see his lips move as he cheers you on, but the blood pumping in your eardrums makes it impossible to hear him. Suddenly, the weight is back on the ground and your feet are off the floor as you’re lifted in a tight embrace and spun around like you weigh nothing.

You yelp and flail but he’s holding you tight, face pressed smack-dab in the middle of your chest, between your tits, rumbling praises about your prowess while you’re trying to figure out whether this can be something that your brain is capable of summoning as a dream.

“Put me down, Johnny, oh my God, put me down!”

He thankfully complies but not before squeezing your ass tighter, and suddenly nothing feels real anymore.

“Jesus, I knew ye were perfect,” he says, pulling back reluctantly to rerack the bar and put back the weights. “I cannot wait to properly start training ye’ tomorrow, but for now, I have a promise ta’ keep, and, uh, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind using those strong thighs as earmuffs with this freezin’ weather. On the way back from the bar, what d’ya say?” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows with a crooked smile that lets you know he’s joking around. (Is he?)

You laugh with him and for a second, you forget what you were here for.

+++

The way to the bar is short. It was just a block away (Good for business, he jokes), but the conversation with Johnny made time really fly by.

He seems genuinely glad when you tell him you’d decided to head to the gym not just as a New Year’s resolution, but trying to simply become a better you. There’s no condescendence, no talking down, no (God forbid) pity, just an overall nice interaction the whole time. He tells you about being on leave as a soldier (Medical leave, he specifies, a fucked up knee can work in a gym, but it’s a different story out in the field), you tell him about your studies and how that led into a “big girl” job that left you no time for yourself.

“But I’ve always been a big girl,” you feel the need to justify. “Just… gotten bigger as I stopped finding time to move. The desk and the laptop are pretty stationary,” you joke, still trying to make sense of why a man like him (broad, and tall, and strong, and… gosh, just perfect-looking) would even deign to accept being seen with you.

(It’s not a date, you dumbass)

“I happen to like big girls,” is what you don’t expect him to say.

Wait, what?

His blue eyes glue you to your seat, and you respond dumbly. “What?”

“I mean, why do you think I’d offer to train you?” he continues, placing his hand, big and warm over your thigh. It’s squished as you sit, wide and flattened in your seat, yet his hand covers a good amount, almost covering the whole width.

Your brain is short-circuiting but you have to answer something.

“Out of– uh… out of niceness?” you stammer out, feeling your insecurities climb back out of the hole they’d been sleeping in all this time, making you shrink even more, trying to cover yourself as if he didn’t see right through you with that piercing gaze. “To feel good seeing you be the reason I lose weight?”

He chuckles, squeezing your thigh as his head hangs down, almost as if to hide the smile that spreads on his lips.

“Strength training doesn’t work like that, bonnie.” He looks back up, and his eyes are blue, and wide, and so pretty, that you can’t find anything to argue back. “Ye’ think building glutes underneath that fat arse does anything but make it bigger?” He shifts, inching closer as he licks his lips and drops his voice lower. “Ye’ think growing your quads will make this,” he gives an even firmer squeeze, wiggling the fat back and forth, and you tense under his grip, but he’s got you pinned down, “any less wide and soft?”

He presses closer, and the booth has no escape room, you’re practically squeezed into the corner as he pushes his body against yours, bending to whisper lowly in the crook of your neck.

“I did not joke when I said I want yer pretty thighs wrapped tight around my head.”

You can’t be blamed when you don’t remember how you ended up in the back of a cab, Johnny barely taking the time to bark an address to the poor driver and throw fifty quid on the front seat before kissing you absolutely senseless, shamelessly groping your tits with a hand and wrapping the other around your thigh, squeezing you close.

You should probably think more about going home with basically a stranger, no matter how hot, but when he presses his entire palm against your cunt, cupping it over the quickly dampening pair of leggings that didn’t seem so thick anymore, you can’t think at all. He swallows your quiet moans, and hums contently against your lips, taking each gasp for air as an invitation to slither his tongue into your mouth. God, you’d forgotten what a good makeout session was like, and you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed when you see the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror, instantly looking away when you see him staring.

Johnny doesn’t seem to mind either, and when he notices you looking in the front again and again, he crowds you against the door behind the driver with a huff, half-climbing over you until his knee is pressed against your core, and the only thing in your field of vision is him.

“Johnny,” you try to say, but it’s getting hard to think, with the way you’re being squeezed in a corner, this hunk of a man of pure muscle pressing against you like a weighted blanket, kissing you like you were a drop of water in the desert and he was a parched man drinking you for his salvation. You feel his excitement pressed against your thigh, and it gives you enough lucidity to try again. “Johnny,” you gasp out again, “aren’t we going a little fast?”

He laughs instead, choosing to focus on the side of your mouth, pressing fervent little kisses down your neck before starting to suckle the delicate skin over where your clavicle is. “I can go as slow as you’d like, bun.” He takes the spot an inch next to the previous one into his mouth and sucks again, this time more forcefully, marking you, and oh God you’re going to have to conceal it before work tomorrow, unless you can find a turtleneck to wear–

The cab driver clears his throat, and you notice that the car is stopped in front of a small apartment complex. Johnny says a cordial thanks as he pulls you out of the car and throws another twenty on the backseat, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and taking all of the thinking out of the equation as he walks you to the entry.

His flat is pretty well furnished, all things considered, but he doesn’t give you enough time to observe the deco as he presses you against the door and slides his hand under your leggings.

“Got me starin’ at that ass the second you walked in, best fuckin’ thing I’ve seen in months, d’ye realize that, bonnie?” he breathes out against your ear as his entire palm cups your sex, and you can only whine as you press your forehead into the crook of his neck. “And by how wet this pussy is, I think you liked starin’ at me, too.”

“You are–” you say, but he curls his middle finger in, spreading your lips and spreading the wetness to your clit, making you choke on your words, “-very nice to stare at.”

“Yeah?” you hear the grin in his voice.

“Mmhm,” you nod, as he keeps the back and forth of his finger, never dipping in too far, just keeping you hungry for more.

“Then how’d ye like to stare down at me as I taste this wet cunt of yours?” he purrs in your ear as he stops moving completely, letting the words process.

Brain.exe has stopped functioning.

Had you ever had a boyfriend willing to speak filth like that to you when you were down to do the deed, maybe you would’ve gotten enough practice to know what to answer something sensible and intelligible to that, but as it stands, all you can muster is a very dumb-sounding “Huh?” as you stare back at him.

And that, apparently, is the funniest thing in the world to him, because he dips his head down and laughs, almost like a boyish giggle. Not only does that not stop him from kneeling in front of you, but it also somehow gives him more confidence to keep talking like that.

“How about you look down into my eyes as I eat out your pretty little pussy and make you come around my tongue, how’s that sound?” His baby blues bear no trace of maliciousness, no trace of a joke, as his fingers hook around the waistband and trace it around your stomach. You have to make a very conscious effort not to suck it in immediately in preparation for the letdown, but he doesn’t pull them down yet, only moving his hand alongside the edge. Your silence as you try to process what is happening only seems to spur him on instead. “In fact, how about you close your eyes, I close mine, and you hold my head close as I devour you, would you let me do that, pretty girl?”

“I’m not-” you can’t think of any way to properly let him down, not when he looks up with such pleading eyes, so the words stumble out gracelessly. “I’m sweaty, you don’t wanna–”

But he interrupts as he pulls your leg closer by gripping your thigh and squishing it against his cheek “But I do.” He inhales deeply, and your own breath shakes at the sight of how blissed out he already looks. “God, I want it. Let me have this.”

A voice somewhere inside yells at you that this has to be some sort of weird fetish, and that he most certainly won’t be having the same aura of desperation around him tomorrow, when post-coital rationale shows up and he sees your body past the veil of lust, but for now, you think that getting some with Johnny cannot be that bad compared to any one of your past encounters. Might as well enjoy it when you still can.

You wrap your hand around the one he still has around your waistband, and see his face positively light up as you softly caress his cheek.

In the end, you’re the one that pleads.

“Johnny, please.”

Your pants are off you and your leg is over his shoulder before you realize what is happening.

The feel of his warm tongue against your slit makes any thought, any doubt, any fear positively vanish, and the content sigh that he lets out as he licks at you is the same sigh as finally removing a bra at the end of a long day, it’s the sigh of laying down carelessly onto a soft bed after standing up for hours, it’s the sigh of the first bite of the best meal a man has after starving for weeks.

It should be awkward the way his arm wraps around your thigh and sinks into the softness of your stomach, using it to pin you up as he uses his other hand to spread you out enough for him to work his jaw the same way he did when he was making out with you in the car… Yet it’s not. It’s natural, the way his hand squeezes you as he licks, and sucks, and kisses around your pussy, unhurried yet passionate, languidly but firmly, pressing his tongue in, licking around your lips, and maddeningly avoiding the place you wanted him to touch most.

“Johnny,” you moan as he grazes his teeth around your sensitive nub in response. You almost buck out of his hold, but he’s firmly keeping you in place. “Please, don’t tease.”

He hums in response and dives back in, eyes fluttering closed as he ignores your whines. Every time his tongue or lips graze your clit, he works his mouth the opposite way, holding your thigh harder and pressing his palm up as he counters your hip movements with a clever swipe of the tongue. It’s absolutely maddening. “Johnny, please!”

He chuckles as he pulls back, an obscene string of spit lengthening as he pulls back, only breaking when he runs his tongue against his reddened, swollen lips. “Thought ye’ wanted me ta’ go slow, bun.” His eyes sparkle with challenge, but you can also discern a veil of unhidden desperation, of waiting for you to give the go-ahead for him to let loose.

“I’m fine with faster–” you start, but the words dissolve into a barely restrained moan as he hikes your leg up more, getting you closer to him, and immediately singling onto your neglected clit.

His forehead rests onto your belly now, and if you had more than two functioning neurons you’d wonder how he is that he’s breathing, but his hums and moans let you know that he’s perfectly content burrowing his nose in your pussy, nudging at your clit with the tip of it as he licks you with all the dedication you’ve never been shown from a man of his caliber.

He builds it up, and soothes it down, knowing exactly when to put more pressure, or when to teasingly swirl his tongue around your entrance, or to lave broad strokes of his tongue, so much so that the knee that’s not hooked over his shoulder almost gives out on a particularly forceful suck of your clit.

“Easy there,” he groans almost petulantly, as if you’re interrupting him. “Can’t have you fallin’ over when I’m not done wit’ ye.”

“My legs are gonna give out,” you say honestly, trying to catch your breath and avoid having the perfect man at your feet steal it again. “You’re a bit too good at this.” He grins up at you, “Am I?” and you want to give you a playful swat, but instead decide on carding your fingers through his now disheveled mohawk. “Guess the mess on my face speaks for itself… Shall we take this to the bedroom?”

You throw a glance around the apartment, assessing your options. “Couch is closer.” His smile is blinding. “I like how ye’ think.”

It’s now the second time he surprises you by scooping your legs from under you and picking you up like he couldn’t wait any longer and that carrying you bridal-style was the only way he could think of moving you. You yelp out a protest but he swallows it with another hungry kiss, shamelessly smearing your own wetness over your cheek as he walks you both to the couch.

You sink into the cushions where he places you gently without so much as a grunt of effort, and oh God, there they are, the standards are rising.

You reach over to pull him closer as he straightens up, but he only gives you a peck on the lips in return, like he hadn’t been kissing you sloppily the entire time.

“Come back,” you whine, hoping you can get it done before he comes back to his senses, like they all do, but he just smiles and kneels between your feet, hands pressing your thighs apart. The squelch of your lips parting should be embarrassing were he not looking up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, eyes full of adoration, like a child staring up at the full moon on full display on a clear night’s skies. Maybe you are his moon, his goddess, judging by the lust-clouded look directed at you.

“I did say I was gonna make you come on my face,” he says lowly, the gravel in his voice making you squirm as he places a trail of kisses up your thigh. “And I intend to keep that promise.”

With that, he dives in again, using his forearms to pin your legs open on the couch and his fingers to tease around where his tongue can’t reach. You mewl when you feel his tongue at your entrance, circling it around it briefly before delving in as deep as he could, his right hand stroking your clit rhythmically. The fact that he’s so good at somehow playing all your buttons like a maestro directing an orchestra has you thinking that he must be some sort of womanizer, some freak who does this kind of thing every night, but then his lips wrap around your nub and he gives a firm, long suck, and any restriction that you could’ve conjured up simply vanishes. Your thighs want to close around his head, but you can’t move under the iron grip he has on you.

You fist his hair more forcefully than necessary, and he looks up, wet eyelashes framing his beautiful eyes as he hums in response.

“Please,” you moan, and he hums affirmatively again, closing his eyes to focus on licking and suckling harder. He heard you, he simply doesn’t seem to care. “Johnny.”

“What,” he asks, voice muffled and why is this so hot?

“I need… I need,” you whine, unable to string the words together, and desperately trying to buck your hips under him, for lack of strength to actually close your thighs how you want to.

That seems to get his attention, and he chuckles, before pulling back with a gentle kiss on your mound. “Guess you’ll have to keep tryin’, pet,” he sussurs, a condescending pat on your thighs before he dives in slower than before.

Oh, the absolute asshole. Now he wants you to work for it?

You think that doing the opposite, relaxing your thighs open and letting him go to town however he wanted would help, but he seems hell-bent on riling you up every once in a while, getting you closer and closer with each lave of his tongue over your poor, overstimulated clit, but never enough to actually push you over the edge.

After what seems like an eternity, and almost, almost starting to think that this was a mistake, halfway ready to let him do this thing before your hip starts to cramp up, you feel a finger nudge at your entrance.

“Fucking finally–” you start, ready to curse him out, but he’s faster than you can think in your blissed-out state, and he slides a second finger alongside the first one, immediately zeroing in on that spot that makes you go cross-eyed and buck under his hold.

“Thassit– there you go, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your clit, and oh, okay, maybe you were closer than you thought, because the rhythmic curl of his fingers doesn’t need to last long before you’re off like an arrow, back arching and thighs squeezing, coming harder than you ever thought was possible. If he were any less skilled at making you completely lose the ability to think, you’d maybe notice that you’d managed to close your thighs almost completely around his head, but he wasn’t, so you don’t, twitching helplessly in the aftershocks of the most wonderful orgasm a man had ever given you.

Limbs that somehow still belong to your body hang uselessly off the side of the couch, and you struggle to catch your breath. You blink lazily, noticing him smugly wipe his face with the back of his hand, his half lidded eyes not any less blissed-out than yours.

You didn’t believe a man like this ever existed, until now. It aches that this might not be something that would last, so you make grabby hands at him, unable to find the will to speak just yet.

He laughs softly and gently grabs your arms, kissing from your knuckles slowly up your arm, to the crook of your neck. The patience he has is almost inhuman, as he takes the time to let you regather your senses, matching the marks he made earlier on the other side of your neck. You cup your hand around his head in response, and he smiles at you.

“Ye’ with me, bun?”

“Mmhm.”

“That slow enough fer’ ye’?” He holds himself up, an inch fron your face, and you reach up to kiss him.

“I’m gonna kill you dead,” you mutter against his lips, and he chuckles.

“Let me at least fuck you properly, first,” he whispers, and you notice that he’s long since unbuttoned his pants. You barely get a view of the massive size of him over your belly as he holds himself in his hand, large palm not enough to cover the whole length of him as he strokes himself, angled in such way that his tip rubs against your clit on each downstroke. The word “Please,” is not even halfway out of your mouth when he sinks into you in one swift motion, the rest dissolving into a long, drawn-out moan.

“Fuck-” he grunts, “so tight, cannot believe it.”

He guides one of your legs to wrap around him, keeping it flush against his body with his elbow as his palm grips your ass tightly, the other holding him against the backrest, forearm near your head as he pulls you closer for a sloppy kiss as he starts rolling his hips. You moan into his mouth and he swallows them greedily, leveraging each trust of his hips with a pull with his hand, helping you move in tandem with him, readjusting when your thigh threatens to slip out of his hold. The slaps of his pelvis to yours should sound obscene, his hard muscles hitting against your soft, jiggly skin, but his groans into your mouth are like music to your ears, the fact that he’s vocal about it has you almost reaching your peak again in no time, but he seems to sense it, and slows down immediately.

You try to kiss him harder, but he makes a small noise of protest, muttering something that sounds vaguely like “no, let me, let me just–” and you want to ask what he wants to do, to help him, but he instead reaches down both hands to grab your hips and pull you off the backrest. You yelp as your ass suddenly hangs in the air, his cock speared inside you the only secure point as he pulls you halfway off the couch, but he directs you firmly, “Here, around me,” helping you wrap your legs tightly as he starts thrusting again, harder than before.

“Oh, God, oh God,” you flail around, but each thrust in pushes your back into the cushions, and he reaches behind his back to hold your feet in his hand as he presses his palm near your head for support, spewing more filth as he does.

“That’s it, hold me tight, squeeze my cock like ye’ almost squeezed mah heid off earlier, huh, bonnie? Show me what those thighs can do, fuck-”

Your whole body is jiggling with each thrust, and you don’t have it in you to even feel self-conscious with the way each time he fills you, the tip of his cock nudges against the spongey spot inside, making you mewl in tempo with his relentless rhythm.

“Johnny, Johnny,” you moan, and he bends over to kiss you again, swallowing his name like communion while you chant it like a prayer.

“Don’t give up now, bonnie, keep squeezin’, fuck, I can feel ye’, yer so close.”

You try to get some leverage with your upper body, trying to push yourself up the cushions, but his cock suddenly slips out of you as your thighs almost give out, and an apology is already halfway out your mouth when he kneels back down and burrows between your legs, tongue first with a rushed “Need ta’ taste us, fuck, both of us, together-”

One hand wraps around your hip and over your pelvis, reaching up to knead desperately at your stomach, to pull you closer or push you away, you can’t tell, the other pulling your lips apart to settle his entire lower face against your pussy firmly– before letting go as he starts humming.

Your thighs are free to squeeze around his ears, and he nods encouragingly as he keeps licking, and then you hear it: the sounds of wet stroking. You don’t see him fisting his cock, but you hear it, fast and desperate. As your hand tangles in his hair to pull him closer, and another hum– no, another moan vibrates through your core, it’s the last thing you hear before you’re absolutely gone, gasping out a curse as you tense up in his hold, trembling as you come.

It’s even more intense than the first one, and as you buck out of his hold, he stands up shakily, his hand moving faster and faster around his cock, the angry red of his tip at the same level as your face. You gesture for him to sit down, trying to signal to him that you want to reciprocate despite the post-orgasmic haze and exhaustion, but he shakes his head, and, seconds later, you feel warm wetness land on your belly and slowly trickle down as he moans your name when he comes.

You feel like you still have to give something back, and, when he slumps down next to you with a content sigh, you climb over to place a delicate kiss on the tip of his cock, letting out a huff of laughter when it twitches under your touch.

“Ye’ absolute menace,” he whispers fondly as he pulls you up and tips his body to the side to lie down, using his legs to push you up halfway over him, trapping you between his body and the cushions, yet protectively shielding you from falling over. You place another kiss on his stomach, and you see his abs tense under your touch as your warm breath moves his hairs as you hover for a second, before deciding to shift up and use his pectorals as a cushion. He hums softly as his arm wraps around under yours, reaching to pull the plaid off the back of the couch and settle it around you both. Ticklish, eh? That’s a piece of information best stored for later.

You’re still breathless, absolutely done for. God, best decision of your life, going to the gym. “Now what?” you can’t help but ask. It’s the same fear that always creeps up, the fear that he got to try out a fantasy, and now that he was done with it, he had no need to want to continue anything possibly serious. Not that eating a girl out on a first date, if you could even call it a date, was a sign of a one-night stand, you can’t help but feel awkward and insecure now that it’s all done, despite the comforting cuddle.

He chuckles in response, that same chuckle from earlier in the day, a What a silly question chuckle. Like he’d read into your thoughts and insecurities and found them absolutely laughable.

“Same time at the gym, tomorrow? I want you to squeeze my head off next time.”

“Next time, huh?”

He pulls your leg over his pelvis, trapping his still half-mast cock between his belly and the crook of your knee, hand firmly wrapped to shift you up, almost completely on top of him. When both of you are comfortable and you start feeling the tendrils of sleep pull you deeper, he gives a last, playful squeeze to your ass.

“Next time.”

#cc writes #soap #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #fat reader #chubby reader #john soap mactavish x fat reader #pwp #call of duty #fanfiction #call of duty fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod #plus size reader #john soap mactavish #my man knows how to eat pussy and he ENJOYS it #ignore my attempt at writing his scottish accent i tried okay?

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ilovetulips · 2 years ago

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fem!reader x older!tattooartist!eddiemunson

part 2 !

WARNINGS : smut 18+ pls ,, age gap (ages aren’t rlly mentioned but r is 21, e is 39) ,, p in v and all the stuff that comes w it ,, lots of petnames ,, use of yn!

A/N : first smut ive ever written. so scared rn. hope u all like it

———

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t absolutely petrified walking into the small hallway containing each tattooist’s room. your legs were shaking and your heart was pounding, so much so that your vision blurred as you stepped up to your assigned room.

“eddie munson”, you could eventually make out from the sign on the door.

entering the spacious room, you look around and take in the darkened walls littered with various drawings, the long bed on the left side covered in cellophane and the faint sound of music playing.

it took you a while to finally catch sight of the mess of dark curls on the right hand side, bopping his head to the music slightly, small grey hairs shining in the light and his hand scratching his pencil against the paper below him.

“h…hi.” you voice squeaked out in a stutter, sounding completely different to how you usually speak.

“can i help you?” he barks out rudely, not even turning to look at you.

“oh i’m sorry, i must’ve got the wrong room. sorry for disturbing you.” you begin to back out of the doorway behind you, before his brown eyes shoot up and meet yours.

“shit- sorry sweet thing, thought you were maria from next door. c’mere, sit down.” he gives you a cheesy smile while his eyes widen slightly. “you my 2 o’clock, yeah?”

your palms shine with a thin layer of sweat, originating from both excitement and nerves. “mhm, should be under the name y/n.”

“gottcha sweetheart, beautiful name. what’s a sweet thing like you doing in a place like this, hm?”he rolls over in his chair to where you’re sat on the bed, placing his large palms over your trembling knees.

he smirks down at them before focusing on you, his pupils blowing out and looking at your lips every now and then.

“it’s m’first tattoo… can you tell?” you look up at him shyly through your eyelashes, his face intimidating you - not that you were scared of him, he was just really attractive.

“yeah, you’re shakin’ like a leaf doll, but i’m here to help ya stay calm. whattcha thinking of getting?” he tucks a stray hair of your behind your ear before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

god his arms were consumed in ink, only adding to his attractive qualities.

———

you spoke to eddie about the design, placement and all necessary paperwork before you were relaxed on the bed, laying on your side and watching the boy prep his tattoo machine.

you had a few voice cracks and stuttered a bit while talking to him, mostly due to his stare shrinking you, but he had made you feel extremely calm while prepping you.

“mkay doll, gonna need you to lift that shirt up a tad for me n’ we’ll get started. no rush, you tell me when you’re ready and when you wanna stop. can you do that for me darlin’?” his chair rolls back over to you, his gun ready to go.

you nod your head and reach down to grab the hem of your shirt. you’re stopped, however, when eddie’s calloused hand covers yours.

“words, sweetness. need you to use ‘em.” he taps your skull with his other hand, and pinches the hem of your shirt with the other.

you can’t deny the blush tickling your face is because of him slowly driving you insane, but you’re not going to stop him. “i can do that.”

“for me?” he tilts his head, crows feet creasing around his eyes as he smiles.

“for you.” your lips stay in the oval shape as he moves your shirt himself, yet you can’t take your eyes of his own lips. you have no idea how old he is. late 30s maybe? is this wrong? you shouldn’t feel attracted to someone like 18 years older than you… right?

he catches sight of the band of your bra, all cute and lacy. now it’s his turn to blush slightly. he can’t help the wicked grin spreading across his features, such a pretty girl wearing such a pretty bra.

“now you tell me if it hurts too much, wouldn’t want to cause such a precious girl like you so much pain.” he’s good at this. really good at this. your face was now beet red, and your thighs were unconsciously clenching together. you hoped he wouldn’t notice - he did. and it went straight to his ego.

———

you’re about 15 minutes into the tattoo itself. eddie taking his time and meticulously placing every line with care. you can’t help the small noises you make when it becomes particularly painful, once again hoping he didn’t notice.

he stops with a sigh, the faint bzzing making the silence grow louder, and the tension more suffocating. “sweetheart, if you don’t stop making those pretty noises i’m not gonna make it through this tattoo.”

his darkened pupils look up at you through his curls gracing his forehead. you didn’t know how to react, so you just stared at him with parted lips and slightly widened eyes. you, luckily, were too oblivious to notice the amount of times he had to adjust himself in his pants, and the prominent boner he was sporting right now.

he knew it was “unprofessional”, but he had never had a client like you before. you walk in with a cute little shirt and skirt, lacy underwear and give him doe eyes while moaning to yourself and expect him to not react?

“m sorry… didn’t realise i was doing it.” you look away from him, trying to focus on the artwork on the walls, but only being able to focus on the growing wet patch in your underwear. he has a way with words, and he’s incredibly attractive.

“don’t have to apologise, i like ‘em. but they’re driving me insane over here princess.” he leans down to meet your eyes in front of your head. the tension was so intense you were practically choking on it. he can’t help but reach over and trace your lips with his thumb, pulling your bottom lip down while you let him do it.

“so pretty.” he mumbles, leaning back and patting your thigh before reaching to finish the tattoo. “want you to lie just on your back now, yeah? nearly there doll.” and so you do, until the pleasure pain was so much that you were arching off the bed, your breasts nearly spilling out the top of your shirt.

eddie was glad he was wearing jeans that day, so the wet patch of precum in his boxers wouldn’t soak into their material. you, however, were not glad to be wearing a skirt with such easy access to your underwear, and the larger wet patch soaking them.

“fuck- baby you can’t keep doing that. you’re makin’ it real hard to concentrate over here.” he rubs his hand over his face and reaches for the cup of water on the small table next to him.

“…sorry.” you smile sheepishly. “can we… uh take a break?”

“course princess, you want anythin’?” by anything he means a snack or some water - but you’d hoped the offer was for something else.

you shake your head no before looking back up at the ceiling. that didn’t last long until you could feel someone’s eyes on you - eddie’s.

he was sat, legs spread and arm leaning on it, his veins prominent in the hand pinching his lip. but his eyes were the most captivating, as they were black. full of lust and desire. you saw the affect you had on him, and to be honest you have never felt so attractive or turned on.

you turned your head to look at him, lolling it to the side before contorting your body fulling to the side. your skirt flicked up and caught your hip as you did, revealing your panties and causing eddie to groan.

he clamped his eyes shut before walking over to you, gripping your chin with his pointer finger and thumb and forcing you to look up at him. “i can’t tell if you’re doing this on purpose, or you’re just dumb.” his words shocked you.

“m not doing anything, eds.” you tilt your head to the side slightly, smirking as you did so. you weren’t doing it on purpose yourself, but maybe your body was just reacting naturally to him and doing it to make him look.

“eds? we’re on nickname basis now sweets?” he leaned down, his hot breath fanning across your lips as you squirm under his gaze. you nod dumbly as his hand travels to grip your jaw and rub his thumb across your lips again. you were practically panting, desperately trying to relieve yourself without him realising.

“you gone all shy now? after that whole performance?” he presses his lips to the base of your throat, peppering slow kisses up it’s centre before meeting your lips. “maybe i’ll just let you sort yourself out. who knows who else you’ve been a little slut for.”

a whine escapes your lips as he pulls away from your lips, missing his warmth. the name going straight to your cunt and making you needier.

“jus’ you. i promise. couldn’t help myself.” you mumble, looking down at your hands in your lap.

“don’t act all innocent with me angel, i know what you want, and you know what you were doing. want you to tell me what you want from me.” he crouches down in front of you, hands on your thighs and inching up slowly.

“need you to touch me. want you so bad.” you squeak out, shuffling about on the bed.

“oh yeah? want me to make you cum, sweet girl?” he peels back your skirt, your panties on full display as you lean on your elbows to look at him curse under his breath. he grips your knees and spreads your legs further apart, eyeing the wet patch between your legs.

“god you’re so wet, i can see it from here. got you all worked up hm?” he presses kisses on your inner thighs, watching you squirm until he roughly grabs your hips. his stubble scratching your thigh slightly as he kisses higher.

you hum in agreement, focused on the growing tension about to snap. that was until you felt his fingers pull at the sides of your underwear, pulling them down to show off your glistening folds.

he growls slightly, groaning at the sight before pulling your panties off and basically diving into your pussy. licking strips from your hole to your clit, humming and rolling his eyes back at the taste.

he was eating you out like a starved man, sucking at your clit and poking his tongue into your hole while you were a moaning mess above him. writhing and wriggling your hips, grinding into his face while you were overcome with intense pleasure. he brought his hand up, inserting a finger inside of you before lifting his head up and smiling.

“tastes like heaven, sweetheart. so so sweet f’me fuck.” he reaches that spongey part inside of you, your moans growing whinier as you reach your climax. he roughly covers your mouth with his hand, muffling the sounds you’re making before watching his finger plunge in and out of you.

he starts sucking at your clit again, mewling at the taste of you before adding a second finger to thrust into you. your eyes were rolling back into your head as he coached you to your climax. you failed to notice the poor boy practically grinding the floor, trying to find any way to relieve himself while relishing in your pleasure.

“you gonna cum baby? yeah? go on, cum all over my tongue darlin’”. he poked his tongue back into your hole before making his way back to your clit. he was sloppy, the sounds of him and his tongue filling the room and probably the hall next to it. you didn’t have time to think about it though before white fuzzies took over your vision, and the coil inside you snapped.

eddie slowed his pace down, but lapped at the hot white liquid spurting from your hole. he was basically kitten licking it by the time you’d snapped out of your intense climax. you’d slept with guys before, with women before, but none had ever made you feel like this.

so you grabbed him by his hair into a kiss, teeth clashing and tongues dancing. you hum sweetly at the taste of yourself being transferred from him to you, trailing your hands down his chest and towards his bulge. he looked big, but nothing could’ve prepared you what he was actually hiding.

he sat down, spreading his legs as you knelt down in front of him, holding his cock in your hand and staring at it. he hissed as the cold air hit his sensitive tip, sticky with precum. he chuckled darkly at your expression, grabbing his dick and slapping it against your cheek lightly a few times.

“you okay there, doll? you can take me.” he smirks, smug from your expression. you lean in, licking a stripe from his base to the tip and taking extra time to lick the prominent vein pulsing on the side. he groaned in pleasure, jutting his hips up into the air before you grasp him with both hands and lick his tip a few times.

you watch his face the whole time, scrunched up in pleasure and making him look so much more attractive. swirling your tongue around his tip and licking the precum away, you start to take him down your throat until your nose hits the base.

“fuuu-uck. where’d you learn that you little slut? used to suckin’ big dick are ya?” his groans are sent straight to your core, making you wetter than before.

you pull away with a ‘pop’, and look into his eyes. “you’re so big, eds. biggest i’ve ever seen.” you’re about to go down again until he grabs your face harshly, puckering your lips while he stands and looks down at you.

“don’t believe that. you gonna let me fuck your face now, sweetheart. quit teasin’.” he holds his cock, guiding his tip to your parted lips and thrusting his hips in slowly until you’re gagging. strings of curses tumble out of his mouth at the sensation as he pulls out and fucks your face harshly. his balls slapping on your chin while you moan and clench your pussy as he uses you as a fucktoy.

“such a good girl, letting me ruin your pretty mouth like this. fuck- perfect angel.” he’s holding your chin as tears flood down your cheeks from gagging so much. he’s thrusting so intense that your jaw is starting to ache.

“shit shit shit - gonna cum sweet girl. swallow it all f’me, be a good girl.” and so you did. hot ropes of his salty release coat your tongue and the back of your throat. you stick your tongue out at him, so he can see the dollops of him cum he left there before you swallow it all happily and sit up to kiss him again. watching you, eddie could feel himself getting hard again.

his tongue swipes over yours, both of your recent releases mixing together in your mouths. salty residues left at the corners of your mouths before you pull apart.

“bed. now.” he pants at you, walking you towards it until your back reaches it and you fall back. you spread your legs again, giving him a look at your pussy dripping with arousal again. he watched as a bead of the liquid travels down your thighs, before he laps it up and rubs his tip through your folds.

the sensation of his tip hitting your clit almost had you screaming, but you bit down on his shoulder instead as he sharply sucked air through his teeth.

“eddie- please.” you pant, the words coming out strained from desperation. hearing you beg for it did something to him, blood pumping to his tip more than before.

he plunged into you slowly, the burn of the stretch adding to your pleasure as eddie groaned. he went all the way in and stopped, kissing your collarbone before looking at you.

“feels so fuckin’ good. so tight for me.”

“move. please move- fuck.” he pulls his hips sharply, before slamming them back into pace and setting a rough pace to fuck into you at. he was so big, it felt like he was ruining your pussy and your organs. his tip prodding against your cervix, creating a bulge in your stomach that he pressed on.

“look at that. too big for your pussy to fit. fuck” the rough pace he set had led your moans into an incoherent string of words. you couldn’t process what was happening, just the intense pressure building in your stomach causing you to clench around him.

“y’fucked all dumb up there, angel? fuck- clenchin’ around me like that m’ not gonna last.” his hips stutter before falling back into their pace.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck” high pitched screams sound out of you, not caring who can hear anymore because it feels so good.

“my dumb girl, pussy’s made f’me isn’t she. god you’re perfect.” you can’t help but drool at his words, being fucked so dumb that you can’t remember words.

you clench harder around him, indicating you’re close as your moans mush together. his hips falter again, becoming overwhelmed by the wetness squeezing his cock. he reaches his hand down to your clit, and spits on your pussy before he spreads it around and rubs it in circles around the nub.

the sensation is so overwhelming, your orgasm crashes over you with no warning. you hadn’t even got a chance to warn eddie about needing to pee - which didn’t matter anyway as you squirted all over his dick. the lewd sounds still filling up the room as eddie doesn’t slow down.

“squirting all over me, fuckin’ slut. you’re gonna stay here till i cum, use you as my own little toy.” you were falling into being overstimulated, the climax still having it’s effects on you. but you notice him slowing his pace down.

“shit- gonna cum. can i cum in you, doll? feels so good i don’t wanna pull out. please?” he flops his head to your shoulder.

“please cum in me, eds. want you to cum so deep in me.” before you knew it, his warmth was spitting out of his sensitive dick, painting your inner walls white and mixing with your own release as he pulls out of you slowly.

the white liquid of both of your releases drips out of your hole, before eddie quickly puts your panties back on you to prevent it from dripping out, giving the puffy mound a few playful taps and causing you to hiss from overstimulation.

“want you to keep it all in there for me, like the good girl you are.” he kisses you sweetly before flipping your skirt back down and making sure you’re okay.

———

“that was the best sex i’ve ever had.” the man says next to you, arm around your shoulder as you trace the tattoos on his chest.

“me too. felt so good eds.” you smirk at the new nickname. you sit up and grab a pen from the table next to you. finding a space between the collage covering his body, you write your number down.

“i wanna see you again. call me?” you rest your chin on his chest.

“course i will sweetness.” he kisses your head before standing up and sitting back down in his rolling chair.

“y’wanna finish that tattoo now?”

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theflowerrooms · 1 year ago

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to request • Eddie’s masterlist • main masterlist

Lingering Discomfort

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary; usually you and your boyfriend Eddie are all over eachother, but after an awful experience with a stranger, you can’t handle anyone’s hands on you

wordcount: 1.7k

Warnings: descriptions of sexual assault and lingering affects of it, light angst, Eddie’s so sweet and lovely

another request from the lovely @tracymbcm, thank you so much for requesting <3

It was yesterday, when you were at the bookstore, standing in between the fantasy and horror isles at the bookstore when someone tapped on your back, between your shoulder blades. It was a man, significantly older than you but not elderly by any means, he was incredibly average looking man, apart from the scary grin he wore on his face, and his beady eyes that stared at your chest rather than your face.

"Don't see many pretty young girls listening to Metallica." He smirked at the band tee you wore and your heart raced with anxiety. You wondered if he could tell the shirt was too big for you, if he could tell it was a man's shirt- Eddie's. "What's your favourite song by them honey?" He asked and the petname made you feel sick.

"Um-" "Um!" He cut you off mocking you and you pouted, backing up, wiping your sweaty palms on the sides of your skirt.

"I don't- I don't listen to them. My boyfriend, he loves 'em." You didn't talk more than that and you almost flinched at the very unsubtle way the corner of his lip rose in irritation.

"That right? How old is he?" He asked, a step closer to you as you took one back. Your eyes watered as you realized any further back and you'd just be trapped against the bookcase.

"He's twenty." You hoped he didn't see your lip tremble, you hoped he couldn't hear your heart beating so fast.

"Twenty? See young guys- little boys like that don't know how to treat their girls." That's all that was said before the situation escalated and ended with you running out of the store crying. He didn't do anything more than grab your ass, but it was revolting.

You took deep breaths before you pulled out of the parking lot. Your first instinct was to drive to Eddie's house, cry into his chest and complain about the creep in the bookstore. You could see him in your head, hugging you, rocking you as he kissed the crown of your head. You didn't understand why the thought of that made you uncomfortable, you just didn't want to be touched again. What you needed was a shower, and then bed.

✽-

The next morning, Eddie picked you up as usual, he did every morning. Usually you loved it, getting to spend time with him before you started your day, and it got him to school on time, not wanting to make you late. Today you'd rather walk, every car ride Eddie would stroke your thigh, kiss you at every stop sign, squeeze in a quick make out session before you left the car.

You avoided all that. Grabbing his freehand and holding it so it wouldn't venture to your legs, fake yawning and leaning your head against the window with your eyes closed, too tired to kiss. You left his van before he got the chance to try and make out with you.

He did call you pretty, and cute in the span of three minutes, which brought a smile to your face, especially since you didn't feel pretty or cute, wearing a loose fitting t-shirt and grey sweatpants instead of the skirt and tighter top you normally would've worn, too uncomfortable to wear anything very revealing.

He walked with you into the school, slightly behind you like he usually did and you distanced yourself just slightly, so his hand wouldn't find the small of your back.

You chewed your lip as you turned around to face him. "'M gonna go talk to Robin before class." You smile softly, albeit anxiously at him, but he didn't read into it too much thankfully.

"Alright baby, tell her I said hey." He grinned and you nodded, guilty you hadn't been giving him the same attention and intimacy you normally would. He leaned forward to kiss you and you turned your head, he was fine with just kissing your cheek. "You okay baby?" He asked, glassy brown eyes searching your own. You told him you were, and you both knew you were lying, but he didn't press it.

You swallowed thickly as you turned from him, wiping the invisible kiss off of your face when you knew he couldn't see you, walking on shaky legs until you found Robin.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She asked, and you sighed, shrugging even though you knew. Her eyes burned into yours until you leaned against the lockers with a pout. Finally you told her what happened.

She scoffed. "Men. So many of them are fucking creeps, I thank the gods every day for the fact that I swing the other way." She rolled her eyes with a grimace on her face that matched the one that was starting to grow on your own. "Was Eddie with you?" She asked and you shook your head. "That's- well maybe that's a good thing. He would've totally lost his shit." She laughed.

That last sentence stuck with you. Why would Eddie be mad? It wasn't your fault. But then maybe it was, you could've moved away sooner, told him to stop, you could have just not interacted with him in the first place and moved on. And now Eddie would be mad at you.

✽-

It stuck in your head until lunch. And when it was lunch, you felt anxious again. You felt so guilty, especially seeing Eddie smile so big the second he saw you. When you reached the hellfire table, you pulled your usual seat a few inches away from him, so you wouldn't be pressed flush against him like usual.

You sat and he wrapped his arm around you like usual, so you leaned forward letting his arm rest on the back of your chair, that was fine.

Things were okay for the next ten minutes. You got less anxious, joining in on the conversation, things seemed normal again, despite the lack of Eddie's tongue down your throat which was common for every other lunch period.

Suddenly that normalcy ended. "You're too far baby." Eddie tsked, easily picking you up and putting you in his lap, arm over your lap and gripping the underside of your thigh, the same place that old man's hand was less than a day ago.

You leaped up without thinking, heart racing, all the eyes of hellfire on you. "Stop! Stop- just don't- don't want you touching me." Your voice shook, and tears welled in your eyes when Eddie's smile fell completely. You mistook the concern on his face for anger and you bolted, you didn't go far, only to the library, you'd favourite place in Hawkin's High, save for Eddie's arms.

You sat in the back on a soft chair, you weren't there long before Eddie found you. He kneeled in front of you, making himself look small as he peered up at your teary eyes. He placed his hand on the arm of the chair, not on your skin.

"I talked to Robin baby, do y'wanna talk about what's bothering you?" His eyes didn't look angry like you thought they would, only sweet and inviting. His lips turned to match the pout on your face, he always did it and it made you giggle, you felt your lips twitch with the beginning of a smile. It was hard to stay upset around Eddie.

"Are you mad?" You asked and his eyes immediately widened, curls swaying with his head as he shook it.

"Of course not sweet girl, I could never be mad at you baby. Especially not for something that wasn't your fault." He assured you. Immediately the guilt in your chest floated away. "Do you wanna talk to me about it baby?" He tilted his head and you nodded.

"Yesterday, at the bookstore there was this older guy." Your lip trembled. "He was askin' about my shirt 'n he called me pretty. Then he started asking about you when I told him I have a boyfriend. He said twenty year olds dunno how to please girls, and he- and he touched me." You brought your knees to your chest as the tears on your waterline started to drip over your cheeks.

Eddie's jaw tensed. "Where did he touch you?" It was tearing him apart to not be able to hold you right now, wipe away your tears. But he understood there was a new boundary as a result of what happened, and he'd respect that, keep his hands to himself until he knew it was okay to touch you again.

"He rubbed my leg- 'n he grabbed my butt." You whispered, he didn't look angry, upset yes, worried, absolutely, but he wasn't mad. "I told Robin about it 'n she said if you were there you would've lost your shit." You kept your voice down and he shook his head quickly again.

"No- no baby, well, yes. But I wouldn't have been mad at you at all, just at that guy. It's not okay for him to go around touching girls, 'specially my girl. But that's not your fault baby, you didn't do anything wrong. I promise you did good, and I'm not mad at you at all." He promised and you sniffled.

There was a beat of silence before you threw yourself from the chair onto your knees, burying your face in his chest. His arms immediately squeezed you close to him, brushing your tears away gently.

"How about we skip the rest of our classes today, head to that bookstore, 'n I'll buy you whatever book you didn't get to buy yesterday. And if that guy's there, you point him out and he and I can have a little talk, I'll make sure he doesn't touch you, or anyone else like that again, hm?" His voice was soft, calm as he pet your hair and you nodded.

"I love you." "I love you"

You didn't see that guy again when you went to the bookstore later on, Eddie's arm protectively hooked around you through each isle. He got you your book, and you even got to read the first couple of chapters to him in his arms that night.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #petalwrites #slight angst #hurt/comfort #sa warning #fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

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eh-what-blog1 · 1 year ago

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Negan x reader smut

♡Hey everyone! Here's a smut based on a request I got recently...I hope I did it justice!! If you have any more requests, please leave 'em with me <3

Warnings: vibrator play, Negan being Negan, dirty talk, afab reader, overstimulation, penetration mentioned, tears of pleasure referenced, dominant Negan, also his softer side comes out a little!

♡ You decide to tell Negan some valuable information you found out earlier in the day. He appreciates it and wants to reward you for telling him.

You felt nervous as you stand in the ominous looking meeting room. Negan sits confidently at the foot of the large table, his feet stretched out onto the glass as he crosses his legs. You can't help but eye up Lucille, leaning against the dreary grey walls, covered in splotches of dark blood. You shyly look down at your shaky hands, examining your fingers for the sake of keeping distacted from the long silence hanging between you both.

You don't know how the unpredictable man is going to respond to what you just told him. You witnessed Simon, his right hand man, going about the Sanctuary like he owned the place earlier today. He confidently strutted around, talking the big talk on how he wanted to kill Negan and take over as leader. Your heart dropped after hearing him discuss his plan with random Saviors.

You don't know why you felt the need to tell Negan this, but it must have been due to your feelings towards him. You always had an attraction to him... you liked how confident he was, how he presented himself... even his dirty sense of humour amused you. Not to mention how you swooned every time his dimples became promimant as he spoke.

Suddenly, he speaks up, snapping you away from your thoughts.

"So...you wanna know what I think?" *he sighs as his deep voice rumbles through you, making you shiver in your place. You look up to see him staring intensely at you, leaning back in his chair casually while you shyly play around with your fingers. You meet his gaze hopefully, eyes twinkling up at him.

Instead of directly telling you, he laughs to himself as he gets up from his chair. The sound runs through your body, making you shiver as he confidently walks towards you, invading your space. You can't help but look up at him as he smiles widely at you, those dimples showing like you always loved. A blush spreads across your face instantly, feeling shy under his strict gaze.

"I think..." He says slowly, letting his words draw out. "that you've been very good..coming to me and telling me all this"

As he speaks, he let's his rough hand come up to your face, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Very, very good..." He continues, his voice somehow a lot deeper and sultry than it was before. You gulp softly as you continue to look up into his dark hazel eyes. There is a clear tension building up and you feel yourself becoming weaker as he towers over you dominantly.

"Are you a good girl? Is that why you came and told me all this?"

Your eyes flutter closed for a moment as his words send an ache straight down to your already needy core. His presence alone can have you dripping wet with need and you feel your underwear hugging tightly against your wet little pussy as he speaks to you, craving his large, rough hands all over your body. You can't fathom a response and he smirks knowing how he's making you feel.

"I reward good girls...do you know that?" He presses on, not breaking eye contact for a single second as he searches your eyes for a response. You hum out in response, a simple 'mmm' leaving your mouth as a little whine rather than a sound of acknowledgement. This makes him smirk again as he goes to whisper in your ear.

"How about you sit your pretty little ass on that table and give me a second" he utters confidently, his voice a little rough. You recognise that it is not a question, it is a demand. You blush wildly and nod in compliance, quickly making your way over to the table, your skirt riding up your legs slightly. You enjoy the sensation of the cold glass pressing against the heat of your soft thighs as you watch the man open up one of the large cabinets, pulling something out with a low laugh of amusement. Nervously, you look down into your lap as he walks back over to you, stopping right in front of where you're sitting.

He gazes at you with fervour, an inappropriate expression painted on his face as he observes you intensely. He suddenly shakes an object in front of your eyes, forcing you to look up at it with a shy look on your face. It's a pink, medium-sized object, a rod shape. It also has a few small buttons etched onto the side of it. Immediately, you know what it is. Despite your inexperience in the area, you know straight away that he's holding a vibrator right in front of your eyes. The sight makes you gulp as you connect your thoughts, realising what he meant by "reward"

"Hm? Would you like that..? Want me to press this between your legs..?"

His voice sends chills down your spine as you squeeze your thighs together needily, noticeably wanting to give into his offer. He was serious about this...

"M-mmm...Negan..." You say his name softly, your voice coming out a little more needy than you would have liked. That's the confirmation he needs from you as you whimper out your reply, seeing him smirk as he bites his lip a small bit at the sight of you sitting there so vulnerable on his table.

Suddenly, you feel his strong hands grazing along your thighs, making you shiver at the feeling. His thumb brushes against the soft skin as he pushes your legs apart, making room for him to step between them. You're in a very desperate state as he kneads your sensitive flesh, making your face heat up even more than before. Your mind starts racing as you feel him hiking your skirt up, revealing your soaked panties.

"Goddamn! Look at that...you're fucking soaked..."

His crude words make you whimper softly as he plays with the hem of your panties, your eyes fully taken over by the desire you feel for him.

N-Negan...I...

You try to speak as he languidly pulls your panties down, yet they protest a bit as they hug around your sweet little clit and soft, puffy lips. A string of slick connects your panties to your needy core as he slips them down your ankles.

Without saying anything, he looks down at you, meeting your gaze for a moment. His dark eyes are full of desire and so are yours. He shakes his head at you a little bit, showing his satisfaction with how needy you are, almost in disbelief regardless of how confident he is in his ability to woo women. This is another level.

He uncharacteristically stays quiet as he grabs the pink vibrator, examining it for a moment before turning it on. A loud buzz fills the room, and your eyes flutter closed as you anticipate what's about to happen. It makes you feel so weak and dizzy as the man looks down on you, sliding his hand up your stomach and pressing you down so you're flat on the table. He pushes your legs out some more, leaving your sensitive core fully displayed for him. You see his expression shift again as his eyes fill with even more desire.

"Mmm...you're not gonna know what's hit you in a second" he says smugly as he presses the object against your inner thigh, slowly letting it drift up towards where you need it most.

"N-Negan..please..I.." Your voice is weak and soft as he looks down, observing your reactions as the vibrator buzzes against you. He teases you for a little longer before pulling it away. You close your eyes for a moment, thinking he's stopping to tease you more. That was until you suddenly felt the object pressing snug against your clit. Your eyes widen immediately as it buzzes loudly against your bundle of nerves, causing you to moan needily.

O-oh God...

You whimper and whine as he presses it against you, holding you down with his hand as you start to squirm a little bit

"Look at you...I couldn't just let you leave here with nothing after telling me such important information, right?" His voice sends shivers down your spine, so deep and rough.

You whimper in response as he holds the vibrator flush against your clit, sometimes letting it drift away from that spot for a second just to tease you.

"God girl I want to bury my dick inside of you so bad...get you all messy"

As soon as the dirty words leave his mouth, your eyes widen a little bit. "P-please...please can you..?" You try your best not to sound shaky, but between every breath you whimper needily at the man.

"What? This isn't good enough for you?" He raises his eyebrow at you, smiling widely as he's clearly amused by his own comment. He wiggles the vibrator against your pussy teasingly.

Suddenly, he presses one of the buttons, and the vibrations get a lot stronger. You whimper out again, not able to stop yourself from reaching your arm out, gripping the end of the table with your shaky fingers. It hasn't taken long for you to get close to your climax as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You screw your eyes shut, and your breath becomes hot and heavy. He notices how you shake and whimper as you approach your orgasm.

"That's it, darlin'. Cum for me...that's it" his deep voice coaxes your orgasm as his words tip you over the edge. You moan his name desperately as you feel your legs shaking slightly from the strong vibrations to your core. As you relax through your high, enjoying the feeling running through your body, you start to feel another feeling taking you over. You notice that Negan still hasn't removed the vibrator, keeping it nestled onto your clit.

"N-Negan.." You say his name softly, a touch of curiosity in your tone as well as a little overwhelmed strain. He laughs a little to himself again, clearly amused as you squirm about. The feeling on your clit makes you wriggle in his grasp as he holds you there. Despite the overwhelming feeling, you enjoy the overstimulation to your sensitive core. You cry out desperately.

"Shhh...shh...I know doll, I know..." He reassures you a little as he continues, pressing the pink vibrator flush against you as your eyes water from the feeling.

"Hmm? That's good, isn't it..? You like that feeling?" His voice is rough as he speaks, so deep and sultry. It drives you wild as he doesn't give up with his attack on your sensitive little pussy. You can only nod your head messily as you feel a wave of pleasure shoot through you again, your second orgasm is already soon approaching. Your eyes continue to water as the overstimulation gets to you.

"I know...I know...it feels so good, hm? You like what I'm doing to you, darlin'?" You nod your head desperately again as he gazes down at you intensely. He seems to be a little softer now as he coaxes yet another orgasm from you.

"Such a good girl...cum for me again, let it all out..."

His words tip you over the edge for a second time as you screw your eyes closed, your orgasm hitting you even harder than the first. The tears prick in your eyes with pleasure as you shake again under his grasp, loving how good it feels. You moan his name over and over again, letting our desperate whimpers and whines as you let yourself go for him.

A few seconds pass as you lie there, shaking and messy as you coat part of the table in your slick.

"Mmmm, you took that so well.." Negan says roughly as he pushes the vibrator away from you, switching it off and placing it on the table. It was like he was experimenting a bit with you, seeing how much pleasure you could take.

You lie against the cold table, your breath hot and fast as your heart rate slowly starts to come down. You can't help but reach out to him, overstepping a bit of a boundary, but you want to feel him close especially after that. Your face is bright red and your painted with a satisfied and joyful expression, in disbelief of what just happened.

He doesn't give you any weird look as you reach out, sitting yourself upright. Instead, he reaches out to your waist, wrapping his strong arms around you as he lifts you up from the table, settling you down onto his lap as he sits down. You don't expect it at all, but you don't question him as you relax in his arms. You let out a soft sigh.

"T-thank you...that was..amazing" you utter gently, your voice barely above a whisper as exhaustion takes over.

"Well, I had to reward you, didn't I?" His voice is low and he seems uncharacteristically a little softer as he speaks to you. You enjoy it as you relax even more, closing your eyes.

Maybe this could be the start of something interesting...

#negan x reader #negan smith smut #negan smith #negan smut #negan twd smut #negan x reader smut #negan x you #twd smut #smut #fandomsmut

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

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Sharks

Meadema x Child!Reader

Summary: Viv comes to your house and you tell her about sharks

Viv's been at your house more often now.

It's a little strange.

Viv never used to come to the house by herself.

Always with your aunties and the other Arsenal girls.

Never alone.

But now, she's always at the house by herself. She comes home with Mummy from training and they sometimes have sleepovers in Mummy's Big Bed. Sometimes, she cooks you breakfast in the morning or helps pick you up from nursery.

It's weird.

The only person that's been around this much is Daan but she's gone now. It's not that Viv's taking her place but it's just a little weird to have someone around all the time again.

"Mummy!" You call," Need help, please!"

You're trying to get your favourite crayon set out but it's trapped by all the clutter in your toy box. You tug again but can't quite seem to get it.

"Mummy!"

"Hey, liefje." It's Viv instead of Mummy and you stop to look at her.

"Where's Mummy?"

"Beth's on a phone call. Can I help?"

You think for a moment before nodding. "My crayons," You say," Can't-Can't get them."

Viv peers into your toy box, seeing the way that your crayon pack is at the very bottom. Beth warned her about this, about the fact that you had a habit of drawing on everything you could (even the walls) so your crayons had been placed at the very bottom, buried under everything so you couldn't get at them as easily.

"Here, liefje," She says, pulling them out. She hands them to you.

"Thank you, Viv," You reply. You dump them onto the coffee table with your colouring books.

You've got more than one so you look back at Viv, who doesn't quite seem to know what to do with herself now that she's left completely alone with you with no Beth to act as a buffer.

You scamper back to her side, sliding your hand against hers. "Colour with me?" You don't wait for an answer, pulling her with you to sit cross-legged at the coffee table.

You shove a colouring book at her before flicking through your other one to decide which one you want to do. It takes a little while to choose, looking between the shark and the jellyfish.

You end up choosing the shark.

"D'you know that sharks have a lot of teeth?" You ask Viv as you colour," They lose 'em a lot so they need to have a lot more to make up for it."

"Wow," Viv says as she colours too, although she's mostly just watching you," You're very smart. Do you know any more shark facts?"

"Uh-huh. Baby sharks are born with all their teeth," You change your grey crayon to silver," Mummy says it's good I wasn't born with teeth because I used to try to bite things."

"Really?" Viv sounds amused.

"Yeah but I don't anymore."

You grab green to colour in some kelp. "Baby sharks are called pups," You continue," And baby sharks don't stay with their mothers. That's sad. I want to stay with Mummy forever."

"You're very smart," Viv says again.

"Sharks are my favourite animals!" You reply before shooting to your feet. You rummage through your toy chest before returning with arms full of stuffed sharks.

You lay them all out on the table, pushing off all your crayons. You sit extremely close to Viv, closer to her than ever before.

"This is a hammerhead," You say, holding one of your toys," 'Cause their head looks like a hammer. And this is tiger shark 'cause it's got tiger stripes. And this is a whale shark. It's like a whale but it's really a shark."

"Wow."

Viv's pretty happy to sit with you and listen to your explanation of sharks. In all honesty, it's pretty impressive how much you know and you're clearly so happy to tell her so she's content to just listen.

Which is how Beth finds you both later, when she's finished her phone call.

You're practically in Viv's lap, excitedly explaining the new shark added to your collection.

"Hey, y/n," Beth says and you immediately stop talking.

"Mummy!"

You hurry to her side and hug her tight.

"Hey," She says again, a hand running over your head," Did you tell Viv all about your toys?"

"My sharks!" You nod and let Mummy pick you up, balancing you on her hip.

"Your sharks," She laughs, bouncing you slightly," Come on, Viv. Didn't you say that you knew some nice restaurant near here? Let's order dinner."

●～●～●～●～

Slowly but surely, Viv's things begin to appear in the house.

It starts small, some of her clothes and a phone charger. Next it's some of her books and then her trophies and medals. It happens so gradually that you don't even realise it happens until suddenly Viv's taking care of you on her own and never going back to her own house.

"Mummy," You say one evening as you lay on Mummy's chest while Viv does the dishes," Does Viv have a house?"

You bounce a bit from the force of Mummy's laughs. "What kind of question is that?"

You look at her. "Viv's always at our house. Does that mean she's not got a house?"

"Where have you gotten that idea?"

"You said that Daan didn't have a house anymore when she came to live with us."

Mummy sits up and you know this is going to be one of her serious talks.

"Well...Do you remember when I told you about dating?"

"When two people want to be romantic so they hang out and do stuff together."

"Yeah, that's right. Well, after people date for a bit, they move in together."

You think about that for a moment, trying to translate that into something you understand. Sharks don't do that.

"Er...Why?"

"So they can spend more time together."

Sharks don't move in with each other. Sharks don't date. It must be a human thing.

Mummy takes your silence as an invitation to continue. "And Mummy and Viv are dating so she's moving in with us."

You think about that too, finally putting together that Mummy and Daan must have dated as well but don't anymore because Mummy and Viv date now.

"Viv...lives with us?"

"She does," Mummy says," Is that okay?"

"Viv gave me a new shark," You say to Mummy instead," It's a basking shark. It's cool. Viv's cool. She can stay."

Mummy releases a long breath and affectionately rubs your cheek. "I'm glad. I like Viv a lot."

"I'm glad too," Viv says as she approaches," Otherwise I'd have to give this to some other little girl."

You don't know where she's gotten this new shark but you're very happy.

Mummy shrieks though. "Viv! That's disgusting!"

"Goblin shark!" You look between Mummy and Viv. "They're my favourite!"

It's horrifically ugly and you love it so much.

"Thank you, Viv!" You say, giving her a hug as you take it, hurrying over to what Mummy calls your 'shark shrine' to introduce your new friend to all of your old ones.

"It's so ugly, Viv," Beth complains as they both watch you play," It's going to give me nightmares."

Viv chuckles. "Just wait until you google what the real thing looks like."

#woso x reader #meadema x reader #beth mead x reader #beth mead #vivianne miedema x reader #vivianne miedema #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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amyelevenn · 4 months ago

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hiii pookie 🎀

can i request a lando fic where he's streaming and f!reader (who is chronically online) uses like tiktok references and talks to the chat while lando just sits there clueless?? and its like super funny and wholesome and the reader teases him abt it??

THANK YOU AND ITS TOTS FINE IF YOU DON'T‼️

have an amazing day!

chat, am I cooked?

PAIRING; Lando Norris x f!reader

SUMMARY; lando's chronically online girlfriend teases him on stream for not knowing any tiktok brain rot.

WARNINGS; none, just fluff

A/N; aaaa what I cute request!! I really hope I did your idea justice! pls pls pls let me know thoughts and feelings

1.1k words masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

You can’t help but grimace as Lando manages to somehow get killed. Again. For the 11th time. Not that you were counting, or anything like that.

You didn’t even know what game he was playing, or who he was playing with. All you really knew was that dying was bad. But that is kind of a universal thing so, really, you didn’t know much of what was going on.

His pretty face is contorted in an expression that you can tell is anger, but he is attempting to conceal it for yours and chat’s sake.

“Well,” you sigh, trying to lighten the mood, “that was not a sigma male moment.”

The slow turn of his head to your direction, slack jaw and wide eyes makes you quietly giggle to yourself. You try and stay stone faced, maintain the façade of being a loving girlfriend who takes her boyfriend’s games (and deaths) as serious as he does.

“…What did you just say?”

“Umm… I’m just saying you lost a few aura points for that one, Lan.”

He looked like a deer in headlights, and you love every moment of it.

“Chat, what the hell is she on about?” turning back to face his set up, he sees multiple comments of laughter, crying emojis and people trolling him, and yet none of them can offer him an explanation.

“Chat do not tell him what is up. That would not be very sigma of you,” you smile, struggling to contain your enjoyment of his befuddlement. “You are very cute when you don’t know what I’m saying.”

He pouts, pulling your chair closer to him in an act of defiance. You could tell he just wanted to know what you were saying, but you were keen on not giving in. “Sometimes it is as if you are speaking a different language,” he huffs, and you know he said it to get laughs out of his viewers, but the proximity of him whispering it into your ear sent chills down your spine.

The move had multiple viewers commenting things along the lines of:

“DAMNNNN LANDO GOT RIZZ”, “oh em gee he is the rizzler!!” and “rip carlos you would’ve loved to see Lando’s rizz.”

“Ha! I know that one! I’ve got lots of rizz, chat, how do you think I bagged this baddie?” he grins, slinging his arm around the back of your chair. It was comfortable, familiar for the two of you.

“He is lying chat he has no skibidi rizz don’t listen to his lies!!!”

He gasps, pretending to be offended by your insinuation. Lando breaks into laughter, and the melody was music to your ears. With how much fun the pair of you and the viewers were having, you both had forgotten that you had even ordered take-away for dinner. It was only until you heard numerous knocks on the front door of your shared apartment that you were broken out of your trance, lost in the comedy of the stream.

As you move to get up and answer the door, Lando stops you. His hand lands softly on your shoulder, gently pushing you back into your seat.

“You stay right there baby, I’ll get the food for us,” he smiles. The moment was sweet, endearing. If anything, it made you fall in love with him anymore. He places a soft kiss to the top of your head, warming your heart and your cheeks.

He hopped off his chair, and you saw he was wearing those grey trackies of his that made his butt look oh-so-good.

“Ooohhhh chaaat,” you started, making Lando turn around just as his made it to the bedroom door. “Chat I GYATT something in my eye!”

You double over in laughter as his sends you a puzzled look, muttering some nonsense under his breath as he leaves. You watch as the viewers spam their two cents, laughing alongside you at his innocence to internet brain rot.

He isn’t gone for long, and when he comes back, he has dinner from your favourite Italian place in hand. You gasp, ecstatic to devour the deliciousness of Papa John’s homemade pasta.

“Thank you, Italy, for inventing Papa John’s! if only Italy were real,” you fake frown, making sure Lando saw your sad expression.

“Italy?? Italy is real?? I don’t get it,” he huffs, placing the takeout bag on the desk.

You go to reach for your dinner, but your boyfriend is quick to whip it out of your reach.

“Explain what the hell you are saying to me and how Italy isn’t real, then you get dinner.”

You faux gasp, acting all shocked that he would have the audacity to withhold food from you.

“Well… i’m doing it, are you?”

“That doesn’t even make sense??”

“Chat am I cooked?” you giggle, no longer able to hide your amusement of his obliviousness.

“SHE IS CONSTANTLY SAYING THIS!! when it’s just her and I alone, she always asks chat if she is cooked,” Lando bursts, pleading and pleading with the viewers the help him understand the voodoo that you constantly say. His ignorance to your silly sayings always made your day, adding to the vibrance of your relationship as you would poke fun at him for not understanding you.

He finally gives in and hands you your dinner, unable to refuse your warm smile and glimmering eyes. God, the things he would do to make sure you would never lose your spark.

“Well, we are going to eat in peace now, so goodnight chat!” Lando announces, moving to shut off the stream. “Say goodbye for forever to my beautiful girlfriend chat, she is banned from here on out!”

“You know what that means chat, we are gonna go fu-”

“BYEEEE!” he yells over the top of you, ending the stream before you could finish your sentence. It closes, and he turns to you with a sly grin.

“You little muppet!” it only takes a second for you to recognise the mischievous look breaking out on his face; it was a look you knew all too well.

“Noooooo Lan no don’t do it!” you squeal, already sprinting out the door before he could catch you.

“Get back here you rascal!”

Two steps out the door, and he had already caught you. He lifts you off the ground and spins you around, all while you are squirming in his grasp. You are both laughing your heads off, and he finally puts you back on your feet.

You look up at him, but you can’t get any words in before he presses a chaste kiss on your lips. You melt into him, unable to resist his temptations. The warmth of his body radiates onto you, pulling him closer.

“I love you,” he mumbles between quick pecks.

You had never felt more complete within your life than you did in that moment.

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

as always, feedback is appreciated!

#x reader #reader insert #formula 1 #formula one #fluff #lando x reader #lando norris #ln4 #ln4 fluff #ln4 x reader #ames writes ! ☽

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tj-dragonblade · 5 months ago

Text

[FIC] Chaos and Calm

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: G Word Count: 1551 Tags: fluff, domesticity, single dads, pre-relationship, outings in the park, feeding the ducks, rain

Notes: For Day 1 of Dreamling Week 2024 as organized by @mr-sadman, for the prompt 'hunt'. Also dedicated to the wonderful @chaosheadspace, whose single-dads AU Castle in the Sand rotates in the back of my head quite often - I meant to have this coincide with your birthday but didn't quite make it, alas.

Summary: Searching for rain boots and meeting friends in the park. No real plot, just meandering domestic parenting vibes.

On AO3

"Robyn! You 'bout ready, kiddo?"

Hob winces at the sound of something heavy thudding on the floor above, and then his son appears at the top of the stairs. "I can't find my boots!"

Hob suppresses the urge to sigh. "Do you remember where you had them last?"

Robyn's brow furrows. "Maybe? They might be in the cupboard? But I think I might have used 'em as astronaut boots and forgot to put 'em back."

"Did you check by the washing machine?"

"Not yet."

"Okay. You keep looking in your room; I'll check down here and then come help you look if I don't find them."

"'Kay." Robyn scrambles back up from where he'd started down the stairs and dashes back to his room, and Hob heads to check the coat cupboard in the front hallway.

They're meant to be meeting Dream and Orpheus at the park in fifteen minutes. The day has turned out to be dreary and grey, light rain off and on keeping it misty and damp and a raincoat plus wellies are definitely called for.

If only he or his son could be relied upon to consistently put things back in their expected places. Ellie had always scolded them about it, gently, and for all the years since she's been gone Hob has kept trying to do better, but it's not always top of his mind and they're both surviving okay, despite the current inconvenience.

He checks the bottom of the coat cupboard; no boots.

He lets the sigh out this time, since Robyn's not there to see the frustration. He checks the utility room next, where last year's too-small snow boots are still sitting next to this year's because Hob hasn't gotten round to dropping them off at the charity shop yet. This year's snow boots will have to do if they can't find the wellies, but he's not giving up yet.

He's not going to tear the house apart looking, either, though; he's eager to get going. Letting Robyn spend time with his best friend is important, but also. Hob really looks forward to seeing Dream, for—well. For lots of reasons, that he's comfortably aware of but cautious about acting on because the kids would be caught in the middle if it didn't work out and that's the last thing he wants. Right now he just wants to let himself enjoy the possibilities. Hanging out, conversations while the kids play, watching Dream's pretty face go soft and expressive as they talk.

So. Best check all the likely spots in this comfortably-cluttered chaos he lives in, then, so they can find the boots and get going. It would certainly be easier if his home was less messy, but he's a single dad with a very active kid, he teaches secondary school, and taking the time to make his home look like a magazine spread is just not on his agenda. And sure sometimes it bites him in the arse, like now, but most times the chaos is of a manageable level and more importantly, it works for them.

Just. Not today, apparently.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, fires off a quick text to Dream.

May be a few minutes late We've a crisis of missing wellies over here Keep you posted

Dream's response comes through almost instantly.

I wish you luck in your hunt, then. We will wait.

Hob smiles, tucks the phone back in his pocket and heads up the stairs to join the search.

Robyn's room is a little bit of a disaster zone, as he's been throwing things around in his haste, and Hob kneels to crawl around the floor and help him look. He'll help him straighten up later, too, but for now they're boot-hunting.

Robyn is a little worried, as it turns out. "What if Orpheus and his dad leave before we get there? What if they think we're not coming because I can't find my stupid boots?"

Hob laughs, a small laugh full of kindness. "They wouldn't," he assures, pulling his kid into a one-armed hug as they sit on the floor. "And besides—I texted Orpheus's dad so they know we're running late." He drops a kiss in Robyn's hair. "Now let's find those blasted wellies so we can get going, yeah?"

The boots are not under the bed, or the desk in the corner; they're not in the toy chest, nor the basket for Robyn's dirty laundry, nor under the laundry that hasn't quite made it into the basket. Hob helps that last category get to where it was meant to be and sits back with a sigh, making a mental note—and hopefully he'll remember later—to be sure to run a load of Robyn's clothes.

"Alright, kiddo, is there anywhere you haven't looked yet?"

Robyn ponders for a moment, face scrunched in thought, and then lights up. "Oh!" He scrambles off the floor and over to the wardrobe, yanks it open. Hob would have thought that would be the first place to check, so he hadn't looked himself but obviously he should have, because Robyn dives into it with a little yell of victory and emerges with a boot held high in either hand and triumph radiating from his grin.

~ They're only a little bit late to the park; Robyn and Orpheus spot each other at the same instant and yell in excited unison, charging across the wet grass and crashing into a hug that also involves a lot of jumping up and down. Hob grins at their enthusiasm, eyes searching beyond them to find Dream looking for him as well; the smile that blooms on Dream's face, visible even at this distance, makes Hob's heart do a pleasant little flop in his chest.

"Your hunt was successful, I see," Dream says, when they are close enough for speaking; they are trailing after the boys, who are cavorting in the general direction of the duck pond, splashing in collected puddles on the path. Dream's got his umbrella up, even though it's not raining right this moment, which somehow just enhances his general goth vibe.

Hob stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, time to do a major cleaning. His room's a bit of a mess but we finally found his wellies in the wardrobe. Which honestly would have been the first place I checked if I'd realized he hadn't. Kid brains work on different logic, I suppose."

"True." Dream shifts a little, casts a glance sideways at Hob. "Robyn is fortunate to have a father so skilled at finding lost items."

"Got a lot of experience misplacing my own crap," Hob offers, laughing to cover the flustery warmth seeping into his chest at Dream's simple compliment. "And he found the boots himself, just needed some help thinking it through."

"As I said. He is fortunate to have your guidance," Dream reiterates, and Hob is saved from having to respond when Robyn comes running back to where the two of them have stopped at the path's edge. Orpheus is over by the pond, bending down to peer between the rails of the short wooden fence that surrounds it as several ducks swim toward him.

"Dad! Did you bring the peas? The ducks're hungry!" There's eager excitement in Robyn's voice and Hob smiles.

"'Course I did, kiddo, here." He rummages in the bag at his hip, slung comfortably across his chest, and hands over the snack-size freezer bag of peas; Robyn thanks him and dashes back over to Orpheus. Whether or not the ducks are 'hungry' is arguable, but Hob won't deny his kid the human joy of personifying the world around him nor of feeding the ducks, which is generally their purpose in coming to this park. He glances sideways at Dream—who is Hob's own private secondary reason for any of the activities they do together with their kids—and finds him watching the boys with the softest little smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

He's so beautiful.

It starts raining, then, just a light misty sprinkle. The boys put up the hoods on their raincoats and carry on tossing peas to the eager birds who've gathered for the feast; Hob is about to dig his own umbrella out of his bag but Dream steps closer and shifts his own broad umbrella over Hob as well. His arm presses up against Hob's, from shoulder to elbow, and Hob swallows the urge to lift his arm and put it around Dream's shoulders, leans solidly into the touch instead. It's nice.

It's so, so nice, and Hob revels in the imagined warmth he can feel seeping into the contact despite the layers between them, the way that seconds turn to minutes and neither of them moves away, how they both watch their boys in comfortable silence. Hob's thoughts and emotions often feel chaotic and jumbled up in the same way his house manages to be a mild-but-functional disaster zone but this—sharing an everyday domestic moment with Dream, the casual unremarked closeness between them—it quiets something in his head, makes anything and everything seem gloriously possible.

This, this is a feeling worth finding, a feeling he did not even realize he was searching for.

He is still entirely grateful to have found it.

= Started: 6/2/24 Drafted: 6/3/24 Posted: 6/3/24

#TJs Fics #Sandman #Dreamling #Dreamling Week 2024

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years ago

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.2K] 18+

“Shh, baby, s’alright,” Steve cooed, kissing sweetly at your cheek as he cradled your face in his hands. “Oh my girl, that feels good, huh? Yeah?”

You nodded, eyes squeezing closed at the intensity of it. You were lying on the boys bed, Steve’s shirt pulled up your ribs to show off your tits, toes curled and pressed into the mattress as you continued to push the vibrator inside of you. It was a sweetly cruel kind of torture, the boy standing at the edge of the mattress, a pair of sweats slung low on his hips as he hovered over you, watching with hooded eyes.

Every now and then, Steve bent at the knees, pressed upside down kisses to your heated skin, over your jaw and neck as his hands cupped and petted at you, licking into your parted lips as you whined high for him. He never took his eyes off of you, hands roaming over your chest to flick over your hard nipples, a palm flat and rough down your sternum and over the soft of your tummy. He’d nudge at your thighs, give you a little, sharp tap and tell you in a lovely, rough rasp:

“Keep ‘em spread for me, baby. That’s a good girl.”

The toy was purchased a few days before, on a trip that was meant for new underwear. Steve had stopped a whole shelf of them along the back wall, bright pink boxes hidden amongst silk and lace, and it really hadn’t taken a lot to convince you. The soft silicone was a light lilac colour, nowhere near as long or as thick as your boyfriend but it was still enough to make you feel full and the little ears that vibrated over your clit made your back arch real prettily.

Steve groaned when you squirmed, the length of the toy buried deep inside of you, slick and wet gathering on your bare thighs and you tried your best to fight against the boy’s hold, trying hard to squeeze your thighs together at the feel of the vibrations. Your eyes turned glassy as Steve reached between your legs, tutted condescendingly when he felt how soaked you were and he used two fingers in the shape of a ‘v’ to pull at your folds. You cried out at the new contact, the little ears buzzing against your skin.

“Steve!” You squealed, cheeks flushed, jaw slack as you threw your head back, your face buried in the boy’s side as he leaned over you. “Fu-uck, shit, it’s too much, please--”

“Oh, baby,” Steve tsked, voice all sweet, sticky and fond for you. “Baby, look at you, so fuckin’ pretty, huh? My pretty, pretty girl, doin’ so good for me.”

You whined, grabbed behind your head at Steve’s thighs, gripping the grey cotton of his sweats to try and ground yourself. You could see the hard outline of his cock above you, twitching and jumping underneath the material when you spread your legs wider for him. He took the opportunity to press down on the button at the base of the toy, the small motor kicking in more as the vibrations kicked up a notch.

“Fuck!”

Steve laughed, huffed out a breath and kissed his way back up your body, letting you feel his grin as he grazed his teeth over his favourite parts of you - your hips, the dip of your waist, the soft swell of your stomach, the underside of your breast.

“You gonna come?” Steve whispered, his nose pressed to your cheek as you panted out for him, nuzzling into your neck. “You’re close aren’t you, baby? I can tell, I know, I know, you wanna come so bad, don’t you?”

Your eyes turned glassy as he spoke, glazing over as his words took you to a whole other space. You felt dreamy, your body on fire, everywhere tingling as you pressed the toy deeper inside of you, hips canting as you tried to find the spot that only Steve’s cock could.

You groaned out, a little frustrated, blinking prettily as wet gathered on your lash line. You sniffed, gasped out at the twitch of the ears over your clit and when your eyes fluttered shut, tears slipped from your eyes and rolled down one cheek, gathering at the hair by your ear.

“Oh honey,” Steve cooed, “don’t cry, you’re okay, aren’t you?” Steve had seen this before, the way you got lost in your own pleasure, in the way he touched you, how overwhelmed you could get as you searched for your high, letting him touch you until your lip quivered and your cheeks turned wet. “My sweet thing, just so fuckin’ desperate, aren’t you? Greedy, little thing.”

“Steve, please,” you cried, sniffling as you rocked your hips against your own hand, pulling at the boy’s sweats until he bent down beside you, giving you the attention you wanted. “Want you.”

“Yeah?” Steve murmured softly, bringing one hand to brush against your face, cradling your jaw and tilting your head back over the edge of the bed so you were looking at him upside down. “You want me? Shit, babe, aren’t you just so cute?”

Normally, that’s all it took for Steve to stop teasing, to crawl onto the bed with you and groan something filthy as he slipped the toy out of you and replaced it with his own, much bigger cock. But he kissed you instead, moaning when you opened your mouth for him, tongues pushing over the other, messy and desperate until Steve took control and made you slow down.

He pulled back a little, pressed one peck, two pecks against your pouting lips and he smiled down at you.

“Want me to keep your mouth busy? Yeah? This pretty, little mouth?” Steve asked you, nose sliding along the bridge of your own. He nuzzled at you, looked down the line of your body to see you bring one knee up and plant your foot on the bed, legs falling apart to fuck the buzzing toy in and out of yourself. “Make you feel nice n’ full, yeah, baby?”

Steve slid two fingers over your lips, pulled at your bottom lip until it fell back into place with a soft ‘pop’. He smiled at you, cooed all pretty when you whined for him, blinking wetly as the vibrator nudged up inside you, catching the spot you’d been looking for.

“Open your mouth for me, sweetheart, there you go,” Steve hummed happily and your body buzzed with praise. “So good, such a good fuckin’ girl.”

You let your lips part, mouth open and you groaned around Steve’s fingers, eyes fluttering when they dragged heavily across the flat of your tongue and then the boy was standing again, pulling at his cottons with one hand as she stared down at you with pupils blown wide.

“Shit baby, fuck, you want somethin’ bigger?”

You nodded, whimpered softly when Steve took his fingers from your mouth and dragged his hard, heavy cock out of his sweatpants. He fisted himself, jaw slack as he stood over you, staring at the way you licked your lips at the sight of his dick, gaze dragging down to your cunt, watching how you started fucking yourself a little faster.

“Ah, ah,” he scolded gently, “slow down, baby.”

You swore, breath stuttering and catching in your chest ‘cause you were so close to coming and watching Steve fuck into his own hand was more than enough to send you toppling over the edge. Your body was on fire, thighs quivering, bottom lip wobbling, but you did as you were told, slowing down your movements.

“Stevie,” you gasped, squirming on his sheets, making them wrinkle under your bare body, “m’so close, please.”

Steve tugged at himself, lips parting, hair falling into his eyes and he groaned, hips canting and chasing his own touch ‘cause hearing you say that never got old. He took his time to look at you, all spread out on his own bed, head over the edge with your lips parted, mouth waiting to be fucked.

“I know, I know,” he soothed, his free hand cupping your chin, thumb rubbing softly over your throat. “You wanna come so bad, I know. But you’re gonna be a good girl for me, right, baby?” Steve pouted when you nodded, all sweet and mean for you, fingers and thumb squeezing softly at your cheeks, your neck. “Open up, pretty girl.”

You took his cock eagerly, his head slipping past your lips as you did as you were told, tongue swirling over the tip of him, making him swear above you. You reached up with one hand, trying to hold the base of him, thick and warm in your grip, but Steve tutted and pulled your hand away, making you whine.

“S’okay, baby, I’ve got you, yeah?” Steve encouraged your hand back to your cunt, fingers slipping messily over the wet slick there, spreading your folds with sticky fingers so the ears of the toy could flick back and forth over your clit easily. “Let me help you, that’s a good girl, Christ, yeah, just like that.”He held you face with one hand, cradling your cheek, thumb soothing over the hollow of it as you kept your mouth open for him, lips slick and glossy, eyes wide and wet as you stared up at him. The toy buzzed and Steve let out pretty little gasps and grunts, trying not to rock his hips too much, doing his best not to hurt you but he was close to being wrecked as he watched his cock slide in and out of your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, can feel your throat,” he babbled, “you look so good baby, so pretty with my cock in your mouth, fucking yourself nice and slow for me, yeah?”

Your hand quickened, unable to help yourself as Steve talked dirty above you, hands petting sweetly at your face, your hair, your tits as he said the prettiest, dirtiest things to you. The toy buzzed louder when you pushed it deeper, hips flying up off the bed as you pushed it in and up, the silicone flicking over your clit harder than before. You moaned out, eyes glassy, throat tightening around Steve’s cock as it slipped a little too far, more than you could handle.

You gagged and spluttered a little, whining when Steve pulled back, groaning and cooing down at you, his thumb swiping over the corner of your mouth to clean up your mess.

“Oh fuck, shitshitshit,” the boy choked out, fisting his cock over your face, looking positively wrecked for you. “Easy, sweetheart, don’t want you hurtin’ yourself, huh? Here baby, just take the tip, yeah? S’just too much for you, isn’t it? I know, I know.”

Your body seized up, the hook in you tummy tightening and pulling hot as he spoke, feeding his cock back to you as he held it in his big hand, letting you lick and suck at the tip as you fucked the toy into yourself faster and harder. You were crying, whining, overwhelmed and feeling so fucking good you couldn’t stand it.

“That’s a girl,” Steve grunted, softly swiping away the tears that were gathering under your lashes. “So fucking good for me, yeah, just take the tip for me, baby, so good.”

You kept sucking, lips pouted and wet around Steve’s cock, tongue lazing across the head as you whined, lashes fluttering as your eyes fell shut. It was easy to come like this, you realised all too quickly, your cunt fluttering around the vibrating toy, the tip of it nudging up against somewhere sweet inside of you, your clit tingling with all the attention. And the thickness of Steve was something completely tantalising, the thickness of his cock heavy and grounding on your tongue. He was still touching you, the hand that wasn’t wrapped around himself sweeping over different parts of you as he moaned out praises and dirty compliments.

He knew you were coming before you did, watching the way your body tensed up, how you were too busy licking over the hard length of his cock to realise what was about to hit you. And then you were slipping into the pleasure, letting him fall from your mouth as your head fell back and a filthy, pretty whine fell from your lips.

Your thighs snapped together, your hand and the toy trapped between as you rocked into the vibrations, riding out your orgasm with eyes shut, cheeks flushed and toes curled. You moaned out the boy's name, over and over and over until he was groaning above you, head thrown back and jaw slack as he asked you if you could come on you.

You’d barely gasped out a ‘yes’ before he was painting your stomach, his hand a blur as he fucked himself into his fist, his cock wet and slick from your mouth and Steve was groaning something sinful as he came, eyes a dark caramel as he watched himself coat your tits.

“Christ,” Steve gasped out, flopping down beside you, making the bed bounce and you roll into his side. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader smut #UDWS10K

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punkshort · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter warnings: sexual tension, language, f masturbation, angst

Chapter Four

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

June 2003

The audit had been underway for roughly a week. You had volunteered, along with Colleen and Debbie, to work some overtime. The three of you and Heather blocked off a conference room on your floor for the next two weeks after hours, diligently working until about 8pm almost every night.

The audit was pretty standard. The auditors supplied a huge list of reports and documentation they wanted to review, and you spent most of your evenings working away on your assigned items. The evenings went by surprisingly fast, and it turned out to be kind of fun. You ordered in food to eat together while working. You got to know a lot more about your co-workers, finding you had much more in common than you thought. One evening, you and Debbie discovered she had grown up in a town only 20 minutes away from your hometown. Needless to say, you spent the rest of the night talking about favorite restaurants and mutual acquaintances.

One day, you were walking from the conference room, your grey ruffled skirt swishing around your knees, heading back towards your department. You were looking down at the paper in your hands, reminding yourself what files you needed to look for in the cabinet. Given the time of day, you were surprised when you ran headfirst into a hard wall of muscle as you rounded a corner, dropping the paper in your hand. It was almost 7pm, you hadn’t expected anyone else to be working.

Two large hands reached out and grabbed your shoulders to keep you steady. His scent hit you first, a comforting aroma of leather and citrus, and you knew it was Joel before you even looked up.

When your eyes met his, his face showed as much surprise as your own.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t expect anyone to be here this late,” you apologized, leaning forward to pick up the paper you dropped, but he held out a hand to stop you.

“My fault. Here, let me get that,” he said, bending down. “I wasn’t payin’ attention. What are you still doin’ here?”

He picked the sheet of paper off the ground, his face inches away from your bare calves, causing your throat to tighten. You shifted your weight, trying to subtly create more distance between you two. Joel turned his face towards you at the movement, eyes briefly flashing up and down your legs as he slowly straightened himself upright, towering over you. He held out the sheet of paper, which you took quickly, trying to hide the slight tremor in your hand.

You cleared your throat and glanced down at the paper. His eye contact was intense, it made you nervous and excited at the same time, and you found you fared better when you took a few moments to collect yourself by looking elsewhere.

“I volunteered to help with the audit," you explained. "A few of us have been working most evenings, I was just heading back to look up some files,” your eyes flicked over to the locked door, then settled back on him. His face was softer than usual, plush lips parted, and hands shoved in his pants pockets as he listened.

“I’ll come with you and carry 'em back, that looks like a long list.”

Before you could respond, he turned around and was punching his security code into the keypad. He opened the door and looked back at you.

“Are you coming?” he asked. Your cheeks flared at the direction your mind took with that question, scooting into the room as the door fell shut behind you. You walked by the printer and grabbed an empty cardboard box. Heading in the direction of your cube, you placed the box on the floor near your desk and began getting to work rifling through the file cabinet across the aisle.

Joel slowly trailed in after you, glancing around the room curiously, noting that you two were completely alone.

“I don’t make my way down here as much as I should.” Joel said, leaning against the wall of your cubical and crossing his arms. “Looks like you’ve settled in,” he added, eyeing up a few picture frames placed on your desk.

You looked over your shoulder, taking a moment to appreciate how strange it was to have him standing at your desk.

"Yep," you agreed, turning your attention back to the files, trying to work fast.

Joel leaned in a little closer to examine your photos, seemingly unaware of how distracted he was making you. He smugly noticed you didn't have any pictures of the Ken doll. He straightened back up, glancing down at your half-filled banker's box, then his eyes traveled over to the empty cubicle on the other side of the room.

"Did your boyfriend land on his feet?" he asked before he could stop himself. His eyes remained glued to the empty desk, unable to look you in the eye.

"I'm not sure, we broke up," you replied, distracted. Then the impact of his words hit you. "Wait, how did you know we were together?" You stopped sifting through files and turned towards him, waiting for his answer.

Joel shrugged and turned back around to face you, but only once he was able to wipe the stupid grin off his face at your admission.

"Wasn't hard to figure out, the way he'd look at you and couldn't keep his hands off you." Joel stated matter of factly. His heart was beating faster at the direction the conversation was headed, and he couldn't keep his mouth from turning up into a half smirk at how flustered he seemed to make you.

You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear nervously, shifting your eyes between him and the file cabinet, before giving the file cabinet your full attention again.

He noticed when Justin put his hand on your leg during that meeting.

"I'm sorry if that was inappropriate. He was only trying to calm me down." You kept your eyes down on the sheet of paper in front of you, looking at what was next on the list. He was your boss, and no matter what attraction you may have for him, you had to remind yourself this was a professional workplace.

Joel's face fell, and he immediately felt guilty. He hadn't meant to imply you had done anything wrong.

Why was he so bad at this?

"That's not what I meant, I..." he trailed off as your fingers stilled on the paper before you, intently listening but still not looking at him. "I just meant... shit, I don't know, I was just explainin’ how I knew, is all." He ran his fingers through his hair, getting frustrated with himself. His gaze fell on your pictures again.

"These your folks?" he asked you, pointing to one of the frames.

You turned to look at the pictures. You nodded and smiled warmly. His pulse began to return to normal: you were back on track.

"Yeah, those were taken at my graduation, so a bit old now. I should update those." You looked at them once more fondly, before turning back to the file cabinet.

"I gotta do that too," Joel murmured. "Change my pictures, that is. Tommy pointed it out the other day."

You smiled sweetly in his direction, making his heart flutter, and announced you were done. He bent forward to pick up the box of files. This time you were ready, and you made sure you had more room between you.

You held the door open for him as you both exited the room, back into the hallway. You passed Heather's closed office door, hearing her muffled voice as she talked on the phone.

Luckily, the conference room wasn't far. You opened the door, confused to just find Debbie still working. She did a double take when she saw Joel behind you holding a box. Debbie straightened up in her chair, gave a stiff greeting, and hunched back over her computer, trying to look busy.

"Where's Colleen?" you asked, sitting down in front of your laptop. Joel placed the box next to you on a chair, and you lifted your head up to smile your thanks to Joel, which he returned.

"Tommy asked for her help with something right after you left." She was responding to your question, but she was staring at Joel, stunned to see him smiling.

Suddenly, the conference room phone rang out shrilly. Debbie snatched it up. It was Heather, asking Debbie to come to her office to help her with something on her computer. Being a younger employee in the department meant you were the first line of defense against technical issues.

Debbie looked relieved as she got up to exit, but not before giving one more curious glance in Joel's direction as she left, shutting the door.

It was just the two of you again. He wandered over to the white board in the room and read over the list of tasks under each person's name. You wondered why he was still here, but you didn't want to draw attention to it. You stared down blankly at your computer, trying to think of something to say.

Fortunately, you didn't have to.

"Your friend seems jumpy," he stated, still turned towards the white board.

You grinned at his back. Surely, he was joking. Feeling a little more comfortable around him, you said sarcastically, "Yeah, I can't imagine why."

At that, Joel turned to look at you, genuine confusion painted across his face. You looked at him incredulously. "You're kidding, right?"

Joel shook his head and you let out a small huff of laughter.

"You do realize everyone is afraid of you?" you boldly asked.

The corners of Joel's mouth turned up slightly, and he cast his eyes down quickly, quirking an eyebrow, before meeting your gaze again.

"Not you," he said, ticking his jaw to the side.

You gave a breathy laugh at his response.

"Are you sure about that?" you teased.

You watched as his gaze slowly turned from playful to heated, sending your pulse racing and making your grin vanish. His smile faded away as he walked around the table towards you. Like an animal hunting its prey.

You parted your lips slightly to accommodate your need for more air, your chest rising faster. The tremor returned to your hands that were delicately placed over your keyboard. You kept your head facing forward towards your monitor, but your eyes were glued to him approaching you from the side.

Joel placed one large hand flat on the table next to your computer, inches from your own. He leaned down, hovering over you, as his other hand gripped the back of your chair. Your heart was beating so fast, you were beginning to feel lightheaded. Your quickened breath was making your lips dry, so you shot your tongue out to dampen them, keeping your head positioned straight in front of you.

Joel's gaze caught your tongue shooting out of your mouth, and his breath hitched. He closed his eyes for a few moments and inhaled the floral scent drifting up from your hair. He could feel himself getting hard at the tension filling the room.

"You don't gotta be scared of me, sweetheart. I don't bite," he said to you, his voice husky, barely above a whisper. "Well, that’s a lie. Sometimes I bite," he couldn't resist adding with a smirk.

You couldn't stop the gasp that left your mouth at his words. Your eyes fluttered shut as you tried to stabilize your breathing, and you squeezed your thighs together under the table. The way his voice sounded and the innuendo in his words was causing your panties to grow damp. You opened your eyes and turned your face up towards him, finally seeing the heat behind his stare and the tension in his jaw. The hand that rested on the back of your chair was gripped so tight, his knuckles were turning white. Like he was fighting to hold himself back.

You opened your mouth to say something, but words failed you. When you went to shut your mouth, you gently sunk your teeth into your lower lip. His eyes flicked towards the movement, his own lips parting, and released a shaky breath.

The door banged open suddenly, revealing Tommy with his arm loosely wrapped around Colleen’s waist, giggling as they entered the room. Joel jumped away from you, shoving his hands back in his pockets as you clamped your mouth shut ruefully.

They seemed just as surprised to see you both, but slower to untangle themselves.

“Hey there, brother, didn’t realize you were still here, too,” Tommy gave Joel a mischievous grin, looking back and forth between the two of you. He glanced at Colleen, who looked disheveled and was smiling playfully at him. “Up to no good?”

Joel huffed and headed towards the door, your heart sinking in your chest, disappointed the moment was over.

"I was down here lookin’ for Heather, she needed my input on somethin’, what’s your excuse?” he shot back.

Tommy grinned and looked back towards Colleen, who had sat down in front of her computer, still smiling at him like a fool.

"Uh, yeah, same, came down to see what the status was on the thing…” his thoughts drifted away as Colleen giggled at his response.

“You mean the audit?” said Joel dryly, trying to draw Tommy’s attention away from your friend.

“Yep! That’s it!” Tommy said, snapping his fingers and heading towards the door to join his brother. “We'll see you ladies later, be good now.” He winked in Colleen’s direction, which triggered another giggle from her.

Joel rolled his eyes and grabbed Tommy by the bicep, hauling him out of the room without giving you another glance.

The moment the door shut, you and Colleen whipped around to face each other, speaking at the same time.

"Joel?!"

"You've been dating Tommy?!"

Colleen grinned, with a dreamy look in her eye, answering first.

"Not exactly. We just hook up now and then."

You gave her a suspicious look.

"I'm not stupid," she continued. "I know he's done this with more than a few other girls who work here. It's just for fun, nothing serious."

You hummed thoughtfully, still in shock. You had no idea. Colleen must keep secrets better than you gave her credit for.

"Wait, what about you two? What was that all about?" Colleen asked. "Now it's starting to all make sense, no wonder he isn't tough on you! And - oh my god! Justin?! Did Joel force your boyfriend to quit so he could have you to himself?"

Your jaw dropped at her suggestion.

"No! Absolutely not! Nothing is going on between us," you could feel your cheeks heating up. It was technically true, nothing had happened. You just flirted a little bit, that didn't count. Right?

"I don't know, you both looked really cozy when we interrupted you just now." Colleen teased. "I've never seen him look that human before, I thought he just lived and breathed work." She laughed as she turned her attention back to her laptop, a silly grin still plastered on her face from her run-in with Tommy.

After speaking with Heather, Joel kept quiet until they were safely on the elevator heading back up to the 10th floor.

"What did I ask ya to do, Tommy? Stop screwin' all our employees, we are gonna get slapped with a lawsuit one day!" Joel wasn't sure what made him more furious - the fact Tommy ignored his request, or the fact that his moment with you was interrupted. The hypocrisy wasn't lost on him, but he knew your flirtatious relationship would only go that far. He was too old for you, and, considering your ex-boyfriend, he clearly was not your type. It was just harmless and playful, he told himself. Nothing more.

"Oh, spare me, Joel! I saw you two when we came in that room! I'm tired of your bullshit!" Tommy fired back, fists squeezed at his side.

Joel spun around, facing Tommy head on with his jaw clenched and pointing a finger in his brother's face.

"I ain't gonna say it again, there's nothin' goin' on. I was just helpin' her carry a box after I nearly ran her over. I'm not stupid enough to think she's interested in me, she's just bein' nice 'cause I'm her boss."

His words hung in the air for a moment, and Tommy relaxed after he processed what Joel had said. He leaned back against the elevator wall, crossed his arms, and nodded.

"Oh, I get it now."

Joel shook his head and turned back to face the doors, refusing to acknowledge Tommy's statement.

"Joel, I think you're wrong. If you want, I can ask Colleen-"

"No," Joel cut him off, his voice softer now, feeling guilty about his outburst. "No, just... just let it go," he begged.

The elevator opened and Joel walked briskly in the direction of his office. Tommy faltered for a moment, then decided to follow him. He cleared his throat to make his presence known, but Joel didn't seem to care. He picked up his leather jacket and cell phone, and shut down his computer, getting ready to leave for the day and still avoiding Tommy's gaze.

"Listen, brother, I'm not sure how that Amy got your head all twisted and made you think you don't deserve to be happy, but you do. Now I know what happened was fucked up, and I don't blame ya for being hung up on it, but it's been years." Tommy said calmly, trying his best to get through to him.

Joel stilled, staring down blankly at the cell phone in his hand. He averted his gaze out the window, trying to think of what to say.

"You gotta understand, what happened makes me want to avoid relationships in the office. I caught them in the copy room, for Christsake," he croaked out. Still avoiding Tommy's eyes, Joel brushed past him and back towards the elevator.

Tommy jogged back out to the lobby to keep up with his brother.

"Oh, shit, Joel, I'm sorry. That didn't even occur to me, no wonder you are so gung-ho about me leavin' the girls alone." They stood together, waiting for the elevator doors to reopen.

"Well, I don't wanna get hit with a lawsuit, either, but..." Joel trailed off as he entered the elevator again and pushed the button for the parking garage.

Tommy slapped his hand against the side of the elevator to keep the doors from closing, and finally Joel looked up to look his brother in the eye.

"I'll leave 'em alone, I promise. I thought you were just givin' me a hard time, I didn't think it through," Tommy relented. "You gonna be alright?"

Joel scoffed lightly, "Yeah, 'course. See ya tomorrow."

Tommy removed his hand and the elevator closed.

July 2003

The audit had been wrapped up for a week now, the rest of the time very uneventful compared to the night you discovered Colleen’s secret. The same night you and Joel had that charged moment in the conference room. Whenever your mind wasn’t occupied with something else, you found that your thoughts always drifted back to that night. You replayed it over in your head as much as you could remember, desperately trying to recall the exact tone of his voice and the feel of the heat rolling off his body as he hovered over you.

On more than one occasion, you found yourself thinking about that night before you fell asleep: your hand sliding down the front of your sleep shorts, a finger dipping into your entrance to collect the wetness pooled there as you thought about Joel caging you into your seat. You had been interrupted that night, but you liked to imagine what would have happened.

You pictured Joel grabbing you by your arms and pushing you up against the conference room wall, his hands roaming up and down your sides while your hands raked through his hair. He would run one of his hands around to cup your ass, while the other went up to squeeze your breast through your blouse. Joel’s mouth would latch onto your neck as you moaned his name, grinding your hips up to his, desperate for contact. In your fantasy, Joel would feverishly rip your panties off and sink into you slowly, stretching you out and groaning in your ear about how wet you were for him.

You have replayed this fantasy over a lot in the past couple weeks, as you would hastily circle your swollen clit while another finger probed inside you, moaning out into the darkness of your one-bedroom apartment, grateful you finally lived by yourself and no one could hear.

At first, seeing Joel in the office felt awkward, embarrassed by your actions in the privacy of your own home. It became such a regular occurrence, however, that the awkwardness eventually faded away.

In fact, during your department’s monthly meetings with him, you felt more at ease. It was a stark contrast to the way you felt in your first meeting. You stayed quiet, not wanting to draw attention again, especially because Colleen thought something was happening between you and Joel. The only sensational thing was if one of you caught the other looking in their direction, which was typically met with a secret smile or a playful glance.

Today was the July monthly meeting. You sat, bored, listening to Heather discuss in great detail the end result of the audit, only looking up when she gave kudos to you, Colleen, and Debbie for helping out after hours. You smiled at her in return, feeling Joel’s gaze on you. You had a feeling he was recounting that one evening you ran into each other. You resisted the urge to look in his direction, afraid you wouldn't be able to hide your reaction.

When Heather was done, she quickly added that she had found a suitable replacement for Justin – a guy named Kyle, who had come from a competitor and had 5 years of payroll experience. He was scheduled to start Monday, which the team universally looked grateful to hear. Picking up the extra workload the past couple months was getting old.

Joel stopped Heather as she began gathering her things at the end of the meeting.

"Remember to bring me last month’s numbers before 3:30 today, I'm offsite after that.”

Heather froze for a half a second, then said enthusiastically, “Absolutely, will do!”

Everyone filed out and waited for the elevator. You chanced a look over your shoulder when you heard Joel and Tommy leave the room. Joel was wearing black dress pants and a dark blue button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, which you greedily noticed had become the standard lately. His eyes immediately caught yours and gave you a quick wink as he headed back to his office. You could feel the tips of your ears getting hot and you had a stupid grin on your face. Luckily, no one seemed to notice the exchange as you climbed into the elevator and headed back down to the 6th floor.

Everyone was settling back into their cubicles when the keypad began pinging and the door swung open, revealing a worried looking Heather.

“I hate to ask, but can anyone please take these reports up to Joel’s office? I completely forgot I had promised him, and I just don’t have the time, I have a meeting with HR in 10 minutes to go over onboarding for Kyle, and it won’t be over by 3:30.”

The room remained completely silent, nobody wanting to offer up their head on the proverbial chopping block.

"I’ll do it,” you quietly piped up, much to everyone’s, including Heather’s, relief.

She handed you the file and briefed you on what information was inside in case Joel asked questions, and then quickly exited, on her way to HR.

Colleen grinned at you and whispered, “Why did I guess you would volunteer?”

You hushed her and once again confirmed you were not sleeping with the head of the company. She rolled her eyes.

"Don’t worry, I won’t say anything! I know that can be damaging, that’s why I didn’t tell you about you-know-who.” She winked at you and turned back to her computer, but not before whispering, “You better hurry, your boyfriend is waiting.”

For the second time, you found yourself face to face with Ruby Potter. Still ancient, and still had lipstick smeared on her front teeth. She seemed to recognize you, because this time she didn’t ask who you were here to see, she just said, “Go on in, dear, he’s free.”

You walked to his open office door and gently rapped your knuckles on the wood. He didn’t look up from his cell phone but motioned you to come and sit down. This time, you left the door open.

You sat down in the same chair as before and waited for him to acknowledge you. You took the time to glance over your shoulder at the cluster of picture frames he said he needed to update. You couldn’t really make out any of the faces, but you thought you saw Tommy in a few of them.

Joel set his cell phone down on his desk and finally looked up. The frown that seemed permanently etched on his face instantly eased when he saw it was you. You turned your head back and smiled warmly at him, which made him smile in return. You held out the folder in your hand.

"Heather was busy this afternoon and asked me to bring these up to you.”

He looked down at the folder, taking it and placing it carefully on the desk before him.

"Thank you, sweetheart... I'm glad she chose you," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

You could tell he felt uncomfortable after that, because his eyes were shifting all over the surface of his desk, looking anywhere but at you.

"I actually volunteered," you told him. He looked up at you then, not sure what to say. "You scare the rest of the department, remember?" you teased him.

You could tell his thoughts definitely traveled back to that evening in the conference room now by the way his gaze darkened, still fixed on you.

Nervous about where the conversation was going, you tried to change the mood. "Did you have any questions about the numbers, Mr. Milller?"

You did your best to sound professional, and you thought you had succeeded, but his gaze only became more heated.

"Please," he croaked out, "please call me Joel."

He sounded like he could barely say the words, like he was drowning and it was all he could get out. His face looked borderline pained as he pinned you with his stare.

"Ok... Joel," you whispered heavily. At the sound of his name, his eyes fluttered shut for a few moments, as if to savor it.

You pressed your knees together again, knowing for sure now that the attraction was not just one sided. And you think he knew it, too.

Joel opened his eyes, taking you in from across the desk. You sat there, so pretty, and looking at him expectantly with those beautiful eyes. You had asked him a question, but neither of you were worried about the answer. He could see it now, the way you looked at him and said his name. He knew he had to do this right.

He cleared his throat and opened the folder, his gaze dropping to the reports in front of him. He pretended to read them but in reality, he was watching you in his peripheral. You shifted in your seat as you waited for him to acknowledge you again. He had to make sure you didn't leave here thinking the attraction wasn't mutual. He couldn't act on it yet, he needed time to think, when his head was clear.

Joel looked up at you after he pretended to review the reports. "No questions, sweetheart. Thank you... for volunteerin'. Made my day."

You felt the blush spreading across your cheeks. You stood and thanked him, heading towards the door.

When you reached the exit, you turned around and said, "Have a nice weekend... Joel." And disappeared back into the lobby.

Joel sat there, staring at the empty doorframe, replaying the way you said his name over and over in his head.

"Fuck," he muttered. He got up and headed to his bathroom.

Chapter Five

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff

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ohsohoney · 4 months ago

Text

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Four

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Four is finally here, took ages because I got carried away and so it's almost 9k long but I hope you enjoy it!! Thanks for all the love on this series, means a whole lot x

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2 || Em’s daughters are renamed here because it felt weird not to and also have different ages– doesn’t affect the story much but just a warning! Rosie's nickname is also Z:)

Masterlist

“Z, you comin’ or not?” Em shouted up the staircase, practically swinging against it whilst his hand gripped the large ball perched on the very end of the bannister. Somehow it managed to hold most of his weight even as he leaned further back, once more breaking his whole ‘no yelling’ rule. “We gotta move, baby!”

I was pretty content to just let this scene play out, especially after having witnessed the pair's antics firsthand whilst we’d been helping Rosie out with her homework– or rather, whilst I’d been helping, Marshall had been quite happy to just nod along with whatever I’d been saying. As though he understood what the fuck had been going on.

Even so, they’d made it fun, the way they playfully bickered back and forth and how Em seemed hellbent on correcting the girl’s spelling and punctuation even though the majority of it had just been numbers.

It wasn’t long after we’d wrapped up the worksheet that Marshall brought up the topic of food again and in truth, I’d been all for it, suddenly starved at the very mention. So Rosie had run off to stash her school stuff away and use the loo, whilst I’d wandered back out into the hallway where I’d left my shoes, settling down on the wooden bench there to lace them back up.

Em had followed soon after, seemingly ready and geering to go. He actually let out a hearty sigh when his daughter called back to him that she would just be another minute and I watched on as he glanced up towards the high ceilings in impatience.

I snorted softly to myself at the reaction and let my shoulders relax a little into the wall behind me, my eyes sliding over his slumped form as we waited. “You that anxious to get going?”

Marshall worked his jaw at the question, then pushed away from the stairs to move a little closer. He shook his head at me with a curled lip and then shoved his hands into his pockets, “Just always the same with her, you know? A minute means ten.”

A fond smile crept over my expression, “Ah, the consequences of being a girl dad, Mathers. You now run on female time.”

The brim of his hat barely covered the roll of his eyes when he scoffed, “Don’t I know it.”

“You love it though.” I shot back, so certain of that particular fact.

I had only been in the presence of Em and his daughter for barely even half a day and already I could see that. He hummed in retort too, neither confirming nor denying the assumption.

“Don’t be like that,” I smirked, amused by the tough guy act he liked to front, “She’s probably just grabbing a jumper or something. Looks cold out.”

As I said the words, I let my gaze slip out of one of the long windows by the front door, so I only noticed how his stare had lingered on me for a moment too long once I’d glanced back. I tilted my head in a silent question but before I could say much of anything, Marshall raised a single finger and was already stalking off.

My forehead furrowed into tight lines at the sudden retreat and I was left looking after him, but in the end, I just shook my head and let it go.

“Now look who’s not ready to leave.” I murmured quietly to myself, mostly in jest, whilst my eyes returned to the front drive.

It did actually look quite chilly out, the skies had a grey overcast to them and the branches of the nearby trees shook in the wind often enough that every third gust another leaf would fall. I watched one cascade slowly, winding its way lower and lower until it hit the grass, orange in colour but its stem still a vibrant green.

It was then, as I was lost in the world outside, focused on distant noise and the flock of birds which flew high, that Marshall returned. I heard the fall of his heavy steps grow nearer before they ultimately stopped by me. I ended up turning to look at him, but was instead met by a bundled ball of black.

Frowning, I peered at the arm holding the material and followed it up until I found his typically stoic face looking back at me. I lifted a brow, “What’s this for?”

His expression somehow managed to flatten further at the ask and so I reached out to take the thing, brow wrinkling even more at the hoodie that suddenly unfolded in my hand. I watched on as it unbundled itself in my hold, sleeves falling into my lap whilst my grip remained stuck on the hood. And yet, I still stared down at it in confusion.

“Uh,” It was a stupid reaction for sure, but I really was utterly baffled by the sudden item I’d been given and with no obvious explanation either. I glanced back up at Marshall, who was already wearing a hoodie of his own beneath his light jacket, so I guessed quite easily that the article of clothing hadn’t been meant for him. “This for me?”

I watched as his eyes slid closed for a second, as though he was taking a mere moment to breathe or some shit– like I was the confusing one here? Before he eventually dropped his head in a short nod, “You slow?”

My eyes were quick to narrow in retort to that response and I felt my tongue press against the sides of my teeth too, before finally, I allowed myself a smile that was nothing short of snarky. “Incredibly so, apparently. Especially without context and when someone’s being a proper prat about the entire thing.”

“Prat?”

I couldn't help it. It just– he sounded so stupid saying it in that Detroit accent of his, even more so when out of everything I’d just gone and said it was that particular word he’d chosen to get stuck on.

“Yes!” I laughed further, forever amused by the soft scrunch his face had taken on, it was almost enough to have me forgiving him entirely for his stupidity. “I mean, how was I supposed to know, Marshall? You walked off, then came back and said nothing.”

My snickering only continued, even as his cheeks hollowed out, but I’d quickly come to realise that the action was just one of the many he often resorted to when looking to dim down his own reactions. Typically, it was a smile.

“I gotta spell shit out for you?” He quizzed around a huffy exhale, quirking a brow at me when I widened my eyes in retaliation, “You said it was cold out. You’re sat in a t-shirt. We’re going outside, you’ll freeze. Ergo hoodie.”

“Ergo?” I blanched at him, entirely baffled by the odd phrasing, before I actually started cackling again. “Who the fuck even says that?”

“El.” Marshall warned lowly, but it was already too late. I'd seen the slight twitch the corner of his mouth had made when he’d gone to say my name and there was no use in denying it.

I chose to dampen my grin though, not wanting to push my luck here, and instead stood up to pull the hoodie on, grateful for the sweet sentiment even after the whole ordeal.

“Thanks for thinking of me.” I smiled over at him whilst I tugged my hair from out of the hood. His eyes slid away once they met mine though and so I put it down to the whole thing not being as big a deal as I’d made it out to be.

I briefly glanced down at my front, never really having felt anything as soft as the oversized jumper he’d allowed me to wear, but it was easy to see that it was very much him. Screamed Em in a sense, so black that even the slight text running down the side of it was emboldened in the colour.

I lifted my gaze, “Look okay?”

Marshall’s eyes flickered far left before they found me once more, my hands engulfed in too long sleeves, figure hidden by the thick fabric. He was quiet for a long moment but finally, his head dipped minutely in answer. Barely even a nod and yet I grinned.

“It’s warm as fuck.”

That got a chuckle out of him, or rather a snort. “Better be.”

His gaze met mine once more but this time it held, “Gonna take you to this diner a little bit away. Used to take Z there when she was a baby, it’s run down as shit now but it sort of became a habitual thing.”

My chest constricted at the notion, at him for wanting me to join them in a tradition that was wholeheartedly their own. I swallowed thickly around the emotion that gathered in my throat and coughed to clear it before my eyes could well. Last thing I wanted to do was cry like some weirdo.

“That sounds amazing.” I said after a breath, flashing him another smile, this one full of appreciation.

Marshall didn’t know what to do with that though it seemed, because he made this weird face that lasted less than a millisecond before he was shrugging, “I mean, just figured. We can head some place nearer, or get takeout if you’d prefer.”

My eyes must have widened on their own accord because his narrowed in observation. I was quick to shake my head, “No, honest. The diner sounds perfect. I actually could go for some real greasy food right about now.”

I pushed my hands into the pockets of the hoodie and hoped that he hadn’t retracted the offer just because he felt weird about it or that I’d think less of– I don't even know, him? That in itself made no sense, but I felt more than a little honoured to have been invited and I didn’t want him thinking I was anything but.

Eventually Marshall just nodded and a moment was barely able to pass between us before Rosie came storming down the stairs, a pink rain jacket haphazardly thrown over her shoulders and an exact copy of her dad’s Nike Airs on her feet. “Let’s go!”

She was met with an astonished look from her father when she skipped off the last step and flashed him a giant grin, oblivious to his stress induced wait. At the exchange, my laugh appeared to manifest into a gross sort of snort when I’d attempted to hold it in, earning a look off of Em too.

I raised my hands up at him in a mock surrender, only the tips of my fingers being seen over the cuff of my sleeves, and pressed my lips together when Rosie swanned on past the man to open the front door, already talking a mile a minute about how she’d spilt her pencils and had to clean them up only to have noticed this hair clip that she thought she had lost hiding down the side of her wardrobe.

Most would have started to lose their patience by now, what with both Rosie and I having been an apparent handful, but Marshall seemed to take it all in stride, tugging the door open easily enough above my head so that we could all slip on through. Rosie grabbed my hand just as we dropped off the first step and led me out after I smiled my thanks to the man, Marshall following the pair of us, and it was just as we made it back out to the man’s monster-truck that Z asked about my most recent trip to France.

“Dad said you were there a while ago, I can’t remember the last time we visited but he swears we’ve been.” The girl told me just as Em unlocked the car, the vehicle lights flashing a hazy orange. He headed straight on over to the driver's side door but Rosie appeared to falter in her step by the backseat, lips wrinkling as she turned to face me, “Wanna sit in the back together?”

She’d asked the question almost shyly, which surprised me seeing as it was a total contrast to the person I’d gotten to know, so I was quick to nod along, being more than used to the dynamic whenever I was out with Lottie, and let her tug open the back door for us. Rosie climbed in first just as the engine started up and then I slipped in right after, shaking off the slight chill I’d captured once the door shut behind me.

“Uh,” Came Marshall’s perplexed splutter from upfront, my head snapped up at the sound to meet his piercing gaze in the rearview mirror. “What am I– your Uber?”

Rosie and I shared a quick look and then giggled, not even having thought about her dad when we’d made the decision. The little girl took the question in stride though as she clicked her seatbelt in place, “Duh.”

Marshall’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh, so it’s like that? Aight, but know imma be expecting a tip.”

His daughter’s narrow-eyed stare really rivalled his own and had me stifling yet another smile. I waved him off though with a roll of my eyes, “It’s just easier to show her pictures from my trip back here. Don’t complain so much, or those old man allegations will stick.”

Em met my gaze briefly as he glanced over his shoulder to reverse back out of the driveway, the property’s steel gates opening at the motion and allowing us to pass through.

“Besides,” I smiled coyly after having witnessed his slightly curled lip, already pulling my phone out to do exactly that in hopes that Rosie might enjoy them, “It’s custom for a princess to be chauffeured around.”

The younger girl snickered at that, as well as the expression her dad then pulled, but nodded her agreement. “Yeah, Dad. Listen to the Brit, she knows all about royalty and stuff.”

Amused, my brow wrinkled in an attempt to bite back my grin and I swiped into my camera roll to pull up the pictures I’d snapped at Paris Fashion Week. Lottie had been fascinated at first, very into the idea of the mania that surrounded the high press event, but her excitement for it had died out as soon as she’d spotted the A-list celebs sitting amongst the first row, having pointed out and asked me which one I’d managed to meet. She was cute at times, but an unimaginable nightmare.

“Kid, don’t let her brainwash you with all that London crap, she ain’t never even met the Queen.” Marshall was quick to pipe up, drawing me from my scrolling.

I peered over at Rosie, who was looking at the back of her dad’s head with an unimpressed expression. “You said you liked her accent when I said it was funny.” Z argued around pursed lips, her rapid retort made me blink and shoot another look at the driver.

“So you do like my accent!” I all but gasped, smiling gleefully now, because see, it had become somewhat of a passtime for Marshall to rip the piss out of whatever I would end up saying whenever we’d call. He’d done it enough times now that I truly thought that it was just something he’d grown to put up with.

The roll of his eyes was caught in the rearview mirror before they shot over and captured mine for a split second. “I think it’s safe to let you know now that Z is a pathological liar.”

I snorted at the cheek of him, whilst the girl mentioned called out a miffed, “Hey!”

Marshall merely shrugged in reply, though it seemed that we both could make out his ever growing smirk even as he continued to watch the road.

“Don’t worry, lovely.” I assured the girl around another soft chuckle as I moved to squeeze her hand in a show of support, “I’ve grown used to your Dad’s–” I went to say bullshit, but paused before I actually could, “antics.” I supplied instead, grateful to the way Rosie seemed to be none the wiser to the slight stumble, although Em’s appreciative glance was a tad bit mirthful. I shot him a dark look.

The rest of the ride was spent with me explaining each picture that Rosie asked about; the gardens of my hotel that I’d been utterly taken with, having spent most, if not all, of my free time hiding within them; the Westwood catwalk show I’d had front row seats to, sitting beside Ms Vivienne herself whilst almost dying of heatstroke in the dress I’d worn (the lights had just been a lot, okay?); and even the Parisian markets I’d wandered into, having collected an array of still photos capturing stalls full of prints, fresh food, flowers and clothing.

It had been a hectic week, but really enjoyable. It was also nice to note that Rosie found some enjoyment in the experience too, gasping and awwing about all of the little details she managed to spot within the frames. Although, there had been one photo in particular that she’d seemed to get stuck on, sliding back and forth between the rest to look at it again and again. I took note and filed the information away for later.

By the time we pulled to a slow stop, I was blinking and peering around in surprise to find that we’d already arrived, having seemingly been caught up in listening to Rosie’s opinions over some of the outfits I’d loved enough to go backstage and capture.

The diner was just as Marshall had explained, rundown. But only by a tad. It was almost as though it had been frozen in time, whilst the rest of the world had continued on around it. Its red paint was rusted and chipped, cracking at the beams that were nothing if not supportive. The glass making up the windows were tinted a sheer yellow, stained from years of direct sunlight beaming through, and a sign hung high above the front entrance, squeaking in the wind.

Stepping out, I was surprised to see the look of anticipation that crossed Marshall’s face once he’d rounded the car to meet us, Rosie slipping into the space beside me after the door slammed shut. I grinned, marvelled by the sight of an authentic American diner, one that seemed to have lasted past the ages, and let my eyes roam over the shop’s exterior before finally looking back at Em who stood beside us.

His hands were stuffed into his pockets alongside the keys he’d just used to lock up the car, eyes taking note of the way his daughter’s hand slipped inside of mine without question to start leading the three of us over.

“They make the best ice cream sundaes.” Rosie mentioned with a bright smile, almost skipping in her giddy excitement whilst her dad trailed a step behind us. “Dad reckons it was all I would eat some days when I was little. I’d scream and throw a fit if he tried to feed me anything else.”

Em’s breathy snort echoed out over my shoulder as the diner’s door rattled to welcome us inside. “Yeah, and why’s that?” He questioned her, holding the handle to keep it from bumping either one of us.

“Because I only ever wanted the cherry and whipped cream a sundae could offer.” Rosie giggled, tiptoeing briefly to look out across the shop. She seemed to know exactly where she was headed after that, hurrying over to a booth sat in the far corner where the window and wall connected.

I glanced back at Marshall with a quizzical look and was gifted a small smile as he shucked his chin out to gesture me on. “It’s where we’ve always sat.”

Oh.

My feet guided me towards the cushioned booth, its padded seats worn enough to look like a boxing bag after a proper fall out with its fighter, but they were somehow comfier than the car we’d ridden over in– not that I’d ever let that slip. I settled into one side at the beckon of Z, whilst Em slid onto the opposing bench with a practised ease. I looked right up into his eyes after and couldn’t help the excited smile I wore, hoping for him to somehow see how much I was already enjoying myself.

“Why, hello! Been a while, ain’t it?”

I startled at the sound of the unexpected voice, something which in itself caught me off guard because I was usually always so hyper aware of everything going on around me. Blinking off the shock though, I peered over to my left to find an older lady with hair so red it could have only been box dyed, stood there with a couple menus. The colour matched her lipstick too and suited her so well that it was hard not to gift her a small grin.

Her bright eyes appeared to meet mine at that exact moment and a flash of surprise washed through the watery blue before it was gone. She checked her hip against the side of the booth to settle in, “Well, ain’t this a surprise. An’ here I were thinkin’ we’d jus’ have to put up with the pair of you fer the rest of our days.” A hand came to rest on my shoulder, nails also painted a glossy red, “You’re pretty too. How you doin’, honey?”

A tad bit overwhelmed by her welcoming nature and the thick accent that didn’t seem to be from around here, I leaned into the gesture and smiled up at her warmly. “I’m good, thank you. Hope your day hasn’t been too rough either.”

The woman tittered brightly at the reply, her mirthful surprise written plain as day across her features as she squeezed my shoulder gently, “Well, I’ll be damned.” She blew out before she could shoot a glance Marshall’s way, “A looker and a sweet talker. Got yerself a real good one here, sunny.”

Marshall appeared to hide his reaction behind the pair of fisted hands he’d been propping his chin against, but still made the effort to reply to the waitress once it had been stamped out, “Quit being nice. These Brits don’t know nothing about that tip you’re looking for.”

My eyes widened whilst Rosie just squeaked out a laugh, peeking her head out from beside me to grin over at the woman with a happy wave, “Heya, Marcie. How’s Pluto?”

The waitress, or rather, Marcie’s knees gave out a bit at the hello to better see the youngen, the hand which held the menus pressing against the table’s edge in an effort to lean closer. “Hey, baby girl. Pluto’s doin’ jus’ fine, loved those dawg treats you gave him the last time ya came around.”

Rosie’s face lit up at the admission whilst her dad’s appeared to age slightly at her reply, “I’ll make sure to bring a whole boxful next time!”

Marcie lapped it up though, laughing sweetly before she settled the menus in front of each of us. “I’ll mention it ta him.” She replied, then glanced about the rest of the table, “You two known one ‘nother long?”

That question seemed to be directed towards both Marshall and I, so I chanced a look over at the man to gauge his reaction and was pleasantly surprised to find him already wearing a small but fond smile. It wasn’t until Marcie raised a brow at him though that he moved to hide it again, almost as if he hadn’t even realised he’d been doing it at all.

“A while.” Marshall supplied with a roll of his eyes, not even taking a peep at the menu before he slid it back over to the woman, “That’s all you get too. So go stick your nose in Old Harry’s business for once.”

It was fucking rude, but the way he said it– Well, it once again had Marcie laughing up a storm. The entire exchange reminded me of the people back home, of the witty and sarcastic retorts most Yanks seemed to lack. It was rude, yeah, but honest and brash enough to show just how close these two supposed strangers actually were. Marshall knew Marcie, had known her for a long while even, that much was easy to see. And the woman had been surprised, really surprised, to see me sat here with him, even through all of her teasing, so that in itself gave me much to think about.

Marcie picked the menu up without looking or saying a thing about it. Then she hummed around another smile, “Most Harry’s got gowin’ on is that gout growin’ outta his foot.”

I had to thin my lips to withhold my snicker at her quick retort but even so the smile still shone through.

“Lovely, Marc.” Em drawled snarkily, before he slapped on a charming grin to bat his lashes up at the busty woman, “You talk to all your customers like that, or am I just special?”

“Ya know you’re ma only.” Marcie played along, nudging the man’s shoulder as she passed us by. Before she could actually disappear though she called out to us from over her shoulder, “Be back in a flash, jus’ need ma notepad!”

Watching her walk away, I found myself smiling, nose even wrinkling with the motion. She was a right character, one that oddly reminded me of this dinner lady I’d had back in primary school.

I was soon broken from my reminiscence when Marshall cleared his throat though, “She grows on you.” He murmured, catching my gaze, “Like cancer.”

“Dad!” Came Rosie’s hasty rebuke, one that had me giggling behind my palm as the girl playfully swatted her menu against her father’s arm.

“Or gout.” Marshall added in afterthought, smirking as he easily batted the girl’s attempts away.

“You know Marcie’s the best!” Rosie argued with him, but the corners of her grin had already begun to reach her eyes.

Marshall hummed lowly and pushed the menu back over towards his daughter, then he looked at me, “Should have gave you a warning though. Looked like you were at a circus when she arrived.”

My eyes narrowed, “She just caught me off guard, is all! Didn’t see her come up behind me.”

Rosie chuckled sweetly as she leant into my side and Em resettled his head against his fisted palms, looking between the two of us.

“It’s ‘cause she used to be a dancer. Says it’s why she’s so light on her feet.” Z let slip, but Marshall’s slight grimace told me a different story. One I let be for now.

“Seems the sort.” I said to the girl, smiling as I picked up my plastic menu card to toy with an edge, “Know what you’re getting?”

“A milkshake.” Was the confident answer before Rosie’s eyes shyly slipped over towards her dad, who raised an eyebrow, “Please?”

“Actual food, baby.” Marshall coaxed as he moved to rest against the tabletop on his forearms, but Z chewed on her lower lip, expression morphing into something which resembled a puppy quietly begging for treats. He sighed, folding all too quickly, “We can share one, but actual food first.”

The grin he received in turn was nothing short of adoring and Rosie was quick to dip her head in agreement, eyes surveying the menu once more. “The tenders look good.”

Em’s smile was soft and I watched on as he dropped his chin in a silent okay, eventually though his gaze shifted over to me, he waited.

I rolled my eyes, having caught on quickly, “Figured just a hamburger and chips.”

“Fries.” He automatically corrected which had me huffing out an airy laugh as I shook my head at the already argued debate.

Rosie, though, appeared to blink at our short exchange. “I forgot about that.” She giggled to herself before she then turned to her dad, “Why do they call them chips anyway?”

Marshall raised a shoulder in answer, “They’re backwards.”

Scowling, it was my turn to swat the man with the plastic menu and both Z and I laughed when he actually cowered further into the booth to avoid the next swing. “You’re backwards, driving on the wrong side of the road and paying for sodding healthcare.” I scoffed.

The most I was given in return was a long look from the man.

My eyes narrowed, “Bite me.”

Rosie was still giggling away at the pair of us, eyes alight, before she peered over at me, “I think it’s cool that you say things differently.”

My nose scrunched around the pleased little smile that overwhelmed my face and I draped an arm around her to rope her into a side hug. “This is why you’re my favourite.”

Em scoffed and so I widened my smile for him, peering over at the man from across the table.

Soon enough Marcie returned, letting us place an order whilst she told a story about how the cook had almost lost his hand a couple of weeks back when he’d helped this old woman with her car which had stalled outfront. Marshall seemed content to just listen, throwing in a reply or two, whilst Rosie and I glanced between the older woman and the car park with a slight grimace.

The father and daughter duo did actually end up ordering that milkshake to share, chocolate they’d decided, which arrived just before our food, something that Em bit his tongue about after he’d witnessed Rosie’s excited expression. Whilst I just opted for water, wanting to save some room for my food that looked as enticing as a five course meal at the Hilton when it finally came out, what with how hungry I was.

“Thank you, Marcie.” I murmured softly, gifting the older woman an appreciative smile as she settled my plate down before me. Rosie decided to follow that up with an eager thanks of her own, milkshake already nearing the halfway point.

“Yer most welcome, hunnies.” The waitress acknowledged as she placed Em’s plate between his knife and fork, and it was then that I paused, not having recalled the man even ordering anything after he’d handed her back that menu. It seemed though like he had a usual here. “Can I get ya anythin’ else now?”

I shook my head just as Marshall waved the woman off, giving her his own nod of acknowledgement.

Marcie left with one final grin and the three of us settled in, Rosie covering half of her plate in ketchup whilst Em and I watched on in faint amusement.

The girl made a gesture with the bottle shortly after, offering it up to me, and so I opened the bun of my burger to allow her a chance to squeeze a dollop on the patty. We both snickered at the novelty sound the bottle made before she then leaned over the table to do the same to her dad’s.

When I glanced back up from replacing my burger’s top, I was a little surprised to see Marshall observing us once more, before Rosie captured the entirety of his attention, switching out the red sauce bottle to a yellow mustard. He moved to thank the girl in a low register. After which, the rest of the meal was spent sharing odd tidbits; Rosie’s day at school, my flight over from London, before Em then started poking fun at my food.

“What?” He snickered around the mouthful of fries he just tossed back, “No burger is complete without cheese. I said what I said.”

“Why’s it called one then?” I quipped, having picked up my cheeseless burger and taken a bite. I wiped at the corners of my mouth with my tongue and raised a terse brow at the man. “It’s not my fault I can’t stand the stuff.”

Rosie sat there beside me a tad bit baffled, “I can’t believe people like you actually exist.”

I couldn’t quite help the laugh that bubbled from me, “Z! Come on, don’t team up against me now!”

Bless her heart, the girl did look a tad bit sheepish at that. So I bumped her shoulder with my own and winked, it seemed to spur her on.

“I’m not! Just, I don’t know anyone who hates cheese! Does that mean you don’t like lasagne?” Asking that though only made her gasp whilst her entire face seemed to drain of colour, “Or pizza?”

Snorting, I simply shook my head. “Hate it.”

Rosie’s jaw dropped open.

Surprisingly, it was Marshall that came to my rescue with that one as he shrugged a single shoulder at the topic. “Pizza’s always touch and go. Can count on one hand how many times I’ve actually enjoyed a slice.”

His daughter's frown was prominent and from this angle I could only assume that it looked even more devastating from Marshall’s point of view, “But you always end up finishing my half.”

Em gifted her a smile, but shrugged lightly, “It’s a waste otherwise.” It was then that he leant in a little closer though, speaking before he pulled a face, “Besides, who says no to free pizza?”

Rosie chuckled, content with his answer. Though I could understand the sentiment of its first part. Some kids grew up worrying over food and money, whether mum or dad would have enough to put dinner on the table or keep the lights on, because that was just what they were taught, what they had picked up on. Others, lucky ones like Rosie, were able to just be kids.

By the time the three of us were finished, I was a tad bit fatigued from how quickly I’d managed to scarf down my food and Em had since leaned back in the booth to place a hand over his stomach. Rosie giggled at the sight we must have made whilst she shook her head, “Is this what being old means?”

Both Marshall and I shot her a sharp look at the unexpected muse, my mouth gaping at the sheer cheek, but before either of us could even get a word in to argue, the girl was already scampering underneath the table to slip on out the other side. “Going to the restroom!” She told us brightly, her beaming grin giving way to the humour she’d found in tormenting the pair of us.

Marshall merely clucked his tongue at his daughter’s retreating figure before he eventually rolled his head back over towards me. He huffed, “Don’t have kids. They’re assholes.”

Grinning, I propped my chin up on my hands and let my eyes slip close. “Yeah, but they’re cute arseholes.”

Em grunted.

I blinked blearily to peer over at him. “Thanks for bringing me.”

A faint line etched itself into the skin between his brows, “Don’t thank me, it’s nothing.”

With a roll of my eyes, I blew out a breath, “It’s not nothing.” I tried, dropping my chin slightly to catch his eye, “It means a lot that you invited me here, I can see how much it means to you guys.”

“It’s a dump.”

I exhaled around a disbelieving smile. “But it’s yours. And it’s Rosie’s. And it doesn’t matter what the fuck it looks like because the people here are warm and the food is fucking amazing.” I laughed then and scooched a little closer to press against the table's edge, “Stop worrying about whether I care or not.”

He scowled minutely at that before the look softened into something other, a half a minute passed between us and his eyes settled on the lot beyond the window. “Just ain’t showy, is it? Don’t want you like thinkin’– I don’t care or some shit. Just ‘cause I didn’–“

I cut him off there to poke fun, “Wine me and dine me?”

But his face said it all. This man truly didn’t realise how wrong he was.

Shaking my head lightly, I sighed and wondered how to word my answer exactly. “Em, I didn’t come here expecting you to put on a show for me. For you to hide behind some facade or flaunt your wealth. ‘Cause if you were looking for something like that then I’d be best pointing you in the direction of the nearest groupie.”

I let go a chuckle and we both shared a smile, even if his was a little less than anticipated.

“And I know that you care. In your own odd way. And that’s enough for me because I’ve seen how much you care, in all of our calls and sporadic texts, in the videos you pass on just because you reckon they’ll make me laugh like they did you.”

I looked at him then, I mean really looked, and hoped that he could make out the sincerity which lined my voice. Because I’d felt that, I’d been the person sat there waiting for the other shoe to drop, for somebody to finally ask for something or make demands. But I’d sooner die before I treated someone else like that. Still, I just figured that with all the years he had on me he might have figured that much out about me before I had to go and tell him.

“I didn’t come here looking for Eminem. Or for the life your money gives you. I like the fact that you’re off the grid. That you keep a jar by the fridge so you don’t swear in front of your daughter. That you plant flowers in your garden and pick up your friends from the airport, just because you can. And that you take said friend to a place that obviously holds such a sentimental spot in that old heart of yours. Because I know that you showing me this is your way of letting me in without having to say a bunch of shit about it, to make me feel welcomed whilst I’m staying with you. ‘Cause that’s just who you are.”

It should have been unnerving, the way his eyes had settled on me since I’d started this whole tangent, but I found myself looking back almost as intensely.

My words had been honest, I just needed him to see that.

Marshall went to say something but paused before he actually could, gaze skittering down to the tabletop before his eyes flashed back up to meet mine. For all that he could rap and spit a couple rhymes, he truly was a man of few words. Although, they were always paired with a genuine lilt and studying stare, “I appreciate that. And you, for saying it.”

Somehow I managed to muster a sheepish smile. I ended up nodding at him once, fiddling with the sleeve of the hoodie I wore before Marcie came swanning back over with Rosie attached to her hip, a container in the girl’s hands.

Marshall cleared his throat and shifted in his seat to welcome the duo back into the fold, eyes immediately honing in on the box. He shucked his chin out towards it, “What you got?”

Marcie squeezed the girl in a close hug and then let her go. “A couple treats.” She informed him, and when Em dared to open his mouth in retort, probably to deny the offer, the woman promptly cut him off, “On the house. An’ fer later.” She tittered before she flashed a look at both Marshall and I, “There’s plenty there fer you two as well. Don’tchu worry.”

Laughing softly at the exchange, I beamed at the redhead, “Thanks, I don’t think I’ve eaten this good in ages.”

It was an offhanded comment, one that appeared to make Marcie grin as she leaned in to rub my shoulder in a show of gratitude, whilst Marshall’s eyes lingered.

“The little lady mentioned ya had a penchant fer chocolate,” Marcie mentioned with a conspiratorial smirk, “So I saved ya some of our best cake– jus’ make sure this one here don’t get ta it first.”

Marshall pursed his lips when the waitress nudged her head over in his direction and only blew out a breathy chuckle when the woman added, “Though he could stand to put on a few, a good gust a wind might jus’ come an’ blow ya over, sunshine.”

The man in question rolled his eyes, not unkindly, as he waved Marcie off, probably all too used to it. But my mind had been caught on one word. Sunshine.

It suited him, I deemed. Almost ironically.

“I’m fine.” Marshall huffed at her, but he’d paired it with the quirk of his mouth to soften the blow. “Gonna have to waddle over to the car with how good I just ate.”

“Too right!” Marcie applauded him, then swerved around the table’s corner to pick up some of our dishes with a smile. Em grabbed the milkshake just as she reached for it though and slurped up the dregs of the runny chocolate that Rosie had yet to finish. “Animal.” The woman muttered, shaking her head at the man who then helped her to pick up the rest.

Marshall rose from the booth, cups and plates in hand, and motioned Marcie ahead of him without a word. I watched in practical awe as the man meandered his way throughout the diner alongside the older woman to drop off the round of dirtied dishes into the kitchen, neither one of them even second guessing the motion.

I shook my head to clear the many thoughts which had managed to wrangle my mind into a chokehold. Forever surprised by him.

Rosie slipped into the booth opposite, container perched happily in her hands, and so I leaned in to smile over at her, “What did you get?”

“Cookies and a little red velvet.” She chirped happily, holding the box out for me to peer into. “The chocolate’s yours and the muffins are Dad’s.”

“If they taste as good as they look you guys will never get rid of me.” I laughed softly before I shared a secret grin with the girl.

“You wouldn’t hear me complaining.”

That in itself warmed my heart. “Yeah, just wait until you see me tomorrow morning,” I teased, then gestured towards my face, “It’s scary.”

Rosie snickered and shook her head, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

I grinned and pushed away from the table to raise my hands in jest. “You’ve been warned!”

It was then that Marshall walked back over and my eyes caught the slip he held. “You two ready to go? Figured we could–”

“You paid already?” I asked with a slight frown, eyes jumping from the check up to his confused expression.

“Yeah.” He retorted, raising a brow.

I stuck my hand out and made a grabby motion for it, “Lemme see how much I owe you then, I wanna give Marcie a tip, too.”

Instead of doing exactly that, Em shoved the slip into his pocket and rocked back on his feet, “Already done.”

“Marsh,” I pressed, head tilting with it as I swerved in my seat to let my legs out. “Come on, I’ve got this one. You’re already doing so much for me.”

The fucker just stood there though with an unimpressed stare and gave me a slow blink. Then he gestured his head over to Rosie, motioning for the girl to start moving, and Rosie did so with a small grin that she was quietly attempting to dim.

I stood too, “Marshall.” It was almost said in warning but the man was already moving, leaving me to catch up.

I smiled politely at a waitress, who hadn’t served us, holding a tray of coffee cups and then again when we bypassed a group of patrons that were settled further up front. Em just continued on, mind already made up, but I made a point to at least catch Marcie on our way out.

Thankfully the woman was stationed up by the till still and so I paused by a breakfast stool at the bar she was working behind. The redhead glanced up at me and it was then that I saw the strange glint in her eye, she smiled wryly as though she already knew what I was going to say. She even beat me to the punch, “He said ya’d put up a fight.”

We shared a mirthful glance in the direction of the diner’s door where said man stood waiting just beyond, hands in his pockets and staring back at us.

I huffed out a somewhat humoured chuckle but pressed further against the bartop, the fight was already lost. “He didn't even offer.” I said,feeling the need to throw it in, “And I know it’s stupid and traditional bullshit, but he’s already made me feel so welcomed here. I just don’t want him thinkin’ I’m taking advantage. You know?”

Marcie cackled, bright red nails coming up to clutch at the bar’s edge, “No, I don’t know, missy. If I were ya I’d be takin’ full advantage of the fact that he don’t offer, unlike most men I’ve met throughout ma life, he’s an honest one. A true gentleman.”

I snorted slightly at the picture my mind conjured, Marshall dressed in old-timey clothes and maybe a monocle, but knew that she saw me slump a little, realising how right she was.

She pressed against the counter though to shoot me a wicked grin, arms falling effortlessly one over the other, “‘Tween you an’ me, ‘ve been workin’ on an edge where he’ll come in one day wiv’a set a house keys jus’ fer me.”

The laugh that escaped me caught me by surprise and I ended up shaking my head at her blatant teasing, thankful for the way she’d allowed me to see that him paying wasn’t as big of a deal as I was making it out to be. “I’ll see how I can help then.” I reasoned with her, which earned me a proud look in turn.

“Knew there were a reason I liked you.” Marcie tittered and her eyes returned to the door just before she tilted her head to look at me once more, “It’s his waya sayin’ thank you, I ‘spose. Fer comin’ here with ‘em, or maybe just fer actin’ the way ya do around his little girl.”

My brow wrinkled and so the woman clucked a faint chuckle, the sound sweet and inviting.

“God girl, you don’t see it, do ya?” Her smile stayed strong even as I frowned further in confusion. “He don’t bring many folks ‘round here. An’ I ain’t stupid, I know who he is but I also know who he was. An’ those two men ain’t all that different. You’ll realise what I mean soon enough.”

I wanted to pester her further, because all she’d really given me was a puzzle to solve. But I couldn’t quite force myself to, not with the way she was smiling as though she knew something I didn’t, her twinkling blue eyes flickering over towards the door just before it rang out again.

“El, daddy says he’s gonna leave your ass behind!”

“Dollar!” I called out without thinking, pointing at the little lady who’d just stuck her head through the opening.

Rosie gaped at me for a second, probably shocked I said it, before she laughed, “I’m just repeating what he said!”

“Uhuh,” I dragged out, unable to contain the smile which bloomed even as I cocked a hip against the counter and raised my brow. “Should I let him know that then?”

Her eyes grew so wide I was honestly a little concerned. But it was then that Marcie stepped in to save her, “Secrets safe with me, honey.”

My head swivelled over to find the woman already grinning, her eyes alive with the strength of it. I rolled my own in fond amusement and shook my head at the pair, “Two against one.”

Rosie had since stepped in through the door and was now peering over at me with those doe eyes of hers. I crumbled far too easily, “Fine, me too. But I want a pinky promise to seal the deal.”

The girl nodded hastily enough and so I moved over towards her, offering up a pinky for her to wrap her own around. We grinned and let our hands drop, linked fingers still in place. Z glanced over in Marcie’s direction then and I followed her to find the waitress watching us with a warm smile.

“Take care now. An’ I’ll be hopin’ to see yer face again soon, missy.” Marcie warned me with a finger pointed in my direction. I couldn't find it in me to deny her but still, I shot her an impish grin as I pushed open the door once more, letting Rosie slip through.

“I make no promises but I’ll think about it!” I called out to her over my shoulder, “That chocolate cake had better be the best I’ll ever have!”

Marcie’s brilliant laughter followed us out as she waved goodbye, Rosie leading me across the lot and over to the car Marshall was propped up against. The man pocketed his phone when he saw us approaching and gave me a questioning look, probably to see if we were still good.

With a roll of my eyes and after the conversation I’d just had with Marcie, I couldn’t quite berate him for what he’d done, but still stopped short by the car to shoot him a warning glance, “Next time it’s on me.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, even got as far as to open his giant gob before Rosie had to cut in, “Just let her have this one, Dad.” She giggled, opening up the backseat to climb inside.

“Yeah, let me have this one.” I quipped giddily, the two of us in an odd sort of standoff now.

Surprisingly Marshall relented with just a sigh and the shake of his head, motioning me into the car before muttering, “What have I signed up for?”

I swatted his shoulder in passing and he laughed, opening the door up wider for me to join Z in the backseat. I stopped him just before he could let it fall shut. “Thank you.” I told him, not wanting him to know that I was anything other than grateful.

Em looked at me for a long moment, shadowed eyes flickering back and forth between my own before he dipped his chin slowly, a coy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It was only when he knew that I’d caught it that he let the door close.

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