#and if that’s not the ‘problem’ then GET OVER YOURSELF and maybe try giving initiating open communication yourself a try | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miraclewoozi · 10 months ago

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DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome. or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it.

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader. content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song.

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong.

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.”

He was right.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all.

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say.

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position.

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air.

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done.

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal.

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present.

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you.

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember.

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter.

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again.

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary.

The urge to just… lean in to you.

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees.

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again.

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly.

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop.

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday.

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare.

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once.

He swears.

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure.

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting.

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway.

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t.

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances.

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise.

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that.

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come.

Eight seconds later… still nothing.

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light.

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug.

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again.

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?”

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue.

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before.

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip.

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter.

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh.

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair.

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop.

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders.

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help.

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place.

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head.

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in.

I love them. Thank you, you said.

It’s perfect.

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double.

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead.

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue.

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose.

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late.

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to.

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are.

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob.

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum.

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him.

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen.

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door.

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important.

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair.

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath.

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright.

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened.

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head.

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop.

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together.

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said.

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love.

With someone who wasn’t him.

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt. And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before.

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder.

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it.

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush.

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head.

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth.

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you.

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too.

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure.

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together.

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try.

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could.

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down.

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better.

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same.

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved.

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person.

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say.

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here.

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no.

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline.

Not enough, but some.

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin.

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky.

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough.

Happy New Year.

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes.

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you.

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow…

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there.

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you.

You could do it, his brain tells him.

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter?

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside.

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said.

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in.

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule.

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all.

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday.

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you.

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change.

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant.

The pouting continued.

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table.

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right?

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling.

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together.

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features.

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road.

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess,

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks.

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer.

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for�� ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks.

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick.

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone.

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own.

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block.

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths.

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too.

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again.

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

#vernon fluff #vernon x reader #vernon chwe fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hansol x reader #hansol fluff #kpop fluff #j writes.#*#so nervous ab posting this. anyway. i wrote this for meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and my deluded ass is gonna go jump in a hole now GOODBYE <3 #vernon fanfic

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helen-with-an-a · 22 days ago

Note

would you consider a part 2 to be the best?

maybe everyone realises reader making an effort and she starts to get closer at team bonding nights etc. then gets angry and thinks everyone will go back to hating her but happy ending

Hiiii - so I hope you enjoy this - I might make another part, I might not - I'm not quite sure

Be The Best part 3

AWFC x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

Description: R joins the team on a trip to the cinema

Word Count: 4.4k

Deciding what to wear – it seemed like such a simple task, yet it was the one thing consuming your thoughts. It was more than just picking an outfit; it felt like the key to unlocking your entire evening. If you could just figure out what to wear, then maybe everything else would follow. The outfit could set the tone, give you confidence, and make you feel ready to face whatever was coming your way. Or at least, that's what you kept telling yourself, over and over, as if the right choice of clothes could somehow solve all your other problems too. The pressure to get it right was overwhelming, as if choosing the perfect outfit would magically make everything else fall into place.

But it wasn’t even a special occasion – it was just the cinema. A casual, relaxed outing, nothing crazy, nothing formal. Just the cinema. You were going to watch a movie, sit in the dark for a couple of hours, and maybe grab a snack or two. No big deal. It wasn’t like you were going to a fancy dinner or an important meeting. Just the cinema.

And yet, it wasn’t just the cinema. It was the cinema with your friends, work colleagues, people you have definitely bullied at times. You knew you had to strike a delicate balance – casual, but not too casual; relaxed, but still put together. It wasn’t simply about the clothes. It was about perception, about how the others would see you and what they would think. Every choice seemed to carry a weight that extended far beyond fabric and fashion. Would they notice if you were too dressed up, standing out like you were trying too hard? Or would they judge you if you were too laid-back, as if you didn’t care at all?

For most people, it was just a routine outing, something they had done countless times. But for you, it was uncharted territory, an experience you’d only heard about or seen in movies themselves. The idea of sitting in a dark theatre, surrounded by others, watching a story unfold on a massive screen – this was completely new. You didn’t know the unspoken rules, the social cues that everyone else seemed to take for granted. How were you supposed to act? What was the right amount of enthusiasm or restraint?

And what about conversation? That was another minefield altogether. You knew the basic rule: no talking during the film. That part seemed straightforward enough. But what about before the film started, when everyone was finding their seats, shuffling in with popcorn and drinks? Was there a right way to initiate small talk in those brief moments of dimmed lights and hushed voices? Should you comment on the previews, ask about their day, or maybe even crack a light joke to ease any tension? Or would it be better to keep it simple, just a casual greeting before settling into the silence? The uncertainty gnawed at you, making it difficult to predict how you should approach those moments.

And then there was the aftermath, the part that seemed the most daunting of all. What would you talk about after the film ended? How do people usually transition from the intensity of the movie back to regular conversation? Should you start with your thoughts on the film, maybe offer an opinion or ask for theirs? But what if your opinions didn’t match? What if you missed a key detail, or your interpretation was off? Would you come across as clueless or out of touch? You didn’t want to be the one who misread the mood, who either overanalysed every scene or brushed off the film too casually.

What if they didn’t want to talk to you? That fear was the heaviest of all, lurking in the back of your mind and casting a shadow over everything else. Leah had promised that you were welcome to attend the team bonding event, insisting that it would be a good opportunity to relax and connect away from the pressures of the football field. But did they really want you there? Was her invitation genuinely extended on behalf of the entire team, or was it just a polite gesture, something she felt obligated to offer? The thought gnawed at you, making you second-guess every detail of the evening.

You had been so mean to them for so long – too long, really. Screaming had been your only form of communication, your voice always raised, always harsh, leaving no room for warmth or understanding. It was as if yelling was the only way you knew how to convey your thoughts, your frustrations, your demands.

Images of Kyra’s terrified eyes flashed across your mind, haunting you in those quiet moments when the noise of the day had finally died down. You remembered the way she would flinch whenever you called her name, her eyes wide and fearful, as if bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught. It wasn’t just once or twice – no, those moments were all too frequent, etched into the fabric of your daily routine. You could almost hear the echo of your own voice, sharp and cutting, as you berated her for the smallest mistakes, things that now seemed so insignificant in hindsight.

You had changed four times already, each outfit a different attempt to strike the right balance, to somehow capture the perfect blend of casual yet polished, approachable yet confident. Each time you thought you’d found the right look, doubt crept in, nagging at the edges of your mind until you found yourself back at the mirror, scrutinising every detail. First, it was joggers and T-shirt – too casual, you decided, too close to something you’d wear lounging around the house, not quite right for an evening where you wanted to make a better impression. Then came the one dress you owned – simple, comfortable, but suddenly it felt too much, as if you were trying too hard, the exact opposite of what you wanted.

You tried again, opting for a more relaxed outfit, a sweater and a pair of tailored pants, thinking this might strike the right chord. But as you stood there, looking at yourself, the reflection staring back seemed off, like you were wearing someone else’s clothes. You looked like you were going into a business meeting. It didn’t feel like you, or at least not the version of yourself you wanted to present tonight. So you changed again, this time into something more middle-ground, some baggy jeans and a top. But even then, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t quite right.

As you stood there in front of the mirror, surrounded by discarded outfits strewn across the bed, you wondered if maybe the clothes weren’t the real issue. Maybe it was the fact that no matter what you wore, you couldn’t escape the history you carried with you, the reputation you had built, and the uncertainty of whether any outfit could really make a difference in how you were perceived.

Your phone buzzed on the desk, the familiar vibration cutting through the thick fog of your thoughts. The sound startled you, pulling you out of the endless loop of doubt and second-guessing that had been consuming your mind for what felt like hours. You glanced over and saw the screen light up with your alarm, its insistent tone a stark reminder that time had finally run out. There was no more room for deliberation, no more opportunity to agonise over every detail.

It took you longer than expected to get to the cinema, your nerves slowing you down at every turn. The streets seemed unfamiliar, the route winding through a part of town that you rarely ventured into. As you navigated through the maze of side roads and intersections, you couldn't help but notice how different this area felt from your usual haunts. It was quieter, more residential, with an air of nostalgia that hung in the evening breeze. The buildings here had a certain charm, with their old-fashioned storefronts and quaint cafés, each one exuding a sense of history that made you feel like you had stepped back in time.

When you finally arrived at the cinema, it wasn’t what you had expected. You had envisioned something sleek and modern, a polished building with neon lights and a buzzing crowd. Instead, you found yourself standing in front of a place that felt like a hidden gem, tucked away from the busier parts of the city. The cinema was smaller, more intimate, and as you approached, you were struck by its unexpected charm. The exterior was unassuming, with a classic marquee that displayed the film titles in black letters against a white backdrop, the lights around it softly glowing in the dimming light.

Inside, the atmosphere was cozy and inviting, a far cry from the sterile, impersonal theatre you had walked past as a kid. It was cute – more retro than you had anticipated, with an ambiance that immediately put you at ease. The plush blue seats lined the aisles, each one a deep, rich shade that contrasted beautifully with the cream-colored walls. The seats looked like they had been carefully maintained, their upholstery soft and welcoming, as if they had been chosen for comfort rather than just practicality. The walls, with their creamy tones, added to the sense of warmth, their subtle detailing suggesting a bygone era when cinemas were more than just places to watch a film – they were places to experience something special.

"Hey, I'm glad you could make it," Kim said softly when she saw you arrive, her voice warm and welcoming. There was something genuine in her tone, a sincerity that caught you slightly off guard. It was as if she truly meant it, as if your presence was something she had been hoping for rather than just politely acknowledging. Her smile was gentle, her eyes reflecting a kindness that made you pause for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

You had been so wrapped up in your own anxieties, so convinced that your arrival would be met with indifference – or worse, thinly veiled discomfort – that her friendly greeting threw you off balance. For a split second, you hesitated, searching for the right words, something casual and appropriate to say in return. But nothing came out. Instead, you grimaced awkwardly back at her, your lips twisting into a half-hearted smile that you knew looked forced.

It was as though your body had betrayed you, refusing to cooperate in this moment of unexpected kindness. You could feel the tension in your shoulders, the way your jaw tightened as you struggled to mirror the warmth in Kim’s voice with an expression that didn’t come naturally to you. Inside, you were cringing at your own inability to respond with the same ease, the same natural friendliness that Kim seemed to embody so effortlessly.

Your grimace felt clumsy, a stark contrast to her welcoming demeanour. It was as if all the insecurities you had been trying to suppress suddenly bubbled up to the surface, making it impossible to relax and just be in the moment. You worried that Kim could see through your awkwardness, that she might pick up on the discomfort you were trying so hard to mask. Would she interpret it as reluctance? As a sign that you didn't really want to be there? The thought made your stomach twist, amplifying the awkwardness of the situation.

But Kim, ever gracious, didn’t let it faze her. She continued to smile, her eyes softening with understanding, as if she sensed your unease but chose not to dwell on it. Her kindness was unwavering, a quiet reassurance that perhaps, despite your own self-doubt, you were more welcome than you realised. “I think you’re the last one to arrive.”

“Sorry, it took longer than I thought to get here,” you said, your voice tinged with an apologetic edge as you finally caught up with Kim. You tried to sound casual, but the nerves were evident in the way you fumbled with your words. Your gaze flickered around the room, searching for something to latch onto to avoid the awkwardness of the moment.

“No worries,” Kim replied with a reassuring smile, her tone light and understanding. “Was there much traffic?”

“Uh, no,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. You cleared your throat, trying to steady your nerves. “I mean, there wasn’t much traffic. I just – I've, I’ve just not been here before, so …” You trailed off, the words sputtering out like a car sputtering to a halt. The sentence hung in the air, unfinished and awkward.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. It wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the location that threw you off; it was the whole social aspect of the evening that felt out of place.

“Hey, you came!” Leah shouted from across the lobby, her voice ringing out with a burst of enthusiasm that cut through the low murmur of conversation. The suddenness of her greeting was a relief, taking the spotlight off Kim and saving her from having to respond to your earlier, awkward attempt at small talk. Leah’s energy seemed to fill the space, her bright smile and warm manner making it clear that she was genuinely pleased to see you.

“Hi,” you whispered back, the word barely escaping your lips as you struggled to match her enthusiasm with your own shaky confidence. You felt a pang of awkwardness, compounded by the realisation that you were still adjusting to the surroundings

Leah, unfazed by your quiet response, continued with her upbeat tone. “Do you want to grab some snacks before you go in?”

Snacks? The word hit you like a revelation. You had always thought of the cinema as a place where people just sat in darkened rooms and watched movies, perhaps grabbing a quick drink from a vending machine if they were really desperate. But the idea of having snacks felt almost revolutionary. The concept of indulging in something edible during a film was so foreign to you that you blinked in surprise, momentarily caught off guard.

You looked around, taking in the lobby’s setup with new eyes. It was bustling with people moving toward a counter where a variety of snacks were displayed. The counter was an array of tempting options: large tubs of buttery popcorn and colourful sweets. The whole scene seemed like an elaborate concession to comfort, something you had never considered part of the cinema experience before.

Alessia, who had joined Leah in welcoming you, turned to you with a warm smile. “What��s your go-to?” she asked, her tone inviting and friendly. Her curiosity seemed genuine, and it made you feel a bit more at ease.

You hesitated, glancing at the array of snacks before you, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your uncertainty evident. The variety of choices seemed almost overwhelming, and you weren’t sure where to start.

Alessia laughed lightly, a sound that was both comforting and disarming. “Ah, a ‘see how you feel’ kind of person,” she said, nodding knowingly as if she understood your approach. Her laughter and casual attitude made it clear that she wasn’t judging you, but rather finding your indecision endearing.

“Um, no,” you replied, feeling a bit embarrassed as you tried to explain. “I’ve not been to the cinema before.” The admission felt awkward, and you braced yourself for whatever reaction might follow.

Alessia stared at you, her eyes widening in shock. “What do you mean?” she asked, disbelief evident in her voice. “Surely you went growing up? I know we don’t have much time now, but still.”

You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of your admission feeling heavier under Alessia’s surprised gaze. “Uh, no. My, uh, my dad said it was a waste of time,” you said, your voice trailing off. The memory of your father’s dismissive attitude made you feel vulnerable, as if you were exposing a part of your past that was uncomfortable to revisit.

Alessia’s surprise was palpable, her mouth forming a small “O” as she processed what you had just revealed. Her eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the information. It was as if the notion of someone never having been to the cinema before was a concept so foreign that it took her a moment to fully grasp it. Her reaction was a blend of shock and genuine curiosity, making you feel even more self-conscious.

You could feel your face flush with embarrassment as you watched her reaction unfold. The realisation that you had just divulged a personal detail about your upbringing – a detail that seemed to have left such an impact on Alessia – made you mentally kick yourself. Why couldn’t you have just gone along with her question, given a generic answer, and avoided this awkward revelation altogether?

As Alessia’s initial shock gave way to a more empathetic expression, you mentally berated yourself for not just playing along. She could almost hear the internal dialogue in your head: “Why did I have to be so honest? Why couldn’t I just say I like popcorn or candy and leave it at that?” You bit your lip, hard, gasping slightly at the familiar pain.

But as you watched Alessia’s expression soften into one of understanding, you also noticed the subtle shift in her stance. She seemed genuinely concerned and determined to make sure you felt comfortable. Her initial shock had transformed into a compassionate response, as if she was now more committed than ever to ensuring that your first cinema experience was enjoyable and welcoming.

“Well, usually I go for some popcorn,” Alessia said with a casual shrug, her tone easy and conversational. “But I decided on Pick ‘n’ Mix today.” She paused, as if considering the options and her own choice. Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief and excitement, reflecting a genuine enthusiasm for the variety of treats on offer. “If you get some popcorn, we could share?” she suggested, her offer smooth and natural, as though it were the most effortless thing in the world.

“Y-you want to share?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. The shock in your tone was palpable, your words tinged with disbelief. The notion that Alessia, someone who had been so kind and welcoming, would offer to share something as simple as popcorn with you felt almost surreal. The gesture seemed magnified by your own insecurities and the weight of your past interactions with her

You stood there, momentarily taken aback, struggling to reconcile Alessia’s warmth with the harshness you remembered from your own behaviour. It was as if her kindness had momentarily suspended reality, making you question whether you deserved such a generous offer. You had been so accustomed to keeping others at a distance, to reacting defensively or with hostility, that the idea of someone reaching out to you with genuine friendliness felt foreign and unexpected.

“Of course, come on, let’s get some popcorn,” Alessia said, her smile broadening into a welcoming expression that seemed to dispel any lingering awkwardness. Her enthusiasm was infectious, a burst of positive energy that made you feel more at ease despite your earlier reservations.

Without missing a beat, she reached out and gently grabbed your elbow, her touch both firm and reassuring.

The film wasn’t necessarily your choice, but as it played out on the screen, you found yourself increasingly engrossed. You never really had time for films – growing up, your father had made you watch old matches and now, as an adult, you did the same. There was something about the action, the romance, the unexpected twist at the end that drew you in and kept you close.

Sitting wedged in between Alessia and Leah wasn’t too bad either. In fact, it turned out to be one of the more pleasant surprises of the evening. Alessia, seated to your right, had a laugh that was genuinely infectious. Each time something amusing or surprising happened on the screen, her laughter would bubble up – a warm, genuine sound that was impossible not to be affected by. It was the kind of laugh that seemed to fill the room with a sense of shared joy, creating a subtle but tangible bond between you and the rest of the audience. Her enthusiasm was both comforting and uplifting, making the film experience feel even more enjoyable.

Leah, on your left, contributed to the cozy atmosphere with her own unique presence. She kept up a quiet commentary throughout the film, her murmurs barely audible but filled with insightful observations and humorous remarks. Her comments were like little nuggets of insight, offering a fresh perspective on the film's twists and turns. You had expected that her talking might become distracting or irritating, but instead, it had the opposite effect. Leah’s commentary felt like a private conversation that added another layer to your viewing experience, one that was both engaging and endearing.

Rather than finding Leah's remarks bothersome, you found yourself appreciating them. Her thoughtful, almost reverent musings about the film’s plot and characters added depth to your own viewing experience. It was as though she was sharing a part of her own enthusiasm and understanding with you, making the film feel more interactive and immersive. Each comment was delivered with a subtlety that ensured it didn't disrupt your enjoyment, but rather complemented it, adding an extra dimension to your engagement with the story.

The combination of Alessia’s lively, infectious laughter and Leah’s quiet, reflective commentary created a perfect balance that made sitting between them a surprisingly enjoyable experience. It turned out to be a blend of energy and insight that enhanced the film’s appeal, making the whole experience feel more communal and enjoyable.

“Oh, my god. That was so good!” Stina cheered as you all left the theater, her excitement practically radiating from her. Her blonde ponytail whipped from side to side with each enthusiastic hop down the steps, creating a lively and contagious energy that seemed to spread through the group. Stina’s reaction was a burst of pure, unfiltered enthusiasm, her voice ringing with genuine excitement about the film you had just seen.

Conversations about favourite scenes and surprising plot twists began to bubble up, each person eager to share their thoughts and opinions on the film. It was as if Stina’s initial reaction had unlocked a wave of shared enthusiasm that everyone was eager to join in on.

“Yeah, that twist at the end was incredible!” Steph chimed in, her voice laced with amazement. “I didn’t see that coming at all.” The sentiment was echoed by several others, their faces animated with excitement as they recounted their favourite moments. The film had clearly struck a chord with the group, and the sense of collective satisfaction was palpable. Had this been what you were missing out on every time you declined an invite?

Before you could get too far into your head, Kim came up behind you, her shoulder gently nudging yours in a friendly, almost reassuring manner. The touch was light but deliberate, a small gesture that drew you back from your swirling thoughts and into the present moment. Her presence was warm and grounding, a reminder that you were part of a group, and her approachable demeanor made it easier to transition from the excitement of the film to the next part of the evening.

“So, what did you think?” Kim asked, her voice filled with genuine interest. There was a subtle anticipation in her tone, an expectation that your opinion would contribute to the collective conversation.

“I liked the film. It was very good,” you responded, your voice steady but still tinged with the residual excitement from the movie. You were still processing the film’s impact and the lively discussion that had followed, and Kim’s question provided a moment to articulate your enjoyment. It felt good to share your positive reaction, to be part of the enthusiastic response that had characterised the group’s reactions.

Kim’s eyes brightened at your response, and she smiled with a hint of mischief. “Good enough to come to dinner with us?” she asked, her tone light and inviting.

You froze for a moment, a sudden wave of uncertainty washing over you. Did Kim really want you to join them for dinner? The question seemed to echo in your mind, stirring up a flurry of anxious thoughts. The idea of continuing the evening with the group was both inviting and intimidating, and you couldn’t help but question whether you truly belonged in this social setting.

A twinge of apprehension gnawed at you as you considered the possibility of making a mistake. What if you inadvertently did something wrong or said something out of turn? The fear of misstepping or failing to live up to the group’s expectations loomed large. You imagined potential scenarios where your actions might not align with the group’s dynamics, leading to awkwardness or discomfort.

And what if you got angry with them again? What if you ruined the night? What if you did something wrong and they kicked you off the team? A tight knot of anxiety bubbled up in your chest, making it difficult to fully embrace the invitation. The prospect of making a good impression and avoiding past mistakes felt like a significant challenge. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that Kim’s invitation was a gesture of goodwill, a sign that your presence was valued and welcomed.

“Umm, yeah, yeah, I think so,” you said, your voice gaining confidence as you spoke. “If that’s ok with you?” The question was as much about seeking reassurance as it was about confirming your participation. It was a polite gesture, ensuring that your presence was welcome and that you weren’t imposing on the group’s plans.

Kim’s smile widened, and she gave you a reassuring nod. “Absolutely, it’s totally okay,” she said warmly. “We’d love to have you join us. It’s just a casual dinner, nothing too formal. We’re all going to this great place nearby – should be a lot of fun!”

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swordsandholly · 6 months ago

Text

Across the Way

Chapter 4: New and Old Problems Alike

Retired!Ghoap x Fem!Fat!Reader

Ao3 | Previous - Next | Masterlist

MDNI | cw: fainting, some medical inaccuracies

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

You haven’t texted them, even three days later. That little sticky note haunts the surface of your kitchen counter. It taunts you - tells you that you should text them and at least give them your number. That you’re being a terrible neighbor. They might need you too, after all. Even though you can’t figure out why they might for the life of you. On the other hand, you can’t help but feel wary about it. Men don’t take an interest in you - people in general rarely take interest. It’s hard not to feel suspicious, as pure as you’re sure their intentions probably are.

More so than any of that, you don’t know what to say. If it had been day one you could have just put your name, but now you feel like you need to explain. Or at least be funny or something. Tossing and turning on your designated rest day about what the hell you should do.

You’re overthinking it. You know that. You can’t stop, either.

They just seem so cool - so put together. So unlike you. You want to impress them. You don’t want to ruin the first possibility of friends in this new life you’re building for yourself.

Eventually you work up the courage to send off an initial text to each of them. Just to give them your name to save if they so choose - plus an extra thank you to Simon for giving you their numbers in the first place. Something simple and borderline cold. Too cold, maybe? Maybe you sound irritated. You hope not. You just want them to like you. Friends in new places are hard and to have someone around you who gets how it feels to need accommodations would just feel so… lovely. Your phone may or may not go flying onto your bed while you bury your face in your hands out of sheer nervousness.

You don’t expect it to chime about a minute later. Right as you’re staring to calm down, of course. It sends your heart violently pounding all over again.

J >> Bonnie lass!

J >> So glad u texted!!

>> Sorry it took so long lol

Oh, you could just slap yourself. You don’t have anything better than that? At all? Christ.

J >> Nah Nah

J >> No worries

J >> Actually I was wondering if u would mind if I came by tomorrow

J >> Just to chat

J >> need an excuse to get out of the house

“How the hell does he type that fast?” You scoff to yourself.

>> Yeah, come by anytime.

>> totally

>> yea sounds cool

>> rad, man

A message from Simon pops up mid your internal battle with how to respond, replying with a simple thumbs up. Very in character, you think. He knows how to be nonchalant. What would Simon say? Something casual, maybe a little formal.

>> If you like. You’re always welcome.

Okay maybe that was too much like Simon. You sigh heavily m before adding,

>> I’m trying out a new blueberry loaf

>> If you want to test for me :)

Better. That’s a little better. With another heavy sigh you decide to drop your phone into your nightstand for the rest of the day. Your heart really cannot handle this much emotional pressure.

~~~

You sort of end up just forgetting about the texts. With your phone out of sight and out of mind upstairs in your apartment it almost catches you off guard when Johnny comes striding through the door just before close. He’s dressed more casually than the last couple of times you saw him - having broken out the summer shorts and a graphic tee for some band you don’t recognize. It suits him, though.

“Hey, bon.” He grins.

“Hey.” You smile back, finishing with putting up your stocking baskets before dusting off your hands and turning around. “Simon closing up?”

“Aye.”

You hum. “Come on back, I’ll get you a slice of that loaf I mentioned.”

Johnny follows you quietly. Uncharacteristically quietly. That’s okay - you don’t have a problem with hanging out in silence. It doesn’t feel tense, surprisingly enough. He leaves Riley out front again. Should you get her a dog bed? Maybe if he comes by consistently. That would be nice. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“It’s sort of a pound cake but fluffier. I might make an icing for it but I don’t know if that would be too sweet…” You trail off, focusing on plating up the piece. You’re not sure what compels you to try and make it pretty for him. Probably something you could blame on your grandmother. She did have an obsession with presentation.

Johnny hums loudly after taking a bite, talking around the mouthful. “Y’should totally make an icing.” He swallows roughly. “Si would go crazy fer this.”

“Oh?” You smile. “I’ll send some home with you.”

There’s a lapse of silence while Johnny chews on his slice of bread and you pack up some in a paper bag for him to take home. The only sounds in the room comprised of your cutting and folding and the hum of the cooling oven.

“You’re being weirdly quiet.” You blurt, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. “I, uh, I mean that isn’t a bad thing! I don’t mind… I just, uh, was… sorry, never mind…”

“Well I did come wit’ a bit of an ulterior motive…” Johnny admits, glancing off to the side shyly. It’s a show, you think. Johnny doesn’t seem the type of man to have felt shy a day in his life.

You tilt your head. “Oh?”

He dusts off his hands and grins. “Let us take ye out! In celebration of yer first full month.”

Has it been a month already? “Oh - no, no you don’t have to-“

“C’mon! It’s a big accomplishment.” His smile is so bright that you almost believe his idea that you’ve done something great.

“…alright.” You give a tentative smile. It’s hard to believe they like you enough to want to hang out casually in the evening. Hard to imagine anyone liking you that much but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“There’s a pub down the street - the one on the corner. Want tae meet us there around six?” Johnny gives you that lovely smile. How could you ever say no to a smile like that?

“Okay.”

You spend far too long changing in and out of clothes and fussing with your hair. Up-do’s and buns and braids. A tank top then a sweater then a t-shirt. There’s no reason to feel this stressed over it. It’s not a date or anything. Besides, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. Either way you look like a frumpy dumpling. Eventually you land on jeans and one of your designated ‘going out tops.’ At least it’s a good excuse to wear something other than work clothes or loungewear.

Excitement and anxiety thrum under your skin like electricity as you make your way down the street. You feel painfully nauseous - stopping once or twice just to make sure you aren’t about to throw up for real.

The pub is surprisingly quiet when you enter. Obviously somewhere only real locals hang out - there’s no theme or really any decor in general. Just a bar, some booths and a couple pool tables. You scan the floor a few times, not seeing either Johnny or Simon (not that they would be hard to miss). Eventually you just grab a soda from the bar and slide into one of the booths closer to the back. A quiet spot facing the door where you can easily watch for them.

As time ticks on you begin to grow increasingly nervous. Did you get the time wrong? No, no you triple checked. You even wrote it down in your planner. Your leg begins to bounce furiously, heart nearly beating out of your chest. Did they decide to ditch? You wouldn’t really blame them. They’re way out of your league when it comes to friends. Maybe Johnny had an emergency? Should you call Simon? If he had an emergency it would make sense that they would forget to notice you. What if something really bad happened? What if-

The front door opens and Simon’s wide frame strides through, holding the door for Johnny and Riley to come in behind him. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, willing your leg to stop bouncing with a pinch to your thigh. Why are you always so damn dramatic?

Johnny lights up with an ear to ear grin when he spots you, bee-lining for the booth while Simon casually walks up to the bar. It’s almost comedic, the way he dwarfs the counter. Johnny leans on the side of the booth, waiting for Simon, you think.

“Glad ye could come out.” He looks you over, eyes flicking from your plain top to the very practical, not at all stylish up do that you landed on for the evening.

You do your best not to squirm under his gaze. “Me too…”

Simon comes back with two beers in hand and slides them onto the table. He scoots into the inner booth to give Johnny the outer edge. Riley happily sits beside his leg and practically grins at you in a near mirror image of Johnny’s. You’d never do it while she’s on the job, of course, but part of you wants to give her a pat on the head and coo at her for being so polite.

Johnny gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry we were a bit late-”

“Johnny redid his hair about five times.” Simon butts in, not reacting at all to Johnny’s sputtering protest. He glances at your half-drunk soda. “Want me t’ grab you a beer?”

“Oh, no, I’ll just stick to coke.”

They blink at you. Simon cocks his head slightly. “You sure?”

You chew your lip. “Uh, alcohol tends to aggravate my symptoms is all...”

“Then why’d ye agree to drinks? We coulda gone somewhere else.” Johnny frowns.

You shrug. “I don’t mind. I… maybe this is over sharing but I’d rather go out and be kind of normal than just… not ever. Y’know?”

His expression softens. For having such icy blue eyes they are so, so warm. “I get it.”

“How’d you two meet anyway?” You blurt, taking a left turn to get the conversation off of you. It’s the first question that comes to mind. Maybe it’s rude - maybe you’re prying too much already.

“Military.” Simon grunts. “SAS.”

“Si retired wit’ me after I was discharged.” Johnny points to his scar the same way he did when you first met. “Russians scrambled my egg a bit.”

“Couldn’t do the time apart…” Simon murmurs, eyes locked on Johnny’s face. It’s vulnerable. More than he’s used to - you can see it in the way he tenses after saying it.

Something passes between them that a deep, wounded part of you desperately wishes to understand.

You can’t help but start giggling to yourself. They both give you an incredulous look. “Sorry, sorry - it’s just, that’s like… totally a romance book premise. It’s sweet. Really.”

“Och, aye. Wouldn’t know it t’ look at him but Si’s a real romantic.” Johnny bats his eyes at the other man, who just rolls his in response. The corner of his scarred mouth quirks up subtly.

“SAS…” You repeat, staring at your drink. “That’s like Navy Seal shit, right?”

“We worked with them a few times, yes.” Simon nods. There’s an air of ‘do not ask anything more specific’ in his voice.

“Huh.” You take that for what it is and sit back, squinting at them. “You don’t look it, honestly.”

Johnny laughs. “Tha’s just cause ye havennae seen Simon with his gear on. The Ghost.” He wiggles his fingers along as he makes a stupid, spooky sound effect. “I domesticated him.”

Simon scoffs but doesn’t deny it, just takes a quiet sip of his beer.

“Riley’s a vet, too.” Johnny pats her head. “Got too skittish around loud noises but she transitioned into a service dog nicely.”

“Now she’s just spoiled.” Simon rolls his eyes in faux annoyance. You get the strong feeling that he’s the one doing the spoiling.

You find yourself relaxing as the night goes on. Slouching in your seat rather than sitting ramrod straight and nervously twiddling your thumbs. They never press you to drink, never insist that you’ll be fine with just one. They take your statement as fact and it isn’t brought up again. That shouldn’t be as significant as it is, now that you think about it.

Johnny’s words begin to slur a little bit on his fourth, no maybe fifth, beer. You aren’t sure. It’s very cute, the little blush that forms across his cheeks. Simon loosens up, too. He slings an arm around the back of the booth and Johnny readily tucks himself into the open spot. You find yourself wondering about their military career again. You can’t picture either of them committing violence - especially Simon. Sure, he’s big and gruff but he looks at Johnny so, so softly.

Simon is the one to call it a night - though you have a feeling its because you nodded off a couple times. Not out of boredom, you try really, really hard to pay attention to Johnny rambling about the chemistry of different explosives. He makes it interesting, somehow. Really it’s just that you’ve been awake for… holy shit almost twenty hours!

“D’you need a ride?” Simon asks as you exit the pub, hands firmly shoved into his pockets.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know how to interpret the look he’s giving you. It’s intense, but not annoyed or displeased. He has such a weird knack for unreadable but distinct expressions. You wonder if you’ll ever get close enough to get good at deciphering them.

You jump when Johnny takes both your hands in, kissing the backs of them with a sloppy, drunk smile. “Thank ye fer comin’ out. “

Somehow your face feels hotter than a damn oven. You tuck your hands to your chest, kicking shyly at the sidewalk. “Th-thanks for the invite. We, uh, we could do it again sometime?”

You glance up hopefully, praying that you didn’t misread the situation. You’ve done that before - thought people liked you more than they did. Johnny just grins wider somehow and nods excitedly.

You watch them walk off in the other direction, hand in hand. Johnny giggles about something loudly and you can see Simon’s shoulders shake with a far more silent laugh. All the way until they disappear down the street.

The sheer amount that the image hurts your heart makes you feel evil.

~~~

The pub changed something. What, you don’t know. Either way, you fall into an easy pattern with Johnny and Simon over the next couple weeks. Exchanges of food, leftovers or morsels about to turn, little visits back and forth between your shops. Johnny continues to stop by after close, just hanging around with you while Simon closes up shop.

You can’t deny how much you look forward to hearing that door chime followed by a too-loud greeting from Johnny. How your heart flips in your chest when those bright blue eyes peek around the corner into the back room or light up while trying a new recipes you’ve been testing. You’re still a bit awkward - unsure how to react when he throws an arm around your shoulders or listens oh so intently while you talk about nothing important.

Things can’t ever be all sunshine and rainbows, though. Not for you. A new problem has arisen as summer truly sets in - the comfortable spring breezes giving way to nothing but bright, unfiltered sun. One you didn’t expect to impact you this much living this far north.

Heat.

It’s hard to breathe in the back room while you’re baking. Hard to keep your water and salt intake high enough to compensate for how fast you lose them. You might as well get a permanent saline drip attached to you at this point. You definitely didn’t google if that was physically possible. Your budget for liquid IVs and other supplements nearly doubles. Standing over the massive oven in the back room has your head swimming a few times. You end up resting longer on your weekends, unable to keep up like you could in cooler weather.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, the summer here isn’t like back home. It will pass quicker. Plus, you at least have methods of dealing with it now other than crossing your fingers and praying.

“Bonnie!” Johnny suddenly appears in your doorway - that charming smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Ye made it up Main Street yet?”

“No?” You tilt your head and try to ignore the way your vision spots momentarily at the motion. “Why?”

“Ye dinnae hear about the summer festival?” He leans on your counter. You shake your head. “It’s a yearly thing. Not that big a deal but they have some fun games an’ it’s nice tae see everyone out an’ about. Si an’ I are about tae head down. Come wit’?”

You hesitate. The exhaustion in your body tugs at your spine. Your limbs feel heavy. This morning really got to you - out of towners who must have come for the festival flooded your shop the moment it opened on top of your Saturday regulars. Not that you’re complaining, really. It’s easily your best day so far. You want to go with them, though, despite the ache in your back and the sting in your joints. It sounds so fun and it’s never a bad idea to take part in your new community’s festivities.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” You smile. You can tough it out for an hour, then come back home. Yeah, just an hour. You’ll be fine.

You hadn’t noticed Simon leaned up at the entrance to your shop. Your eyes lock on his arms. This is the first time you’ve actually seen him in short sleeves. You can’t help but stare at his half-sleeve tattoo - all skulls and bombs and other military motifs. Faded and sun worn. Yeah, if you’d seen that sooner you definitely would have picked up on the whole military thing. You bite your lip to keep from snickering about it.

You can hear the music drifting from the speakers down the street. A few kids run by with balloons and cheap carnival prizes. It almost reminds you of the Spring Fling back home, just missing the extreme American flag theming across every booth and vendor front. Now that you’re looking around, you can actually see several booths that have been sponsored by various businesses in the area. Even the post office has a snow cone stand. The deeper you get into the event, the more flamboyant the decor becomes. Multicolored streamers and pennet flags connect stands, creating an almost canopy effect.

Simon stops rather abruptly at a booth, waiting behind a few teenagers tossing rings onto bottles. You stop with Johnny about two feet away. What’s he thinking? Simon doesn’t seem like the type who would be too entertained by basic carnival games. Even so, he steps forward and passes over a couple bills to the vendor as soon as the teenagers leave.

“Si’s really good at these. Watch.” Johnny grins beside you.

“Aren’t they rigged?” You raise an eyebrow.

Johnny doesn’t answer, eyes locked on his husband as he lines up one of the rings. You have to lean slightly to see around the breadth of the man - the multicolor rings almost cartoonishly small in his hands. Cute. Your eyes get impossibly wide with each toss, every single one landing comfortably on the bottle necks as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. As if this isn’t one of the most commonly rigged carnival games.

“Holy shit…” You mutter, still staring.

“Aye, tha’s a SAS sniper for ye.” Johnny laughs. “Glad tae see it still comes in handy.”

Simon huffs out a quiet laugh at that. Almost more of a sigh if it weren’t for the shaking of his shoulders. You love it - their little dynamic. The bond between them that’s so strong it’s almost visible.

“‘ere.” Simon turns to you suddenly, holding out a cheap little carnival prize. You can’t even begin to decipher what it’s supposed to be - some sort of furry puff ball with big, embroidered anime eyes and two felt antennae sticking up out of it’s purple head… body… thing…

Your face heats. “F-, uh, me?”

He shrugs. “Suits you. Riley will just chew it up if we take it home.”

“Aye. She’s so good with everythin’ but cheap plushies.” Johnny snickers.

You glance down at the dog in question - her dark eyes glued to the toy in Simon’s hand. Her tail thumps against the ground where she sists dutifully, but you can see the desire to snatch the thing away in her twitchy ears and pleading eyes. You snort, taking the stupid thing and tucking it under your arm with the prayer that they don’t notice the heat now spreading from your cheeks to your ears.

“Thanks…” you murmur, already mentally deciding where to add it to the mess of stuffies covering your bed already.

Somehow you end up walking between them down the street - Simon on your left and Johnny on your right with Riley in tow. You stop at a few other games here and there. All pretty basic. Johnny absolutely kills at the dunk booth.

Simon tires his hardest to help you with your terrible aim, “Just visualize it. Y’have t’ account for the arc.”

You get to the point of sticking your tongue out in concentration. Even so you only manage to knock down a couple of the wooden ducks at the ‘Dunk-A-Duck’ stand. You do, however, win one of those rock candy sticks at the guessing booth. You just hand it off to Johnny. It’s probably not best to load up on sugar in your current state.

Johnny excitedly points to different buildings giving you a rundown of the history of his hometown as you walk. Simon seems to barely be listening. He’s probably heard this a thousand times. Prattling on about the old town square, the church bell that a bunch of teenagers spray painted one time (Johnny was not involved, how could you accuse him of that?)

You find yourself focusing on your feet - keeping each step even and fast enough to remain on pace with them. One, two, one, two, one, two. The air begins to thicken. Muggy and heavy on your skin. Your breaths become shallow and fast. You can’t catch it, the air seeming to get stuck in your throat rather than reaching your lungs. Spots begin to dance across your vision. You stumble over nothing.

Not now! Come on! You’ve been doing so well!

Riley presses against your leg acting as a counter weight. Your body moves on instinct to grab whatever you can - hands wrapping around something strong and covered with cloth. An arm solid as rebar. Hopefully it’s someone you know. All you can see are colorless shapes.

“Gonna pass out - don’t freak!” You gasp before your legs give out.

It’s not that you go entirely out - it’s rare that you fully black out. It’s more like being stuck. Limp and fuzzy and confused. Almost like sleep paralysis. There’s voices and people moving around you. Someone has picked you up, you think, based on the swaying motion and the passing shapes around you. Maybe that’s just vertigo. A door bell chimes.

You finally begin to really come to when something icy is pressed to your forehead. It couldn’t have been more than a handful of seconds that you were gone, but it takes much longer for the world around you to come back into focus.

“I’m sorry…” You murmur, eyes stinging. Even after all these years it’s so damn embarrassing. You blink, the distinct mural that decorates the ceiling of the post office slowly coming into view. Johnny said a big time traveling artist painted it back in the nineties.

“Ye alright?” Johnny murmurs, crouched down beside you. Riley sniffs at your hand, seeming satisfied when you finally move it on your own.

You nod slowly. “Overheated…”

“Give her this.” Someone says. An event medic, you think. The boys must have flagged them down. Fingers press to your pulse point, a light shines in your eyes and you follow it. A quick check of vitals. Johnny shoves a water bottle in your hand as soon as the medic decides you’re fine to move - the contents distinctly murky from some sort of electrolyte pack that’s been shaken into it.

“Up y’get. Slowly does it.” Simon helps you sit up with a hand on your back. It’s so gentle. You don’t miss how he cages in your body the way only someone intimately familiar with caretaking might. Fully ready to catch you if you go limp again.

You sip slow, eyes glued to the ground. You feel so fucking stupid. Can’t even walk down a street without creating some sort of scene. They’re never going to want to hang out with you again, are they? You can’t go out drinking, can’t walk around a festival for longer than a couple hours. You distracted Riley. What if something happened to Johnny while you were having your spell? She might not have alerted correctly because of you. She might have gotten confused and then he could have gotten hurt. He might have-

“Ye really should drink tha’ instead of glarin’ at it.” Johnny pulls you from your thoughts. He’s now sat with his legs crossed beside you. Riley’s head rests in his lap. She seems calm. Content now that the emergency is over and happily lying on a cool floor.

You hum, chugging the last bit of it quickly. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Simon says curtly. “Does this ‘appen often?”

You shrug. “Not as much anymore… usually my medication keeps me stable.”

“Do ye need a doctor?” Johnny tilts his head slightly. There’s no judgment in his tone - in either of their tones. Just calm concern. It probably shouldn’t make you want to cry as much as it does.

You shake your head. “I’ve got liquid IV at home. Just need to sleep it off.”

Hopefully. In reality, a pain flare up is inevitable now. You just won’t know how bad until you’re fully in it.

“Let’s get ye home.” Johnny says, knees popping as he stands.

“I-I’m fine!” You insist, mentally preparing to get yourself up off the floor. “I can get home on my own - I don’t want to ruin your time.”

Johnny levels his gaze onto you, so serious it almost looks angry. It doesn’t match his face. “We’re not leavin’ ye tae get home alone like this.”

You’re caught off guard when an arm slides under your back and another under knees - lifting you like you weigh half of what you do in reality. Like you’re a paperweight instead of a boulder. You blink up at Simon, far too surprised to be embarrassed. At least at first. You splutter out a poor attempt at convincing him to put you down. Excuse and reason after reason and excuse. They roll off him like water off a ducks back. Your face burns as he steps out of the post office with you neatly tucked against his chest - Johnny and Riley in tow.

If you allow yourself to be honest, to give into that weaker part of you (or, at least, the part you consider to be weak) you could possibly admit that this feels nice. Being cared for feels nice. Having your body up against someone else feels nice. It’s been a long time since anyone touched you outside of a polite handshake or accidental bump. You sink into it despite yourself - relaxing against Simon’s chest. They were right, you wouldn’t have made it back. Your head is too fuzzy and there’s that telltale pain in your shoulders radiating up to your neck that signifies an oncoming Bed Day.

It doesn’t take long with Simon’s lengthy strides to get back to your building. You probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up to that running. Well, you can’t really run much at all so you definitely wouldn’t. A stupid, muddled train of thought that melts into the hazy bog of your current mental state. Even Johnny trails a few feet behind. Neither of them speak, marching in determined silence. You attempt to subtly check their faces for any anger. You’d understand if they were angry. Most people would get angry. You interrupted their day out with your useless drama. All you get is a wide, bright grin from Johnny when your eyes eventually meet his.

Simon puts you down with all the care in the world. As if you’re made of fine china. His hand stays on your upper back - planted firmly between your shoulder blades and ready to catch you if need be. Your vision swims a bit, your joints feel like jelly but you manage to dig your keys out of your pocket and unlock the door.

“Here.” Johnny plops the puff ball back into your hands just as you turn to say goodbye. To say thank you - to apologize profusely.

Your brows raise. You completely forgot about it while swimming around in a sea of embarrassment - he must have picked it up for you. You hug it to your chest with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You shift your weight side to side, psyching yourself up for the crawl up the stairs. Probably literally. You don’t think you could stay upright if you tried to walk them like a regular day, or even with an aid. Like a regular or semi-regular person. Fuck.

Johnny follows your eyes up at the staircase. He must sense some hesitation in you. “Do ye need help up?”

You bite your lip, staring at the ground. Standing in one place seems alright, but the thought of climbing is so daunting, even with the cane you have stationed at the bottom of the steps for that exact purpose. It’s embarrassing. You’re young, you should be able to walk up some damn stairs. It isn’t even that many. It’s barely a full flight. Just one story of stairs for fuck’s sake.

“Hey.” Simon touches your cheek, the action snapping your eyes to his in surprise. “It’s okay. C’mere.”

He picks you up again in the same fashion with barely a grunt, taking his time up the steps so as not to jostle you. How many times has he done this with Johnny? you wonder. That’s the only explanation for how good he is at keeping your equilibrium so even. You wonder if he practiced - if he took caretaking classes. He probably did. Does he keep up at the gym just so he can take care of his husband? Simon might be quiet and a little formal, but he exudes dedication.

“Sorry it’s messy…” You murmur when they reach the top of the steps. Glancing behind you, you see Riley sitting patiently at the bottom. Johnny must have told her to stay. “Haven’t gotten to fully unpack…”

You’ve been spending too much time in bed on the weekends. Fucking lazy.

Johnny just laughs. “Ye shoulda seen the first place Simon an’ I had.”

“Wasn’t that bad.” Simon argues, carefully setting you down on the couch. His hands hold your waist to steady you. They’re so warm… It feels wrong to be disappointed when he lets go.

“We hadnae figured out a system yet.” Johnny huffs, hands on his hips. “We ended up hirin’ a specialized maid service the dishes got so backed up.”

You scoff, laying back against the couch with that stupid carnival prize still in your arms. Like it’s the only thing grounding you to reality. The tears that have been stinging your eyes this entire time continue to threaten to spill - a myriad of blinks and careful breaths the only thing keeping them back.

Johnny sits beside you slowly. You can’t meet his eyes. “Do… do ye want tae tell us what it is? Ye donnae have tae - it’s up tae ye. Just if somethin’ happens again…”

“We’d like to be prepared.” Simon jumps in where Johnny trails off.

You chew your lip, still staring up at the ceiling. It splits and that coppery taste coats your tongue for a moment. “I, uh, it’s called POTS. There’s different types but basically my body can’t regulate blood flow and pressure right…” You shrug. “Like I said my medication usually keeps me mostly okay.”

It’s the pain that really gets to you usually, but you don’t need to start dumping on them about that. There’s no reason to spill your guts about things they can’t fix.

“Thanks fer tellin’ us.” Johnny smiles. You stiffen slightly when he reaches out to tuck some hair behind your ear. You tilt your head, still resting on the back of the couch, to meet his eye. “Get some rest, yeah? We’ll lock the knob behind us. Call if ye need anythin’.”

“Okay.” You nod, keeping your eyes down and picking at your nails. “Sorry… about all this… I didn’t - I don’t… I’m sorry.”

“Donnae apologize.” He says softly as he stands. “Never apologize. We’re your friends, aye? Friends help friends. Tha’s all there is to it.”

Simon gives you a discerning nod behind him, expression both soft and deeply serious.

Friends? They consider you real life proper friends? Really? You can’t help but beam up at him. “Yeah.”

A/N: I’ve re-read this chapter so many times that it’s total mush in my brain which tells me it’s time to be done with it.

Bonus: I made a Pinterest board for this fic

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agoodroughandtumble · 5 months ago

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Roronoa Zoro x Reader - Hair Tie

Status: Complete (idk might be more parts) Summary: Zoro & Reader explore an island – Reader finds a way to keep Zoro from getting lost Warning: 18+. Language, mentions of NSFW but more innuendo/implied

“That’s...it,” you panted out, resting your hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath. “Screw what Nami will think. We are getting you a leash.”

Zoro looked down at you, an eyebrow arched and arms folded against his chest. “What’s up with you?”

Standing up fully you glared at him. “What’s “up” with me? I’ve just spent the past twenty minutes chasing after you.” The swordsman merely shrugged, only irritating you further.

Being paired up with Zoro whenever you landed on a new island was always a mixed blessing. Realising your feelings for the man were far from platonic was hardly surprising, but didn’t make his tendency to get lost any less infuriating. Especially when you were trying to spend more time with him and he kept wandering off. At least it wasn’t just you. In fact, the leash idea had initially been Nami’s. At the time she had been adamant that she had merely suggested it to you as a way of preventing him from getting lost – but it quickly became apparent that she was completely aware of your crush, and much to your chagrin found it far too amusing to keep teasing you about the subject.

Since then, it had become increasingly difficult to get the idea of Zoro tied up out of your head. Every time he was working out on deck, beads of sweat adorning his muscles, the small grunts, knuckles whitening slightly as his grip on the weights tightened… It had almost gotten to the point that whenever you saw him heading towards his make shift gym you had to make yourself scarce. Of course Nami always noticed, and always sent a smirk your way which just made you leave quicker.

Fortunately, on this particular occasion you were too annoyed to let your mind wander. Instead, you had an idea. With one hand you untied your ponytail and slipped the hairband around your wrist before taking hold of one of his. You tried to ignore the butterflies erupting at the contact, instead focusing all of your attention to stretching the hair tie over his wrist as well. Not exactly as foolproof as a leash, but you would be lying if you were complaining about the accessory forcing the backs of your hands to touch. You pulled away slightly, testing out your workmanship.

“This’ll do.” You tried to sound casual but the goosebumps running along your forearm were probably giving you away.

“You’re ridiculous.” Zoro gave you an amused look before glancing down to your conjoined wrists.

You raised your eyebrows – the fact that he hadn’t immediately pulled his hand out giving you a boost of confidence. “A big, strong swordsman like you could easily escape.”

His fingers brushed against yours slightly. You knew it was purely because of the proximity and yet your breath hitched a little at the sensation. Maybe it was a blessing you didn’t have an actual leash if you were getting this flustered with only a hair tie. You’d touched his hand before – usually when you were trying to drag him away from a bar but this was different. Intimate. Zoro was choosing to stay bound to you.

A small sigh left you. Difficult as it was, getting ahead of yourself would only cause more problems later. And you hated the fact that you were so far gone that even something as innocuous as him just not walking off was causing you to question whether there could be anything more under the surface. Every interaction was over analysed and questioned and just left you more confused. It was frustrating. Embarrassing.

“I didn’t say I was complaining.”

There it was again. The small flicker of hope. Zoro was infuriatingly hard to read, especially for someone usually so blunt. No, he wasn’t complaining. But that was far from being happy about the situation, being happy about the fact that your fingers were so excruciatingly close. It would take the smallest fraction of movement to hook your little finger around his and yet such an act felt impossible. You desperately wanted him to initiate something, anything, otherwise you were sure your heart was going to rip straight out of your chest. You were pathetic.

Worse than that, your newly found confidence seemed to be fleeting. You flexed your hand a little – suddenly aware of the pure ridiculousness of the situation. “This was just a joke, you don’t have to actually be tied to me. I just thought it would be fu-”

He twisted his wrist and suddenly his hand was clasping yours. You could feel the heat from his palm searing against the back of your hand, his thumb gently rubbing your little finger. A shiver ran down your spine, anticipating his next words.

So of course he was silent.

The pair of you walked in silence. Zoro seemed completely unfazed about the fact that he was very obviously and deliberately holding your hand, and you, well, you were trying to pretend that you had any sort of self-control. Your eyes darted along the street, trying to find something to comment on and relieve the ever growing tension. As if the gods themselves were smiling upon you, you found the perfect place – a place you knew Zoro couldn’t resist. A bar.

“Do you want to get a drink?” You asked, voice a little hoarser than it should be.

“You read my mind.”

The bar wasn’t particularly busy, it seemed more cosy. You scrunched your face a little at seeing that the majority of the tables were dimly lit booths in alcoves. A perfect spot for intimacy. For a date. Trust you to find the most romantic bar whilst stupid Zoro was holding your stupid hand. He strode confidently over to the bartender, almost tugging you along and rested both hands against the bar – seemingly forgetting you were literally attached. Your wrist hit the wood with a small thud.

“We can take this off…” You started, wriggling your fingers slightly.

“I’m fine. Drink with my other hand anyway.”

You let out an exhale. His nonchalance was starting to irritate you. If he wanted to hold your hand then obviously yes, he should do that. But if he was just being stubborn or making a point or it just didn’t bother him in the slightest… The man was infuriating. On the upside, you were in a bar. “I’ll have a beer. And a shot of … something.”

Zoro didn’t waver, purchasing the drinks before leading you to a booth. Since you were both still joined by the hair tie you had to sit with your thigh touching his. In hindsight maybe that had been a really bad idea. Or the best idea. You weren’t sure. All you were aware of was the smell of sweat and steel and how fucking big his thighs were. You adjusted yourself slightly, crossing your ankles together in an attempt to gain some sort of distance between the two of you. That action was rendered completely pointless when you went to take a sip from your beer with your dominant hand. The one that was currently attached to his. You fumbled slightly, withdrawing and then reaching with your free hand.

“Sorry,” your thumb ran along the label, pretending that was far more important than anything else happening around you. “I’m going to take this stupid thing off.” You turned slightly, reaching towards the hair tie.

“Don’t.”

His abrupt tone caught you off guard. You stared at him. All you could do was stare at him. Fuck his eyes were beautiful. At this proximity you noticed the small smattering of freckles along his cheekbones – how was he constantly getting more attractive? Surely at some point he had to run out of ways to make the butterflies perform somersaults. Feeling the nerves rising, you chewed on your bottom lip. Usually you longed for time alone with Zoro but now you were praying for a distraction, any distraction. You waited. And waited. Zoro looked at you expectantly but you were frozen in place. All you were aware of was the rise and fall of your chest and the way his lips ever so slightly parted as he continued to stare at you.

“Don’t…?”

The silence was thick. Viscous.

Zoro’s gaze dropped to your entwined hands. Your breath hitched. Heartbeat racing. His fingers running along your skin did nothing to relieve the tension. It was unbearable. Suffocating. Fuck. If he wasn’t going to break it you had to.

“Zo-”

“I want to be tied to you.”

You both stiffened. Another silence. Your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Eventually, his gaze lifted upwards. You wished it hadn’t. You felt like your entire body was on fire and yet you couldn’t do anything but remain completely still. Waiting for flight or fight. His free hand found your jaw, a gesture you had been waiting for for months, wanting for months and yet instead of relaxing into it, of allowing yourself to indulge in his touch you remained on edge, frozen in place.

“(Y/N) …,” he sighed and rested his forehead against yours. Breathing in the same air as you. “I want to be tied to you.”

#opla #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #opla x reader

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mingis-orangejuice · 4 months ago

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Asking the L&Ds boys "What are we?" Part 2: Xavier

Summary: MC and her boy have been in a sort of situation-ship but MC wants to know why they haven't officially called her their girlfriend

a/n: This ended up being much longer than I thought so I'm making it into 4 parts (one for each boy) here's part 2 with Xavier. you can request who you want me to post next if you want

Genres/Warnings: angst, fluff, kinda slow burn

Word count: 1250

Other parts: 1, 3, 4,

After another long day of battling wonderers, you and Xavier head back to the office to change out of your hunter’s uniforms. A whole day of combat makes you very sweaty and you don’t want to be smelly for your date with Xavier. But was it a date? You and Xavier had been going out for dinner almost every night since you found out you both lived in the same apartment complex. But they never really felt like dates, and he’s never really called you his girlfriend. You told yourself It was just more convenient since he couldn’t cook without potentially burning down the apartment and after a long day, you were just too tired to. Was that all it was, just a convenient way to have a meal? But what about all the dirty looks he gives the other male hunters when you get paired with them for assignments, were you just seeing things or was he jealous? But what does he have to be envious of if you’re not truly his?

“Are you ready to go?” a soft voice breaks you from your thoughts. You turn around to see Xavier standing behind you. You’d been waiting outside the changing rooms for him for a few minutes. “Sorry it took so long there was a problem with one of the showers, I had to rinse off in the sink”

You give Xavier a small smile as you both start to walk down the empty hall “How do you always end up in these situations? Are you cursed or something” you laugh “Don’t stand too close I don't want your curse to rub off on me” you say jokingly as you dramatically step away from him.

Following your joke he dramatically steps towards you and tries to put his arms around you. “But I don’t want to be the only one that's cursed hold me and we’ll be cursed together for the rest of our lives” he pulls you into a big bear hug as you both laugh while you pretend to escape. You both are having too much fun to notice the janitor glancing at you from over his shoulder while he cleans the windows “Ah, young love” he said with a sentimental sigh, quite enough that you two could just barely hear it but enough to make you realize that you’re not the only people in the building as you had initially thought. You can feel your heart race a little at the janitor's words. Xavier lets go of you and you continue to walk out of the building.

Trying to break the awkward silence Xavier finally speaks up. “You know, I heard wishing on a star can break a curse, and since we’re both cursed now you have to help me find a wishing star tonight to undo the curse. What do you say?” he asks looking at you expectantly

“Well yeah now since you’ve cursed me I guess I have no choice but to help you break the bad luck with showers curse” You feigned annoyance. “But first we need food! Where were you planning on taking us tonight?”

Xavier smiled, happy that the awkwardness from earlier was gone. “I saw this new pizza place a few blocks away from our apartment, it's like a DIY place they give you the dough and toppings and you get to bake it in the little ovens at your table” Xavier basically had stars in his eyes when he mentioned baking.

“Uh… maybe we order in tonight, you don’t want to have to pay for repairs when you destroy their oven now, do you ?” you look at him with a sarcastic grin.

“I promise I won’t burn down anything this time, plus I’ll have you right there with me, there's no way you’d let me burn our dinner right?” he chuckles and puts out his hand to grab yours. “Let's go, those pizzas aren’t going to DIY themselves”

Later at the pizza place you and Xavier are having fun making tons of fun, and in Xavier’s case, weird pizza combos. You two spent so much time having fun that you almost forgot you promised to go stargazing tonight before you went home. Xavier gets the attention of the waitress so that he can pay the bill.

The waitress was a sweet old lady who, when she wasn’t busy helping other tables, made it her mission to make sure you guys hand everything you need. “Did you two have a great time?” she asks handing Xavier the check.

“Yeah it was great, I love the concept it's so fun,” you said with a big smile. Xavier pays and looks up at the waitress “Yeah we’re definitely going to come back here”

“Oh, I’m glad,” The waitress says as she starts to grab your empty plates off the table. “You two are definitely the cutest couple I've seen here in a while, I hope you stay together forever.

“Um.. we’re…no…” you started to correct the lady but she just kept going.

I heard if you wish on a star by the fountain down the street you’re 100% guaranteed to have that wish come true. Maybe I’ll make a little wish for you two”

You were about to correct the lady again but Xavier cut you off “Thank you that's very kind of you ma’am” Xavier politely bowed as she stacked the last of the dishes and walked away. Xavier puts out his hand to help you out of your chair. “Well let's go find a wishing star to break this curse”

At the fountain, you and Xavier sit quietly for some time just looking up at the sky trying to find a star to wish on. Still feeling a little awkward about what the waitress said, you wanted to say something to make it less awkward but the words that spilled out were anything but. “What are we?

Xavier, without missing a beat answered “We’re just two people looking up at the stars”

“Just?” you questioned

Before you can say anything more a shooting star passes overhead, Xavier clasps his hands together and starts to wish “ Oh great wishing star please let me and my wonderful girlfriend be together forever, even though she doesn't trust me to use an oven by myself but that just means I get to take her out on more dates. And sometimes it may take her a while to notice things but she’s mine and I want to be with her forever, even though we might be cursed” Xavier finishes his wish and looks to you “What was it you wanted to ask me?

“Uh… nothing … never mind” You looked up to see him staring at you his eyes sparkling like stars a slight blush on his cheeks. This made your heart skip a beat so you looked away quickly and turned your head up to look for more stars.”I hope your wish comes true” you stated bashfully.

Xavier chuckled and also looked up “ Well since we’ll be together forever now, I guess we don’t really need to wish away the curse right ?”

“Yes, we do! I don’t want to be washing off in the company sinks every day, let’s hurry up and find another wishing star I'll stay here all night if I have to” You say in a joking tone

Xavier places his hand over yours “Well then, I’ll be glad to accompany my girlfriend on her quest to lift our curse.”

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munson-blurbs · 10 months ago

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: You once again found yourself face-to-face with Eddie not even twenty-four hours after he checked into the motel, and your interactions left you with more questions than answers. (3.8k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, grumpy Eddie, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter two: here today

Bzzzzzz!

Your alarm clock blared its tinny ring at 1 PM. The sun was bright, a welcome change from yesterday’s overcast skies and steady rainfall.

You stretched as you awoke before shedding your oversized shirt and shorts, padding over to the shower and waiting a full five minutes for the cold water to turn lukewarm. The thinning bar of soap formed sad suds in your palm, and you lathered your skin as best as you could.

Despite your best efforts, you kept thinking about your encounter last night—that morning, really—with Eddie Munson. There was a cocky edge to him, evident by his initial refusal to put out his joint, but at least a shred of humanity; after all, he did eventually comply. There was even a semblance of…something that’d you’d shared in your brief interaction.

Or maybe it was just your imagination, the summation of your exhaustion and his high.

The towel scratched as you dried the water droplets from your bare skin, and though the cloth dampened, you could have sworn that it wasn’t wicking any moisture. Dad had been saying for years that he’ll invest in new linens “as soon as business picks up.” But business never picked up enough to do anything more than barely break even for the year, so the ancient towels stayed.

Picking the lint off of your purple T-shirt, you tucked it into your jeans and shoved your feet into your sneakers without bothering to unlace them first. One look in the mirror determined that you definitely needed makeup to look half-decent, or at least awake. There was no earthly way you would sacrifice a minute of precious sleep, so you swiped on some mascara in favor of an intricate routine and quickly fixed your hair.

You plucked a granola bar from the stash on your dresser: your usual breakfast, tossed into your backpack as you headed out the door towards the lobby. The bus would be arriving in about five minutes, giving you just enough time to get to the stop before the doors closed. Barring any traffic, it followed a consistent schedule; one of the few certainties in life.

“Hi Dad; bye Dad,” you called out, stopping in your tracks when you saw an obviously irritated Eddie standing in front of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest and his foot anxiously tapping. At least he was fully dressed this time, clad in a faded band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and the same denim jacket he was wearing last night when he’d first walked in. “Everything okay?”

Dad motioned to Eddie. “Our guest is having some issues with his TV,” he said, his raised eyebrows indicating that the guest was being quite persistent about the matter. “Can you help him?” Before you could answer, he looked at Eddie and explained, “my daughter’s better with this technology stuff than I am.”

There was a temptation to argue that it was probably just a matter of smacking the side or replacing the remote batteries, but you didn’t have time to waste. “Yeah, sure,” you relented, turning to Eddie and waving him over. “Come on.”

Eddie waited to speak until the two of you were completely alone. “That was your dad?”

You nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets and keeping your walking pace until you reached his room.

“So what’s the problem?” you asked as he turned the key in the lock. It stuck for a moment before it fully unlatched, and he opened the door with a shove.

“The reception’s shit,” Eddie muttered, keeping his fingers splayed on the door so you could walk in first. “Every time I try to put on MTV, it’s all static. Tried it last night, too, but I figured it was because of the storm.” He gestured to the now-sunny skies. “But that shouldn’t be affecting it anymore.”

You offered a wry smile, the way you always did when delivering bad news to a guest. “Nothing’s wrong with the reception,” you explained, “there’s just no cable.”

“What?” His brows shot up in disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s simple.” You shrugged. “Cable costs money, we don’t have money; ergo, no cable.”

Eddie raked a hand through his messy curls. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” His feet could have worn holes in the floor with the way he was pacing. “Where can I watch MTV around here? Like, is there a bar or something?”

“Yeah, I mean, there’s one right down the—” You turned to the window but stopped mid-sentence, your stomach sinking as you watched your bus fly past. You heaved a dejected sigh as tears prickled at your eyes embarrassingly, and you blinked them away.

It’s okay; I haven’t been late at all this semester, you silently reminded yourself. You could take one of the dollar cabs that runs up and down Jamaica Avenue. It wouldn’t get you exactly where you needed to go, but it would be close enough.

Eddie remained oblivious to your inner turmoil, eyes trained on the TV. “Fuck,” he grumbled, sucking through his teeth.

“The clock radio plays music,” you offered as you hiked your backpack higher up on your shoulder. “I know it’s not the same as watching videos, but–”

“It’s not about the stupid videos!” he snapped, curling his palm into a tight fist and biting down on his forefinger knuckle. Dark eyes exuded distress, and you couldn’t help but think that his sheer panic mismatched the problem’s minimal severity.

You recoiled at his sudden outburst and took an instinctive step back. He noticed this, his expression instantly softening. His hand unfurled and fell to his side.

“Shit, I–”

“I’m gonna be late to class.” You composed yourself, straightening your posture and forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “But the bar is right on 144th and 89th.”

He sputtered as he searched for the right words to apologize and explain himself. If you had time, you’d wait for him to unscramble his thoughts, but you were already behind schedule now that your bus was long gone.

You strode across campus like you were on a mission, feet flying over the pavement. The cab had left you at another bus stop closer to school, and that bus had thankfully arrived on schedule. At this rate, you would only be ten minutes late to class.

Sweat trickled down your back from midday sun’s warmth and your fast pace, but you kept walking until you reached the lecture hall’s double doors. This class was a smaller one, only twenty or so students, so there was no sneaking in unnoticed.

You shot your professor an apologetic look that she accepted with a polite nod, sliding into your usual seat next to your friend Nora.

“Is everything okay?” Nora whispered, moving her own bag from the chair. The concern on her face was palpable; if you weren’t able to make it to class, you would have called her.

“Yeah, just stuff at the motel going haywire as usual,” you reassured her with a small smile, digging out your notebook and a pen. You flipped to the first blank page and scribbled today’s date next to the right-hand margin. “What did I miss?”

Nora shook her head as if to say, nothing. “She just gave back last week’s homework. I grabbed yours, too.” She handed you a sheet of paper with a bright red A+ on top. “I figured if something had happened to you, you could be buried with your most recent perfect paper.”

She winked, and you rolled your eyes to mask your burgeoning pride.

Truthfully, you’d worked hard on the assignment. You might have already been accepted to graduate school, but NYU’s prestige didn’t come without a hefty price tag, and you still needed to apply for scholarships in order to afford it.

Now was not the time to slack.

You tried to pay attention to the lecture, but your mind constantly drifted to the way Eddie had behaved in his room, having a meltdown like an overtired toddler. The man who had lost his temper over a television channel was starkly different from the one who had readily swapped playful jabs with you the night prior.

Maybe whatever buzz he’d managed to acquire before you’d interrupted him had made him uncharacteristically pleasant, and today’s outburst was indicative of his true self.

You bit the inside of your cheek and willed yourself to focus on the case study being presented on the board rather than your own personal Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the mystery that was Eddie Munson. Guests had had their choice words with you before—there was a reason why you had pepper spray at the ready—but this felt different. When most guests screamed like he had, they were specifically angry at you; it was the reaction you had expected when you’d told Eddie that he couldn’t smoke pot in the motel. Others simply were not in their right minds and didn’t realize that they were shouting at a random woman and not their mom or childhood bully or the monster under the bed.

Eddie differed from both categories in that he’d recognized his mistake. That he was frustrated at the situation, not at you. That he had started an apology that he might have finished If you had stuck around.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he would have continued yelling, face growing red with rage. Maybe he would have stopped his tantrum but stormed out to the bar without a second thought.

You looked down at your notebook page, still blank except for the date.

Maybe you should stop playing this game of what-ifs and actually listen to the lecture.

After your professor handed out the rubric for the final paper and dismissed the class, you and Nora made a beeline for the food cart outside the building. Dining hall food was too expensive and bland; besides, Niko knew both of your orders by heart.

He greeted you with a chipper smile as soon as you approached the cart. Bacon sizzled in its own fat, drowned out only by the sound of the chopper scraping against stainless steel as Niko scrambled the eggs.

“Better enjoy this nice weather while it lasts,” he said, fuzzy gray brows pinching together. He grabbed two styrofoam cups from a stack and filled them with coffee. “Temperature’s s’posed to skyrocket this summer.”

You grimaced, pulling a few bills from your backpack’s front pouch. “If food service doesn’t work out for you, Niko, you should look into meteorology.”

He brushed off your sarcasm and adjusted his apron over his protruding belly. He added cream and sugar to the coffees and slid them towards you. “Been doin’ this a long time,” he said, gesturing to the food cart set-up. He took your four singles and handed you back two quarters, doing the same for Nora. “Longer than you two’ve been alive. And some things never change: you kids always have somethin’ smart to say.”

Your mouth watered as he toasted the rolls and added a slice of American cheese to yours before combining the ingredients into hearty sandwiches. He carefully wrapped them in tinfoil and handed them over.

You smiled, uncovered the sandwich, and took a hearty bite. Melty cheese oozed out from the roll and clung to your lip, and you collected it with the tip of your tongue. “At least we’re consistent,” you teased, waving goodbye as you and Nora walked to the bus stop.

“What went down at the motel today?” Nora asked, chewing her food as she spoke. “I mean, I’ve seen you get to class early during a blizzard,” she added with a knowing grin.

You remembered that day, February winds whipping around you and cutting through your layers of clothes like a knife. The snow stung your nose and cheeks and made it nearly impossible to see three feet ahead of you, but you’d made it to class before the professor had even arrived.

“Nothing really,” you tried to say nonchalantly, taking another bite of sandwich to keep your mouth busy. You don’t want to think about the way Eddie had raised his voice at you this afternoon; more specifically, the shame that tugged at you for being disappointed. You’d had one decent interaction with him and you’d foolishly assumed some kind of mutual respect had been built, but it all boiled down to the basics: he was a guest at the motel who would be checking out on Friday, and then you’d never see him again.

Nora wrinkled her nose, not quite believing you, but any further interrogation was interrupted by the bus squeaking to a stop. You dropped the five quarters into the tray before squeezing your way through the aisle.

“Just…” Nora dropped her voice to avoid drawing the ire of your fellow commuters, grabbing onto a pole to steady herself, “you didn’t need to break out the pepper spray or anything, right?”

You gave her a grateful smile. “Nothing like that. I promise.”

“Good.” She reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze, careful not to brush up against anyone else. “Because I need my study buddy in one piece.”

“I’m fi—” The bus lurched forward suddenly, the driver slamming on the brakes just as the yellow light turned red. You tightened your grip on the pole and planted your feet into the floor to keep your balance until coming to a complete stop. The other passengers grumbled and groaned as they shifted, leaving trails of mumbled sorry’s in their wake.

The Metropolitan Transit Authority would likely cause your demise well before any motel guest could get to you.

It was barely after six PM when you got back to the motel. The sun began to creep down from its pedestal into purpling clouds and teased dusk’s beginning. Horns honked as rush hour traffic dragged along the expressway as though their cacophony would make the other cars evaporate into thin air.

You had about four hours before your shift started; it was just enough time to work on the paper, take a quick nap, and boil water in your electric kettle to make some Cup Noodles.

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Eddie leaning against the wall, a cigarette burning between his pointer and middle finger. It was freshly lit, but he still extinguished it under his foot before stepping closer to you. His brown eyes flickered from the ground to your face and back down again.

“Hi.” Short but polite, your customer-service smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. You could see Mom through the glass door, leafing through paperwork that was almost certainly a stack of past-due bills.

Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing one Reeboked heel against the pavement. “I went to that bar you told me about.” He said it all in one breath as though he expected you to take off running.

“Oh.” One corner of your mouth quirked up in a hesitant half-smile. “Did you, um, did you get to watch your show?”

He nodded, a forlorn look clouding his eyes. His right incisor dug into his lower lip. “Yeah. Thanks.” He paused, and you started for the door once again before he spoke up. “Sorry, I—you said you had a class today?” he asked, clumsily tripping over his words.

There was no sense in lying; not with your backpack hooked over your shoulders. “Mhm.”

“Were you…” His tongue swiped nervously over his lips. “Did I make you late?”

You shook your head. “I got a dollar cab.” Not quite a lie, just omitting the truth. At this point, you were willing to let him smoke weed again if it’d result in easy conversation.

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, head tilted slightly as he assessed your response. He seemingly accepted it at face value, exhaling a quiet, “that’s good,” and fumbling in his pocket for another cigarette.

You took that as your cue to leave and ducked into the lobby to greet your mom with a quick wave. She returned it with a weary smile, eyes creased at the corners. The soft lines etched into her forehead had deepened over the past few months. The Reagan-Bush trickle-down economy era might have come to an end, but its remnants still affected small businesses and the even smaller people running them.

“How was class?”

“Good.”

The usual exchange, no real information revealed. The mother-daughter song-and-dance performance of the ages. As long as neither of you disrupted the routine, the music played on.

Ten PM rolled around too quickly, and you plodded into the lobby with a stomach full of sodium-drenched noodles and your tote bag full of books. A street light flickered outside, more off than on, illuminating the sidewalk in a hazy glow every so often.

Mom handed over the register keys and placed a kiss on your cheek before she left to go to bed in the room she shared with Dad. Nighttime was the only time they got to be together uninterrupted, and it was spent sleeping.

That wasn’t what you wanted. When–if–you found somebody to share your life with, you wanted to have conversations with topics besides financial upkeep. You wanted to talk about meaningless topics and make each other laugh. You wanted to lay with your head on their lap, gazing into their eyes and revering in the beautiful silence. Nothing forced or planned. Just being.

You positioned yourself behind the desk, spreading your supplies in front of you. You’d managed to draft the opening paragraph for your essay before sleepiness overtook you and you’d had to nap, and your goal tonight was to revise it to perfection. The upcoming weekend would be spent at the public library, nose deeply buried in every psychology book they owned while you outlined the body.

Red pen marked up your page, commas added and removed three times over. Arrows shifted sentence order, while some sentences were altogether crossed out with heavy lines.

It was perfect. It was all wrong. You loved it. You hated it.

Maybe I should scrap it altogether and start over.

Your palm pressed to the notebook page, ready to tear it out and crumple it into a ball with jagged edges that would dig into your skin.

“Hey.”

In your intense focus, you hadn’t even heard anyone walk in. A rookie mistake; somebody could have snuck up on you and you’d be none the wiser.

Eddie stood there, a folded one-dollar peering out from between his thumb and forefinger. He shuffled to the desk and held out the money, his eyes offering a silent apology.

“I owe you for the, uh, cab,” he mumbled, lips forming a tight, nervous smile. “And don’t argue with me. I know my bullshit made you late, so…” He flitted his free hand as if dismissing potential concern.

You clicked your tongue in mock disapproval. “You’re not from New York City, are you?”

Eddie shook his head with a laugh, fingers scratching at a stubbled patch along his cheek. “How’d ya know?”

“A New York man knows better than to tell a New York woman not to argue with him,” you teased, capping your pen. “Also, you tried starting a conversation with me earlier, and any New Yorker knows that’s a cardinal sin.”

“Having a conversation?”

“Making small talk with a stranger.”

His nose crinkled in adorable bewilderment as though the thought never occurred to him. “We’re not strangers. We met last night.”

The innocence of his remark drew a genuine laugh out of you. “I see the same people on the bus every day,” you told him, “and they’re still strangers. Being more than mildly aware of someone's existence doesn’t mean I know them.”

“Fair point,” Eddie conceded, leaning in slightly, “but I’d argue that we know each other’s names, so we’re not total strangers.”

Humming your acknowledgment–but not necessarily agreement–you plucked the dollar from his grasp and tucked it into your back pocket. “I’ll put this towards your bill.”

“Oh, yeah. About that.” Eddie cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are there any pawn shops around here that’ll buy a guitar?”

“No, sorry.” There had been one down the street but it had already been shuttered for a few years. Guests would go there all the time to hock whatever they could to pay for another night at the motel.

He let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Shit. Okay.” The playfulness behind his eyes faded. “Um, thanks anyway.”

He turned away from the desk, shoulders slumped. You knew that look all too well; it was the stance of someone who just needed life to cut them a break.

“Eddie?”

He swiveled back around, his curls a half-second behind. “Yeah?”

“Do you know how to re-wallpaper a room?”

“Huh?” Your question caught him by surprise, and he took a moment to collect himself. “I mean, yeah, kind of. I did it for my uncle’s trailer once. But I’m not, like, a professional.”

You smiled. “No professional experience necessary.” You gestured to the various spots on the wall where the paper was cracked and peeled. “If you can make this look presentable, you can stay a few more days. Free of charge.”

His expression immediately darkened, eyes narrowing and crossed arms closing off his body. “I don’t need charity,” he asserted through a tensed jaw.

“It’s not charity; it’s a favor.” The harsh reaction caught you off-guard, but you refused to let him unsettle you again. “Look around: do you really think we can afford to hire someone to install new wallpaper?”

You didn’t bother to wait for his response before continuing. “We need to fix this place up, and you need a roof over your head.” Shrugging casually, you held onto the hope that he would also view this as a mutually beneficial offer and not a pity handout.

Eddie just scoffed, a rejection in itself, compounded with a growling reprise: “I said, I don’t need charity.”

Spikes jutted out from his words and pinched your skin, each one a reminder of your uncanny ability to worsen every problem you tried to solve.

Offering a job to someone you barely knew? He gave you a buck to pay for the cab you only had to take because of him—not exactly the best character statement. The man could be a serial killer who preys on low-budget motel owners and you’d be none the wiser, signing his checks like you weren’t his next victim.

Maybe next week, you could hire Ted Bundy to change bed linens.

“Understood.”

He looked at you so intensely his pupils should have bored a hole right through you. Behind his eyes wasn’t an ounce of hate or even anger.

It was raw shame.

I’m sorry got caught in your throat and didn’t reach your tongue until he had disappeared back down the hall, out of sight.

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @chrissymjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @reidsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @bewitchedmunson @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

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

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hannieehaee · 8 months ago

Note

hiii could you do an au where svt reacts to their partner doing the don't go insane by dpr ian belt dance challenge haha love your posts ♡!

their partner doing the don't go insane by dpr ian belt dance challenge

content: smut, mentions of bondage and choking, mentions of sex, etc.

wc: 919

a/n: thank u so much anon<33 hope u enjoy!

masterlist

seungcheol -

he didn't see it coming, though he should have. you'd already be halfway through the dance by the time he realized what was going on, becoming a mixture of flustered and annoyed at you doing something you knew would get him to blush and look away. despite his initial flustered state, he'd drag you to the bedroom after, now taking off his own belt to tie you up with.

jeonghan -

at first he'd be shocked but he'd quickly recover and just smirk at you throughout the duration of the dance. would lean back and manspread, simply enjoying the show. oh? you learned a whole little choreography to try and seduce him? it'd give him a huge ego boost, motioning at you to come to him when you were finished.

joshua -

also super cocky about it lol. this probably wouldnt be the first time either of you tried to seduce the other, so he wouldng be too shocked at the sight. he'd still be unable to prevent the obvious hard on invading his pants, even becoming shameless about it and getting you to come sit on his lap after you finished, giving you a teasing kiss and telling you you had to take care of the problem you caused.

jun -

he's always done similarly sexy and provocative dances for his solo songs (and also just svt in general), so he was quite used to seeing such dances. but not from you. so when he realized what dance you were doing, he'd have half the mind to stop you, knowing that he ran a great risk of getting uncomfortably hard at the sight.

soonyoung -

he'll either hype you up or sit there staring up at you dumbly. if managed to not become hypnotized by the sight of you doing that dance, he'd hype you up and try to copy the dance right after you were done (and would do it perfectly on the first try bc he's knwon soonyoung)

wonwoo -

completely frozen at the sight. it's not that he wasn't enjoying it, he just wasnt sure how to react at first. but then he'd spot the smirk on your face, which would trigger a mean side of him that would only come out on special occasions. he'd have half the mind to interrupt your dance and bend you over, but would wait to see the entire thing, maybe even asking you to do it again and again, refusing to fuck you until he was satisfied with your show.

jihoon -

he knew you were some sort of detriment to his health (you affected him far more than he ever liked to admit), but he never thought you'd take his breath away so easily. one thing was to do a sexy dance or try to seduce him in one way or another, but it was a whole other thing to wrap yourself in a belt and give him 'fuck me' eyes while doing so. this 🤏 close to cumming in his pants.

seokmin -

when you told him you wanted to show him some new tiktok dance you learned, he assumed you meant a cute little twice choreo or something like that, not a dance that involved picturing what it'd be like to tie you up. this would quite literally ruin his life, as he would now think about choking you and tying you up on a daily basis.

mingyu -

if you wanted to play around with a belt and have yourself be tied up, you could've just asked. he wouldve been willing to deliver. but no, you had to go and do this whole dance that had mingyu salivating at the sight of you, knowing he couldnt touch you until you were finished. would pick you up and throw you on the nearest bed immediately after, taking the belt with him for research purposes.

minghao -

as the resident tiktok challenge doer, he knew of the dance. he had considered doing it but thought it'd cause too much or a ruckus online if he did. so he absolutely wasn't expecting you to suddenly start doing it in front of him. im 100% convinced minghao is into bondage (i have no evidence but also no doubts), so he'd really enjoy the sight of the belt wrapping around your neck and wrists.

seungkwan -

another member who thought you'd be more into cute dances, not whatever the hell this was (but please keep doing it, he'd think) his eyes would widen so much theyd take up half his face as they tried to avoid your own seductive ones. would become so shy and sheepish at you, mumbling compliments to you afterwards but still avoiding eye contact to not reveal his red cheeks.

vernon -

oh, nice, a tiktok challenge. wait. oh. oh. what were you doing with that belt- oh! you'd catch him completely off guard the moment you wrapped the belt around your neck, making him sit up straight and pay full attention. he'd get hard without meaning too, being fully out of breath when you finished your dance.

chan -

laughs in shock. just does not know how to react. it was a bit hypocritical of him, really. seeing as he's constantly doing dances that are quite sensual in nature. but this was different. you had caught him completely off guard, knowing he'd become a complete mess at the sight! you were playing dirty! would still beg you to let him hit afterwards.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagine #svt #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #svt oneshot #seventeen reactions #svt reactions

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shockercoco · 10 months ago

Text

There We Go

Farleigh Start x reader

Warnings - 18+, fingering, overstimulation, drinking, farleigh being dominant when we all know he's not

Word count - 2366

a/n - this is my first time writing smut I wanted to give it a try, and it was hard for me idk how y'all do this lol. enjoy :)

Last night, you had your hands in between your legs scrolling through videos trying to find the perfect one, while Farleigh was outside smoking with Felix. You and Farleigh have never had intimacy problems, it’s just you having a hard time asking for or initiating the intimacy – even Farleigh has told you several times before that he’s always willing. You hadn’t gotten too far in your journey when you started hearing those familiar footsteps outside the bedroom door getting closer. You hurriedly took your hand out of your pajama shorts, switched apps, and readjusted yourself like you had been lying like that the whole time. Farleigh opens and closes the bedroom door, kicks off his slippers, and crawls under the covers next to you.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks as he lays his head on your stomach and you just hum in response.

So now here you were sitting in a pool chair underneath the hot Summer sun watching Farleigh, Venetia, and Felix messing around in the pool, and you can’t seem to control your thoughts – mainly because you never got to finish last night. You throw your sunglasses on and try to distract yourself with the book in your hands and hope you weren’t making yourself obvious to him, even though you could care less what Jane Austen has to say at the moment. You take a peak over the edge of your book and notice Venetia is talking to Felix, Felix is leaning against the edge of the pool with his head towards the sky not seeming to be really listening, and Farleigh is now swimming towards you.

You cross your ankles as if he could sense or see the arousal growing between your legs while he pulls himself out of the pool leaving the bottom of his legs to dangle in the water. Water drips off of him onto the concrete surrounding the pool and also forms into droplets on his chest and arms. Your sunglasses are pretty dark so you’re pretty sure he can’t see you checking him out.

“Are you okay over here?” Farleigh finally looks at you with his own sunglasses covering his eyes, and places a hand on your ankle. He always randomly does this, but at the moment you’re not a fan. You clear your throat before answering.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you ask looking up from your book as if you had been reading it the whole time.

“Just asking since you normally start complaining about it being too hot if you’re outside too long,” he jokes with a shrug of his shoulders. “As if we’re not all hot.” He now starts caressing your ankle, which any other time you would love it, but now all you want to do is push his hand off.

“Excuse you, you complain more than me. Plus it’s not too bad right now, as long as we get to go inside soon,” you say, looking back down at your book and start pretending you're reading again. You hear him let out a laugh.

“We’re going out into town for drinks later, do you want to come?”

“You guys are driving all the way out there just to drink?” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“That’s what they suggested,” he tells you, referring to the two siblings still floating in the pool. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

“That’s the book I told you about, how is it?” he asks, still rubbing your ankle.

“It’s pretty good,” you answer not knowing what else to say and wishing the conversation would just be over.

“Where are you at in it?”

Oh my god.

You skim through a paragraph on the page and quickly paraphrase it for him. He gives you a look with a smirk on his lips, but with his eyes also covered in dark tint you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Or maybe he’s not thinking anything and you’re just overthinking. Once he eventually leaves you alone and goes back to swimming with Felix and Venetia, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Later that night when you all are at the pub, including Oliver who decided to come at the last minute, you’re no longer feeling like your head is going to explode. Well, you do, but that’s just because of how packed it is inside the pub. Everyone in the bar has to raise their voice to communicate with one another, but no one seems to care. The group is several drinks in and are talking about the most pointless things, especially Venetia who is asking Oliver what color she should dye her already fried hair next, but you’re still enjoying yourself. Not Felix though, since he declared himself the designated driver because he doesn’t trust anyone else driving his truck. You’ve only had a couple drinks since you were never a huge fan of drinking to the point of getting drunk.

Farleigh, on the other hand, is on his way there along with the rest of them, and is constant with his nagging towards Oliver. You nudge him every now and then as a warning and he gives you an innocent look every time. Thankfully Oliver doesn’t seem to mind – or doesn’t make it obvious – that he cares about what Farleigh has to say.

When everyone has decided they’ve had enough, you guys make the drive back and blast music loud enough to sober up an alcoholic. Felix, Farleigh, and Oliver don’t seem to have any problem screaming their lungs out to it. Venetia complains about the music being too loud, probably because the music is ruining her buzz, and you just shake your head in amusement.

Once you guys arrive back at the estate, and do a terrible job sneaking into the house, everyone goes their separate ways. Felix helps Venetia to her room, Oliver stumbles to his, and you and Farleigh make your way to your shared bedroom. You tell Farleigh you’re going to take a bath to which he asks to join, and you decline. He whines in response and plops down on the bed as you head into the bathroom with a laugh to start running the bath water.

After undressing and climbing into the tub, you lean back and close your eyes until you hear familiar footsteps enter the bathroom. You open your eyes and turn your head to see Farleigh starting to undress himself. Someone’s obviously sobering up.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” you sit up, obviously knowing the answer.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he responds.

“I thought I told you no,” you tell him as he gets down to his underwear and shimmies them off.

“Yeah, but this way we’re saving water,” he smiles like it’s the best idea he’s ever had, even though he uses this trick every time, and for some reason you fall for it everytime. Plus it’s obvious the Cattons would never worry about something like water.

Farleigh makes his way over to the tub, all the while you’re trying to avoid eye contact with his slightly hard length causing him to smirk. You roll your eyes at him as you make room for him, and he climbs in behind you making the water level slightly rise. Once he’s comfortable, you lean your back against his chest, and he loosely wraps his hands around your waist.

His fingertips tickle your lower stomach, reawakening that familiar ache you had earlier at the pool and last night that you didn’t finish satisfying. You hope he doesn’t notice your breath catching in your throat. Feeling him against your back doesn’t help much either.

“See, this isn’t so bad,” you hear him say in that playful tone of his. You elbow him in his stomach, and you hear him let out a small grunt. “Hey, did you notice Venetia flirting with Oliver the whole time tonight?”

“It was kind of hard not too, I feel like she gets hornier when she’s drunk,” you say as you start to gently move one of your feet around in the water.

“Well, duh, doesn’t everyone? I’m just surprised she did that in front of Felix,” he laughs and starts to lightly rub your lower stomach..

“Speaking of Oliver, wh-,” you start, but Farleigh cuts you off.

“We’re not.”

“Speaking of Oliver,” you try again, “why do you give him such a hard time?”

“Because he’s weird.”

“You’re weird, Farleigh,” you angle your body and turn your head back to look up at him. He gives your side a little pinch making you jump and let out a giggle.

“You know what I mean. Don’t tell me you’re growing a soft spot for him just because of those big blue eyes,” Farleigh lets out a scoff.

“No, I’m just saying to ease up on him a bit. You can be a little mean sometimes.”

“Well, I don’t trust him,” he shrugs.

“Farleigh-.”

“Can we talk about something else,” he cuts you off once again letting out a dramatic groan and throwing his head back.

“Of course. When we’re done with this conversation though,” you give him a forced smile. He looks down at you and gives you a little glare. “Just say you’ll be nicer, and we’ll be done.”

All of a sudden you feel the hand that was grazing your lower stomach dip lower, and you feel a finger start to lightly rub up and down your slit causing you to tense. You widen your eyes once you realize what he’s doing, your jaw falling slightly open.

“Are you trying to shut me up?” you furrow your eyebrows at him, and he gives you a smirk. “The audacity.”

“Whatever helps.”

“Farleigh, I’m serio-,” you try to get out, but he starts to rub circles into clit. You hold back a moan that threatens to spill out from the sudden touch, refusing to let him win, even if this is how you wanted your night to end in the long run.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Farleigh-,” you try again, but this time he dips a finger in you causing you to let out a gasp at the intrusion, your eyes closing on instinct.

“Hmm?”

You reach a hand down to wrap around his wrist as he curls his finger and starts to slowly pump in and out, but he uses his other hand to take it away and hold it. He adds another finger, still going the same deliberate pace along your walls on purpose to tease you. You bite your lip enjoying the stretch that his fingers bring, but still wanting to hold the noises in your throat back. Farleigh notices this and pushes his long fingers deeper into you, and then uses the hand holding yours to wrap around your waist holding you close to him.

“If you want me to go faster, all you have to do is let some of those little noises come out for me,” he leans down and whispers into your ear. You love it when he does that, and he knows that, but you still didn’t want to break. “You know I saw you staring me down at the pool earlier.”

You knew it.

You feel his breath on your neck before he starts his trail of kisses making you clench your teeth. You make the mistake of looking down at his hand between your legs right as he finds his favorite spot on your neck, forcing a moan to accidentally slip out. You feel a smile form on his lips while they still attack your neck, and at the moment there’s a part of you that wants to strangle him, but you just give in to him.

“There we go,” he murmurs, and you finally feel his fingers speed up inside of you, causing your face to contort and lean your head back against his chest. He lets go of your waist using that hand to start rubbing your clit again, but this time rougher. This causes you to arch your back into him. If your body wasn’t submerged underwater, you guarantee you both would be able to hear your wetness with every movement.

Eventually, you feel your pleasure come to a powerful end, and Farleigh helps you ride it out as long as possible. You roll your hips into his hand until you’ve had enough, and just when you're about to motion for him to stop, Farleigh picks up a rapid pace forcing the water to start sloshing around. Your eyes widen and you let out a small squeal as you reach both of your hands for his wrist.

“Let go,” he says strongly.

“Farleigh,” you whimper, and it’s all you’re able to get out.

“Let go,” he says again, and this time you do. Instead you put one hand on his thigh and the other on the edge of the tub.

He continues his vigorous torture inside your cunt with you squirming and litterally gasping for air until you can both feel yourself gushing. But, of course he doesn’t stop there, not letting a beat pass. You bring your legs up to your chest with his hand still between, and he pushes them both back down. You let out a cry as he puts his legs over yours pinning your body to the bottom of the tub. It doesn’t take long for your third orgasm to come with a wail, and this time Farleigh stops.

Your heavy panting bounces off the bathroom walls as you finally have a chance to collect yourself, and Farleigh just chuckles from behind you. He slowly slides his fingers out and out of the water, but not before giving your clit a light tap, making you practically jump out of your skin.

“How are you doing down there?” he asks, as he wraps his arms around your waist. You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuine with your eyes closed, but at the moment you don’t care.

“Honestly, Farleigh, just stop talking,” you tell him, and he lets out a loud laugh that makes your body move against his chest.

#farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #farleigh start #farleigh smut #farleigh catton #saltburn #saltburn imagine

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sissylittlefeather · 4 months ago

Text

I'm sorry this took me a million years to write @sloppiest-of-jos! Anyway, I hope it lives up to what you were wanting!

Searching for You

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and touch of angst

Word count: ~2.5k

"Elvis, you have a WIFE and a CHILD. Tell me again how you think this could possibly work out?!" Elvis sits in a chair, watching you pace around the room from behind his silver sunglasses.

"Honey, I've told you and told you. Those are my problems, not yours. I love you. I want you." He stands up and walks over to you, taking your hand gently and rubbing small circles on the back of it with his thumb. You look up at him and almost melt. Then, you yank your hand away and walk across the room.

"No! This has gone on for way too long." Memories of how you met on the set of the Singer special in '68 come screaming back to you. You think about him noticing you, a humble back up dancer for the bordello scene. He had walked straight to you and asked your name, not even bothering to pretend like he didn't like you. You'd seen him with the other girls and couldn't believe he was actually talking to you. But something about you caught his attention and he wasn't letting you get away. He invited you up to his dressing room after filming was finished and it didn't take long at all for you to end up naked on the couch, squirming as he brought you pleasure you had only ever dreamed about.

That was two years ago.

No matter how hard the two of you tried, you couldn't stay away from each other. The space between you was electric and you made ways to be together as often as possible, despite his marital status and your guilt. You fell hard and fast for him and he insisted he felt the same way, but he never entertained the possibility of ending his marriage.

On this particular occasion, you pace the floor half-dressed insisting this will be the last time. You're leaving California, removing yourself from the equation, and he is not pleased. Once you pull on the rest of your clothes, you point your shoe at him and yell.

"I'm done, Elvis. I'm done with being your back up girl to keep you company when your wife is gone. It hurts too much."

"Honey, it's not like that! You're the one I want! If anything, she's the back up girl."

"Then why won't you leave her?"

"I-I I can't."

"Yeah." You stuff your shoes on your feet and head for the door. "Goodbye, Elvis."

This isn't the first time you've had this argument, by far, but what Elvis doesn't know is that this time you're really leaving. You pack up all your things with tears streaming down your cheeks and head for home. The drive is long, but you've hit the end of your capacity for loving Elvis like this. You wonder how long it'll take him to figure out you're gone. Will he even care?

******

Elvis gives you two weeks to get over this most recent fight, sure that all he has to do is call you when Priscilla goes out of town. But when he does, your phone's been cut off. He hangs up and looks at the receiver in confusion. Surely you didn't actually leave.

He gets in his car and drives to your apartment. Maybe you've just changed your number and he needs to appeal to you in person. But when he knocks on your door, a man he doesn't recognize answers. He gets over his initial wave of jealousy and asks about you.

"Uh, I'm looking for y/n?"

"No one here by that name. Wait are you-?"

"Thanks." Elvis turns and walks quickly back to his car before the guy can ask him for anything.

When he gets back to his house, he calls all of his Memphis mafia into the living room and gives them an assignment. They need to find you and he wants it done yesterday. The guys all look at each other in mild panic and then head out to see what they can do while Elvis sits on the couch smoking a cigarillo trying to process his shock. You're really gone. Where on earth did you go?

******

After a week of Elvis wracking his brain and the guys bribing neighbors and friends, Sonny finally has a breakthrough.

"I was able to get ahold of her best friend at work."

"Yeah, and?"

"She went home to Kentucky."

"Home to Kentucky. Where in Kentucky?"

"She didn't know, but she said she knew it wasn't far from Nashville." Elvis rolls his eyes.

"What the hell does that even mean?! There are a lot of places in Kentucky that aren't far from Nashville. How does she define far?" Sonny looks at the ground and shakes his head.

"I don't know, boss. That's all she knew."

"Goddamnit." Elvis kicks the nearest table and Sonny looks at him hard.

"Might be time to give up on this one." Elvis meets his eyes with his eyebrows raised and then shakes his head.

"No. She's... no." He turns and heads for his bedroom. When he comes back with a suitcase, Sonny tries to stop him.

"Where you goin'?"

"Well, I guess I'm going somewhere in Kentucky that's not far from Nashville."

"You're really gonna go after her then?"

"Yes." Elvis gets in his car and starts on the road East towards Kentucky and you.

******

When Elvis finally makes it to Kentucky, he drives from small town to small town looking for you. He has a picture of you that he took one night that he shows to people. He has lots of pictures of you, but this is the only one appropriate for public consumption. He thanks God that he thought to take one with your clothes on one time. Honestly, it's his favorite photo of you because it's so naturally beautiful, your smile gentle and your hair a little messy from lovemaking.

The more he looks for you, the more it becomes apparent how much he loves you. He's been saying it for a while, but the emptiness he experiences at not knowing how to find you makes him know exactly how true it is. He loves you so much that he's driving around Kentucky just to find you again. How did he think he could give you up?

He's starting to lose hope when he comes across a preacher in a small town called Franklin. Exhausted and hopeless, he shows him the picture of you.

"That's y/n!"

"Yes!" Elvis looks up, shocked. "Do you know her?"

"Of course I do. I baptized her, didn't I?" Elvis laughs and hugs the man.

"Is she here? Where can I find her?"

"I haven't seen her in a long time, but if she's in town, she'll be at her parents' house." He gives Elvis the address just as it begins to rain. For the first time in weeks, Elvis is filled with hope and he decides he'll do anything to get you back.

He pulls up in front of the address that the preacher gave him and his heart beats wildly. He's so close to being with you again. The steady rain soaks him to the bone and he knocks on your front door and waits for someone to open it.

You see him through the windows and panic. How the hell did he find you here?! You know you won't be able to resist him if he talks to you, so you run outside and jump in your car, backing out of the driveway quickly.

But he sees you and tries to run to the car.

"Honey, wait! I just wanna talk to ya!" You focus on the road ahead and step on the gas to get away. Elvis runs back to his car and jumps into the driver's seat, starting the engine and throwing it in drive. He tries to catch up to you, but you're driving like a crazy person. The rain is still coming down pretty hard and he starts to worry about you driving like this. As you head out of town, your car spins off the road into a ditch and he realizes he was right to be concerned. Thankfully, because of the spinning, you don't hit the ditch too hard. He parks and jumps out of the car to run to you. You manage to get the door open and stumble out.

That's when you feel strong arms around you. The familiarity of them makes you cry and you shake with sobs as he holds you. He stands there in the soft rain, stroking your hair and whispering to you.

"You're okay, honey. I've got you. You're okay." After several minutes of this, you pull away from him and yell.

"What are you doing here Elvis?!"

"I needed to see you."

"Why?!" He pushes a piece of rain-soaked hair behind your ear.

"Because I love you, baby." You look up at him, your eyes wide as the rain continues to fall on you both.

"No! I'm not falling into this with you again!"

"Honey, I drove across the country to find you. Is that not enough to prove that I'm serious?!"

"Where's your wife, Elvis?" He groans and pulls his wedding ring off of his finger.

"I don't care." He turns and throws the ring into the patch of trees and you gasp.

"Elvis, that was worth a lot of money!"

"Maybe, but I don't want it anymore. I don't want her anymore. I want you, ya stubborn brat."

"Why?" He rolls his eyes. His patience is wearing thin as the two of you stand in the cold rain together.

"Because I'm so in love with you I can't even think straight when you're not around."

"I don't believe you."

"Y/n! Do you know how many small towns I've been to in Kentucky looking for you?! I love you so much I can't even imagine my life without you." You contemplate what he's saying. This is a long road to travel for casual sex. Maybe he does love you as much as he says he does, but there's still too many complications.

"How, Elvis-?"

"I'm leaving Priscilla." Your heart stops. Is he serious? "I can't live another minute without you. You're all I think about from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to sleep. Honey, I will do anything to prove to you that I want you and no one else."

You look up at him, your heart so full of love for him that you feel like it might burst.

"You'd really do that? Leave your wife and the mother of your child. For me?"

"Yes. I should never have married her in the first place."

"Elvis..."

"All my life I've been searching for you. I just didn't know it. I should've waited. But I'm here now and I'm telling you. I love you more than life itself. Let me love you, honey."

And then you utter two syllables that will change your life forever.

"Okay." In the blink of an eye, he wraps himself around you, his mouth pressed to yours in a passionate kiss. He grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you so that your legs are around his waist, his lips never leaving yours. The rain has softened, so he carries you to the hood of his car and sets your bottom down. You've never kissed anyone with such fervor before. It's like you're trying to melt into one another with the way you press yourselves together. You arch your back as he rolls his hips forward into you, his erection pushing against you through his pants. He runs his hands up your thighs and pulls your panties down under your mini skirt. His thumb runs up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top and he begins to rub circles there. You drop your head backwards and moan loudly. Without another thought, you unzip his pants and pull his cock out, stroking it slowly with your hand. He groans and kisses down your neck, while you pull him to you and run the tip of his dick up and down your entrance. He mutters against your lips.

"You're such a tease, honey."

"Yeah, but you love me."

"God, I really do. So fucking much." He thrusts his hips forward and pushes into you, almost filling you in one motion. You cry out with pleasure when he does and lean back against the car. He pulls out and thrusts forward again, grunting. This time his hips meet yours as his entire cock is inside you. He makes a sound that's somewhere between a whimper and a moan and begins to slide in and out of you, pounding you to the steady rhythm of the rain.

The sensation of him slamming against you is enough to push you over the edge and you tumble headfirst into an intense orgasm, moaning and writhing and pulsing around him.

"Fuck, honey, I love you." You pull him down on top of you and whisper in his ear.

"I love you too." It's the first time you've ever said it back to him. He whimpers and kisses down your neck to your cleavage, never changing his steady pace of pumping into you. You can tell by the way his thrusting becomes more erratic that he's getting close too.

Finally, he slams into you hard and shudders against you, filling you with ropes of cum. It's also the first time he's ever cum inside you: another indicator that he's serious about you.

The rain has slowed to a drizzle as he collapses on top of you, spent and breathing heavily. He slides out of you and stands up, pulling you into a sitting position on the hood of his car.

"Come home with me, honey." He kisses your cheek affectionately and then backs up to look you in the eye, his blues ones seeing straight through to your soul. You couldn't tell him no even if you wanted to.

"I gave up my apartment."

"I want you to live with me." You raise your eyebrows.

"You still have a wife."

"I won't for long. I'll buy us a house. Just please say you'll come home with me." You nod and lean your forehead against his chest.

"I'm yours, Elvis." He tips your chin up to look at him.

"And I'm yours." He kisses your lips tenderly. "Now come on. Let's get out of the rain."

He drives you back to your parents' house, where you both change into dry clothes and settle on the couch together. Surprisingly, he's perfectly comfortable there with your mom and dad. He stays for a few days with you, letting you give him the grand tour of your hometown. Eventually, you head back to California together. Your car is totaled, so he promises to buy you a new one once you get home.

He wastes no time in leaving Priscilla and starting divorce proceedings. In the meantime, he buys the two of you a cozy little love nest and you're perfectly happy there with him.

The Kentucky rain was a baptism of sorts and you both came out of it changed for the better. It's not always smooth sailing, he is Elvis Presley after all, but you're happy more often than not. You never run away again, though you know he'd chase you if you did. And every time it rains, he holds you close and you remember the cold Kentucky rain.

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you

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gyusimp · 4 months ago

Note

Can you please write a kenji sato x best friend . Where he is outgoing/ extroverted and the reader is introverted and totally opposite . Like he fell first but she fell harder troupe. Thank youx

°•𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 [[ᴷᵉⁿʲⁱ ᔆᵃᵗᵒ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᵒⁿᵉ⁻ˢʰᵒᵗ]

3.5k words | No warnings | SFW | Fluff | I have no idea what timeline I wrote this in lol just enjoy it 💖😅

"I finally have an answer to your question" Kenji confessed, smiling as he rested on your bed.

"So, do you know what you're going to give me for my birthday?" You had been joking with that for months.

Remembering over and over again the proximity of your birthday while he avoided the question on purpose or simply answered you “my sincere friendship” as a joke. Today he was visiting your house and you both agreed to meet in person to talk in a more pleasant way while you updated him on your things and he updated you.

"Just close your eyes" he told you, while you obeyed and he asked you to extend your hands to receive your gift.

"Wow, you're not even going to wait for the day to come" you commented smiling.

"Now. You can open them" he pointed at you and you did exactly that. You saw his cell phone in your hands and how it showed the website of a hotel with some numbers and its details written on the screen. It was a reservation for a month from now, right on the weekend of your birthday, to spend it alone at the beach, he knows how much you love it even though you haven't been there that many times, so he wanted to do something more special for you this time than just taking you to the movies or an expensive restaurant.

"I can't believe it Kenji! Are you serious?" You asked, to which he nodded, happy to see your reaction.

You were moved by his nice gesture so you hugged him and thanked him a thousand times while you talked to him excitedly, looking at the photos of the hotel on the beach, right by the sea. Kenji told you that he had even already talked to your parents about it so there was no problem with them, both of them knew Kenji since you became his best friend almost 6 years ago so they can trust him.

Kenji was happy to be able to make you smile like that. He would do anything necessary to always make you smile and let you know how much you mean to him. Things haven't been easy since he realized his feelings for you 2 years ago, keeping what he feels for fear of ruining everything you've built together has been exhausting and frustrating at times, but if keeping that to himself ensures that he can talk to you without any impediment or lose your trust then it was worth it. Sometimes it was still difficult not being able to tell you in a different tone of voice how pretty you look, hug you in a different way and kiss your face whenever he wanted, but it's something he's learned to handle. The following weeks you couldn't stop thinking about the trip, going shopping with him to try on clothes and such until the days were getting closer and now you found yourself doing a video call with him while you both packed your things to leave very early tomorrow.

The appreciation you had for Kenji was very special, both of you used to be different most of the time but maybe that made you complement each other better. You still remember when he was the one who took the initiative to talk to you at university when he saw that you didn't do it with anyone else, most of the time you spent reading, listening to music and avoiding people. You used to get along well with some classmates but it wasn't anything serious compared to him who knew a considerable amount of people on and off campus, he had several girls from different careers behind him and several fans who followed him even at the beginning of his sports career until the day he became a celebrity.

Despite being talkative and louder than the average of the people you usually talk to, there was something about him that you found pleasant and made you trust him, little by little feeling happier when you spent time by his side during breaks and then you started talking about him more often at home until you introduced him to your parents and the rest was history. The two of you were talking and joking on the video call, showing each other the things you packed and picking out your outfits. You loved that he had such a good fashion sense.

“Well, I think I’m done,” he said, taking out his phone.

“Wait, not me. I still don’t know where to put my makeup. Should I put it in the clothes or shoes suitcase?” you asked more to yourself.

"Don’t be exaggerated" he laughed "we’re leaving for a couple of days, not a month. Pack just a lipstick and mascara, i don't know"

"Obviously not, I’ll have to be touching up a lot because of the heat so I have to take everything. See! I almost forgot the sunscreen!"

" It doesn’t matter, I’ll bring one"

"Yes, but mine is tinted, like a foundation" you answered, making him laugh with the details you mentioned.

You talked for a while longer until you told him it was better to go to sleep. He would arrive early for you in his car. The next morning, you ended up falling asleep in the passenger seat while he was driving, your nerves didn’t let you rest well and he insisted that you sleep a little longer on the way when he saw you nod off a couple of times, when you woke up, you would meet at the beach. And so it was, in a couple of hours you were already on your way to the hotel and when you arrived it was more incredible than you imagined, the huge building full of windows and balconies was much bigger than it appeared in the photographs on the website. A lot of palm trees adorned the luxurious entrance of the place towards the reception as you both walked with your things to check in and get the key to your room. Anyone would think you were an excited young couple on their honeymoon.

You entered the room and took the bed you wanted since he let you choose, you placed your suitcases on the bed just like him and you changed your clothes in the bathroom to a cooler one. You called your parents to send them some photos and tell them that everything was fine.

"It's nice, isn't it? I didn't think this place was so big"

"Yes, it's incredible… thank you very much for the gift, it really is something very nice."He smiled when he heard your words and lightly shook the hair on your head.

"It’s nothing, anything for you… "

You two decide to leave the room and walk in and out of the hotel for the rest of the day. Everything is so nice and it’s nice to be able to spend time alone with him in a different way, Kenji can notice how happy you are and he loves the way he manages to make you smile. You are the person who has brought him the most happiness in this stage of his life and thinking about that makes his feelings for you only increase. Sometimes he wonders if he will ever be able to let you know, he is a self-confident person and maybe if the fear of losing you because you don’t reciprocate his feelings didn’t torment him so much, he would have already declared his love for you a long time ago.

After a day of walking around the place, he decides to take you to another part, more secluded from the hustle of the clubs near the docks and the tourism that fills the small place. You walk with him to a private part of the beach within the perimeter of the hotel where you decide to sit and talk, watching the waves and listening to their soft sound, feeling the cool breeze crash against your faces, illuminated by the moonlight and some torches serving as decoration of the hotel. The atmosphere was calm and relaxed, making both of you feel comfortable and confident next to each other.

"Thank you very much for everything Kenji…" He smiled, sweetly.

"I just wanted to do something different for you" You smiled in response, running your hands along your arms at the breeze on your skin. He got closer to you "Are you cold? Do you want me to go get your hooddie?" He asked, as attentive as always.

"No, don't worry, I'm fine. Our things are far away anyway" you thanked him, however, he found it convenient to put his arm around you to make you feel better.

"Well, then I'll have to take care of it myself" he joked as he hugged you, letting you cover yourself in his touch as you sat on the sand.

Silence was present for a few minutes, until your voice rang out again to speak to him. "You know, I also mean, thank you for everything…not just for my gift" you continued, in a soft voice, slightly embarrassed for saying such sentimental things "I've never had a friend so close or that I cared so much about before I met you…you know that it's hard for me to create bonds and such, normally I distance myself from people but, I never felt that need when I'm with you…" Your words made him smile, caressing your arm

"Thank you…I'm glad to know that. I'm also happy to be able to have you in my life. I've never had a best friend before either so it's nice that we complete each other so well…" What he said left you thinking and your chest jumped slightly without fully knowing the reason. You looked in detail at his arm around your shoulders and how close you both were, managing to make you nervous and feeling how your face burned, reminding you of all the times you thought how attractive your best friend is but forcing you to distract yourself with something else. "Yes… you understand me so well that sometimes I still can't believe it. I'm sorry if I say weird things, but you really make me very happy" you said smiling "a long time ago I felt bad and I thought a lot about things that worried me but every time I spend more time with you that anguish goes away…" "And what is it that worries you?" he asked, wanting to know more about you to be able to help you

"It's silly, but… I thought a lot about the consequences of my difficulty to be with people. Sometimes I imagined dying alone or things like that" you laughed embarrassed. Although you were referring more to a couple's company, Kenji had managed to calm the anxiety you had anyway, but you never thought about him seeing you as something more. He is quite affectionate with you, but something more direct would have had to happen for you to realize what he feels for you. "Come on, don't think about it. No matter how far away we are, busy or tired, I'll always be with you, okay? For whatever you need…" "Me too…" you told him, smiling. Kenji pulled you closer to him and both of you were in a soft hug that made your heartbeats and his accelerate.

The moment you let your face rest on his chest and felt yourself surrounded by his hands, an inexplicable warmth flooded your entire being, making you sigh and for some reason stirring up the feelings until you wanted to cry, but not from sadness. You knew that if you were with him everything would always be okay and you wanted to prolong that for as long as possible. Even your whole life, if there was any chance. “You mean so much to me,” he told you, in a low voice near your ear. “You do too, everything, actually.” You answered, putting a smile on his lips and butterflies in his stomach.

The conversation between the two of you changed to more random topics and some jokes between you. However, the way your eyes sparkled when you saw him was different, as if this tender and sincere moment had helped you realize what he truly makes you feel. As the night progressed, you both decided to return to your room, to say good night and rest. You went to bed, the sheets were really comfortable and the softness of the pillows and mattress was unique but despite that you couldn't manage to fall asleep even if you tried. You could feel the weight on your head of having unlocked millions of repressed feelings and thoughts freeing themselves inside you, not knowing what to do or how to act in this new situation. You were lying on the bed, you turned around to get comfortable and you saw him asleep, in the bed in front of you on the other side of the room.

The light was dim coming in through the window but enough for you to appreciate the features of his face perfectly. Did he always have the habit of sleeping without a shirt or did he do it on purpose? You were afraid that he could hear your thoughts as they were so loud inside your head. Eventually you fell asleep, thinking about him. The next day you felt strange, but not in an unpleasant way but as if you felt more nervous, always thinking, do I look pretty? looking at him from time to time with the excuse of seeing something about him, whether or not he had his sunglasses on or what color shirt he was wearing. When he caught you looking at him he smiled at you making you feel embarrassed, using the poor quality of your sunscreen as an excuse in case he happened to notice the blush on your cheeks more than once.

When you both spent some time in the pool it was much worse, you felt the need to see him but acting normal got in the way of your goals. You wanted to hug him and somehow be able to hold his hand so that everyone who saw you together would assume you were a couple. He is open-minded, would he see it as something strange if you dared to do it? Your heart jumped in doubt but again, you decided to let it go for fear of having a moment of embarrassment in front of him. The sunset was beginning to paint the environment a soft pink, he helped you pack your things and carry your suitcases to the car to return to the city. A slight nostalgia filled your chest at having to leave this place, where you had experienced something beautiful with him. A small idea of being able to visit it again and fulfill your wish of walking together hand in hand this time crossed your mind before getting into the car.

The clouds were getting darker on the way, touches of lilac and blue in the sky by the time he was at the entrance of your house opening the car door for you to get out and then the trunk to give you your things. You watched him greet your parents in the living room of your house, both excited to see you two return happily, thanking him for how attentive and thoughtful he was with you always. Seeing the interaction with your family gave you a strong desire to imagine their reactions to the news of you two being a formal couple, that that idea would come to stay in reality but your bubble burst when he suddenly hugged you and said goodbye to you to go back to his house, leaving you with a bittersweet smile on your face, thanking him again for everything he did for you.

And once again you were in your room, staring at the ceiling unable to sleep and when you turned to the side you couldn't see his face like the night before. That your sight collided only with your things in their usual place felt heavy on your chest. What if I tell him? You thought, afraid of ruining your friendship you hid under a stupid excuse of telling him as a way to vent how you felt to someone you trusted instead of a direct confession of your love for him, hoping that deep down you would reciprocate. You thought about this throughout the day as you recognized affectionate gestures from him towards you that left you thinking. The need was felt in each of your heartbeats hoping to be able to talk to him properly tomorrow but time seemed eternal.

You threw the covers off of you and changed your clothes, grabbing a coat and your car keys before leaving the house, to start the vehicle and drive to his house which by the way, was incredibly far from yours, which was an immense relief to see it in the distance as you began to approach until you went up and parked in his driveway. You called him when you got out of the car, expecting him to answer his phone, but when you got to the door, he was already there, having been notified by Mina that you were parking in his driveway. Things unrelated to what was going through your head made him wonder why you were here. Did you forget something in his car? Or did he pack his stuff in your suitcase by mistake? Maybe an emergency had come up? He hoped not. It was almost 11 pm, he usually stays up late sometimes, but he was surprised that you had come here instead of calling or texting him.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” He asked. You quickly said yes, even stopping him from letting you in before you spoke, so as not to lose the momentum that made you come here now.

"Kenji, I… you should know something" your words made him tense but he didn't take his gaze and attention off of you, nervous about what you might say. "These days I realized something extremely important and maybe you'll think it may be stupid or too soon but believe me I've never felt so sure of something, what I want… I know what I want…"

"And what do you want?" he asked, waiting for your answer, with his pulse racing as you approached him.

"You" you said without thinking, maybe deep down regretting having been so direct but it was all or nothing. "I love you Kenji… more than you think, more than just my best friend…"

He was speechless, looking at you in amazement and unable to believe it, he didn't think something so good could happen to him, something he had dreamed of so many times until he found it as something meaningless incapable of coming true. "Of course it's not stupid at all" he told you, approaching you. "Because I feel the same way about you…" you didn’t see his answer coming, his declaration, you felt yourself melting when he took your face with both hands. Your eyes were moistened by so many emotions. "I’ve always felt this way, you’re everything I want, everything I never thought I needed so much. And suddenly it’s been almost two years since I realized how much I’ve been loving you, afraid of ruining things…"

"Two years?" you asked him, with amazement in your voice. You felt like you were almost going crazy these days without being able to show him your affection completely. You couldn’t imagine how frustrating it was for him to keep everything he felt for so long.

"Kenji…" You took his face and caressed it, the distance between you both shortened more and more and without realizing it you let your lips find his to join in a kiss. It was what you had both wanted so much, you could feel all his love and you just hoped that you weren’t too nervous to not be able to show it too.

His lips were warm and soft, his heart leapt with happiness at being able to live this moment after so much, happy to be able to express himself without fear and amazed to receive your confession first in an unexpected way. "I love you, I love you so much…" he answered, kissing your forehead while you kept his hands on your face, taking them carefully.

Now you agreed to go to his house, having too many things to talk about, but now that you could hug him and hold his hand it would be easier for both of you.

#ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato #ken sato #kenji x reader #ultraman rising x reader #ultraman rising #ultraman #ultraman x reader #ultraman ken

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

Text

The Younger Kind Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley goes on his second date with Amanda. She's beautiful, sweet, and so into him. But you're on his mind like always and he needs to do something to finally get you out of his head and out of his system. He has an all too willing participant.

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4600 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

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On Saturday evening, Bradley was getting ready for his second date with Amanda. He had been steadily beating himself up since you left on Friday morning. He could tell you were upset with him. Honestly, he was upset with himself. Kissing you while he was drunk had been bad. Seriously some college fuckboy shit. Probably worse than the guys your own age, because he should know better. Because he was so much older than you.

And then he had kept you here all night, basically hijacking you when he should have sent you home. Instead, he had taken you to his bed.

But now, the joke was on him, because his entire fucking room smelled like you. When he had tried to fall asleep on Friday night, his pillow smelled like a field of wildflowers. And then all he could picture were your glossy lips, pouting with a bright red Skittle perched between them.

His dick was rock hard after that, and it had been almost painful how badly he needed to masturbate to the thought of you at midnight, his face buried in his pillow.

But that was yesterday. Now he was fresh out of the shower, where he had masturbated again, this time thinking about you in those cutoff denim shorts you had. At least now he was considerably less wound up as he let Noah play on his bed while he picked out something to wear to this film festival with Amanda.

Amanda. Yes. Now she seemed like a safe bet. She checked off all of his boxes, and she was definitely giving off the vibe that she was into him. She had even been the one to initiate plans for the second date.

"Should daddy wear this on his date tonight?" he asked Noah who was playing with some stuffed animals. He held up jeans and another Hawaiian print shirt.

"For the babysitter?" he asked, perking up.

Bradley swallowed hard. He wished. "No, bub. You get to hang out with your babysitter. I'm going to watch some movies with another woman."

Noah turned back to his stuffed panda and said, "Stay home and play with us. And eat ants on logs."

Bradley dropped the clothing onto his bed and ran his hands over his face. He stood there in his underwear for a minute, taking deep breaths.

"Noah, I'm going out with this lady so that hopefully you can meet her one day, okay?"

He listened to his son mispronounce your name. "I thought she was your favorite."

Bradley groaned, yanking on his jeans. "She is, bub. That's the problem."

He heard you let yourself in and call out his name.

"Bradley? Noah? I'm here."

Noah slid off the bed and ran out of the room as soon as he heard your voice. Bradley also felt like running into the living room to give you a hug. Instead he finished getting dressed and ran his fingers through his hair to make it look better. But when he made his way to the living room and spotted you holding Noah, wearing those cutoff shorts and a tank top, Bradley thought maybe he should have jerked off again.

"Hi," you whispered to him, trying to keep your expression neutral. Bradley wasn't sure if you were still upset with him because he had kissed you, but he did promise not to let it happen again. He would also wake you up if you ever dozed off on the couch again.

"Princess." The name was out of his mouth before he could take it back, and he watched your expression change. Now you looked pleased with yourself as you set Noah down.

"You look nice," you told him. "For your second date."

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess I have you to thank for that, since you fixed my app for me."

Bradley watched your face fall a little bit. "That must be it," you agreed. "Where are you going?" you asked as you pulled some coloring books out of your bag and held them out for Noah.

"A film festival. In Balboa Park," Bradley replied. He watched Noah select the dog themed book and plop down right on the living room floor with it.

You ruffled Noah's hair and handed him a box of crayons, and Bradley was once again aching for you.

"A film festival? Sounds right up your alley," you told him. You chewed on your lip for a beat before you added, "Maybe you should take your pajama pants and some popcorn."

Bradley could picture cuddling with you and feeding you popcorn in this room so easily, he needed to close his eyes and take a deep breath.

"Nah, I'd miss my own couch too much," he promised you.

"Ah, I see. Maybe for your third date then? You might need your couch?"

No.

He thought it so quickly. Almost said it out loud. Because he honestly could not picture bringing Amanda here after a third date.

Instead he said, "We'll see."

You nodded before you sat on the floor next to Noah. "Well, have fun."

Bradley cleared his throat. "If the two of you need your crowns, Noah's is on his dresser. And yours is on my bedpost."

Your eyes popped up to meet his, and your lips parted. He had hung it there again after you moved it before you left for your class yesterday. It was where it belonged.

"Thanks," you whispered.

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

As soon as Bradley left, you could feel your body sagging. You watched Noah color while you took a minute to catch your breath. A second date wasn't the most serious thing in the world, but you needed to get over him now. Before it got any worse. Because even if not with Amanda, there would eventually be a third date, and a fourth, and a sleepover, and a relationship.

You felt sick now.

"Can you color that dog green?" Noah asked, looking at you with his sweet face and handing you a crayon. "What's wrong?" he asked, climbing into your lap and mispronouncing your name.

"Nothing is wrong, Noah. I get to color with you and make you dinner."

He settled back onto the floor and said, "I wanted daddy to stay here tonight."

You sighed. "That would have been nice." You wondered what this woman looked like. She must have been pretty. Most of the women you saw messaging had pretty profile photos. They all looked like real adults, too. Women who had established careers, and maybe kids of their own. The kind of woman Bradley was looking for.

"Are you hungry?" you asked Noah. "Want me to make you some spaghetti?"

You tried your best not to let your thoughts stray to Bradley, but when you opened the refrigerator to get some milk out for Noah, you saw that Bradley had purchased two more bottles of the French vanilla coffee creamer. You knew he must have preferred hazelnut, but he seemed to have switched to your favorite flavor.

You slammed the door shut hard enough that Noah jumped in his seat. "Sorry," you whispered, kissing the top of his head and pouring him some milk. "Okay, time for spaghetti."

Apparently Bradley liked you well enough to keep you coming back to babysit, but not enough that he would kiss you again when he wasn't drunk and rambling about how pretty he thought you were.

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

Amanda was snuggled up against Bradley on the picnic blanket she had brought. He was already sitting awkwardly as it was, and now his back was starting to hurt as she was pressing her body along his arm. He could feel her breasts rubbing against his bicep, and he wasn't sure what he should do about it.

"Mind if I lay back?" he asked, feeling like this date was not going as well as dinner had two nights ago.

"Sounds good," Amanda practically purred, planting her palm against his chest and pushing Bradley back. When he propped his arm behind his head, he was still able to see the gigantic screen that had been set up in the park, but soon Amanda was laying on his chest, blocking the view.

"Oh, okay," he whispered, and she smiled, resting her chin on his chest.

"I mean, we weren't really watching it anyway, right?" Amanda asked, and a really adorable smile lit up her face as she licked her lips. She was pretty. And now she was scooting up along his body, her dress pulling a bit, exposing more of the tops of her breasts.

Bradley swallowed hard, and then her lips were on his. She pushed her fingers into his hair, but it kind of tickled more than anything, and Bradley was barely returning the kiss. It wasn't bad, but he also had no problem keeping both hands tucked underneath his head.

Amanda moaned softly, and he supposed it would have been enough to get him going, but now he was thinking about how his bed still smelled like you. When he tried to go to sleep later, he was probably going to get hard again. Harder than Amanda would be able to get him with her mouth on him.

Bradley pulled back a tiny bit, and thankfully his phone vibrated in his pocket. "Gotta check that, sorry," he muttered, unlocking his phone to see that you had sent him an image. He opened it with a pounding heart and clumsy fingers, revealing a photo of Noah in his crown, writing DADDY on a sheet of yellow construction paper.

Bradley just wanted to be at home.

"Everything okay?" Amanda asked, sounding a little impatient.

"Uh, yeah. One second," he mumbled, sending you a text back.

Are you wearing your crown too?

Almost instantly you wrote back to him, and Bradley was excited to see another photo of you in your crown. But he didn't get one.

Babysitter: No. I'm not feeling like much of a princess tonight. Enjoy your date.

Bradley sat up again, not sure why that bothered him so much.

"What's wrong?" Amanda asked.

"Nothing," he insisted, and then she was touching him again, her lips gliding along his neck.

"Good," she whispered, running her hand along his arm and lacing her fingers with his. And then thankfully the credits started rolling, and everyone on the neighboring blankets started to stand up.

"Movie's over," Bradley said like a straight up dunce, getting to his feet and pulling Amanda up as well. He checked his phone again. It was almost 10:30 and you hadn't said anything else to him.

"Oh, well, it's early. How about we go get dessert or coffee?" Amanda asked, insisting on keeping her fingers linked with his. "Or.... I could show you my place?"

Bradley just grunted. "I need to get back to my babysitter."

"Right," Amanda replied. "Walk me to my car?"

Bradley nodded, and managed to get her in her car only after she kissed him and rubbed herself against the front of his body. She moaned into his mouth, and Bradley honestly didn't know what the fuck was wrong with him. She was perfect, and she was clearly keen on fucking him.

He broke away, and when he was about to tell her good night, she said, "Call me and we can set up another date." But he just nodded and started to head for his Bronco.

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

After you gave Noah a bath and got him changed into pajamas, you and he shared a snack.

"Can you teach my dad how to make the ants on the logs?" he asked as you carried him to his bed.

You chuckled. "I can try, Noah, but I don't know if he could even handle doing that much in the kitchen."

Noah sighed and snuggled in with his stuffed animals. "The food is better with you here," he said with a yawn, and you rubbed his back until he was sleeping.

Then you went about your routine of picking up toys, cleaning the kitchen, and getting some food prepared for the boys. Because even if it broke your heart to know that Bradley didn't want you, there was just no way you could leave him and Noah hanging. You started by making more carrot sticks for them, and then you moved on to a few dinners before curling up on the couch with your textbooks and some Skittles.

Bradley's date must have been going well. It was pretty late, and you were trying not to think about it. You had clinicals coming up, and you needed to study. You made it about thirty minutes into your reading by the time you thought you heard Bradley pulling into the driveway. And when he rushed inside you looked up at him, just as you popped an orange Skittle into your mouth.

"Princess," he muttered, smiling softly at you.

"Bradley."

"Why aren't you wearing your crown?" he asked, closing the door behind him, but never taking his eyes off you.

You laughed, popping two yellow Skittles between your lips as you closed up your book and put it in your bag. "Why aren't you still on your date?"

"I asked you first," he insisted, and you rolled your eyes.

"I just felt more like a peasant than a princess. That's all. Now, why are you home already?"

Bradley's brow was scrunched as he sat down right in the middle of the couch, his leg rubbing yours as you immediately stood. He looked up at you, saying, "I'm not really sure." He eyed you up and down where you stood in front of him, like you were on display for his eyes only. "And you're no peasant."

His gaze was making you feel warm as you ate the last Skittle and dropped the wrapper into your bag. "I guess you're the peasant. No Skittles for you tonight," you told him. But he just responded by licking his lips.

"I don't deserve any," he told you, and you watched his huge hands as they slowly rubbed up and down his thighs. You thought about climbing in his lap, kissing him and letting him get a taste of the candy after all.

Instead you told him, "You'll let me know when you're going on your third date, and I'll come over to stay with Noah." And then you hoisted your bag up higher on your shoulder.

"I don't think there's going to be a third date," he told you, his voice so deep now, it reminded you of when you heard him in the kitchen early yesterday morning.

"Oh." You weren't sure what to think about that. You'd psyched yourself up all night long, gotten used to the fact that this Amanda woman was going to be getting to sleep in his bed with him, unlike you. And now, maybe that wasn't actually the case. "What's the problem? She tell you she hates salad dressing?"

He shook his head. "Worse. She was pretty and nice and funny, but I didn't want to touch her."

"That's a shame," you whispered, remembering exactly how his hands and his kisses felt. "Well. You know how to reach me." Bradley was staring at your lips as you turned to leave, and you pulled the door closed behind you without another glance at him.

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

Bradley was about to beg you to stay. You were the same, still funny, witty and sharp as a tack, but he could tell you were irritated with him. He wanted to get you back to joking around in the kitchen with him. He wanted to kiss you again, push you up against his furniture. While he was sober, so you knew he meant it.

But you were turning to leave, and he wasn't sure when you'd be back, because he didn't have any more dates planned. And he couldn't make himself want Amanda, no matter how hard he tried.

Just as he was about to suggest you stay and have a beer with him, you were turning to leave without gracing him with another glimpse of your pretty face.

"Fuck," he groaned as the door closed behind you. "You fucking idiot," he growled, picturing those Skittles brushing against your lips before you crunched on them. He rubbed his hand along his dick through his jeans. He was hard and getting harder now, and that's when he caught sight of your hoodie on the couch next to him.

Bradley grabbed it and buried his face in it, inhaling the wildflower smell and stroking himself again. "Princess," he grunted, running his nose along the fabric. "Oh, fuck."

He unbuttoned his jeans and eased the zipper down, knowing there was only one way he was going to get a little bit of relief, short of enjoying your body right now. With one more deep inhale, Bradley let his hand glide down his abs, ready to pull his jeans down. He groaned your name this time. And then the front door opened again.

"I forgot my hoodie- Oh!" you gasped, eyes wide as you took in the sight before you. Bradley had his hand close to his cock, and your shirt was balled up in his fist, near his nose.

He was hoping you'd just turn around and leave again, pretend you didn't see any of this. He was completely mortified as he dropped your hoodie to try to cover his open zipper and his underwear from your view. At least he hadn't pulled himself out yet.

But instead of leaving, you pushed the door closed, with you firmly inside his house. You took a delicate step toward him, nibbling on your lip with your eyes trained on his.

"Were you saying my name?" you asked softly, taking another step in his direction. He was so mesmerized by your body, with your bare legs on display, he started nodding before he could stop himself.

"Yeah, Princess," he groaned, and he knew his cheeks must be bright red.

He watched you reach up and touch your neck. "Shouldn't you be moaning Amanda's name?" you whispered, and Bradley was treated to the sight of you pressing your fingertips to your lips.

He just shook his head, and now you were standing right in front of him, so close he could touch you. You knew now. He was certain you knew exactly what you were doing to him. There was no turning back.

"No, Princess. Amanda doesn't make me hard like you do."

"You were thinking about me?"

Bradley nodded. "That's the problem. I can't stop thinking about you." He couldn't believe he said that. He was going to die of mortification.

But you whimpered, and Bradley was bucking up against nothing as your eyes dropped to his barely concealed erection.

You bent at the waist, resting both of your palms on his knees, and Bradley was treated to a nice view down your shirt. You licked your lips, and he was about to lean forward and kiss you as you said, "I can help you with that. If you want."

Then you slowly pulled your hoodie off of his lap and glanced down. Bradley's cock was hard and huge, aching as you were touching him now. Before he could answer, he watched you sink down to your knees and settle in between his splayed legs. You were rubbing his thighs through his jeans, and his heart was pounding so hard, he thought he might pass out.

Your voice was so soft and sweet. "Do you want me to?"

The only thing Bradley wanted was for you to take care of this for him. For him to be able to feel your hands on his body. He groaned as you ran your fingers up and over his cock, squeezing him through his jeans.

"Oh, yeah, Princess. Please."

And then you were guiding his jeans and underwear down until he was springing to attention, finally free from the tight fabric.

Your glossy lips were parted, and your eyes were wide as you reached for him, wrapping one hand gently around his length. You stroked him once, and Bradley almost shot up off the couch, it felt so good.

Then you kissed his tip, swiping his precum away with your tongue, and Bradley was leaning forward and tipping your chin up to meet his eyes.

"Princess," he groaned, running his thumb along your lips. "You done this before?" He wanted you so badly, but he couldn't stand the thought of this being your first foray into oral sex. He was simply too far gone for something so delicate.

You parted your lips and licked his thumb with a smirk. "Yeah. Once or twice, Bradley." Your tone was sarcastic, and he throbbed in your hand. "I am in college, you know. I'll take excellent care of you, I promise," you whispered, kissing his tip again while you kept eye contact with him.

"Yeah," he grunted. "That's what I'm afraid of." He stroked your cheek, watching your every move intently. When your perfect lips parted and wrapped around his cock, Bradley ran both of his hands through his hair before fisting them at his sides. You were barely sucking on him, just the tip, but it felt so fucking good he was already panting.

When your tongue popped out to swirl around him, he tipped his head back and groaned. "Princess," he hissed, his cock leaping in your hand as you let your thumb trail down his full length to his balls. "Goddamn it."

He watched you smirk and open your mouth wider, taking as much of him as you could. You bobbed on his length, pushing him deep enough that you were starting to gag. And that was it; Bradley's hands flew to your face, stroking your cheeks softly with his fingers before pushing back along your hair.

You watched his face as you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked harder. "Oh, fuck," he growled, neck and shoulders straining against the urge to fuck your face until he came. He didn't want to do that, not right now, because this slow agony you were putting him through was fucking fantastic.

When you slowly dragged your lips back to his tip and popped him out of your mouth, Bradley was treated to the sight of your wide eyes and your tongue peeking out to wet your lips. You looked so fucking innocent. So young. So filthy with your tongue laving along the underside of his cock, keeping him nice and wet.

Then you moaned softly, and Bradley hissed your name.

You eyes met his with a soft, hazy look as you ran the tip of your nose down to his balls. "God, you're so big," you whispered, kissing him there. "Are all Daddys this big?" you asked him.

Bradley pulled gently on your hair, tipping your head back to look at him, keeping you steady with his other hand on your neck. The softest sound escaped your parted lips as he leaned forward a bit. "Call me Daddy again."

Your lip trembled as you nodded with Bradley's hand tight around a fistful of your hair. "Okay. Daddy."

His primal moan filled the living room, as he watched you rub your cheek against the angry, red head of his cock.

Then your perfect lips were on him again, your tongue treating him to sensations he couldn't ever remember feeling. He tried to keep his hands gentle on your face and hair, but you felt too good. He found himself guiding you a little slower, needing to make this last as long as physically possible.

You took him until you gagged again, and Bradley was seeing stars. "You're so fucking good, Princess," he groaned, but that just seemed to egg you on as you went harder. Bradley watched you take him impossibly deeper, feeling the rub of your throat along his tip. He could feel himself moving against your throat where his hand was now gripping you, and he just gaped at you, mouth hanging wide open as you licked and sucked.

When you released him again, you used both hands to stroke him as you kissed the tip. "Do you like this, Daddy?"

Bradley's eyes were practically rolling back in his head. "Oh yeah," he grunted, thrusting up into your palm as you tickled and squeezed his balls in one small hand.

"Do you want to cum in my mouth?" you asked him, eyes glittering as you kitten licked along his cock. He was throbbing in time with your little licks and kisses, and he leaned forward to kiss your forehead.

"God, baby. So bad," he grunted, pushing you down gently with his palm on the back of your head. He saw you grin and heard you giggle, and he couldn't get enough. When you parted your lips for him, you guided him toward your plush tongue, tapping him against you there. Then you wrapped your mouth around him once more, and Bradley knew he wasn't going to last long.

The obscene, wet sounds. Your soft moans. The vibrations along his dick. You were bobbing hard and fast now as he chanted Princess.... Princess!

You took him so deep, he could feel your lip and you saliva on his tightening balls as you sucked him hard. He knew his fingers were digging into your scalp, and you were squeezing his hip now. When your gaze met his, Bradley really felt his control slipping.

"No, no, no," he whispered, wanting this to last forever. It was so good. You were too good at this. And he would be lying to himself if he said your pretty, innocent looking face wasn't making him even harder for you.

You must have been able to tell he was close when you wrapped one hand around the base of him. You swirled your tongue while you jerked your mouth around him with such finesse, Bradley couldn't believe you were only twenty four. "So fucking good," he groaned. "God damn it!"

And then you took him like a champ, all of his thrusts hit the back of your throat, but you barely flinched, keeping your gaze on his. Your eyes were watering now, and you whimpered as he filled your mouth and throat up with his hot cum.

It had been so long since he had been with a woman, but he didn't think he'd ever had an orgasm that lasted this long. He was still groaning, fingers gentle at the back of your head as you swallowed him down. Then you came back for more, slowly gliding your mouth back down his length before popping him out again.

He whispered, "Princess. Fuck," as he watched you lick up the additional beads of cum that you coaxed out of him. And then Bradley was spent, sitting back against the couch in a daze. He stroked his fingers along your cheek and chin, caressing you as you continued to lovingly kiss and lick his cock as he started to grow soft in your hands.

"You okay, Daddy?" you asked him, wiping up some of his cum from the corner of your lips.

"Princess," he whispered as you nuzzled against his hand. "You learned a lot in college, huh?"

You just giggled, and reached your finger out to his lips. Bradley opened his mouth for you, and licked up his own cum, loving the look in your half lidded eyes. He watched you lick your finger after he was done with it, and then you stood up. He thought about asking you to stay with him, but instead he just sat there with his cock hanging out and watched you pull on your hoodie.

"Let me know when you need me again," you told him with a smirk before leaning down and kissing his forehead. Then you left again without another word.

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

Bradley got his dick wet with the babysitter. Bye, Amanda. Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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softpascalito · 1 year ago

Text

Pregnancy Sex with Javier Peña

Summary: You're pregnant, Javier is overprotective. The problem: You're also really fucking horny.

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader

WC: ~2600

Tags/Warnings: MNDI!, Explicit, Smut, F/M, Established Relationship, Pregnant Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal FIngering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Aftercare, Idiots in Love, Creampie, this is equally soft and filthy

AO3 LINK

Notes:

hello loves! i have quite literally not written smut in years but i needed this to exist so here we are. some feedback or just a short comment means the world to me. and now enjoy! <3 - lea

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The curtains blew in the wind, moved by a gentle breeze. Bogotá was rarely peaceful. Even in the night, sirens and occasional gunshots could be heard, disturbing a city that was trying to sleep, trying to find some kind of peace in the dark.

For a long time, you hadn't thought it possible for something like peace to exist in this place. Then you had met Javier Peña.

And at first, he too had seemed like the furthest thing from peace. He was all marlboro reds and sleepless nights and gentle, brown eyes that had seen far too many people die.

You'd been sick this morning. Not actually sick though.

Morning sickness had been plaguing you for a few weeks but up until now, it hadn't been as bad. Your body had flat out refused to keep anything down, including the medication that was supposed to help lower the light fever you'd developed by mid morning.

Javier had insisted on getting Connie to take a look at you. If he had been overprotective of you before the pregnancy, you weren't sure how to describe his current state. Carrying a grocery bag by yourself was considered a high danger by the Agent, no matter how light it was. To everyone's surprise, the protectiveness hadn't stopped with you. He had not only started carrying said grocery bags himself but he'd also stopped smoking, which was considered nothing short of a miracle by everyone around you.

After his brief chat with Connie, he had taken half the day off, staying behind to take care of you even though you'd insisted you were fine.

At first, he had seemed like the furthest thing from peace. Then you'd gotten to know him and in return he'd gotten you pregnant. And suddenly Javier Peña had given you a peace and love so deep, you still couldn't fully comprehend it. You weren't sure he could either.

The sickness had lessened over the day, aided by Javi actually getting you to eat a little something for dinner. You had fallen asleep on the couch a short while later. Now, you were in bed, happy to have kept your food down. Still, your pregnancy had left you with a completely different kind of problem.

“Javi?” You mumbled into the dark, unsure if he was already asleep. It only took a second for him to sit up, turning to face you. Even with nothing but the low light from the street falling in through the windows, you could see the worry on his face.

“What do you need, querida?” His voice was a little rougher than usual after not having spoken in a while. Maybe he had in fact already been asleep.

“Nothing.” You mumbled, giving a small shrug. You felt stupid. This was stupid.

Javier sensed that there was some sort of hesitation on your part and he shifted a little, reaching out for you:” C'mere.” He whispered. You obliged, cuddling into his side as you looked up at him. He gave you a small smile and you couldn't help but lean forward, pressing a small kiss to his lips. Javier kissed back gently, never with too much force.

Taking initiative, you prodded his lips with your tongue until he opened his mouth a tiny bit, allowing you entrance. Your hand that had been resting on his chest slid down his shirt. Before he could realize what was happening, it had dipped under his waistband of his boxers and your hand was gently wrapped around him.

Javier finally broke the kiss and sucked in a breath:” Querida..” He mumbled. Just as you felt him twitch, he moved. Ever so gently, his hand followed yours and carefully led it back up to his chest, placing it there with a small pat. You pouted at him, even in the dark:” Look, don't laugh, please. Just, sometimes the hormones-”

“get you really fucking horny?” He asked with a small smirk, completing the sentence for you.

You frowned at him. His hand was still on yours and you turned it a little so your fingers could intertwine:” How do you know about that?”

“Read it in a book.” He replied simply. You raised your brows, unable to suppress a small giggle:” The book said “really fucking horny” ?”

“Something along those lines.” A low chuckle escaped his throat. You stayed like that for a moment, both grinning, holding hands. Then he spoke again, this time more softly.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

You had never thought you'd hear Javier Peña say that. Not that he had ever wanted to hurt you. He was an attentive lover and he was always careful not to go too rough on you. Clearly you weren't the only one changed by the pregnancy.

“I'm not asking you to hurt me. Im asking you to fuck me.” You hummed, again bold enough to take the lead as you rolled on top of him and sat up slightly. Your bump was barely showing and the shirt you had stolen from him hid most of it but a tiny curve was showing through the fabric, standing proudly over Javier's own stomach.

He opened his mouth to undoubtedly continue the discussion when you slowly began to grind your hips on him. Whatever argument he'd had prepared gave way for the breathy moan that escaped his throat.

It took him every ounce of self-control to not give in right there and then. When you leaned down to kiss him again, he took the chance and gently grabbed your hips, lifting you off him and returning you into a more comfortable position beside him:” Baby...”

He took a deep breath, propping himself up on his elbow to get a better look at you:” You sure you want this?”

You huffed:” Yes, I am sure. If you read the stupid book, you know its safe and-”

“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands in defense:” Just making sure.” His large hand wandered over your hair before gently caressing your cheek:” We'll do this my way.”

Even if you were unsure what he meant by that exactly, you gave a small nod. He had never not been good to you. You only hoped he wasn't trying to be too good.

Javier gently grabbed his pillow and gently pushed it under your back:” Let me take care of you.” He mumbled as he guided you to lie back into your own pillow, evidently trying to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. As he moved around you and adjusted the blankets, you got a good look at him.

You weren't sure if it was the situation or the attention you had given him earlier but you could tell his boxers were getting uncomfortably tight. He didn't seem to mind, taking his time in making the surroundings perfect for you- you weren't sure exactly how the blanket next to you was going to heighten your sexual pleasure, but you were happy he was at least doing something.

Eventually, he returned his attention to your body and gently grabbed your ankle, running his hand all the way up your leg until it was resting on your upper thigh. His thumb brushed over the soft skin on the inside of it, drawing half-circles. You squirmed under his touch, trying to push yourself against him.

“So impatient .” He chuckled but he did use his other hand to slowly push up your shirt:” Have I told you how sexy you look in my clothes?” It came out as a mumble and you gave a small grin as you raised your arms to help him slide it off:” You have.”

“Good,” came his reply. He brought up both his hands to gently cup your breasts as he leaned down to kiss you again:” Just checking.”

He let his hands wander down to your round stomach and you could see his gaze change. He had those large, round puppy eyes that were reserved for those who knew him best and that always got the better of you- even now. Making you forget the need between your legs, you instead settled contently on watching him caress your stomach.

Javi apparently felt the same, taking his time to gently rub it before leaning down to give it a few kisses. He hummed softly as he kissed a trail down to the upper end of your panties. They slid down your legs in one quick motion and another soft kiss of the thigh was all you got before you felt his mustache brush against you.

He looked up at you for a fleeting moment:” Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

You nodded quickly. The need had returned and you wanted nothing more than to feel him.

Javi licked a stripe up your slit, immediately drawing a moan from you as you let your head fall back. He alternated between soft kisses and gently sucking on your clit, running his tongue over every inch between your legs before finally plunging it inside.

Your hand automatically wandered into his hair, pulling gently as you tried not to fall apart right away.

His name left your lips more times than either of you could count, starting out as a soft moan and quickly turning into a whimper, begging for more.

“Javi, por favor.”

“Está bien, I got you.” He muttered, the vibrations of his voice adding an extra layer of intensity to the feeling of his mouth on you. He added one finger and when he realized how wet and open you were, a second one.

The feeling of his large fingers moving in and out of you combined with his tongue still on your clit brought you to the edge faster than you wanted.

“Please, want you inside,” You whispered, gazing down at his brown curls peeking out between your thighs. He raised his head at that and you could see him carefully studying your face, his hair already messy from your attacks. Neither of you really cared. If anything, you thought it looked good on him.

“You sure it's not too much?” He asked again, not yet quite moving to fulfill your wishes. You gave a small nod:” I'm sure.”

You must have sounded more secure than you actually were because he gave an approving look and then leaned back to slide down his boxers, his cock springing free immediately. He was already painfully hard and you could see the tip glistening.

Javi gently spread your legs a little further, always careful to keep the position comfortable. He rubbed his cock over your slit a few times before giving in and slowly, carefully pushing inside. Automatically, your hands found him again, this time gripping onto his upper arms for support as you took a few deep breaths.

He kept a watchful glance on you as he bottomed out with a small groan and stilled inside of you, clearly wanting to give you some time to adjust to his size.

You silently marveled at his self control. It wasn't exactly a quality he had ever lacked but you could feel how he was shaking a little more than usual with the effort of staying still.

“Doing so well, querida.” He mumbled as he leaned down to kiss your cheek, always mindful to not put too much pressure on your stomach. You smiled softly and ran your hands up his arms until they were drawing small circles on his back.

You squeezed a little, a sign he had come to understand for you being ready.

Very slowly, he started to pull out again- just to slide right back in. He let out a groan that mixed with yours. Clearly satisfied with the reaction, he repeated the motion again and again- speeding up ever so slightly with each thrust.

It was a different kind of lovemaking, slow and gentle and easy, like both of you had simply been made to fit together like this, molded against each other's bodies. It was perfect. It was Javi. A different Javi than you'd met months ago. But still Javi.

One of your hands wandered into his hair again and it wasn't long before your whimpers from before turned into downright prayers, whispering his name over and over again as you begged him to give you more. Javier had lost his initial reluctance, daring a bit more, as he too, whispered constant praise into your ear.

“Where?” He managed to choke out, knowing he wasnt gonna last much longer. You used the hand in his hair to pull him down towards you, meeting his lips with another kiss, humming into it:” Inside.”

He looked at you for a split second and you could feel his movements slow a bit as he clearly weighed his options.

“You know, I can't exactly get pregnant again.” You whispered, giggling a little under him. Javi gave you an adoring look and nodded:” Are you challenging me?”

His pace picked up and he kissed your cheek again as he aimed to hit that perfect spot that he knew made you feel so good.

“You're perfect, you know that, querida?” He mumbled:” You gonna come with me?”

You nodded eagerly and it only took a few more thrusts until you felt the pleasure wash over you, clenching down on him as you rode out your orgasm. Javi groaned your name, following suit and spilling inside of you just as you had requested.

When you came down from your high, you still felt his arms around you, holding you gently. He planted soft kisses all over your neck and down your collarbones, waiting for you to fully return to him. You were content to just lay there and stare at him and wonder how in the world you'd gotten so lucky.

He watched you with a smile:” What's going on in that head of yours? I didn't fuck you stupid, did I?” Javi ducked, chuckling when you playfully aimed for his head:'' Cabrón.” You muttered under your breath.

He didn't even try to hide his grin as he let go of you to carefully pull out. To your surprise, he was actually prepared, having a small towel ready that he used to clean you up, wiping down the reminiscents of your love-making.

As your brain slowly regained his normal function you, once again, couldn't control a small giggle. Javier glanced up at you with a raised brow as he put the towel aside:" What's so funny?"

"You read a book."

Javier managed his best to actually look offended:" I read books."

"A pregnancy book." You continued, giggling a little more. It was cute how hard he was trying. Javier slid up your panties again, making sure you were both dressed before he pulled the covers back over you.

As he returned to his spot next to you, you could spot a faint blush on his cheek. He grumbled something as he smoothed over the blanket, avoiding your gaze.

Your gaze softened a bit as your giggling died down:”Javi.” You mumbled, pulling him closer:” I think it's very sweet.” His shoulders visibly relaxed a little more at that and he sighed softly:” You do?”

“I do. Especially if it taught you to do that .” You teased gently as the two of you scooted closer, his arms finding their way around you once more as your eyes already started to droop:” Did it have any other world-changing tips to offer about pregnancy?”

Javier gazed down at you, taking in your relaxed face. He smiled.

” It said you should go to sleep. It's been a long day.”

You hummed contently as you felt him pressing a soft kiss to your lips and then one more to your forehead.

”Yeah, it has been.”

________________________________________

i hope you liked this! dont forget to leave a comment if you did <3 if you want more of my unhinged horny thoughts, also check out my twt @softpascalito :)

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