#anyway off to the grocery store... where i will continue to think about this guy XD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pinkrelish · 2 years ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Surely, when two friends set up their two friends on a blind date in the very small town of Hawkins, they make sure those two people don't know each other beforehand, right? And, more importantly, aren't coworkers, right?✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, angst towards the end, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 3/20 [wc: 6.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 3: The Accidental First Date

“Is this too much?” you asked, yanking down the visor and checking yourself in the small mirror.

Sitting in the back parking lot of the movie theater, you went through your purse for the finishing touches on your look. Doing your last paranoia check for anything in your teeth, turning your head this way and that to zhuzh your hair, and most importantly, preening your oxymoron of a sweater to show a decent amount of cleavage without flashing the cups of your push-up bra.

Truly a walking contradiction of a top. Cable knit and warm, but with a plunging neckline, to where the top button started at your sternum.

“No, you look hot,” Robin assured with her goofy smile. “New York modest is Hawkins slutty. He’s gonna love you.”

You shrank into your girlish giggle. “Good, I want my dating debut in this little town to be a statement. Set the stage for future escapades.. Until I run out of men, I guess. Seriously, how many bachelors live here and aren’t total hicks? Four?” Robin laughed.

“Could be worse. You could be a lesbian.”

“True,” you concurred. “Good thing you have Vickie. Sucks she couldn’t come tonight.” Robin made a sad huff of agreement, working a mascara wand through her lashes. “Hey, I know I said ‘yes’ without asking, but is this guy you set me up with even my type? Not that I care, obviously; a good story is a good story, but I’m just trying to set my expectations here.”

She furrowed her eyebrows dramatically, and paused unscrewing her lip gloss to rock her entire body into a positive affirmation–almost bumping her forehead on the steering wheel from the force of her nodding. “Oh, absolutely,” she said emphatically. “Looks scary on the outside, but is a total sweetheart on the inside. Overconfident, and obnoxious, but in that charming, swoony way.”

“Perfect!” You clasped your hands together.

Stepping out of the car, she waited for you so you could walk with your arms linked together, and she continued, “I haven’t seen him in years, but Steve was telling me over the phone that he’s been going through a tough time, and hasn’t been on a date in a while.”

“Aw, poor guy.”

There was a beat of silence where both of your faces twisted into knowing smiles.

“I know what that look means..” Robin led, canting her head to you.

Innocent, you lifted your shoulder in a coy shrug, bringing a collection of her soft hair up to your chin. “No idea what you’re talking about. I was just thinking, if he hasn’t been on a date in a while.. Why not make it memorable for him?”

You laughed together, rounding the sidewalk to the front entrance of the theater where the glamorous marquee shined gentle daylight upon the darkened street. Romantic and intimate, with a crowd of people standing in vague suggestions of lines; some broken off, gossiping, smoking.

“There they are,” Robin whispered, letting go of your upper arm to wave at Nancy–who you had met at the grocery store last week. She saw you approaching, and tapped her hand on the chest of the man beside her.

Still a considerable distance away, you peered at him, and placed his luscious hair in your memory. “Oh, that’s the guy who came to the shop today.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, he was talking to the annoying mechanic I’m always telling you about.”

“The one you have a crush on?”

“Shush,” you bristled at the mention of your not-so-secret. “I do not have a crush on Eddie. Anyway! Did I tell you what he did this morning? He fuckin’ stood outside the window next to my desk, just out of my view for like, full on minutes, waiting for me to look at him. Like Michael Myers or some shit. Scared me half to death.”

Robin, still caught on one detail you had somehow failed to mention in the month you worked at the auto body shop, quietly asked, “..Eddie?”

“Yeah, my coworker,” you answered, not looking at her when she fell a step behind, since you were too focused on greeting Nancy, and introducing yourself to Steve to notice her sudden jog up behind you. Too fixated on complimenting Nancy’s skirt to witness the way Steve aimed his confused frown just past your shoulder. Missed his dismissive hand gestures, and Robin’s panic as she tried to wordlessly communicate something dire to him.

You were too busy listening to the cars cruise by on the street, and chatting casually, and savoring the warmth of a new friendship to scrutinize the sound of quick footsteps from the other direction, or the jangle of metal chains attached to their presence, or Robin’s damning groan.

“Sorry, I’m–” a familiar voice said. A bit nasally and on the higher side. Mirthful, awake with youth, and excited to make a good first impression.

You turned to them. Your date.

“..Late,” they trailed off.

Deer in headlights. Big, brown doe-eyes wide with surprise, framed by beautiful black lashes.

He stared at you.

His stomach sank.

You stared at him.

Your heart raced.

Eddie had stopped mid-step with his hand raised in greeting. The chains on his leather jacket tinkered until they stilled. Kind smile frozen from a better time. Chest filled with a held breath. Presenting himself with his best foot forward, and now his ears were tinted with the embarrassment of trying too hard to impress.

Oh, God.

You blinked away, and were intentional to accept the situation for what it was without showing your surprise, opting for a simple, timid, awkward, shaky, exhaled, “Hey, Eddie.”

He wasn’t so poised.

Shutting his eyes, he allowed the realization to wash over him, scrunching his face in a pained expression as the puzzle pieces slotted into place. He hung his head, and released his breath through his nose. “Your roommate is Robin,” he stated, pointing at her to punctuate his sentence. “And you call her Bobbie.”

“Yeah..” It was an apology as much as it was a confirmation.

“You still call me Bobbie?” Robin asked, tugging on your sleeve, forgetting the tense air surrounding the group for the moment. “I haven’t used that stage name in years.”

“Guess it stuck with me..”

Thankfully, someone else added to the conversation. Unfortunately, that person was Steve addressing the elephant outside the ticket booth.

“So, I take it you two know each other,” he deduced, looking from Eddie’s dejected gaze at the ground, to you wringing your purse strap over your chest.

Eddie enlightened him in a solemn tone, sparing a single glance at his friend, “She’s the receptionist at work.”

“Ah.” He turned his attention to Robin. “You set up two people who work together.”

She threw her hands up and blamed him, “Uh! No way, dunce, don’t put this on me. This whole thing was your idea, and at no point in the conversation did you tell me Eddie was a mechanic! If you had told me he was a mechanic I probably could’ve put two-and-two together myself, and avoided setting up people who see each other every day.”

Increasingly red-faced, Steve very pointedly avoided Eddie’s suspicious squint after being outed as the one who set up the date, not Nancy. “You’re the one who lives with her, how could you not–?”

“Okay!” You clapped once to end their bickering. “Then it’s not a date.”

Nancy, bless her, picked up her improv skills fast. “Yeah! Not a date. Just a casual outing between friends. Steve, get the tickets ready so we can get popcorn before the line gets too long.” There was a ripple of unanimous murmurs, followed by shuffling to the entrance.

“Silver lining,” Nancy muttered out the side of her mouth to Steve, “It’s a movie date, so it’s not like they have to talk to, or look at each other.”

Steve tempered his laugh to a hiss and held the door for Robin, who in turn kept the it ajar behind her for you, but as you went to catch it, it was opened for you.

Clack- clack- clack. You’d heard the sound every morning; his distinct rings on the metal frame of the glass door beside your desk, followed by his soft grunt when pulling it open. But whereas his whispered ‘morning’ normally echoed in the tiled lobby, it was now on the back of your neck, fanning your skin, and it wasn’t a sweet greeting, but a reserved, solemn, regretful, sad, “Sorry for.. yeah.” That’s how he started your date that wasn’t a date. With an apology. And still, as the crisp autumn air was replaced by the humid waft of buttery popcorn, your brain was stuck at the garage, filling in the drag of his heavy work boots on the way to the breakroom for coffee, and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke trailing his stride.

Except, as you were jolted back to reality, you came to know he didn’t present himself so generically outside the context of motor oil. Due to the traffic clogging around the ticket ripper, Eddie ran into you and you discovered the nuances of what he smelled like when not at work, with the added intimacy of his chest pressed to your back.

Worn leather enveloped by notes of vanilla musk cologne. Spicy deodorant carried by the sweet earthy tang of tobacco. Dove White on his heated skin, and Dawn on his hands.

A symphony you could immerse yourself in learning for hours if it wasn’t for the crime of your group moving forward.

“Did you want anything?” Eddie asked you, pointing at the concessions.

“Oh, no, I’m good.” You made a clawing gesture at your mouth. “Eating popcorn before the movie even starts because I have no self control and then being forced to sit there with kernels in my teeth drives me nuts.”

Not finding you as endearing as you intended, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and motioned for both of you to stand off to the side, out of the way while you waited for the others to get their snacks. And he just stood there. Not saying anything. You were turned to him as if to carry a conversation, but his gaze was set ahead; not on anything in particular, just away from you.

Rarely had his face been this slack, this devoid of emotion. Even when doing menial work like filling out invoices for parts you would need to order, there was activity. Liveliness in the tic of his eyes reading lines on the paper. Movement of his tongue sliding across his top lip. A subtle crease between his brows. Something. Anything.

You spoke above the giggly teenagers sneaking into the film next door, “For a stick in the mud, you look nice.” He really did, in his well-loved jacket draping his frame after years of being broken in to perfection. Tight black jeans. Sensible boots. More accessories than just his rings.

Try as he might to cut you an unamused look, his freshly washed hair bounced in immaculate waves around his face, catching the low mood lighting like a messy halo.

“Thanks,” he said, not meaning it.

“I can see why you don’t get many dates if you always look this miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Glum, then? Woebegone? Hapless? Crestfallen?” When he seemed hellbent on wishing he were anywhere else, you eased up on your act. Harboring the pit of rejection eating away at your stomach, you pried, “Disappointed?”

The glimpse of vulnerability in your words was not lost on him.

He snapped to, shaking himself out of his funk to reassure you in his gentle timbre amongst the chaos of someone beating the top score on the pinball machine, “I’m not disappointed to be here with you.”

“Then what are you?”

“Sorry,” he guessed, shrugging. He was the type to speak with his hands, moving them despite being confined to his pockets. “I’m sorry our friends suck at communicating and this is how your night turned out; you being here with me when you were clearly expecting someone else.” His gaze didn’t dare dip lower than your nose, but the effort you put into your appearance did not go unnoticed. It wasn't the first time he stared a little too directly into your eyes after you decided to stop covering yourself up.

“I don’t go on dates intending to find my one true love or anything lame like that,” you said, honestly. “I go on them to have fun, and I think we can still have fun, even if we have to share the same tiny lunch table come Monday, and we side-eye Carl for bringing tuna again.” He almost smiled at that.

Sensing he needed another boost of confidence, you kept going, “Before I knew it was you, Robin was talking you up in the car. Going on about how my date was some sweet guy, super handsome, and with a heart of gold. You know, the Prince Charming type. Oh, and totally obnoxious too. Real loudmouth who never shuts up.”

Okay, maybe some of that was ad libbed, but you wanted to know how much of it was true.

Eddie shifted from foot to foot, subduing his grin by biting his tongue, literally. “That’s a pretty apt way to describe me back in high school, yeah, especially with how I’m dressed.”

“What changed?”

“Uh, I had a kid,” he laughed. “She stole all my charm. I swear Adrie can talk me into anything.”

“I think you’re just a pushover.”

“Probably,” he surrendered. Raising his brows, he mused aloud one of the many things on his mind, “Do you not agree that she described me accurately? Sweet Prince Charming guy, all that?”

There was no way in hell you were going to speak your truth. Instead, you smirked. “I don’t think you want to know what adjectives I’d use to describe you.” They were far too vulgar to utter in a crowded room. Hot in the most annoying way. Absolute pain in my ass. Just the worst, especially when I don’t hear you sneak up behind me in the kitchen, and you think it’s funny to scare me right as I open my drink from the Coke machine, and you laugh your stupid laugh when I drop it. An absolute eye-sore when you look up at me while you're on your hands and knees cleaning up the mess you created. Irritatingly handsome when you grin and buy me another one.

Ignorant to your private thoughts, he swung his elbow out to push you, and smiled.

Relaxing into the natural lull in conversation, you both watched your friends make it to the front of the line and order their food. They waited at the counter, starting the clock on when they would inevitably make it back to the two of you, and cease your alone time with Eddie. (Although, first, they’d have to traverse an entire bucket of dropped popcorn, and navigate around more than one group of children reenacting a fight scene they just watched on the big screen.)

“Were you disappointed I was your date?” you asked.

Robin was right. Eddie was a sweetheart. As soon as he detected an inkling of insecurity–whether it be in your strained voice, or etched into your face, or imbued in the question itself–he was quick to absolve your worry.

“No, no,” he said. “Relieved, if I’m being honest.”

“Relieved?” You weren’t expecting that.

“There’s a reason I haven’t dated since having Adrie. It didn’t sound like Steve made it clear to.. you, well, my anonymous date which happened to be you. Jesus, this is confusing. Whatever, you know what I mean, he didn’t say if he told my would-be date that I’m a dad, and I was afraid of coming here and having to tell them myself. Even if we hit it off, it’s a deal breaker for some people, y’know? Not that I blame them. I would’ve said the same thing five years ago.”

You nodded as you listened to him. “Never thought about it from that perspective. All my dates have been one-and-dones. Super casual. Kids were never really brought up.”

“Yeah, the dating world isn’t always so gracious. I’m kinda glad I’m here with you–someone who knows me, at least.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Steve raising his sodas above his head as two boys ran past him, pretending they were in a shootout.

Knowing he wouldn’t have time to respond, you informed Eddie, “You’re worrying about the wrong thing. Adrie’s an angel. You should be more concerned about your curmudgeonly attitude being a deal breaker.” His narrowed-eye glare had never felt so sweet.

Robin’s giddy presence became known. She dropped her chin to your shoulder with a satisfied hum, and wrapped her arm around your waist to hug you snug to her body. You laid your head on top of hers, swaying with her.

She must’ve made a face at Eddie, because a different emotion flinched across his features, and he was back to avoiding making eye contact.

You, however, were more enticed by the drink in her hand than analyzing his change in demeanor. “Shit, now I want an Icee.”

“Yeah, I got cherry,” she said, angling the straw towards you. “They have Coke too–Okay, bye, dork,” she giggled after you.

“Go ahead and sit without me! I want an Icee.” Nancy clutched the largest size of popcorn to her chest to avoid spilling it as you stumbled out of Robin’s hold and darted for the concession stand.

Eddie raised his voice, “You couldn’t have decided that five minutes ago when I asked?”

“Nope!”

————

The theater for the low budget horror flick reflected the town’s perception of it. As soon as the heavy door closed behind you, your footsteps on the dense carpet echoed around the empty room. Your group was sitting in the back row, and their murmurs could be heard from the bottom.

You climbed up to them and flumped into the seat next to Eddie. “We can share,” you said excitedly, shaking the drink at him before placing it in the cupholder at the end of the single armrest.

When the subtle pinch of concern around his eyes remained, you promised him you didn’t have cooties.

He played with his rings, pulling them down the length of his fingers and spinning them while he worked through his confusion. “You don’t have to sit next to me.. You can sit next to Robin.” He motioned beside him, to Steve munching on his popcorn while Nancy held it, and Robin whispering on the end, rolling her eyes at something Nancy said.

“Why wouldn’t I sit next to you?”

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to settle on what he wanted to say, and finishing with a submissive shrug, leather jacket groaning at the act. He bounced his foot quicker, shaking the aglets on his laces against his boot in a chaotic rhythm. “Dunno..”

“You’re silly. I’d pinch your cheek if I didn’t think you’d bite me.” He reeled at that, and you giggled. You didn’t mind making him balk at your weird quirks; whatever put him at ease. Rather, whatever made him stop rubbing his knee against yours, because you were certain the friction was about to cause a fire.

Digging through your purse, you took out a rectangular box and slid your finger under the flap, popping it open and dumping a handful of candy into your palm. You threw it back into your mouth. “Want sh-ome?” you chewed, offering the box to him.

“Who the hell eats Mike and Ikes?”

“Uh, me, jerk.” Right as the lights dimmed to pitch black, and the curtains drew back from the screen, you hit him with the most exaggerated pout. “I only eat them at the movies. They’re a ritual, and you’re rude.” The shadows lining his face twisted into a deeper grin. “Are you more of a chocolate guy?”

“Maybe,” he answered like he was suspicious of your motives.

And maybe he should be. Afterall, you committed the number one sin when it came to cinemas.

“Looks like I chose right,” you said, reaching into your purse and pulling out a Kit Kat. “I was hoping my date would be a chocolate sorta guy–” You went quiet seeing his eyes widen a touch. “I mean, not date. Begrudging coworker? Tentative acquaintance?”

“Reluctant friend,” he answered smoothly, taking the package from you and ripping it open with his teeth.

~~~

Trailers for other films played, bathing the room in flickers of light interrupting the darkness. The opening credits began. Your candy was half-eaten. His was devoured. You took a sip of your Icee, and from the vantage point of pressing your back into the cheap theater seat, you observed him in your periphery.

His gaze hardly left the drink. Your offer to share it gnawed at him in a visible way. Scoping out the straw, the possible trace of spit you left behind, the possible trace of spit he’d leave behind. He peered at the screen to acknowledge the intro, and then back down it was, boring holes into the Icee.

You were no better, nibbling at your lips when he finally caved and took a sip–all too quick, and clumsy, almost missing the cup holder when he put it back down with lightning speed.

The edge of your thighs touched under the arm rest; worse so, when you folded one leg under you, and leaned into him. “Do you hate it when people talk during movies?”

“Not these kind.” He meant the genre in general, which made for great fodder for ripping apart in friend groups, but another popular trope among this realm of fiction became apparent. The first set of tits flashed on screen, and you both found yourselves lacking in the commentary department.

After a moment, you tilted your head. “That actress looks familiar..”

“She’s been in other cult classics. Always acts with her eyebrows.” He turned to you and nudged your shoulder, vying for your full attention. He emphasized the end of each word with an inflection as if it were a question, and raised his eyebrows in every way possible, mocking her slowly, “She’s the one who always talks like this–!” He looked crazy contorting his face to make his point.

“That’s it!” You snapped. “Her wearing glasses really threw me off.”

“Mhm.” His hum vibrated along your upper arm pressed to his, and he asked quietly under the screams of the first gorey death, “Do you like B movies?”

“Hell yeah. Back home they would play them at this rooftop drive in place. I rarely paid to watch them, though. The next building over had a good view of the projector screen.”

His banter dropped in favor of chewing on the corner of his thumb. If it wasn’t for the wild change in scenery cast across his face, you could’ve sworn his faint smile faltered into inscrutability.

Did you say something wrong?

————

“Damn, that was a cool practical effect,” Eddie complimented the purplish fizzing ooze that once was a person.

“I know, right? That’s why I love these bad movies. There’s no budget for good CGI, so they have to do creative stuff like that.”

It was inevitable. Bound to happen. A mere act of fate. Stars aligning in the close knit group leaning forward to exchange witty quips about the hare-brained plot holes in the movie, and not minding their surroundings except to receive everyone’s laughter, making jokes at the expense of the bad acting.

Steve was asking a question that was technically answered by the movie’s lore if he’d paid attention to the dialogue during the second gratuitous stripping scene. You or Eddie could have answered, but Robin took it upon herself to explain, and you two nodded along.

Absentminded, you reached for the Icee.

Distracted, Eddie reached for the Icee.

The waxed paper cup was cold under your fingers, but your hand was blanketed by warmth.

Slow to process, you both glanced down at the reason why neither of you were achieving your goal, and the overload of sensory inputs faded away to one: touch.

Your thumb was trapped under his palm, and his fingers stretched around the cup, meeting yours on the other side and housing them beneath his in a steady amount of pressure. They were almost interlocking. Holding. Wrist on top of wrist–his with the extra harshness of his leather and chain bracelet on your skin. The heaviness of his forearm resting on yours.

Truly, the accident lasted all of two pumps of your heart, but it felt like more when he stroked his calloused fingertips over your knuckles as he let go.

“Sorry!” he blurted.

“S-Sorry,” you laughed, jittery from the encounter.

Your cheeks were hot. His were flushed red. The lewd moaning of a woman feigning to orgasm just from the male lead removing her bra alone played in the background. Neither of you could decide which plan of escape was less embarrassing: continuing to stare like idiots at each other, or watch the actress’ ginormous boobs bounce as she faked riding a guy.

You blinked. His eyebrows ticced up.

Boobs it was.

He adjusted how he sat, tugging his jeans down his legs a little, and crossing his arms. Eyes laser focused on the woman’s face. The why was obvious, and you couldn’t help but tease him for pretending to be a gentleman in your company when you held no such modesty when it came to ogling her tits.

“Thinking about how much Aquanet she uses?”

“Shut up.”

————

Later into the film, after the plot circled back to the juicy gore, you leaned into Eddie to ask him a question.

What that question was, you couldn’t remember.

As soon as you placed your elbow on the armrest and used the back of your hand to tap his shoulder, he dipped his head to hear you. It was an automatic thing starting from the moment you slouched in your seat. That’s all. A shift in your sitting position and intake of breath, and he knew you were going to speak, and he wanted to listen. He cared about what you had to say. He leaned into you as well, because listening to you took priority over the movie.

“Eddie?” You sought any words. Any words at all. Any would do. Any question, even if you knew the answer. “Uhm. The music sounds really familiar. Do you recognize it?”

“It’s the same composer as Chopping Mall and Deathstalker II.”

“Ah.”

Ah. All you could muster when you were charmed by the silhouette of his lips moving. Watching them form letters, pout on the plosives, press into a line on his thick swallow.

Ah. All you could say when his hair brushed over your fingers. Dry, in need of a deep conditioning. Curling around your forefinger. Tickling your palm.

Ah. All you could respond with when you lifted your gaze, and caught him staring at you like you stared at him.

————

As predicted, the filmmakers padded the runtime with another topless scene, and the movie ended on a witty one liner that included not one, but two puns, and no resolution to the numerous plot threads left hanging.

“That was.. certainly something!” Robin summed up, holding the doors open to the subdued hours of the night.

Once outside in the fresh air, the dynamic reverted back to its original status.

Your friends made themselves scarce in the worst way; whistling, shuffling to the side as they found asinine things to comment on, leaving you and Eddie alone. Their intentions were pure, but reality was not so kind.

Eddie cemented his gaze on the sidewalk as he picked at his callouses, and apologized for the mistake of going out with you. Again. “Sorry about all this.”

Itchy sweat broke out across your back. It sucked he was so brazen about rejecting you. You had hoped some of the tender crush you had on him extended past the armrest you shared, the looks you shared, the touches you shared; but maybe you were just tricking yourself into finding things that weren’t there.

Wanting to end on a better note, you appealed to him in a last ditch effort to smooth over the situation, “I meant it when I said you looked good tonight. It’s nice to see you outside of your work clothes.”

“Thanks.”

That’s all. Thanks. A shy glance from beneath his curtain of messy hair, and a somber tone to maximize the awkwardness of the not-date with your coworker.

You needed to get the hell out of there. “See you Monday?”

“Yeah, see you Monday.”

The group winced in unison when they saw the way you two departed.

Robin was quick to link her arm with yours and gather you closer, bringing your heads together to gossip as you walked back to her car. “That bad, huh?”

Around the corner and out of sight, you gave her half a smile, trying to appear in better spirits. “Well, I don’t think he likes me. He didn’t return any of my compliments, and he apologized for being on a date with me no less than four times over the course of the evening.”

She cringed for you. “That’s worse than Balloon Guy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, remembering what would go down in history as the shittiest date you’d been on. “Yeah, that’s more times than Balloon Guy.” Robin hugged you tighter, making your steps go clumsy. She apologized for Eddie’s weirdness, but you shrugged. Maybe you were supposed to find it weird, too. Maybe you were supposed to disapprove of the idea of romantic feelings for your coworker, too. Maybe you were supposed to have no expectations for it to lead anywhere, too.

Maybe you were supposed to reject him, too.

————

Still loitering outside the theater, Steve exchanged a look with Nancy, and jogged to catch up with Eddie before he made it too far in the opposite direction.

“Uh, hey buddy!” Steve clapped him on the shoulder to stop him. “It sounded like you two were hitting it off during the movie, what happened?”

Eddie sulked under the question. His chest fell with a surrendering sigh, and his boots scraped the concrete as he turned to him, not bothering to mask the dullness in his slack expression. Everything about him was tired, including his voice when he slipped into a lower, raspy octave. “She’s nice, but..”

“But what?” Nancy asked, searching his face.

Bottling his burdens, he clenched his teeth, and worked his jaw as he contemplated evading their insistent prying; but after ruminating on it, he explained the source of his problems, “She lives a very.. whimsy life.” He fluttered his hand like a bird flapping its wings, or a butterfly. “She does this thing where she says ‘yes’ to anything anyone asks her; it’s why she moved to Hawkins, and why she ended up on this date to begin with. Y’know, just doing whatever seems like fun. It’s cute, in a way, and obviously I.. feel a way towards her, but this place isn’t where she’s looking to lay down roots. New York is her home.”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, knowing what was about to come.

“I’ve already been left for someone better.. I can’t go through that again.” Eddie’s eyes begged them to understand. “I don’t want Adrie to get attached to someone who’s just gonna leave.”

Nancy started, “Eddie–You don’t know if she’d leave.”

He shook his head, and pulled away from Steve’s lingering grasp. Shushed his friend’s well-meaning words about him being valued, and to forget his insecurities about not being good enough.

“A girl like that doesn’t need me weighing her down,” Eddie said, imparting the wisdom he’d come to accept since you made a mark on his life weeks ago, when it became your mission to befriend him. “I’ll pick up Adrie in the morning. Thanks for watching her.”

The night got darker as he left.

Darker still, when Steve waved at his back, and Nancy played with the locket around her neck, and her goodbye went disregarded.

————

Silence.

It surrounded him. Blood pulsing in his ears, his heart beat, the refrigerator hum, the tink of glass bottles as he grabbed the full six pack and brought it to the couch, springs squeaking under his weight.

Utter emptiness welcomed him.

Not a sound in his home. Not a giggle from his daughter, or scrape of a skillet from Wayne’s makeshift breakfast-dinner before he went to work. Even the dogs around the trailer park were quiet.

Just.. nothing.

It was what he wanted, right? A night to himself; a break from the chores, the questions, the food making, the taking care of a tiny human being who made everything tougher than it needed to be.

He got his wish.

Two beers down in peace, he got his wish.

Eddie looked around his trailer lit by the single lamp beside him.

Quiet, empty, nothing.

Dark silence.

The jolt of his sob startled him. It erupted from his chest so suddenly. Ripped from the tightness of repressed emotions; the things he tried to deny, to feel and then lock away. To keep safe, buried down deep where he could manage them from progressing past the boundaries he created for his own good, and Adrie’s. He felt the agony of them all at once. The morning smiles, the afternoon laughs, the evenings of pretending you didn’t plan to bump into each other in the doorway to the lobby. The game of seeing how long he could watch you twirl the phone cord around your finger before you looked up from your desk. Your sweet way of comforting him after the hard nights of Adrie’s sleep regression by taking his tan work jacket and draping it over his shoulders while he slept at the lunch table in the break room. Your gentle method of fixing his collar when it was tucked on the inside of his coveralls.

The date was too good to be true.

In fact, the truth itself was far more painful.

The date was amazing. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had more fun. More thrills, sure. But not more fun. There wasn’t a day in his youth where he experienced more of the flirty thrum in his veins than when he committed himself to learning the way your lips moved when saying his name in the darkened theater.

The date was perfect. He was happy. And he couldn’t have it again. Shouldn’t have it again. Wouldn’t have these feelings again.

Eddie doubled over and put his third beer on the floor before he spilled it. Nothing was discernible beyond the water invading his ability to see, to fathom his reflection in the old TV. Sad, miserable, and lonely. An idiot for finally getting attached to someone, and it was someone he wasn’t supposed to.

Tears slipped from between his lashes. He smeared them on his cheeks, covering his sweaty face from his possessions bearing witness to his stupidity.

It was in his best interest to reject you–reject your casual stance on dating, and relationships, and people with kids–but the face you made when your advances went underappreciated churned his stomach.

He needed to be stronger. But he was weak.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighed into the stale air. Opening another beer, he nursed it as he huddled into the corner of the couch, and searched for Adrie’s quilt to soothe him. But of course, he sent it with her when he dropped her off at Steve’s.

No baby blanket to hold onto. No Adrienne to sleep on his chest to ease the pain of loneliness. No reason to look forward to Monday after he royally screwed everything up.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned.

Maybe, if he apologized enough, there was a chance you wouldn’t hate him.

Maybe, if you forgave him, you’d go back to the morning smiles, and the afternoon laughs.

And maybe, if he was enough of a masochist, he’d let you gently ease past those boundaries meant to keep you, and your kindness out. If you wanted to trespass, that is. He didn’t know. He was an idiot.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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geekfanficwriter · 3 years ago

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Caught Somewhere in Time- Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader Part 2/?

Summary: You end up in the 80s, 20 years earlier than it should be luckily a certain metalhead is about to make your time in the 80s much easier. Words: 2.7k Warnings: None

Part 1 Part 3

Masterlist

March 16th, 1984

After all the business with the Demogorgon, the government had shown up and told everyone to keep silent. You had stayed hidden at first, worried at first you would be taken back to the facility but after some negotiations (and definitely not blackmail), you had been allowed to stay out in the world. You had managed to negotiate for help buying all the basics you needed to start up (clothes, a place to stay, etc.) as well as a new birth certificate and other IDs giving you their date of birth of 25th February 1968 and you were officially a sixteen year old in 1984 attending Hawkins High and doing all the other shit normal sixteen-year-olds who were 20 years in the past did. Joyce had offered to let you stay with her and the boys at first but you declined. You didn’t want to be a burden on them plus you felt like it was safer for you to be on your own. With everything that had happened with Will, you wanted them to live a happy life as a family without the burden of some girl with superpowers being grabbed by some shadow government or something. So now you lived in a shitty trailer and your only friends were Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan but life didn’t completely suck. Even if you weren’t living with the Byers, Joyce had taken on a sort of motherly role, every Saturday the two of you went to the grocery store then you ate dinner with them. You lived the life of a fairly normal teenager, well as close as you could be to a normal teenager when you continuously got confused about what did and didn’t currently exist. You were currently sitting in the canteen poking at the meatloaf in front of you trying to figure out what the hell it actually was. You thought canteen food in the 2000s sucked but apparently the standards were higher than they had been 20 years earlier. You were sitting alone waiting for Steve, who was currently in the lunch queue, to come to sit with you. ‘So how was class?’ Steve asked sitting down opposite you, his hair was perfectly styled as per usual. You often wondered what time he woke up to make sure his hair was styled every day. ‘Boring, I hate math.’ You replied continuing to play with the food in front of you. ‘Also, this is gross.’ You pushed the tray away giving up on attempting to eat the food. You would make yourself a sandwich when you got home. ‘Yeah, it’s not good. You were in class with Nancy right? Where is she?’ ‘Some club, study group with Jonathan I think. I was going to go but I didn’t want to.’ You shrugged. ‘You guys got plans tonight?’ ‘We’re going to check out Footloose, Nancy wants to see it.’ ‘Oh, so you guys are going to sit at the back of the theatre making out you mean?’ You joked. ‘No, definitely not.’ He picked up the bread roll which was on his tray and picked a bit off, throwing it at you. ‘You’re disgusting.’ ‘Hey! Don’t throw food at me, Harrington.’ You laughed at him. ‘Oh yeah, what are you going to do about it?’ ‘I’ll set you on fire.’ You jokingly glared at him. ‘You wouldn’t do that. I’m your best friend. Anyway, what are your plans for this evening?’ ‘Oh, I’ve got a big date, huge actually. With Jeopardy.’ ‘You need to get out more. Go on an actual date with an actual human.’ ‘With who exactly? All the boys here are gross.’ ‘I’m sure you’ll find someone.’ Just then the lunch bell went off signalling the end of the period. You grabbed your bag out from under the table and slung it over your shoulder. ‘I’ll see you later, Harrington.’ ‘See you, and remember don’t be late or I’m not taking you home.’ ‘Yeah, yeah.’ You mumbled walking off. Heading towards your next class.

You had decided not to go to your final period that day. It was only study hall which you hated plus you wanted to read your book and the study hall teacher never let you read unless it was for school. You had found a bench in the forest nearby the school, far enough that you wouldn’t be caught but close enough you could hear the bell so you weren’t late for meeting Steve. You had your copy of Rosemary’s Baby open, you had seen the movie before but had never read the book and so far you were enjoying it. ‘Hello.’ You heard a voice behind you say causing you to drop your book on the forest floor. You spun around seeing some guy you’d see around your school. You couldn’t remember his name but his long, curly hair and the fact that everyone called him a freak made him stand out. ‘Sorry didn’t mean to scare you.’ He leant down and picked up your book from the ground looking at the cover. ‘Rosemary’s Baby, nice I’ve seen the film.’ He said handing it over to you. ‘Umm, yeah, I love the movie so I decided to read the book.’ You spoke cautiously kind of freaked out as to why he was also out in the woods. You were pretty sure you’d be alone out here. ‘I’m Eddie.’ He said sitting down opposite you and holding out his hand for you to shake. ‘Y/N.’ You shook his hand looking at the rings on his fingers. ‘Cool rings.’ ‘Thanks, cool shirt.’ He said pointing at the Slayer shirt you were wearing. ‘Thanks, I saw it at a thrift shop and I just had to have it.’ You said fiddling with the hem. He was kind of cute actually. You didn’t know how you hadn’t noticed before. ‘Well, it’s good to see there are some people in this town that appreciate good music. Although I can’t imagine your boyfriend is a big fan of metal.’ ‘Boyfriend?’ You looked up at him confused. ‘Yeah, you’re Harrington’s girl right?’ ‘Steve? Eww no, he’s just my friend. Plus he’s dating Nancy.’ You made a face of disgust at the idea of dating Steve. ‘Ah, I just figured you guys were together considering you’re always flirting, like today at lunch.’ ‘That’s not flirting that’s just… being friendly.’ ‘So you’re dating Byers then?’ ‘Okay that’s even worse, he could basically be my brother.’ You loved Jonathan, you two had a lot in common, probably more than you in common with Steve, but having lived with him and Joyce being a mother to you, you could never even imagine dating him. ‘Hey is your shirt for DnD?’ You said looking at his shirt. You had no idea what Hellfire Club was aside from one of the many school clubs but it seemed cooler than basketball or math club or whatever. ‘Yeah, how did you know?’ ‘The dice.’ You said pointing to the corner of your own shirt where the dice sat on his own. ‘I used to play but I haven’t in a while.’ It was true you loved DnD. Although you would probably struggle to play now as you had only ever played 2nd edition and a bit of 3rd edition after it came out, neither of which existed currently. ‘Ah well, Hellfire is actually the DnD club I run if you want to come. It’s only guys but it’ll be nice to have a girl there.’ ‘Yeah, I’ll definitely consider it.’ You smiled. God, you’d been speaking to this guy for like two minutes and you were crushing on him. Maybe Steve was right, you needed to go on a date if you got this flustered just from talking to a guy. A very attractive guy who shared a lot of your interests but still he was just a guy. ‘Well, as lovely as it’s been talking to you, sweetheart, I am unfortunately here on business and I don’t think you want to be around for that.’ He indicated to the black metal lunchbox in front of him and you realised that it didn’t just contain his lunch. Although you were less focused on that and more focused on the fact he’d just called you sweetheart. ‘Ah sorry, I’ll head off. The school day is nearly over anyway and if I don’t get back, I won’t get home.’ You said shoving your book into your bag. You stood up getting ready to walk away when you thought. ‘Actually how much do you sell for?’ You asked him. He raised his eyebrows at you. ‘You smoke?’ He questioned you, a smirk on his face. ‘Not in a while.’ You replied. It was true, you had smoked a couple of times back in Nevada as it helped numb your powers. Now you needed a smoke because at night it hit you. The truth is that you would never get back to your family, that at some point in the future they were looking for you and that kept you up at night. Plus the nightmares that your back in the facility, waking you but in a cold sweat. You needed something to help you sleep. ‘You haven’t done a lot in a while.’ ‘Yeah. I got sent to one of those rehabilitation camps for deviant teens, you know the sort of thing I’m talking about. So yeah, can’t do anything fun at those.’ You lied. You couldn’t exactly tell him the truth. That you’d been kidnapped in 2001 and somehow time travelled back to 1982. I mean if you started telling people that you’d be committed. ‘Oh yeah, I know the sort of thing. Well, it’s $20 for a half-ounce.’ He said opening the lunchbox and pulling out a bag marked with a weight. You nodded and dug around in your bag, pulling out your wallet and grabbing a twenty, handing it over to him. ‘Pleasure doing business with you.’ He said handing over the bag before stopping. ‘I assume if you were sent away you don’t have all the other shit?’ He asked. ‘Yeah but I can go grab some.’ You couldn’t go to the general store as Joyce worked there but there were other places in town that sold rolling papers and filters, and although it wasn’t the best option you could probably use a pepper grinder. ‘Don’t bother. I’ve got it.’ He smiled grabbing papers, filters, and a grinder, before handing you the bag with all the stuff in it. ‘Thanks, how much extra do you want?’ You asked him, shoving it in the bottom of your bag. ‘Consider it on the house.’ He winked at you, causing heat to rise in your face. ‘Oh well, double thanks then.’ You zipped up your bag and picked up it off the bench. ‘You give all your customers free shit?’ You asked smiling at him. ‘Only the pretty ones.’ He said smiling back at you. ‘Well when you run out, you know where to find me.’ He indicated around him. ‘Yeah, I’ll see you around.’ You said starting to walk away. You were definitely late to meet Steve for your ride home at this point but you were too happy to care. ‘Nice to meet you, Y/N.’ He called after you. ‘Nice to meet you too, Eddie.’ You said turning around to face him before walking back towards the school.

When you reached the school you still hadn’t stopped smiling. You saw Steve leaning against his car and when he stopped you he looked pissed. ‘I told you not to be late.’ He said climbing into the driver’s seat. ‘Yeah you also said, you’d leave without me which you didn’t’ You said climbing into the passenger side. ‘Well, I felt bad abandoning you. Why are you so smiley anyway?’ He said looking over at you with a look of confusion on your face. ‘I am not smiley.’ You tried to make your face more neutral but you couldn’t get Eddie out of your head. ‘Umm, yeah, you are. You’ve got a big stupid grin on your face.’ ‘Oh so I’m not allowed to be happy is that it? Just because I’m stuck in the past with no family, I have to be miserable, huh?’ ‘No that’s not what I’m saying. You’re just all mopey most of the time.’ ‘Such a bad friend Harrington.’ You shook your head at him. ‘You’re a bitch you know that.’ He shook his head and laughed at you. He stopped pressing you and you drove the rest of the way back to your trailer in silence.

March 19th, 1984

The weekend had been fairly uneventful. You had gone round to the Byers' as you did every Saturday spending the time talking to Will about his DnD game while helping Joyce in the kitchen. The rest of your weekend was spent smoking your supply and watching whatever shit was on TV. When Monday rolled around you woke up early and got dressed, putting a bit more effort into your appearance than you normally did. You told yourself it was because you just wanted to feel nice but it was definitely because you wanted Eddie to notice you. After arriving at school, you and Steve were stood by your locker as you grabbed a couple of books. Nancy had been with the two of you but she had headed to class early to ask the teacher a couple of questions giving Steve an opportunity to ask you about gift ideas for her. ‘I don’t know, I have very different tastes from Nancy. Why are you getting her a gift anyway?’ You asked as you shut your locker. ‘Because I want to do something nice for my girlfriend. Hey, can we go grab some stuff from my locker?’ ‘Yeah sure.’ You said and two of you started walking towards his locker. As you were walking you spotted him. There was Eddie who stood talking to the other members of the Hellfire Club. You couldn’t help but stare at him. God he looked so good, his rings and long hair and the chain hanging from his jeans. You can’t believe you’d never really noticed him before. I mean he was exactly your type. ‘Ow.’ You said as you collided with a door. You had been so busy staring at Eddie that you hadn’t even noticed that one of the classroom doors directly in front of you was open. ‘Who put a door there?’ ‘What’s wrong with you? You weren’t listening to anything I said then you walk into a door.’ ‘Nothings wrong with me.’ You said glancing back at Eddie. Steve followed your eyes and gasped. ‘Munson? Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, is what’s got you distracted?’ He laughed at you. ‘He’s not a freak, he’s nice. And I’m not distracted.’ You blushed slightly. ‘Oh my god. You have a crush on him.’ Steve said far too loudly. ‘I do not! And can you keep your voice down, I don’t think they heard you in Oregon.’ ‘All boys are gross I’m never getting in a relationship.’ Steve mocked you. ‘Now you’re here crushing on Eddie Munson.’ ‘Could you please shut up?’ ‘I’m just excited that my best friend is finally going to get a boyfriend.’ He said wrapping you in a hug and tousling your hair. ‘I am not going to get a boyfriend and you’re being annoying.’ You said escaping from his grasp. You flatten your hair back down, glancing over at Eddie hoping he hadn’t noticed Steve being an idiot. He was still talking to his friends, laughing, and joking around. ‘You guys would be perfect together. You both listen to that terrible metal music.’ ‘Hey! Don’t diss metal music.’ You lightly smacked him on the chest. ‘Besides having the same music taste doesn’t mean we should date.’ ‘No, but the fact your eyes are practically shaped like hearts right now does.’ You sighed, Steve was never going to let this go. You looked back over to Eddie realising that he was also looking at you. When the two of you made eye contact, he winked at you causing you to blush. You were far too into him.

Taglist: @michaelfuckinglangdon @taygra5shaon @eddiemunson4ever

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

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wordsandupstead · 2 years ago

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Bodyguard AU

pairing: upstead summary: AU where Hailey is the daughter of a politician, and Jay is hired as her bodyguard, much to her dismay. word count: 2k bingo square filled: Bodyguard Au for @resanoona #resa.3kfiestabingo masterlist

Hailey swings open her front the door, and takes a step back in confusion when she’s not greeted by a delivery guy with a package. Instead, she’s faced with a man dressed in jeans and t-shirt, and he’s empty handed. He speaks before Hailey can recover from her surprise. “Hi, are you Hailey Upton?” When Hailey just nods, he continues, “I’m Jay Halstead, your dad hired me as your bodyguard.”

A frown immediately takes over Hailey’s features. Hailey knew her dad, a career politician, was worried because of the anonymous threats that had been coming in recently. When he voiced these concerns, Hailey had assured him she could take care of herself. He had insisted he send a bodyguard, at least until the threats could be further investigated. Hailey thought she had done a pretty good job of diffusing her fathers concern by the end of the conversation, but as always, he went and did what he wanted anyway.

“My dad’s just paranoid. Thanks for coming, but really I’m good. I don’t need you.” Hailey starts to close the door in his face, but Jay reaches his hand out, stopping the door.

He stares at her with piercing green eyes, studying her. “Look, I’m not trying to get in your way, but your dad’s paying me, so I’m here until he tells me not to be.” He says with a shrug.

“My dad still thinks I’m a little kid that needs protecting.”

“Let me guess, you can protect yourself.” He raises an eyebrow and Hailey swears she recognizes a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I can. You can go, really. I won’t tell my dad you left, and he’ll probably still pay you.” Hailey shrugs, this time successfully closing the door in his face. She feels a bit guilty for being so rude to him, but she consoles herself with the fact that this guy got off easy, and he’ll probably get paid for all the work he’s not gonna do anyway. About a half hour later, Hailey grabs her car keys and purse before pulling open the front door. She stops short when she realize that the guy from earlier is still there on her front porch. He’s stares at her as she steps outside and she stares back at him, frozen.

“This is ridiculous,” Hailey finally recovers, walking past him and down the front steps, he follows, just a half step behind. If he’s anything, it’s persistent.

He clicks the keys to an escalade parked on the street. “It’s really not worth fighting this, Hailey, just let me drive you where you’re going.” His voice flows from behind her and she sighs. Hailey has never liked driving, and she assumes if she turns him down, he’ll just follow her anyway.

“Fine.” She huffs, stomping over to the car and getting into the passenger seat.

“Where are we going?” He questions after walking around and getting into the driver’s seat.

“I’m going grocery shopping. Literally grocery shopping. You really think someones gonna try to kidnap me in the parking lot of trader joes?” He just shrugs and turns the car on, completely ignoring Hailey’s little outburst as he starts driving toward the store.

He drives in silence for a little while, and finally, Hailey decides that if she’s going to have to spend any length of time with this guy, she should at least try to make conversation. “How’d you get this job anyway? You don’t really…look like a bodyguard.” He’s tall, but thin. He has well-defined muscles peeking out from behind his green t-shirt, but he’s not really the 6’5” giant, wide, muscular type she’d expect as a bodyguard.

“Your dad knows someone in my unit, told him he was looking for a bodyguard, and I got recommended.”

“Unit? Like in the army?” She questions, unsure of what that means.

“No, I work for the intelligence unit for the CPD, I’m a detective.”

“Don’t detectives just like interview people and shit, are you sure you’re even qualified for this?”

One side of his mouth raises in a grin, and Hailey counts that as a little victory, getting him to crack a smile. At least he finds this a little bit amusing, it might not be so miserable after all. “I do a little more than just interview people, and I thought you didn’t even need a bodyguard, so what’s there to be qualified for?”

He’s got a point there. “Right, right.”

“This is bullshit and he knows it.” Hailey plops down on the hotel bed, rubbing her hands over her wonderfully makeup free face, although not for long. She’s so tired of getting made up just to stand behind her father with a fake smile on her face. She’s thirty years old. She has a job and a life to get back to that doesn’t involve fake smiling behind her dad to win over a bunch of rich people who don’t really give a shit about anything or anyone but themselves.

Jay chuckles from the chair across the room, and it has quickly become one of Hailey’s favorite sounds.

She sits up, unable to stop the pout on her face. “It’s not funny!” She glares at him, but he only smiles wider.

“It’s just a couple hours. We’ll get ice cream on the way home.” He bribes her, knowing her well enough now to know that having something to look forward to will make the night that much more bearable.

“Soft serve?”

“You mean shitty fast food drive thru ice cream.” He answers back.

“Yes,” She respond, a big smile crossing her face.

Jay shakes his head, but he smiles too, “Fine.”

Jay answers midway through the first ring, “Hailey, is everything okay?” His voice is urgent, worried, and it makes her pause before formulating an answer.

“Yeah, I uh, where are you?” She questions, suddenly feeling silly for calling in the first place.

“I’m at work.”

“Work?”

“Yeah, I’m a detective, remember?”

“Oh, right. Sorry for bothering you.”

Hailey almost says goodbye, but Jay interrupts her before she can. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sorry, go back to detecting.”

He laughs on the other end of the phone, actually laughs and a warmth spreads through Hailey’s chest at the sound.

“But you’re okay?” He asks, genuine concern in his voice.

“Yes.” She insists. “I just…” She pauses trailing off, she what? Missed him? She can’t say that. “There’s that event tonight.”

After the first couple of weeks, the anonymous threats stopped, and Hailey’s dad started to relax a little. He changed the terms of Jay’s contract, so he doesn’t have to accompany Hailey everywhere, only to events. Over the past couple of months since then, they’d fallen into a pretty comfortable routine. Jay got into the habit of showing up really early on event days, and just sticking around until it was time to leave, so as the hours ticked by without him, Hailey started to wonder.

“There’s someone else coming, they should be there any minute.” He reassures her.

“Why someone else? Did my dad fire you?”

“No, Hails, I just got stuck at work, so I called someone else to cover.” He pauses and when she doesn’t respond, he says, “Anyone can do the job, remember, you don’t need protecting.” He reminds her of what she told him the first day he showed up. If he really thinks that’s what she’s worried about, he’s way off.

“Yeah, you’re right.” She halfheartedly replies. “I’ll see you later, Jay.”

“Bye Hailey.”

The new guy sucks. Hailey thought it was the worst thing ever to have Jay as her shadow at first, but she’d grown to appreciate his little comments and the way he somehow managed to stick close by without it feeling like he was invading her personal space. This new guy is acting like he’s someone special, glaring at anyone who dares to look at her, and he’s way too close all the time.

He barely responds to any attempts at communication. He basically just grunts. He doesn’t make funny comments or laugh when she tries to make light of a situation. Every time he shows up, Hailey miss Jay even more.

Hailey knows she should tell someone, like maybe her dad or James, her new bodyguard, but she doesn’t. Her dad finally started to relax about her safety and give her a little more freedom, and Hailey doesn’t want to tell James anything because he still makes her feel uncomfortable.

First, it was emails, emails about how her dad needed to vote a certain way or how they disagreed with her fathers politics. The email address it came from was just a series of numbers. Hailey had no idea who was sending them, so she just wrote them off at first. It didn’t seem like anything too crazy.

Then, it turned into text messages and voicemails sounding angrier and angrier, but it was always centered around politics and her dad’s voting power. They weren’t exactly threats to Hailey, so she continued to ignore them.

The texts began to get more frequent and then more personal. James was still accompanying Hailey to events, but she started to make every excuse not to go to any.

Hailey didn’t mean to stay out so late tonight. She had just gone over to a friends place for a girls night, and time got away from her. Her friends apartment was only a few blocks from where she lived, so when she left her house in broad daylight earlier today, it made sense to just walk. But Hailey is about two blocks from her friends apartment and three from her own when she gets another text. She thinks about turning around to go back, but she doesn’t feel like her friend would be able to do much either. Instead, Hailey ducks into a convenience store, and dials a number she hasn’t called in a while.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Jay, I’m scared, can you please come get me.” She doesn’t have time to explain, and Jay doesn’t ask for more information.

“Where are you?” Is all he asks.

Hailey rattles off the cross streets and the name of the convenience store. “I’m just a few blocks away, I’ll be right there. Wait inside.”

He hangs up and Hailey makes her way toward the back of the store, where she’s far enough from the door, but she still has a clear view of the street.

She get another text that makes her skin crawl. It all ends tonight. The texts didn’t turn this cryptic until today, and Hailey takes a deep breath.

A van pulls up in front of the store and Hailey almost hides behind a rack of chips, but the door slides open, and it reveals Jay. Without realizing it, Hailey sprints toward the van and jumps in. Jay closes the door behind her, and Hailey launches herself into Jay’s arms. This is the closest the two of them have ever been, but Hailey can feel her heart beating erratically in her chest and she wants to be even closer. She wants to feel safe.

“What happened?” Jay questions, checking Hailey over to make sure she’s okay. Hailey opens her mouth to start explaining when the loudest sound erupts around them, and she can barely process that there are actual bullets being hurled at the van before Jay pulls her to the ground, shielding her body with his own. He pulls something off the wall of the van and holds it against her exposed back.

There’s yelling, and shouting in the crackling of a radio. Hailey can make out that Jay didn’t come alone and that whoever is on the other side of the radio is pursuing whoever it was that shot at them. Jay holds her still until they’re met with only silence, then he immediately begins checking to see if she’s injured. When he realizes they’re both unharmed, he pulls her close to his chest. Hailey doesn’t want to move from her spot in his arms, but after a few moments, he insists they have to go to the police station.

He drives them there, and when she gets out in the underground parking lot, she slips her hand into his and he doesn’t resist. He leads her up a stairwell into what looks like an office. Other people are there and he guides her past them into a back room that looks like a break room, and he motions for her to sit on the couch.

Hailey explains everything, the emails, the texts, everything. When Jay asks why she didn’t tell anyone, she admits that she didn’t feel safe with her new bodyguard and she didn’t want to tell her dad. Jay just looks stressed the entire time she’s explaining.

“And you quit and left me with James because you didn’t want to do it anymore or you don’t like me or whatever,” Hailey rants, feeling so emotionally drained and just needing to get the words off her chest because she can’t hold them in anymore. She’s been wondering about this since Jay didn’t show up that one day and then she never got to ask him about it he never showed up to another event.

Jay’s eyes lock onto Hailey’s and an expression that she can’t quite read crosses his face. “What?” She demands.

Jay breaks eye contact, looking down. Hailey waits impatiently until Jay finally says, “I didn’t give up the job because I don’t like you.”

Hailey’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. Why else would he quit unless he didn’t want to spend time with her. Unless the job was so miserable that he couldn’t do it anymore.

“Hailey, I gave up the job because I do like you.”

#Jay Halstead #Hailey Upton #Upstead #Upstead fanfic #Upstead fic #Chicago PD #resa.3kfiestabingo #Jay halstead fic #hailey upton fic

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doexoeyes · 3 years ago

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Hiiiii ! ✨

My Name's Aya, it's sooo nice to stumble upon ur blog !

I, well wanted to make a request (If u could take one ofc) cause obviously i like ur writing or else I wouldn't be here hehe...

Well, I've been thinking, How 'bout a tasm! College Peter x reader, where she owns a flower shop (she kinda stopped college bcz she dosen't have enough money to continue)

She meets peter when he came once to buy flower for his aunt and they get to y'know, joke arround and get to know each other and laugh (he's nervous, but she's cocky and funny so he gets more comfortable with her within sec) (maybe he gets interested about which flowers to pic and she helps him) (I say "she" but could also be a Gn reader no prob) and they became freind and all and she opens up to him ? Maybe he even saves her as spiderman, then she caught feeling for him, but he told her once that he have a crush on gwen so she's always here to help him pick her flowers and all (reader and gwen could be freinds or not) but basically she believes he would be happy with gwen more than he will with her because she's just stuck in her small world without money or freind.

Butt, she's also super optimistic, strong and funny so that's why he fell for her, she also is a great fan of spider-man and have theory's about his identity every time.

Anyways, so if they end up together or not that's up to you darlin' but a story like this one would be veeeeeery wholesome and cute to read ✨

Also sorry this is suuuuper long, I tried ma best to visulize the idea I have in my mind and it turns out that it's soo long sorryyy, hope you liked it though but not sure if you would like to write about it, but if u do, I would really appreciate it, have a good day/Night 💕

hello aya ! ✨ you are absolutely lovely, thank you so much for being so kind & sending a request. it’s actually my first one & I really love this idea ! the details you gave made it exciting to write so I hope I did it justice & thank u for taking the time to send this in 🤧🤍

Pairing: Tasm!Peter x Gn!reader

Warnings: None.

Aunt May has finally graduated from nursing school and Peter wants to get her something special so he decides on a nice bouquet of flowers from a local shop near his apartment.

That local shop just so happens to be yours.

When he enters, he’s nervous in typical Peter fashion, not really knowing what to do or what to ask for so he’s a rambling mess at first.

“Yeah, I’m sorry it’s just..I wanted to get a nice bouquet for someone. I didn’t want to get those pre-made ones from the grocery store though, cause they just feel like not personal, you know? And most of the time the flowers are wilted or sad looking and today’s a big day for her so I wanted to get something really special ‘cause she deserves that and you probably don’t have to know all that and I’m so sorry,” he says, avoiding your gaze as he lets out a nervous chuckle.

Thankfully you’re nice and understanding and he’s incredibly grateful that you don’t make him feel like an idiot and instead help him pick out a stunning bouquet of peach peonies, white dahlias and sprigs of baby’s breath sprinkled throughout.

He’s impressed and ecstatic and his excitement warms your heart because there’s nothing cuter than a guy being giddy over flowers.

You crack some jokes as you wrap them up and he becomes much more relaxed as the conversation progresses.

So much so that he realizes he’s actually seen you before…

“Hey. Don’t you go to Empire State? I think we had English Lit together last year?”

You purse your lips as you finish tying a white bow at the base of the bouquet.

“I used to, actually. Yeah. You’re Peter, right?”

You notice his face light up at your recognition.

“Y-yeah. Peter Parker. I haven’t seen you around campus again though. Did you transfer schools?”

“Nah. I dropped out,” you say plainly and you notice the way his eyes slightly widen before he tries to play it off.

“Turns out running a business while juggling classes and pulling all nighters for finals is an impossible task. I don’t recommend it.”

“You own this store? That’s really cool. Congrats” he says as he looks around in awe.

“Actually, it belongs to my mom. But she umm..she got really sick so she can’t work anymore. And with my dad being out of the picture and no relatives willingly to step up to the plate, I kinda had no choice but to take up the family business. It’s a good thing I like flowers,” you say with a snort.

Peter’s staring at you with a mix of pity and sympathy and although you know he means well, it makes you slightly uncomfortable because you didn’t mean to overshare so much personal information with him.

“Sorry. Can you tell that I do nothing but talk to plants all day? My social skills are literally non existent. Anyways, these are beautiful and I hope that special someone you're going to give them to likes them.”

He chuckles at this and when you respond with a raised brow, he clarifies.

“These are for my Aunt May. She just graduated from nursing school.”

You remember Peter fairly well from school. He used to sit in the row ahead of you in your Statistics class, and one day when you had overslept and showed up late, Peter handed you his notes for you to keep so you wouldn’t be completely lost.

It was a simple gesture, but it was sweet and you appreciated it till this day. So his clarification that the flowers weren’t intended for a significant other sends butterflies fluttering throughout your stomach.

Until he continues.

“There’s no special person in my life. Well, at least, not yet. There is one girl though…her name is Gwen and…I don’t know,” he says with a shrug but his love sick expression says it all and you’re ready to puke.

“That’s great. I wish you luck with her then. And maybe the next time you’re buying flowers, it’ll be for that special someone,” you say with a teasing smile.

You remember Gwen from school as well. She was great. Beautiful, smart, nice. You completely understood why Peter was head over heels.

It still didn’t change the fact that you were a little disappointed though.

After you hand him the flowers, he’s out the door for what you assume was the last time.

But you assumed wrong.

Peter comes back the following week, and then the next, and the next, and soon he visits during your lunch break with take away containers or coffees in hand and sometimes keeps you company when you're closing up the shop.

You bond over your shared love for the same music and movies and sense of humor, but one thing that surprisingly brings you together is your love for Spider-Man.

“He’s the absolute coolest person on the planet. I mean, come on! Spider powers? Swinging around the city, web slinging the bad guys out of the way? A total badass!”

Your praise for the masked vigilante feeds Peter’s ego of course, but he just thinks it’s really cute how your eyes light up in excitement whenever you talk about your favorite ‘superhero’. Especially when your favorite topic comes to play.

“These are my prime suspects for Spidey’s true identity. I’ve been working on this for a while now, and if you make fun of me or make a smart ass comment about it, I will ban you from the store. Like with a picture on the wall and everything.”

Peter’s staring at the opened up folder you plopped in front of him on the register counter. He snorts, eyes taking in the pictures of your ‘suspects’ along with the lengthy notes you have paper clipped to them. Your ‘extra-ness’ was something he genuinely adored.

“Wait, Flash Thompson? Really? You think he’s Spider-Man?” he asks after coming across the sheet, appalled.

“Oh totally, he’s like my number one guess honestly. I mean, he’s fit, he’s tall, and he has an obsession with the guy even more than I do. That seems to me like the perfect way to get people off his trail; pretending to be Spidey’s number one fan. Well I see straight through that bullshit,” you say matter of factly.

Peter looks at you silently for a moment, clearly amused, before shaking his head. “Well, looks like you have your work cut out for you detective.”

“Look, you can tease me all you want, but one day I’m going to figure out who he is and when I do, I won’t even tell you.”

He raises a brow at you, playfully. “Oh yeah? And how do you know I don’t already know?”

“Pfft, oh please Parker. You wish,” you say with a roll of your eyes, turning around to go tend to the work that had to be done.

Peter watches you disappear into the back room with a small, affectionate smile before looking back down at the file.

His picture isn’t in it.

The first time you hang outside of work is at Peter’s suggestion, when he enters the shop one day and slides two tickets over the counter to you.

“So I know you’re busy saving the world one bouquet at a time, but they’re having a special screening at the theatre around the block and they’re playing ‘Little Shop of Horrors’,” he says, leaning on the register counter, brows wiggling as a small smirk places itself on his lips.

“Are you assuming that I like ‘Little Shop of Horrors’ because I own a flower shop?”

He looks at you with a squint, silently daring you to deny it, but the smirk is still intact because he knows that he is, indeed, absolutely right.

You head to the movies after you close the shop early and once you get there you’re both a little too excited about being the only ones at the showing because that means you get to sing along with the songs at the top of your lungs.

You have the best time shouting the lyrics together, especially when it comes to ‘Suddenly Seymour’, thanks to Peter’s dramatic hand gestures towards you. It’s all perfect until his hand bumps into yours when you reach for the popcorn at the same time.

Your stomach does a stupid little flip and you’re now hyper aware of your closeness and the way he turns to look at you throughout the movie.

Oh no….

You like Peter Parker.

You are so screwed.

Peter’s crush on Gwen is still prominent, him coming to you with updates and questions due to your new ‘best friend’ status.

You’re not even sure when it happens but you end up going over to Peter’s house most nights where May makes you her famous lasagna and shows you baby pictures of Peter despite his protest. You also hangout at the park where you watch him skate and the local record shop and the movies and eventually he even gifts you a friendship bracelet when you joke about getting matching ones due to how attached at the hip you two have become.

You’ve never had a friend like this and you’re grateful that it’s with Peter.

But of course, talking about crushes comes with the package, and Peter spills his feelings to you about lovely lovely Gwen Stacy.

And you’re supportive, of course, because at the end of the day you know that Gwen is the best possible person for Peter.

Having Gwen by his side would make him feel like a million bucks.

You on the other hand barely even had a dollar to spare on most days.

You’ll never be anything more than the owner of the little flower shop at Queens that hangs by a thread every single day.

Yet, you can feel it fester inside of you, the pain and envy that came with knowing that Peter would never be yours the way you wished he would be.

Truth was, you loved him, and you were happy to have him in your life any way you could.

But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t wish you were the Gwen Stacy in his life.

“You wouldn’t want to go back?” Peter asks one day, sitting on your work station table, peering over you as you worked on a floral arrangement for a wedding.

“Hmm..I mean, yeah, I guess. But that’s never going to happen.”

“Why not?” he asks, and you look up at him, noticing how focused he is on you and your work.

“Because it’s not like I have anyone else to run this shop. Come on, you know that.”

“Yeah, but..I just think that you really want to go back, and I’m sure there’s a way to do that while also having enough time to run the shop without over exerting yourself.”

You don’t know why, but his response irritates you the slightest bit, so you roll your eyes and look at him with a frown.

“Oh really, is there? Do enlighten me with this fabulous solution of yours, Pete. Given that you know everything, of course.”

You see a flicker of annoyance in his own eyes, and though part of you really wants to wave the white flag before anything begins to escalate, a larger part of you craves to push his buttons some more.

The same part that internally yells at him for never realizing how much it hurts to hear him talk about Gwen.

“Funny. I’m just trying to help you.”

“Even funnier because I don’t remember asking for your help. Ha. Guess we’re starring in a comedy today.”

“You do understand that you have your own life right? That you should do something with it? You know, like something you actually want to do?”

His tone is getting lower and the usual light in his eyes has completely disappeared, but this does nothing to stop you from continuing on.

“I’m sorry, are you seriously lecturing me right now? Oh hey dad, I’m so glad you came back after 10 years. That cigarette break sure took forever.”

“Can you not make a joke out of something for once?”

“No, because this is a joke. A huge one. The fact that you think you know what I want is hilarious to me, because clearly you’re the most ignorant one here.”

“What? Where is this even coming from?”

“It’s coming from the fact that you don’t know a damn thing about me, Peter. And-and I’m getting really tired of you acting like you do. You have no idea what I want. Trust me.”

The argument escalates, and though it hurts to speak to Peter the way you did, your unrequited feelings hurt you way more. It ends with him storming out, the jingle of the bell above the door taunting you as he slips out.

You feel a mixture of anger and sadness and you wish you could scream in frustration, but a man immediately comes in through the door right after, asking for roses for his anniversary dinner.

It’s closing time when the guilt starts to eat at you. You’re so used to having Peter around most nights when you close, especially on Saturday’s when the streets are the busiest.

You’re counting the register when you hear the bell over the door ring, making you to realize that you forgot to lock it.

When you look up, you realize there’s a man with a hood in front of you, and before you can react, he lifts up a pistol and directs it towards you.

“Give me the money or I’ll shoot.”

You feel like everything’s moving in slow motion, a ringing beginning to sound off in your ears, suffocatingly terrified.

You follow the instructions given, handing him all the cash in your register, but despite this, the man doesn’t flee.

“Please. I gave you the money, now please just-“

“Shut the fuck up! I‘ll leave when I want to leave. Now walk over here and get on your knees.”

You're a trembling mess but you do as you're told, tears sliding down your cheeks despite trying your best to keep your composure.

Just as your knees hit the floor, you hear the jingle of the door once more and the man is suddenly pulled away from you.

With wide eyes you realize Spider-Man has webbed the man from behind, pulling him away from you before tossing him out the door. You watch through the window as he quickly shoots webs at his ankles and wrists, immobilizing him, and can hear the man scream before Spider-Man webs his mouth closed, the screams now muffled.

After ensuring the man was dealt with and not running away anytime soon, Spider-Man walks back in, standing awkwardly in the middle of your shop.

“Are you ok ma’m?” he asks, and your eyes are wide, staring at him with a dropped jaw, only managing a little nod.

“You..you used my front door?” you say after a moment, because you’re still in shock and that’s the first thing you could think of to say.

He looks behind him at the door, the muffled screams of the thief still playing in the background from the outside. “Well yeah. You’re a small business, right? I don’t know if you have insurance that can cover the damages of a shattered door,” he responds simply, as if all super heroes thought about the capabilities of a small shop before jumping into action.

“I..I don’t have insurance,”

“You see? That would have really sucked then if I just crashed in.”

The entire situation has you completely dazed. Not only were you almost robbed, but Spider-Man came to your rescue and is standing right in front of you.

You’re pretty sure you’re gonna pass out.

“Hey, it’s ok. You’re safe, I promise. The cops should be on the way and they’ll get this asshole off the streets and you’ll have nothing to worry about. I��m sorry this happened to you,” he states, keeping his distance from you.

As much as Peter is trying his hardest to keep his cool for the sake of his identity, all he really wants to do is wrap his arms around you and apologize.

Because, if it wasn’t for him storming out, he would have kept you company during closing like he did most nights, and that dick head most likely wouldn’t have stepped into the store.

He’s just thankful he had enough mind to pass by the shop as he was doing his rounds around the city.

Even more thankful that he got there in time.

He leaves after making sure you’re okay and trying to keep you from hyper ventalating (you’re starstruck, of course, and Peter has to use all of his self restraint not to laugh or call you cute because god you’re so adorable when your face flushes and your eyes look at him like he’s the greatest person to ever walk the earth).

His mind starts to wonder if you’d still look at him that way if you found out he was actually Spider-Man.

Then he thinks about the way you looked at him when he was just plain old Peter, and he feels his heart speed up when he realizes that it’s not that different actually…

And that’s when he it finally clicks for him.

“You have no idea what I want. Trust me.”

….

How can he be so stupid??

Seriously, a scientific genius that can figure out a cure for lizard people and he couldn’t realize that you liked him?

He’s embarrassed and irritated with himself to say the least.

Especially given all the times he would talk to you about Gwen.

He’s on his way home, swinging, and he actually groans at the thought.

He’s totally kicking himself right now.

Thinking about it now, Peter realizes that, despite the times he would talk to you about her, he didn’t ever seriously think about Gwen that way after he met you.

Every day his crush on Gwen got less serious. He wouldn’t ask her to hang out anymore. He always much rather preferred spending time with you.

He guesses he was too distracted to realize that he was starting to feel the way he felt for Gwen, for you.

‘Good job Parker. Now you totally messed this up for the both of us.’

The next day, Peter comes bursting into your shop, apology at the ready as he fires out every word that’s on his mind.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I don’t know what you want and I shouldn’t act like I do. I didn’t mean to make you upset, I just care for you so much and you’ve become someone so important to me and all I want is for you to be happy. You deserve to be inexplicably happy and if the flower shop makes you happy, then do it. But if school makes you happy, then I can help you with that. I thought about it and you can take classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays on my off days, and I can totally cover your shift and run the shop and trust me, I’ve watched you enough so I know I can do it, and if anything I can watch you some more and I can tutor you if you need help in math cause I know that’s not your strong suit cause you told me but you’re so smart and you can do it and you can totally graduate and I’ll help you and you can come over for dinner every night if you’re too exhausted to cook and-are you crying?”

Peter’s staring at you in horror as tears flow freely down your cheeks. He’s starting to think he messed up again but you begin to shake your head as a smile breaks out on your face and he sees in your eyes that you’re looking at him in that way and he feels a fluttering in his chest.

“It’s just that….you’re absolutely amazing Peter, and I’m so thankful that you’re in my life. Thank you for that, really. And I’m sorry, too. I wasn’t actually mad at you because of what you said, I know you’re just trying to help. I’m just stupid and frustrated and I took that out on you. But…just…thank you for being so…” and you let out a light, watery laugh and shrug because the words aren’t enough.

And he understands, completely, because words could never properly explain how much he loves you.

“Oh, and I’m actually not just here to loiter today. I would like to buy some flowers,” he states proudly.

At this, your eyes widen.“Really? For who?”

“You remember the first time I came in here? You said that the next time I buy flowers it would be for my special someone?”

“Y-yeah,” you say, the slight confusion and wariness evident in your tone.

“Well, today’s the day.”

Your stomach drops at this but you make sure your face shows no sign of it. You love Peter and you’re beyond happy for him that he’s finally taking that step with Gwen. So when he requests you to make a bouquet that’s full of your personal favorites, you do so with a smile.

You hand them to him and Peter thanks you with a grateful smile and you watch the door jingle close as he walks out, taking a small shaky breath in before letting it out.

Acceptance.

…..

….

…

A few seconds later, you see Peter make his way back to the store and you watch him with furrowed brows as he enters and approaches you at the counter once again.

He hands you the flowers silently and your eyes flicker back and forth to them and him, genuinely confused.

“W-what happened? Is there something wrong with them?” you ask, concern laced in your tone.

“No, they’re perfect. It’s just that they’re for you.”

You look at him silently for a moment, stunned.

“W-what…?” and it finally hits you.

When he sees the realization in your eyes, he smiles adoringly at you, warm eyes softening.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. I don’t know if you noticed, but i’m not as sharp as I seem. I get really distracted and miss out on what’s in front of me, even when it’s undeniably perfect. But, I really, really like you and I promise, my feelings for you are genuine. It just took me a bit to realize what they were, but..I would love it if you could be my special someone.”

You watch him in complete disbelief.

Did Peter just confess his feelings for you?

“I…” your mouth keeps opening and closing and Peter’s sure you’re short circuiting.

“Hey, it’s ok, I get it. This is sudden and unexpected and I understand completely. I just wanted to let you know before I went off on patrol right now. But if you find yourself free with nothing to do tonight, send me a text and I’ll swing by because I would really like to take you out on a date. Oh, and leave your window open, I’ll just go in through there if that’s ok.”

Your eyes are as wide as saucers, a mixture of giddyness and confusion and every other emotion known to man due to everything that Peter was saying.

You noticed however that some of the things he was saying didn’t exactly make any sense…

“Patrol? W-what? And my..my window? Peter, I live on the 12th floor.”

“It’s okay, I’ve climbed higher,” he states as he retreats back to the door, opening it but turning back to you before heading out.

“Oh, and one more thing?”

He stretches his arm out, a web shooting out as it attaches to the folder you always had near your register.

He pulls the folder towards him and grabs it quickly before any papers fly out.

“I’m a little offended that you didn’t put me on your list of suspects,” he says with a wink, and just like that he’s out the door.

There’s no words to describe how shocked you are. You can’t even move let alone breathe.

Till finally you start to regain feeling in your body again and you’re pretty sure he can still hear you as he’s walking down the block.

“NO FUCKING WAY!!”

He does, in fact, hear you, and he’s chuckling to himself as he turns a corner to switch into his spidey suit.

He can’t wait for tonight.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #spiderman x reader #andrew garfield x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #spiderman imagine #tasm spiderman #tasm peter parker #requests

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nojey · 4 years ago

Text

finally

feral boys x streamer!reader (separate)

genre: fluff, crack

warning(s): none

synopsis: the feral boys finally meet their favorite streamers

dreamwastaken / clay

word count: 407

the day you met dream, you were on the phone with your best friend george, also known as georgenotfound

he was speedrunning on stream while you were on a discord call with him

his viewers knew who you were, not only because you were george’s best friend but also because you were a streamer too

you weren’t a big one but well known for how well you play battle box in mcc

george was about to end his stream after an unsuccessful speed run when he asked you something

“you know dream right?”

“yeah, of course, he’s one of your other best friends” you answered

“are you okay with me adding him to the call?” he asked you.

“uh sure, but aren’t you gonna end stream?”

“no, i will after this.” he giggled

“why? are you trying to embarrass one of us?” you asked him suspiciously.

“you don’t have to worry about that.”

you heard a ding from discord, indicating that someone joined your voice chat

“hello? dream?” george asked.

“george. why? why are you doing this to me?” dream asked.

“hi dream,” you smiled.

“uh, hi. hi (y/n).”

“george why did you add me to the call?” he asked george.

“well, i know how much you like watching their stream. and considering you’re both my best friends, why not introduce you! perfect right? anyways. i’m gonna end my stream now. let’s raid karl. and you two can talk to each other. bye now!” he left the call so now it was just you and dream in the vc

it really warmed your heart that someone with such a big platform liked watching your streams since it had been quite hard to gain a following since you started streaming

“hi dream,” you said once again

he sighed. “hi (y/n).” “i really didn’t want him to do that, i didn’t want this to be the first time we meet, you know. i just love watching your streams so much and i wanted it to, honestly, be in person. but you know, george does what he thinks he shou-”

“it’s okay dream, i’ve actually been looking forward to meeting you, considering you’re also one of george’s best friends. but i do agree, he does tend to do whatever he puts his mind to.”

after you calmed his nerves, his conversation skills skyrocketed and the conversations flowed very easily

you guys spent the rest of the night talking

georgenotfound / george

word count: 326

being a minecraft streamer and a hypebeast got you some recognition

you were a hypebeast model on instagram and when you had announced you started streaming minecraft on twitch you had grown pretty easily

it didn’t take you time before you were invited to join mcc

not just because you had a big following but because you were actually really good at playing

since you didn’t really know any other mc streamers you got placed in a group with people you had never met

their names were Ph1lzA, WilburSoot, and GeorgeNotFound

the first time you talked to them, they welcomed you with open arms and we so nice

“hi (y/s/n)! i’m philza but you can just call me phil,” he introduced.

“hi phil!” you responded.

“i’m wilbur, is this gonna be your first mcc?” wilbur asked.

“yeah, it is. i’m actually really nervous.” you laughed a bit, to get the nerves out.

“ah okay, well no worries. we were all beginners before. don’t worry about trying to score high, just have fun!” phil assured.

“we’re just waiting for one other person and we’ll get started on the practice.” phil continued.

“okie dokie,” you said. you put yourself on mute and wiped the sweat off your hands on your pants.

“hello, hello, sorry i’m late. had trouble starting the server.” you heard.

“well nice of you to join us george.” wilbur said.

“yeah, yeah. hi philza, hi wilbur, hi (y/s/n)- wait, (y/s/n)??” he stuttered

“hi george?,” you said softly.

“oh my god, i’ve watched your streams before, they’re really cool. i enjoy watching them.” he rambled.

you giggled

“well thank you,” you said, still giggling a little.

for the rest of the day you all practiced, everyone giving you pointers, but george watching carefully to make sure you understood the pointers you were getting

and if you didn’t then he knew to tell you which part you were kind of misunderstanding

sapnap

word count: 398

you met sapnap long before you became a streamer

you were a big fan of sapnap

and one day you ran into him in public

it was a short interaction but it really meant a lot to you

so you asked for a picture to remember the moment by

after you took the picture you said your goodbyes and you were extremely excited

a few weeks after than interaction you had made the decision to start streaming

you were thinking about becoming one for a long time and after meeting sapnap you made your decision

because you wanted to be the type of person sapnap was to you

and be a person someone looked up to and meet people that felt the way about you that you feel about sapnap

you’d been a streamer for a few months when you got a raid from sapnap himself

his viewers were suggesting he raided you so he did

you freaked out, you gained a small following and the fact that sapnap decided to raid you? amazed

but what you didn’t know was that he kept watching you

after he saw how appreciative you were he wanted to watch more and he got intrigued

so he followed you and started watching your streams almost every time you streamed whenever he wasn’t busy

after about 2 years of streaming you got a very big following

your supporters were stalking your twitter and found the picture of you and sapnap when you both met

they then began to repost it on twitter tagging the both of you

you saw it and replied, “LMAO i look so small. but big shoutout to sapnap for raiding me as a small streamer and making all this possible <3″

he saw your reply and his eyes went big

HE MET YOU BEFORE!??

he then proceeded to respond to your tweet, “we’ve met before??”

and it went back and forward

“yeah, it was before i was a streamer, we met at like.. the grocery store lol”

“i literally had no idea you were a fan of me”

“yup, i’ve been for the past 3 years”

“dude after i raided you i started watching your streams and you became my favorite streamer”

“well,, you’re still my favorite streamer ;)”

after that sapnap dmd you asking if you guys could meet in person again

and who could pass up that offer

karl jacobs

word count: 510

you and karl met at twitchcon

you had recently become a big streamer and this was your 2nd time going to twitchcon

1st time having a meet and greet

meeting your supporters meant so much to you

you finally get to give each of them a hug, and it may not be all of them but seeing this many people come out to meet you meant more than anyone could imagine

but being at twitchcon also meant you could meet your streamer friends

which made everything 10x more exciting

you decided to meet up with your friend, valkyrae and you guys were going to a creator party

when you finally got to see her you gave her a huge hug that lasted a while because it was the first time you were meeting in person

once you both reached the venue of where the party was being held you all met up with your other friends. you hadn’t met any of them in person but rae had

you saw sykkuno, lily, michael, toast, and a few other people and smiled really big, excited to see all of them

you finally got to them and pulled them into a group hug

“you guys!! oh my god it feels so good to finally meet all of you!” you said.

“it’s nice to meet you in person, (y/n).” sykkuno said smiling at you

you let go of the hug and remembered everyone else that they were with

“hi! i’m (y/s/n) but you can just call me (y/n),” you said with a smile.

“this is karl, poki, and scarra.” toast introduced.

you saw karl and poki whispering to each other while you got into a conversation with everyone else.

poki coughed and said, “hey guys! don’t we have to go to that thing, right? that thing.” hinting at something, looking between you and karl.

you’re pretty sure everyone caught on and they all agreed.

“oh yeah! that thing!”

“yeah, we should probably go!”

“yup, don’t wanna be late to that thing.”

you looked at them with an unimpressed look as they walked away, looking behind their shoulders to see you and karl standing there.

“hi, i’m-i’m karl, i’m sorry about that. i just told poki that you’re like literally my favorite streamer and i guess she wanted us to talk more? i don’t know, but it’s really nice to meet you.” karl said.

you laughed as you quickly understood your friends weird behavior

“yeah, you raided me a few times- thank you for that by the way. it helped me a lot in growing my fanbase and i don’t think i’d be where i am if you hadn’t raided me.” you smiled at him. he beamed and smiled back at you.

“yeah, no, it was no problem. like i said you’re literally my favorite streamer and being able to help you with that is absolutely insane to me.”

for the rest of the party, your friends could see both of you talking the night away

and maybe even dance together

quackity

word count: 428

finding out what to do for stream was kinda hard when pretty much all your friends were busy

but then you got a text from karl, asking if you wanted to play jackbox with him and a few friends

you accepted, knowing you wouldn’t have anything else to stream

in the lobby it would be you, karl, dream, sapnap and a few other people you didn’t know

when it was finally time to play, you started up your stream and introduced what you’d be playing that night

“hey guys, welcome welcome, welcome. today i’m gonna be playing jackbox with karl, dream, sapnap, and a few other of karls friends.”

you joined the vc and immediately heard a lot of boys talking very loudly

you let out a small, “hello?”

somehow everyone heard you and stopped talking

“(y/n)!” karl yelled out.

dream and sapnap let out a “hi, (y/n)” and you said hello back.

“hi everyone, i’m (y/s/n) but you all can call me (y/n)” you introduced yourself.

eveyrone else said hi and introduced themselves

you found out you were playing with quackity, wilbur, tommy, and techno too

during mad verse city karl was going against quackity and his rap went something like this

“you talk so weird, i’m gonna need translator, next time (y/n)’s here they’re gonna be a hater, because your big crush on them i’ll see ya later”

your mouth was wide open while all the boys started teasing quackity

“what the fuck! i don’t have a crush on them!”

quackity ended up losing that one.

after the game and you ended you stream you asked quackity to stay

“hi quackity,” you said, with an energetic voice

“... hey, (y/n)”

“sooo, was what karl said true?” you asked.

“mm not necessarily. it’s not that i have a crush on you. you’re.. just my favorite streamer and you know. this is the first time i’m meeting you and i was telling all of them that i’m nervous because i’ve never talked to you before and i think you’re a great streamer and that you put out really funny content and i didn’t wanna embarrass myself but. karl did that for me.” he rambled

you giggled

“i think that’s really cute. thank you for supporting me. you can dm me on twitter or discord if you ever wanna play sometime.” you told him and left the vc.

you then saw all the boys you were playing with pile into the vc and you could only imagine what they were talking about.

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silversatoru · 4 years ago

Text

play-thing — part one

gojo satoru x getou suguru x f!reader

t/w: nsfw 18+, dark content, drugging, manipulation, noncon/dubcon, oral (f!receiving), nipple play, this story contains very dark themes so please do not read it you’re sensitive to any of these topics

synopsis: suguru and satoru are missing something in their lives, and who better to manipulate than an lonely, impressionable girl who just moved to tokyo from another city. they’re willing to take extreme measures to transform you into their perfectly submissive little play-thing.

wc: 1.9k

suguru and satoru do everything together; live in the same house, work at the same company, even share a closet of the most expensive clothes, but something was missing. they both felt it, the empty space between them, and they were determined to find the perfect piece to fill the gaping hole in their lives.

and you practically fell right into the palm of their hands, in a local grocery store of all places. a pretty little thing with a freshly broken heart who’d just moved here from a neighboring city. no friends, no family nearby, anxious and impressionable and desperately in need of a couple capable men to show her around. it all started with an innocent question: “hey, sorry to bother you guys, but could you tell me where the baking aisle is?”

how you ended up here you still weren't quite sure.

“let us take you on a tour of the city tonight,” satoru had cooed at you.

“there’s a few really nice bars, we could grab some drinks,” suguru added, both their voices smooth and terrifyingly persuasive.

but they seemed nice enough, and you weren't in any position to be picky with making friends right now — after all, you’d have to get accustomed to the city somehow, right?

wear something pretty, satoru had winked at you before you parted ways and continued your shopping, and for some reason you were very inclined to do as he said. they were both intimidatingly attractive and you weren’t exactly sure what their dynamic was yet, but you decided that if you ended up in bed with one of them tonight, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

you’d chosen a short and silky black dress, something elegant but classic that would absolutely catch the eyes of both men. and it did, satoru’s eyes glazing over your body several times before he even bothered to say hello to you. suguru was less obvious, his dark eyes giving you a quick once-over before giving you a warm smile and wrapping his arm around your shoulders as the three of you entered the first bar.

it was small, dimly lit with a few lanterns and packed tight with people. a little too crowded for your level of comfort, so you stuck closely to the sides of suguru and satoru as they led you deeper into the pub. the dark-haired male gestured towards an empty seat at the end of the countertop, the two of them standing on either side of you after you slid into it. satoru spoke with an impressive level of charisma, ordering three of the same drink from the bartender — who he seemed to know quite well.

taking a few sips of the liquor did wonders for you initial anxiety, and the casual conversation with both men was helping you to settle in as well.

so, where are you from?

what made you want to move to tokyo?

what do you do for a living?

you were painfully oblivious to how the conversation stayed entirely centered around you; you still hadn’t learned anything about the two men, but they were learning everything about you.

an hour or so in, a warm dizziness began to swirl around the inside of your head, slowly exacerbating until you felt like you were about to tumble out of your seat. you’d only had a couple drinks, and you normally handled your alcohol fairly well, so why did you feel absolutely sloshed right now?

“guys, i think maybe-” you turned towards your two tour guides and crashed forward into suguru’s chest without warning.

“think you went a little heavy, toru?” he scooped his hands under your plump ass and lifted your unconscious body into his muscularly arms.

“not my fault she has no tolerance,” satoru shrugged, throwing some cash on the counter, “might be easier with her like this anyway”.

“i suppose,” suguru clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “stupid girl, didn’t your parents teach you not to trust strangers so easily?”

the two of them casually made their way out of the bar together, making jokes about how poorly you handle your liquor to anyone who gave them a questionable look — but the bar was so loud and jam-packed with people that they made it out without any incident.

you were slow to come out of your sleepy haze, head nodding up and down as you struggled to maintain consciousness and take in the scenery around you. in a futile attempt to brush some hair out of your face you realized your hands were tightly secured behind your back. panic immediately flooded your system, chest tightening and hot tears brimming at the edges of your eyes.

“just a precaution, angel,” suguru came walking into your hazy vision, a warm smile on his face as he tucked the loose strands of hair behind your ears, “how are you feeling?”

“wha-, whaaat happen- ed?” your words were garbled, your brain barely able to form them.

“don’t worry about it,” satoru appeared next to suguru, “you just drank a little too much, but we’ll take good care of you, won’t we suguru?”

“of course, no need for you to worry about anything anymore,” he gave an affirmative nod.

“i don’t think-” you wracked your brain for any recollection of what had happened tonight, but you found nothing, “i don’t th- think i — understand”.

“you will soon,” satoru flashed a bright smile, but it wasn’t nearly as inviting as the first time you saw it. this time it was eerie, evil, threatening — what exactly was he talking about?

your brain was quickly turning to absolute mush, your vision getting darker and foggier than it already was as you tried to hang on to the sound of their voices.

just relax

we’re gonna make you feel good, you wanna feel good, princess?

you want us to make you feel better?

“mhm,” you gave them a slow nod. you did want them to make you feel better! you felt groggy and confused and nauseas! so of course you said yes! that is what they were asking? right?

you felt the bed shift around you, several hands tracing over your skin and gently pushing you onto your back. you tried to question them, tried to form the words, but your brain was unable to produce a single word or movement at this point.

a hot tongue connected with the side of your neck, lips latched onto the skin and sucking gently on the sensitive area. another mouth was on your inner thigh, sucking a little harder and undoubtedly leaving a small marking. you subconsciously let out a squeaky, shaky breath, the warmth of their tongues eliciting a response in your doped-up body.

goosebumps raked through your body when you felt a pair of slender fingers slip under your dress and brush over the thin material of your panties. it was satoru, his middle and index fingers prodding at your clothed cunt and sending jolts through your legs. meanwhile suguru continued to cover your neck in sloppy kisses, one of his large hands groping at your covered breasts.

your brain had gone numb, from the drugs, the confusion, the terribly intoxicating pleasure. you hated how clueless you were, how useless your body was right now, but what you hated most of all was that you weren’t even trying to fight back. their touch felt good — too good for you to ask them to stop.

it wasn’t long before satoru’s fingers were replaced with his mouth, his tongue running up and down the fold in your panties and absolutely soaking the material with his saliva. he groaned from the taste, getting just as much pleasure from this as you were. he was quick to push the fabric to the side, sliding his tongue against your sticky folds with hunger and urgency. he lapped at your cunt, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue and evoking a series of twitches from your lazy body.

“be gentle with her” suguru’s voice sounded far off in the distance as he mumbled into your chest.

satoru heeded to the other man’s instructions, slowing his pace and going more gentle on your sensitive, puffy clit. suguru found your hardened nipples through your thin dress, rolling them in his fingers and enhancing the already blissful feeling you were getting from satoru’s tongue.

the two of them working together was incomprehensibly euphoric, your stomach coiling into tight knots with each swipe of his tongue. without warning he dove even deeper, his tongue shooting into your cunt while his nose rubbed against your throbbing bundle of nerves. between that and suguru giving your nipples a sudden tug, your body was crashing with waves of pleasure — strangled moans and pitiful whimpers the only sounds that your mouth could produce.

it was a near-holy experience, the feeling of the sedatives pumping through your veins as satoru tongued your pussy and suguru massaged your breasts through your heightened orgasm. you felt like you were floating, the room was spinning, and then everything went dark.

a real shame that you wouldn’t be able to remember any of it by the time you woke up.

bright sunlight pierced through your eyelids the following morning, forcing you awake and causing you to jolt up. you were laying in a large bed that was situated at the back of a rather large room, fitted silk sheets cool under your skin. confused of what happened and where you were, you stood from the bed and made your way to the door, feet patting on the soft carpeted floor.

when you opened the door you entered a long hallway that led to a wide stairway covered in the same fluffy carpeting. two voices were laughing and talking beneath you, and curiosity fueled your motivation to walk down the stairs and into an open-concept kitchen and living room.

satoru and suguru, the two men from yesterday were busy at the stove, pancakes and bacon sizzling away on two cast-iron pans. they wore matching aprons, suguru’s reading chef daddy, and satoru’s reading mr. good-lookin’ is cookin’.

who the fuck were these guys?

“feeling better?” suguru was the first to notice you loitering at the edge of the room.

“yeah, how are you? didn’t picture you to be such a heavy drinker,” satoru laughed, flipping a pancake with grace.

you didn’t remember much, nothing past sitting down at the bar with them. you weren’t much for getting wasted but you were plagued with more stress than usual lately — maybe you really let yourself go last night.

“ah, sorry about that, I don’t even remember what i did, honestly,” you shrugged, “thanks for looking out for me though, where’s my stuff?”

“in a hurry to leave? stay for breakfast,” suguru brushed off your question with a captivating smile, his eyes squinting together in the most adorable way.

“we insist,” satoru chimed in, humming as he continued to focus on the sweet-smelling food.

and so you stayed, which was probably the worst mistake that you’d made in the past twenty-four hours of countless terrible mistakes.

part one | part two

a/n: im on a yandere/dark content kick today i cant help it. anyway if u wanna be tagged when i post part two lemme know :) and if u want some yandere megumi go read @katslutski ‘s tell me

(ily kat <33 so happy to have someone to get into very specific obsessions with)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake.

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful.

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much.

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps.

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok.

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce.

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way.

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

Text

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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