#and picking up every extra shift i can at all jobs

[scarletrosii]

I had to cancel all of my payments to patreon and honestly. The fact that I had to breaks my heart. Sending even like 2 dollars to somebody who's art I love, it gave me so much joy, and I desperately hope I can get back to it soon.

This is just me yelling into the void, I know there's nothing anybody can do about it

[peaches-and-honey-and-the-moon]

The speaker actually worked at work today and I hated my new job less but I'm still looking for different places. There's such a weird energy in the building. It all feels like forced happiness. Like "there's no war in ba sing sa" type vibes it's so uncomfortable

[puckinghischier]

Cart Girls & Curly Q’s

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke has a crush on the cart girl

notes: for once, i feel like i didn’t really struggle while writing luke. this probably isn’t one of my best works, but i loved the idea and i’m so glad i was able to try to bring it to life. hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say yes.” with Luke and maybe a cart girl at the golf club close to the summer lake house?

[3k]

Most of your friends absolutely hate going to work in the summertime. They hate being stuck in an office or storefront all day, no chance to enjoy the high UV and prime lake hours.

You, however, never wake up dreading your work.

During the cold, Michigan winters, you work as a bartender at your college’s local bar. You attend your classes in the morning, do your homework in the afternoon, then clock into your shifts at night. You have the routine down to a science.

During the summers, though, you found a job as the cart girl at the uppity country club closest to the large community of expensive lake houses you drive by every morning.

The tips are amazing, and getting paid to drive around in the sunshine and watch attractive men play golf all day is what you call a small piece of paradise. Not to mention you’re off by five o’clock every day, allowing time to join your friends and family out on the boat for night swims and evening rides.

Today was especially good, with it being one of the hottest days of the summer, your sales were sky high.

You’ve already had to restock your beer cooler three times this morning, and it’s barely even noon.

Your boss has really been pushing the sale of liquor, so you inform every group you pass about your buy a double, get a single shot half off deal, but nothing calls to a man more than a cold beer on a hot golf course.

Many of the men you’ve served today have given you a tip simply because you’re out working in the heat, delivering beers ‘like an angel’ one middle aged man told you, handing you an extra ten.

You just laughed and told him thank you, pocketing the cash. You always loved weekend mornings, locals and vacationers alike all over the course, upping your sales, and as a result, your tips.

As you’re leaving the club house after yet another restock, you see a group of guys that you assumed were around your age.

They were being loud, but not obnoxious, as they piled into two carts and sped their way out to the course, eager to get their game started.

You wondered when you would see them, having been told not to bother people until they’re at least on hole two. Apparently, people get mad when you try to sell them alcohol in the middle of their first stroke.

Making your way around your normal path, you start at hole eight and work your way in a circle until you get back to the clubhouse, the later holes being your big money makers. People are either celebrating their lead or mourning their loss at that point, wanting a drink either way.

You sell a few shots, making your boss happy no doubt, but run out of beers for the fourth time that day around hole sixteen. You stop and offer to each group after that, selling a few more liquor items, but were mostly told to come back when you had beer again.

Flying down the cart path, you see the same group of guys from earlier around hole seven, one out of the group flagging you down as you speed by.

You slow your cart down to a stop and they walk over to meet you, grabbing their wallets from their carts as they approach you.

“Sorry, boys, out of beer. On my way back to the clubhouse now to restock if you want to wait a few,” you tell them once they’re within ear shot, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“Well, do you have anything you can sell us? I’m getting beat pretty bad out here and need a pick me up. Don’t really care what it is,” a brunette pleaded.

You tell him about the shot deals, and he hands you his I.D., requesting a double shot of crown and ginger-ale before turning and asking his cart buddy what he wanted.

“Jack, what do you want?” he calls over to a guy that looked similar to him, thinking to yourself that they could be brothers.

He explains the discount to the other brunette, saying he’s already paid, just to pick what he wanted.

After viewing the second player’s I.D., your brother theory is confirmed by their matching last name.

Jack, you learned, asked for a simple, funnily enough, Jack and coke.

“Alright, gentlemen, anything else I can do for you?” you ask, turning to face the last member of the group.

You make eye contact with a tall, curly-headed boy, noticing the pink tone of his cheeks when you catch him staring at you.

“Anything for you, curly Q?” you ask him, taking note of how attractive he was. You always play up the flirting a little when you find a player on the course attractive, figuring it’ll help your sales while simultaneously allowing you to have a little fun.

His cheeks turn an ever-deeper shade of red when he realizes you’re talking to him, freezing up and averting his eyes. You feel a little bad for putting him on the spot, but you find his shyness endearing.

“Nah, Lukey here isn’t old enough, is he Quinny? Still got a few months till you can drink with the big bros. Isn’t that right, Luke?” the brunette named Jack slaps who you’ve now learned is Luke on the back.

You let out a chuckle, witnessing the deadly glare Luke shoots at his older brother.

“Don’t worry, they picked a cart girl that isn’t even old enough to drink, either. Won’t be able to drink the concoctions I make until next spring,” you tell him, hoping to alleviate a little of the embarrassment you caused him.

“Oh, wow,” is all he utters out, bringing out another laugh from you.

“Alright, well, I’ll let you boys get back to your game,” you tell them, walking back over to get back into your cart.

You ride off, thinking of the tall, curly brunette the whole time.

Three hours later, you’re tending the clubhouse bar.

When you came back in for restock, your boss told you it was too hot for you to keep your role as cart girl all day, insisting you switch out with one of your coworkers.

You weren’t too upset with the trade off, now in air conditioning but still getting tips from buzzed players after their game, either nursing their loss or celebrating their win.

The clubhouse gets busier as the day goes on, people dipping in for a quick cool off after playing eighteen holes in the heat.

“Hey, new body down on the end. Care to get it for me?” your co-tender, Brady, asks you, the two of you working in tandem.

You nod at him as you finish pouring the beer in your hand, walking down to the other end of the bar.

“Hey, player, what can I get for ya?” you ask the stranger, not looking up as you place a coaster in front of the patron.

“Just-Just a water, if you don’t mind,” he asks, slightly stumbling his words.

You look up to see the curly brunette, Luke, from earlier.

“Oh, it’s you. Curly Q,” you say, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice.

“Name’s Luke, actually,” he tells you, the redness from earlier returning to his cheeks.

“Yeah, I remember. Just think Curly Q fits you better,” you smirk at him, placing the glass full of water on his coaster. “I’m Y/N.”

He mumbles a small thanks, taking a sip from the glass.

“Anything else I can get for you?” you ask him, glancing down the bar to see if any new customers have sat down.

He stares at you, his eyes caught like a deer in headlights.

You wait patiently for an answer, letting out a small giggle when he just continues to stare at you.

“Alright, well I’ll let you think about your answer and be right back,” you laugh as you start to walk away.

“Wait!” Luke startles you, stopping you in your tracks. “Uhh..do you…come here often?” he stutters out, closing his eyes tightly in embarrassment as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Your eyes shine at him with amusement. “Well, I work here, so I think I’d have to say yes,” you respond, smiling.

Luke peeks one eye open at you, seeing your amused expression and sighing, letting his body sag.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked that,” he runs his hand through his curls nervously.

You rest your arms on the bar in front of you. “Ehh, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, scrunching your nose as you shake your head.

Luke gives you a nervous smile, sliding his water towards his body and running his finger around the rim of the glass.

“I’m sure you talk to all kinds of idiots like me when you’re serving drinks, huh?” he asks, making your face fall a bit at his defeated tone.

You stand a little straighter. “Nah, not really. Most of the idiots I talk to are just old and creepy, not my age and charming,” you tell him, finally earning a laugh from him.

His laugh was more of an amused scoff, but you already want to see the shy smile that makes its way onto his face afterwards, again.

“Yeah, cause a guy that asks you if you come to your job often is the epitome of charming,” he looks up at you.

“Well, it’s kept me here talking to you so far, hasn’t it?”

Luke blushes, making you think the man in front of you is unable to go two minutes without his face turning red.

“Yeah, I guess it has,” he casts his eyes towards his lap.

“So, Luke, you a local or here on vacation?” you ask him, glancing down at the quickly clearing stools. You know Brady is getting all of your tips right now, but you can’t bring yourself to move from your spot.

“Well, a little bit of both. Technically on vacation because I live in New Jersey now, but my parents have owned a lake house here since I was a kid, so I claim the title of a local,” you finally get him to loosen up a little, his body language relaxing. “Plus I went to U of M for a little while, so I’ve spent quite a bit of time over in Ann Arbor.”

“Ahh, a city boy,” you tease, grabbing a glass to wipe down, making it look like you’re at least partially doing your job. “Why’d you leave Ann Arbor?”

“Got a…uh…job offer in Jersey,” he tells you cryptically, eyes darting around the room.

“‘A uh…job offer?’ What are you, in the mafia?” you ask him, mimicking his words and poking fun at his nervousness at telling you about his job.

“Well, not quite,” he starts, laughing a real laugh this time, causing you to mentally record the sound and store it in your brain. “I…ahhh…I play hockey up there.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like, professionally?”

He sinks back into his seat, looking like he wants to hide.

“Yeah. For the New Jersey Devils. My brother, Jack plays for them, too,” He tries to pass some of the attention off of himself.

“Wait, you and your brother both play in the NHL?” the impressed tone of your voice gives Luke a little boost of confidence.

“Well, both of my brothers, actually. But Quinn plays for the Canucks up in Vancouver. Jack and I are both in Jersey, though.”

You let your mouth hang open at him, not being able to hide your shock.

This earns another laugh from Luke.

“What kind of superhuman DNA do your parents possess?” you ask him.

“Not sure. We’re still being studied as we speak,” Luke leans closer, whispering like he’s telling you a secret. “The big wigs in the NHL haven’t found out yet that they grew us in test tubes in their basement.”

You let out a laugh so loud that you gain the attention of several men on the other end of the bar, slapping your hand over your mouth.

Luke leans back in his seat, a fond smile on his face as he sees your embarrassed expression.

“Hey, Y/N, you gonna come help me do your job or what?” you hear Brady yell, annoyed that he’s been working the whole bar alone for the past ten minutes.

You roll your eyes while still facing Luke, removing your hand from your mouth and turning your head to respond. “Yeah, don’t get your club all bent, I’ll be right there.”

Luke’s still smiling at you when you turn back to face him.

“Guess that’s my cue to get back to my job and quit talking to cute boys sitting at the bar, huh?” you spew, realizing what you just said a second too late.

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, his back straightening in surprise.

You pause all movements, staring at Luke.

“Uhh…anyways, gotta go do my job. Y’know, the thing I come around often for?” you make a call back to Luke’s attempt at a line earlier, hoping it take some of the attention off of what you just said.

Luke chuckles at you. “Yeah, I need to go meet back up with my fellow lab rats, anyways,” he tells you, reaching for his wallet, placing a twenty down on the bar.

“You do realize water is free, right?” you tell him, sliding the bill back to him.

“Yeah. Figured I’d try to make up for the tips I caused you to lose, though,” he shrugs his shoulders, standing from his chair.

“Nope, I’m not taking your money. Feels like you’re just paying me for talking to you,” you tell him, holding the money out towards him and shaking it around, trying to make him take it.

Luke shakes his head at your stubbornness. “C’mon, just take it. Your coworker collected all kinds of tips while you were over here.”

“Nope,” you shake your head, leaning over and grabbing Luke’s arm, placing the money in his hand.

“I need to do something, though. I feel bad causing you to lose out on money that should’ve been yours,” he insists.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you make it up to me,” you start, watching him try to lay the money down again and shooting your arm out, preventing him from doing so. “By giving me your number,” you decide to be bold.

Luke goes still. “Uhh, y-yeah. Sure,” he snaps out of his momentary freeze, fumbling for his phone, handing it over to you.

You put your number in his phone, sending yourself a text before handing it back with a wink.

“I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Luke asks, pushing his stool in.

You nod your head yes, turning to go back to your job duties.

You turn back around after you take a few steps, seeing Luke walking away with his back turned.

“Hey, Curly Q!” you call after him, causing him to turn to look at you. “I get off at five, in case you were wondering,” you shout towards him, flashing a smirk before you walk away.

Luke smiles and shakes his head, making his way towards the other side of the clubhouse.

You watch his figure as he moves across the room, stopping to make small talk with a man, shaking his head before joining his brothers at a small table on the restaurant side of the clubhouse, picking up his menu and browsing the food selection.

You smile to yourself and go back to stacking glasses.

As you’re transferring a new stack of clean glasses to the cooler under the bar, you hear someone call your name from above you.

You stand, rattling off your typical greeting to the new customer.

“Someone named Luke asked me to give this to you,” he tells you, handing you the same twenty-dollar bill Luke had tried to hand you a few minutes prior.

You pick up the bill as the stranger walks away, looking down at it before raising your head and looking for the curly headed culprit.

You meet Luke’s eye, raising a brow at him while lifting the paper money, pointing at it.

Luke shrugs his shoulders and grins from across the room.

Months later, when you’re attending your first ever Devils game in support of your newly titled boyfriend, you watch him skate out on the ice for warm ups, making a bee-line to the seat he provided for you.

He looks at you in his Jersey, a sight he pictured from the moment he first saw you on the golf course last summer, wondering how he managed to impress the pretty cart girl he embarrassed himself with, what feels like so long ago.

Your smile took up your entire face as you waved at him, excited to finally see him play in person. He smiles back, pointing down to the ground, asking if you wanted a puck.

You nodded your head yes, watching him pick up a puck and take the cover off of a small cut out in the plexiglass separating the two of you.

When he slides the puck through the hand sized hole, you grab onto his glove, replacing the puck with a piece of paper before pushing his hand back towards him.

He looks down at his hand, confusion written all over his face. He opens his glove, looking down at his hand, his head snapping up to look at you once he realizes what you had done.

“There’s your tip, hot shot!” you shout at him through the glass, smiling in amusement, seeing the same twenty-dollar bill from the first day you met him resting in his red glove, never imagining that the nervous, bumbling boy sitting in front of you at the bar that day would make you feel like the luckiest girl in all of Michigan, and now New Jersey.

[eupheme]

Logan with a softie that he's trying to win over after the events of deadpool and wolverine pleaseee. Maybe she was someone really important to him back in his world but not in her world, thankyouuuu💖

oh 🥺💖 this is so sweet, I love this! this turned into a soft little thing about logan being your seat partner on your morning commute? (because wade made him get a job and there’s no way they can afford a car) - I hope you like it!

— right beside me

logan howlett x f!reader | 600 words | fluff

On the crowded bus, he meets your eyes. He knows you - met you at the apartment a couple days ago. A friend of Wade’s, a mutant like him. Works downtown, near the factory he picks up shifts at - just enough to cover some of the rent.

Knew you from before, too. The curve of your smile had hit him like a ton of bricks - a perfect, mirror image.

It still startles him now, even as his feet take him down the aisle. Folding himself in, when you pat the spot next to you.

Would prefer to walk, if he could.

But the city is too loud - too crowded. Sets his teeth on edge, and at least this early the bus is usually quiet. Easy enough to get on, slip off early and finish the last few blocks on foot.

“Work, huh?” You beam - rearranging your things, as he fills the seat next to you, “Guess some things are the same for all of us, aren’t they?”

Some things are.

And when you’re there again, two days later, it gives him something to look forward to. Likes the way your face changes - brightening - when you see him. The way you leave a spot for him each time.

And as the days pass, Logan starts getting off at right stop - instead of before. The extra fifteen minutes with you is worth it - your voice layers with the hum of the bus. Calming.

Gets restless on the days he doesn’t see you, though he pretends it doesn’t.

He tells you, some days after. Feels wrong not to. Something hushed and halted, in-between stops. A little gasp when you realize that Other-You knows him. Soaking in the stripped-down details like flowers in rain.

“I knew there was something.” You smile, your shoulder bumping his. It arcs through him like lightning, even through the worn flannel, “You just have a feeling when you meet someone, you know?”

He does.

You tell him things too, as the days pass. Filling the minutes as the city zips by around them and the sun fully rises.

Little things. Gossip from your job - catching him up on stories about people he’ll never meet. How you’re looking forward to autumn, all the frilly drinks you want to try. Vacations you’d like to take, someday.

He answers your questions his job. Others about Wade, when you pick up that he’s slow to answer ones about himself. Something bristling until he catches the way you listen - that soft focus, hanging on his every word.

The beast settles, then.

He gets you one of those drinks, the day that summer fades into fall. The spice prickles at his nose, sweet and cloying as it melds with the sugary foam.

It’s worth it, to see the way you light up. At him, and it sends something twisting in his chest. The gasp, when he passes the cup over - his name scrawled across the lid.

“You remembered!” You beam, taking it from him. A happy sigh, as you take a sip, “Thank you, Logan. You didn’t have to do that.”

He hums, brushing off your praise. Letting it settle beneath his skin, soft and glowing.

Something meaningful in the way your shoulder fully presses against his, now. The soft glances from under your eyelashes, when you think he’s not looking.

Maybe he’ll tell you someday. When he’s ready.

He remembers everything about you.

thanks for reading! 💖

[rhysazriel]

Only Angel [Mafia!Azriel]

SUMMARY: Azriel's a dangerous Mafia leader, Y/N is his favourite dancer at his strip club. His usual Friday night dance turns into something a little more. (6.2k)

WARNINGS: mentions of the mafia and illegal activities, kissing, teasing, swearing, smut; dirty talk, sexual intercourse, spanking, fingering, lap dance.

A/N: This is a rewrite of a very old fic from an old fandom I was in. I’ve edited it the best I can to fit around Azriel’s character, so I apologise in advance if anything appears out of place :) 

Azriel owns a lot of businesses. From stores to hotels, to apartments to clubs. To many, he's a man of business, a man of money. To those aware of the world around them, he's a man of the mafia. Powerful and dangerous. Maybe that's what caught her eye all that time ago, the mysterious aura that bubbled around him.

Y/N's been a dancer at his club since it opened three years ago. It started as a joke between her friends. She was fresh in college and desperately needed a part-time job to pay her bills after she was laid off from the bakery she'd been working at. Callie had mentioned a new strip joint opening on the outskirts of Prythian, that it was a more underground, elite sort of club.

Y/N had laughed it off, joking that she'd look into it and then didn't think of it anymore. But after two weeks of job hunting and no luck, she found herself bumping into a group of young women in a restroom at a bar, and somehow snagged herself an interview at said club.

Eria Vanserra, manager of the club, had hired her the second she opened her mouth and her pretty little voice spoke her name. Y/N was attractive, there was absolutely no doubt in that. She had that look of pure innocence in her eyes, but her lips were wicked. 

The girls had trained her up, taught her the basics on the pole. She's grown close to them, thinks of them as her sisters more than colleagues. They're a team, have each other's backs when new customers try to take advantage and hype each other up for when the regular 60-year-olds come in and request private sessions. 

Y/N -- or rather Angel -- only offers private sessions for one customer: The Boss. They met just over a year into her employment, and it was on their first greeting that Azriel took an instant liking to the devilish dancer, and she took the same approach with him. 

Y/N's been teased for it relentlessly; snickers made from a few of the girls that didn't like how much Azriel liked her, but she didn't care then, and she doesn't care now. Not when every other Friday night, he has her booked for an intimate performance in the back room -- the room that's only ever reserved by him. 

It's been a long week. Classes were cancelled due to some ongoing investigation with one of Y/N's professors, and so she's been able to pick up shifts every night at the club. Shadow's is an elite place, and Y/N knows it. It's a home for the best dancers and the richest of men that sneak off to get their fix. 

It's not a brothel -- at least, not primarily. And none of the girls is ever forced into anything they don't want to do. That's one of the first things Eris made very clear. 

You're here to dance. Private sessions are your own choice, and anything that goes on behind closed curtains is your decision. If you want to offer extra services, the club doesn't touch that money.

Y/N's never been one to stray from the pole. She knows her strengths, and she knows her weaknesses. She's strong, it's obvious, but even the strongest of dancers find it unsettling to be behind a closed curtain with a strange man that clearly can't get much outside of what his money can buy.

The thought unsettles her, but she's never let her own discomfort project on the other girls that spend hours in private rooms with a different man every twenty minutes. They're the real talent, she thinks. Inspiring and badass, and Y/N wishes she had that extra ounce of confidence that they do.

Or at least, she used to wish so. Before she met Azriel -- before he started watching her whenever he stopped by. For two years, she's the only dancer his honey eyes have watched, and something about that knowledge gives Y/N all the confidence she thinks she'll ever need.

Because she's the one that gets under the mafia leaders' skin. His eyes are always on Y/N. She's the one that occupies his mind and tightens his pants from her presence on the pole. It wasn't until almost five months ago that Azriel made a move to ask for a private dance. 

He's done it before, many times. He's had his dick sucked more than he can remember behind those red curtains, but never by a woman as captivating and as talented as her -- his Angel. 

Azriel still remembers the first time he laid eyes on her, upon that risen stage with soft lights offering a halo effect on her silhouette. He saw her hips first, her long legs as she wrapped them around the poll and jutted her ass out deliciously. Then he saw her face -- those angelic eyes and sinful lips, and he knew he was fucked.

He remembers pulling Eris to the side, eyes still on her as he asked who the fuck she was, and why someone so beautiful was working for him. Remembers the way Eris told him her stage name, how it had his cock springing to life in appreciation for the way she moved. 

It all seems like a lifetime ago when he thinks back to it. And while there have been plenty of Friday nights that he frequents the club, he's yet to take things outside of the red room. 

And it's not that he doesn't want to, because he does -- more than he wants a lot of things. But Azriel is a man of honour (even in his line of work), and he's never been one to pressure a woman into something he wants. 

But Angel isn't like any woman. Not to him. 

Azriel deems she's by far the most precious thing he's ever laid eyes on, and he has a need to hold and protect her and show her just how a woman like herself deserves to be treated. 

He could give her the world, and they both know it. 

Tonight is like every other late Friday evening. Y/N's dolled up to the nines as she reapplies her lipstick. She's been at the club since seven, and three dances later and a round of waitressing, it's nearing midnight. Y/N's ready to go to bed. 

She's ready to call it a night, to tell Eris she's heading out early after picking up so many shifts in the week. Not only because she's tired, but also, Azriel hasn't shown up yet, and he's never come this late before. 

Just as Y/N is adjusting her bra straps, she sees Mor’s head pop out through the corner of the door through the mirror. The blonde has a wide grin on her face, and she knows exactly what that suggests. 

"He's here."

Y/N rolls her eyes. "He's also late. My shift ends in ten minutes."

Mor pouts out her lips, shaking her head, and her breasts bounce slightly on her covered chest. "But he's asking for you. And stop pretending like it's such a burden. You love when he shows up, and he loves when you dance for him. We all know it. Quit acting like you don't secretly enjoy it." She bites back, stomping her foot to make her point and Y/N spins in her chair to look at her full on.

Mor raises her brows. "All the other girls would kill to dance for him, to have him ask for them. Myself included. Stop acting like a brat and put on a fucking show."

Y/N isn't given a chance to reply because Mor is sauntering out of the dressing room, and she's left alone to swiftly get ready. She pretends to ignore the rampaging butterflies in her stomach at the idea of seeing him again. 

She's never scared, could never be. Y/N knows Azriel would never hurt her. But, she's nervous. Azriel always gives Y/N his undivided attention when she's dancing for him, and it's intimidating and exciting all at once. His eyes are so dark and calculated, and he's always so damn respectful when she sits on his lap­ -- never wanting to make her uncomfortable. 

Sometimes, Y/N just wants him to take charge. Even knowing exactly what he's capable of, she wants him to take her. Ravish her. Have his way with her. She wants him to completely dominate her, and often, Y/N finds herself wondering what would happen if she riled him up enough to get him to that state. 

If she acted like a brat, would he throw her over his lap and spank her?

If she talked back, would he pull her hair or spit in her mouth?

If she asked for him to touch her, would he grip her ass and kiss her neck?

Y/N's mind swirls with the unanswered questions every time she sees him, and it's getting a bit much to keep to herself. She's getting tired of being a little plaything to him –- not that she has the right to be upset, but she is. 

She doesn't like that he only comes to her every Friday night. To the club. Is she not worth more than two hours a week? 

Then spirals the anxiety.

Is he only coming to her because he thinks she's easy? Is he doing it because he knows he'll never have to do anything more than let her dance? Is he doing it out of pity? Because he thinks she's lonely, so it's to make her feel special? 

Is Azriel even attracted to her, or does he just do it for shits and giggles? Does he go back to his brothers and his men and laugh about her? At her? Is it all a bit of fun to him?

Y/N gets too in her head, and then the idea of seeing him again is revolting. She doesn't know him -- she can't say whether her thoughts are crazy or valid. She doesn't know the kind of person he really is -- despite the rumours. 

But though she goes through these motions, Y/N pushes them to the back of her head and gets on with it. She puts on her smile, and she dances. 

Azriel tends to book her out for an hour at a time, sometimes two hours if he's feeling extra needy or he has the time. And he's generous with his money, too. Typically, he pays double for her time, which is a month's rent for Y/N but pocket change for him.

It makes her feel dirty, but she has to remind herself that actually, this is her job and he does have the money and means to pay for her time.

That's all he's doing -- paying for her time. For her. Like some sort of cheap and easy prostitute that he can go to whenever he needs a fix. And she never touches him (not under his clothes), but it still makes her feel dirty.

Y/N knows what the other girls do in the private rooms; the type of shows that they offer. She doesn't judge them, she could never. They're all in the same or similar boats: broke and trying to make a living, to make ends meet. But none of them dance for the owner. None of them are ever requested by him. 

Y/N takes a deep breath and composes herself. She can't look in the mirror for a moment longer because if she does, she'll start seeing every flaw she has, and she'll never leave the damn dressing room. 

The club is busy, it always is on a Friday night. There's a party in the upper left tier, a few dancers that have been hired for the night and Y/N is more than pleased that she wasn't booked for it. It's a bunch of frat boys celebrating one of their friend's birthdays, and from Y/N's place on the lower deck, she can already recognise a few familiar faces from her classes.

The last thing she needs is for people to know she's an erotic dancer at one of the most elite, secret clubs. 

She doesn't bother questioning how the younger men know about the place. 

Y/N makes her way toward the private booths, and the one to the far right has its curtains closed. She takes a deep breath, knows he's sitting behind it, waiting for her.

She doesn't give herself any time to hype herself up or change her mind, because she's pushing through the red velvet curtain and closing it behind her. 

The booths are all the same. Dim lighting and velvet cushioned seats. The walls are deep, silky pink, the furniture all an intoxicating shade of red, and in the centre of the rounded chair, Azriel sits. 

His legs are spread wide, dressed to the nines in a slick black suit, and his bulging arms are outstretched across the back of the chair. 

He's shed his blazer, has it hanging on the side, his shirt sleeves folded up to his elbows, swirls of black ink coating his dark complexion. Everything about his attire screams power and sex, and Y/N hasn't even looked at his face yet. 

"There’s my pretty girl."

Her eyes dart up, his lips are parted. There's a knowing smirk on his pink mouth, and Azriel's eyes are a glimmering caramel under the dim light. Y/N thinks he's never looked more handsome, but that's always her thought whenever she sees him.

She can't help the contagiously shy smile that tugs on the corners of her plump lips. 

"Little late tonight," she mentions quietly. 

He doesn't say anything, and his eyes are too busy taking in her appearance. He hasn't seen this outfit before; a lilac cami bodysuit, entirely of lace. The chest of it is plunged yet lifted, and her supple breasts look the most inviting they've ever been.

Azriel struggles to wrap his head around the sight of her -- he always does. Always thinks she looks even prettier every time he sees her.

Azriel finally shrugs his shoulders. "I'm a busy man, Angel. Thought you knew that by now." He doesn't take his eyes off her, he can't.

Completely fucking mesmerised.

Y/N shrugs. "Must've been extra busy to be this late." She tells him.

Y/N is making her way closer, her hips swaying with every small step and Azriel's sure he can feel his cock twitch in his pants from anticipation.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to come."

He raises a brow as she settles herself in his lap, his scarred hands–that she’s never shown any distaste to–slowly yet respectfully finding her waist.

"Oh, I always come, baby."

She knows there's a double meaning to his statement — can tell by the smirk on his lips and the tone of his voice. Always a smooth talker.

Y/N decides that if he can play, so can she. 

"I wouldn't know."

Azriel's the one to stop her hips from moving on top of his, and he chases her gaze to lock eyes. She's deadpanning -- void of emotion on her pretty little face and Azriel thinks this newfound side of her is the sexiest thing he's witnessed in a long time.

He cocks a brow. "Playing like that tonight, are we?" He asks, his thumbs pressing into the fleshy skin of her side.

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, plays coy. "I don't know. Are we?"

She twists the question, unsure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but she isn't about to back down from it, from him.

She wants more than just a lap dance. She thinks Azriel does too.

Azriel stays quiet for a moment or two like he's toying with the idea of having his way with her -- of letting her have him.

He squints and tries to look for an ounce of uncertainty or hesitancy. He comes empty, finding nothing short of confidence and desire. But has she thought it all through?

Has she thought about what this could mean? Has she accepted the fact that they may never see each other again -- something so silly because Azriel quite likes the girl, but if he kisses her, touches her -- what if it inherently puts her in danger?

She senses his dismay and offers an ultimatum; one that she knows she'll win. 

"Because either we are, or you need to find a new dancer."  

The threat awakens something in him. Something primal — animalistic. His eyes flash, darker and darker until his swelling pupils almost completely drown out the honey in his eyes.

His grip on her hips tighten, and Azriel forces her closer; lace-clad chest bumping against his clothed one. "I don't want a new dancer." He tells her. His voice is firm, tone even and stable. He knows what he wants, and now, she knows it's her.

Y/N lets her fingers reach for the longer curls on the nape of his neck. She intertwines her fingers around them, generously tugging, so his head pulls back just enough for her to use her other hand to grip his chin. Azriel's lips are parted, eyes hooded. He can feel her breath fan across his face as she brings hers closer.

"But that's all I am to you, right? Just a dancer?"

He isn't sure what she's doing -- whether she's fishing for something more or if she's about to walk out of the booth and leave him panting and painfully hard.

He plays into it, though. Let's see where this is going.

"More than just a dancer, baby." He promises.

Y/N ghosts her plump lips over his. "Yeah?" She breathes, her voice an airy whisper and Azriels got the perfect fucking sight of her cleavage. Reckons he wants nothing more than to bury his face between her pert tits.

He nods. "Mhm, you're my Angel." He tells her.

Azriel's hands reach around for her ass, grabbing handfuls and pulling her cheeks taut. He removes his hand and strikes it back down on her warm, fleshy skin. Y/N jolts into his body, teeth gnawing painfully on her lower lip to bite back her desperate pleads and whines.

Azriel gropes her again, massaging her cheeks and grabbing fistfuls. "My Angel."

His. She's all fucking his.

Her breathing is laboured as she takes in his words. Y/N tries not to let him see how riled up they make her, but she knows Azriel can see straight through any facade she tries to hide behind.

"Well, if I'm an angel, that must make you the devil."

Y/N's words echo through his mind, and his grip on her waist tightens in a squeeze before it loosens. His eyes find her chest, lip taut between his teeth.

"Maybe I am. Tell me, Angel… are you really ready to be corrupted?"

His eyes find hers, low and hooded and full of so much excitement and darkness, he gets lost in the way she pulls him in. Y/N's hands find his on her waist, her fingers gripping over his and his hold tightens again.

She rolls her hips against his crotch. "Maybe that's exactly what I want," she whispers, her lips trailing over the shell of his ear and her warm breath fans across his neck. "Maybe I'm already a little wicked."

She pulls away, nose brushing past his but he doesn't let her put any more distance between them. He wants her close, likes the feel of her warm breath on his face, likes the sweet scent of vanilla and coconut that's splattered on her skin and lingers in his mind.

Her lips are parted, as is Azriel's, and he can see the little peek of her glistening tongue, teetering between her teeth. His own does the same, subconsciously matching her teasing and his length throbs beneath her; something they both feel but neither say.

"If we do this, there's no going back. You're not just a fuck to me."

Y/N's heart skips, her heat quivering and chills run down her spine. So she is more to him... but what will this mean after?

"If I'm not just a fuck, then what am I?" She pries.

Azriel nudges the tip of his nose with hers. A smirk ghosts on the corners of her lips as they brush against hers. "My Angel," he whispers. "My only Angel."

Y/N envelopes Azriel's lips in hers, fingers reaching for the back of his head and they tug at the curls on the nape of his neck. It's hot, fiery. She can feel her soul ignite in bursts of white flames, and Azriel's no better at controlling himself.

His mind is foggy, judgement clouded, but he knows he never wants to live a day without feeling her pillowy lips on his. So he kisses her harder, grips her hips with such force they both know she'll bruise by morning. But she loves it, loves the idea of having him mark her and the animalistic part of Azriel craves it too.

"I'm not gonna go easy on you." He warns her breathlessly through the smacking of lips, but Y/N rolls more rigid atop him; pulls his hair that little bit eager.

"Good," she pants, pulling away. "I want it hard."

Y/N stands between his thick, parted thighs. She lets her mouth water as her gaze takes him in. Azriel's no better. His cock is leaping eagerly in his pants at the sight of her. Perfect body in a perfect set, lips swollen and eyes wholly fucked. Her hair is a mess, lipstick smudged and fuck, does he want to shove her face into his silk pillows and ram her little pussy from behind until she can't breathe.

"You're gonna kill me, Angel." He chokes out through his lust-filled daydream, chest heaving in anticipation.

Then she starts to sink to her knees and rubs her palms up his inner thighs, and Azriel about loses it. He shakes his head, breathing hard through gritted teeth and his hands find her wrists, halting her movements.

He shakes his head as he pulls Y/N to her feet, dragging closer until she's straddling him again. Azriel's hands cup her jaw, fingers tangled in her hair. "Gonna take my time with you, have you squirming beneath me until you beg me to stop." His promise has her drooping eyes flutter close, and her lips parting. Thinks she's the sexiest thing he's ever laid eyes on.

His nose bumps hers, lips touching but they don't kiss. "But right now, I need you to be a good girl and turn around." 

Azriel's voice is stern, commanding. It makes her pussy throb and clench and gush, and he knows it. She nods and moves on trembling legs, turning so her back is to him, and Azriel's hands find their home on the swell of her ass.

There's something about him being so strong and dominant to her that has Y/N a puddle of arousal and submission.

She bites back a squeak as he smacks a palm down on her cheek, her eyes squinted closed while Azriel licks his lips at the way her flesh moves with the force of his strike. "Perfect fucking ass."

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip, teeth piercing the skin but the slight sting of pain only spurs her on -- makes her even more eager for him. She sways her hips, ass a perfect peach shape as she does so and Azriel grips her hips and forces her on his crotch.

Her arousal is sticky against the lace of her panties as she can feel the thick outline of Azriel's cock when she gets seated over his clothed centre.

"Holy shit," she gulps.

Y/N has heard the rumours, the ones that are whispered in the shadows of the night -- of the one that's half man, half something else.

Now she can feel him directly beneath her, and Y/N's mind is heavy and clouded. "Feel how hard you make me?"

His lips are ghosting across her ear; teeth nibbling hauntingly on the shell of it which sends shivers down her spine.

Y/N nods, breathless and wanton. She can't make sense of anything, but she knows she wants this -- needs this.

"Use your words."

She swallows, shaky whimper teetering on the tip of her tongue. "Yes, I can feel you."

Azriel's sick behind her; full of himself as she strokes his ever-growing ego. There's something about hearing her so vocally express how much she wants him, how much she can feel him that has Azriel seeing stars. He isn't blind, he can see just how desperate and hungry the woman is, but a little verbal confirmation never hurt anyone.

His hands rest upon the globes of her ass again, swatting and smoothing however he pleases. The hits have her jolting and shrieking — they have tears stinging at her eyes but fuck, she wants more. She needs it harder.

"Please," she coos softly.

Her voice is cracking and unsteady like she's walking on eggshells.

"Please." Azriel mimics, voice high and childish, one that has her squirming in his lap.

He spanks her again. "Please, what?"

There's a pause of silence as Y/N attempts to catch her breath. She knows what this man can do to her, how he can make her feel. She knows he'll be far from vanilla, and maybe that's exactly what she wants and needs.

"Please, sir." She breathes. "Fuck me."

Smack!

A shrill shriek tears through her chest, and Azriel strikes his palm back down on her skin. His other busies with his belt, tugging it open and popping the button of his pants. He drags down the zip, a sound that echoes through her ears and sends shivers down her spine.

Y/N looks back over her shoulder, her hands steadying herself on Azriel's parted knees when she sees him. Thick, long... oozing with his sweet arousal that she wants to suckle up and swallow down her throat.

His cock stands tall, smacking against his lower stomach and he's big -- better than anything Y/N's ever had before. Her mouth waters at the sight. She can feel her cunt pulsing when his scarred hand wraps around his length and tugs deliciously at himself.

She whines, eager and needy. Azriel's eyes are on her ass, hasn't even realised that she's looking back at him.

He toys with the lace of her panties that disappears between her cheeks. Looping his pointer finger under the fabric at the top of her ass, he lifts it and bunches the lace in a fist, effectively tugging friction across her cunt as he gets a better view of her ass.

She's glistening, he can see. Y/N's pussy is swollen, and the sides of her lips threaten to spill out of the fabric that barely covers her.

"I'll fuck you, baby." He tells her.

Azriel tugs the lace to the side, her pussy soaked and perfect. He swipes a thumb through her wetness, swirling around her tight hole and bringing his thumb to his mouth as he suckles her arousal.

Sweet. So fucking sweet.

He grasps his cock in his hand again, pumping a few ample times before holding himself at the base and lining up with her sopping cunt. Azriel teases her for a moment, smacking the ruddy head of his prick against her pussy and she whines, rolls closer to him.

With a sick grin, Azriel massages his tip against her hole, jutting softly as he pushes in just enough to get comfortable. A low whine echoes through the room, but neither of them knows who it belongs to.

His hands find her hips, squeezing at her flesh. "But you won't be dancing on that pole for a few days."

Lifting his hips and pulling her down by hers, Azriel sheathes into her at once. Her frantic gasp tears through her lips, and her eyes are wide and watering with complete bliss and pain.

Azriel's gritting his teeth, sharp breath spitting through between them. He can't believe how fucking tight she is, and Y/N is fairly confident she can feel him so deep in her fucking stomach.

"Such a tight fucking cunt, Angel." Azriel's mind is in turmoil, can't quite fucking believe a cunt can feel this good.

Y/N is no better; she's a quivering mess on top of him, her grip on his clothed knees surely carving half-moons upon his skin but if it's causing Azriel any pain or discomfort, he seems to love it.

"So big, feel so full," she whines out.

Her ass is nestled in his lap, the coarse hairs of his pubic bone tickling at her supple skin and Y/N rolls her hips experimentally against his. He's still gripping her hips as she moves, her cunt clenching deliciously around his length and he's positively amazed by just how fucking tight she is.

"Yeah? Feel me in your tummy, Angel?" 

She's nodding, whining filthily, and she can't comprehend how sex can feel this good. One hand of Azriel's snakes around her body, tips of his fore and middle finger massaging tight circles on her clit.

Y/N's cunt is on fire, swelling and pulsing and fucking gushing all over the thickness of Azriel's entire dick. He's a mess below her, though. He can't believe how well she's taking the entirety of him.

She's snug, tight — warm and fucking soaked. The feeling of her swallowing him up is completely euphoric; has Azriel's eyes rolling to the back of his head.

His rhythm on her clit is furious; strong, tight circles that have filthy cries and moans slipping past her flawlessly painted lips. Y/N's still gripping his knees, hips rolling and pussy squelching.

"Yeah, right in my tummy. God, it's so good. Don't stop, Azzy... please don't stop."

Y/N is a blubbering mess, eyes squeezed shut and jaw slack. She bounces quickly on top of him, feeling every vein and ridge of his thick cock as it pounds into her and tears her apart. Her walls are slick around him, desperate to milk him dry and take his sticky cum.

Azriel lets his eyes focus on her ass, the way it's spread just a little and how the imprint of his ringed hands are starting to bloom on her supple cheeks. Azriel's eyes divert lower when he sees it, sees her take him.

Her lips are swollen, clinging to his length as she comes off him. The base of his cock is soaked, the start of a creamy ring forming around him and Azriel can't get enough. He relents his assault on her clit, makes for her ass instead and pulls her cheeks as far apart as he can. 

His hands massage her skin, saliva welling on his tongue and parting his gritted teeth for a split second, he spits down on her puckering hole and rubs the lubricant across her ass.

Y/N keens at the touch -- the welcomed intrusion -- and bounces faster. Azriel's thumbing at her hole, teasingly rubbing the tip of his thumb around her but it has her a quivering and desperate mess.

"Please, please." She pants out, head falling back and eyes tightly shut.

Azriel gnaws on his lower lip, biting back a smirk, but his hooded eyes are a dead giveaway he's having the time of his life. "Yeah?" He rasps. "Want me in both your holes, Princess?" He baits. He knows it's exactly what she wants.

Y/N nods quickly, crying and pleading for something. He knows precisely the effect he's got on her right now, the power Azriel holds over her, (not that he sees it that way, but knowing she's in such a besotted state from him playing with her ass a little, is feeding Azriel's ego tremendously.)

"Now that's not very Angel-like of you, is it? Angel?"

A shriek leaves her lips as the tip of his finger pushes through, immediately enveloped in warmth and softness. She's blubbering, can't make sense of fucking anything and it feels so damn good.

Azriel never anticipated such a reaction from her, but he's got it, and he fucking loves it.

"Who would've thought," he pants, feet firm on the ground as he fucks up into her cunt, completely obliterating her soul, "that my Angel likes having her sweet little ass stuffed?"

A borderline pornographic cry teeters past her silky tongue, and Azriel's mind is keening. She's still as she hovers over his crotch, letting him fuck her however he damn well pleases. His pace is fast, cock brushing every overwhelming part it reaches as he pushes his thumb deeper into her ass.

"Your Angel," she whimpers out, eyes watering and thighs spasming. "I'm yours, all yours. Only want you stuffing me this good."

Her words are drawled in a matted string of barely comprehendible syllables, but Azriel can understand what she's saying.

"Yeah? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, sweetheart."

"Cum! Please, cum in me, wanna feel it."

Azriel curses silently behind her, can't believe how fucking perfect this woman is. His balls feel tight, can feel her squeezing him harder and he knows she's about to come too.

"Yeah? It's gonna be a lot baby," he warns. "Think you can handle it? Think you can take my cum, Angel?"

Y/N nods quickly, vigorously. "I can take it! Please, I promise."

She's despondent, like a child. The need in her voice spurs Azriel to his edge, and as his cock bloats and shoots his arousal across her walls, she reaches her own high of euphoria.

They're both panting, grunting and moaning and whining. Y/N's gushing around his cock, creating a decent spillage on the base of him but even as he softens, he's still quite hard.

Azriel doesn't move, no. He makes no endeavour of pushing her off him. Instead, Azriel slowly pulls his fingers from her ass and cooing at the winces and whimpers that resound through the private booth. He shelters his arms around her waist to pull her back flush to his chest.

They both whimper, bodies spent, and eyes hooded. The back of Y/N's head is lounging on his shoulder when Azriel finally gets a glimpse at her face.

Totally fucked.

A wheezing laugh rumbles deep in her chest, and he reaches for her face, cupping the side of her jaw and guiding her lips to meet his in a messy, wet kiss. She pulses around him.

"You're fucking phenomenal."

Another breathy snicker falls past her lips to his. Azriel pinches her hips. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N puffs, eyes fluttering as she slowly raises, bites back the whine she wants to pout at the hollow feeling of him slipping from her cunt.

"The big bad Mob boss wants to know how I'm feeling?" She tantalises.

Azriel watches her make quick work of pulling her panties back over her cunt, halting his cum from leaking out and down her thighs, but he makes no effort to tuck his softening, yet still majestic, length back in his pants.

He lies back with his arms outstretched across the back of the oval couch. "He does," he agrees. "Cares about you, if you didn't already recognise that."

Azriel doesn't miss how she shies away from his gaze, turning her back to him to alter her outfit and to take a moment to compose herself. He takes the opportunity to fix himself too, before he's right behind her, nosing at her hair.

"I meant what I said, Angel," he murmurs. "You're not just a fuck to me."

Y/N turns, chin raised as she eyes him. Her shoulders are strained back, and Azriel knows she's making this posture move to assert confidence, and he doesn't doubt her one bit.

"Then what am I? And don't say your Angel."

"You're a strong, elegant, smart, badass, sexy, intelligent, confident woman," he begins, his hands finding her hips. "And I want you. I want you all to myself."

She peeps, her heart thumping sporadically in her chest. For a moment, it's like the mind-blowing sex from just seconds ago has been utterly omitted.

"You trust me enough for that?" She asks, and Azriel knows precisely what she's asking.

Does he trust her with who he is and what he does? Does he have trust that she will keep her mouth shut and not see him differently when she learns what he's truly capable of? Does he trust that she's all about him?

Azriel quirks a brow. "Do you trust me?"

Does she trust him with her life, because that's what it boils down to? Does she trust him enough to put her life in perpetual danger? Does she trust that he will only desire her, that he will put her before his work? Does she trust that he will never harm her?

Y/N nods. "I trust you."

Azriel drops his head, face closer to hers and the tips of their noses brush.

"Then I advise you to get your things and let me take you back to my place. Because you're in for a long fucking night, Angel."

Thank you for reading!! If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a reblog and leaving some feedback!! <3

[lovemebutleavemewild]

Oh lord the mafia price and pregnant one!!! Maybe one where she tries to go back to work after they move in? Or literally anything else🙏🏻

This got a bit long haha, but enjoy!

(Part 1 here and part 2 here)

You are not in a relationship.

You'd told John, that night after he'd found you in the restaurant, that you were more than happy to have him involved with the baby but that you didn't need him or anyone else. You could do it all on your own, if you needed to.

And he'd agreed with you. Or, at least, he'd told you he agreed. You start to notice, though, that things tended to go his way in the end, so subtly, you barely noticed at first.

The first time you'd taken him to a prenatal appointment, at the free clinic near your apartment, he'd sat with a muscle jumping in his jaw for the entire, very long, wait.

A week later he'd picked you up unexpectedly after a breakfast shift and, under the pretence of going for lunch, driven you to shiny high-rise office building.

"No harm in getting a second opinion, love," he'd assured you as he ushered you into the elevator and pushed the button for "Dr Gail Brady, OB/GYN."

You'd gone along with that one, on the basis that it was better for the baby, and you'd reluctantly let John pay, not even wanting to think what an hour of time with Dr Brady would cost.

There are some things you won't compromise on, of course, but he finds ways around those too. You'd refused to let him move you out of your apartment, for one. He hadn't fought you on it but you weren't stupid—you'd noticed a constant flow of men parked across the street as you came and went and you were sure John had put them there to keep an eye on you. And you had given in and let him change your locks, in the end.

Your latest "discussion" had been about your job. Or rather, your jobs. John had almost had a conniption when he'd found out tht your job at the diner was only part-time—the rest of the time, you waitress at a different, more high-end restaurant across town.

"I need to save as much as I can now, before the baby comes," you'd insisted.

"You don't need either of 'em, never mind two," John had told you, raking his hands through his hair, at which point you'd given up on the conversation. It became a point of contention, one you both tiptoed around, neither one of you willing to admit defeat.

So when your alarm goes off, at stupid o'clock in the morning, the answering groan doesn't come from your lips but from behind you.

And, okay, maybe someone who isnt your boyfriend shouldn't spend so many nights in your bed, but you have to allow yourself some indulgences.

John automatically pulls you back into his chest before you can attempt to get up, practically rolling on top of you, though he's careful not to put much of his weight on you.

"John, I have to get to work, I'm on breakfasts," you complain but he just grumbles into your neck.

"Call in sick."

"I can't," you try to tell him, but by then his hands have drifted down your, toying with the string of your sleep shorts.

"Got a spare 10 minutes then?" he asks and you feel him then, starting to grind into your back, and you give in with a moan just as his hand dips below your waistband.

You're late to work that day and you scowl at John in the car (he never lets you take the train anymore), but he just keeps a hand on your thigh, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

And, over the next few weeks, if you notice a sudden new influx of customers, who always ask to sit in your section, are polite, and tip very generously, well that's just good timing. The new uptick in your income means you can quit your extra gig after a while and even cut down your hours in your main job.

Of course, John is adamant he has no idea who any of these people are, no clue where your new, generous benefactors have come from.

These days, he just turns off your alarm every morning with a glint in his eye, as he tells you he has better ways for you to use your time.

[im-sleepdeprived]

Can you write something about co-workers to friends to lovers?

fix you up

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: i won’t lie to y’all idk how i feel abt this one. its cute dgmw but i hope you guys like it !!! ive had this request for an EMBARRASSINGLY long time, anon if you’re upset, i totally understand

warnings: mentions of injuries, burns, rude customers, bandaging some wounds n stuff, fluff and pining !!! (disclaimer: I’ve never been a barista so forgive me if this is a lil off)

masterlist, requests are open !!

Working in a rustic-vintage-corner-campus-cafe was definitely not how you saw your college years going. Your teen self would’ve killed to work at a place like this but when you grew up, you realized just how different the workload is between a high school student and a uni one such as yourself. 

You weren’t complaining of course. The pay was adequate, your manager was a simple old lady who never had much to say other than making sure all the equipment was clean, you got along with your coworkers pretty well for the most part and the customers were tolerable. 

But every once in a while, you’d get an entitled shithead who seemed to make it their life’s mission to ruin someone else’s day. And the problem with working a social job such as you did, is that you were an easy target. 

It started off as a fairly simple day, you clocked in and put on your apron ready to start your shift for the day. You preferred late morning shifts, leaving afternoons for classes (and the rouge 8am lecture every now and then) and nights for going out or studying. 

“Oh, Y/N! Thank god you're here,” Your co-worker, Vanessa, exclaimed.

Vanessa was a few years older than you. She actually wasn’t a student, she’d given college a try and it wasn’t her thing. Apparently, all it did was “try to undermine unstoppable greatness.” She was chatty, but you actually liked that about her. She could keep up a conversation with a statue. When you first started off here she’d been the one to show you the ropes and ever since then, you’d had a specific bond with her that you couldn’t really put a name to.

You gave her a small smile, “Yeah well, I do prefer to show up when promised. Especially when my paycheck depends on it,” you let out a small laugh.

“Yes! See, that's what I love about you,” she made a disgusted face, “Unlike Peter. Honestly, I don't understand how he hasn’t been fired yet! He shows up at least half an hour late to every shift yet Miss Hannigan still keeps him around.”

“Oh,” you stuttered, raising your hands a little in defense, “I didn't mean it as a jab at Peter, I swear.”

She tossed a curled blonde lock of hair over her shoulders while waving her other hand in dismissal, “Honey, don’t worry about it. I know you would never, you’re far too sweet for that. But I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know, having to work more than half your shift alone? I swear if Bernard did that to me,” she made a big show of gesturing to herself, "I would not deal with it.”

While what she was saying wasn’t necessarily wrong, it didn’t feel right talking about Peter like that. Sure, he was late most of the time, leaving you to do most of the work while you waited for him to show up (somehow when he started working you two got the same shift together and it’s just been that way ever since) and while you, also, normally wouldn’t put up with this, there was something different about Peter. You never felt like he was taking advantage of you, and purposefully made you pick up extra slack. It was quite the opposite actually, he always apologized profusely and never slacked when he was on the clock. He always seemed so rushed and out of breath, you were pretty sure the poor boy just needed to learn how to manage time better. Plus, he always took it upon himself to unpack the orders because of all the heavy lifting required (you couldn’t tell just by looking at him, with all the sweaters he wore, but man was he ripped.)

“He’s actually really sweet.” You’re not sure why exactly you’re so keen on defending Peter. You two barely spoke, outside of work of course, and you don’t know much about him. But something inside you didn’t like anyone assuming anything bad about him. 

“Yea, well, he’d be a ton sweeter if he clocked in on time,” she laughed as she untied her apron, getting ready to leave. You faked a laugh as well, not wanting the conversation to progress any further. 

“Alrighty, well,” she heaved a breath, “I'm off, have a good rest of your day Y/N.”

You smiled once again and sent a wave her way before settling down in front of the register. It was slow today, not many people in the shop. A fellow student you only recognized from work sat in a corner booth with their headphones locked in and was working on what seemed to be some kind of essay. 

There was an older woman, however, looking incredibly irritated at the table closest to you. You’d never seen her before but that wasn’t too strange. It was a near-campus cafe, after all, lots of people passing through. She looked to be typing on her phone until, suddenly, she shut it off and made direct eye contact with you. 

If looks could kill, you would’ve dropped dead behind the counter, which wouldn’t be all that ideal considering you couldn’t remember the last time anyone mopped that side of the store. 

She stood up and walked towards you and you already dreaded the conversation to come.

“I have an order,” she spit out, as if she were disgusted to even be talking to you at the moment. 

No greeting or anything, wow. Someone wasn’t raised right. 

Nonetheless, you put on your well-rehearsed customer service smile and gave in. “Sure, I’d be happy to help with that. Can you just give me the order?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I shouldn’t have to, I called in and placed it and it should be ready by now. I'm going to be late!”

You froze for a moment, not quite sure what to do, “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience ma’am, but I just got here and I haven’t heard anything,” you glance at the little whiteboard kept on the counter for these exact situations only to find it empty, “and I don’t see anything here about a phone-placed order. Are you sure you have the right store?”

Her face was so red and steam was practically blowing out of her ears, “Of course, I have the right store! Do you think I'm stupid or something?”

“No! Of course not, I'm so sorry,” you start to blabber off, not wanting to make her any angrier than she already was, “I’ll get things ready for you right away ma’am.”

You turned around and tried to make yourself not freak out as badly as you wanted to. It was so humiliating getting yelled at like this in public! And yeah, maybe if you had such a problem with unpleasant interactions like this, you shouldn't have taken a social job such as this one, but honestly, you thought people would have enough manners not to act up like this. Apparently not. 

It slipped your mind for a moment because of how scrambled you got when the lady flipped her lid, but Vanessa has been known to do this, forget to write down orders and leave you to fend for yourself (quite literally since your coworker was never really around) and you’re pretty sure that’s what happened here. Other customers were usually more understanding than this woman bordering on Kathy-Bates-movie-character-insanity over a drink order. 

You reached into your back pocket, deciding you’d try to send her a hurried text about any phone calls she might remember. That just seemed to anger your customer more.

“Excuse me?! I'm sitting here waiting for my order and you're too busy chatting away on your phone?”

You lose yourself for a moment and you can’t feel your face anymore. 

“I am so sorry ma’am,” you repeat, which seems to be your mantra since you started working today, “I was just checking to see if-,”

“I don't care what you were checking, or what you need to see! Give me what I paid for,” her hand started smacking against the counter loud enough for the only other person in the store to look up, broken from their reverie. They merely shot you an apologetic look before getting back to their work, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“You have terrible customer service, honestly. I come here every Tuesday with my book club, but never again. If I don’t get exactly what I asked for in the next five minutes, I'm calling your boss and not leaving until I'm sure you’re fired.” 

You shake your head, “There’s no need to do that ma’am, I'll get everything ready for you.”

You turned around once again, this time, heading towards the cappuccino machine. You’re not sure why you said that considering you have no clue what ‘everything’ is that has to get ready. 

In all honesty, there’s a low chance that a suburban-white-soccer-mom type would have any real effect on your employment. Miss Hannigan would surely not fire you just because some order forgot to be written down and some customer got pissed. Right?

But you really didn’t want to find out. 

So, you started up the machine and turned to grab a cup. Today, apparently, was just doomed from the start. As you turned to grab one of the cups placed on the shelf over the machine, your hand hit the button that turned on the steam wand. Which was aimed directly at your other hand. 

You bit down the yelp that threatened to escape and jumped back, the back of your hand now searing with pain. Instinctively, your other hand came to cup your injured one, which only made it worse. You fought back tears as you moved to turn the steam back off. 

Inhaling deeply, you took a moment to try to get your mind working again. “Hello?!” Of course. You turned your head and gave her the fakest smile you’ve ever mustered in your whole life. “One minute ma’am.”

You could hear her going off about how she doesn’t have a minute to spare, but you ignored her, trying to think of what the hell you could give her to just get her out of your face. You’d have to guess her order since I wasn’t actually taken. You’d started playing a game with yourself since you worked here, guessing people's drink orders, and you’d say you’ve gotten pretty good. 

You peeked a look back at her. You’d had customers around her age come in before and order, for the most part, the same thing. A plain cappuccino. Seemed like a safe bet.

Swallowing down the pain as best you could, you approached the machine again. This time, taking out the portafilter. It must’ve not been put in correctly because it clattered to the ground, coffee grinds falling around the floor. 

You wanted to cry. Your hand hurt like hell, there was a new mess to deal with, and that lady hadn’t stopped complaining since you stepped in. 

Frozen, you began to panic a little, breaths coming out sporadically. You’d leave the sweeping for later, but you had to clean the filter so you could use it because it was the only one. And the slightest brush of air made your hand burn even more. You had no clue how to go about this. Maybe if you-

Like an angel, Peter rushed in through the side door. Tying his apron around his waist, he looked towards you. Your hand flew up to your mouth at his perfect timing and you saw his expression grow more concerned. 

He rushed towards you. “What happened?” And for a second, you forget everything that was stressing you out just a few moments before. He grabbed your hand so gently, you forgot every ounce of pain. 

“I cannot believe this!” She wasn’t giving up and you shut your eyes in frustration, turning to reply to her again. But before you can open your mouth, Peter steps in. “Hold on, can’t you clearly see she’s hurt?”

She scoffed and crossed her arms, “That’s her fault. If she knew how to do her job, it wouldn’t have happened.”

You could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. His expression hardened and his mouth opened to shoot something back at her, but this time, you cut him off. You placed your non-injured hand on his shoulder and gave him a look. 

He stared at you for a few seconds before finally giving in, blowing out some air in a frustrated huff. “Go wait for me inside,” he told you, nodding his head toward the employees-only backroom. 

“What?” You asked confused. You didn’t wanna leave him alone. 

“You’re not working right now, there’s no way I’m letting you. I’ll deal with her. Go, I’ll be right there,” he said, shoving you away gently.

Once you heard that he’d be following you, you were more willing. You walked through the door and took a seat at the table usually used for meal breaks. The ‘break room’ was a small room positioned in the back of the store. You can’t remember what this place used to be (a diner maybe?) but this specific room was used as an office, but Miss Hannigan claimed she had no use for an office so it was used for employee breaks. 

Every ounce of you was grateful for Peter’s Superman moment back there. He came in today earlier than usual and he’d totally saved your ass. You were going to make sure to tell him. 

You weren’t waiting long before the door opened again and Peter walked in, holding a backpack you hadn’t seen on him before. In his other hand, he held a drink. He placed the drink on the table before he grabbed one of the chairs, bringing it close to yours, and you turned your body to face him. 

He picked up your hand again, just as gently as before. “Alright,” he let out a breath of relief, “it’s not as bad as I thought, but, it’s still gonna take a while to heal. Wait,” he leaned over, unzipping his bag and taking supplies out while you just stared at him.

“I thought you majored in biochemistry.” You blurted out. Your face heated up a little when he looked at you curiously.

“I- I saw your textbooks once when you left your bag open. And I’ve seen you around campus, near the science-y buildings…and stuff.” You shrugged and he chuckled. 

“I do,” he nodded, “any medical stuff is self-taught. I get into a lot of…accidents.”

“Oh.” You nodded at him. What kind of accidents would he get into? You’d never seen him hurt, but what did you know. 

“I take it you don’t major in anything science-y,” he said, grinning at you.

You shook your head, “No, I don’t. But I have a chemistry class I have to take for credit. Which makes no sense because chemistry has nothing to do with what I want to learn.”

He laughed and set his bag back down, everything he needed was now laid out on the table. “Okay,” he picked up a white tube with red lettering on it. “This is gonna help with pain and scarring. I’m going to spread some of this, then wrap it up for you.” You looked at the table and saw he’d also taken out some white gauze. What kind of ‘accidents’ did he get into?

You nodded, at a complete loss for words. You had no idea Peter knew so much about injuries and you were so thankful he was helping you out. You didn’t hate each other, but you weren’t close either.

He applied a small amount to the back of your hand, asking you constantly if you were okay as he rubbed it on softly. Honestly, even if it did hurt, you wouldn’t have the heart to tell him.

He finished up with the cream and moved onto the gauze, expertly wrapping it up to lightly cover your wound. When he was finished with that, he carefully tied it off, making sure not to tie it too tight.

“There,” he leaned back and smiled at you, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “All fixed up.”

 “Thank you, Peter, really.” You reluctantly pulled your hand back into your lap, missing the warmth of his fingers wrapped around it.

“You don’t need to thank me Y/N, it’s the least I could do. I’m just glad I got here earlier than usual.”

You nodded and looked down. “Well thanks anyway, you saved my ass back there. Seriously, I have no idea what’s wrong with me today but I kept fucking everything up.”

“Hey,” he said softly, making you look up and meet his gaze. “You didn’t fuck anything up. Okay? You made a few mistakes, but that's not your fault. She shouldn’t have been treating you like that, especially when you’d hurt yourself.” He looked away and scoffed as he remembered the terrible customer that had ruined your morning. You would’ve felt extremely touched by his care if it weren’t for his next words.

“All that for a plain fucking cappuccino.” He mumbled.

“A plain cappuccino? Really?” You asked excitedly, forgetting about everything, and grinning at him wildly. 

“Um, yeah…why?” He asked you, confusion was written all over his face, but he couldn’t help his own smile slightly growing when he noticed your enthusiasm.

“Nothing,” you shook your head quickly, smile never fading, “I just…well, I play this game with myself where I guess people's drink orders. And I think I’m getting pretty good because that’s exactly what I was going to make her before you walked in.”

He laughed out loud and you joined in. “What’s my order?” He asked. 

You paused for a moment. “A caramel macchiato with extra caramel.”

He looked at you for a bit, “Close,” he admitted. “It used to be.”

“So are you gonna tell me what it is now?”

Shaking his head, he leaned over the table and dragged the drink he’d brought in earlier in front of you. “Here,” he changed the subject, “I made you this.”

You’d completely forgotten about it, and when you took a closer look, you realized it was your coffee order. 

Your mouth fell open, “How’d you know?”

He just shrugged, smiling slightly. He knew it was your favorite, but the confirmation was still nice. “I've seen you make it for yourself. Educated guess.”

“Oh my god,” you said, voice soft. It was a simple thing really, you had one most days at the end of your shift. But the fact that he’d noticed… It just meant a lot. “Thank you so much, Peter.”

He just waved you off, his smile growing when he noticed your reaction to the drink. He couldn’t believe he got a chance to speak to you. Truly speak to you. He was always too awkward or embarrassed or trying to avoid embarrassment. But now, while he didn’t like the circumstances that led you both here, he was actually talking to you. And it was nice.

“So,” he started, not wanting this to end just yet, “you said you’ve got a chemistry class?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, picking up your drink and taking a sip. “The one with Professor Hall. I actually have a class after this shift. I totally suck though, and he hates me. I just don’t get it, and he doesn’t explain it well!”

Peter nodded, completely understanding what you meant. It was a tough subject to begin with, and he knew not everyone was as into science as he was, add onto that a teacher who doesn’t really teach, it’s a recipe for disaster. 

“I actually had that class. Last year. I can help you, sometimes. If you’d like me to, that is!” He rushed out. Great, he thought, now I’m getting awkward. 

You looked up at him, eyes wide. “Really? Do you mean that?”

“Of course. I think I’ve still got my notes too, if you want ‘em.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if he wasn’t saving your ass again. 

“Oh my god Peter,” you placed your non-injured hand on his knee, not noticing the way his body stiffened and he gulped. “That would help so much. There’s a huge exam coming up, and it's a huge part of my grade so I have to pass. I started cramming earlier but—”

“I’ll help,” he reassured you, “I enjoy science anyway, so it’ll be fun for me.”

“Thank you,” you repeated. Staring at him so close, you realized you’d never noticed how handsome he was. Sure there were times you thought he was cute, from afar, but now…you could see the different shades of brown in his eyes, the way one of his eyebrows was slightly curlier than the other, unwilling to sit straight. You couldn’t help but stare-

“Oh my god,” you repeated, except this time, you had remembered something. “If we’re both in here, who’s outside?”

“What? Oh, um,” he scratched the back of his neck, still reeling from having you so close to him. “Freddy’s out there?”

“Freddy?” You asked confused. 

He nodded. “The guy writing on his laptop, he’s friends with my roommate, throws the craziest parties. He’s chill, I told him to keep an eye out if someone else walks in. But it’s been slow, so I think we’re good.”

“Oh, okay.” You said, standing up. “We should probably still go though.”

He stood up beside you, frowning. “I don’t think you should work with your hand hurt. I don’t want you accidentally making it worse.”

Your heart warmed at his concern. “That's really sweet Peter, but I’ll be fine. I don’t know what happened before, I never do stuff like that, even accidentally.”

He still didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t you just go home? I can take it for today.”

You shook your head quickly, “I’m not leaving. I have a class later and it would just be a waste of time going back and forth anyway.”

You walked towards the door, opened it, and exited before he had a chance to argue anymore. You stepped behind the counter while Peter rushed out behind you. You watched Freddy give him a thumbs up and Peter nodded at him before he followed right after you. 

“Are you sure you should go to class today? I can walk you home so you can take the day off,” he offered, and he looked so genuine you almost accepted. 

“Peter,” you laughed and he decided no matter what your response was, it wouldn’t matter because hearing you say his name like that was enough. “I’ll be fine, I didn’t break both my legs, it's just a small burn.”

He stared at you for a bit as you smiled at him, trying to get him to ease up. “Fine,” he gave in reluctantly. “But no going towards the cappuccino machine,” he waved a finger at you, “or the ovens. Or anything hot!”

“Fine,” you shot back, grinning wide and he couldn’t help but return it.

The rest of the morning had gone by easily and you thought maybe you didn’t have totally shit luck. Peter was way more fun than you ever thought he’d be and you wondered why you didn’t start talking to each other sooner. 

It used to be silently working together but after those few moments in the break room, you guys were laughing your whole shift. He meant what he said, and he kept you away from anything that produced heat (which you told him was an insane boundary to set in a cafe) so you had extra time to make quips here and there.

You started playing your order-guessing game with him, teaching him certain traits that gave someone away:

“Side part, beanie, and a crossbody? Oh, he’s getting a tall, dark, americano for sure.”

“She’s getting tea. No coffee, just tea. Maybe with a little lemon wedge.”

And he started to get the hang of it. 

“She looks like she drinks matchas right?” He said to you when a girl around your age walked in. He’d been right and you both laughed about it afterwards. 

When your work shift ended, you were actually upset. 

“I’ve got a class to get to,” you told him, lifting your bag onto your shoulder. You’d both cleaned up and gotten yourselves ready, now standing in front of the door. Something in you didn’t want to leave just yet, enjoying your time together far too much to end it so soon. 

“Yeah…” he trailed off, you waited for him to continue but he hesitated. 

“What is it?” You crossed your arms and smiled slightly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, “I just…well, I was just wondering—if it's okay with you of course!” He rushed out, quickly bringing his hands up. “That I could walk you to class?”

You laughed, “I’d love that Pete, thank you.” You turned to open the door to let you both out but he quickly moved forward, holding it open for you and motioning for you to move forward. 

Looking back at him, you smiled and noticed his cheeks were a little red. How had you never noticed how adorable he was?

The walk back to campus wasn’t long but you learned a lot. He told you where he went to high school, his friends he still kept in touch with, his Aunt May, some funny moments from parties he’d been forced to attend by his roommate, and you laughed together.

You told him about the book you were currently reading, your life back home and your family, and why you chose to go to this college. He went along with your jokes, which made it all the more better for you. “I mean if you think about it,” you'd said, “it is so much easier to romanticize your life  when your school campus is as pretty as this one, and that’s real motivation!”

The conversation flowed naturally between you two and it felt like you’d been friends for ages. He dropped you off outside of your class building with the promise of picking you up afterward so you two could study together. 

“So I’ll be back here in an hour right,” he asked. 

“Right,” you smiled at him. “And thanks again Pete, for everything.” You held up your bandaged hand, shaking it a little before setting it back down. 

He shook his head quickly, “Don’t thank me for that. Really.”

You stared at him with a warm expression. “Bye Peter,” you waved as you turned to walk into your class.

“Bye Y/N,” he returned. He watched you walk through the doors, shooting him one last smile before you disappeared from view, before blowing out a breath of air. 

He’d finally gotten a chance to talk to the girl he’d been crushing on for months, and he got to walk her to class! And they were meeting up afterward. After working so close to you and never having the guts to initiate a conversation, he’d settled for just admiring you from afar. But after today, there was nothing that could keep him away. 

You were not having a good day. 

You’d just found out that your chemistry exam was being bumped up to two days from now. Even with the early studying you’d done before, there was no way you could catch up with everything that fast. You were so overwhelmed you had completely forgotten Peter was waiting for you outside. 

You walked out, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, and you practically jumped out of your skin when someone placed a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, don’t worry,” he said, his voice soft yet full of concern. Peter. “It's just me. What happened?”

The second he saw you walk out, he could tell something was off. He could literally sense the anxiety rolling off of you in waves. He had waited for you to look up and stop when you saw him, but you were just about to walk past him before he stopped you. Now, you were looking at him with distress coating every feature on your face. Your brows were pinched, your lip red from biting it, and your eyes wide and distant like you couldn’t even see him and he was standing right in front of you. Something had gone wrong and he wanted nothing more than to fix it. 

“What is it? What’s wrong? He asked frantically. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered, hands flying up to the sides of your head and gripping your hair. You weren’t looking at him anymore, “Oh my god.”

“Ok Y/N,” he said nervously, “you’re starting to scare me.”

“Two days Peter!” You looked at him wildly. “Two days! I can’t go over everything in two days, is he fucking insane? I didn’t even know he could do something like that, I mean, can he do something like that? I feel like that shouldn’t be allowed it should—”

You cut yourself off and started pacing back and forth in front of him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna bomb this. And if I fail, it’ll bring my whole grade down! I can’t afford that I—”

“Hey,” he repeated, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder again. “I said I’m gonna help you, and I meant it. So we’re gonna get through this together, even if we have to stay up all night.”

You stared at him, trying to wonder what you’d done in your life to deserve such an angel. 

You shook your head quickly, “I really appreciate that Peter, but I’m serious. There’s no way I can learn everything I need to know that fast.”

You tried to smile at him but it didn’t reach your eyes. 

He grinned, his expression the total opposite of yours. “Well, you’ve clearly never studied with me, so don’t sound too sure yet.”

Another thing you’d come to realize was just how smart Peter was. 

You really should’ve known when he told you he’d taken that advanced chemistry class a year ago. And passed. 

Looking through his notes, you could see his attention to detail. He really wasn’t a slacker in the classroom because everything was clearly laid out here. 

You’d spent that night going over everything and you’d actually started to feel hopeful about it. Peter was a way better teacher than Professor Hall, and it didn’t hurt that he was so cute. He was understanding with everything and was willing to go over any part for as long as it took for you to fully grasp it. 

At the end of the night, he’d undone the wrappings around your hand, reapplied the cream for you, and wrapped it up again.

“It’s doing okay,” he reassured you. “Like I said, it’s gonna take a while, but if it starts hurting or anything, take some medicine. Then find me.”

You were sure you’d just melted into his hands at that moment.

The next day, you couldn’t wait to get through everything and see him again, even if you were going to be talking about chemistry. 

You weren’t scheduled to work at the cafe today, so you’d only get to meet up after both of your classes. 

Lectures were a blur, nothing really catching your attention and you spent most of the time with your phone tucked in your hand texting back and forth with Peter, barely concealing your laughter when he sent you memes. 

It was like that all day, until, finally, you made your way over to his small apartment he shared with one of his friends. 

its very quaint 🤌

(totally NOT what we say to make ourselves feel better about this shoebox)

He’d told you over text, making you laugh out loud as you made your way over there. 

dw🫡 I was one of those kids who used to live in their play tents and hid in random corners and spaces

im totally ready for this

ok but be warned, we do not have a pet!!! they are not allowed per our lease!!! ignore the cat when you come in!!! tell no one!!!

what cat ??

good girl ;)

Your face flushed as you made your way up the steps to his door. You knocked three times and barely had to wait a second before Peter stood before you, holding the door open. 

“Hi,” he said, smiling at you. 

“Hi,” you grinned back. You heard a small ‘meow’ come from behind him and he quickly held up a finger to his lips. You covered your mouth, stifling a laugh as you nodded at him. 

“Come on in,” he said, stepping out of the way to lead you through the door. You stepped in and kicked off your shoes before looking around. It was plain, but that was to be expected really. 

There was a large poster hanging next to their TV, however, that caught your eye. “Big fan?” You asked him, shoving your thumb in the direction of the Star Wars poster. 

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Kind of.”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking because I love those movies. My little brother used to watch them and I got really into it.”

“Oh. I mean—I don’t know what I was saying before I love them too.” He rushed out, making you giggle.

He stayed staring at you for a bit, his eyes rounding out and his mouth gaping a little bit. 

You gave him a small smile, “Okay, well we should-” You let out a small yelp, hands flying to your mouth as you jumped back. 

The living room was small. The only things occupying it were the TV mounted to the wall, and in front of it, was a sofa. And on the sofa, was an unconscious body that you hadn’t noticed until it let out a low groan. You really weren’t sure how you missed it, there wasn’t much else to look at, but they had just been so still. 

Heart beating erratically, you turned towards Peter again, who was looking at you with all the amusement in the world written all over his face. “Was he always there,” you whispered, eyes wide.

He opened his arms, “Well, angel, I really don’t know. Did you see anyone come in?”

“Oh shut up,” you grumbled. “He looks familiar…is that..”

“Freddy.” He finished for you. Right. The dude from the cafe. 

“He crashes here sometimes.” He added.

You nodded. “Alright.”

“Shall we?” He opened a door beside him and looked at you. 

“Right. Yeah, of course.” You walked past him and into his room. You stopped after you entered, taking a moment to look around. His room was simple, with just his bed, a desk and chair, and a dresser perched next to another door you assumed was his closet. 

What really caught your attention, however, were the photos scattered all over the walls. The room was practically engulfed in Peter Parker’s memories, and you really liked it. Without thinking, you approached one wall, walking through them and taking each one in. 

There were some with large groups of people, those looked like school trips. Most of the photos were of the same two people, and based on what he’d told you, you assumed those were his friends. Ned and MJ. 

A lot of the photos contained an older woman, who looked stunning. That had to be his Aunt May. You were shocked by how many photos he had with the Tony Stark. He’d told you he had an internship at Stark Industries, but really, you sorta thought he just went on coffee runs all day. 

And then, you saw a couple shots of Spider-Man. It wasn’t unusual, you knew a lot of people snapped photos of the masked hero when they spotted him around the city. What was unusual, was the quality of the photos. You didn’t know if you’d ever seen such clear photos of him, even on the news, as he was always swinging and in motion. In these, Peter seemed to have caught him at just the right time. You wondered how long it took him to capture the photos.

“Big fan?” You smirked over at him from your spot by one of the Spider-Man photos as you repeated your words from earlier. 

Peter leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, content with watching go over the details of his life. He felt a little naked, like he was bared out in front of you. But…it felt good too. He liked knowing you were learning new things about him, and curious to know more. It filled him with an anxious sort of giddiness.

“You first,” he said slyly.

Laughing, you said, “Well, I don’t see how anyone can hate on the guy. He literally runs around saving lives”

He laughed as he approached you, standing by your side. You’d be surprised. “True I guess.”

“We should get to studying,” you said, breezing past him, your hand brushing his bicep as you did. He sucked in a breath, his entire body feeling electrocuted after that one touch. He wondered how you seemed so normal, laying out your books and papers on the floor beside his bed. 

This was gonna be a long night. 

He cleared his throat and moved to sit across from you, hoping he didn’t look as flushed as he felt. 

After a few moments of him watching you get settled, you heard him start laughing. Looking up you asked, “What’s so funny?”

That only made him laugh harder. “Just thinking about how scared you got before. Did you really not see him?”

You felt your face go hot. “I didn’t! I had no clue he was there, and next thing I know he’s making lawn mower nosies!”

Peter was red in the face now. “The way you flew back,” he said between fits of laughter, “I thought you’d give yourself whiplash.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled at him, picking up one of your pens and throwing it at him. It bounced off without him even flinching. 

You looked down, avoiding his gaze by busying yourself with your papers. 

“Okay I’m ready to be serious now,” he said. The laughter was gone but amusement twinkled in his voice. 

“Great! Welcome back Pete, now hand me that pen, I’m gonna need it.”

Two hours later, you were both sprawled across the floor tossing Chess-Its at one another. 

“Come on!” You threw your arms up in defeat when you threw another cracker at him just for him to catch it again. 

Peter chuckled, “Sorry angel, I’ve just got killer reflexes.”

“Alright whatever,” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, throw some at me.”

You opened your mouth, ready to finally win one round of this nonsense…just for a Cheez-It to hit your cheek and fall to the ground with the rest of your tries. 

Peter laughed while you sat up, reached to grab the box of crackers, and poured some into your hand before putting it back down. 

“Okay, I’m done. I actually want to eat them now.” You said, munching on a cracker and sitting against the side of his bed. 

“Oh come on, don’t be a quitter Y/N/N,” he grinned, leaning over and pinching your cheek. 

You swatted his hand away with your empty one. “M’not.”

He smiled at you before sitting up. “Hit me,” he said, opening his mouth and pointing at it. 

You grabbed a Cheez-It from the palm of your hand and made a big show of trying to get your aim right. Squinting one eye, you stared at him, moving your hand back and forth before tossing it slightly more to the right. On purpose. 

That didn’t stop him from leaning over and catching it in his mouth. 

“I don’t like this game,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you did,” he said back, munching on his Cheez-it. 

“Sue me,” you told him, brushing him off with a wave of your hand. 

He laughed before he settled down. “How’s your hand feeling by the way.” His voice was considerably softer now, making you smile softly at him. 

“It’s doing great, thank you again, Peter. I would’ve been totally fucked if it weren’t for you,” you told him honestly. 

He shook his head, “Don’t thank me at all Y/N. Hate seeing you hurt,” he mumbled, less to you and more to himself and he stayed staring at your wrapped-up hand. 

“Well don’t worry about that, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Yeah?” He looked at you suddenly, like he needed to know you meant it. 

“Yeah,” you nodded at him. 

“That’s good,” he breathed out and your heart squeezed at how much he seemed to care. 

“What's your plan? Y’know, for after school?” You didn’t want to leave just yet, even with your studying done. And you wanted to know more about him. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t taken a certain liking to him lately. 

“Well after I get my degree, I’m going move up a little further in Stark Industries. I’m still undecided on grad school, I think I’ve got everything I need and I’m probably just gonna start saving up to pay off student loans instead of adding on them.”

You nodded at him, “So the Stark internship is going well? No offense, I sort of thought you were their coffee mule.” You grinned at him before popping a Cheez-It in your mouth. 

He scoffed, “No, I’m not. I mean, it did take a while to get them to take me seriously, but I got there!”

You laughed, “Well, very proud of you Pete. That’s super impressive.”

He grinned at you, his face heating up at your words. He wondered if you knew how much it affected him every time you called him Pete. Probably not, but he never wanted you to stop. 

You two stayed like that for another hour or so, time passing by without you noticing at all. You talked about your futures, where you say yourselves after school, and after that. Your admiration for him only grew as you got to know him more. You could talk to him all night and never get bored honestly, you-

Shit. 

A random notification lit up your phone, which lay beside you on the floor, making you take notice of the time. 

You sat up quickly, spitting out curses as you started gathering your belongings and shoving them into your bag. 

Peter sat up as well, helping you get your things together but in a calmer manner than yourself. 

“Relax Y/N,” he said in a soothing voice. 

“Pete I can’t do it.” You turned to him suddenly, dropping everything in your hands. 

“Do what, angel?”

“The exam is tomorrow. I’m not ready! I’m gonna fail, and that one grade, that one stupid grade, is gonna hold me back and ruin everything-”

“Sweetheart look at me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. His grip was warm and reassuring. “You are not going to fail. And I know this because I’ve spent the last few hours studying with you, and I saw how smart you are, and how quick you caught on. You’re gonna walk in there tomorrow and ace that test, I know you are!

“And if for some reason you don’t,” he continued, “you gave it your best. You tried your hardest and you learned something, which is all that matters in the end. So breathe, stop stressing, and let me walk you home.”

“All that talk as an excuse to ask to take me home?” You snorted, “Peter you shouldn’t have.” Despite your jokes, you took his advice and took a deep breath. He was right, you’d studied your hardest, both with and without his help. All you could do was take the exam and hope for the best now.

He laughed and stood up, holding out a hand once he saw you all packed and ready. “Caught me. So is that a yes?”

You took his hand and pulled yourself up but didn’t let go right away. “If I fail, do we have to stop hanging out? Y’know, with you being a science prodigy and all.”

He laughed again and placed both his hands on your shoulder, staring straight into your eyes. “Never.”

“Ok, well, just making sure. I wouldn’t wanna give you a bad rep in the science community or something-”

You were suddenly cut off from your babbling when he pressed his lips to yours. You froze for a second, unsure what to do, but it didn’t take long for you to catch up and kiss him back. 

He pulled away after a few moments, “Done with the jokes?” His voice was soft and teasing.

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, eyes still closed. “But I think you might need to do that again, just to be sure.”

He chuckled murmuring something that sounded like ‘too cute’ but you couldn’t be bothered to hear when you felt his lips on yours again, this time, expecting them. 

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and canting your head slightly for better access. He groaned, one arm wrapping around your middle, the other settling on your waist.

You might have pictured kissing him before, just maybe. But none of your daydreaming could’ve prepared you for the real thing. The way his bottom lip covered your top one, the soft breaths exchanged between the two of you, the way he pressed himself further into you when you tugged his hair a little harder. This definitely beat all of your daydreams. 

You could’ve stayed that way forever, and you probably would’ve if Peter hadn’t taken one for the team and pulled away first. 

Or tried to, at least. 

“We should-” kiss. 

“You-” kiss. 

“I need to walk,” kiss, “-you home angel.” He murmured against your lips.

“Okay,” you whispered back but you didn’t move to pull away, and he didn’t push you. The two of you stayed stuck, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, taking in the atmosphere of each other. 

“I should probably go now,” you said softly. Peter hummed in agreement, leaning in to peck your lips gently. 

“It’s getting late,” but your voice is more of a sigh. You don’t know what he’s laced his lips with but each kiss makes you weak in the knees and woozier than the last one.

“God, d’yknow I’ve had the biggest crush on you.” He said, completely disregarding your previous statement. 

That stops you. “What?” You asked him in disbelief. Peter had a crush on you? No way, you would’ve known. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, “don’t act so shocked. I was always a stuttering mess at work whenever you so much as looked at me.”

True. But you’d just thought he was a bit more on the shy side. 

“I’d seen you around campus before and I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and I still do, but I thought I had no shot in hell with you. And when I got the job at the cafe and saw I’d be working with you? I almost lost my fucking mind sweetheart.” You both laughed a little and you couldn’t help the way your cheeks flamed up because of his words. Did he have any clue what he was doing to you right now?

“So I just sorta kept my distance, y’know? Admired you from afar ‘cause I was too scared you’d reject me. Sadly, it only took you nearly burning your hand off,” he gave you a look and you burst into giggles, him doing you and slightly pinching your waist, “for me to get over myself and actually keep up a conversation with you. But now I’ve got you in my room, kissing me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “lucky you.” You joked as leaned in to press another kiss to his lips. 

“Lucky me indeed,” he murmured before pulling you in even deeper. He dipped you, making you squeal into the kiss. Then he pulled you up, unable to keep the kiss going any longer with how hard he was grinning.

“Oh my god,” you said, laughing breathlessly. 

“A lot more where that came from,” he smirked at you. 

“You know,” you moved to pick up your bag, “for someone who was so scared to talk to me for so long, you sure found the confidence now.”

“What can I say? You make it easy. Once I started I couldn’t stop.” You smiled at him as he gently placed a hand on your arm leading you to the door. The living room was empty now, no one to be found on the couch or otherwise and you wondered where their cat had wandered off to.

You bent over to put on your shoes, Peter doing the same. He stepped forward and opened the door for you, letting you step out before following you and locking the door. 

As soon as he was done with that, you reached over and grabbed his hand. “Hey Petey?” You said lightly. Oh, he was going to melt. From now on, he only wanted you to call him that.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you finally decided to talk to me.” 

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “Yeah? Me too angel.”

The next morning, you awoke in the brightest mood, considering you had a chemistry exam later that day. All you could think about was Peter. You were going to see him later at the cafe and you couldn’t wait. 

You leaned over in bed to pick up your phone. Speak of the devil. 

GOOD MORNINGGGGG❤️

hope you slept well angel, can’t wait to see you today. and you’re gonna totally ace that exam!🥰

seriously you’re going to kick chemistry’s butt

A huge smile bloomed on your face, almost hurting from how wide it was. Usually, you'd stay in bed for a while, scrolling through Instagram or just going through messages or something. Not today, you couldn’t wait to get to work. Maybe Peter was a good influence on you. 

After getting ready for the day, you made your way to the cafe with a little bounce in your steps. The bell jingled above you as you opened the door and for the first time since you’d started working together, Peter was here before you. 

“Hey,” he smiled, holding up your usual drink order and waving it at you. 

“Hi Pete,” you approached his, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. As you pulled away, you could see how quickly his cheeks pinked, making you grin. 

“No ‘Petey’?”

“Didn’t know you had a preference,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards you as you took a sip from the drink and then moved to get dressed for your shift. 

“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck, wishing he could feel your hand on his for just a little longer, “neither did I.”

You laughed lightly as you tied your apron, the sound hitting him like the greatest melody in the world. 

“Okay then,” you walked towards him, stopping right in front of him, “let’s start over. Hi Petey.”

“Hi angel,” he gave you a dopey grin and you returned it. 

“Great, now that we’ve got that figured out.” You patted his chest lightly before taking the drink from his hands and moving away. 

“Hey wait! Where’s my kiss?” He pouted at you and he looked so adorable, you just wanted to pinch his cheeks and kiss him till he begged you to stop.

“We’re at work, we’ve gotta be professional.” You said matter-of-factly. 

He rolled his eyes, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. “Professional my ass, no one is even in here-,”

Before he could even close his mouth, the bell jingled, and in stepped a boy about your age. The boy moved to one of the chairs, not moving to order just yet, giving you the chance to smirk at Peter, who just rolled his eyes again. 

“What do you he’s gonna order,” he asked you.

“Hmm…a cookie, probably.” You moved lean against the counter across from him and took a sip of your drink as you smiled. 

“Hey wait, you never told me what your drink order is.”

“Hmm…” he hummed in consideration before he moved towards you, grabbing your hand with the drink and bringing it up to his lips to steal a sip, maintaining eye contact the whole time. 

“I’ve got to say,” he said in a low voice, “this one has really grown on me.”

You couldn’t look away, all you could do was stare. And stare, and stare, and stare…

A stranger’s voice, and then, “Hey, can I get one of those double chocolate chip cookies?”

You were just on cloud nine today. 

You had taken your exam and for the first time ever in that class, you had felt confident in your work. 

And to top it all off, after you’d handed in your paper and packed your things to leave, Professor Hall had given you a ‘well done’ nod. You! He’d never noticed you positively before. You were going to need to drown Peter in thank-you kisses for his help. 

Speaking of Peter, you couldn’t wait to see him. He told you he’d be waiting for you after your class but when you stepped outside, there was no sign of him. You decided to sit on the building steps and wait. He was probably just running a little late, no biggie. 

Big biggie. After 40 minutes of waiting for him, during which you’d sent him a little text and he hadn’t responded, you decided to head over to his place. 

The walk was short and your little buzz had worn off after not getting to share it with Peter. After all, you kind of owed him most of the credit. You arrived at his apartment door, and when you knocked, it wasn't Peter who answered. 

It's Freddy. 

You throw on a smile. “Hi Freddy, is Peter home?”

He returned your smile as he said, “‘Sup Y/N.” He held out his fist and you stared at it for a while before you got the hint and bumped it with your own. “Pete’s not home right now, but you can totally come in and wait for him.”

You found it funny that someone who didn’t live there was inviting you in to stay, but you accepted anyway. You also had no clue how he knew your name. 

You knew little about Freddy, but you knew he was sort of a campus celebrity. Every raging party there was, everyone knew Freddy was behind it. 

“So,” you said as you walked in, “what year are you in Freddy?”

“Ah nah, I’m done with that shit. I took the bar,” he said casually, waving a hand and moving to sit on the couch. He kicked his feet up on the large Amazon box being used as a coffee table and picked up the open beer sitting atop it. 

You stood in your place, clutching your bag. He was in grad school?

“Oh that’s awesome dude, did you not pass or something.”

“Uh uh,” he shook his head, taking a swig of beer, “got a 350.”

Your eyes widened. What. You didn’t know much about law school but you knew getting a score like that on the bar was not an easy thing. 

“Wait when’d you take it?” You asked confused. The bar exam wasn’t scheduled for a few months from now. 

“Last year.”

“Do you like…work at a firm or something?” It was insane to you that the party animal of this school had already graduated, and with an amazing score nonetheless. 

He shook his head, “Workin' on my music right now, and if that doesn’t work out,” he gave you a wicked grin, “well I’ve always got my law degree.”

You nodded, stunned. “That’s sick dude. Good luck,” you told him, waving as you moved to wait in Peter’s room. 

“Keep the door cracked kids,” he shouted towards you and you huffed a laugh as you entered the room and closed the door (leaving it open just an inch) before you sat at the foot of his bed. 

You looked around for a second, taking it all in. It’s amazing how he managed to take this small space and make it so him. 

After a few moments, you took out your phone to shoot him another text. 

But before you could finish typing it out, the window beside you started opening and you watched as the Spider-Man fell onto the bed, not noticing you gaping right next to him. 

You stayed silent, unsure of what to do or say until he moved to take his mask off. That got you moving and talking. 

“Holy fuck!” You basically shout, moving away, hands flying to your mouth. 

He seemed to be just as shocked as you were because he scrambled up from his lying position. And staring back at you was Peter Parker. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked you, eyes wide. It wasn’t till then that you noticed the paleness of his features, his face lacking that usually healthy glow it held, the waver in his voice, and the hand clutching his bloody side. 

“Holy fuck,” you repeated, voice lower, and for a whole different reason this time. “Shit Peter, you’re hurt.” You moved closer to him, temporarily forgetting everything else as your hand reached to gently remove his so you could take in the extent of his injuries. 

“It’s nothing,” he said but made no move to shove you away or stop you. You moved his hand and winced at the sight that greeted you, “Looks like a whole lot more than nothing babe.”

“I’ve had worse.”

You look up at him, frowning slightly, “Not exactly reassuring Petey.”

“I feel all better now,” he said, shooting you a charming grin as soon as he heard the nickname leave your mouth. “Add a kiss in the mix, and I’ll be good as new.”

You huffed a laugh, shoving his knee slightly, “Shut up Peter. I’m serious. I’m sure you’ve got some experience with stuff like this,” you wave a hand towards his suit and injury for emphasis and he gives you a quick nod. 

“Over there,” he pointed toward his dresser, “top shelf, under the blue sweater.”

You rushed over there, opening the drawer and spotting the sweater he mentioned. “I’m totally stealing that from you someday, this is your heads up,” you told him as you grabbed the large box and completely closed the door before you moved back to his side. 

“You can have anything of mine, Angel. I’m sure you’d look better in it anyway.” His words made you blush, but you tried to ignore them so you could focus on the task at hand. 

Peter, however, found that he really liked watching your cheeks pink up. And he wanted more. 

“Lean against the headboard, now.” You said, trying to be serious again. 

“God, at least buy me dinner first sweetheart.” He gave you the dorkiest smirk you’d ever seen. You just glared at him. “On the other hand,” he said as he moved backward to lean against his headboard, “I don’t need dinner, I’m all yours baby girl.”

This got you to laugh, “Peter, be serious! You’re bleeding out!” You moved to his side, “take this off by the way.” You gestured to his suit. 

He hit the middle emblem of a spider and you watched as it loosened up and fell off his shoulders. You had started pulling it the rest of the way down, gulping when you realized he wasn’t wearing anything else, when he mumbled, “Not a terrible way to go.”

You refused to look up and meet his eyes but he knew he got you. Thank god he was wearing underwear, you realized, and you threw the suit to the side after you’d completely shredded him of it. He was definitely going to need a new one. 

Now completely facing the damage, your stomach churned, and you were hit with the hard truth. “I…I don’t know what to do,” you whispered to him. You wanted to help him, more than anything. This man who’s been risking his life, probably since he was a teenager you realized, as you did the math silently in your head, was hurt and right in front of you, needing your help. And you needed to help him, but you didn’t know the first thing about how to approach a situation like this. You were surprised you could stare at the wound for so long. 

“Don’t worry, I can do it,” he said gently, his bloody hand reaching for the huge first aid kit. 

“No!” You rushed out, grabbing his hand to stop him, “No way am I letting you do that! Just…just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.

Feeling more confident, you grabbed the kit and opened it. Shock coursed you as you realized just how much he went through and your confidence fell right back down where it sprouted from. The bag was full of all the medical tools and supplies you could think of, most of them completely foreign to you, and you realized how privileged you must be to not recognize any of these things. You can’t imagine the ‘worse’ he talked about having earlier. This must be those accidents he was talking about.

“I don’t usually have to use them,” his voice was soft, almost like he was reassuring you, “usually just water and a towel does the trick. Maybe a little numbing cream. And these,” he looked down at his wounds, “some bandages, sure, but I won’t need stitches or anything.”

You let out a breath of relief, you weren’t sure you could’ve handled that. You didn’t trust yourself.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing some wipes. You were going to do this. Based on what he’d told you, he was always stitching himself back up, just to hit the streets again the next day. This time, though, was different. This time you were here to help him, and you weren’t going chicken out of this. Even a little help was better than nothing at all. 

You started slowly, cleaning around his wounds so you could bandage them properly. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked you gently. “I totally understand if you need me to do it, angel, it’s a lot if you’re not used to it.”

“No,” you shook your head, your voice steady, “No way. It’s my turn to fix you up.” You told him, looking up to meet his eyes and smiling at him. 

He returned it and you went back to work. 

“So….Spider-Man, huh?” You peeked up quickly in question. 

“Yeah,” he took a deep breath, “it’s a long story. Basically, I was bit by some spider, that shit was powerful,” you laughed a little, making him smile. “And I got some. Of its powers I mean.”

“So you get bit by a spider, that spider gives you powers, and you decide to become a New York vigilante?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he nodded, and you laughed again. 

“You’re a hell of a guy Peter Parker.” You said, shaking your head slightly. 

“Thank you, I try,” he smirked at you and you laughed again. 

“Okay,” you said, pulling away from his side. He almost whined in protest. Honestly, he wasn’t feeling any pain, not since you’d started worrying about him, and insisting you help him. Peter wasn’t used to that, he was always alone when it came to this part of the job. He’d never minded that before, just one of the things he had to deal with as a superhero, but now that someone else was taking care of him…it felt nice. Really nice. Especially when it was you. 

“Peter?” You looked at him questioningly. Shit. You’d asked him something.  

“Huh? I'm sorry, I didn’t hear you.” He said with wide eyes. He’d gotten too wrapped up in the feeling of being taken care of, not that anyone could blame him though, the girl he’d been crushing on forever was here, in his room, helping bandage him up! It's more than he could’ve dreamed of. 

“It’s okay sweetie,” you said, waving him off assuming he was in pain or something. Really, now he had something new to obsess over. Sweetie? While he was practically naked (albeit injured, but he wasn’t thinking of that right now) in bed with you? God, he could just melt.

“I was just wondering which bandages,” you said, holding up the different ones you’d found in his bag. 

“Oh,” he said lamely, “these ones.” He grabbed a few from you and opened them. 

“Look,” he said, leaning over himself to see his wounds properly, “you’ve got to bring together both sides of the wound, then secure the bandage so that it’s holding it closed.” He talked as he placed the first bandage with you watching and listening with intent. 

“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” you said as you took the rest of the bandages from him. You steadied yourself, straddling his thigh as you started placing the bandages down his wound. The biggest gash took about five, your elbow resting on his abdomen as you got lower…and lower. 

Conveniently, you missed the quiver in his breath, too focused on the work at hand, but you didn’t miss the small gasp he let out when your forearm reached right between his thighs. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You said as you pulled away quickly, thinking you’d hurt him. “Did I pinch too hard?”

“No, no angel, you’re fine. Doing a great job actually.” He replied, trying to collect himself. He could not let himself think of that right now. There were more important things at hand. 

“You sure?” You asked him, not looking convinced.

“Positive.” He replied, grabbing your arm and pulling you back in (but making sure to keep you at a healthy distance from his dick). 

You added a few more bandages, most of the cuts only needing one or two, before pulling away again to rummage through his bag. “What do you use on your bruises?”

“This one,” he said, leaning over you and grabbing a tube from the kit. You turned, your lips almost brushing over each other with how close you were. 

“Hi,” you whispered, all thoughts completely flying out of your head as you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss him. 

“Hi angel,” he said smiling softly at you. 

Seeing you debate it in your head, Peter decided it would be easier for the both of you if he did it first. Leaning in, he closed the distance and smoothly took your lips in his. You melted into the kiss right away, feeling like you’d been craving this your whole life when really, you’d just kissed his a few hours ago before you’d left work. 

Your hands were on his bare chest, you could feel every muscle, every move when-

“Wait, you’re hurt!” You pulled away, leaving a pouting Peter in your wake. 

“My lips work just fine angel,” he said, trying to steal another kiss while you tried to avoid him. 

“But..let me finish at least,” you mumbled against his lips, barely getting a chance to pull away after he’d caught you. 

“You can finish, just lemme do this first,” he responded before kissing you again.

“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips. 

He hummed in response, moving to kiss your cheek, your jawline. If he kept this up you might not try to stop him. 

“Did you know Freddy took the bar exam? And passed?”

That got him to pull away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at you confusedly, “I’m kissing you and you decide this a good time to bring up Freddy?”

“Well, y’know,” you shrugged, “figured it was as good a time as any.”

He scoffed, “Unbelievable.”

You giggled, “I win.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling away before he could catch you and turn it into more.

“Now lay down, lemme do this,” you said waving the cream at him. 

He moved grumpily and you thought grumpy Peter was the cutest thing ever. The furrow of his brows, the slight pout of his lips. You could just kiss him. And you would’ve if you hadn’t known where it would lead you. 

You unscrewed the cap to the cream and started applying it gently. “So Fred’s a lawyer huh?” Peter spoke up. 

“He is!” You whispered excitedly, glad he was just as shocked as you were. 

“And you learned this how?” He asked, giving you a look. 

You shrugged. “He let me in and I talked to him, asked him a few questions to get to know him better since I see him everywhere.” 

“Wait, he’s here right now?”

“Yeah,” you said slowly, “I thought you knew?”

“No I didn’t-,” he let out a sigh, “whatever it's basically his apartment too at this point I guess.”

You laughed, “And you’re okay with that?”

He shrugged with his good side. “He buys the good beer.”

You laughed again. “He scored a 350 on the bar exam!”

Peter’s brows shot up. “Oh shit.”

“I know! The only thing I knew about him was that he blacked out in that frat house’s pool all night and the cops were called cause someone thought he was dead.”

“Yeah, he’s super lucky he was on his back. Just floated around the pool like a leaf.”

You shook your head, screwing the cap back on the tube of cream, “Crazy. But anyway, I’m done. And on the plus side,” you grinned at him, “if you ever get in legal trouble, you know someone!”

He laughed out loud, and you watched as his face scrunched up and he clutched his side in pain. Apologizing for the joke, you gave him a kiss on the cheek to make up for it. 

“Enough about crazy Freddy,” he let out a sigh, “I’m gonna go put some clothes on, and then I wanna cuddle with my girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and all you could do was smile as he stood up, giving you a kiss on the side of your head before he moved to pick out some clothes.

You watched him get dressed, biting your lip as you watched how his muscles rippled with each of his movements. You always knew he was strong but seeing him like that, was a completely different story. 

“Like what you see?” He asked, smirking at you before he lifted his shirt, holding it up between his teeth as he tied his sweatpants. 

Your mouth fell open. At being caught and also at…how absolutely hot he looked right now. If he wasn’t injured, you would be all. over. him. 

“S’alright angel,” he said as he stalked towards you. He was enjoying this, a lot. “I’m sure I’d be the same if the roles were reversed.”

That did not help. Now you were thinking about being naked in front of Peter and-

He laughed, kissed the side of your head again, and laid down, pulling next to him. 

“Careful Peter, you’re still hurt!” You chastised him. 

He shook his head, “You made me feel a hundred times better. Thank you, angel.”

“Of course Petey.” He smiled at you as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. 

“So, you came to see me right? Y’know, before the whole finding out I’m Spider-Man thing. What’s up?”

“Oh I almost forgot,” you perked up, tilting your head up so you could see his face, “I think I totally aced that chemistry exam!”

“Angel! I’m so proud of you!” He started attacking you with kisses, kissing you anywhere his lips could reach. 

You giggled, “Thank you sweetie, but seriously I owe you most of the credit, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Nonsense,” he shook his head, “that was all you. I barely helped, you learned everything and then took that quiz, and aced it.”

“Well I haven’t gotten my grade back yet, I just have a really good feeling, so don’t sound too are there's a chance I didn’t do as well as I thought.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “I have a sense, a spidey sense. And my spidey sense is telling me that you totally aced that thing. No questions asked.”

You laughed loudly. “Spidey sense?”

“No questions,” he repeated as he nuzzled his nose into your hair. 

“Fine then,” you snuggled up further into him. “No questions.”

[cranberrymoons]

hey sweetheart

prompt: meetcute at work (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: e (18+) word count: 896 words tags: modern au, line cook eddie/waiter steve, hooking up

welcome to Day 4 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

Steve is halfway through his first week when he meets him: the line cook with the long hair pulled back in a bun, the stark black lines of tattoos snaking up his arms, the flirty little smile that he flashes in Steve’s direction when Steve comes back to pick up Table 6’s starters.

It’s a hell of a time to start a job in the first place: mid-holiday season, no one around to train him except Robin who’s only worked there a couple weeks longer than he has and knows next to nothing about The Way Things Work.

But she’s Robin, and she’s familiar, and she knows him well enough to warn him to avoid the flirty long-haired line cook with the big brown eyes and the dimples and the million watt smile directed right at him and – 

Fuck.

“Sweetheart, you rang in Table Twelve wrong,” the guy says, leaning forward over the pass with a ticket in his hand. “This says no onions, but the special isn’t made with onions.”

Steve stares at him as he loads Table Six’s plates onto a tray. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, but only barely.

“My name isn’t Sweetheart,” he says eventually. “And so – just extra don’t put onions on it. Who cares?”

The cook raises his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side. “Thought it sounded nicer than ‘hey new guy’, but if you’d prefer that –”

“Steve,” he says. He shoulders his tray. “My name is Steve.”

The cook gives him a little smile, eyes flashing in the bright fluorescents of the kitchen.

“Alright, Sweetheart.” He tilts his chin up. “Extra no onions for Table Twelve, and you can call me Eddie.”

---

It continues on like that for a week or two: Eddie flirting, finding any excuse to ask a question about his ticket. 

Steve knows what he’s doing; he’s worked in restaurants before, and he’s fucked enough hot line cooks in his time that he should know better than to fall into the trap, but still, he finds himself drawn in, entertaining Eddie’s endless teasing and prodding and poking until he starts doing it back – little digs about his shift meal, questions about a menu item that he already knows the answer to.

“Dude,” Robin says, halfway through his first month. 

It’s rounding up on Christmas, and the place is packed, corporate groups out for holiday parties and couples on dates. 

“If you don’t stop flirting, I’m going to cut your fucking dick off,” she says. “Seriously.”

And – okay. That’s fair. 

Steve pulls himself away from where he’d been leaning over the pass, asking Eddie a question about the catch of the day that he’s already asked three times tonight. Clears his throat and straightens up. He tugs his tie back into place, claims the braised oxtail that’s destined for Table Two and clears his throat.

“Sorry.”

Eddie sends him a wink, and Steve feels himself flush.

“Please tell me you’re not going to fuck him,” Robin says as they exit the kitchen.

Steve sighs. “I’m not going to fuck him.”

---

And of course, he’s lying through his teeth.

The very next night, they’re both off work, and he gets a text from an unfamiliar number, just –

hey sweetheart 

Steve flushes as he stares down at his phone, scratching a hand back through his hair. He takes a breath.

Wonder who this could be , he texts back.

All he gets in response is a simple,

😇 

---

Two hours later, he’s flat on his back in Eddie’s bed, clinging to his shoulders and whining as Eddie fucks him so hard he loses his breath, so hard he feels like his brain is rattling around in his skull. He digs his teeth into Eddie’s skin, ankles locked around his back and not even bothering to hold back the noises that Eddie’s punching out of his chest, just –

“Fuck,” he gasps, voice coming high in the back of his throat. “Holy shit, I –”

Eddie’s mouth runs up the column of his neck, hands trailing over his skin, nails dragging sharp lines down his sides.

“You going to come for me, sweetheart?” he asks, voice low in his ear. “Show me how pretty you can be?”

And that’s – for some reason that sets Steve off, turns his skin over to fire as he grips tighter to Eddie’s shoulders, nails digging in, back arching off the bed, coming so hard he sees stars.

---

And then later, when they’re both fucked out and exhausted and Steve is preparing to take his cue to gather his clothes and make a graceful exit, he feels Eddie’s mouth skimming up the side of his neck, hand tangling in his hair, dragging him into another kiss.

A real one, with teeth and tongue and lips, a kiss that isn’t intended to go anywhere other than just to be , and his breath catches a little in his chest, hand skittering over Eddie’s back as he rolls over on top of him.

“Stay?” Eddie asks, voice quiet and hopeful and muffled where their mouths are still pressed together. He smiles, lips quirking up and drawing Steve along with him. “You know I know how to make breakfast.”

And Steve breathes out a quiet laugh, bumping their noses together. He sighs.

“As long as there’s bacon.”

[also on ao3]

[asonofpeter]

Night Shift

Pairing: Jaime Reyes x F!Reader

Summary: Jaime doesn't like that you work a night shift at a bar, so setting out to get a job at Kord Industries, you're shocked when he comes home with something else....

Warnings: mentions of men being pervs, lots of screaming and a little bit of violence, SPOILERS FOR BLUE BEETLE!

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: My first full fic in a while? Yes, it is indeed and with my new love, Jaime Reyes. If you haven't seen Blue Beetle, pause and go buy a ticket cause this movie is good! So proud of mi Xolito! Anyway, I'm proud of this, so enjoy! 💕💕💕

I don't consent to my work being copied, reposted, or translated.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know? I’ll get the job tomorrow and work hard to support the family and us,” Jaime stood up from your bed, grabbing hold of your hands to stop you from getting ready for work. 

“Jaime, I know you want to do everything you can to stop us from losing the house, but we need the money, wherever we can get it from,” you inhaled. 

You moved in with the Reyes three years ago after your parents kicked you out. The details are unimportant and messy but you were happy you ended up in a loving household after all. The only problem now, you’re on the brink of becoming homeless.

“But a job where drunk assholes violate you?” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes, knowing most customers haven’t gotten handsy since you started. “It’s not right,” he shook his head, squeezing your hands. “I don’t want you to have to go through that,” he rested his forehead against yours. 

You knew he meant well. It sucked having to work at a bar where wearing low-cut tops and push-up bras made for extra tips. Especially when you worked during the night. But then again, even when businesses are going bankrupt, bars are seemingly filling in at an all-time high. You had to take advantage of the dire situation even if Jaime didn’t like it.

“I can handle my own,” you smirked. “Nana taught me a thing or two,” you winked. 

“I bet she did,” he chuckled. 

“And besides,” you removed your hands from his grip, smoothing them up his arms until they rested on his biceps. “I have my big strong boyfriend to protect me,” you looked at him finding the blush forming on his face adorable.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in as he leaned forward to kiss you. His lips moved against yours slowly, one of your hands moving up to tug on the hair of the nape of his neck. 

Living in a small house with five other people gave you no privacy whatsoever, so moments like these were cherished. All those stolen glances, hidden kisses, late-night talks—it all meant something. 

“I gotta go, okay? I’ll see you in the morning,” you pulled away. 

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you walk to work alone at eleven at night,” he grabbed your arm lightly, pulling you back into his embrace. “I’ll be there to pick you up at seven too,” he said and you sighed out contently.

“It means a lot, but don’t you have your job interview tomorrow?” you rested your head against his chest as you both walked out of your and Milagro’s room.

“I’ll sleep, wake up, pick you up, then come back and get ready,” he shrugged and you agreed with his well-thought-out plan. 

“Ya te vas, mija?” Rocio asked once you both entered the kitchen and you nodded. “Cuidate, y come tu comida, no quiero que te desmayes,” she handed you a paper sack and you smiled, thanking her. 

It was things like that which made you grateful for Jaime’s family—your family. The constant protection and worry they hold over you like one would for a daughter or sister. Making sure you had a lunch packed so you can eat and not faint during your shift. It warmed your heart and made you grateful every day. 

“Make sure she gets there safe, okay, Jaime?” Alberto pointed to his son and your boyfriend nodded, reassuring the two. 

Walking out of the house, you found your hands intertwined as you made your way down the block. You glanced at Jaime to find him smiling at you before he looked ahead. You grinned at the fact you caught him before you too continued your focus forward.

Palerma City was alive at night, even in the small barrio you lived in. The streets were dark, flickering lamp posts illuminating the people who were still up trying to make a living by whatever means. You looked far past, the bright neon skyline of the city, all the rows of high rises where all the rich white folk were fast asleep tucked away in silk sheets. 

You would get there one day. 

“What did my mom pack for your lunch?” he asked, pulling you out of your thought.

“A torta de jamon, an apple and orange, some Fritos, and oh, a gansito,” you gasped in excitement before you stuffed the bag in your backpack. “I know exactly what I’m eating first,” you giggled. 

“My mom literally said we ran out of gansitos,” he said in shock. “She loves you more than me,” he feigned hurt and you wrapped your arm around him, cooing as you kissed his cheek.

“What can I say? I’m lovable,” you hummed.

The two of you turned the corner and you found yourself at “Margaritaville”, the newest establishment where you got paid minimum wage and received great tips from businessmen who got off on a pretty bartender flirting with them before they made their way home to their wives. Or from people who recently got laid off from their jobs and needed someone to talk to.

Either way, you’d put on your best smile, bat your lashes and make sure your top was low enough if that meant being able to pay part of the rent.

“Be safe, okay?” Jaime pulled you in for a hug. “I’ll be awake at 6:30,” he promised. 

“I will,” you mumbled into his neck before pulling away. “See you soon,” you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

He cupped your cheek before you pulled away, your fingers pulling along his, straining to stay in touch as you kept moving toward the door until they unlinked, his arm stayed hovered in the air for a split moment while yours dropped to the side. He watched as you turned back and waved until you entered through the back door, making sure to stay for a minute before he turned back around. 

The lingering touch of you remained on his fingers until he arrived home and made his way to bed. It wasn’t fair you had to become a main stream of income for the house. It shouldn’t be you pulling in the long hours, it should be him.

He needed to get that interview at Kord Industries tomorrow.

~

You undid your apron, shoving it back into your backpack. You let out a sigh as you did a once over to the barely empty bar. The next shift already arrived and was taking care of the customers. Letting out a yawn, you placed your tips in your pocket, opening the back door only to be greeted by Jaime who was waiting at the curb.

“Buenos dias, mi amor,” he smiled and you felt your cheeks blush at the pet name he liked to change out every once in a while. “Made you breakfast,” he handed you something rolled in some paper towels before you unveiled two bean burritos. “How was work?” he kissed your cheek while he took your bag from you.

“Made $150 in tips,” you stated, biting into your food. “Getting paid tomorrow, so it went well,” you nodded. “Customers were more to themselves tonight, except for this one guy who was crying about his wife leaving him. I think he left looking for a prostitute to be honest,” you chuckled. 

“Poor dude,” he hummed. “But the money is good,” he said, wrapping his arm around you. 

The rest of the short walk was made in silence and it was calming to just have Jaime by your side. The eight-hour shift takes it out on you and you couldn’t wait to go to sleep. 

“Hola,” you greeted as you walked through the door. 

“Como te fue?” Nana asked and you responded to her before a yawn came out.

“Disculpe,” you pressed a hand to your chest. “I’m gonna go shower,” you said, the family understanding as you made your way to your room. 

After a quick shower and changing into casual wear, you felt refreshed as you walked back into the family room. The whole family was gathered as Jaime stood in the middle, hair geled back and his fancy clothes put on.

“Wow, que chulo,” you complimented with a bright smile plastered on your face as you stood behind the couch. 

“You see, cabezon? You look fine,” Uncle Rudy told his nephew and Jaime nodded in defeat, clearly flustered. “Y/N wouldn’t lie, she loves you too much for that!” he cackled and you joined in, making Jaime blush even more.

“Let’s go and get this over with, I still don’t trust that Jenny girl,” Milagro muttered under her breath and you sent a glance at Jaime. 

You were aware of what happened when Milagro and Jaime lost their job with Victoria Kord. Millie was correct to have a distaste for the older lady, but after her niece offered an olive branch, giving Jaime an opportunity–you weren’t sure if she was in the right to have that distrust. But then again, you weren’t there.

“Descansas, okay?” Nana kissed you on the cheek and gave you the blessing before she walked out and you nodded. 

The rest of the family walked out, leaving you and Jaime left. 

“Good luck, okay?” you grabbed his face and gave him a chaste good luck kiss. “I know you’re gonna woo them over,” you sent him a sure smile. 

“How are you so sure about that?” he held your wrists, running his thumbs over your delicate skin. 

“Cause, you’re Jaime Reyes”.

~

“You don’t know what’s inside?” you heard Millie ask. 

You were awakened by muffled conversations, your brows furrowing as you checked the time. They couldn’t have come back that soon and if something serious happened, they would’ve woken you up. 

About to drift back to sleep, you eyes shot open by shouting. The voices of Jaime, Millie, and Rudy combine together. Bolting out of bed fast, you opened the door and ran into the dining room, finding Millie and Rudy to be playing hot potato with a blue bug, Jaime trying to get them to stop.

“Mira, look what you did! You woke her up,” Rocio gestured to you and the room suddenly got quiet. 

“Ay, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Jaime winced, trying to grab the thing from Millie but she held it out of his reach. 

“Look what Jaime brought back. That Jenny girl is a total floozy, like what is this that she gave him?” she cocked a brow, holding it clearly so you could see.

“A bug?” you rubbed your eyes. “Why would she give you a bug?” you asked, walking closer. 

“She told me to guard it with my life, I wasn’t even supposed to open it,” your boyfriend explained and his words made you uneasy. 

“I think you should put it back, you don’t know what it can be,” you turned to Millie. 

“She’s right,” Jaime held out his hand and Milagro reluctantly agreed, placing it in his palm.

You watched as he was about to place it back in the box until it lit up, his face inching closer to inspect it. You stared back in amazement, the bug coming to life.

“I think it likes me,” he grinned, glancing up at you with a twinkle in your eyes that made your heart skip a beat. But that smile was instantly wiped away the moment the bug launched itself onto his face.

“JAIME!” you screeched, the family shooting up from their seats as they tried to aid him.

“It’s on your face!” Uncle Rudy screamed before he grabbed onto the bug, attempting to rip it off but it shot out a bolt of electricity, sending him across the room and Jaime against the wall. 

Your body began to shake and you wanted to run over to help Jaime but he got up, the bug detaching from his face until it crawled over his shoulder and under his shirt like a spider you wanted off immediately. 

“Jaime!” you shouted, his body thrashing around the room like he was fighting with the bug. “Baby, please,” you cried, hands over your mouth as you tried to begin to process what was going on but you couldn’t.

“Oh god,” Jaime stilled, hunched over as he looked at you. “I think it’s inside of me,” his gaze filled with panic and you felt your skin crawl. “It’s inside of me!” he screamed, hand reaching out for yours before he doubled over in pain, the bug poking out underneath his clothes before arms pierced through, sending him up against the ceiling.

Another wave of screams sounded, the love of your life’s agony cries being the worst thing you ever heard. The tears were falling down your cheeks. You wanted to help him but couldn’t. You wanted to know what was going on but didn’t. You were completely helpless in this situation.

Black goo grew over his body, his clothes burning to crisps and you were afraid of what it was going to do once it got all of him. Were you about to lose your Jaime? How did you get to this point when it was just a job interview? 

“Y/N!” his call for you made your heart stop and you tried telling him you were here but his cries drowned it out. 

Suddenly, he was completely transformed, a suit of armor in black and blue engulfed him. The cries and the screams quieted down as you all stared at him. A split second ago, you thought he was going to die, but now he was fine? It didn’t make sense. 

“Mijo?” Rocio called out as Jaime walked over to the photo of La Virgen, his illuminating yellow eyes staring back into the reflection.

“What was that?” he looked back in shock, hands over his mouth. “Did you hear that?” his voice was panicked, his expression hidden with the eyes providing just the tiniest amount of concern. 

“Jaime, what’s going on?” you took a step forward. 

“That voice, you don’t hear a voice?” he walked forward, standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by all of you. The suit seemed to have turned on, blue light glowing between grooves and you all watched in awe. “Systems check?” he mumbled, looking around the room. 

“Jaime?” you asked, noticing the arms powering up.

“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay!” he shouted just as he was flown through the ceiling before he became a dot in the sky. 

Nothing was okay.

~

Reblogs are the best!

[pricegouge]

the welly boot incident, a silly little meet cute inspired entirely by this post here cause i'm an absolute slut for the swamp thing look.

pricegaz x fem!reader one shot. A little bit of subspace as a treat but nothing explicit. Still mdni please

"Brassard, what the hell am I looking at?"

It's been a shit job from the start. Bad contractor, bad intel, bad campaign all around. John supposes he can only be happy that for once in his life, the quality of intel seems to be off in the 'right' direction - which is to say he'd rather be posted up in a field for hours with too much manpower than not enough. He's got Gaz on his right, deadly still and silent despite being hours past projected time of contact with no sign of the target. Price is spotting, growing more irritable by the minute. There's supposed to be a watch up on the south ridge to announce any incoming traffic - op related or otherwise - but the sudden arrival of one garishly dressed civilian meandering through the meadow toting a Hubble sized macro lens seems to suggest that while eight hours of fruitless vigilance may not test the most seasoned of soldiers, it is enough to beat the handlers hired to assist them. 

The silence on the comms grows long enough to get even Gaz squirming, a subtle rotation of his boot the first move he's made in hours. In his ghillie, the movement is swallowed by the shifting of grass in the wind.

"Brassard?" Price growls, inspecting this newcomer through his scope for potential threats. She certainly looks unassuming enough, as he's never known any faction of armed services to issue woven fuschia caps, long purple cardigans, or yellow welly boots. Still, confirmation on anything useful like 'where the fuck she came from,' 'was she driving a civilian car?', or 'should we take the fucking shot?' would be ideal.

"Cap?" Garrick's voice is low, smothered, cheek sealed against his rifle even after all these hours. Still lethal and ready to trust his captain's call.

John waits another beat, hoping for some forthcoming intel. Doesn't get any. "No."

"She's gonna blow our spot."

'Against who?' John wants to ask, but the question of where their overwatch disappeared to is a toss up, and while every hard-won instinct in his body tells him this whole mission is a bust and the man likely fell asleep, the paranoid option must always outweigh the most likely if one wants to see the next sunrise, and it's entirely possible the man was eliminated. 

"Well, shooting her won't make her any less hi-vis," Price sighs. Abandoning his lens, John raises his head enough to take in the whole scope of the meadow. They're posted on a small hill, sights trained down into the shallow basin where a derelict road ambles parallel a small brook, currently overflowing with springtime runoff. It's beautiful, really, dotted here and there with early blooms which nod in the gentle breeze. With the low ridge to the south simultaneously blocking most of the sun's glare and offering a great position for extra coverage, the area had presented itself first and foremost to him as a sniper's delight; but faced now with an artsy-type civilian wandering around and looking for all intents and purposes to be in her natural element, he supposes his assessment probably laid outside the norm.

"We could use her like dazzle camo," Gaz suggests instead and John's mustache twitches with a suppressed snort. It's almost tempting, except if the target does ever drive through, John doesn't trust him to simply be confused and gape at the spectacle uselessly.

John drums his fingers off the dirt irritably, returns to his scope to see if he can pick out where their backup is situated. "Shit," he hisses, taking in Brassard's limp form up on the ridge.

"Dead?" Gaz asks, voice returning to the low hum that tells Price he's slipping back into professionalism.

"Looks like," John confirms, disassembling his tripod. 

"We retreating?"

"'Course not. We're containing the civilian." Beginning to crawl forward, John spots Gaz break his scope seal for the first time since establishing it out of the corner of his eye. 

"How?"

"Physically."

***

You never even see them coming. One minute you're humming to yourself as you stage a close up of a bee and the next you're squawking and thrashing while being pulled to the ground by your ankle. Before you can even make sense of what's happened, a man settles his considerable weight onto you and clamps a hand over your mouth. "Easy," he murmurs into your ear as a mass of twigs and grease paint pulls up next to him. "Not gonna hurt ya, darlin'."

You only realize how hard you're shaking when the man next to you starts setting up a tripod and the kind of gun you've only ever seen in movies and your teeth rattle behind the calloused grip that covers them.

There's a hand on your head, palm flat and heavy as it pulls your hat off. The weight above you shifts, hips digging briefly into your ass as he moves to pocket your cap. It's slow, movements steady and calculated as the voice that continues in your ear. "I'm Captain John Price. This is my sergeant, Kyle Garrick, and unfortunately you've found yourself in a bit of a pickle."

Next to you, the man with the gun - Kyle - spares a small, commiserating smile. It does not calm you.

"If I take my hand off your mouth, you gonna stay quiet?"

You're nodding before you can even think it through, surprising yourself when your new found freedom only draws rapid pants from you instead of screams for help. 

"There's a good girl," John rumbles, lips still pressed close to your ear. His voice is low like oncoming thunder, and despite yourself, the next shudder that racks your body isn't entirely fear based. He's got a mustache of some sort, bristles soft where they press against the shell of your ear. You were set up for failure, really.

"Can you get off me?" You mean it to sound pricklier, blame it on all the hyperventilating when your voice comes out breathy.

John huffs, breath warm as it fans down your neck. He's wearing some sort of armored vest from the feel of it, but you can still feel the abs of his lower belly jump with his laughter. "What's your name, darlin'?" You don't answer him at first, still weighing whether or not you believe him. "How 'bout 'flower', hm? Look like one out here in all these colors."

"A buttercup, in those wellies," Kyle agrees and you side eye him, for the first time noticing how upsettingly handsome he is under all that grease paint. Full, pretty lips and the kind of big soft cow eyes that always turn you to putty. If you find out the man on top of you is also handsome, you're toast.

"Right, those bloody boots." John's weight shifts off you a bit and you try to scramble forward. You make it maybe an inch before he plants a wide palm on your back and pushes you back to the ground. "Hold still, flower," he rumbles and you're helpless but to comply as he kicks at your boots with his own. You ask why he's stripping you but he ignores the question, reaching back to snatch up your discarded shoes instead. "Clear?" he asks, and Kyle takes a minute to swing his scope around.

"Far as I can tell."

And then John tosses your boots into the nearby brook with an unceremonious plop.

"Hey!" you gripe, only to be silenced by John's hand clamped over your mouth again. 

His voice is sterner now when he speaks, the low murmuring from before replaced with a harsh grumble. "Hush now petal, we have to be quiet. Look at me, yeah?"

You regret it the second you do. Like Kyle, John's covered in leaves and debris and greasepaint. His eyes glint menacingly from the depths of the shadow cast by his low brim, his chops a thatch of hair only distinguishable from the mass of brush that covers him by the fact it's too well-kept. He looks like a swamp thing. He looks like the earth itself come to swallow you whole.

"I'm gonna take my hand away now, but you're going to be a good little flower and stay quiet, yeah?" You nod. His grip is so strong on your jaw that you drag his hand along with you. When he calls you a good girl this time, you can't help but melt into the grass beneath you. John seems to take your laxness for acceptance of your situation and he squeezes the nape of your neck when he pulls his hand away to set about erecting some sort of tiny telescope. He murmurs to you as he works, voice gone back to the quiet, calming rumble from before. 

"I can't get off you because you're not wearing appropriately camouflaged clothes. Even if I were to strip you of this fucking cardi, you'd still stand out like a sore thumb. That's why the wellies had to go in the stream. No good place to hide 'em." You frown back toward the brook, watch as one of your shoes goes bobbing along out of sight. The other probably sank already.

"My car's too far away to walk barefoot."

"I'll carry you," John suggests casually. He's got his little scope established now and when he lowers his eye to it, his cheek sits flush against yours. "This position is shite," he grumbles.

Kyle hums in agreement. When he speaks, his voice is teasing. "We could carry petal here back up on the hill."

"Watch it," John warns. Kyle doesn't so much as smirk. Their talk turns mostly technical after that, muttering about degrees and cardinal directions, calculating inclines. You let it wash over you in favor of contemplating your predicament. 

You trust they're military, at least. Kinda hard to fake the funk to this extent. That fact doesn't necessarily soothe you, but knowing this about them is at least better than knowing nothing about them. You suppose it doesn't matter either way though, as there's not a whole lot you can do to get yourself out of here if the way John bears down on you every time you try to wriggle out is any indication. Sometimes he breathes soothing words against your cheek. Most times, he just ignores you.

They slip into silence eventually, which makes the long, boring minutes drag even worse. You know enough to figure this is a sniper mission which means it's possible you'll be here a while, but that doesn't make you physically prepared for it. You check the positioning of the sun from time to time, but frown when you find it unchanged. You tell yourself it's only because you don't actually know how to gauge time like this.

You crack after what feels like an hour but is probably only fifteen minutes. "What are you guys supposed to be doing here, anyway?"

"Classified." John's eye is still glued to his scope, barely giving you the time of day. 

Should've figured. "Aren't I going to see it unfold anyway?"

"Might not." You're not quite sure what that means, but something about the tone makes you nervous.

"Are we gonna be here all day?"

"Hot date?" Kyle's also still glued to his scope, but something about his tone is less dismissive so you latch on.

"Yes, actually."

Finally, a break from contact as John pulls away from his scope to look at you. There's a spot of paint missing just above the trim line of his beard and your stomach flips in guilty excitement when you realize it might have transferred to your skin. Of course he ruins it, "In a fuschia cap?"

"I'll have you know I made that cap," you squawk and John only needs to twitch his mustache at you to get you to shut up. He may also raise a brow. Hard to tell under the low angle of his brim.

It's Kyle who apologizes. "It's a lovely hat, flower."

John grumbles while you thank his friend, returns to his scope as he mutters about it still not being good date attire.

"I was going to change first." You're not sure why you care what either of them think of your date outfit, but you do what the record to show you're capable of dressing sexy when needed.

"What you're wearing now looks nice." Kyle's cadence is complementary, but it's the same tone he had used to pick on John earlier so you know he's referring to the absence of one cap and a pair of silly wellies.

Well, you can be quippy, too. "Think I'm currently wearing your boss."

Both men laugh. Kyle takes his eye off the scope to take in the spectacle on his left for the first time since setting up. "Like I said, looks good on you," he winks.

"Eyes on the prize, Gaz."

"Were, sir." Kyle - Gaz?- cackles when you have at him, but ducks back to his scope and you huff, already bored again.

John notes your frustration and decides to make it worse. "Might not make your date, flower. At this rate we'll be here all night."

"'Course," you mutter, tucking a bit of bramble more thoroughly into the netting that adorns the sleeve in front of you. "First date I land in months, and then comes you lot."

"Sure he'll understand." John sounds distracted. When you glance at him, he's staring down at the way you're weaving into his equipment.

"He'll understand I got pinned under an army sniper?"

"Could tell him you got laid up with -."

"Shouldn't you be keeping quiet, sergeant?"

"Sorry, sir."

You glance between the two of them, but they're both resolute in their professional silence now. You sigh again, folding your arms under yourself to rest your head on. 

A moment passes. Another.

"Got a fox in my shot."

"Two o'clock?"

"There 'bouts, yeah."

"Saw 'im poking 'round a moment ago."

You nearly knock John's chin with how quickly you raise your head. "I wanna see."

"Hush," John instructs dismissively. 

You huff, and then remember you don't need him anyway. Wriggling your hips what little you can, you feel the hard cylinder of your lens press against your right thigh and you squirm around until you can feel it under your fingers.

"What're you doin?" John's lifted slightly off you, but you think it's a move probably rooted more in curiosity than an actual desire to make your task easier. Still, you'll take it.

Grinning triumphantly, you pull your camera up until it rests next to John's tripod and then frown, dejected, when you spot the snap halfway up the barrel. "Must've fell on it," you pout.

John is unsympathetic. His hand is big enough to encase the whole unit when he grabs it, flinging camera and all into the stream with another disheartening splash. 

Your cry dies in your throat this time, the fight gone out of you. When you slump back onto your arms dejectedly, John pats your elbow. "Material could've caught the light, flower. Had to be done."

You pout anyway. "Bloody expensive."

"I'll buy you a new one."

"You will, cap? Or will the service?"

"You will, if you don't shut up." 

"Wouldn't mind. Get 'er a real nice one. Anything you've had your sights on recently, buttercup?" 

"Don't have my sights on anything, currently," you snark and you can practically feel John roll his eyes. 

"Christ, here." He fiddles with the device a bit, then leans back enough he can guide your face up to the viewfinder. You keep a squeal of delight bottled in your throat when John's hand lingers over your jaw, reminding you how you need to keep quiet.

You watch the fox happily for a moment, content to let the boy's low conversation wash over you as you let this new amusement pass the time. Except then the fox wanders out of frame and when you move the scope in order to follow, you only seem to muck it up more. 

"Give me that," John grumbles, not unkindly. You slump back down anyway, like a child.

"Forearms, cap," Gaz drawls and you see John peel away from his scope long enough to look down at you. He grunts in acknowledgement, fiddles with his tripod, and then lowers himself even further onto you, wrapping one scraggy arm around your own to block you in completely.

It's so much worse. John runs hot, apparently, and without the breeze on your face at least, you're sweaty within minutes; or maybe hours, hard to tell. 

You've nothing better to do so you try synching your breathing with John's, thinking maybe that's the secret to his seemingly infinite patience. It's hard work, though, his breaths somehow both shallow and slow, and you wind up counting them instead to pass the time. 

Eight sets of one hundred later, Gaz breaks the silence with a low murmur which may as well be an explosion with how much it startles you out of your reverie. 

"Gotta piss." 

Your voice is floaty when you complain, head wobbling up to eye him. "Ew." 

John's stern chastising Kyle, calm when he brushes his lips against your ear. "Quiet, sergeant. Go back under, petal." You hum in agreement, duck into his arm, count his breaths again.

You lose track after another five hundred, content yourself to feel the warmth of him contrast with the cool damp of the soil underneath you. You remember the sight he makes above you, a rolling crest of greenery pulling you under. You blame your sleepy state when you begin to fantasize about it like some old myth; Hades collecting his dues. When he does speak again it's low enough you're not sure it actually comes from above you, half convinced you're hearing the movement of tectonic plates deep below instead. He sounds pissy though, despite his low, soothing tone, and you try to blink yourself into wakefulness, peering around to find Kyle unloading his gun with distractingly deft fingers.

"What's wrong?" You ask, dumbly, and John drops his hand from his radio back to your shoulder, rubbing at you with a heavy, steady hand. 

"Nothing, flower." To Gaz he adds, "Liked him better when he was dead,"

Gaz side eyes him, begins to load his gun back up. "Say the word, cap." His voice is so serious you only figure he's joking when John puffs a laugh across your cheek. 

You watch as John disassembles his own equipment, the weight of him almost fully pressing down on you now that both his arms are raised and busy. It's strange but you're almost sad it's over; it had been oddly relaxing, tucked away underneath him.

"You awake yet?"

"Wasn't asleep." He keeps pulling away from you, but the ground is cold so you get your hands underneath yourself and push up, following.

"Right. You ready to get up, then?"

John's movements are still slow and heavy. When you nod, he levers himself up to a kneeling position, wraps his hands around your tummy to bring you up as well. He sits there a minute while tucking various tools and things into his pockets and placing your cap back on your head. It takes you a moment to realize the way he's seated has him straddling your calves. He doesn't seem to mind how you lean back into his chest. 

"What time is it?" 

"Still hoping to make your date?" Gaz teases. He gets his equipment settled and holds out a hand to you to help you stand. When your feet catch on John's big boots, the captain steadies you with a hand on your back.

You'd nearly forgotten about the mousey little man who would likely be left waiting for you downtown. He doesn't hold much appeal anymore but you lie anyway and tell Gaz yes.

"More bad luck there, petal," John commiserates. His voice should be further away now that he's not laying on you, surely? When you turn you find him standing far too close, somehow seeming even larger now despite no longer crushing you into the ground. Gaz is tall too, you note, and between the two of them in their ghillies, you imagine you look like some illustration from a fairytale book: the barefoot maid and her two elements, maybe. It's silly, distracting, which is why you've already forgotten what he's talking about when John continues, "'fraid you still got debrief to sit through." 

"Huh?" You ask stupidly, and then yip when John throws you over his shoulder.

"Debrief. Could take all night," Gaz winks. "Looks like you're ours for the evening, flower."

"Oh. Well, you do still owe me a camera."

Gaz laughs, neat white teeth splitting his face in a handsome smile. "That's right, and cap here owes you some boots."

"Any color you want, flower," John agrees.

next>>

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A chance encounter

Words: 1,732 [also on AO3]

Rated: E

Tags: No UD AU; Future fic; Record label owner Eddie; Waiter Steve; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Blood and violence; Prostitution (implied); Attempted non-con; Homophobic language; Steve Harrington whump; Eddie Munson whump; Protective Eddie Munson; Protective Steve Harrington

Notes: Happy birthday, @house-of-the-moving-image! I hope you have the most wonderful of days. I'm so happy to have found you as a friend and partner in crime. Hope you enjoy your extra long chunk of Upside Diner, even though it turned out quite gritty for a birthday fic. 😅💕🛼

Eddie grumbles under his breath as he locks the office door and steps out into the dark street. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loves his job. Hellfire Records is his baby. Making music, working with all sorts of different artists and bands, helping them make a name for themselves - it’s everything he ever wanted and never thought he could have growing up in the smalltown hell of Hawkins, Indiana. 

What he doesn’t love is the meetings and the paperwork and the phone calls, especially on days like this, when it all drags on until well into the night. 

The echoes of his boots bounce off the empty streets as he makes his way towards the little diner at the corner. Checking his wristwatch, he swears again. Fuck, it’s even later than he thought. What if Steve’s shift is already over? The thought makes his stomach clench with an unpleasant feeling that distinctly feels like disappointment. The realization makes him pause and furrow his brow. 

Maybe it’s a little bit pathetic, how quickly his visits to the diner have become the highlight of his day. Maybe it’s a little bit weird that he hasn’t had dinner anywhere else in literal weeks. Maybe it’s a little bit creepy, this obsession with a boy he knew fleetingly in highschool. An obsession that makes him come by every single day after work, without fail, just to chew on soggy fries and greasy burgers and watch said boy waiting tables, gliding around like an angel in chunky roller skates and stupidly short shorts. 

Maybe he has a problem. 

And maybe he doesn’t care. 

Because for all his initial reluctance and bite, Steve has actually started coming around. Has been accepting Eddie’s money and attempts at conversation with barely a complaint. Has even stopped asking why Eddie keeps ordering way too much food for one person alone, taking the leftovers behind his counter to munch on. Hell, last week when Eddie came in, he even looked up from the order he was taking and flashed him a wave and smile. Eddie rode that high all night and well into the next day. 

It’s the memory of that smile that makes him pick up his steps. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll catch Steve at the tail end of his shift and convince him to stay around for a little longer. 

The diner is empty, except for a lone person in uniform wiping down tables behind the neon-lit window pane. It isn’t Steve. Eddie spares one glance at the bored-looking girl and turns away with an annoyed groan. That’s it, he thinks, pulling his headphones from his pocket and slamming them on with a little more force than strictly necessary. Tonight officially sucks. Time to go home and fix himself some SpaghettiOs, turn on a late night show and fall asleep in front of the- 

For the rest of his life, he’ll thank fate for making him fumble with his discman. Because if he’d hit the play button a second earlier, he would never have heard the voices. But this way, he does, and this way, he halts his steps, peering into the narrow side alley with a wrinkled brow. The light of the streetlamps only reaches so far, and everything he can see are the dumpsters and old cardboard boxes at its entrance. Beyond them, everything is dark. 

“Dude, get your hands off me, I said no.” 

Steve.

Eddie is halfway around the dumpsters before he even knows it, heart beating in his ribcage like a jackhammer. The alley reeks of piss and rotting garbage. At its far end, almost hidden behind another dumpster, are two figures. Eddie can’t make out their faces, but he also doesn’t need to. The colorful uniform is unmistakable, even in the murky half-light, even though it’s paired with a pair of sneakers rather than roller skates. And besides, he’d know that ridiculously floofy hairdo anywhere. 

He doesn’t know the other man. Only knows that the guy's hands are grabbing Steve’s arms and shoulders hard enough to leave marks as he attempts to wrestle him to his knees. 

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” the man hisses just as Eddie rounds the dumpster. “I’ll make it quick.” 

“Are you deaf or stupid?” Steve sneers, trying to struggle out of his hold. “I said get your fucking hands off me.” 

The man slaps him across the face. Steve makes a pained noise and loses his balance, going down on his knees on the dirty ground. 

The man laughs, curt and mean.

“There you go,” he coos. One of his hands grabs a fist full of chestnut hair while the other reaches for the half-undone fly of his pants. “Now be a good little slut and-” 

The force of the impact sends the discman tumbling from Eddie’s pocket. It shatters on the ground somewhere, parts flying in all directions, but he doesn’t have eyes for it. Instead, he grabs the asshole by the lapels of his cheap suit and hauls him against the nearest wall. The back of the asshole’s head hits the bricks, and Eddie thinks he hears something crack. Good. 

“Eddie?” 

While the man sags against the wall, groaning and cradling his head, Eddie whirls on Steve. Steve, who's just swaying to his feet, eyes wide and shocked. His cheek is flushed and starting to bruise. 

“Shit,” Eddie swears. “Are you-” 

Pain explodes inside his skull, sudden and all consuming. He stumbles, trying to keep his footing and cracks his head on the hard metal edge of the dumpster in the process. He manages to blink the stars from his vision just in time to see the man's fist flying at him. The blow makes his ears ring and copper flood his mouth, and when he regains his senses, he's on the ground with two hands closing around his throat. 

“Thought you'd play the hero, huh?” The man's grin is a manic grimace. A glob of spit hits Eddie’s cheek. “Well, how'd that work out for you, you stupid little-” 

“Hey, shitface!” 

The man snarls and turns. Eddie doesn’t see what happens, just knows that something goes crunch and suddenly the hands pressing down on his windpipe are gone. The man's voice turns into a high-pitched wail of pain. 

Eddie rolls around, coughing and gasping for air, and props himself up on his elbows. The man has shrunk against the next wall, clutching at his face. Crimson blood is bubbling out from between his fingers, hitting the alley floor in a steady pattern of drips. 

“Fuck off,” Steve says and lowers the hand holding the roller skate. His voice is deadly calm, his face steely. “Remember to put away your dick first.” 

The guy stares at him. Steve raises the roller skate again, just a little. The asshole whimpers and scrambles upright, mumbling something to himself. Eddie thinks he catches something about fucking lunatic fags, but he can't be sure, what with the way his voice comes out all wet and garbled. And then he's gone, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.

Steve drops the roller skate. 

“Fuck,” be whispers, crouching down next to Eddie and brushing hesitant fingers over his split lip. Ten minutes ago, Eddie would’ve given anything to feel those hands on his face, but now he winces and recoils at the sting of pain. 

Steve retracts his hand, flopping down on the ground with a heavy sigh. The shorts ride up with the movement, exposing strong, muscled thighs. His knees are scraped from hitting the asphalt, little droplets of blood beading on the torn skin. 

“What’d you go and do that for?” Steve asks, scrubbing a hand down his face. All of the steel is gone from his voice. He sounds tired instead, infinitely tired. “I had it under control.” 

Eddie can’t help it, he barks a laugh. “Oh, did you, big boy? When was that, exactly? When he backhanded you? Or when he had you by the hair and was about to shove his cock down your-”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who got punched and choked half to death!” Steve snaps. 

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it again. The boy has a point, sort of. He doesn’t need a mirror to tell which one of them is looking the worse for wear right now, not with the white-hot pain still throbbing through his face with every heartbeat. 

“He didn’t choke me half to death,” he mutters lamely. Steve huffs a humorless laugh. 

“Thanks, anyway,” he then says. It comes out so quietly that Eddie nearly misses it, and when he looks up, Steve has averted his eyes. Eddie has an acute flashback to their first meeting at the diner, when Steve reluctantly accepted his tip money. “Could’ve gone a lot worse if you hadn’t shown up.” 

Eddie feels his mouth tug into a grin, even though his lip stings like an entire beehive. 

“Anytime, Stevie. Now c’mon, let’s get outtaaaaah, shit.” 

Trying to stand is a bad idea. The moment he’s upright, another firework of pain goes off behind his temples and the ground tilts out from under him. The only thing that saves him from going right down again is Steve jumping to his feet and looping one of Eddie’s arms around his shoulders. 

“Shit, he got you good,” he mutters. Eddie can only hum in agreement, too preoccupied with keeping the meager contents of his stomach down. “We should probably get you somewhere with a first aid kit at least.” 

“‘s okay,” Eddie slurs, inadvertently leaning closer into Steve’s warmth. He smells of shampoo and frying fat and blood. “I’ll be fine, I live nearby.” 

Steve’s eyes flit over his face, then off to the side, then back to his face again. He licks his lips and even in his dazed state, Eddie can clearly see how he wars with himself. Finally, he gulps and straightens his spine. 

“Okay,” he says, adjusting Eddie’s weight on his shoulders. “Let’s go then.” 

It’s weird, Eddie thinks as they start to hobble their way down the dark street. He must’ve fantasized a thousand times about taking Steve Harrington home, but never once did he think it’d play out like this. Then again, things in his life rarely go as he imagines, so he supposes he’s just gonna roll with it.

Part 4 Tag list: @grtwdsmwhr @p0lybl4nkk @fairytalesreality @colidamae @dissociatingdemon

@steddhie @formosusiniquis @steddiehasmywholeheart @ellaelsinore @rozzieroos

[probably-writing-x]

Better For You

Spencer White x Reader

Summary: You knew Spencer outside of his ‘Spider’ persona. You knew the boy he was outside of the school crowd. But when the two worlds collide, will you see him for who he actually is?

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of spiking, cursing

———

“Spencer White?” You glance up from the diary in front of you, “Starting today?”

The tall boy in front of you clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, “Yeah, yeah, that’s me. You can call me Spider.”

You scrunch your nose at his request, “Yeah I’m not gonna do that.”

He scoffs, “Alright, and what do I call you?”

“(Y/n),” You respond, “It’s just us two today so I can show you the ropes.”

“Can’t be that hard right? Sell people tickets, serve popcorn, pour a few drinks?”

You stare at him with a black expression, evidently unimpressed.

He looks down at his feet and then back up to you, “Okay, where do I start?”

Spencer was about the same age as you, you assumed. Your boss had said he came across as ‘confident and enthusiastic’ in his interview but both of those things seemed a little uncertain now.

You’d been working at the movie theater for nearly a year now, your uncle knew the manager so you’d been a shoo in from the moment you were old enough to work. It was long hours, late days, annoying customers, but it earned you money and that was all it needed to do.

“Let’s start with popcorn.”

———

That was two months ago now. You now spent nearly every shift with Spencer. He made the long nights feel like they ended earlier. He snuck you free food, dealt with the annoying customers for you, sped around the screens quicker than you so you didn’t have to do as much cleaning. He took extra hours so he could work when you worked.

You’d learnt in that two months that he was working here after an argument with his mum where she told him he’d never worked a day in his life. He’d taken this job to prove her wrong. That was on one of your late night shifts after a midnight screening. It was just the two of you and he was evidently down, evidently in need of someone to talk to. He’d opened up to you. You’d told him that you were sorry, though you weren’t exactly sure what for. He’d laughed and told you that if his Mum saw him like this she’d tell him this wasn’t work.

He drove you home that night, same as every night. And he thanked you before you got out of the car. He didn’t tell you what for, just said ‘thank you”. He needed it more than you did.

Now, he had your number and you had his. And you texted when you weren’t at work together. He sent you songs he thought you’d like, mainly from rock bands he’d heard at a concert that weekend. You sent him films he should watch and he forced himself to watch them, giving you a running commentary with text updates every few minutes.

You spoke to him more than you spoke to your other friends. You told him things before you told them nowadays too. But you two never saw each other outside of work. Separate schools, separate lives.

“Here,” You hand him over a stack of medium cups to add to the supplies at the counter.

Spencer takes them from you, loading them up onto the pyramid of cups you’d been making. It was a quiet day.

“You know if these fall you’re picking them up,” You comment, handing him another two cups.

Spencer adds them too and steps back with his hands raised as if he’s going to catch it, “Yeah, yeah, I figured.”

You grin, both of you admiring your handiwork.

“So,” He steps back to lean against the machine behind him, “I had a question.”

“A question,” You repeat, “Mysterious.”

“I know we’re not working on Saturday. My mates are having a party at the weekend, it’s stupid really, like this graveyard thing,” He shakes his head, “I was just… would you… would you want to come?”

You frown a little, as if taken aback but not wanting to admit it, “Are you…”

“You don’t have to, it’s a stupid idea really, I don’t know why we-“

“Yeah, I’ll come,” You nod, “I’m not here, so I’ve got nothing else to do.”

He smiles, “Alright, well then it’s a date.”

“Is it?” You cock a brow, folding your arms over your chest.

“I-“ His cheeks turn a dark shade of pink, “Shut up.”

Spencer rolls his eyes and steps forward, collapsing down the pyramid of cups into stacks in front of him.

———

Spencer texts you the location and you walk there as the sun’s going down - a little later than he’d suggested so you didn’t look awkward and eager.

It’s eerie when you think of it - a clearing in a graveyard converted into a party location. There’s already a crowd building, a mismatched stack of alcohol at one side and a littering of people you didn’t recognise mingling around.

Why had you agreed to come? You didn’t know a single soul here beyond Spencer. And surely he had other friends he’d want to see? The thoughts of turning around and pretending to have never arrived start coursing through your head. Your feet come to a stop, as if you’re preparing to disappear back into the surroundings.

“There you are!”

And there he is.

Through the crowd, you spot the familiar sight of that blonde floppy hair. The way his face curls up into that signature smile. He’s holding a red solo cup in each of his hands, extending them wide as if hugging you through the air.

“Was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“Yeah, I’m still not sure about the whole… graveyard thing.”

Spencer laughs, “Yeah you just need to drink enough so you don’t think about it.”

He hands one of the cups to you and you take a sip.

“Careful, they’re probably spiked,” A girl walks past the two of you, eying Spencer with evident disgust.

She’s got dark short hair and a brightly coloured jacket with a black dress and she looks at you as if shes worried about you.

“Fuck off Amerie,” Spencer snaps, rolling his eyes at her.

You glance up at him and back to her and she offers you a small smile like she’s trying to warn you of something. She walks off over to another group of people and Spencer turns back to you.

“What was tha-“

“Come on, I want to introduce you to some people,” He places a hand gently on the middle of your back as if guiding you through the crowd.

There’s a group of boys over the other side, shouting loudly at each other and making vulgar gestures to go alongside whatever conversation they were having.

“Oi dickheads,” Spencer calls over, “Be normal for a minute, ay?”

The boys stop and turn around, both of them looking at you and then back to their friend.

“This is (Y/n),” He looks down at you and then back to them.

“(Y/n)!” One of the boys grins widely, “We’ve heard a lot about you. You moved in by Spider right?”

“Wh-“

“This is Ant, and that’s Dusty,” Spencer gestures between the two of them before you can say anything else.

“Nice to meet you,” You smile softly, “You know Spencer from school?”

“Yeah, basically since we could walk,” Dusty smiles at you, “We can tell you all the gory details.”

“Alright, alright, I’m right here,” Spencer shakes his head, standing close enough to you that his side is against yours, his arm still placed on your back.

He’s got that way about him. The feeling that you could just melt into his connection. You couldn’t explain it, but in a crowd of people you didn’t know, you were glad he was still beside you.

———

“So how does the dunny situation work here?”

Spencer turns to you and laughs, the two of you now at the edge of the party as people had started dancing in the middle. It was dark now, and you were stood just inches closer to Spencer to make the most of his radiating warmth.

“You find a spot where nobody can see you, and you put in some squat training,” He smiles, the kind of smile that creases his eyes.

“Oh how glamorous,” You wiggle your brows, placing your cup into his hand, “I’ll be right back.”

His fingertips linger on yours as your hand pulls away from his, his eyes lingering on you for even longer as you walk away.

You trail out away from the crowd and down a small path away from any prying eyes until you bump into the sound of giggling girls just ahead of you.

“Oh shit, sorry, I was just looking for somewhere to piss,” You clear your throat.

“Hey, wait, wait, wait,” One of the girls looks over to you, “You’re the girl that Spider was with right?”

It was the girl from earlier. The one Spencer had told to fuck off.

“Yeah, I’m (Y/n),” You offer a smile.

The girl’s friend stands up and zips up her trousers, both of them walking closer to you.

“I don’t want to sound like a cunt, but just be careful with him,” The girl, Amerie says.

“Am,” The other girl hits her arm, “You’re going to scare the poor girl.”

You look at her and fold your arms around you as if shrinking away from them, evidently uncomfortable.

“He’s just…” The other girl begins, “Very outspoken. He’s not exactly the nicest guy at Hartley.”

“He’s a grade A cunt,” Amerie adds, “And you seem like way too good for him.”

“Alright, we’re gonna go before Amerie says anything worse,” The other girl confirms, “Have a good night yeah?”

They both walk past you and you stand stuck in your spot, repeating over everything they had said. Spencer had been the nicest boy ever since you’d known him. He was thoughtful and funny and he was who you looked forward to seeing every shift. But everyone here seemed to be talking about a different boy when it came to him. To the girls, he was like the worst guy they’d known. And why had he lied to the boys about how he knew you?

“(Y/n)?”

You turn in your spot to see him stood behind you, far enough away that you can only make out his silhouette in the dark.

“You’d been a while, I was just making sure you were okay,” He speaks so softly you feel your heart skip a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” You clear your throat, walking towards him.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Spencer offers, “I reckon the coppers will be here soon.”

“Yeah,” You smile at him lightly, “I’ll probably book an Uber-“

He holds his cup out towards you, “I’m not drinking. I’ll drive you home.”

Spencer tugs his jacket off from his shoulder and places it around yours his hand slipping down beside your arm until his hand is hovering beside yours. You interlock your hand with his and he smiles once more, like he’s relieved at the contact.

———

The drive back isn’t far, and the empty roads make it even quicker. Spencer still indicates every time he needs to, drives the limit rather than anything over, glances at you every so often to make sure you were okay in the passenger seat.

He pulls up in front of your house and shuts off the engine.

“So, will you be rushing back to a graveyard party any time soon?” He leans his head back against the headrest and turns it towards you.

“I think I’ll stick to the beach or a house party for now,” You nod, running your hands over the cold skin of your thighs.

Spencer laughs, “Yeah I-“

“Can I ask you something?” You interject, the thought practically spilling from your mind.

He frowns, nodding slightly.

“Why did the boys think I was your neighbour? Did you not tell them we worked together?”

Spencer swallows the lump in his throat, “I didn’t tell them about the job.”

You furrow your brows, “Is working at a movie theater really that bad?”

He lets out a deep breath, “It’s not that.”

There’s a stillness in the air between you. That sort of tension that he always managed to dissipate. He’s calm and yet the air seems to be full of all the nerves he could muster in your presence.

“I don’t really talk to them about anything with my Mum, or home, or anything. And I guess I figured if they knew about the job they’d start asking questions and it’s just… not something I tell people.”

“You told me.”

Spencer chuckles a little, “You’re easier to talk to.”

You smile at him and the tension in his shoulders seems to relax a little, “I guess I can pretend to be your neighbour next time.”

“Next time?” He raises his brows, “So you did like the graveyard.”

You laugh, your gaze averting to the darkness looming over your house, not a single light on.

“So, my parents are away,” You say quietly, like you’re now the one holding all of the nervous energy, “Do you want to… I mean you could…”

“Yeah.”

You laugh, unsure at what point in your time knowing him had it become so easy for Spencer to make you nervous.

———

He sits at the end of the bed whilst you get ready in the bathroom. You take off your makeup, wash your face, tie back your hair and change into your pyjamas. They were one of the cuter sets you owned - different to the normal baggy t-shirt you’d wear. But if there was ever a time to wear a nicer set, it was whilst Spencer would be the one you were sharing a bed with.

When you walk back in, he looks up from the book he had in his hands - one he’d taken from your nightstand.

“Didn’t think that would be your kind of thing,” You nod towards it, walking over to your side of the bed.

“Too many big words,” He smiles, setting it back down and shuffling backwards on the bed.

He was wearing only his t-shirt and boxers now - his other clothes folded in a pile on the chair in front of your vanity.

“Okay we’ve got a problem here,” You comment, looking down at him.

“What’s that?” He asks, swinging his legs around so that he’s sat at the side of the bed facing you, his knees bumping against your legs.

“This is my side of the bed,” You mention.

“Oh is it?” Spencer cocks a brow at you and you hum in response.

His hands reach out and gently brush the skin of your thigh, trailing upwards towards your waist as if drawing you towards him. You let him guide you, shifting until you are straddling his lap. Neither of you speak, Spencer’s hand moving around to hold your back, one remaining on your waist. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes focused on his like you’re seeking that comfort.

“Can I kiss you?” Spencer whispers, the words seeming to tumble from his lips.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, “Yes.”

The corners of his mouth upturn just slightly, his eyes flicking between your eyes and your lips. And then, he closes the gap just enough. His lips press against yours, soft and cautious but somehow so certain of themselves. His hand moves to cup your jaw, drawing more of you to him as his fingertips tangle into your hair. When he pulls away, his lips curl into a smile, forehead pressing against yours.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do that,” He whispers, as if not wanting anything else to ruin the moment.

You laugh, leaning into him, “This is still my side.”

Spencer chuckles, holding one arm tightly around his waist to shuffle you both back across the mattress. He shifts to lay you down on one side of the bed before settling down on the side beside you, his arm outstretched to pull you into his chest. You can feel his heart beating against your ear and you’re relieved for a second he is sharing in the same adrenaline that you are.

His fingertips trail up and down your arm, the most delicate touch he could muster.

“I’m sorry I lied to the boys about you,” He speaks the words quietly into the air of the room.

You tilt your head upwards just enough that you can see his face, “We already spoke about this, you don’t have to-“

“Yeah but I didn’t apologise properly and I should do,” He nods, “It shouldn’t be your problem to have to lie to them too.”

“Would it really be so bad if they knew you had a job?”

Spencer shakes his head, tucking his other arm beneath his head on the pillow, “No, it wouldn’t. I just don’t like the thought of them knowing everything that goes on at home. It’s easier to go into school and act like none of that exists.”

You lean up onto your elbows and turn to face him, reaching up a hand to run through the hair falling at the side of his forehead, “Would it not be easier if you could talk to them about it?”

He wraps an arm around your waist, his eyes flitting between each of yours, “I don’t think I’d even know what to say.”

Spencer leans up just enough to kiss you again, gentle and fleeting.

He pulls you back down to his chest and tugs the blanket up over both of you. The pair of you stay there, like that in each other’s arms, until his breath starts to even out and he falls asleep - though, even then, his arms don’t loosen from around you.

———

Spider is back at school on Monday morning. He’d spent all of Sunday with you - waking up at your house, driving you both to work, and then taking you to dinner afterwards. It was the first time he’d ever woken up and instantly wanted to text someone, sending you a quick ‘good morning’ along with his complaints for not wanting to go to school today. He felt like a child with his first crush. Though, when he thought about it, maybe this was the first proper crush he’d had. No other girl had made him feel like this. And he’d savour it for as long as he could.

“Oi dickhead, are you listening?” Dusty interrupts his thoughts, the two of them walking towards the locker room to get changed.

“No,” Spider shrugs, “Do I need to be?”

“You missed a killer end to the party man,” Dusty points out, pushing the door open to where the rest of the boys already were, “I can’t believe you left early.”

“Oh come on I think Spider had other things on his mind,” Ant points out as soon as he overhears the conversation.

“Yeah who the fuck was that chick?”

“Does it matter? Either way Spider was going to fu-“

“Cut it out,” Spider snaps, to nobody in particular, just hoping for anything that would stop the topic of conversation.

“Aww is Spider precious about his latest conquest?” Ant frowns, “You’ll be onto the next one by this weekend.”

“Have you ever just thought of shutting up Ant?” Spider questions, reaching down to tie the laces of his trainers, “I mean, seriously, is it so hard to think (Y/n) might just be a good person? Someone I actually like hanging out with?”

“I don’t think that’s what they’re doubting,” It’s Malakai that speaks this time.

Spider looks at him, uncertain.

“If she’s a decent person, the last guy she should be around is you.”

For a moment, he feels the silence around him. The same tightness in his chest that he got at every dinner with his Mum. The same voice in his head telling him it was impossible for him to be good.

“Well,” He clears his throat, standing up from the bench, “Good thing I don’t need to listen to you cunts.”

When he walks out onto the field, the girls are already crowded around in conversations with each other. Spider walks over, crossing towards the opposite side of the field.

“Oi Spider!”

It’s Amerie that yells after him. He turns around to see her and Harper making their way over.

“You know we told that girl from the party to stay away from you,” Amerie states strongly, offering him her most judgemental look.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You might be able to put on an act for her but she deserves to know how shitty you are.”

“Are you kidding?” Spider scoffs, “You don’t even know her, why’s it your place to say anything?”

“We don’t know her,” Amerie shrugs, “But we know you. And no girl deserves that.”

He glances around at the rest of the people on the field, across to where the boys have just started filtering outside too. Not a single person here thought well of him. Even the boys, his friends, they saw him as the boy that said what they wouldn’t say. He was funny to them before he was good. He was someone to laugh at before he’d ever be someone to talk to. He’d become a show piece at this school. The controversial one that said what nobody else would.

“Ever thought that I might want to be a decent guy? That if I actually liked someone it’s genuine?” Spider shrugs, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Oh fuck off Spider, are you even capable of that?”

“Maybe.”

———

You’d been on Spider’s mind for the whole day. And, as soon as the final bell rang, all he could think of was getting to you.

It’s not a far drive, just the other side of town. But he speeds as if it’s some sort of last ditch attempt to get to you. He hadn’t thought to text, or ask where you were, or ask if you were free. He just knew he needed to get to you. And when he pulls up in front of your house, he realises this is as far as his thoughts had taken him, he wasn’t sure what that meant now.

He knocks on the door, harshly as if he’s channeling his nerves into the sound.

It’s not you on the other side. Instead, an older woman, bearing some resemblance to you in the brightness of her eyes.

“Hi, can I help you?” Her brows furrow but she smiles at him welcomingly, warmly.

“Um-“ He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, “I just-“

“Are you (Y/n)’s friend?”

Before he can respond, you come up behind the woman and grasp her shoulders, “I’ve got this one Mum.”

You glance to Spencer and smile, instantly relaxing the tension in his shoulders.

“It was nice to meet you,” Your Mum nods to him, turning to you and giving you some sort of knowing smile as if exchanging silent words.

You step out of the front door and pull it almost-closed behind you;

“What are you doing here Spencer?”

“You didn’t tell me what the girls said to you at the party.”

“I-“ You wrap your arms over your chest as a breeze courses past both of you, “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Didn’t matter?” He half laughs, his shoulders dropping, “They practically told you to get as far away from me as you could.”

“Yeah. And that doesn’t mean I believed them.”

Spencer smiles at you just a little, but it falters quickly.

“Why do they hate you so much Spencer?”

He pauses, taking a deep breath as he looks at you like even the sight of you is enough to calm down all of the worry coursing through him.

“My whole life it’s just been me and my Mum. I didn’t have siblings, my Dad was never in the picture. And so I had this one person left that was meant to love me. You know? That was her job, right? She’s my Mum, she just needs to love me and we’d figure the rest out. My Mum treats me every day like I’m the worst guy on the planet. I’m a guy and she thinks that’s enough for me to be someone she should hate. To her, I’m destructive and thoughtless and I have all this potential do a world of wrong. She reminds me of that every day, with everything I do. She’s reminded me of it so much that I started to believe it. That’s the guy I am to them at school. That’s the guy they know. And I’d hate me too if I was them.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat, wanting to reach out for him and tell him everything he needed to hear. To heal all those years of hurt that sat on those young shoulders.

“I don’t want to be that guy when I’m with you.”

You feel it then. The way your heart skips a beat once more.

“I want to be better.”

Your face breaks into a small smile, an instinctive response.

“I believe you,” You practically whisper the words, “Everyone else might have a lot to say about you but I know the person that you are with me.”

You step forward towards him.

“And I don’t think that guys so bad.”

You watch as he visibly relaxes, grasping out for you as soon as you are within reach, his hands snaking around to your waist. Your hands move up to his chest, linking around the back of his neck.

“You deserve a chance to be better Spider,” You smile, reaching up onto the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his lips.

He hums against the contact, pulling away to say, “I prefer Spencer.”

You chuckle and he wraps his arms tighter around you, burying his head into the crook of your neck. He breathes in the scent of you in his arms, feeling his heart slow in your hold. He’s sure he could stay there forever. And you’re sure that you would let him.

[absfawn]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤcamgirl!ellie headcanons ! 𝟏𝟖+

a/n: hihi! this is something that me and @coeurify have been working on for like the past week or more. this is just a small first installment to our camgirl!ellie. we’ve spent a while sending ideas back and forth, sharing as we go and this is what we came up with. sooo, i hope that you enjoy our little camgirl!ellie headcanons. ilysm, thank you for creating this lil universe with me ♡

꒰ ♡ ꒱ camgirl!ellie who you’ve been dating for almost a year and you were always under the impression she worked at a local music store or simply at a comic book store when that was far from the truth. And she genuinely can’t help but get shy and nervous when you finally figure out what she actually does, on a day when you accidentally walk into her bedroom after a quick shift at work to find her sprawled out on your shared bed, hair messy, perky nipples hard, hips stuttering with each movement and her fingers buried in her cunt. The sounds of her pussy and soft yet gentle whimpers filled the silence of the bedroom while she looked at you with wide, doe eyes.

“well aren’t you just a sight, baby? If me coming home from work every day means i get to see you being a needy little slut, i’m definitely not complaining”

꒰ ♡ ꒱ camgirl!ellie who one night decides to sit down with you after you shockingly walked in on her during one of her live streams on one evening after a long day of work, and dinner that she felt that it was the right time to explain to you what she really did as her job. The whole time she was watching you nervously as she explained, her fingers twitching and cheeks flushed the longer you just nodded along to her words, not really replying with anything of your own, but clearly paying attention to what she was saying.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ camgirl!ellie who sometimes, on ‘certain’ nights that she knows you won’t be home from work at your usual time because you pick up extra shifts, will set up her camera in the bedroom, computer left untouched beside her, the donations already flowing the second she goes live but barely noticing what any of them say while she shamelessly scrolls through her phone, most likely looking through the pictures you’ve taken for her and only her, as she works her fingers in and out of her cunt, the soft whimpers and the sound of her pussy quickly filling the bedroom and that breathless chuckle she lets out when she’s found herself on your text messages and can barely stop herself from being a brat and sending you the link to her stream. Knowing damn well you’ll be trying to keep yourself together while at work the second you open it.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ camgirl!ellie who can’t help but clench her thighs tightly around her hand when hearing the certain donation sound going off on her computer that she almost dropped the phone onto her face when she turns just slightly to notice your high amount donation for the night. You were always donating to her, and telling her what to do, and she loved it. Some nights you were ruthless with your demands but other times you were so gentle with them. just loving the she sounds lets out when her fingers would reach that spongey spot inside her that has her eyes rolling back and thighs shaking and the way her face contorts in pleasure would have you losing your mind. Ellie loved all the donations and love she was given from the people who enjoyed what she made and what she did, but she adored and cherished yours the most.

☆ “There you go baby, spread your legs wider, wanna see all of you”

☆ “I bet you wish those were my fingers, don’t you baby? riding my fingers until you can barely think straight huh? Just need to be taken care of and fucked until you only know my name”

☆ “Oh, you’re doing so well, such a good pup”

☆ “Don’t be shy now baby, rub your pretty little clit for me while you fuck yourself, i know you can take it”

☆ “You’re so wet, been thinkin’ about me huh?”

꒰ ♡ ꒱ camgirl!ellie who definitely gets really shy when you do join one of her cam streams. You usually sit on the chair behind the camera, leaning back against the soft cushion while your eyes trail slowly between her shaking thighs, watching how she fucks her fingers in and out of her cunt at your demanded pace. Your own wetness no doubt pooling between your own thighs at the sounds of her needy whines, the slick sounds coming from her pussy, and the pathetic yet adorable pleas coming from her lips for you to touch her, always has you throwing any sense out the window as you always gave into her. “so pretty like this, baby” you coo, chuckling under your breath when her hips buck up into you when your fingers graze her thigh. “need my fingers don’t you, sweet girl? how about you use your words for me, hm? wouldn’t wanna disappoint all your viewers now would you? or disobey me by not using your words”

“n-no mommy” she whimpers, face flushed, tears stained on her cheeks and thighs twitching as your fingers slide down her stomach. “want your fingers— need them, please”

꒰ ♡ ꒱ camgirl!ellie who once she started letting you in on her… peculiar job.. just can't stop. She’s addicted. Addicted to the sight of your eyes behind the camera. Addicted to how you lounge on the couch and lick over your lips, nodding her on to that beautiful spacey feeling that takes over when she’s under your gaze. So addicted that she’s needy for you to be there when she films. She whines and begs for you to be there. Whether behind the little camera she’d saved up for, or planted right on the bed with her, face between her plush thighs— for all her viewers to watch, to see while she gets ruined.

“Where are you?” She’d huff over the phone, chewing on her cracked lip. “ ‘M at work baby, told you it’d be a late day.” Your fingers swirling around the phone cord in your office, smiling at the barely there whine in her voice. 

“But i want to film,” she would complain, squeezing her heated thighs together at the chuckle you responded with. “So film?” 

“Never cum as hard when you aren’t here.” 

꒰ ♡ ꒱ camgirl!ellie who has the idea one day to fuck you on camera. she’s shifting around on the scratchy green couch in your shared apartment, her head in your lap, fingers running through the auburn locks of hair. She’s so fidgety about it, kicking her feet, playing with her fingers, shivering too hard when you scratch at her scalp. just the thought of being on top of you has her stomach all tight, cheeks all flushed.

“why are you moving around so much?” 

“I- uh, nothing.” 

“spit it out, el.” 

“I have an idea.”

꒰ ♡ ꒱ camgirl!ellie who you actually let wear the strap, laying back on the white sheets of the bed, head tilted as you watch her shaking hands tighten the harness over her plaid boxers, a little smile on your lips when she stumbles toward you. “Gonna be good for me, make me feel good?” you coo as she pulls your hips flat against the bed, her heartbeat almost loud enough for you to hear. her fingers playing over your black panties. “mhm mommy, please let me.” she would beg, voice loud enough for the camera to hear. the minute she spoke, the minute her calloused hands spread your thighs, hooked around your panties, the donations start pouring in.

“can i go faster?” in a sweet little beg. 

“p-please, please need—need to make you cum.” 

“fuck— mommy you’re so wet. feel s’good.”

꒰ ♡ ꒱ camgirl!ellie whose viewers are just obsessed with you as she is. The views are always doubled, the chimes of the donations always steadfast when you join the auburn haired girl behind the screen, or when your voice fills the dimmed bedroom. So what’s better than a stream where they get to donate to you? Your fingers running over Ellie’s sticky and swollen folds, humming as you wait for the next donation to come in, to help you decide what to do to the squirming girl under you, begging for anything more than the slow and steady rub you give her throbbing core. Her soft cries do nothing but build up that blazing power that settles over your flesh when you see her like this. So desperate for you. 

“please put ‘em in, pl-please pleaseplease.” 

“its not me you’ve gotta beg baby, your viewers like teasing just as much as me.”

“what should i do next?” ding “ahh, see that baby? they’re finally letting me put a finger in that sweet pussy of yours.” 

꒰ ♡ ꒱ camgirl!ellie who wants nothing more than to just crawl under the covers and sleep after the camera flicks off. But you always press kisses to her cheek, murmuring soft praises against her sweaty skin as you clean off her thighs and pinch her cheeks open so she will drink the water you press against her lips. “You’re my perfect girl,” you tell her as you press new boxers up and over her shaky legs. “Did so good for me today, get some rest.” But she always pulls you right in with her, tattooed arm flexing as she tugs you against the comforter and presses her red cheek against your skin, seeking the comfort of you.

tags; @fleshunger @baumbii

[yoredoesmore]

Ya will get tired of me- Anyway. Do you know the scene from Marie Antoinette movie when she says 'a boy would be the son of France, but you Marie Thérèse shall be mine'. I've been in love with this. So here's the thing. How about reader x hoshina (I'm sorry, I'm just obsessed with him). Man idk how to describe it. How about Mina agrees to a mini tour for kids from kindergarten? (She probably wouldn't agree but we ignore that) Reader and Hoshina gives them a tour, they see how the weapons look from closer, with a safety distance ofc and etc. Then they go to the training room and they come across Hoshina team training? Like the kids are excited, the team like plays with them yk, Iharu and Izumo would bet (more like Iharu) who could do more push ups with kids on theirs back, overall every kid has a person who would give them attention. BUT. There a shy boy who stays behind. Reader sees it and ask him if he wants to see how strong she is, she asks about his name and she takes him and shows her special moves? Hoshina watches from afar how his team is having fun with theirs little fans and then he notices that reader is talking to a boy and he hears her saying 'the kids can have attention from others but you (kids name) shall receive mine' or smth like that? AND HE SEES THAT SHE'S GOOD WITH KIDS AND IT MAKES HIM FEEL WEIRD IN THE CHEST (they are dating) and he imagines how it would be with their kid? A pure fluff is all I want. 🥹💕

Special | Hoshina Soshiro

a/n: cherry you already have a special place in my heart, your requests are amazing! sorry this took so long, i'm sick ╥﹏╥ anyways, please never stop sending requests in <33

pairing: reader & little sosuke ft. Hoshina

summary: the third division hosts a tour for a small group of kindergarteners so that they can get special insight into the work of the defense force but one little kid seems to be in need of a little bit of extra attention and love.

genre: fluff/ angst/hurt & comfort

[wc: 2,7k]

another a/n: focus here is more on reader and the child than hoshina ^^

enjoy!

“A…tour? And not just any tour, a tour for little children..?” As expected, Captain Ashiro sounded more confused than convinced. Both you and Soshiro stood in front of her desk, eyes focused on your written request which she held in her hand. The Captain has been reading over it multiple times now, without giving much of a comment besides a “hm..” or a raise of her brow. A stern expression sat on her face, making it quite difficult to read her current opinion.

“Our job as Defense Force doesn't just stop once a Kaiju is neutralized. Taking care of the aftermath and trauma caused by the attacks is our responsibility as well.” You started.

“Many children have been affected by the destruction brought by the Kaiju– be it injuries, the loss of their home, friends and family or just mental trauma.” Soshiro continued.

“We want to show these children that we are a force they can trust, the people that will protect them from the terror. We want them to know that the second they see us, their life's will be in good hands.” You moved closer to Ashiro, determination glimmering in your eyes.

For a second her gaze shifted past both you and Hoshina, falling onto an empty space in her office. The woman had allowed her mind to lose itself in memories of the past, but only for a fleeting moment.

A long sigh escaped her lips as she folded her hands together and looked up at you with a serious face.

“I will ask the higher ups for permission to follow through with your..tour program, but don't get your hopes too far up. If we allow this to happen it cannot be a random group of children but rather a selected group of young individuals picked by the board itself.”

And that is how you ended up here.

Both you and Hoshina stood in front of the group of kids, each one more energetic than the other, waiting to show them around. It was a wild mixture of kids, yet they all seemed to look forward to what was to come.

Ashiro had told you that these were all children who came from special families, where at least one member was or still is part of a Defense Force. Meaning, that some or even all of them would be future soldiers.

Your husband's hands suddenly found yours as they pulled you closer, giving your fingers a soft squeeze before he clapped his hands together to address the children and caretakers who came with them.

“Welcome everyone, to Tachikawa Base, home of the Third Decision. I am Vice Captain Hoshina Soshiro and we, my coworker and I, will give you special guests a top secret tour around the base.”

Cheers and chants of joy erupted from the crowd, filling the atmosphere with excitement. Watching the children caused a warm feeling to engulf your stomach. To think that Mina actually agreed to do this, you owed her big time.

“Please make sure to walk in rows of two. If you don't have a partner, my coworker and I will take that role.”

Almost immediately the children started to assemble and divide themselves into pairs, until only one child was left.

“Guess we have a lucky one!” You smiled, reaching out your hand to the young boy.

“What's your name, little one?” The boy's eyes refused to meet yours and neither did an answer find you but you did not mind.

Being in such a huge, unfamiliar place must be quite intimidating..

You thought, hands wrapping around his small fingers.

“Let's begin with the tour, shall we?”

The base had been specially prepared for today's visit. Some more intimidating and top secret projects had been moved to different places of the base (that were more off radar) and all cadets had been asked to be on their best behavior today. Despite it being such a small group, both you and Hoshina made sure to take care of even the smallest details. Everywhere the eyes of the children landed, their gazes were sure to meet with something interesting. Weapon display, old badges and special uniforms, you name it.

“And right here is our control room.” Hoshina announced upon opening the door to the large space. Countless monitors hung on the walls, the light of the panels illuminating the dark space so that the visitors could see the technologies they were unfamiliar with.

The children shone like little balls of joy as they explored the operation room, trying to understand what monitor was used for what.

“This is Konomi Okonogi, the Operations Leader of the Third Division. When out in battle and in need of information about the Kaiju or when we need special permission to unlock our suits' full potential, she is the person we turn to.” The children nodded in amaze and immediately shot their hands up into the air to bomb the woman with questions.

But while she was trying to feed the hunger of their minds, one child remained quiet – the boy from before.

“Is there anything you would like to ask our Operations Leader?” You smiled, hands softly nudging the boy's shoulder. But the child simply shook his head, eyes once again landing on his feet. Maybe it was just wishful thinking but for a second it did look like he wanted to say something but refused to.

Unfortunately, your attention was pulled away as it was needed somewhere else in that moment– by a child that had asked a battle specific question.

The tour soon progressed to the next room. With each new space you visited the children grew more fonder of the place. When lunchtime arrived you all sat down in the cafeteria to enjoy a meal together and around afternoon the group went outside to the training ground to watch some cadets train. Every moment felt magical, well, to most of them.

On your way back inside you noticed one of the children walk on its own, a slight gap between him and his peers. Averting your gaze to Hoshina you were hoping to consult him on the situation, as it was starting to bother you greatly, but he was too busy talking to one of the caretakers. Thus you approached the child by yourself once again.

“And? How are we enjoying the tour so far?” You gave the boy another genuine smile.

“It's good..” He said, yet his words did not match the expression on his face.

Despite his lack of interest you continued to try and build up a conversation with him but your efforts went in vain. The kid was as quiet as they could come, unbothered by your attempts of warming up to him and overall not very excited to be here.

Just when you were about to try again, another child suddenly called out for you, like before, requesting your knowledge on a certain topic. The boy stayed behind the group, his eyes flickering with emotions you were unfamiliar with.

“Excuse me?” Your hands slightly tipped the shoulder of one of the caretakers.

“Who's that boy over there? The little one with the black hair.”

“Oh, him? That is our little Sosuke. Not much of a talker but a very sweet child.”

You nodded your head and sighed. “I see. Do you mind me asking why he seems so..down? Did something happen prior to your arrival or..”

The caretaker shook her head, dismissing your assumptions. “Unlike the other children, Sosuke does not seem to be skilled in any type of way. All these children come, as you already know, from renown clans that are recognized for birthing the next generation's soldiers. It is a hard burden to put on the children but all of them know what they will be once they grow up. But Sosuke..his body is too weak and frail to keep up with the other children, that becomes quiet obvious during the smallest activities like playing catch or during gymnastics hour. We tried many times to explain to him that he might be a late bloomer but the boy is strictly convinced that he isn't as special as the others and therefore deserves less attention from us..”

You felt a strong force pull on your heart while listening to the woman. To think that a child, at such a fragile age, would think so little of itself already..it was awful. Your eyes lingered on Sosuke for a while, trying to think of a way to cheer him up– but nothing came to mind. Therefore you were stuck watching the boy hide away in the bubble he had forced himself into throughout the remainder of the tour..

x

The day came to an end way too fast for anyone's liking. Although you traveled through the entire base, the minds of the children still hadn't been satisfied. They begged to visit one more room, see one more weapon– anything to postpone a goodbye. It warmed your heart, hearing them cheer you and the other cadets on, showing gratitude for all the service you provided. How could anyone resist such sweetness?

“How about we show them the training room?” Hoshina suggested and you immediately agreed. The man led the group to the indoor training area, where some of his squad members were going at it. On your way there you made sure to keep a close eye on Sosuke, still unable to give up on the boy.

“Attention everyone!” Hoshina yelled, immediately gaining everyone's attention.

“We got some visitors.”

Kafka and Reno sat in the back of the room, occupying the lifting machines while Shinomiya sat in front of the mirror to do some post workout stretching. The entire group sat focused on their work, until they heard the voice of their Vice Captain.

That's when sweet chaos broke out.

The children climbed onto everything their little hands and feet could touch, including the cadets. Kafka soon turned into a tree for the children to climb on and so did Reno. Shinomiya found herself being trampled by four of the children, meanwhile Iharu and Izumo found a way to incorporate the kids into their workout by having them sit on their backs while performing push ups. Hoshina immediately bursted in a fit of laughter, amused by the current situation.

You yourself could not hide a smile. But amidst all the laughter and giggling your gaze subconsciously searched for Sosuke. Like before in the monitor room and the training ground, he stood in the back, watching the scene unfold– but this time something was different.

He watched his peers and the cadets with admiration in his eyes, with a tiny spark of amazement that shone like the stars in the firmament. The urge to join the fun grew with every second that passed, you could see it...yet he was still holding himself back for some reason.

“Sosuke was your name, am I right?” You tried to approach him one more time.

The boy, surprised that you knew his name, only managed to nod his head, but that was one of the best reactions you have seen from him all day.

“Wanna see something cool? I got a secret move none of the other cadets can do.” As you spoke those words, you kneeled down to the child's level, now being eye to eye with him.

“But..isn't such a special move meant to be seen by the other children rather than me..”

“No, I want you to see it.” Sosuke gasped lightly as you spoke those words, confused by the overwhelming attention you have been showing him up until now. While the boy was contemplating your intentions, you took off your shoes and placed them aside. Then, he finally nodded.

Almost immediately the boy found himself being yanked up into the air. You had wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer and somehow balanced him on your feet– with whom you threw him up into the air, of course not too high, and caught him with your hands. It all happened so fast that little Sosuke had almost no time to react but once he calmed down he was glowing with excitement.

“Again!”

And you threw him up again.

“Again!”

And another time.

“Again!”

You continued to throw the boy into the air just to catch him like a circus ball with your hands. Seeing his eyes glow and gleam with joy was more rewarding than any badge.

As you were both lost in the moment, you failed to notice Hoshina who was now moving closer to the both of you. His feet halted midway as he saw you open your mouth.

“Oh little Sosuke, you may not think that you are desired but you are no less dear to me.”

The boy's eyes froze upon hearing your words. His body softly slipped off your feet and landed onto the ground next to you.

“But..I'm not special..I'm not like the other kids in the group. I appreciate your kindness ma'am but I don't think that you should waste your time on me.."

Sosuke felt a cold wind hush over his skin as he recalled past memories of him trying to catch up with the other children. He suddenly felt lonely and left out, forgotten by the world…until a warm breeze suddenly engulfed him. Your arms wrapped themselves around his body, pulling the child into a long, warm hug.

“The kids can play with the other cadets and get their special attention." You poked his nose. “But you little Sosuke, shall have mine.”

Both Sosuke and Hoshina stood speechless by your words, their hearts feeling emotions they could not comprehend in that moment.

Soshiro suddenly grabbed his chest, the warmth in his heart being too overwhelming to ignore it. Could you hear his heartbeat? It was beating in irregular motions, loud and clear for all to hear. Hoshina knew that you were a good soul but never would he have thought that you were this amazing with children. But that was only to be expected, was it not?

They did not go unnoticed by Hoshina, your attempts of trying to win Sosuke over. He knew that you probably saw yourself in the small, insecure boy and therefore felt a dire need to consult him and let him know that he was already special enough, simply for being born into this world.

“Alright children, it's time to pack up now! One of the caretakers suddenly called.

“Oh my, time is already up? Alright Sosuke, let's-” Upon looking down at the boy, you were met with a view you did not expect to see today. Sosuke sat in your arms, thick tears running down his cheeks and staining his clothes.

“Don't wanna!” The boy yelled out, loud enough to alarm everyone. He was clinging onto you tightly, refusing to let go. As you looked up for help you finally took notice of Hoshina.

“Soshiro..are you seeing this?” You chuckled softly, the feeling of accomplishment washing over your skin.

“I don't wanna leave!” Sosuke continued to protest as Hoshina tried to get the boy off you.

It took your husband ten whole minutes to convince Sosuke to go with the caretakers, but that was only possible after making multiple promises.

“Yes, I will visit your kindergarten every month, I promise.”

“And..and you have to show me your special move again!” The boy cried out, both his hands wrapped around your leg.

“Yes, I will.” You spoke in a gentle voice, your fingers tapping against his shoulder to notify him that your time was up.

“Goodbye Mrs. Hoshina!” Sosuke yelled as his head disappeared behind the bus door.

“Goodbye Sosuke..”

It wasn't until the bus drove off that you felt an overwhelming surge of sadness pull on your heart. Luckily Hoshina stood right next to you to embrace you in a warm hug.

“There there.” He cooed, smiling at your fragile self. You stayed like that for a while, feeling comfort in Hoshina's presence.

The children of this world are faced with hardship and terror from an early age– especially those who come from renown clans like yours and Hoshinas. You remember it all too well, the pressure applied to you by your parents to achieve greatness and make it big in the world of Kaiju fighters. Knowing that you managed to get through to Sosuke and reassure him that he was special despite not being as strong as the others, it made your heart feel just a little lighter.

[moonlightspencie]

hey lovely! i saw you were asking for more requests and i love your writing so i am happy to help 🫡😂 can you write a one shot with any of the marauders (you can choose) where the reader works in a coffee shop and he comes in all the time and she thinks it’s because he loves coffee but he really just likes her? idk just thought it would be cute!! thank you friend!

hehehe, well remus won the number 2 spot on my poll, so here he is!

remus lupin x gn!reader

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

You smiled to yourself when you saw a familiar tall, lanky, scarred, absolutely endearing man walk into the café. He had a habit of dropping in every day. Sometimes twice a day. He'd come to be one of your absolute favorite regulars.

"Hi, Remus," you grinned brightly at him as he came to the counter.

"Hi," he replied shyly, his cheeks a little pink. "How are you today?"

"Can't complain. We've had a pretty slow day, but I'm not mad about it."

"I suppose it's a good thing I've come in, then. I've got to keep this place up and running," he joked lightly.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Want your regular?"

"Please," he nodded, smiling a bit at the fact she knew his order. "Also whatever you'd like."

"What?"

"I'd like to pay for whatever drink you'd like, too. You told me last time that you only get one free drink per shift," he said with a small shrug.

You blinked, looking at him in a bit of surprise. "You really don't have to do that."

"I'd like to. If you'll let me."

"Really?" you smile again.

"Really. It's the least I can do."

"I'm only doing my job," you let out a breathy chuckle, your own cheeks heating a little. Though you wouldn't admit it, you'd begun to harbor a small crush on the man. "No big deal."

"You go the extra mile. Nobody else has ever bothered to remember my order."

"Well... you're easy to remember."

His cheeks went even pinker as he sighed softly. "You are... unnecessarily kind."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all."

You smile again, writing on the two cups, then give him the total. He pays, leaving much too generous of a tip as always, and goes to sit down. You start on both of your drinks, debating in your head what you should do. Was it wrong to hit on a patron of the café? Maybe. But was he terribly cute and really sweet? Definitely.

You quickly scribbled your name and number on the cup, then called his name.

He walked up with a sweet smile. "Thanks."

"No problem. But... Maybe next time, I can buy you a drink?"

His brows rose. "This is your job. I don't want you to feel like you have to pay for me at your workplace."

"Then maybe I could buy you a drink someplace else?"

He blushed fiercely. "Oh."

"Unless I'm picking up the wrong signals, of course," you shift on your feet. "I've been thinking you just really liked coffee, but now I'm not so sure."

"You're much sweeter than the coffee," he admits with a soft voice.

You bite back a grin. "In that case... my number's on the cup, and I'm off at six. Maybe text me?"

He swallows, his eyes wide as he nods. "That... that sounds great."

"Good. I'll see you around, then?"

"Next time, maybe not just for the coffee," he smiles, nodding again once.

He walks out of the café a minute later, leaving you giddy on more than caffeine for the rest of your shift. The second you clocked out, you checked your phone, seeing a message from an unknown number:

You made my heart race a lot faster than the coffee today. Thanks for asking me out, I don't think I could have worked up the nerve myself haha

This is Remus, by the way.

You laughed softly, typing a quick response.

Now you'll have to tell me your second favorite place to get drinks. Can't wait :)

[memphisflash]

𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: It's been a year since you've seen Elvis - he hasn't called or reached out to you once, yet you still can't forget about him. Summer rolls around and you find yourself back in Vegas, picking right up where you left things with the singer that brings the heat to the desert every year, and you can't help but fall harder and deeper...

Word count: 6,7K

Warnings: basically a smut fest. reader losing her virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), kissing after oral, somewhat uncomfortable first time for reader (that shit hurts, hello???), they fuck multiple times- woops.

A/N: I tried to keep it short and sweet, but anyone who knows me that's a damn joke, because I always get carried away HA. I kinda hate the ending but oh well, I had to stop somewhere. Hope y'all like it!

← part one | masterlist →

A whole year had passed since that night you shared such an intimate moment with Elvis.

He had asked for your number before the two of you said goodbye but you didn’t expect to hear from him. You didn’t, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

You didn’t want to become just another foolish girl that was completely head over heels for the singer, but you couldn’t help yourself, no matter how hard you tried.

He’d been on your mind every single day for that whole year.

You listened to his records, read everything the magazines printed about him and would even watch some of his movies to hear his voice. Your boss at the local art gallery you worked at in Tucson, your hometown, even caught you daydreaming a couple of times and snapped you out of it which was highly embarrassing.

The whole thing was embarrassing, to be quite honest.

You were in love with a man who was fawned over by thousands of girls across the globe and he most likely didn’t even remember you. After all, you hadn’t been the first girl he brought up to his suite in Vegas.

You hid those feelings well for your parents though, who thought you were just infatuated by the superstar and dealt with the amount of times you played his music through the house. Your father secretly liked it – you’d heard him sing along plenty of times when he thought no one could hear him.

But your best friend Emma knew better. She was the only one who you had told what happened between you and Elvis and like the supportive, and sometimes tad overly excited, best friend she was, she made it her own personal mission to save up for another trip to Vegas the coming summer.

You picked up a few extra shifts at your job and even babysat the children in the neighborhood and before you realised it, summer was there and you and Emma made the six hour drive to sin city.

Las Vegas was as exciting as ever. With Elvis’ residency being promoted like a summer festival, Elvis fans were everywhere – walking the strip to spot him or any of his entourage members, taking up hotel rooms in the numerous accomodations in town and shopping, dining out or seeing afternoon shows by other artists to kill time.

Vegas was thriving off of the tourists and if you could, you would want to stay here for the rest of your life. Despite your innocent nature, the sinful aspect of it all drew you in.

“What if he does recognize you…” Emma retorts to your worries as you lay side by side on a tanning bed by the pool of the International hotel. You two had booked so many months in advance that you were assured a nice room in the crowded hotel. “and asks you up to the room again. This is Vegas, baby, anything can happen!”

Emma grins widely as she looks at you over the rim of her sunglasses, wiggles her eyebrows and then laughs as she pushes them back up the bridge of her nose, reaching for her margarita. You laugh with her and sigh deeply as you watch some people in the pool splash around, chattering and hollering adding a nice atmosphere to the pool area. “Oh please, Em, I bet he won’t even recognize me. He’s been to other places for the past year and God knows what kind of girls he met.”

“You’re hotter,” Emma says matter-of-factly as she puts her drink down and lays back on the sunbed, soaking up the rays of the harsh Vegas sun.

“You haven’t even seen the other girls,” you snort softly, looking at her even though her eyes were closed behind her glasses.

“I don’t need to. I’m your best friend and I’m obligated to tell you, you’re hotter. And even if I wasn’t, I would still tell you the same thing.”

You couldn’t contain the smile on your face and let it spread across your features, playfully slapping Emma’s arm. She always knew just what to say.

Ofcourse you didn’t think you were ugly, but you would always compare yourself to other girls that seemed just a little more prettier. A little skinnier, their skin a little more flawless, their clothes a little more expensive.

Emma often talked you out of it though, because she was right when she’d tell you that wasn’t the way to live your life.

You did have to admit that your confidence had grown in the past year, even if it was just a smidge. Your boss gave you more responsibilities at work which had you come into contact with customers face to face more often, which included handsome business men and rough around the edges cowboys who came in to buy an art work.

They’d flirt with you more often than not and their blatant but sweet compliments even helped you with your blushing. In a way, you’d grown used to the men in Tucson, so hopefully you’d be the same around that one man from Memphis.

If you’d even meet him again.

“Okay, let’s say he knows who I am and he invites me up to his suite again,” you said, sounding a little more light hearted. “I think I wanna have sex with him.”

“You already did, Miss Foreplay.”

“That wasn’t.. sex!” you whisper loud enough for Emma to hear above her own laughter, gasping as you chuckled. You sat up and swung your legs over the edge of the sunbed, leaning in closer to your friend so nobody else was able to hear you. “I’m serious, Em. I want to.. I want him to.. you know.”

Emma pushed her sunglasses into her hair, turning her head to look at you. She laughed and rolled her eyes playfully. “You can say it, Y/N, it ain’t some kinda disease. You want him to pop your cherry,”

The way the word ‘cherry’ rolled off her tongue so sensually it had your cheeks heating up a little, but you quickly forced the heat back down, slapping your friend’s arm once more.

This time with a little more force, which made her pout and rub her arm.

“Don’t say it like that!”

“Fine. You want him to fuck you then.”

“Emma!”

The girl next to you laughed loudly and quickly avoided you before you could assault her poor arm again. You shook your head but laughed along with her – she was impossible at times, but you loved her like a sister.

You and Emma had tickets to several shows Elvis did at the hotel. You were staying for two whole weeks and would attend a few shows during the week, and every show during the weekend.

While getting ready for the dinner show that started at 7, the phone in your hotel room rang. The sound startled you a little, hoping it wasn’t the front desk with a noise complaint because you and Emma had been playing music while getting ready – and Emma was singing along in the shower, sounding like a dying cat.

You put your curling iron down after switching it off and ran into the room from the bathroom, picking up the phone. It was the desk clerk, telling you you had an incoming call from an individual named Jon Burrows.

You didn’t know anyone by that name, but thinking it could’ve been work related, you accepted the call.

But as soon as you heard that deep voice and that Southern drawl, you realised this wasn’t Jon Burrows.

“Hi Cherry,”

Your heartbeat started picking up, resembling something of a group of wild horses gallopping.

“Elvis?” You questioned, sounding breathless and in somewhat of disbelief.

He didn’t confirm, but you knew it was him. Especially when you heard his deep, rich sounding laugh which felt like a comfortable blanket being wrapped around you.

“Now why didn’t ya tell me you’re in Vegas, honey? I called your house and your Daddy told me you were already here, comin’ to see me..”

You looked at Emma as she wandered out of the bathroom, waving your hand like a maniac to the radio that was playing. She frowned but took the hint and switched it off, walking closer to you to silently ask who you were talking to.

“Well, I’m sorry, Elvis,” Emma immediately widened her eyes and sat down next to you, pressing her ear close to the phone. “I didn’t.. I didn’t know how to reach you..”

You mentally cursed yourself for such a lame answer, but it was the truth. You didn’t have his number, and in that whole year, he never called you.

At least, not to your knowledge.

“You comin’ to see the show? How long are ya staying?”

“Me and my friend will be here for two weeks, and yes, ofcourse we’re coming to the show. We wouldn’t want to miss it.” You made sure your voice sounded extra sweet and Emma nearly toppled over when Elvis said, “That’s my girl.”

“Don’t make any plans for after the late show tonight, honey. I want you and your friend to come to a little party, okay?”

Emma looks at you and immediately nodded yes. You agreed and after talking to Elvis for a few more minutes, he hung up to get ready for the show. You put the phone down and looked at Emma, who was staring at you with wide eyes before you two squealed like two teenagers.

“Oooh, that man wants you, believe me,” Emma smirks as she gets up and turns the radio on again, dancing happily through the room while getting ready.

As always, Elvis was amazing on stage – his moves making you feel things and his vocals were superb. He recognized you in the crowd and during the moment where he wandered through the crowd and kissed girls, he made sure to press an open mouthed kiss onto your mouth, his tongue playfully flicking against your lips.

You were already on cloud nine, fantasizing about what would happen during the rest of the night when you’d have him alone. You were praying that that party wouldn’t last very long.

It turned out the party was held in the dressing room and you nearly fainted at the sight of Cary Grant greeting Elvis when you stood next to him. They talked for a short while and you couldn’t even keep up with the conversation, so many things around you were happening.

Emma was standing across the room, talking to Charlie Hodge and by the way she was squeezing his arm and throwing her head back as she laughed, you could see they were hitting it off.

Good for her – Emma had horrible taste in men, often falling for the bad boys, but Charlie Hodge seemed like a nice man. And a funny one, because you could hear your best friend’s flirtatious laughter all across the dressing room.

Elvis and you didn’t talk much one on one, as there was always someone who came up to strike a conversation with him. But he kept his arm around your waist, because he liked knowing that you were still there, close to him.

To him, it wasn’t strange at all. He acted like you’d always been there, like you belonged to him and only him.

It sent your mind spinning, or maybe that was because of the two Cosmo’s you’d already had.

The party was nice – everyone was having fun, talking to each other, enjoying each other’s company and sipping drinks. But it was like Elvis could read your mind when he looked at you and leaned in closer.

“Let’s get outta here. I want to be alone with my sweet little cherry,”

The way he whispered in your ear nearly had your knees buckling, but instead you flashed him a smile and quickly nodded. Elvis slipped his hand into yours and as he signed to Red and Sonny he wanted to leave, the four of you moving out of the room. You exchanged one more look with Emma, who grinned widely at you and blew you a kiss, mouthing a “have fun!” to you before she disappeared out of your sight.

After walking through a few long hallways and a short ride on the service elevator, you arrived at the top floor of the International and you disappeared into the suite with Elvis.

“You know, I really missed ya, honey,” Elvis smiled at you as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close against his chest, making you stand on your tiptoes a little due to the height difference.

Again, you wanted to ask him why he hadn’t called if he missed you so much but you knew better than to ruin the moment.

You hugged him back, telling him you missed him too and in this moment, you felt like he truly cared about you.

Like you weren’t just a fan, or just another girl that would tend to his needs for the evening.

“Why don’t you go take a shower an’ we can relax, hmm?”

It could sound so innocent, but with what you had planned for tonight, you knew it was the beginning of something very sinful.

Elvis led you to the bathroom and handed you one of his silk pyjama button ups, this time in a shade of crimson red. Once again, he didn’t give you the bottom half of the set but you didn’t mind it, nor protest against it. As he left you alone to take a shower in the other bathroom in the suite, you locked the door behind you and turned on the shower. You washed your body, making sure to leave your hair and make-up untouched.

Thank God for Emma who hounded your ass for making sure you were trimmed nicely – your bikini line, legs and pits waxed, only a little bit of pubic hair left on your vulva.

You turned the shower off after a little bit and dried yourself off, making sure to spray some perfume in your neck that you carried in your purse and sneaked into the bathroom. You put on the button up, leaving your panties on top of your folded clothes on the sink. You quickly brushed your teeth with the spare toothbrush in the bathroom and took a deep breath before you walked back into the bedroom, smiling shyly at Elvis who was already sitting in his bed against the headboard.

His hair looked like he’d just dry-blowed it, soft and fluffy. He was wearing his own set of pyjamas in black and the tan skin that was visible due to half of his top being left unbottoned made arousal slowly creep its way to the surface.

Talking turned to cuddling, cuddling turned to kissing, and kissing turned to wandering hands creeping up your top.

You were nervous, God how nervous you were, but this time you didn’t stop him when he cupped your breasts.

A soft gasp left you when he caressed his thumbs across your perked nipples. He looked at your face to see if he was taking things too far, but as he saw the flush on your cheeks and the way you were looking at him with pleading eyes, he figured he could go on.

As long as you did not tell him to stop, he wasn’t going to.

Slowly he got on top of you, wiggling himself in between your legs which you eagerly opened and wrapped around his waist this time. He moved his hands out from underneath your top, fingertips working quick as he flicked the buttons open one by one.

“Cherry,” he spoke softly, his eyes finding yours. “Have you been touched in the past year?”

The question rolled off his tongue so casually as if you were just making conversation, but it caused goosebumps to tingle along your skin. You looked at him and shook your head slowly, unable to control the heat that was crawling up your neck, reddening your skin.

“N-No..” you whispered, feeling exposed as the fabric of your top fell open, your breasts on full display for him. “Only by myself,”

You didn’t know where you’d got the courage from to say such a thing, but it slipped out before you could stop it. Elvis smirked, his hands back to cupping your breasts, squeezing them a little firmer.

“Is that right?” he hummed lowly, keeping his eyes on your face as he leaned in closer to your chest, his soft lips connecting with the supple flesh of your right breast. “Did ya think ‘bout me when touchin’ yourself?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, his tongue poked out to swirl it around your nipple. A gasp and then a moan slipped past your lips and you gripped onto his shoulders, arching your back a little.

“Yes!” you moaned out, perhaps a little more desperate than you intended to. “Y-Yes.. Always.. thinking about.. you..”

Your words came out breathless as he sucked onto your nipple softly and he grinded against you a little. You could feel the outline of his cock pressing against your folds and you were pretty sure you were staining his silk bottoms with your arousal.

Neither he or you cared and you grinded back against him, trying to rub your clit against his length.

Elvis could see the difference between last year and now. With those flushed cheeks, he knew you were still the same girl but there was a flair of eagerness lingering about you now.

You wanted him and he sure as hell was going to enjoy taking you, stripping away your innocence completely.

Just as you were about to reach out to unbutton his shirt completely, he was already moving lower onto the bed. His lips dragged over the curve of your breasts and along your stomach, his hands sliding up the back of your thighs to spread your legs and give him the view he’s been so eager to see all night.

Your perfect exposed pussy… right there in front of his nose. So beautiful, so pink, so untouched.

He looked up at you through his dark lashes as he kissed your inner thighs, grinning against your skin when he felt your legs trembling with anticipation. He could practically smell your arousal and it had him groaning softly as he rubbed himself against the mattress slowly.

You wanted nothing more than to feel his mouth on the most intimate part of his body but he decided to take things slow. He knew you were eager but he wanted you to experience it all, and he wanted to be the one who could make you feel this good.

His fingertips caressed through your folds, spreading your slick all over your lips before he pressed his thumb against your clit, adding a little pressure. You were looking down at him the whole time, not wanting to miss a second of this sight, and he loved hearing you moan softly the way you did.

By the end of the evening, he intended to have you screaming for him.

“My Cherry’s got such a pretty pussy,” he whispered as he grinned at you before looking down at your wetness glistening against your skin. He ran his middlefinger down your folds, slowly pushing it inside of your entrance. “All for me to play with,”

You gasped and gripped onto the sheets, your muscles immediately tensing up around his digit. He let out a soft laugh as he pulled his finger back before sinking it into you completely again. “Relax, baby. It’s jus’ a finger,”

Just a finger that already had you moaning louder, like a damn cat in heat. You moved your hands to your face to cover up your mouth and muffle your moans, and Elvis let you – for now. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, moving his finger in and out of you a little faster.

Then he added another finger and you were clenching around him so viciously, he was thinking you were going to push his fingers out of you at one point by just using your muscles.

The thought of feeling that feeling around his cock had him grinding against the bed a little more.

But Elvis wasn’t a quitter and he pushed the two digits deeper inside of you, fingertips curling inside of you and caressing that special spot. Your hands couldn’t contain your moans anymore and they once more found the sheets as you arched your back, spreading your legs wider.

He repeated the action a few more times, fingering you at a steady pace until he couldn’t take the sight of his fingers coming out so wet anymore. It was too tempting.

“Let’s see how sweet you taste, Cherry,” he smirked as he pulled his fingers out and grabbed the back of your thighs, pushing his fingertips into your skin a little to keep you still.

Without warning, he leaned in closer and dragged his tongue from your entrance to your clit. You gasped as your hips stuttered and he held onto you firmer, looking up at you as his tongue swirled slowly around your clit, before he gently sucked it in between his lips.

The sight was downright sinful.

But even though you couldn’t get enough of it, you couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling into the back of your head as his tongue slipped through your folds again.

He put your legs over his shoulders, his hands moving up your sides until they found your breasts again. He fondled them lightly, pinching your nipples in between his fingertips softly as his tongue worked wonders on your eager pussy.

“Mmm, Elvis!” you moaned out freely now, unable to contain yourself. The sounds leaving you, the way you were moaning out his name, made you feel so… slutty.

And yet, you were loving every second of it.

He groaned against your skin, his hands slipping down to your hips as his eyes shot open and stared up at you. He wanted to see your reactions to his actions and make a mental reminder of it – the way your teeth sunk into your lower lip, the way your eyebrows knitted together. And the added roll of your eyes as he sucked on your clit was very much appreciated.

You didn’t know what an orgasm felt like. Sure, you had touched yourself but when that pressure would start building in the pit of your stomach, you stopped.

Because truth be told, you were nervous about it – scared even. And now that Elvis was the one who was causing the muscles in your tummy to tense up like that, you felt as if you were about to crawl out of your own skin.

Tangling your fingers in his now messy hair, you tried to get him to stop, tried to get away from him, but the raven haired devil wouldn’t let you.

He’s been between enough girls’ legs to know that you were close to falling apart. Could feel it by the way your thighs were trembling on his shoulders, hear it in the way your moans turned a little more high pitched, a slight hint of panic hidden on the back of your tongue.

You could practically feel him smirking against your clit as he slipped in a finger, pumping it in and out of you in a steady pace. There was a slight sting, though it was barely noticeable due to the orgasm that had you on the verge of tears.

You clamped your hand over your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut, your other hand still in his hair as he just wouldn’t stop while you were falling over the edge. If it wasn’t for Elvis holding onto your hips to keep you down, you were sure your hips would’ve lifted off of the bed with the way they were bucking upwards and you were writhing in the sheets.

You could barely recognize your own voice as you moaned out, Elvis’ name falling off your tongue like a mantra.

Elvis slowly loosened his grip on your hips and let you spread your legs, raising his head to look at you with a smug grin spread across his face. You pushed some of his hair out of his face and then let out a breathless laugh, running your hands through your own hair.

Elvis loved the way you were looking at him with those half-lidded eyes that held stars in them, cheeks flushed the way he likes.

“Jus’ like I thought, Cherry,” his whisper is low, his voice a little raspy as he kisses your lower abdomen. “Jus’ downright teeth rottin’ sweet,”

Your cheeks heated up even more as he crawled his way back up, kissing you, letting you taste yourself. It made you moan softly in his mouth, allowing him to take the pyjama shirt you were still wearing completely off.

In a matter of seconds, Elvis’ clothing pieces flung across the room as well, thanks to your greedy hands.

Foreheads pressed together, moans exchanged into each others’ mouths, Elvis thrusted his hips forward slowly as your small hand wrapped around his hard cock. You figured if you would do something wrong, you would know by his reaction, but now he seemed to enjoy it with the way his tongue was dipping into your mouth now and then, eyes closed as he grunted and his jaw clenched.

Elvis had planned to take his time tonight, but he couldn’t take one more second of foreplay. He wanted, needed, to be buried inside of you.

“Can I put it in now, honey?” He whispered as his eyes flutter open, looking at you with a small smirk as he remembered how a year ago you were nearly pleading for him not to put it in.

But tonight he could see how much you wanted it, there was no way in hell you’d put a stop to it now.

At least, he prayed you wouldn’t.

A sense of relief washed over him when you bit your lip and nodded, yet he still wanted to hear you say it. “Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes,” you inhaled a shaky breath, squeezing his cock softly in your hand as you loosely wrapped your legs around his waist. “I want you to be my first.”

You felt vulnerable speaking those words and Elvis smiled, fingertips caressing some hair out of your face and gently tugging it behind your ear. He pressed a kiss onto your lips and nodded. “I’ll be real gentle, okay?”

Slowly letting go of his length and having your hand replaced by his own, you put your hands on his upper arms. He didn’t rush it – didn’t push it inside of you at once, instead caressing the tip of his cock through your folds and rubbing it onto your clit for a little bit.

But it was going to have to happen eventually and even though you’d anticipated it, the feeling of his tip finding home at your entrance still made your muscles tense up and your nails digging into his skin a little.

“Relax,” he whispered, looking into your eyes before kissing the corner of your mouth. “Jus’ try an’ relax, or it won’t feel good, cherry,”

Truth was, it wasn’t going to feel good either way. Emma had already warned you about this, even going as far as to say she had bled when she lost her virginity.

God, how embarrassing would that be… although you doubted Elvis would mind it, because he seemed like an understanding man, but you still didn’t want it to happen.

You inhaled a deep breath and nodded, trying as hard as you could to relax, but it was barely working when he pushed himself inside of you at a snail’s pace. Inch by inch his cock disappeared inside of you, stretching you the way his fingers, or your own, never could.

He let out a deep groan that came straight from his gut as he finally bottomed out, having missed someone so incredibly tight engulfing him.

“E-Elvis… It h-hurts..” you looked at him with wide eyes, nails pressed into his arms so firm you were sure small crescent moons were created in his flesh but he didn’t stop you.

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, leaning his elbows on the bed on either side of your head, slipping one arm underneath your head to keep you close to him. “But it’ll feel better in a little while, ‘lright? Jus’ relax..”

You trusted him and you really hoped he was right, because now you were so full you could barely speak. He could see the tears twinkling in your eyes and as he lovingly kissed your cheeks, his fingertips caressing your shoulder, you melted into his arms a little more.

He held still inside of you for quite a while, letting you get used to the feeling of being filled with something the size of his cock – which, for the record, was definitely not small.

Perhaps someone who’d been so blessed wasn’t the right person to lose your virginity to on a physical level, but then again… go big or go home.

Emma would be proud of you.

And all craziness aside, you were happy that you were losing your virginity to Elvis Presley. Not because he was famous, but because he was so gentle and sweet, taking his time with you and being patient. It was good to have someone older, someone with experience who knew how a woman’s body worked instead of taking what he wanted and calling it a day.

This was truly a special and intimate moment and you were losing yourself into it more and more.

As you felt you were relaxed enough, you whispered to Elvis that you were ready and boy, were you wrong. The second he slowly and softly started thrusting into you, those tears that had blurred your vision were starting to roll down your cheeks. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing him closer into your embrace which made him hide his face in your neck – you didn’t want him to see your tears, nor did you want him to stop.

A million of girls have been through this for centuries.

If they could do it, so could you.

“Don’t cry, honey,” he whispered in your ear, kissing your neck. Damnit, why does he seem to know everything? “Jus’ relax… Give all of yourself to me..”

He kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear and they helped you relax and your muscles to lose that tension – must be witchcraft, you were positive of it.

Step by step, slowly but surely, Elvis picked up the pace as he heard your gasps and soft cries turn into soft moans. The sting was still very much present, but the burning sensation had subsided and you were sure that had everything to do with the grunts and deep moans leaving Elvis, and the sight of him on top of you. He had pulled his face out of your neck again, his eyes boring into yours and while you usually hated eye contact this intensely and for so long, now you couldn’t find it in you to look away.

You were lost in those oceanic blue orbs and when he smiled that sweet smile at you, you couldn’t deny the fact that you were sickly in love with Elvis Presley.

It wasn’t just idol infatuation.

You were totally, completely, irrevocably in love.

Sex was a tricky thing to human kind. Some people used it as a meaningless way to get what they want or to meet their needs, and other people view it as something sacred, something meant to be shared with only that person who you love more than anything in the world.

You had no idea it could be this good, never believing Emma when she said that once you’d done it, you would only want more and more. You’d turn greedy, goddamn near feral because it was such a raw and primal instinct… perhaps that was why it was considered a sin.

You’d never think you would turn into one of those girls that would crave sex and felt like they’d just die if they didn’t get it. But Elvis had that kind of effect on you.

The sun had long risen over Las Vegas but the suite was still dark due to Elvis’ dark curtains being drawn. It must’ve been around 6 or 7 in the morning, but neither of you had slept a wink.

When he’d popped your cherry a few hours earlier, it had hurt. The second time you did it, there was still a slight uncomfortable sting. But by the third time, you were a moaning mess as he turned you around and pressed your face in the pillow, the sound of his balls hitting your clit with every thrust filling the room.

If it wasn’t for the sex daze you were in, you’d be embarrassed by the way you were already crawling onto his lap again after the both of you had taken a shower. Your limbs felt weak and Elvis felt the same, but you couldn’t help yourself and Elvis couldn’t deny you.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned as you straddled him and sunk down onto his length, your hands on his chest, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I created a monster.”

You laughed softly at his words as your cheeks flushed crimson, although that could just as well be because you were so worked up. Elvis grabbed onto your hips and pulled you down a little more, gasping as you fept his tip grazing your g-spot.

“O-Oh… Elvis..” you moaned, biting your lower lip harshly. “S-So deep.. like this..”

He smirked, moving his hands to your ass to squeeze your cheeks in his palms before landing a soft slap on the left one. “That’s right, baby. Can’t get enough of bein’ filled, can ya?”

You giggled softly and started thrusting, slow at first but quickly working your way up to a faster and more steady pace. Didn’t take long for you two to become a bunch of moaning messes once more, going at it like damn rabbits.

It had felt like Elvis had taken a piece of your soul from the moment he’d entered you for the first time and you willingly gave it up for him to keep. You had blossomed into a new person tonight – broken out of your cocoon, going from girl to woman.

Elvis bent his knees a little, heels pressed into the mattress as he grabbed onto your hips and kept you from moving. Instead, he took over and thrusted up into you in such a pace that you had to grip onto his arms to keep steady.

“Oh, fuck!”

He was surprised by the profanity coming from you, but definitely not disappointed. He liked his ladies soft spoken in public, but inside these four walls it was a whole different story. Those rules didn’t apply and especially not to you, because he enjoyed this side of you.

Added more fuel to his fire.

“Shit, I fuckin’ love that pussy,” he growled as he clenched his jaw, his fingers most likely leaving marks on your skin. You threw your head back and Elvis took the opportunity to watch the softness of your skin, he could’ve sworn he could see your heartbeat pulsing underneath it, and the way your breasts bounced along with his thrusts.

He wasn’t going to last long and neither were you with the way he was pounding into you, hitting the right spot every time his hips came up. You were moaning so loud that you wouldn’t be surprised if the downstair neighbors could hear the whole thing.

Though before the two of you could reach climax, he wrapped one arm around your waist and switched positions so fast you barely noticed it until you were laying on your back and he was pounding into you like a mad man. The beads of sweat that formed on his forehead, the animalistic growl that left him when he pulled out of you after a few more thrusts to release strings of cum onto your breasts and stomach was a sight to behold. This man was extraordinary.

You’d fallen over the edge right before he’d pulled out and you were clenching pathetically around nothing, wrapping your arms around him to keep him somewhat close, careful not to mess up the masterpiece he’d created on your skin. His lips found yours, kissing you for a little bit until he hid his face in your neck.

“I think I’ll keep you… My personal little Cherry,” he grinned against your skin and you scoffed softly.

“What am I? A puppy?”

He pulled his head back to look at you and raise an eyebrow, playfully nudging your chin. “Oh, she’s been fucked a couple of times and immediately has an attitude, huh?”

You laughed softly at his words, cupping his face to playfully squeeze his cheeks together. He leans into your touch and softly bites down onto your thumb before kissing it.

“You ain’t a puppy,” he said as he smirked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You’re jus’ a little baby.”

“I’m not a baby!” You exclaimed, pretending to be offended as you gasp.

He nodded his head and leaned his face closer to you, pecking your lips while he talked against your mouth. “Uh-huh, you are. A baby with pretty little feet and little red cherry cheeks,”

Instantly, you blushed and pouted against his lips, which made him laugh softly. “As long as I’m your baby, I’ll take it.”

You didn’t mean to say those words. They felt too bold for you to be saying and you half expected him to turn serious and tell you not to get things in your head, but instead he looked into your eyes and smiled.

“Ofcourse,” he said, patting your hair. “You’re my little cherry and I don’t like sharin’..” his fingertip caressed across the black star sapphire diamond engraved into the ring you were still wearing around your neck.

For the whole past year, you had not taken it off once.

“We should clean up and sleep,” you whispered, ignoring how his words had sent your heart aflame.

“I wanna get ya ‘nother present,”

He was already getting up and pulling you off the bed, letting you wander off into the bathroom to clean his cum off of you. This time, you left the door unlocked and seconds later, Elvis came in with his jewelry box.

“Elvis, no.. Put that away. Let’s sleep..”

“Honey,” he said sternly, although you could hear he was playful at the same time. Grabbing your wrist, he pulled you closer to him and grabbed a ring, slipping it into your finger, looking at it and when decided he didn’t like it, he took it off of you and rumbled through the box to find another piece. “We can sleep when we’re dead.”

You let out a laugh and shook your head at his antics. While he was putting jewelry on you, from rings to bracelets, your eyes were on him.

This magical, weird, funny, sweet man that had the world at the tip of his fingers and probably one of the richest people in the country, and yet he had no problem giving away his gold as if they were pieces of candy.

You didn’t care about the jewelry, though. Or about the money, or about any of the luxury. All you cared about was the man next to you, a child like smile of excitement rooted on his face.

You didn’t want to think about it all ending, so you forced yourself not to. Because all that mattered was right here and now, and this night (and morning) of two people’s souls connecting the way they’d done.

They say you never forget your first time and you wholeheartedly believed that statement. How in the world could you ever forget Elvis Presley?

Taglist: @peaceloveelvis @notstefaniepresley @jhoneybees