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katsu28 · 8 months ago

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for you i'd wait forever

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary: bradley breaks things off with you before a deployment because he doesn't want you to worry about him (4.2k)

warnings: some swearing, bradley's commitment issues, happy ending i promise!

a/n: okay so from what i gathered from my googling is that tapping out is typically for new military graduates (i think?) but this idea was so cute so pls forgive the inaccuracies i have no idea what i'm doing at all <3 and also pls forgive me for the utter lack of writing since the beginning of the year, these last few months have been brutal (creatively and otherwise) but i am hopefully back!!! xx

Bradley thought he knew the tolls of being in the Navy. It was tough on not only him, but the people in his life. For the most part, he’d always put his career first. His life had always been on a set track, and although there were plenty of setbacks, he forged ahead until he got where he was today.

And then he met you. Fell in love with you. Finally knew what it meant to have someone in his corner who was just his. Who knew him for him only, not as Goose’s kid, or Mav’s protege.

For the first time in his life, he could actually see himself spending the rest of it with you. Marriage, house, kids, grandkids—the whole shebang.

That was his first mistake. The more he thought about what life could look like with you, the more he thought about what your life could look like without him. What would happen if something happened to him and he didn’t make it back from this next mission coming up in a few weeks.

He thought about his mom and how she lost his dad—her husband. The man she thought she’d be spending the rest of her life with.

Bradley’s thoughts grew quite grim after that. Countless what if’s and thinking about every possible outcome and he eventually made up his mind. He had to break up with you.

He didn’t want to. Not by a long shot. You were probably the best thing that ever happened to him in his thirty plus years of life. But deep down, he knew that it was the right thing to do. He was about to leave for six, seven months, with little to no contact with anyone who wasn’t Navy. That would definitely take a toll on your relationship. You’d never been through something like this before, and there really was no way to prepare you for what it would be like.

You would worry about him every single hour of every single day, he knew that for a fact. Bradley barely remembered what it was like when his dad was away because he was so young, but he did remember how worried his mom was all the time.

Looking back, he understood now. He didn’t want that for you. The worry would hold you back from other things you wanted to do in life, things that brought you joy and gave you purpose.

With the mission creeping up on him faster than he would’ve liked, he knew he had to do it sooner rather than later.

That was how Bradley found himself on your doorstep right now, pushing down his guilt by telling himself over and over that breaking up with you was in your best interest. He hadn’t called beforehand to tell you he was coming by, so when you answered the door and beamed brighter than the stars when your eyes landed on him, he almost wanted to chicken out.

“Hi!” You exclaimed, immediately pulling him into a warm hug. His arms closed around you out of instinct, thumb rubbing over the sliver of exposed skin at your waist, nose nudging its way against your neck the way he always did when you embraced him.

He inhaled the scent of the lotion you loved to use, that flowery one that sometimes made him sneeze. You always said you’d buy a different one the next time you went to the store, but you always forgot. He didn’t mind it at all though. A small bout of allergies was nothing compared to the inevitable smattering of apology kisses you pressed to his face when you realized you’d forgotten.

Fuck, this was going to be way harder than he thought.

Your hands made their way up his biceps to cup his cheeks, eyes darting around his face. “What’re you doing here? Oh my god, did we have something planned? I’m so—”

“No.” He gave his head a shake, offering you a smile. “No, we didn’t have anything planned. I just…wanted to see you. To talk to you.”

“Come in, come in, I was just about to start dinner,” You hummed, escaping his embrace with an arm hooked through his to tug him over the threshold. “Trying a new recipe I found the other day, not sure if it’ll turn out good or end up being a shitshow, but—well, you can help me be the judge of that, I guess!”

“Is it okay if we talk first?”

If you were confused, you didn’t show it, just changed direction seamlessly, making your way to the couch instead of the kitchen. You sat down, patting the cushion next to you for him to settle on and he did, rubbing his clammy palms against his thighs.

“Is everything okay?”

Everything was far from okay, he wanted to say. Instead he inhaled a deep breath before his next words.

“I wanted to tell you I’m shipping out in a few weeks.”

Your face fell a little, but you nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. What do we do? Is there anything you can tell me? Like, what’s the best way to get in touch with you, when’s the best time, that kind of stuff? Or is sending letters better? Sorry, I feel like I’m asking a lot of questions. I don’t—I’ve never really done anything like this before, so—”

“I think we should break up.” He blurted.

You hesitated before answering, blinking at him like you’d somehow heard him wrong. “What?”

“It’s hard having someone overseas for a long time, even more so when it’s a partner. It was really hard on my mom, and hard for me having to watch her worry like that for months, and I—I don’t want that for you.” He said quietly, not daring to meet your eyes until he gave his poor excuse for an explanation on why he was doing the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do to you.

The moment he’d realized he’d fallen in love with you, he’d promised himself he would never abandon you, never break your heart or your trust, and here he was, doing that exact thing. It was tearing him apart inside.

“I don’t want you to have to go through all that, so it’s just better if we—that we break up now. Before I go.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry. It’s for the best.”

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice broke just after the last word, swallowed up by a hitched inhale of a breath that had his resolve wavering just the slightest bit. He could barely look you in the eyes the whole time, and now…he didn’t think he could stand the sadness and hurt flooding every single one of your beautiful features.

“All the worrying and the uncertainty of not knowing what’s happening, I don’t—it wouldn’t be fair to you. I care about you too much to put you through all of that.”

You were silent for the longest time, eyes glued to the floor as you processed the information. He thought you were about to start crying with the way your brow creased, but when you finally looked back up at him, your gaze had hardened. “Did these last six months mean nothing to you? You’re just gonna throw everything away because what—you don’t think I can handle it?”

They meant everything to me, he wanted to say. You mean everything to me.

If he was really being honest with himself, it was him who couldn’t handle it. Still, he forged on, thinking it best to just rip off the bandaid. He could live with being the asshole if it meant sparing you from the terrible experience of him being god knows how many miles away for months.

“I’m sorry. I wish you nothing but happiness, Y/N. You deserve better than anything I could ever give you.”

“You wish me nothing but happiness?” You chuckled humorlessly, shaking your head. Bradley’s eyes tracked you across the room as you paced back and forth, guilt ridden expression on full display. All he wanted to do was take all of it back; to kiss you senseless and tell you everything was going to work out, but he couldn’t. He’d burned the bridge, cut the rope. Broke your heart. He felt like the biggest asshole in the world. He probably was. “Screw you, Bradley. I mean it.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was all he could say.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Y/N, I—”

You rushed at him, pushing, shoving, sending him stumbling step by step towards the front door until he almost crashed into it had he not managed to pull it open a split second before you shoved him outside. He’d never forget the look of betrayal in your eyes right before you slammed the door in his face.

Bradley forced his feet to take him back to his car, then to drive away before he could have a chance to even try and make things better. He’d most likely end up making things much, much worse. Though he didn’t think it could get any worse with the way he was feeling about himself right now. You were angry at him, and you had every right to be.

But had he lingered at your door only moments after, he would’ve heard the thump against the wood that was you sliding down to the floor and the sob that escaped your mouth.

All because of him.

-------

Bradley was happy to finally be coming back home after ages away, but then he realized it—he didn’t have anyone to tap him out this time. His mind jumped to you first, but there was no chance in hell you’d be there for him. You’d probably moved on months ago. Forgotten about him. And with Mav away on another deployment, he really had no one.

His chest ached the longer he stood at attention, jaw clenched tighter than he meant it to be as he watched the rest of his squad get tapped out by their loved ones. Coyote’s parents, Fanboy’s sisters, Hangman’s nieces and nephews, Phoenix’s girlfriend. They were all emotional reunions, and Bradley was happy for them, he really was. But it sucked being the one with nobody there for him.

He wasn’t expecting the soft tap on his arm when it came. He thought it was a mistake at first; someone else’s family bumping into him accidentally, so he didn’t move. But when the hand didn’t leave its place wrapped loosely around his bicep, Bradley knew it really was for him. He turned around, squinting against the blinding sunlight to see who’d come for him.

“Hi.” You said softly, hand dropping back down to your side. He couldn’t help but let himself take you in, eyes drinking in every single achingly familiar detail of you until you shifted nervously under his intense gaze. You looked so beautiful he almost felt dizzy, just like he remembered but at the same time somehow even better.

“You came.” He said, disbelieving. He could still hardly believe you were actually here.

“I promised you I would.”

“But that—that was before…everything happened. Why are you—what’re you doing here?” The last thing he wanted to sound like was ungrateful, because he was quite literally the opposite, but his mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that despite him breaking your heart seven months ago, you still remembered what you’d promised him in the very beginning of your relationship.

“What does it mean to tap someone out?” You asked quietly, tracing a finger along the planes of Bradley’s bare chest. Your legs were tangled under the covers, both of you still basking in the aftermath of getting reacquainted with each other again after Bradley had been out of town attending a weeklong training exercise.

His skin was still damp with sweat, but you didn’t mind one bit, too busy exploring the expanse of muscle shifting under his bronzed skin again. “In military terms, I mean.”

He chuckled, hiding a content smile into the hair at the crown of your head. “That’s a weird question.”

“Humor me, Bradshaw.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bradley stroked a rough palm down the smooth skin of your arm, taking a few beats to come up with an answer that would make sense. “Tapping out is a super long standing tradition in pretty much all military units, I think. It comes at the end of a mission, when we’ve come back to base.”

His arm repositioned itself under your head as he scooted closer to the warmth radiating from your body, nose nuzzling deeper against you just so he could engrain the smell of your lingering fruity scented shampoo into his memory forever.

How you still smelled so good even after your…physical activities just before this was beyond him, but he loved it.

“An aviator’s loved ones are usually the ones to do it. Friends, family, those kinds of people. When you tap out your aviator, literally you’re releasing them from formation. But I guess it’s kind of a gesture that means…you’re home.”

Your wandering fingers stilled against his skin, lingering right above his heart. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.”

“Who usually taps you out?”

Bradley remained silent. It was an innocent question, he knew that. He’d told you a little bit about his parents, and you were just curious. Still, it sent a pang of sadness through his chest whenever he thought about what it would’ve been like if they were still around today.

He cleared his throat, sniffing once. “Usually Mav. Or sometimes one of my squad’s family. If no one can, I just gotta wait til everyone else is done.”

“I wanna do it.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna be there next time you come back from a mission. To tap you out.”

“I appreciate it, honey, I do. But you don’t need to.”

“I want to.” You said firmly, pulling away from him to prop yourself up on your elbow and look him in the eye. You looked damn serious too. He raised a quizzical brow. “You said that to tap someone out means to tell them they’re home. I want to be the one to tell you you’re home. Here. With me.”

Bradley opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then snapped shut when no words came out. He really was at a loss for words. No one had ever done that before. Sure, Mav’s offer was always a good one to fall back on, but Bradley had never had someone he cared about as much as he did about you telling him they were going to be there for him.

The next best thing he could think of instead of saying anything at all was to kiss you. So he did.

He pushed himself up towards you, sliding a hand around the nape of your neck and pressing his lips against yours. Not bruisingly hard, but enough to let you know he was all in. The other hand curled around your shoulder, splaying across your back to bring you back in closer to him, until your chests were flush and you could feel his heartbeat thundering under your palm.

He was home. You were his home.

“I told you I’d be here to tap you out, and I meant it.” You said simply, holding his gaze. “I keep my promises, Bradshaw. Even after the way you left things.”

Red hot guilt crept its way through his chest like vines, bringing all the memories of the last time you saw each other right back up to the surface, even after how hard he’d tried to shove them all down. If there was one thing he regretted in life, it was how he left you that night. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself for that one.

“I don’t even know what to say, Y/N, I—”

“Then let me say something.” You blurted, wringing your hands. Bradley nodded instantly, still too dumbfounded to reply. “I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to say to you today for months. I don’t even know if I should.”

“You should.” He encouraged, nodding quickly. He’d always wanted you to be able to speak your mind with him. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear it.”

“Okay. Okay, well first of all, you’re an asshole, Bradley.”

He nodded again. He deserved at least that much. “I am. Absolute asshole, I know.”

“But I never stopped loving you. Even though I was angry and sad and confused as fuck as to why you would do that to me, I still loved you. And eventually, I realized that it wasn’t anything I did wrong. You were scared. Of losing me, of me losing you. So you decided it was your responsibility to pull the ripcord before you crashed and burned.” Bradley winced slightly at the comparison and you grimaced at your own poor choice in words. “I—sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay. You’re right. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You said you didn’t want me to worry while you were gone, well, I did that anyways.” You chuckled, like you were remembering a fond memory instead of the constant state of anxiety you’d been in. “But instead of worrying that the man I love might not make it home, I was terrified that if you didn’t come home, I’d spend my whole life replaying our last conversation in my head. Wondering if there was something I could’ve said or done so you wouldn’t have given up on us so easily.”

“You think that was easy for me? Sweetheart, walking away from you was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in my whole life.”

“Sure seemed pretty easy.” You scoffed lightly, only a tad spiteful. A low blow, you realized, when Bradley stiffened for a split second, but you held steady.

“It wasn’t.” His reply was immediate and firm as could be, but somehow, that didn’t make you feel any better. “You have to understand, breaking things off was the last thing I wanted to do. But I couldn’t—I thought that if I didn’t, you’d wait for me.”

“I would’ve waited, Bradley! I did wait for you! For you, I'd wait forever because I love you, but you didn’t even give me that choice. You made the decision on your own instead of talking to me about it. That was what hurt the most.”

“I’m sorry.” Bradley said quietly, reaching out to take your hand. His fingers laced through yours almost tentatively, feeling so familiar but so foreign at the same time. There was a point in your life where you never thought that concept would apply to Bradley. “I never should’ve left like that, I wish I could take it all back.”

“I think I understand now why you did it. I understand that fear that comes with the experience of losing a loved one like that. But Bradley, you’re not responsible for my feelings. And I don’t care how scared you get, I’m not going anywhere. From now on, we work things out together, no matter what you think is best.”

“From now on? Does that mean…?”

“You’re my home, Bradley Bradshaw.”

Bradley took your face in his hands and he kissed you, long and hard, pouring every ounce of pent up feelings he’d been bottling up for the past seven months into it. Pain, fear, love, hope—all of it. You were never one to believe in such emotion being able to convey itself through a simple physical action, but now you could honestly say you understood it.

Your hands spread across the broadness of his back, fingers pressing into the crisp starch of his uniform like you were afraid of letting him go , even though he was home and everything was okay now. Losing him the first time made you angry. You didn’t even want to imagine possibly losing him a second time.

He drew back, only far enough to press his lips to your forehead, hands still holding you close as could be. “Thank you for coming.”

“I don’t make a habit of breaking my promises.”

“C’mon, I wanna introduce you to the squad.” He said softly, lacing his fingers through yours. The way he all but bounded over to the group of aviators a little ways away was almost boyish, as was the excitement in his voice when he approached them. “Hey everyone, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Bradley announced, sliding a hand around to the small of your back.

Everyone’s eyes turned on you, conversations petering to a gradual stop as they looked between you and Bradley. You shifted nervously, suddenly feeling unsure with all the attention on you, but Bradley’s thumb rubbed along your skin, soothing you just a bit. “This is Y/N. My girlfriend.”

The tall blond reacted the quickest, snapping loudly before aiming a finger in your direction, along with a shiny smile. “Wait, I know you! You’re the one in that photo Rooster keeps tucked in his helmet. Lemme tell you, he looked at that picture every damn day, it was like—”

Bradley let out a very forced laugh, aiming a not-so-subtle daggered glare at the other man. “Okay, Hangman! That’s okay, I really don’t think—”

“You’re a real saint, taking this one back. If I ever pulled the shit he did, my car would’ve been keyed to all hell when I came home.” Hangman chuckled, giving his head a shake.

“Hangman. Shut. Up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you shut up!”

“You’re the only one talking!”

“Alright, alright, you’re both grown men here,” The dark haired woman sighed, turning towards you. “At least, I hope so.”

You chuckled at that, casting a glance over at Bradley to find him already looking back at you, the back and forth with Hangman already long forgotten given the way he was smiling at you, like you were the force that made the world go round. Taking you in under his arm, he dotted a kiss to your hairline as your fingers came up to intertwine with his again, watching you interact with his squad like you’d known them for years.

It was everything he ever wanted. And now that he had it, he’d never be dumb enough to let it go again.

His mind drifted back to his parents’ fate— how they never got to live out their life together. How there was no guarantee about anything when it came to Bradley’s own fate with you.

And sure, it was scary to be so uncertain about the future, but you’d both climb that hill together when the time came. For now, Bradley could let himself be content. This second chance at a life with you wasn’t one he was planning on taking lightly, not by a long shot.

“Let’s get off this damn carrier and hit the town! Drinks at the Hard Deck, last one there buys the first round!” Hangman’s drawling voice drew Bradley out of his thoughts, just in time to let the words sink in.

You, on the other hand, stifled a giggle at the sight of seeing a group of full grown adults scatter as fast as Bradley’s friends did. Watching Hangman nearly shove Coyote to the ground upon seeing their cars were parked next to each other was something you’d never not get a kick out of.

But Bradley, he didn’t seem as worried about it all. In fact, he walked leisurely with your hand firmly in his, swinging both of them between the two of you as you made your way to your own car.

“Aren’t you worried you’ll be the last one there?”

“I’ll buy the round, I don’t care.” He shrugged. “I wanna spend some time with my girl.”

“Your girl.” You hummed, giving his hand a squeeze. “Gotta say, I’ve missed hearing that.”

“I’ve missed saying it. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, honey. Starting with, do you or do you not have a voodoo doll made in my image that you stabbed with pins when I was away because I broke your heart?”

You scoffed, letting out a not so attractive snort. “Bradley, I mean this in the most respectful way possible—what the hell are you talking about? Where would you even get that idea?”

“I—uh, I had a dream about it? A few weeks into deployment.” He admitted sheepishly, cheeks burning red in embarrassment. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. “You don’t, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You replied, giving his chest a firm pat. You didn’t have a voodoo doll of him, of course, but playing along was worth it just to see Bradley squirm.

“Wait, wait, wait, but you didn’t say no.”

“I didn’t.”

“So you do?”

“I didn’t say that either. But if you’re not sure, I’d watch yourself the next couple weeks.”

His brows furrowed in confusion and a bit of fear as he watched you walk away from him with some bounce to your step. “I…really don’t like the sound of that. Hang on, get back here. Explain, please!”

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#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fluff #first fic in forever WHO CHEERED #it's me i cheered #when i tell you it was a relief to know i can still write things #ok shut up kait #ENJOY <3

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fanaticsnail · 10 months ago

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"Thank you"

Word Count: 2,168 Sanji-Pollen "Drabble" Part 2 (Part 1 here)

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist here

Warnings: Pollen!Sanji, MDNI, Sanji has inhaled pollen, Sanji can't relieve himself, Edging, Crying, Whimpering, Begging, rutting, Solo!Sanji, Sanji x Afab!reader. smut, p in v

Minors, this is not meant for you.

Tag List: @vespidphoenix @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @sordidmusings @delectableworm @feral-artistry @writingmysanity - We couldn't just leave him like that now, could we?

As the first of the Straw-Hat crew to return to the vessel, you were unsure as to what following the strange sounds down the lengthy corridor would bring you. Nothing in all of your flirtation-ship with the chef could’ve prepared you for the sight gracing your eyes.

His vision was foggy, jaw slacked and a mixture of sticky saliva sweeping down his chin. The beads of sweat pouring from his temples, dampening his cheeks and gluing his soaked blond hair to his forehead as you witnessed his eyes rolling back into his skull. Growls, cries and whimpers were choking through his throat and coating the air with his desperate screams for aid.

Your eyes widened, following the trail of sweat glistening skin over his torso and down to the chiseled ‘v’ of his blonde happy-trail. Everything was red, hot and desperate. His skin rubbed raw with the clawing fingernails of his dominant hand thrusting his cock within his fist with a violent ferocity. Shock held you stationary in the doorway, your hand dropping the objects you had purchased from within town and thudding against the floor; alerting the poor chef to your presence.

He snapped his gaze to you, his body too weak and desperate to shield his aching cock from your vision. Much to the horror of you both, he continued tugging desperately on his abused shaft and pinching his swollen tip as he was brought to the edge of another orgasm.

“I-I’m so s-sorry,” he managed to stutter out through his thrusting, hot and fresh tears falling freely down his cheeks, “I-I can’t st-stop. It h-hurts t-to stop-p.”

“Sanji, what did you do?” you asked him, hastily bringing yourself into his quarters and closing the door behind you. You hesitated, your brows furrowing and eyes panicking at the sight of your friend in a state of complete vulnerability.

The two of you had something unspoken between you; subtle touches as you brushed past one another in the halls, preferential treatment at meal times, and you always seeking him out and gifting him with tokens from your travels – one of which lay abandoned on the floor beside the door.

“Sanji, what did you do?” you again questioned him, your eyes searching his and attempting to dismiss what he was doing to pleasure himself in front of you. You bit your lip, unable to simply cast aside the lewd noises he was mewling at you, desperately calling your name within his shaky voice.

“I-I can’t,” He sobbed, his cock desperately writhing and twitching within his palm, “I can’t cum!” His desperate cry for help broke something in you, you immediately taking pity on him and running over to sit at his side. The mattress dipped at his torso, you refusing to look below his clavicle and search his gaze for answers.

“Sanji,” you hesitated, your hand halting slightly in its descent towards his glistening forehead.

“T-Touch me, please. Please, love. P-Please touch me,” he begged with you, his eyes shutting tightly as he winced out another cry, “I n-need you. Please, I need you.” You pressed your palm against his forehead, taking in his scorching temperature beneath your palm and wincing at the contact.

“You’re burning up, sweetheart,” you commented, swiping his damp hair away from his forehead and sweeping your palm to collect his cheek, “what can I do? Tell me. I’ll get Chopper-.”

“-NO!” He roared at you, shock springing to your spine at his ferocity. His eyes were open and pupils completely blown with unbridled lust as he managed to wince out, his pace not halting in the slightest as his bicep continued to maintain his bruising rhythm of fisting his veiny cock.

“J-Just-… Just…” he closed his eyes, his breath continuing to stutter. He bit his bottom lip hard, piercing the skin as he attempted to again push himself over the edge of another orgasm to no avail. His body was wrecked with grief, physically shaking. You were unaware of the possibility of someone being struck pale with horror and glow crimson with embarrassment: yet, here lay the poor blonde chef in a puddle of his own sweat, shaking with arousal and frustration.

“Just, what? What can I do? Love, name it,” you cooed down at him. You couldn’t bare to watch another moment of him like this, but truly unaware of how to best aid him in his predicament. Sanji cringed through the pain, gritting his teeth and persevering his unspoken thought.

“Darling,” he called to you, attempting to sit from his reclined position; only to falter back onto his unused elbow as he winced out, “I need you to fuck me.” You were absolutely taken aback by his statement, the seriousness in his eyes and the animalistic tone in his voice. Sanji would flirt with you, sure. You would reciprocate, absolutely. But this was something new entirely.

“-Don’t think about it. Don’t think about me. Just-…nmph-…” he was hit with another wave of lust as the dust in his lungs fuelled his desire further, “-You can picture anyone else. Imagine the most handsome man, or beautiful woman you could concoct. Picture the stupid swordsman, I just-… -f-fuck… Just please, lay with me. Please f-fuck me-.”

You placed both hands either side of his face, pulling his lustful gaze into you and holding his grey eyes fixed on your own.

“Sanji,” you called to him, your voice soft and calm. A whimper fell from his parted lips as you rolled his name over your tongue.

“Y-Yes, my love? Y-Yes?” he asked you, his eyes full of sorrow and defeat. You sighed at his expression, smoothing your hand over his face once again.

“There’s no one else I would dream of doing this for,” you confessed to him, “why would I imagine anyone else?” His actions halted, his body immediately reacting to your words and holding himself completely statuesque. At that momentary pause, his body screamed at him to begin moving once more; a growl releasing itself from within his chest and verbally chastising himself.

“Darling, please. Please,” he begged, thrusting upwards his hips into his hands, “Please ride me. I need you.. -nghh-…, please, I…-hhah-…p-promise I’ll be good. Please.”

You sighed, closing your eyes and feeling the waves of his heated desperation falling off him and coating the room with the perfume of his musky arousal. You stood, facing away from him and removed your pants, pooling them onto the floor to entangle with his bedsheets and pillows he flung carelessly off his bed earlier. Shimmying out of your underwear, you kicked them off to the side, your walls already coated with a shameful amount of arousal at the sight of your desperate friend as he pumped his cock in front of you.

Keeping your eyes closed, you turned around to face him again while bashfully tugging down the length of your shirt to shield your arousal from him. You coyly knelt atop the mattress, avoiding his desperate gaze as he took in every moment of your descent towards him. He continued to fist at his cock at a bruising pace, the heavy slaps falling like punches down his shaft to hit at his groin painfully heavy as he cried out for you one last time.

“I’m s-sorry. I’m…a-aahh-…I’m so, so sorry,” his apologies were flung into the air with a mixture of your name and a variety of creative pet-names. You reached down and collected his unused hand, lacing your fingertips within his slowly and carefully.

“It’s okay, Sanji. If you could just-,” you crawled onto his lap and hovered over his rapidly beating hand tugging his aching cock, “-stop for a moment, and I’ll-…” you reached down and tugged away his hand from gripping his cock in the firm vice-clench of his hand. He whimpered and began gyrating into the air at the absence of stimulation, his tongue darting out to dampen his bottom lip with a fresh coat of saliva.

You placed his hand on your hip and released it from your grasp, reaching down to pull back the skin of his shaft and steady yourself as you made a slow descent to impale yourself atop his throbbing cock. His shiny red tip brushed against your glistening folds, prompting him to let out a feral scream at the contact. Your eyes snapped open, searching his face for any harm or pain, only finding a warm blush dusting his cheeks, his jaw slack and a trail of saliva connecting his upper and lower teeth. You furrowed your brows, hardening in your resolve and sunk the tip of his cock into your core. Another scream erupted from Sanji, his whimpers falling away to become feral growls and ferocious snarls.

“Sanji,” you moaned, the tip beginning to stretch your core as you adjusted to his size. His eyes snapped open as he gazed at your face. Although his vision was blurry and exhaustion was overcoming him from edging his body, he was desperately pleading with himself to be present for this moment. A moment he truly never foresaw ever completing on his own. Although still clad in your t-shirt, your torso hidden from him as you sunk down onto his aching cock, he had never seen something so beautiful. His eyes filled with glassy, fresh tears of relief as you continued slowly coaxing his cock into you.

He unlaced his hand with yours, bringing it to meet the other side of your hip as you descended down onto his cock; fluttering as you adjusted to his size. As you nearly took in his entire length, he mustered all of the strength remaining in his body and sat with you fully sheathed on his lap. His balls were sucked into his stomach with the pressure of his release, the new angle immediately hitting the sensitive underside of your clit with his curved cock with his soft pubic hair tickling against your clit.

In that one swift motion of you taking in his entire length, he was immediately a trembling mess; whining sweet praises at you while physically shaking in his shoulders while desperately clawing at your ass.

He was cumming. Instantly.

Ribbons of his pent up release coating your inner walls with the slickened backsplash of his cum. Twitching, lightly rocking with his entire length disappearing within your walls, he held you so tightly as if you were the only thing tethering him to this world. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder, sobbing onto your shirt with tears dampening the material below his closed eyes.

“I-I’m cumming. I’m cumming. O-Oh f-fuck… -nghhh-… I-I… -hh-hahh-… I’m s-sorry. I-I’m c-cumming,” he cried against you, his shoulders shaking with his sobs.

“It’s okay, shh,” you drew your hands to the back of his hair, soothing over the sweat covered, matted locks, “sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re loved. It’s truly okay.” You pressed a small kiss to his temple while he slowly rocked you within his lap, his cum continuing to shoot up into you and dance with your own glistening arousal. Although you had not experienced a release, you could empathetically feel his satisfaction as he was finally able to climax through whatever seemed to hold him incapable of doing so.

Waves of exhaustion fell from him, his rocking halting as the last few beads spilled over and into your body, your arousal satisfying his unquenchable thirst and smothering the flames of his wild, burning panic. He sighed into you, releasing your hips from his grip and circling his left hand around your hips and hooking his right hand up the middle of your back to cradle you against himself. A small shudder of his shoulders followed by a low rumbly, laugh of relief had you finally able to relax, knowing your chef was finally himself again. You giggled, lacing your arms over his shoulders and whispering down against his temple.

“Are you okay down there?” you giggled as you checked in with him, prompting another laugh to erupt from his parted lips at your question. He slowly moved his forehead away from the crook of your shoulder and neck, placing a small kiss against your neck before looking up at you.

“Hi,” he whispered to you, a coy smile rising to his lips as his eyes finally met yours.

“Hi,” you smiled back in return. He placed his forehead up against your own, brushing your nose with his. His eyes creased upwards, his relief falling over him in waves as you traced circles atop his shoulders. He slowly snuck a glance down at the point where your two bodies connected, noticing his slowly dissipating harness was still buried within you. He sighed out a content breath before seeking your gaze out once more.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?” Sanji huffed a small laugh, “I’ll return the favor, then I’ll cook you something. That sound okay?” You laughed at his suggestion, nodding enthusiastically and placing a small kiss on his forehead.

“Sounds perfect, chef.”

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #sanji x reader #sanji smut #one piece smut #sanji vinsmoke #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #blackleg sanji #sanji x reader smut #op smut

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jensettermandu · 6 months ago

Text

song worthy - jang wonyoung

genre; smut

pairing; show-goer!wonyoung x rockstar!female reader

content; set in the mid 2000s, cigarette use, mentions of wiccans/witches (wony being referred to as a witch at times), still channeling the inner dirt-bag/rockstar core (claiming it <3), rockstar!reader x show-goer!wony. smut; switch wonyoung/reader, cunnilingus (both giving/receiving), fingering (both giving/receiving)

synopsis; wonyoung gets stoped by the frontwoman of the band that's been making a buzz lately and gets offered a deal she can't decline, especially not with the mutual desires that linger in both of their gazes.

wc; 5.4k

masterlist

a/n; this is from a scrapped story, but enjoy!

Y/n’s cold hand dug into the pocket of the black leather jacket before taking out a wrinkled and soft pack of cigarettes. Another sniffle followed, her nose cold as she took one out and put it between her lips, eyes woefully looking at three cigarettes left and no money to buy more.

“So much for being a performer.” She mumbled as the money her band earned was close to nothing. The impulsive decision of dropping school to pursue a band with her friends was biting her in the ass. It felt impossible to do anything right for the forlorn singer who had been negative about her life since the day she was born.

She put the pack back, searched for the zippo, and groaned when she realised that she had thrown it into the van earlier after lighting her previous one. Her friends were already gone after leaving her behind since she couldn’t crash at theirs; the girl having no place to stay the night at.

The streets were half empty, people passing by and minding their business and cars speeding along the road. She held the stick between her glossy lips, looking around, hearing sirens somewhere in the distance, being well aware of how unsafe this area was and it did make her anxious—at the back of her head which she ignored.

The wired headphones blasted Jennifer’s Body by Hole and small stones dragged along the wet concrete behind her. Y/n looked back to see a girl walk out from behind the alley she had come from. Unaware of the frontwoman’s presence since her gaze was on the ground beneath her platforms.

Y/n quickly took the cig out of her mouth. “Hey, hey, wait up!” She called for the stranger, almost stumbling over her duffle bag as she caught onto the girl’s bare arm, stepping over the bag in the process and managing to stay on both feet.

“Are you out of your fucking mind!?” She harshly exclaimed, yanking her arm out of the band member’s grip. Her eyes were hard at the sudden and blenching intrusion that made her back up a step. The girl’s eyebrows raised into a frown as she looked over at the lead singer who was looking back at her.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, but I just need to borrow a lighter–if you have one on you that is.” She quickly spouted out an apology, noticing she scared her. Y/n’s eyes searched for why the girl seemed so familiar.

It clicked for Y/n when she looked over at the inch-taller girl. She had seen her in the crowd the past two shows and she remembered because she had a face and style hard to forget. The girl who had just raised her voice at her came as more than a poser. She was dressed in black fishnets with ripped sheer tights under, a small top, exposing most of her skin and a mini leather skirt with a studded belt.

A silence followed after the apology as the taller girl sighed through her nose with fingers looking through the black Rachel bag. She took out a pink bic and Y/n almost in haste grabbed it as she finally had something to light the cigarette with.

“Thank you,” she muffled out with the cancer stick between plump lips. Her hand came up to cover the side where a gentle yet cold breeze blew at them so the fire wouldn’t blow out. With that she ignited it and inhaled, filling her lungs with the smoke as the tip caught an ember before it turned to ash, burning along the white.

The girl watched the girl she knew as Y/n, the lead singer of the band that just performed.

“Were you at the show?” Y/n questioned her while handing back the lighter, sticking her right hand into the pocket of the leather jacket to keep herself from getting even colder. The taste of the smoke was strong on her tongue, the cheap cigarettes had to suffice as she could not afford any better brands. Not like she had money for a nicotine addiction–not having money for a place to live–but it was too late for consideration.

“Yeah…” She simply confirmed.

Y/n nodded at that and her eyes trailed along the slim figure in front of her and they only stopped on her thighs. She pointed down at her thigh with her head, blowing the smoke to the side while flicking at the cigarette between her fingers. A garter on the girl’s left thigh with a pentacle.

“Are you Wiccan?” She questioned, knowing enough about the pentacle to know that Wiccans who often identified as witches used them although not all witches were Wiccan.

“You’re the first one to ask me if I’m Wiccan and not Satanist…But yes.”

Y/n hummed and looked back up from the garter with the steel pentacle. “They usually use an inverted one.” She pointed out, knowing better than to assume the girl was Satanist as they usually used inverted ones. The two had significantly different meanings to them.

The brunette tilted her head, dark hair falling down her shoulders and over her pale skin that was illuminated by the shitty yellow lights that went along the sidewalk the two girls stood on.

“So…This is where you offer me a cigarette, rockstar.” The girl said, doing a once over at the lanky musician. Their eyes met, both having slept in smudged eyeliner although the proclaimed Wiccan could see the tiredness and bad nights of sleep on the other girl who chuckled and took out the cigarettes.

“What do I get for a cigarette?” She questioned her and the latter raised her eyebrows as she looked at Y/n who tilted the pack and showed the content inside, three sticks pathetically waiting to be smoked.

“Only have three left so it’s a big offer.” The singer added. She usually wouldn’t offer or give anyone cigarettes if she only had two or three left. Especially if she had no money.

“You get the honours of being a kind human being.” She gave the only thing she had to give as she toyed with the lighter in her hold, igniting it and letting go. Her eyes came up and looked at the girl in leather who hummed unsure with smoke coming out of her nose, catching the little shining gem on Y/n’s left nostril.

“What’s your name?” Y/n asked.

“It’s Wonyoung.”

She nodded at that, the lead singer still needed a place to stay the night and the weather was turning colder as it was close to being 2:30 am. She took another quick drag and blew out the smoke before licking her lower lip which tasted of vanilla and tobacco.

“Okay…What would I get for a cigarette and two tickets to the show next Friday, Wony?” She offered Wonyoung.

The tickets were somewhat expensive, around 20 bucks, 10 for entrance to the club and 10 for the band's show. Expensive or not, Y/n saw no reason for Wonyoung to deny because who said no to free tickets? She always carried a few on her as they at times worked like money. Aside from the duffle bag filled with clothes and another pair of shoes, they were her most prized possession at the moment.

The deal was made as Wonyoung’s fingers nimbly reached for a cigarette from the pack as she spoke. “What do you need?” She asked before putting the stick between her plump lips, covering it from the wind and lighting it with the pink bic. Her gaze came back up to Y/n after as the smoke they blew out trailed away from them.

“A place to stay for the night…I have the tickets in my bag.” Y/n pointed to the bag behind her feet while hoping that the newly met stranger would let her crash. In the end, she seemed harmless as she was hot and liked their music if she had shown up to three shows. It wouldn't be Y/n’s first time crashing at a stranger's place.

“My car is parked right there…I live along the boulevard.” Wonyoung said and pointed along the sidewalk where a black sedan stood. That was enough for Y/n to turn around and get the duffle bag.

Wonyoung eyed the lithe girl who turned her back to her. At the moment her confusion was how the whole idea seemed ludicrous because why on earth did the frontwoman need a place to stay? She didn’t ask though because she felt like it wasn’t her business and neither did she judge. In the end, she got two free tickets and the band’s lead singer all in the deal. The new sex symbol among showgoers. There was no need for complaints.

“Let’s get going then.” Y/n sighed, huffing as she slung the heavy bag over her shoulder while ignoring the pain of the strap straining through the leather jacket and against her shoulder.

Wonyoung led the way as they walked beside each other, the heels of their chunky boots dragging along the wet concrete, unconsciously kicking at small pebbles as they approached the car.

She opened the BMW E36, the lights blinking as the locks released and Y/n put the stick between her lips while opening the back seat to put her bag inside while the witch got into the driver’s seat. The doors slammed closed after them and the frontwoman got into the passenger seat in the front as Wonyoung started the car.

“Are you like a fan or something?” Y/n curiously questioned once she was settled, glancing at Wonyoung while slightly rolling down the window to let out the smoke just like the driver's side window was down. It let in the cool breeze and prevented the smoke from lingering longer than needed.

Wonyoung scoffed out a short laugh at the question, the singer rather fixated on her being a fan because she was going to let her stay the night. “Tickets to big bands are too expensive for me and there’s been a buzz about your band…You take what you can.”

Y/n laughed at the reply, eyes crinkling as the grin stayed until it turned to a softer smile. She shook her head and reached into her pocket once more with her free hand, throwing the butt of the cigarette out the window.

The speakers in the car played the album Paranoid by Black Sabbath, the CD case lying on the dashboard with a few other cases. Y/n took out the stolen MP3 from her pocket, not having money to buy a device that expensive she found a different way to get one. With that, she turned off the music and the blasting from the wired headphones stopped as she took them off.

“I can’t deny that you guys have great songs and you, a great voice.” Wonyoung complimented as even if the band was just a try after hearing the buzz about them, they did catch her attention because it was just what she liked. A mix of grunge, alt, heavy metal and punk rock with lyrics sung raw and with emotion.

She ashed the cigarette out the window while looking at the girl who reached into the back seat, blatantly, not minding that she was in a mini skirt and Wonyoung did not mind it either as her eyes beckoned at the exposed skin of her long legs and further, getting a glimpse of the black lace underwear.

Y/n let out a breath, Wonyoung’s eyes went back to the road when she sat back in the seat after shoving her headphones into her duffle bag. The car smelled of cigarettes and sweet vanilla, and there was a faint smell of strawberries as there was an old and aired-out car freshener hanging in the rearview mirror shaped like a strawberry with its colour drained—from how old it was.

The dark-haired girl looked at the driver of the car as she rested her cheek against her fist, elbow resting by the window that let in cool air.

“You have a quite soothing voice,” it was almost like a purr coming from Y/n, complimenting Wonyoung’s voice. It made a smile grace her lips as she glanced at the singer, flicking away her cigarette.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Wonyoung stated although there had already been a silent agreement between the two of them when they first looked at each other and Wonyoung agreed to let Y/n stay the night.

There was no denying the mutual attraction that came from looks to music taste and demeanour.

All Y/n did was shrug while Wonyoung sped through the almost empty street. “You did say you liked my voice and I thought you knew that we would share a bed tonight.” She leered out, pointing out the obvious as neither was going to let this opportunity slip.

There was a hot girl dressed in grunge, driving Y/n to her place.

A hot lead singer was asking to crash at Wonyoung’s place.

Wonyoung sniffled, Y/n’s eyes catching how her pierced nose scrunched up before trailing further down at the nipples protruding through the thin black shirt. Her skin was catching goosebumps from the breeze let in through the windows.

“It would be quite nice to hear a lead singer’s voice under different circumstances.” Wonyoung beckoned, welcoming to the idea the singer in question brought up.

Y/n bit her lower lip and Wonyoung’s eyes landed on her once again, the two constantly glancing at each other. With each glance a heat grew in the cool air of the car, a tension thick enough for a knife not to be able to even cut through it.

The sexual desires grew with lust hazing in the air, growing like a fog in the morning as Planet Caravan started to play. A fixated look as she trailed her eyes up the exposed stomach of the singer. The light pink butterfly navel jewellery with three dangling gems was just one of the things that caught Wonyoung’s attention.

“And to see the hearts.” She added, seeing the two heart shapes protruding through Y/n’s shirt. Y/n looked down at her chest, the two piercings with heart-shaped jewellery outline showing through the small tee.

A sly grin came onto the frontwoman’s lips, tongue poking at her canine as her eyes attended to Wonyoung’s body. “Might make you a fan tonight.” It smugly left her lips and Wonyoung chuckled, turning the car and slowing down as she drove into the neighbourhood with fingers tapping against the wheel.

The two were getting jittery and wanted to make it to the apartment as quickly as possible because their sexual desires and lust would suffocate them both soon enough.

“What if the roles get reversed?” The witch questioned as she parked the car, stating the possibility of the vixen in her passenger seat becoming the fan tonight.

The vixen in question let out a breath, questioning herself if she was in love with the woman who parked the car. It wasn’t love—the two of them were just horny and found each other hot in so many ways.

“Then there’s gonna be trouble.” Y/n gave a heads-up, opening the door just like Wonyoung did as they both got out. Doors slammed closed as the lithe girl opened the backseat and quickly got her stuff.

The door shut and the car got locked, the bag being slung over the almost sore shoulder once again. Y/n’s eyes looked around the empty neighbourhood as everyone seemed to be asleep at around 2:30 am. Her eyes landed on the two-story apartment building with an external staircase that they were heading towards. Everything was a luxury for the singer who did not have a place to call home yet after getting kicked out of every place.

“Do you often let band members stay the night?” Y/n asked, looking up at Wonyoung who walked ahead of her on the stairs, catching a glimpse of her ass covered in sheer tights and fishnets. The shaking of the metal stairs resonated through the empty night, leaving an echo as their heavy boots collided with them.

“I’m no groupie…You were just convincing enough, hot too.” Wonyoung replied over her shoulder as she didn’t bring any band members home. This was the first one as no one in the other bands had stood out like the girl behind her who made the small stage her playground while delivering vocals with emotions and different techniques depending on the song.

It felt almost weird for Wonyoung to hear the singer talk as her voice was contrasting to the one she sang with. She’d sing and vocal fry, but spoke in a tone that made it hard to believe she was the same person. It left her more than intrigued and needy for more.

Y/n smiled at the reply and they reached the second floor and the first door right by the stairs. Wonyoung took out the keys to the door from the small purse she had and inserted the keys into the lethargic keyhole. The door jammed as she twisted the key and bumped it with her shoulder for it to budge open like she always had to open it. With that, she managed to push it open fully and stepped inside, grabbing hold of the wall to remove her boots.

“Where’s the bedroom?” The question left Y/n’s lips the second she stepped inside and closed the door after her. The cursed duffle bag fell to the wooden floor with a loud thud and Y/n somehow managed to pry her heavy boots off her feet, each one falling to the floor with a thud.

The one-bedroom apartment was dark as the brunette hadn’t turned on any of the lights and instead grabbed the arm of the leather jacket. “Right this way, star.” Wonyoung’s tone was torrid as she pulled Y/n after her, walking through the open kitchen and living room. Guiding her the short distance from one door to another that she pushed open.

The bedroom was merely lit up by the lamp posts and other passing lights outside that were gandering through the creaks in the blinds.

Y/n shut the door with her foot and Wonyoung turned around, her eyes murky with lust as she looked at the girl. Her hands clutched onto the lapels of the leather jacket, pulling the frontwoman into her whose lips parted right away when they met Wonyoung’s.

It was almost tacky how sloppy the kiss got as their slick tongues met—the two loved it. The singer's barbell was pulled at and brushed against Wonyoung’s teeth. Slender hands ran to the back of the witch and grabbed hold of her ass under the mini skirt, gripping the warm and soft flesh between fingers that threaded through the sheer tights and fishnets.

Wonyoung pulled her closer, breathless moans falling from both girls as she stepped back, pulling Y/n along while tilting her head, her tongue toying with the hard barbell.

The kiss tasted of vanilla, strawberries, and cigarettes, lip gloss mingling, making Y/n pull back and capture Wonyoung’s lower lip. She sucked on it, tongue dragging along her lips until Wonyoung’s legs hit the bed and Y/n’s hands came up to her small tee. She tugged it over her head, discarding it to the side before shoving Wonyoung to sit on the bed and hastily removing her leather jacket.

The heat coursed their bodies, everything going south as it throbbed with need between their legs. Y/n’s hand threaded into dark waves as she tilted Wonyoung’s head up, capturing the plump strawberry-tasting lips, pushing the girl back until she had her lying down on the bed.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” That gruffly voice came out from the singer, close to the one she would sing with and Wonyoung’s chest heaved as Y/n’s wet lips ran down from her lips. Kissing down to her jaw almost heedlessly with how messy it was, panting hot air against her skin.

“I’ve left your last two shows all wet because of how hot you’re on stage,” Wonyoung admitted, lost in the moment when lips wetly trailed down to her chest. A gasp fell from her lips at the teeth grazing her hard nipples before getting engulfed in Y/n’s warm mouth. It was enough to make her hips buck at the throbbing between her legs, Y/n’s one hand roughly grabbed hold of her skirt, bodies almost flush against each other.

“You sure you’re not a groupie?” Y/n humidly chuckled against Wonyoung’s chest before burying her face in the breasts, nipping and sucking at the ample flesh. Faint and needy moans fell from Wonyoung’s lips as she looked down at the band member with her hand in her hair, pushing Y/n further down.

“Mhm…” Wonyoung breathlessly confirmed and Y/n dropped onto her knees between the girl’s legs on the hard and cold floor. “Never planned on actually fucking you.” Yet here she was, about to fuck with the vixen she only thought of fucking.

She bit her lower lip, hips lifting off the edge of the bed where she was lying when Y/n hooked her fingers under the skirt and every other piece of clothing. The two were too eager to wait around, wanting nothing more than a taste of the Hellmouth they both were entering through for the night.

Y/n yanked at the clothes, hearing something rip in the process as she pulled them off of Wonyoung’s legs before she dropped the tights and skirt onto the floor. The brunette was left naked on the bed. Her pussy dripping with need just from the rough and messy handling by the lead singer who kissed her warm thighs.

Y/n grabbed hold of Wonyoung’s right leg who hooked it over her shoulder before slumping back down onto the bed. Her eyes were on the dark ceiling as her chest heaved before she closed her eyes and drowned in the kisses that were being scattered along her inner thighs.

Y/n pushed Wonyoung’s other leg further apart, her eyes landing on her dripping cunt and her fingers eagerly came up to her puffy pink folds. The girl’s lips parted with a gasp at the cold fingers that ran through her lips, gathering the slickness and spreading it up to her clit. The small nudge on the bundle of nerves was enough to make her let out a vague whine with thighs tensing up.

She coated her fingers in Wonyoung’s slickness, spreading her lips with them as she moved forward and kissed the fleshy mound, feeling how Wonyoung stifled her hips from bucking. The brunette's warmth was becoming a sopping mess, the slickness running down to the sheets as Y/n pulled away with her mouth and wetted her lips. Her eyes fell on the clit she revealed by spreading her open with two fingers.

“Oh–I’m gonna make you fucking dizzy,” she muttered under her breath, lips attaching around the swollen and slick clit—followed by a sharp suckle and flicking of a skilled tongue.

It was enough for Wonyoung to moan, the action being so precipitous that her chest tightened at the gasp she let out, hand flying into the dark hair and fingers tangling in it as her back arched before she slumped back with her other hand clutching onto the sheets.

Y/n savoured the taste on her tongue, massaging the clit with her tongue, Wonyoung continuously let out small whimpers and gasps as her hips rolled into the girl’s face unable to lay still at the pleasure running through every nerve in her body. Her blood running warmer and making her body heat up even more.

Y/n’s fingers dug into the flesh of her thigh that rested over her shoulder and pulled her closer to the throbbing cunt. She moved her other hand away from the thigh she was holding onto to keep Wonyoung from closing her legs and moved it down.

Among the sucking and flicking at her clit, Wonyoung’s stomach tightened in anticipation when she felt two fingers caressing her clenching hole. Y/n brushed her middle finger over it, the wetness letting her easily slip her finger into the warm and tight wetness. Her walls throbbed around her finger as she decided to push in a second one, both fingers getting sucked right in by the girl’s tightness.

“Y/n—” Wonyoung moaned, hand tugging onto her hair, making the latter moan against her heat, working her tongue faster on her clit.

“Fuck.” She breathed, Y/n’s fingers pressing and caressing her g-spot in a way that was making her thighs spasm and the orgasm quickly build up. Her hips pushed more into Y/n’s face, her pussy squelching from how sopping she was, the warmth around the fingers inside her squeezing as her whole body slowly tensed up. The occasional brush of the barbell against her sensitive clit was making her light-headed and whiny.

“Oh fuck—” It hit Wonyoung so quick, her words fading as she let out a harsh gasp, eyebrows furrowing and mouth falling slack as she arched her back, the back of her head pressing into the mattress. Breathless whimpers and whines fell from her lips as her body convulsed at the orgasm that hit her, being enough to make her ascend for a second before falling back down to earth.

Y/n slowed down, pulling out her fingers as she dipped her head to lap everything leaking out of her grasping hole.

Wonyoung heaved for breath as her hot body relaxed with her heart pounding, enjoying the last of the slick muscle cleaning up the mess she was made into. Y/n hummed and pulled away, taking her fingers covered in the latter's juices into her mouth and cleaning them up too.

Her leg came down from the shoulder and Y/n pulled back, grabbing the hem of her tee and pulling it over her head. The small piece of material got thrown to the side before she stood and Wonyoung sat up.

The brunette’s grip was harsh as she grabbed hold of the meagre wrist and pulled the girl onto the bed. Y/n’s back hit the soft mattress as she pushed herself up with her head on one of the pillows. Her eyes barely being able to focus because of how uncomfortable the heat between her legs was as Wonyoung crawled over to her and settled herself between her legs.

Her limber fingers ran along Y/n’s thighs as the witch bit her lower lip, looking at the latter’s chest with two pierced nipples, adorned by heart-shaped jewellery with light pink gems just like the ones in the navel one. Contrasting from the dark grunge clothes she’d dress in.

“I’m gonna have you running back for more…” Wonyoung mumbled, her fingers hooking under the skirt and pulling it down Y/n’s slim and bruised legs, discarding the piece of underwear in the process too.

“What do you need me running back for, Wony?” Y/n questioned as the girl on top leaned down, resting her arm beside Y/n’s head. Bodies pressed into each other, the gems of the piercing rough against Wonyoung’s nipples and she chuckled.

Y/n caught the taller one's lower lip and sucked on it with her hands wrapping around her shoulders. “Free tickets—” She breathed out, kissing down the defined jawline before dipping her head and kissing under it. Her fingers sneakily ran along Y/n’s inner thighs, the wetness smeared and thighs tensing around her body. “And good sex.” She finished while humming when Y/n tugged at her ear with her teeth.

“Better make me feel as good as music does then.” A shaky breath followed Y/n’s words, the puff of air hitting Wonyoung’s ear and making her shiver—her fingers running through the wet folds. Wonyoung’s mouth trailed kisses all over the lead singer’s neck, leaving it wet while her fingers worked to gather the wetness to the bundle of nerves.

Y/n’s hand grabbed hold of the dark hair, pulling the girl back up as their lips met. It was as messy as before, slick tongues pressing as they both tilted their heads to get more of each other. The whimper from Y/n was muffled by the mouth sucking on her tongue when Wonyoung circled her clit with her fingers. Softly she continued to circle it; teasing as the frontwoman’s hips continued to buck in need.

She got what she needed and wanted as Wonyoung dipped her hand, swiftly pushing two of her fingers into the tight hole. She pulled away from Y/n, licking up the string of saliva between their lips as she watched the lead singer let out a whimpering moan that was light at the two fingers that started to move in her.

Wonyoung worked her fingers, flicking her wrist as her palm met the slick and swollen clit, pressing and rubbing. The two long fingers engulfed in the snug pussy rubbed at the soft and spongy g-spot.

Y/n’s grip tightened in Wonyoung’s hair, hips rolling into her hand and the girl between her legs pushed herself up. Her eyes fell between their bodies, the sounds were lewd from the loud and very vocal vocalist and the slickness of her fingers dragging along the warm throbbing walls.

“I’m not sure where you sound better, Y/n.” Wonyoung let out a satisfied hum and bit her lower lip.

“Wony—” Y/n stopped and her chest heaved, the said girl stopping her movement for a split second as the heat on top of the singer disappeared together with the two fingers deep in her.

Wonyoung pushed herself down and got down on her stomach. It was as if her mouth was watering, seemingly deprived of sex and she inserted her fingers back in. “Fuck that’s good.” Y/n hummed, Wonyoung licking up her slit before circling the clit, both of the girls rolling back their eyes—one in pleasure, the other at the addicting taste.

Her head tilted, flicking her tongue as she wrapped her lips around Y/n’s clit, fingers still driving inside the tight hole. Y/n’s back arched, hands tangling in Wonyoung’s hair as her hips moved into the warm mouth, the tongue slick and scalding against her cunt.

“Shit—I’m gonna write a song about your mouth–oh fuck.”

Wonyoung smiled at the words, doing her best to pleasure the lead singer with her mouth and fingers after getting an orgasm that made her feel like she ascended for a second. The slim thighs spasmed around her head and she reached her other hand up, cupping under the supple breast that fit right into her palm. Her fingers, toyed with the piercing and nipple as she worked her tongue harder against the clit between her lips.

She could feel the walls tighten around her fingers, making her press down on the soft wall and continue the movement of her tongue. Fingers pinching and tugging at the hard nipple as Y/n let out whiny and light moans. The mess grew bigger on the sheets with each second, spit and slick covered her chin as her mouth worked sloppily on the girl’s cunt, making it so much more lewd.

Her thighs quivered at the warm tongue dragging and flicking over her clit. It made her head buzz at how deep she could feel Wonyoung’s fingers inside her heat unable to stop how she clenched around them with every movement. The slurping of the girl’s mouth was barely making it to Y/n as her ears grew muffled, not being able to think about anything but how good it felt.

Heat shot through her whole body as her legs tensed up around Wonyoung’s head, the orgasm running through every part of her body as Wonyoung only stopped once she was heaving under her just like she had done. She pulled her fingers out of the pulsating walls and licked everything up before pulling away, clearing her fingers with her tongue too while sitting back on her heels.

“Song worthy?” She questioned with a sly smirk and Y/n hummed, pushing herself up and grabbing hold of Wonyoung’s wrist. “Totally, but this whole night is gonna be song-worthy.” She let the girl know, making her straddle her thigh, the wet heat pressing against the skin of it. Their lips met once again as she gripped Wonyoung’s hips, guiding her to roll them.

masterlist

#ive smut #ive wonyoung #wonyoung smut #wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung #jang wonyoung smut #ive imagines #ive x reader #kpop girl group imagines #kpop gg smut #gg smut #girl group smut #wlw #wonyoung x female reader #ive x female reader #smut #kpop smut

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honeyedmiller · 7 months ago

Text

Clouded | Joel Miller

husband!joel miller x wife!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

warnings: use of marijuana, reader and joel both get high, smut (unprotected piv, two ass slaps, somewhat dirty talk??, brief nipple play, cock warming, joel is touchy), the adlers hate the millers in this one probably, she/her pussy pronouns, a tiny bit of fluff, joel is corny af and makes corny ass jokes (ofc cus what else would he do). let’s pretend that’s joel and not javi in the pic above just for the sake of this horny mess of a fic, cool? cool. no use of y/n.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: idk. this was just pure brainrot what can i say

synopsis: saturdays are meant for errands and chores. joel convinces you otherwise just for once.

Saturday mornings were meant for running errands and cleaning the house. At least, that’s what you and your husband agreed to.

But today was different. Today, it started off with Joel mumbling ‘five more minutes’ into your shoulder, hands roaming around your body to feel your bare flesh beneath his calloused palms.

He eventually made his way down to your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles into you while you ground your ass into his stiff cock.

It was nice. The change of pace was something you were relishing, even if it was short-lived.

You grabbed his hand from underneath the sheets, bringing his middle finger to your mouth to suck on the tip. He groaned when you bit the pad of his finger, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction.

“So needy, Mr. Miller.” You teased, twisting your head so your gaze could lock on his.

His usual honey brown eyes had darkened, pooling with pure lust and desire as his hands gently wrapped around your throat. His thumb and forefinger lifted your jaw up so your lips could easily slot between his, biting your bottom lip as he pulled apart from you.

“What I need is my pretty wife on top ‘a me. Show me how a real cowgirl rides it.” He winks, and you can’t help but laugh at his corny joke.

But still, you oblige. Who were you to say no to being deliciously filled up by your husband’s cock?

You twist out of his grasp and swing a leg over him, straddling his hips. He instinctively grabs onto your waist and slowly guides you down over his erection.

You needed him badly, but you just had to tease him first. Your already-slick cunt settled on top of his cock, and you started to rock your hips slowly to coat his length in your slick.

You both moaned at the contact, Joel closing his eyes as he clenched that familiar muscle in his jaw. His eyes snapped open as he felt you shift your weight above him, watching you lean over to pull something out of your nightstand drawer.

You pulled out the half finished pre-roll you and him had smoked a few nights prior along with the neon green bic lighter stashed to the side. You shoot him a wicked grin before slotting the joint between your lips and flicking the lighter a couple of times before the end of the joint starts to crackle.

You deeply inhale as you stare down at Joel, tossing the lighter onto your nightstand before you grab his length with your hand. You tease yourself with the tip of his cock, a shiver running down your spine as you finally allow yourself to sink down onto him.

Joel plucks the joint from your lips and slots it between his own, groaning at the sensation of your warmth completely enveloping him.

You use both of your hands to grab his thighs behind you to hold yourself upright, smoke escaping your lungs as you let out a strangled moan.

It didn’t matter how many times you two had fucked—the stretch was always something that made you gush every single time.

You gave an experimental roll of your hips, lolling your head back in pure pleasure. Joel’s hand skated up your body and squeezed your breast, toying with your nipple between his forefinger and thumb.

You rolled your head back around so you were looking down at him, and he gently grabbed the back of your neck to coax you down. He used his thumb to open your jaw as he blew smoke into your mouth, gripping your other hip so tight that you felt the imprint of his wedding band into your flesh.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby. My beautiful wife. Can’t believe you’re all mine.” Joel’s voice is soft and sincere, and you lean down to kiss him before taking the joint from him to slot it between your lips once more.

“You’re pretty too, cowboy.” You wink at him and a laugh rumbles from his sturdy chest, slightly shaking you in the process. He gives your ass a light slap, but you moan and roll your hips to the contact.

Joel shoots you a shit-eating smirk before he slaps your ass again, harder this time, and the sting is fucking delicious.

You lowly moan his name as you begin to ride him faster, and his hands easily find home on your hips as you find a steady rhythm.

Nothing but your pants and slick skin slapping on skin reverberates off of your bedroom walls, and you partially think to yourself you should’ve fucking filmed this for later use.

Joel takes the joint from your hands and stubs it out as quickly as he can before his hand rejoins your hip, groaning at how fucking good you feel.

“Jus’ like that baby. So fuckin’ good.”

You whine at his praise, head cloudy with lust and desire as you ride him even faster. Your hips burn and you’re panting hard, feeling that devilish little burn in the depths of your core.

“C’mon baby, I know you’re close. Can feel ya. She’s fuckin’ squeezin’ me so goddamn good.” He continues, and at this point he takes matters into his own hands and starts to fuck up into you.

You cry out in pleasure as you rest your hands on his chest, nails digging little crescent marks into his hot skin.

Your mind was so foggy and all you wanted was for that coil to fucking snap. It was wound up so tight, and Joel’s cock was nudging that perfect spot inside of you. The wiry hairs at the base of his cock added that extra bit of friction, creating the perfect cocktail for a most blissful orgasm.

“Atta girl, there you go baby. I know you wanna fuckin’ come for me.”

And you did. Your body went rigid as your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, legs shaking as you gushed around your husband’s cock.

“Fuckfuckfuck—Joel!” You couldn’t help but scream, not giving a fuck if the neighbors could possibly hear.

Hell, you wanted the whole world to know just how good your husband fucked you.

Your body tingled as he grunted, immediately stilling as he fucked his spend up into you.

You collapsed on top of him, breathing heavy and eyes half-lidded and glossed over in your fucked-out state. You moved to get off of him, but Joel stilled you and wrapped his arms around you, kissing your forehead as he kept you in place.

“Mm mm. Don’ move. This is nice.” He mumbled, kissing your forehead a few more times before you nuzzled your face into his neck, licking his salty skin before giving him a small nibble. You kiss him after, sighing into him as your body felt like it was floating on cloud nine.

“Fuck, what about our errands today?”

“They can be done tomorrow.” He says, eyes closed as he traced patterns onto your back with his fingertips.

“On a Sunday?” You ask, looking up at him. With his eyes still closed, he offered you a lazy grin before giving you a small nod.

“So fuckin’ worth it.”

tags: @nostalxgic @endlessthxxghts @punkshort @ilovepedro @amanitacowboy (this one’s for us lindsey <3)

divider by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #pedro pascal imagines #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagines #pedro pascal #joel miller imagine #husband!joel #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff

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pinkrelish · 2 years ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Casual was much harder rule to abide by when Eddie spent more time with you, as facilitated by his daughter. Dialed back was a flirting style you weren't accustomed to, and proved near-impossible to follow when Eddie's lips were pressed to your ear.✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, slight scent kink, allusion to jerking off, reader wears eddie's jacket, drug/alcohol mention/use, depictions of poverty, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 5/20 [wc: 15.1k]

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

AO3

Chapter 5: You're Gonna Get Me in Trouble

————

The days of the week lost their meaning in the best way. Turning from one to the next like the colors of the leaves. Falling in and out of obscurity. What was a Monday, when Monday felt like Friday? And what was a Friday, when the familiar clicking sound of your bicycle spokes found him on a Saturday?

The days blurred. The edges sharpened. They were long when the sun was short. They were beautiful, and aggressively tender, including the lows, because the lows themselves used to be the highs.

The days swirled into an everlasting seasoned breeze of cherished moments. Too many to fill the memories of those collecting them. Glimpses into a life of pleasantness–of contentedness–if one were to grasp them.

————

Leather. Vanilla cologne. Spicy deodorant and earthy tobacco.

You grabbed the cuffs of your sweater into your fists and worked your arms down the sleeves of Eddie’s jacket before grabbing your bike from the porch, and setting off on your shortcut through the frosty grass.

The farther you journeyed, the more you smelled like him. The more you sounded like him.

In Robin’s driveway, cigarette smoke overwhelmed your nose, but as your skin warmed from exertion, the nuances appeared. The natural musk clinging to the inside lining, and the artificial fragrances on top, now enveloping you. You turned onto the main road leading to the auto shop, and the chains on the sleeve cuff clinked against the broken zipper. Bouncing your tire up onto the sidewalk, the snap tab collar jangled in time with the small rocks you rode over on the way to the front employee door. You dismounted your bike in a fluid motion, and the supple leather made to fit Eddie creaked and groaned as you got out your keys.

The door opposite you in the garage was ajar, meaning he was smoking in the alleyway.

Quietly, you went to the break room, and said your peace. “Boy’s clothes are always better.”

Standing in front of the coat hooks, you slipped your hands into the pockets and pulled out the items for no other reason than to observe them in remembrance, as if you hadn’t inspected them for hours over the weekend. A half-empty pack of Camels crowded with rolling papers. Translucent green BIC lighter. A grocery receipt from two weeks ago with an obscene amount of pasta and marinara listed on it. A peppermint candy wrapper you could now confirm came from the candy dish on your desk intended for customers. And, of course, a tiny blue high heel shoe belonging to a Barbie doll. Because what father wouldn’t have that in their pocket.

Returning the items from whence they came, you fished a strip of paper out of your jeans, and added it to his treasure.

You removed the warmth you’d become accustomed to, and stared at the coat hook. You glanced down the hallway. Listened for Eddie.

Silence pressed in on you.

Intentionally, after spending more time doing this in bed than you cared to admit, you found his scent to be the strongest on the inside of the collar, and brought it to your nose.

Hugging the jacket to your chest, you inhaled deep, and sighed.

Years of the leather being draped around his neck did wonders for your loneliness since moving here. Last night you caved despite the voice in your head telling you it was weird to find comfort in your coworker’s belongings. As you stared into pitch-black attic, laying alone in a borrowed twin size bed with someone else’s parent’s hand-me-down blankets, cold, and without the glow or noise of the city to keep you company, you surrendered, and wrapped yourself in him. It was a split second decision, quickly overwhelmed by a sensation you hadn’t felt in quite some time. And it was an emotion you were more than happy to shove behind the other clutter in your brain, vowing you’d unpack it some other day, totally. Definitely. You’d absolutely process the heady buzz, and delightful sweat breaking out across your skin at the thought of your coworker’s arms giving you this embrace, and being able to press your nose to the crook of his neck to experience his salty taste on your tongue first-hand.

A squeaky truck passed by on the street, breaking you out of your spell.

“Good God, get a hold on yourself,” you begged aloud, and hung up the jacket.

~~~

The coffee machine sputtered liquid energy into the pot, signifying the end of your morning chores. And yet, Eddie had not made his appearance, whether it was wanted or not, depending on if he was hiding around a corner, or doing the thing he did where he stood next to you and looked like he wanted to say something, but never did.

The back door was still ajar. You poked your head out, and he was there, leaning against the wall. The stubby end of his cigarette was pinched between his forefinger and thumb with a trail of smoke coming off of it.

Early sunrays pierced the tree-lined horizon, gilding the silhouette of his nose in brilliant beauty. He heard you step onto the rocks, and rolled his head to the side to watch you stand between him and his car. The sun caught his hair. Glanced off the gentle slope of his cheek. Caused him to squint one of his eyes, and wrench his mouth into a lopsided grimace.

“Good morning,” he was first to say.

“Good morning,” you replied brightly. “You cut your hair.” By the way his face fell, you gathered he assumed no one would notice, but the feathery edge of his bangs curled higher onto his forehead, flaunting the harsher shadows of his confusion. You reassured him, “It looks good.”

He continued to stare at you without an emotion you could decipher.

“Really good?” you added, thinking he was seeking a better compliment.

With a soft smile and averted gaze, he flicked the ash from his cigarette, and admitted, “Sometimes I have problems vocalizing my thoughts before they’re gone, and I forget you can’t hear them if I don’t blurt them out. Luckily, my daughter demonstrated much better manners than I did, and thanked you for her costume, while I–”

“Waved for an obscenely long time, and then made fun of me,” you finished.

On cue, you both made eyes at each other, and looked away.

The sun couldn’t compete with his smile. The birdsong couldn’t compete with your giggle.

“Yeah,” he exhaled in a croaky groan. “I did do that, didn't I?” You shrugged and told him it didn’t bother you. It was just how you teased each other. “Still, thank you for putting in so much effort to make it special for her. She was crazy excited when she saw it. My uncle, too. I–uh, I appreciate you doing that for us more than I let on.”

“I know you do.” While Eddie may not have shared many of the details of his life prior to your arrival in Hawkins, it was evident in his every decision that people were not frequently kind to him, and the simple act of noticing he trimmed his bangs was something he’d think about for days.

“You think my hair looks good?” he asked, circling back to the original topic.

“The bangs, or everything?”

After a beat of consideration, he ventured, “Everything?”

You tilted your head. “Oh, it’s outdated. Messy. Unprofessional and like you just woke up from a 7-year coma. The worst case of bed head I’ve ever seen. More like a bird’s nest after a storm than anything, but yeah, it suits you. Can’t picture you with any other hairstyle, to be honest.” His expression was a mixture of bafflement, yet also flattery. You put emphasis on the latter. “I love it. It’s wild. I think you look good,” followed by, “for a weirdo,” to dodge the implication of calling him attractive.

In the long seconds that ensued, you rocked from foot to foot, waiting for him to say anything. Do anything besides stare at you with a slight smirk. Anything at all to make you feel like your nervous habits weren’t being examined under a microscope.

Cheeks suitably burning from the shyness of saying too much, you tugged your sleeves into your sweaty palms, and pivoted while saying, “Welp, time for me to be anywhere else on Earth but here.”

You swung open the door to the garage and he spoke up.

“You look pretty today.”

Halting your momentum on a dime, you slid your gaze from the floor to him–to his way of pressing his shoulder blades to the brick wall, leaning his full weight into the pose, arms crossed over his chest, cigarette between his lips, eyes set on you with an irresistible amount of tenderness to them.

You said, “Thank you, handsome,” and left the door open behind you.

But before you walked inside, before you blinked away, you watched that tenderness widen to excitement. You saw the soft curve of his mouth stretch to a smile. Heard him expel his breath in a single stunned laugh. And you listened to his voice fade as he turned his face up to the sky, and took the final drag on his cigarette with a smug mumble of, “Knew it.”

————

The next morning you stared at the full coffee pot suspiciously. The countertop was wiped clean and the powder creamer container was replaced, alongside the sugar packets being restocked.

Still wearing your backpack, you slipped off one strap, swung it around to unzip the top, and put away your lunch in the fridge. While bent over, you surveyed the room again, and narrowed your eyes at the shiny glass pot filled with dark brown coffee.

A certain someone was feeling generous today, helping you out with your morning chores, and that certain someone was currently sneaking behind your desk.

Pretending to mull over who could do such a courteous thing for you, you ran your finger over the packets. Neatened the coffee stirrers. Hummed a pleasing tune as you left the room with heavy steps. Stomp, stomp, stomp, all the way to the end of the hallway, meandering just before you would turn to sit at your desk.

“Raaah!” Eddie jumped from behind the wall–hunched over, hands clawed at you, face etched with utter deviousness, grinning broadly to bare his teeth.

You took the coffee stirrer and thwacked him on the forehead before sidestepping to your chair.

His wickedness withered away. “Hey,” he complained, rubbing the sore spot. “How did you–?”

“Your reflection, dork.”

He clicked his tongue and peered down the hall at the full coffee pot and microwave door, both giving away his movements. “Damnit.”

————

Lunches together became the norm.

Even after Carl and Kevin left the room to ruminate over the real clunker of a car that came in yesterday, you and Eddie remained crowded together on one side of the round table, eating.

You swiped the crumbs from your sandwich into your container. “How’s Adrie’s sleep been? I thought the whole ‘regression’ thing was just for babies.”

Eddie spoke with his mouth full of half-chewed spaghetti, gesturing with his fork, “Usually, yeah. It’s more like she has nightmares ‘nd stuff. Scared of the dark. Monsters under the bed. That sorta thing.” He hadn’t even swallowed before dipping his garlic toast in the marinara sauce and taking a bite. “It’s gotten better, though. I think only one nightmare these past two weeks.”

It happened last Wednesday. You remembered. After your boss and the other guys went home, Eddie fell asleep at the table, and you turned off the lights for him, letting him rest after taking his work jacket off the hook and placing it over his shoulders. He always pretends to not be awake when you do that, but you could tell from his breathing when he was awake and when he wasn’t.

“That’s good,” you said. “I had a talk with her on Halloween about how the dark wasn’t so scary; how she was a bat and bats love the dark, and I’m a mouse, we’re nocturnal, nighttime is just like daytime and there’s nothing to be afraid of, yada yada..” You trailed off upon seeing the faint shadow of his dimple flourish. “What?”

“That’s a genius move,” he said, impressed. “You sure you’re not a parent?”

You wanted to continue the conversation, you really did, but..

Sighing, you closed your eyes. “Eddie, you have sauce–just–all over your mouth.”

“–Shit, sorry.” Intent on rushing to the stack of napkins near the sink, he didn’t notice how close you were, and stumbled into your chair when standing up.

He caught himself on you. His hands were heavy on your shoulders as he regained his balance. Landing there on accident, yet it felt on purpose when they remained a moment longer, benefitting from your innate response to clasp your hands over his wrists and ask if he were all right, looking up at him with wide eyes of concern and your cheek pressed to his forearm.

He cursed another apology from above your head, and withdrew his grip–but only after you let go, too.

————

“Oh, Adrie, I found that shoe you were.. looking.. for?”

It was the weekend before Eddie managed to wear his leather jacket. He reached into the pocket after coming inside from smoking on the makeshift porch attached to the front of his uncle’s trailer, and uncurled his fingers.

The blue high heel rolled across his palm along with a folded piece of paper.

Jutting his bottom lip in confusion, he gave his daughter the shoe, and as she galloped to her room to play with her dolls, he opened the note.

sorry i stole your jacket

come to me for a prize when you find this :)

if you find this

So that’s why you gave him that weird expectant look every morning..

————

Facing you on the other side of your desk after a customer left the lobby with their receipt, Eddie held up the note pinched between his index and middle fingers. “What’s my prize?”

Elated, your eyes lit up at the sight, and you motioned for him to give it to you while you held the phone to your ear with your shoulder, and continued your conversation with the auto parts dealer. “So–Yeah, three of those,” you went on, making a note with your pencil on where you left off in the catalog. “Yes, the smaller size, please.” You wrote something on the back of the paper and gave it to him.

Eddie snatched it–darting his eyes over your handwriting–and his excitement melted.

you finally cleaned out your pockets

your prize is a job well done ♡

“That’s not a prize,” he said, face falling into a pouty glare.

Unamused by his inability to keep his mouth shut when you were clearly busy, you turned your hand over as if to ask ‘what did you expect?’ and directed a question at the man over the phone.

Not one to be ignored, Eddie began searching through the candy dish for a treasure to appease his appetite for a reward, and spilled peppermints over the side as he dug to the bottom.

You made a shushing gesture at him, widening your eyes at the crinkling wrappers interrupting you. “You’re out of those? Okay, then, I’ll move on to the door handle replacement. Let me just find the model number,” you spoke evenly into the receiver.

Eddie grunted, not finding what he was looking for.

You snapped your fingers at him, and pressed the phone to your chest to muffle yourself, “Do you not have a job or something?”

He held up a pink Now and Later, and asked in a stage-whisper, “Where’s all the butterscotch candy?”

“Bu–What?” you balked. “You ate them all? Those are for customers, Eddie! Yes, I’m still here,” you rattled off a make and model for the car. Eddie’s eyebrows rose at the quick switch from your speaking voice, to your cloyingly sweet customer service nasally octave, and back down to your annoyed tone at him. “Stop eating candy not meant for you and get back to work. You’re distracting me, you absolute nuisance.”

“Can you buy more butterscotch ones? Those are my favorite.”

“Sure, gramps, I’ll get right on it.”

Undeterred, or perhaps spurred on by earning your attention, he flattened his stomach to the ledge, and leaned over, invading your space to grab a stack of Post-it notes from the far end of your desk. Your Post-It notes. Your Post-It notes in his scuffed up, greasy hands, and his wavy hair sweeping from over his shoulders to block you from reading the lines of numbers and letters you were about to recite.

“What’re you..” You gave up when he grabbed your favorite pen.

You slid the catalog into your lap and turned away from him, facing the wall as you ordered the rest of the parts you needed, ending the call with an unintentional chat about the mild autumn weather–two minutes tops–and spun around to no one. Eddie had gone out to the garage. But not before sticking a note right smack dab in the middle of your desk where you couldn’t ignore it.

BUY MORE BUTTERSCOTCH

-EM

His initials. It was silly, but two months into knowing him, and you’d never heard his last name. It wasn’t said aloud by him, his friends, or the other mechanics. Maybe you’d remember to ask him what it is one day.

————

Eddie had one rule–no reading over his shoulder when he was writing in his black notebook.

“Oh, chill,” you scolded him. “I’m here to microwave my lunch, not read your diary.”

Mr. Moore was out of office and the photocopier was broken, meaning you had to bike to the drug store and use theirs, missing your lunch break. With Eddie being the only mechanic in today, and having no customers, he made himself at home over the hour you were gone to catch up on.. whatever it was he was catching up on.

He slammed the thin red book shut and flipped it over. And when he thought that wasn’t good enough, he smashed the looseleaf papers back into his binder, closed it, and scrambled for his notebook, tearing through it like a wild animal until he found a blank page. Quick–He spun in his chair and laced his fingers in his lap, donning a weak smile. About as composed as a floundering fish.

A pink flush crept up his neck, and his heavy breathing caused his unbuttoned coveralls to open wider over his chest, showing more than a glimpse at his black shirt underneath, stretched taut across his pecs.

His pencil dropped to the floor.

“Uh, hey. Didn’t hear you walk in.”

“Yeah, that much was obvious,” you snorted.

“What took you so long? I thought it’d be, like, 15 minutes tops. You could’ve read the manual and fixed our own copier by now.”

You popped open the lid to your container, and placed it in the microwave. “I’d rather jump off a bridge than sit there and read instructions. Anyway, I took a detour to see an apart–”

“Actually, that’s a good question. Would you jump off a bridge if someone asked, with your policy and all?”

“I’m not dignifying that with a response.” You punched two minutes on the timer. “As I was saying–Do you know that motel that closed down on Cypress? Bobbie told me it was a little mom-and-pop place that struggled to compete with the Motel 6.”

Perplexed as to where this was going, he squinted, and answered with a tepid, “Yeah?”

“Well,” you explained, “apparently someone bought the building and has been renovating them into apartments. I guess it wasn’t in too bad of a shape, with them just knocking down a few walls to make them into two bedrooms, and stuff. Bigger kitchens, whatever.” His features softened. The fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes lessened, and the tenseness in his jaw weakened. “Bobbie met the guy who’s renovating them and, uh, they’re gonna be available sometime at the beginning of next year, and the projected rent isn’t that bad. Really manageable for the both of us. As long as her dad is getting better, we could be moving out soon. It’d be nice to not live in their attic anymore, y’know.” You ended it almost on a lilt, as if it were a question, but maybe you were just goading him into saying what was on his mind, because with the way he was looking at you, you had no idea what had him so captivated.

“I–Yeah, I know the place you’re talking about. It’s just a few minutes from here.” And he added helpfully, “It’d be a shorter commute to work.”

“Yeah!” you exhaled, nodding in agreement. “Shorter commute.”

“Yeah,” he said again, allowing the information to wash over you both in different ways. “Closer to the grocery store, too.”

“Yeah. Yeah, and the laundromat.”

Eddie raised his brows. “Oh, nice. I use that place when our washing machine is broken.”

By some miracle you kept your mouth shut, saving yourselves the trouble of listing more establishments you’d be near when you moved. He must’ve realized the awkwardness as well, because he fidgeted with his fingers sheepishly.

“So, does that mean you’re staying in Hawkins?”

Hearing him take interest in your future kicked up your heart rate. It could be coming from a place of blunt curiosity, or conversational politeness, but like hell if your adrenaline didn’t surge from the unmistakable way he leaned in, hanging onto your every word, as the warm hum of the microwave served as background music to the glimmer of eagerness in his eyes.

Downplaying your excitement, you told him one eensy-weensy tiny caveat about your situation, “I am, but Robin’s moving in with Vickie at some point–don’t know when, but probably by the end of summer when she goes back to Indianapolis.. so.”

“And after that?”

“Dunno. I can float rent and bills by myself for a few months, but I’m not sure after that. Could tag along with them to the city, or stay here and, y’know, keep answering phones and annoying my favorite mechanic like I do now. Maybe even find someone willing to go on another date with me, since my first one was a bust.” He didn’t laugh. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll end up back in New York and audition for Cats.” You threw it out there as an outlandish possibility without serious consideration, and you thought you conveyed that through your jokey tone.

The microwave beeped.

You turned around, missing the way Eddie averted his gaze down and away before speaking.

“Just waiting for the next big thing to catch your eye and sweep you away, huh?”

“Not the first time you said that,” you commented teasingly, thinking you were still playing with each other. You grabbed your steaming rice and stirred it with a fork from the cutlery drawer. “What’s wrong? Afraid of not having a pretty girl sit across from you at lunch every day? Scared some other mechanic’s gonna need a receptionist, and then I’ll be gone? Or are you worried you’ll actually miss me if I leave?”

You giggled at your melodramatic phrasing and waited for him to respond. And when he didn’t, you looked over at him.

His shoulders rose and fell with his steady breaths as he thumbed through his notebook, mouth in a flat line.

Confusion stung embarrassment to your cheeks. Holding the hot tupperware, you asked, “Are we not eating together?”

He opened the binder and shifted closer to the table, scraping the chair legs across the tile, signifying the end of the conversation. Worse, still, he spoke in what would be a casual tone, if it weren’t for his rejective back facing you. “Actually, I’m trying to finish this,” he said, putting his pencil to the page and continuing the sentence where he left off.

“Oh.. Okay.”

You walked out the room and sat at your desk. Alone. Glaring at the stupid grains of rice and moving them around with your stupid fork and slouching over to rest your stupid cheek on your stupid fist.

Were you really less interesting than whatever he was writing in that notebook of his?

“Maybe I will find a bridge to jump off of,” you concluded, deciding you’d clock out on time in order to preserve your dignity. At least Robin would be home, and she would be honored to hang out with you.

————

An apology of sorts waited for you on your desk the next morning.

Three fresh-picked flowers in a chipped vase with a torn square of lined paper beside it.

YOURE RIGHT

I WOULD MISS

EATING WITH YOU

IM SORRY

-EM

The bud vase was from his home, the paper from his spiral bound notebook, and the dew-coated flowers from Hawkin’s soil–the last of their kind before the season put them to sleep.

Eddie wouldn’t be coming in today; he had the day off to take Adrie to the dentist. So, he woke up early to leave this peace offering when he could be sleeping in.

You set your elbows on you desk, and laced your fingers to rest your chin atop them, taking in the finer details of the periwinkle blue asters. After a moment, you traced your knuckle along your grin, and nibbled at the skin.

“So silly.”

————

And the morning after that, Eddie strayed from his bee line for coffee to approach you with a familiar meek posture; head lowered in deference, and a pouty expression of remorse on his lips.

The glass candy dish shined like a chest of golden coins awaiting him.

He folded his forearms on the ledge, and picked one of the butterscotch candies on top, pulling either end of the wrapper to unfurl it until the lustrous surface of the sweet flashed under the lobby’s lights.

You sank into your chair and watched him sweep his gaze across your desk in search of the flowers, and after not seeing them, he popped the candy in his mouth, and mumbled, “Does this mean you forgive me?”

Flitting your focus back and forth between his big eyes, you peered into each one, drawing out the moment by clicking your pen in thought, forcing him to sweat and fiddle with his wrapper in the echoey room. “Hmm..” You crossed your legs and shined your fingernails on your shirt, inspecting them.

His mouth twitched into a slight smile, favoring the side with his dimple.

Tipping his head so he was looking at you from under his lashes, he begged, “Come on, haven’t I groveled enough for you to have lunch with me later?” Bravery swelled his chest, jerked his chin in a smug nod once he had your attention. “Got you flowers and everything.”

You locked eyes with him for one, entire, sweet second, in which he winked at you.

Interestingly enough, you remembered you had paperwork to grab from Mr. Moore’s office, and rushed out sloppy sentences as you went, laying the sarcasm on thick to disguise the hitch in your throat, “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll have lunch with you if it’s that important to your livelihood, since you can’t live without me, or whatever.” You closed the office door behind you.

God, your face had never burned so hot.

~~~

And it was that night, when Eddie was alone with himself, he thought of the morning smiles through the glass window, and the afternoon laughs shared at the lunch table. The way you sat next to him and he moved his feet outward, spreading his legs to occupy as much space as possible. And he thought about how you accommodated him. Nudging his knee at first to test the waters, and when he responded by closing the distance between your shoe and his, you leaned towards him at the height of the story you were telling, and the length of your thigh pressed against him in a satisfying squish. He wasn’t entirely sure it was on purpose, but with the state he was in, it mattered not.

Eddie fluttered his eyes closed from blinking lazily at the shower head, stroking away the fleeting guilt of wondering if he should be testing his boundaries by thinking about you while doing this, even as his lips parted with silence, and his stomach tensed from pleasure.

Even as he held his shaky breath to keep himself mute, and his hand moved with renewed swiftness from his release mixing with his spit, and he watched the mess gather in his palm before washing it down the drain, he convinced himself.

This was so casual.

————

Saturday you went to the grocery store–AKA, hell day in hell land. You only needed a few ingredients, and figured getting out of the house for a while was better than calling Robin and asking her to pick them up for you.

However, life mocked you. After a heart-racing encounter with a truck narrowly missing you on the highway, you slowed to an agonizing stop every few feet from people blockading the aisles, taking their sweet time to decide what type of oil they wanted, when you could’ve snatched the one you needed, and moved on if they–would–just–move–a–freakin’–inch.

Least to say, by the time you made it to the baking aisle, you were mentally over it, and yet..

The cocoa powder was on the top shelf, taunting you by sight, just out of reach.

You huffed.

Rising onto your tiptoes, you employed your entire wingspan into clawing for it–tasting victory with your fingertips–but not enough to grasp the slippery plastic.

And of course no one else on the aisle was taller than you. They were hunched over walking canes, and clutching their layers of cardigans over their chests.

And of course, as you were stepping onto the bottom shelf for leverage, and becoming intimate with the bags of flour you inadvertently shoved your face into, your worst nightmare loomed behind you.

You knew it was Eddie before he spoke. You knew his gait, his smell, the sound of his laugh when he kept it in his chest. You knew his radiating warmth, his soft grunt, the way he took a sharper breath and held it for a beat before releasing it as a teasing remark. You knew the magnitude of his presence even when he was being demure. How respectful he was to invite himself into your personal space without crossing a line, squeezing his firm hand on the meat of your shoulder to let you know he was there, and heeding a modest gap between your bodies as his unbuttoned shirt brushed your sides.

He backed away half a step, and waited until you were turned around in the crowded space of him and the metal shelves to wave the tub above your head. The rings decorating his fingers glinted as he boasted, “Shucks, looks like it’s the last one too.”

You held your palm up and dropped your head to the side. “Are you gonna make me jump for it like Adrie, or are you gonna be a grown up and give it to me?”

“Give it to you? Maybe I need” –He read the label– “Cocoa powder.”

“You so do not.”

“You don’t know that,” he replied, lifting his chin at your bored expression. “If you want it..” He shifted his stance and sank into his hip, curling his bottom lip over his smirk as he peered down at you, prolonging your misery instead of just finishing his sentence. “..You can use the magic words.”

What an infuriating immovable object. Blocking everything in your view that wasn’t his red flannel thrown over a wrinkled white tee, and his rebellious hair eclipsing the fluorescent lights.

Just the worst person to rescue you from your predicament. Standing so close you could scrutinize the permanent five-o-clock shadow on his upper lip, and the wispy curls composing his sideburns.

So annoying how his hair reached the shadow of his clavicle, where a chain link necklace showed beneath his shirt, and the tendons in his neck stretched an alluring contour from the hollow of his throat to the underside of his square jaw.

His shoulders shook with a quelled snicker. “Come on,” he sang with an infuriating timbre, swaying the cocoa above you.

You met his steeped tea eyes, and insisted in a warm honey tone, “Please stop being a dickhead, and thank you for not being an asshole and handing over the cocoa.. Fucker.”

Eddie’s face cracked into the biggest grin. Beside you, a blushing grandmother shot you a scathing glare, and grabbed a bag of sugar from the shelf before tsking and walking off.

Bestowing you the tub in your hand, he wrapped his palm over top of it and didn’t let go as he bent to you. “Hey now,” he said in a lower register, voice cracking on the consonants from the remnants of his laugh, “no bad words in front of my kid. Or the elderly. Show some respect.”

You perked up. All transgressions in regards to baking ingredients were forgotten when you spotted his daughter sitting cross legged inside the shopping cart behind him. “Adrie!” You pushed Eddie out of the way, and wrapped her in a tender, heartwarming hug.

“Miss Mouse!” she cheered in equal enthusiasm, dropping the box of cereal she was reading aloud to lock her arms around your neck.

You giggled at the giddy feeling soaring in your chest, and encouraged her, “Yeah, I’m Miss Mouse.” The clunky braids Eddie put in her hair smashed against your cheek as you held each other tighter.

Taking inventory of the sparse groceries she was amongst, you spotted a pattern. “You like pasta, huh?” It was an easy guess considering there were three bags of noodles with two large jars of sauce standing out from the rice dinners and a few cans of soup. Practically a replica of the receipt you found in his pocket. But she corrected you.

“No. Daddy’s just bad at cooking.”

Your eyes bulged, and you pursed your lips to refrain from bursting out in impolite laughter. Standing up straight, you combed a few stray curls behind her ear, and whispered, “Geez, kids are ruthless.”

Eddie shifted his weight to his other foot, and gestured at the groceries with a pencil before striking out something on the short list he had written one on a pad of paper. “Eh, Wayne’s the chef of the family. She knows what she’s getting when it’s my turn to cook.”

You hummed at the new information, and went to pick your hand basket off the floor when something caught your eye–and it definitely wasn’t the leather loafers on the old man shuffling past you.

Eddie, obviously, wasn’t dressed in coveralls.

His black tennis shoes were nearly identical to the white ones he wore on Halloween, with the floppy tongues out against his light-wash blue jeans. (Very, very nice fitted jeans with holes in the knees, and a rip stretching wider across the curve of his thigh.) Dragging your gaze up, you clocked the interesting belt buckle he wore on your way to admire the soft outline of his stomach pressed against his shirt. He moved his flannel aside to stuff his shopping list in his pocket–struggling due to how tight his pants were–and incidentally showed off a smidgen of skin above the waistband of his plaid boxers.

Just a hint of skin marked with the bottom lines of a larger tattoo and you were salivating–

A loud intercom announcement sang a jingle about tortillas, and you were reminded of where you were, and where Eddie was, a few feet away from you, well aware of the places your gaze stalled before landing on his smirk.

He caught you checking him out.

Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Find everything you were looking for?”

“I, uh–” you stuttered two words out before your brain threatened you to shut the fuck up. As an alternative, you snapped into finger guns aimed in the opposite direction, and made up an excuse. “I forgot to get.. something.”

“Forgot what?”

You blinked. “Milk.”

“Milk, huh?”

“Yep.. Milk.” Sweating under the heat of his narrowed eyes, you made yourself scarce. “Welp. Hope to never see you outside of work again, because this was we-ird,” you enunciated in lilt as you strutted away. But just as you were about to disappear around the corner, you stopped, and said, “Adrie, however, I’d love to see you any day of the week.”

She turned in the shopping cart and waved. “Bye, Miss Mouse.” Eddie was too busy watching you make a fool of yourself to correct her, letting the nickname stick.

Rounding the end cap display of premature Christmas themed candies and bakeware, you held your gaze steadfast ahead as you passed by someone not-so-inconspicuously trying to blend in with the background, wearing a red managerial vest, and holding a clipboard over their mouth.

Robin lowered the employee break schedule, and whispered rather loudly, “He’s so in love with you.”

You groaned. “Can you not spy on us?”

She sweetened you up, “Seriously, he was totally checking you out when you bent over.”

You turned down an aisle and felt her hot on your heels. Yielding in front of the boxes of chamomile tea, you examined one, and asked with an air of disinterest as if you were inquiring about the weather, “Was he now?”

Screwing her face up, she nodded empathically, “Majorly.”

“Good, because I want to crawl in a hole and die.”

~~~

Six feet under seemed like a better fate than what you were dealt.

Though you gave it your best effort, meandering about until enough time had elapsed that you figured he’d left by now, you made your way to the front of the store, and stopped. Eddie had the end of his cart angled towards the registers. Adrie held a package of cookies out for him to approve of, and in a depressing moment of realization, you watched him revert to the person you met him as.

The playfulness was gone. His face was cast with the exhaustion of being around strangers for too long. His lips were bitten raw. His chest sank with a long exhale, and his stomach caved as he looked at his daughter asking for something the other parents around him could throw in their cart without a second thought, and he had to disappoint her.

He didn’t say ‘no’ exactly, but the nervousness of doing so was there. “They’re not on the list,” he begged her in a defeated whisper to understand and not make a scene. He couldn’t handle a scene.

Not yet five-years-old and she sensed his stress and put them back.

“Hey, cutie.” You didn’t know you spoke until Eddie jerked his head up, and you witnessed the change in his mood wash over him. Turned on a dime. He grinned at you in genuine relief, and in a bout of awkwardness, you smiled at Adrie in particular to imply your initial greeting was for her. Not that he wasn’t cute, too. “Fancy meeting you two here.”

He pushed his cart forward, taking the next spot in line, and peered into your hand basket, assessing the Reese’s Pieces, baking goods, tea, and distinct lack of one item. “Hmm, got lost on your way to the milk, huh? Or did you need someone to reach it for you?” He placed his gallon of milk on the conveyor belt first for emphasis. You rolled your eyes.

The two of you must’ve appeared cozier than you gave off, because the cashier motioned at you–specifically, he pointed from Eddie’s groceries to yours. “You two together?”

Eddie froze. Just a useless doe-eyed deer in headlights. You, on the other hand, swallowed your spit before you choked on it, and realized what he meant.

“No, no, separate,” you answered, taking a plastic divider from him and putting it after Eddie’s bag of red delicious apples and before Robin’s dad’s tea.

You stifled your giggle as your beloved coworker fumbled into action after the exchange dawned on him. Bouncing between bagging his groceries, finding the cereal box for Adrie so she could finish tracing the maze on the back, and wiggling his wallet out of his back pocket. The chain attached to it clinked as he rifled through the papers in the biggest slot. They didn’t fit quite right like proper money would. They didn’t look quite right, either. Printed in muted red, purple, green, and blue like Monopoly money. Big text on the front with a picture of the Liberty Bell. Large numbers in the corner with fine print beside it.

Food stamps.

They were food stamps, and it was the middle of the month, and he didn’t have many left.

He counted two of them out, and hesitated, choosing to add a few dollars to meet the total, and handed them over.

Eddie had no reason to feel embarrassed. This was his life. This was how he fed his daughter. But still, he snuck a glance at you, and you looked away so he didn’t think you were staring, even though you were. You were. Not from a place of judgment, but of natural curiosity. Unfortunately, as you directed your gaze elsewhere, you noticed other people around you weren’t as gracious. Eyeing Eddie with cruelty behind their study of the town freak coming inside their territory and depending on their honest wealth to pay for his food.

He’d only begun to stop chewing on his lips when he left the store. Exiting swiftly to begin the process of calming his anxiety as he loaded his car with groceries, knowing he had meals to eat, even if the price he paid stung his ego.

You went through the motions of bagging your groceries in your backpack, and listened to your gut.

Outside, you unchained your bike and put your bag in the wire basket attached to the handles, squinting in the noonday sun as you walked it to the back of the parking lot where Eddie was placing the plastic bags into the trunk of his car. No one parked on either side of him. Not a notable thing, but with how the store was packed, it stood out.

Eddie heard your wheel spokes click as you neared, and schooled the indications of worse emotions from his face to keep you from prying, but he frowned anyway when you passed him to talk to his daughter instead.

The rear door on the passenger’s side was propped open. You flapped your hand at her to get her attention, and she stretched her arm out as far as her car seat allowed in effort to link your fingers. “See you later, girlie,” you said, squeezing her hand in lieu of a proper hug. “Be good for your dad, alright?”

“I’m always good,” she responded, giving you an assured nod of angelic innocence. Eddie barked a laugh, and closed the trunk.

“You can’t swindle her,” he told Adrie. “She knows all about the fit you threw the other morning when I wouldn’t let you bring your stuffed animals to school.” She cut him a sassy glare at being called out.

“Don’t listen to him,” you consoled her. “You’re perfect.” She beamed at you, and you paralleled her delight as you let go of her to smack Eddie’s hand away from your ribs. “Anyway, I’ve gotta get going. Gotta get this milk in the fridge, y’know.”

You stole a coy look at him reveling in what you hoped wouldn’t become a running joke, and steered your bike away, saying another final goodbye to Adrie.

“Not gonna say goodbye to me?” he asked with an aching amount of pitifulness.

“Ch’yeah.” You swung your leg over the frame, put your feet to the pedals. Ensuring you were a decent distance apart, you called out, “You’re right! I should respect my elders.” You waved and shouted at him pointedly, “Farewell, Eddie!”

He fixed his lazy grin on his daughter, who was laughing like it was the funniest thing she’d ever witnessed, and told her with utmost fondness, “Saw that one coming from a mile away.”

————

Sunday morning, Adrie threw him for a loop.

“I want Miss Mouse to come to my play,” she said, spearing the scrambled eggs on her plate with the tines of her plastic Little Mermaid themed fork. “Can you invite her for me?”

Eddie went rigid. The triangle shaped extras from her pancakes being cut into stars flopped off his fork, paused mid-air on the way to his already stuffed mouth. He chewed slowly. Methodically. Swallowing the syrupy sweetness coating his tongue, biding his time as he hunched deeper over his plate, and stared her down while his uncle took special interest in her request.

Wayne wasn’t able to make it this year, and Adrie was quick to think of a suitable replacement.

With a voice scratchy from cigarettes, he directed his question at his nephew, “Miss Mouse?”

Eddie shut him down with a diplomatic answer without breaking eye contact with his daughter. “Adrie’s nickname for the receptionist at work.”

“Oh! The one who did the costume, and went trick-or-treating with you.”

He sounded much too happy, much too chipper for Eddie’s liking, and when he withdrew his gaze from Adrie to pin it on Wayne, the sharp rush of annoyance at the twinkle in his uncle’s eye manifested in a low, tempered correction for him to drop it. “My coworker from the auto shop, where I’m lucky to have the job that I do.”

Wayne wasn’t having it. He leaned in, and matched his intensity, loading his words with a much deeper meaning than the type of conversation they could have in front of Adrie. He spoke to him man-to-man. “The receptionist who is nice to you and Adrie, and, understandably, is being asked to go to a small event at her school.”

“I know what she’s asking,” Eddie replied from behind his hand. “Stop acting like you don’t.”

“Daddy, please,” Adrie begged, kicking his shin under the table. Eddie inhaled sharply and scooted away.

Wayne looked at him.

Adrie looked at him.

His rules, convictions, and morals of the workplace looked at him, rising as a tense pressure in his chest. Eddie sighed them out.

He was weak.

————

Sunday night, you and Robin were up to your usual bullshit.

Stress baking, and stress baking.

Her house was dimmed to only the small lights above the stove and sink, painting the room in an intimate mood of warmth bouncing off the smoky haze clouding the cramped space from the counter where you transferred a tray of hot cookies to a cooling rack, and she swayed behind you to the sultry Cher record spinning in the distance, seeming far away with her deep vocals melding into loops in your sleepy highs.

“Eddie’s beyond in love with you,” Robin said for the hundredth time, probably.

“He is not,” you argued for the hundredth time, probably. “Can you get me a bag for these?” The double chocolate cookies with Reese’s Pieces on top were ready to be put away to make room for the oatmeal ones.

“I just don’t get why you think he doesn’t like you–Oops.” While reaching for the ziploc bags from the top of the refrigerator, she accidentally knocked down a piece of artwork hanging on the door. She tossed you the box and picked the magnet up, along with the drawing of a mouse, owl, and bat off the floor, and put them back into place. “I mean, the way he looks at you every time you speak..” she trailed off in a wistful, airy breath. “So romantic.”

You answered her dreamy grin with a melancholic shrug of your own. “Yeah, but you don’t see all the other times he looks at me.”

Robin persevered. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.. He’s really–” You struggled for a word, interrupted by the sound of roiling bubbles behind you. “He’s really confusing.”

Exhaling at the ceiling, she asked, “Confusing how? Seems pretty clear to me.”

You groaned. Robin jabbed her elbow into your arm and offered you the bong, and when you showed her your greasy fingers, she turned it around and held it to your lips, lighting it for you until your lungs ached from a full inhale and you gave her a thumbs up to pull the stem.

Different place, same old bullshit. Smoking the last of your combined stash of weed you moved here with while bitching about life. It was hardly the first bowl of the night–or even the third–and the sentences you were trying to string together lulled into the drowsy dregs at the back of your mind.

You dropped your head back and sighed the smoke out. “He gets weird sometimes.”

“He’s always been weird.”

Shaking your head at her, you shifted the tone of the night to a somber one. Serious. Reflective.

Rolling the sugar cookie dough into balls, you recounted Eddie’s most recent rejection. “Last week I was telling him how we were hoping to move out soon, and he was giving off signals and asking questions like it was leading somewhere, but then I ran my stupid mouth, and it’s like he flipped a switch. He just stopped talking to me for the rest of the day.”

She put the bong down on the counter next to the tiny vase holding three flowers, and crossed her arms. “Ran your mouth how?”

You groaned louder into the hot wave of heat fanning your face from opening the oven door. “The dude will seriously flirt with me from clock in to clock out, but I–I dunno. I think I lay it on too thick, and it freaks him out. Like suddenly he realizes I’m serious, and he’s not into it. I’m pretty sure that’s what happened last week, anyway. We were going back and forth listing the pros of me living closer to work, and the cons of you eventually moving in with Vickie, and I kinda made a pass at him..”

“A pass how?”

You drew your brows in, and blinked your droopy eyes in a concentrated effort to recall the conversation. “..To be honest, I can’t remember. It was along the lines of me hinting that I’d want a second date with him. Which I only said because he seemed interested after I told him we were staying in Hawkins, but whatever. Guess I read it wrong.”

Perhaps too astute, your best friend in the entire world navigated your love life with undue keenness in spite of how blitzed you two were, breaking into dumb giggle fits at, quite literally, you dropping a spoon. “How obvious was this hint of yours?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You waved off the notion before you could grow attached to it. “We’re still coworkers, so I need to dial it back, regardless.”

“I think you should dial it up.”

“If I dialed it any more up, I’d get an HR complaint.”

“You don’t have HR,” she reminded you.

Squinting, you paused mixing the chocolate chips into the next batch of cookies. “I think I am HR?”

You handed her the pyrex bowl since it was her turn to roll them into cookies, and as she snacked on the raw dough, you filled the ziploc bag with more treats, stuffing it full.

Cher sang about starting over and finding love again.

The drawing on the fridge was in your periphery, as was the vase. Reminders of how kind, and gentle, and sweet Eddie and his daughter were. You were bound to misread his flirtations, but there was no harm in matching them, right? As long as you didn’t cross any lines, yeah? Just followed his lead and stopped when he made it clear it wasn’t welcomed.

Yeah.

Dialed back. You could do dialed back.

————

This was new.

It was early afternoon when you closed the manila folder of invoices, and directed your attention to Eddie, who, for the first time, imposed himself on your side of the desk.

He acted brave when he was timid. A blatant facade, still hesitant to commit to crossing the threshold past the invisible line where your desk ended and the hallway began. Made himself smaller by leaning on the wall behind you, giving you room to leave if you wanted. Not yet courageous enough to take his hand away from playing with the ends of his hair over his rosy cheeks. “So–um–Adrie’s class is putting together a Thanksgiving play, and she requested your attendance by name,” he finished with an adorable pout of your moniker, “Miss Mouse.”

You sat up straighter with lifted brows.

Thinking he was doing you a favor, he dropped the formalities, and gave you an out–a carefully worded out to avoid any cheeky response about your policy, “It’s gonna be a bunch of rambunctious toddlers singing off key, and not remembering their lines. It’s cool if you don’t want to go, I’ll tell her you were busy or somethin’. She’ll understand.”

You gripped the armrests in a burst of enthusiasm. “What? Of course I wanna go! When is it?”

Eddie was unconvinced. He crossed his arms, and bent at the waist to better assess if you knew what you were getting into. “Uh, Wednesday around lunch time–we can be out and back during our break if we hurry–but I’m serious about the little kids being obnoxious part. You don’t have to go.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” It was a rhetorical question he was going to answer, but you knocked the air from his lungs with one simple sentence. “I want to be there for her.”

Warmth bloomed. Spread throughout his body. The things he suppressed. Taking over all at once.

“You said Wednesday around lunch time?” you clarified. He nodded dumbly, a bit distracted. Your grin grew. “Both Mr. Moore and Carl are taking a half-day to start their Holiday early..” you began, and waited for the realization to cross his features.

“So we could just..”

“Lock up, and..”

“Take the rest of the day off too,” Eddie finished with an undertone of pride. He’d have to work extra hard to complete the cars he was working on before then, but the idea was genius. Playing hooky under his boss’ nose like he was a teenager again.

There was perhaps more he wanted to say, but the phone rang.

You answered and kept the exchange short, using your normal speaking voice. “Robin’s dad is being discharged from the hospital today,” you told him after hanging up. “I’m gonna clock out early to help prepare the house for when he gets here.”

Eddie watched you tidy up your desk in preparation to leave, and figured he should get back to work.

Picking up where he left off, he sank into the passenger’s seat of the Ford Taurus outside, and ran a mental checklist of things he still needed to do. Or he tried, rather. He was mostly sitting there daydreaming about potential scenarios, until he saw you come from the breakroom with your jacket in hand, and left out the front door, waving goodbye as you went.

Two dramatic minutes passed.

The quiet warehouse amplified the aural representation of his loneliness.

Eddie frowned. He wasn’t about to attribute the weather to your proximity, but he was certain the temperature in the garage dropped when you weren’t in the office. Or, maybe, he lost the pretty thing distracting him every few minutes, and he had the time to reflect on how badly he wanted a smoke break in the sun to warm him up.

He went inside to get his jacket from the breakroom, and instead of encountering a pack of Camels in his pocket, he grasped an oddly shaped object, and wrangled it out.

bobbie & i made too many

share with adrie & your uncle!

♡

An array of cookies surprised him. Several flavors, in fact. Some with fun toppings, some plain.

He smiled.

Well. Smiling would be putting it mildly.

Acting on impulse, he (accidentally) crushed the bag to his chest, and made a high-pitched noise of glee in his throat, absolutely smitten. Eddie hadn’t received a sweet gesture like this in years. If ever. Ironically blessed with the allure of being older in high school, he couldn’t distinguish the genuine crushes girls may have had on him from the fake love letters people stuffed in his locker to mess with him. But this? This was sincere. Even if the intention behind the cookies were to pawn them off because you made too many, you still thought of him and Adrie.

Too excited, he opened the bag and went to eat one, but a distinct odor itched his nose–one he was too intimate with to miss.

He held the baggie up and sniffed, then smelled the cookies. Inhaled the acrid scent clinging to the plastic, and nibbled on one of the innocuous looking treats.

He consulted the note again.

share with adrie

You didn’t just give him and his daughter edibles, did you?

————

Wednesday came unannounced. You crossed several days off the calendar in the garage, forgetting to do so with the influx of orders, phone calls, and customers getting in their last minute fixes before the Holiday break. You did what you could. Eddie did what he could. And now, you taped a handwritten sign to the front door and locked it until Monday morning.

Grabbing your backpack, you went to the women’s restroom, and Eddie went to the men’s to change out of your work clothes. After some arguing back and forth through the doors, you made him agree to open them on a countdown, and through your giggles, you shouted, “Three!”

You swung open your door and were instantly disappointed. “Why are you wearing that?”

Eddie made a similar sneer across from you in the hallway, and questioned your sanity, “What in the world are you wearing?”

“It’s adorable, and festive!” You defended yourself by pointing out the scarecrow patch on the chest pocket of your baggy overalls, and how your orange flannel matched the one he was wearing. “Do you not think so, you big gray cloud?”

“Yeah, super cute. You’ll blend right in with the toddlers,” he snarked with much less malice than his words implied, on account of his lopsided grin.

“Big talk coming from the guy dressed like a moody teen.” Sinfully tight black jeans, black boots, black belt sporting a handcuff buckle, black leather jacket, black tee with a graphic of a rattlesnake wrapped around a skull.

It was his first date outfit again. How sweet.

And you didn’t need to be checking out his ass to see the bandana hanging out of his back pocket as he escorted you to his car, but you weren’t complaining about the opportunity. “You should worry about scaring the children with how angry you look.”

He held the employee door open for you, and locked it–then almost tripped on his way to unlock the car door, and hold it open for you too. “Angry?” He glanced from your outfit to his. “Good thing I’m with you, then. We’ll balance each other out, Sunshine.”

“An unlikely pair,” you agreed in good faith. Once he shut your door, and was in the process of walking around to his side, you gawked at the nickname. “Sunshine?”

You snapped your mouth shut as he fell into the driver’s seat, and started the car.

“So,” you drew out to break the silence after he didn’t have the courtesy of turning on the radio to ease the tension of being stuck in a small enclosure together, “red, huh?” The entire interior–every last detail–was custom made in the same bright crimson, from the air vents to the tiniest knobs.

The engine revved with his heavy stamp on the gas. Your stomach flipped. His grin went wicked.

“There weren’t many made in this color,” he said, thrilled to see your fingernails dig into your palms as he peeled out onto the street, and the garage became a miniature in his rearview mirror at a frightening speed, considering you were coming up on an intersection. “I’m lucky I found her used, and she didn’t need much work.”

Petrified as you might be by his reckless driving, you still had it within you to make a sound of disgust. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that refers to their car as a woman.”

“What?” he scoffed. He relaxed one of his hands on his thigh as he lounged back with his head cocked, brazen with his newfound vanity. An arrogant curve to his lips as he interpreted your lingering gaze on his fingers splayed across his leg as being impressed by him, his car, his attitude. The whole package. “You don’t gender your bike?”

Without giving it much consideration, you supposed, “I think my bike is a he.”

“Ha! You ride a man to work every day,” he mumbled after the abrupt laugh.

His smile vanished.

The fact he didn’t mean to say that out loud became very apparent.

The blood drained from his face as quickly as it returned. Splotches of blushy red worked its way up his throat, turning his ears the same color as his beloved car’s interior. Same shade as the traffic light up ahead. Same bawdy hue typically associated with the lustful act his brain suggested before his mouth caught up.

Eddie sat at attention. Swallowed against his pulse as he stepped on the clutch and downshifted gears. The leather strapped steering wheel creaked under his dual vice grip. His chest deflated with a heavy breath, and blinking rapidly at the road, his pounding heart trembled his voice, “Please forget I said that.”

Curled into a ball facing the window–stomach clenched painfully tight from uncontrollable laughter–you muffled yourself with your flannel’s collar, “Never!”

~~~

The rest of the car ride was boring in comparison to the start, but you made it to Adrie’s preschool with only a few more unintentional eruptions of giggles when you remembered Eddie’s horrified face, while he drove in abject misery.

He parked the car, and got out quickly.

“How precious,” you said. The squat brick building had aged pine needles clinging to its shingled roof, and Thanksgiving themed art hanging in its windows.

Opening the entrance door brought the waft of buttery biscuits and grape jelly. Eddie guided you with purpose through the makeshift cafeteria, made snug with four child-sized picnic tables in the middle, and fingerpainted art adorning the navy blue walls. His keyring dangled from his belt, drumming against his jeans as he pivoted into a hallway illuminated by the overcast day outside. Gentle music came from the empty nursery to the left, and to the right was a heavy wooden door that did little to quiet the ruckus beyond it.

He paused. The rectangle window above the door knob streaked the side of his face with warm light from within, countering the nervous energy in his eyes as he took a long moment to look at you. You waited for him to speak, but he decided against it.

“I’m excited,” you offered, just above a whisper, wanting to say anything to help ease the eerie vagueness in his expression.

A muscle in his cheek twitched like he was going to smile, but it came across rather apprehensive.

He turned the knob. You walked inside first. Both of you stood still.

The room was as inviting as it was overwhelming. Bright, decorated, and packed with people. People who were dressed in business casual, and broken off into pairs of two. People who knelt to speak on level with someone who displayed a combination of their distinct features. People who mingled with other adults after the little ones were ushered to the front of the room by the teachers. People who gushed over a topic with their heads together, beaming at a miniature version of themselves dressed in a costume. People who contributed in a joint effort to create life, and the reason they were here today.

Parents.

They were parents.

This was an event for parents.

This was a play for parents to attend to see their child perform, and partake in themed crafts with the implication of going home afterwards to spend the Holidays together.

Eddie watched you realize this.

An older woman gravitated towards you two.

This was very, intensely, happening right now, and you had to navigate the whiplash to the best of your improv abilities.

“Good to see you,” she greeted Eddie first, and he gave a pleasant reply, but she didn’t hear it. Her attention was on you, eyes magnified by her thick glasses, and smiling wider than before. “You brought someone,” she all but gasped, speaking to him, though she was clasping your hand. “I’m Mrs. Teresa. And you are?”

Eddie had a response prepared.

“I’m Adrie’s friend!” you blurted.

He pressed his mouth shut and gave you a sideways glance.

“And, uh,” you continued to dig your grave, “and I work with Eddie. I met Adrie one day, and we really hit it off, haha. Next thing I know I’m trick-or-treating with her, and uh.. now I’m here!” When her expression of anticipation did not wane, you followed up your ramble with your name, and she nodded appreciatively, patting the back of your hand.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” she said. “We’re starting soon if you’d like to sit.”

She moved on to a non-platonic couple, and collected their kid to the front where a backdrop of an autumnal forest jostled due to the jittery group of children hiding behind it–most notably, the little girl at the edge who peeped her head out, and jumped up and down.

You both waved at Adrie.

Eddie’s hand landed on your mid-back, and he directed you with an appropriate amount of pressure towards the last row of chairs, choosing two in the middle.

“Smooth,” he commented.

“Shut it.” Sneaking an eyeful of the broad man next to you wearing a blazer under his boiled wool overcoat, you scooted your chair closer to Eddie’s. He must’ve had a similar train of thought, because he did the same to get away from the woman next to him, unwittingly making you two cozier than you were at the movies.

Shoulder to shoulder, he kept his hands in his pockets, and your elbow slotted into the crook his arm created when he slouched towards you.

“Are we not friends?” he asked in reference to your introduction.

You assured him, “The best of reluctant friends.”

The impish smile he shared with you dwindled with each set of hypercritical eyes getting their gawk in before one of the teachers turned off the lights.

The room was overcome with darkness. Blackout curtains suppressed daylight from coming through–for naptime, you assumed–and as children do, they squealed. The teachers soothed them with an amused shush, and turned on two lamps, pointing them like spotlights at the backdrop. Your eyes refused to adjust past the faint outline of your leg pressed flush against Eddie’s, (from hip to calf as a result from seeking support in each other,) but that was beside the point. The show began.

Mrs. Teresa sat off to the side and opened a comically large book. She read the first passage aloud with the pages facing the parents, and out came the kids dressed as pilgrims, brandishing their buckle shoes and hats. In another breath, the ones wearing brown shirts and feathers arrived, and you grimaced at the watered down kid-friendly rewrite of history being acted out, interspersed with songs about sharing.

At least Adrie was dancing around as a carrot with other vegetable-clad children, spelling out what part of the cornucopia they were.

Truly, it could’ve been worse.

But it was during a chorus about friendship sung at the top of their lungs, you unbit your tongue, and leaned into Eddie. “So when are they gonna enslave the Natives and steal their land?”

“Pft!”

Several pairs of shoulders in front of you turned to glare at what they assumed was Eddie snickering at their children’s bad singing before sitting forward, surely perturbed.

He knocked the side of his fist on the top of your thigh, and went to scold you.

But the room was dark.

So dark.

And he misjudged how close you sat.

The cold tip of his nose made contact with the cusp of your cheekbone. His stuttered breath caught your jaw. Your arm slipped further into the curve of his body.

He could’ve realized his mistake. He could’ve stopped there. He could’ve apologized for overstepping the coworker code of conduct. He could’ve reminded himself you’d be gone by the end of the summer. He could’ve dialed it back. He could’ve kept it casual. He could’ve backed off, and dropped the silly reprimand altogether. He could’ve done so many things. But he didn’t. He accepted the risk, and committed to it.

He dipped his head until his plump lips discovered the shell of your ear. Every word vibrated on your skin, rippling goosebumps in the wake of his groaned warning, “You’re gonna get me in trouble.” Trembly, raspy from keeping his voice low. Hardly hitting the hard consonants with his tongue before he was withdrawing.

The humidity from his exhale remained. It cooled on your skin. In the weak lamplight, you shifted your wide eyes to his, and the knowledge of what transpired reflected in his keen gaze gauging the consequences of his actions.

Stuck in a daze of buzzing endorphins, you had no idea how to interpret what the hell just happened.

Careful, he didn’t dare express an emotion that would give his true self away.

Together, you both redirected the focus to his daughter.

It took another few seconds for either of you to discern the back of his hand resting on your thigh. He took it away, and crossed his legs, establishing some much needed space between you.

~~~

The play ended, and the lights were flipped on. Everyone winced. There was an announcement from one of the teachers about a snack and crafts for the parents who were staying; and without an auto shop to attend to, you and Eddie were able to dote over Adrie instead of being forced back into the intimacy of his car.

He stood up and said he’d be right back. Lucky for Adrie, she bolted for you first, and you wasted no time in scooping her up into a crushing hug, grateful for the distraction.

Overflowing with pride, you channel all your love into lauding Adrie in mushy compliments, rubbing your cheek against hers. “Oh my gosh, you did so good! You were the best carrot I’ve ever seen. I’m downright impressed by your performance, remembering all those lines.” Pulling away, you waggled your eyebrows. “You wanna grow up to be an actor? Have people flock to see you on stage?” Her face brightened in renewed excitement.

“On a stage like Da–?”

Eddie intervened out of nowhere, “You two ladies gonna join me?” You startled an imperceivable amount from his sudden appearance–truly, you didn’t even jump–but it was enough to earn his toothy grin. “I reserved two seats at the Queen’s table for the princess and her esteemed guest for the evening.” He bowed with a swept out arm, showing you the way through the sea of adults.

Queen’s table was certainly a way to sell it.

It was a tiny, tiny thing. There were several of them at the back of the room, seating four children at most–or two adults and a four-year-old–and Adrie chose a blue one with a cartoon turkey decoration in the middle.

Half an ass cheek fit in the chair, the tabletop was at your shins, and your knees were tucked to your chest. You met Eddie’s gaze above Adrie’s head, and rubbed her back while he stroked her hair, running his fingers through the tangles.

You assumed, for the most part, he wanted to ignore what happened earlier as if it never happened, and you followed his lead.

Adrie broke you from your musing. There was commotion surrounding the teachers, and she gasped, flapping her hands when she saw what they were carrying.

A palm-sized pumpkin pie was set before her, along with three spoons.

“I made this fresh this morning,” she informed you as if she were running a bakery. And as head baker, she was in charge of portion sizes. She took one spoon and scooped out a modest amount of pumpkin filling, and not a crumb of graham crust more. That one was for Eddie.

For you? She split the rest of the pie, and gave you your half balanced on your spoon, and dug into her half without giving her dad a second glance.

“Hey,” he whined. “Not fair. I’m the one who raised you. Why does she get more?”

Speaking down to him like it was the most obvious thing ever, she rolled her eyes, and said, “Because girls are better, Daddy.”

You didn’t hide your snort.

“Yeah, Eddie.” You taunted him by waving the spoon before sticking the pie chunk in your mouth. “G–irls sh’are better.”

Chewing on his measly portion, he regarded his princess and her esteemed guest with a similar amount of weakness, and the tension at the corners of his eyes softened. He submitted. “Yeah. Girls are better.”

~~~

After the snack was a craft. In this case, hand turkeys. Paper, crayons, markers, and colored pencils were passed out amongst the tables, and a teacher gave instructions to the kiddos.

You grabbed the cartoon turkey decoration in the middle of the table for reference, and began your masterpiece. Adrie kept it classic, tracing her hand. Eddie did.. whatever he was doing, hunched over to hide his paper from you two for the past ten minutes.

“I made a princess turkey,” Adrie announced. Indeed, her turkey was decked out with a flowy dress and pink pointy hennin. In the background was a cobblestone castle.

You showed her your realistic turkey, hoping to impress her, but she pulled a face.

“Ew, he’s ugly.”

Frowning at your drawing, you compared him to the one on the table centerpiece, and felt bad for all the less-than-beautiful turkeys around the world. “That’s just the way he looks..”

Eddie, happy as a clam, slammed his pencil down and flaunted his drawing. “I turned mine into a dragon.”

Converging with Adrie, she whispered in your ear, and as a unit, you judged his hand turkey, weighing the artistic ability versus the outlandish deviation from the original assignment.

After a heated debate, you cleared your throat for his attention.

You both applauded his efforts with a humbling clap.

~~~

It wasn’t long before Adrie grew bored with coloring, and left to play with her friends. They gathered around a chest by the teacher’s desk, and brought out non-Thankgivingsy costumes. She played dress up in a fairy-unicorn combo, and another girl hopped around in a mermaid outfit, complete with a shimmery tail.

Eddie switched seats, flopping into the middle chair with a grunt. He moved Adrie’s drawing aside and set up shop. Made himself right at home. Really just invaded your area like he owned the place.

“Uhh–” You gaped. “Can you kindly remove your knee from my vicinity? You’re blocking both my drawing and the colored pencils.”

He imposed himself more. Nudging his feet wider for the sole reason of bothering you until you were forced to curl in on yourself in an uncomfortable hunch. Actively ignoring your plea by sketching the finishing touches on his dragon.

Resigning your sneer at the back of his head, you agreed, “All right.” If he wanted to play that game, you would too. You snatched the orange pencil you needed for your turkey’s feathers, and shoved the markers to the far side of the table, outside his reach.

Giving him no time to prepare a counterattack, you looped your arm around his leg to his shin, and hugged his thigh to your chest with your flexed bicep, locking his knee in a sleeper hold any wrestler would be proud of, preventing him from getting up.

Yes, things scattered as you did this. Yes, people rubbernecked. No, you didn’t care, and Eddie didn’t, either.

Well, he cared a little, even if the grumpy persona he donned cracked with each failed frown.

His mouth curled into a grin despite his resistance. “I can’t have the red marker?” The syllables were caught amongst his hissy laugh at your ridiculousness–tip of his tongue to his teeth, voice rich with affection, and eyes squinted from pure adoration–a short question articulated through his mirth, with his chest braced against your arm after accepting the position of your entwined bodies, and another beg for you to understand on his lips. “How am I supposed to outline the fire he’s breathing, huh?”

He furrowed his brows to appear angry, but it was futile. His smile was here to stay. And what a treat it was to get lost in the moment.

At any point he could’ve easily broken from your hold. Hell, you hardly had his leg secured in your embrace after he shook his hair out of his face, and your muscles were rendered to warm jelly. But still, he played along.

You hunkered down and returned to your drawing with his jeans rubbing on the underside of your chin. “I once heard of these magic words you could use to get what you want.. if you ask nicely.” He hummed a disgruntled noise to show his displeasure. Poor him, being beaten at this own game, and served with a dose of his own medicine.

Incredulous, he huffed, “Magic words?” But there was something suspicious about his tone..

Something just not quite right, indeed..

Without looking, you snatched his hand seconds before his mischievous fingers wiggled their way to your ribs. You interlaced an assortment of index, middle, and thumbs in a twist of power, and dragged your gaze away from your artwork to mock him. “So predictable, Eddie.”

“Am I?”

An aware glimmer from how unpredictable he was half an hour ago presented itself as a gorgeous flash of slyness across his eyes, crinkling his crow’s feet at the corners–

The metal feet of Eddie’s abandoned chair scraped along the floor.

You disengaged from each other, cheeks burning with fresh shame.

Mrs. Teresa had a yellow paper folder tucked under her arm. This was not favorable for Adrie on account of her sharp heel-turn when she saw her teacher sit at the table with her preschool assessment opened for her dad to pour over.

You couldn’t read anything from your angle, but it appeared to be a collection of Adrie’s assignments and a progress report with many notes written in the margins.

Pushing her glasses up her nose, Mrs. Teresa licked her fingertips, and flipped through the pages, updating him since the last time they did this.

The conversation was about the places Adrie excelled, and where she could improve. In regards to education, she was surpassing where she should be, and she was a quick learner. Kindergarten would be no trouble for her. It was sharing, and social interactions she was struggling with, despite her ability to make friends.

Mrs. Teresa guided Eddie towards a more serious discussion about these concerns by asking him if he told her ‘no’ frequently, and how she reacted when he did. You’d never seen him so nervous. Fidgeting, bouncing, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. Stuttering through a weak admission that he has trouble disappointing her.

He was uncomfortable, and you did your due diligence to tune them out. But it was no use.

Surveying the room, your mind was consumed by Eddie once more. For a different reason, and inciting a different emotion.

Parents at the other tables whispered observations about his mannerisms into their partner’s ear. About his disheveledness. His weirdness. His clothes. His nonconformity. His last name. The whole package.

He was the father to the sweet little girl they invited to birthday parties, but never stayed after dropping her off with a gift? This was the man who never spoke. Never lingered long enough to put the rumors at rest. Never denied them either, so, logically, the gossip about him must be true.

“As you know, Adrie will throw tantrums from time to time when you drop her off,” Mrs. Teresa eased him into the topic. “When she cries, she asks for you, and it’s difficult to calm her down. This is abnormal for how long she’s been enrolled here. Have you been working on those techniques I taught you to help steer her towards more independence?” Her inquiry was kind, and sympathetic. It was valid, but his first instinct was to defend himself.

“I-I, well.” He took a shaky breath, and leaned towards her with his elbow on his thigh to cup his hand around his mouth, and sliding it to wring the back of his neck. “She’s–It’s just, she’s all I have, a-a-and–”

Mrs. Teresa rubbed his shoulder.

Though you were missing context for what Adrie’s teacher was trying to correct him from doing, you wanted to show your support. Lessen his stress. Afterall, the integrity of dialed back crumbled when his lips grazed your ear, and following his lead culminated in you being invited into his daughter’s world, so what’s the worst that could happen if you took a risk and comforted him? ..Besides discovering if David’s Auto Repair had an HR department.

Eddie’s pitch fluctuated as he bounced his leg harder, “When I’m home, I just want to make her happy–and, she’s, she’s–” You placed your hand on his knee, and stroked your thumb over the skin peeking out from the rips in his jeans. His inhale hitched at the sensation.

Without otherwise addressing what you did, he covered your hand with his own, crooked his cold fingertips into the spaces between yours, and parsed his thoughts. Slowed his mind. Ceased his nervous habit of bouncing his leg. Appreciated the gesture, even as the tacky silver spider ring on his pinky taunted you.

“I’ve been better about telling her ‘no’ lately,” he said more clearly. “The tantrums are happening less, and they don’t last as long when she sees I’m not budging. But the other stuff.. I don’t know.”

“Do you still carry her?” she asked, and he avoided eye contact.

“Yeah.”

“She’s almost five. She’s not a baby anymore, dear. It’s best to wean her now before it becomes a bigger problem.”

“I know.”

Mrs. Teresa gave him a motherly pat on his back, and smiled at you–his coworker–and rearranged Adrie’s folder to the bottom of the stack she had, and moved on to another table.

For a while, Eddie twisted the hair at his nape around his finger. Eyes fixated on the crayon box. You waited for him to come around, and when he did, he smiled and squeezed your hand before sliding his clammy palms to his thigh, allowing you to let go of his knee.

His chest rumbled with a soft laugh. “Sorry, was I shaking the table?”

Yes? No? Maybe? You weren’t paying attention to notice. “Yeah, like an earthquake,” you joked.

“My bad,” he said with not a hint of remorse displayed in his delighted expression.

On cue, serving as the perfect interruption to the prolonged stare you gave each other, another autumnal craft was being distributed amongst the parents remaining, and Adrie set her chin on top of where your and her dad’s shoulders touched.

Mrs. Teresa’s advice regarding his codependency went ignored for another day.

Eddie shut his eyes and pressed his temple to Adrie’s, humming contently to himself, cherishing the affection he ached for.

Adrie, on the other hand, gasped when she spied what was on the table, and rang his ears, “Glitter!”

~~~

Thank God Eddie was a safer driver with Adrie in the car; your stomach couldn’t handle another queasy acceleration through a yellow light while you made a concentrated effort to get flakes of gold glitter out of your eyebrows, having no recollection of how they got there.

In her car seat behind you, Adrie regaled you with the plot points of the latest episode of My Little Pony Tales, chirping away happily about the interpersonal relationships between the cartoon horses until Eddie pulled into the alleyway behind the auto shop, and you turned around to say your goodbyes, thanking her for inviting you.

You opened the car door and heard Eddie do the same. You were about to ask him why he was getting out too, when he went up to the employee door and unlocked it for you.

Right, you left your keys in your backpack.

Rationally you knew he wasn’t a mind reader, but you were still sheepish when getting your bike, wheeling it out to stand across from him in what was a dreadful amount of silence.

“So, uh,” he faltered in the same rush of feelings crashing like a wave over the both of you. “Thank you for coming today. I know Adrie appreciated having you there.” He went shy, scratching the back of his head before putting his hands in his pockets. “Sorry about the mess.”

You shrugged at the mention of glue on your sleeve. “It’s whatever. I’m just glad I got to watch her perform.” Dumbass move, bringing up the play when what happened during it influenced every bit of this awkward interaction. You hurried to move past it, “Plus, the pumpkin pie was nice.” And what happened afterwards when we held hands–twice–was nicer.

Jesus Christ.

Reeling in the desire to bolt, you gambled on one last question before going home to scream into your pillow. “Uhm–Can I ask you something?”

“I guess,” he answered with a wary tone.

“Why do people look at you weird?” You motioned at his clothes. “Besides the obvious.”

The deep creases between his brows from years of scrunching his face in a sour expression became more prominent. “There’s a lot of rumors out there about me.. Some are true, some aren’t.”

“Do you want to tell me which ones are true?”

Inside the car, Adrie swayed in her seat, belting a tune neither of you could hear.

“I will some other time, okay?” He flicked his gaze to you, saw the understated kindness of your soft smile, and diverted his attention to the rock he was grinding under his shoe; bashful despite the burden of his reputation affecting the instant sag in his posture. “I will,” he promised again, giving you a curt nod.

You walked your bike up beside him, and bumped his elbow. “Hey, don’t look so glum,” you insisted. “Whatever it is, I’ll still go with you to parent-teacher conferences as Adrie’s best friend so you don’t look so painfully single.”

You threw your head back in a witchy cackle as you hopped on your bike and rode away.

And it was when you were in the familiar territory of woods flocking either side of the dirt road leading to Robin’s house that you gave into the urge, and released an embarrassed, guttural, annoyed groan of one word, scaring the blackbirds in the nearby trees, “Why?”

Single, single, single. Good God, could you be more obvious?

Dialed back was a lost cause from the start.

“Well, whatever happens, happens, I guess.” And you finished it with, “Idiot.”

————

Eddie had been sitting in his car for all of two seconds when he patted the side of his seat for the back recliner, and cranked it until he was almost laid flat.

Driving his hands from his nape and upward, he gathered his hair between his fingers and covered his face, mashing the curly ends over his eyes screwed shut from red-hot shame.

He inhaled deeply, and reprimanded his dumbassery in the loudest groan. “That was so–incredibly–not casual.”

“What’s the matter, Daddy?” Adrie asked, sounding like a therapist as she pinched her sticky fingers together to shift the gold glitter from one to the other.

Composing himself, he finished dragging his palms down his cheeks, and combed away the strands stuck on his eyelashes. He blinked. “It’s nothing.” Nothing at all. He definitely wasn’t thinking of how fucked he was, believing he could handle today without taking things too far.

But it wasn’t how he almost kissed your cheek that bothered him the most, nor the multiple scenarios he supplied in effort to hold your hand, or touch you in general.

No. It was worse.

Staring unfocused at the ceiling, his lips parted with a realization.

His whisper was for himself, and his heart only. “I didn’t even care that people were staring at me today..” The mercy of your presence brought a line of water to his eyes. Not enough to flow over, but enough for him to notice his loneliness.

“Can you invite Miss Mouse to Thanksgiving?”

“No, she has her own Thanksgiving to attend,” he told her, and held his hand out, making a grabby motion at her. She understood and put her shoe in his palm so he could squeeze her ankle. Any affection. Any at all. Giving or receiving.

Knowing the answer, he asked, “You really like her, huh?”

“She’s my favorite.”

“Yeah, she’s my favorite too,” he said, in whatever capacity she meant, he meant it as well. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t, but he did.

Massaging his thumb and forefinger into circles on his forehead, he meditated on the right thing to do. Meaning, he thought about the hundreds of reasons he should put an end to this, to discourage Adrie’s relationship with you, and to resist the temptation of forming his own; and instead he latched onto the idea of him not appearing single for a little longer than his logical brain was comfortable with.

Coworker, risk, flighty personality, yada, yada..

He snorted. “Yeah, I should probably stop this.”

Adrie rolled her leg in his grasp to get him to let go. “Can we stop at McDonald’s first?”

“Wha–?” After a moment of confusion, he sighed. “Give me a break, kid.”

#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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lovelytsunoda · 2 months ago

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the sixth sense | jake "hangman" seresin

summary: after a car accident totals her car and leaves her with the ability to see ghosts, an anxious police desk sergeant learns to live with the ghosts haunting her home, and the crush she has on the hot pilot who lives next door

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

warnings: car accidents, ghosts (but they're very funny ghosts!), sexual innuendos/advances made by a ghost, if you can recognize the names of the detectives/station staff and can correctly tell me what tv show they are from, you get a metaphorical cookie. jake is a very involved neighbour.

author's note: my f1 fics for this collection have been on the struggle bus lately, so here's hoping my top gun one does better

sargeant y/l/n wouldn't say she hated her job, exactly, but there were many days where she wasn't always thrilled with it. take today for example, her desk piled high with requisition forms for fingerprint checks, traffic camera footage, autopsy reports and more.

it wasn't that she didn't like the work. no, she found catching murderers to be most rewarding. it was the people she worked with. detectives who didn't see her as an equal, but as a machine, dropping files on her desk with a demand and an impossible deadline.

"yn, how busy are you for the next few days?"

she raised her eyebrows at the detective across from her. "for you, detective disher? i won't be free until at least the end of the week."

detective disher raised an eyebrow. "how much work are they piling on you? you aren't their servants, you can speak up and tell them you're too busy."

she rolled her eyes, chewing the end of her bic pen. "usually they hightail it out of here before i even have a chance to open my mouth. some of them don't even speak to me or give instructions, they just drop a file on my desk and assume that i know what to do with it."

detective disher frowned. "we really need another desk sargeant."

"you think?"

it was long after sundown when she left the office that night, overtime she probably wasn't going to get paid for. she hoped that leaving at 6:30 was worth it to have a clean desk in the morning, one almost free of files long enough that she could breathe. of course, by the morning, all of the late shift detectives would have dropped all of their files off for her review.

she was about halfway home when traffic started to pick up again, the glow of the led headlights making it difficult to see out of her side mirrors. her glasses claimed to be glare resistant, but what did someone without astigmatism know about glare?

she turned right at the next set of lights, descending down the hill that would lead to her small, cosy neighbourhood. she was still a fair distance away as she watched the light change from yellow to red, taking her foo toff the gas. the car ahead of her seemed to be slowing, but not by much, and the car behind her was uncomfortably close. she sped up slightly, ready to put her foot on the brakes whenever neccesary.

wait a minute, are his break lights out? he's stopping!

she slammed her foot on the brakes, watching helplessly as her car continued to slide forward, her front bumper colliding with the rusted tail hitch.

her head jerked forward from the impact, banging against the steering wheel before it all went black.

she came to in the hospital, where audio was blurry and vision even worse as the doctor explained the symptoms of a concussion to her.

“it was a bad scene all around. you’re lucky you weren’t injured further.” the doctor insisted. “legally, I can’t allow you to drive for the next few days. is there someone we can call?”

realistically, the only name that came to mind was detective dishers. her parents were two cities away, and she didn’t want to disturb them. her sister was on vacation, and she didn’t want to bother any of her friends.

disher picked her up by the main doors, a matchbox twenty song playing on his stereo as she groggily slipped into the passenger seat, a plastic baggie full of prescription drugs in her hands.

“just take me home, randy. I don’t want to talk about it.”

the detective sighed. “okay. But you know you don’t have to come into work tomorrrow, right?”

great. no work meant no leaving the house. no leaving the house meant that her thoughts drove her to the brink of madness.

she simply couldn’t win.

as she slipped into her bed, she must have been slowly losing her mind as she swore that she could hear voices in her room as she was drifting off. she didn't think much of it, chalking it up to exhaustion as she let sleep claim her.

the following morning, she groggily puttered around the kitchen, assembling a light breakfast as she called her captain to explain why she couldn't come to wrok.

"hey captain, i was in an accident last night-"

"i know. randy called me. are you doing okay?"

"no concussion, but the doctor wants me to monitor for signs, so i'm not super hopeful. disher drove me home, and i'm supposed to hear from the mechanics about the state of my car later today."

"well, take care of yourself, yn. if you need anything at all, you have my number, and you have randy's. but don't call adrian, he's probably just going to make things worse."

she sighed, rubbing the skin on her forehead, fingertips teasing the edge of the bandages from where she'd hit her head on the steering wheel. "thanks leland."

"my my, you look a little worse for wear, don't you?" the voice came from nowhere, very thickly british and definitely not familiar.

she spun around, spying a figure in the kitchen doorway. his long hair dusted the shoulders of his leather jacket, and his skinny jeans were ripped to oblivion. she screamed, reaching for the metal ladle in her utensils jar.

"how the fuck did you get into my house?"

"your house?" the man looked confused. "sweetheart, i've always been here. i wouldn't throw that at me, if i was you. you'll just damage the wall behind me."

"who the fuck are you?" she stammered. "you're not real, this is just concussion brain, i should call the doctor back and go another scan-"

"you're seeing ghosts, honey." this voice was older, deeper. kinder. and significantly less british. another body materialized in her kitchen, sitting at her breakfast counter. she was round and plump, with a rosy face and sweet, kind eyes. she wore a nun's habit over a white blouse and a long navy skirt. "rick over there died in 1984. i'm sister katherine, and i died in 1961. lovely to meet you properly."

"the fuck do you mean i'm seeing ghosts?!" yn screamed, the sound reverberating through her skull. "you're not real!"

"i understand that this is a lot to take in." sister katherine insisted "but it must have something to do with the accident you were in last night."

"how do you know about my accident?" she pushed, brandishing her metal spoon as a weapon.

rick rolled his eyes. "because we watched that detective bring you home last night. tell me, are you two sordid lovers? if i wasn't dead i would love to get a piece of your-"

"enough, richard!"

"what the hell is happening right now? has he been watching me in the shower?" yn hissed under her breath, starting to pace back and forth in front of her stovetop.

"if you've got a head injury, you should really sit down." the nun kept trying to reason with yn, but nothing in this situation made one iota of sense.

she shakily sat down in one of the ikea chairs in her kitchen, and noted how badly her hands were shaking. she dropped the ladle on the table, clasping her hands together. she refused to look at rick and sister katherine, instead focusing on where her shellac manicure had begun to chip.

she really should book herself in for a fresh one.

"we have visitors!" rick's voice carried, his ghostly body reappearing next to yn. she startled in the chair, refusing to meet his eyes. "he looks annoyed, and he's wearing mechanics coveralls. i wore a pair of those on stage once. ladies love 'em."

"he was in a very unsuccessful hair band." sister katherine clarified.

"i need both of you to stay quiet for a second." she sighed. "he must be from the body shop."

she closed the front door behind her, although that was unlikely to do much against two beings who could walk through walls, but a girl could try.

"are you y/n y/l/n?"

"sergeant y/n y/l/n." she corrected. "san francisco pd. can i help you?"

"i'm from clint's garage, detective disher brought your car in last night."

that didn't sound good. behind her, she could hear a car door slam in her neighbour's driveway. oh good, jake was home. she tried not to let her eyes wander, waiting with bated breath for what the mechanic was going to say next.

"the front bumper was totally smashed, caved in where you hit the trailer hitch. the hood is also bent back a bit from impact. the good news is that the airbags didn't go off, which means your car can be fixed. the bad news is that it's going to cost more than your car is worth."

she could feel her headache coming back, her legs beginning to feel weak. she knew her car wasn't worth much due to it's age. but the city didn't pay her enough for her to be able to take on the payment for a new car outright, even if she was buying used.

she felt unsteady, and her body was starting to list to one side as two strong arms picked her up.

"i've got you, just keep breathing." the smell of cologne was overwhelming. there was no way in fuck that was rick, and it wasn't the mechanic.

she'd know that texan drawl anywhere. and that meant that right now, she was in navy pilot jake seresin's arms.

and that idea made her feel a little more faint that normal.

jake seresin had lived in that neighbourhood longer than her. she'd moved into her rental house just over four years ago, and he'd bene there on viewing day in a tight white tank top and jeans, getting all sudsy as he washed his silverado in the driveway. she couldn't resist watching from the window as he got into his truck in full navy fatigues before he went to work, or when he worked out shirtless on his front lawn since the porch took up most of the back.

she cleared her throat. "can i get an estimate for the repairs? will it cost less than buying a whole new car?"

the mechanic sighed. "look, even at randy's mates rate, it would still be more advisable to buy something new. go to a dealership and look at the preowned lot, anything less than 20k will serve you a lot better than getting this car fixed up would."

she couldn't form words, mind going fuzzy from the feeling of jakes hand on her lower back, and the thought of going back inside and facing the ghosts again.

"thanks, man. she can't drive for a few days anyway," jake started "but i'll bring her to the car lot when she's better and help her find something nicer."

jake helped her back inside, where the ghosts were watching giddily with their heads through the kitchen wall.

"you didn't have to do that." she insisted, avoiding eye contact with sister katherine while she spoke to jake. "i really can't afford a new car."

she could hear sister katherine in the background, whispering to rick. he's a hot one, and a real gentleman too!

"but you can't drive that one either. it's almost twenty years old, yn." jack frowned. "treat yourself. finance if you have to. take the scrap money and run, that's what i would do. you think the navy pays me well either?"

she fought the urge to bury her head in her hands and slump down on the table. "can you drive me to my follow up at the end of the week? he just wants to make sure there's no brain damage. i was going to get detective disher to do it, but if you have the morning off its less hassle."

jake looked puzzled. "why would you want me to do it instead of your boyfriend? shouldn't that be his job?"

"why the fuck does everybody think i'm hooking up with randy?" she shouted. "jesus, jake. he's my fucking boss."

the pilot's face was red as he carded his fingers through his hair. "he just seems to be over here a lot. he drove you home from the hospital last night and i just assumed."

"he's over here a lot because his girlfriend threw him out so sometimes i let him sleep on the daybed in my spare room while he finds a new place. we've been friends for years, we were at the academy together. i could be where he is if i wasn't too chickenshit to go into the field."

jake paused for effect. "well, this is awkward. are you sure you never thought about it."

despite herself, yn laughed. "we hooked up once back at the academy. we were sooo not compatible."

"i fucking knew it!" she heard rick shout in the background. "men and women can't just be friends!"

"richard!" sister katherine cut him off. "let the girl speak and mind your own business."

"lucky for you," jake grinned, totally unaware of the ghosts arguing behind him, every syllable of their argument making yn cringe inside "i happen to have the day off on friday. i'll take you to the doctors, and if everything is good, we can go to the car lot where i bought my truck. the guy will give you a good deal."

"i want a volkswagen. that's non-negotiable." she warned.

"that's fine. we can even stop by the garage and pick up your scrap money to put towards a deposit."

her chest felt tight with everything jake was offering to do for her. it was a slight anxiety, but a positive one. nerves that sprung to mind when she thought that maybe jake was offering to do all of these things for her because he wanted to be more than just her neighbour.

and as incredible as she knew it would feel to have a special place in jake seresin's heart, she'd been out of a relationship for so long that being in one again scared the ever-loving shit out of her.

true to his word, jake picked her up promptly at ten am the following morning. she had stressed about what to wear all morning, dodging criticisms about her outfit choice from sister katherine ('seriously, what on earth are they selling in the clothing shops these days? tops are supposed to go to the top of your jeans! what happened to dressing respectably?) and outdated sex tips from rick (which came with a knowledge of the ghost's kinks that she wished she could erase from her memory).

"just to be clear, you guys are bound to this house, right? you died here and now you can't leave?"

sister katherine nodded. "that is how being dead works, my love. we have to stay here while you go out gallivanting with your fancy man."

she stifled a laugh. "jake is not my fancy man. and neither is randy."

"whatever you say, cutie." rick winked. "and if you ever find yourself being undead in the walls of this house, give me a call and let me rock your world."

shaking her head with a laugh, she closed the front door behind her and headed over the grass to jake's house. he was waiting with two thermoses of hot chocolate and looked like he had just finished vacuuming the inside of his truck.

"good morning sunshine, let's go get you a clean bill of health!"

the wait to see the specialist was longer than the appointment. it lasted no longer than half an hour while the doctor took another brain scan and declared that there was absolutely nothing wrong with y/n aside from some superficial bruising to the skin on her forehead where she hit the steering wheel. jake insisted that her clean bill of health was worth celebrating, ushering her back into the truck and refusing to tell her where they were going.

"you know i'm a serving police officer, right? one call to captain stottlemeyer and there's a all points bulletin out on your truck."

jake laughed heartily. "i'm not kidnapping you, sweets. damn, you really don't like surprises."

"can't say i'm a fan."

minutes later, jake pulled off a secluded country road and into a parking lot lined in mulch. for a place that was so out of the way, the parking lot was packed to the brim and jake had to park the silverado what felt like miles away from the building itself. like a true gentleman, he helped her down from the truck's cab, one hand on the small of her back as they walked towards the large country store.

"a farmers market?" she giggled. "big bad hangman frequents farmer's markets?"

"how do you know my call sign?"

"you have it written on a metal sign in your garage."

jake winked at her, opening the heavy glass door. the country store was in a large refurbished barn, with the hayloft having been fully converted into a small cafe. his hand was warm through her cinnamon colored t-shirt as jake guided her towards the stairs to the cafe.

"do you like cinnamon buns?"

"of course i like cinnamon buns. who do you take me for?"

laughing to himself, jake had a large smile on his tanned face as he guided her towards a window seat. "make yourself comfy, sugar. i'll be right back."

she hated to see jake seresin leave, but she loved to watch him go, shamelessly watching the rippling muscles underneath his tight levis jeans.

he came back a few minutes later, two white china plates in hand, each one with a steaming warm cinnamon bun on top. as he passed her a plate, the cowboy made the bold claim that these were the best cinnamon buns in san francisco.

"i'll be the judge of that." yn said with a laugh, trying to pick up the sticky pastry in her hands in the most dainty way possible. the buns were large, mostly taking up the small plate.

"need a knife for that, sarge?"

"shut up, hangman."

"you know i outrank you, right?" jake joked, a sly look in his eyes.

she stuck her tongue out at the pilot, wishing she had a third hand so she could give him the finger. "bite me."

"all in due time, sugar."

she tried to hide the blush taking over her face, busying herself with taking the first bite of her pastry while she tried to ignore the images that jake's comment had conjured in her mind.

of course, the moan that she let out upon tasting the pastry did nothing to ease the sinful thoughts creeping into her mind. she could tell jake noticed, his breath momentarily catching in his throat despite the smile never breaking on his face.

"am i right or am i right?"

"fine." she playfully rolled her eyes. "you were beyond right. these are incredible!"

she beamed over at jake, wiping up some of the warm glaze on her chin that hadn't fully dried before she'd taken a bite. he was sitting across from her at the small table, and had yet to touch his cinnamon roll.

"you've got a little something..." he started, reaching a warm hand over the table to brush against her lips, wiping up some cinnamon that had been left behind.

her breath caught at the action, her eyes catching jake's blue ones. he truly was a beautiful man. time seemed to slow, jake's eyes slowly moving from her own to her lips and then back up again, her cheeks heating under his gaze.

"yn, can i kiss you?"

"yes."

he leaned over the table, gently rising from his wooden chair as he pressed his lips against hers. he was soft at first, almost apprehensive until she gripped his wrist where he was caressing her face, tilting her head back to give him a better angle and kiss him harder.

kissing jake seresin was everything she'd wanted it to be and more. if this was a movie, there would be fireworks going off behind them, and a sappy pop rock ballad playing as background music. perhaps something by lifehouse or matchbox twenty.

her lips felt sticky as jake pulled away, a goofy smile on both of their faces.

"you haven't touched your pastry." she said shyly.

jake grinned. "that's because you taste a lot nicer."

they stopped at the dealership on the way back, after having picked up the scrap money. yn test drove a volkswagen, fairly new with few miles on it. she decided to make it a point to come back within the end of the weekend, having already fallen in love with the little car. she felt like was, for lack of better words, walking on sunshine as jake pulled into his driveway, one of his large hands resting comfortably on her thigh.

he helped her down, looking forlornly over to her house, almost as if he'd enjoyed himself and didn't want the night to end.

"i have to go into work early tomorrow, and you've probabaly got heaps of work to do as well, so i'll let you get back to it." jake sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. "but, if you're up for it, i can stop by tomorrow and make you something for dinner?"

she smiled up at him, reaching to take his free hand in hers. "i'd love that." remembering her ghostly guests, she hesitated. "but maybe we could do it at your house instead?"

"i would like nothing more, sarge."

"good." she pressed up onto her tiptoes, kissing jake softly.

his hand snaked around her waist, slipping into the back pocket of her jeans as he deepened the kiss. she hummed contentedly, gently stroking his face with her thumb, hand resting on his cheek.

"i can't wait." she winked at him before she cut across her front lawn, backing towards her property. her southern gentlemen saluted her as she unlocked her front door, slipping inside the foyer.

"soooooooo." rick's familiar english drawl began. "how did things go with john wayne over there?"

and despite herself, yn was very much looking forward to sharing details of her budding romance with rick and sister katherine.

things were coming up roses for sargeant yn yln, and she was so excited to see what the future had in store.

#the cozy collection 2024 #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick x reader #top gun x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake seresin imagine #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fic

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 2 months ago

Text

Blue Flame - Rafe Cameron One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

Frat!Rafe x Reader x Reader’s Best Friend

(Rafe is interested in the reader romantically)

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 frat!rafe, swearing, name-calling, drinking, drug usage, pet names (daddy, doll, baby, babygirl etc, degradation, threesome, rough oral, teasing, throat fucking, cum play, oral receiving (female), public fondling, ownership kink if you squint, switch!rafe x dom!reader x dom female, spitting, Rafe is more interested in the reader than her friend

📖 Frat!Rafe x Reader x Reader’s friend based off of the lyrics from “Already Best Friends”. College student/former stripper reader has a crush on frat president Rafe. When she calls a buddy in, during a frat party, they have a little fun 💕

✨ “That’s right… And in an hour, you and I are gonna come back up here, and you’re gonna give me a private show. I want you to dance for me, y/n. Then, I’m gonna fuck you into the mattress.” ✨

3K <- mostly smut

🎶 She brought a buddy in

“What you studying?”

“Education, that’s where the money is.”

“You think you funny, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m the funniest.”

“So what about you?”

Her friend replied, “I don’t go to school.”

“Okay, what you do?”

“I’m a dancer, and quick question, are you a cancer?”

I said, “Hell nah, where you dance at?”

She said, “Blue flame, that shit be jam-packed.” 🎶

Cali: where are you, babe?

YN: outside come out here please

Cali: whats goin on

YN: hot tub

Cali: say less 💕

Cali: anyone out there with you?

YN: that guy 🤭 the one I was telling you abt. He’s out here

Cali: Rafe???

Cali: oh shit

YN: you wanna have a little fun

Cali: always ☺️

Reader’s POV:

“What are you two up to?” Cali asks as she walks across the deck toward the two of you. The hot tub had cleared out, leaving you and Rafe behind.

“Just smokin’, sweetheart’,” Rafe smiles, fishing out a joint from behind his ear.

“Wanna join?” You ask your bestie, who’s already stripping down to her bra and panties.

Cali chuckles and roll her eyes. “Obviously,” she breathes as she steps in, choosing a seat on the other side of you, putting you right in the middle. Rafe flicks his BIC, blazing up a joint before taking a haul. He releases his smoke up high, puffing once more before passing it to her.

Cali accepts, taking it between her plush lips. She rips the weed, letting the smoke pour from her mouth. “This is good shit,” she smiles, eyeing it between her fingers before shifting her emerald-green gaze your way. “Well, thanks for the invite, y/n; I hope I’m not interrupting. The two of you look pretty comfy.”

“Oh, please… I invited you, baby,” you smile, picking the joint off her fingers.

”‘Course… Shit. The more the merrier,“ Rafe adds, his voice already raspy from the smoke. “And, this is my shit… It better be fuckin’ good.” He eyes the fat joint in his large fingers, his gold ring shining bright.

“Smokin’ out of your own stash?” You tease, sliding a little closer to Rafe than you already were. His eyes drift from your lips to your chest; your Calvin Klein bra almost entirely see-through, giving him a tease. You smile even wider when his next couple words get stuck on his lips.

“Umm… Quality control?” He grins, his hazed blue eyes matching yours again, giving you butterflies. “I’m Rafe, by the way.” His focus shifts to Cali.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Rafe. I’m Cali. So, you run this place. Huh?” She chuckles lightly, swirling her finger around, gesturing to the party raging around you.

“Yeah… I’m the president-”

“Ooooh, fancy,” she adds, teasing him playfully as he drops his position in the house. Rafe smiles and shakes his head, looking away for a moment to collect himself, then back to you again.

“Hey, you asked. Aight? I wasn’t gonna drop titles.” He takes off his hat, brushing his wet hand through his dirty blonde hair before putting it back on. You swoon, seeing more of his handsome face: a chiseled jawline, perfect lips, and just the right amount of stubble. Cali squeezes your thigh, either catching you gawking or agreeing with you; this man is fucking fine.

“So, Y/n, what are you studying?” Rafe asks between sips of beer, looking your way. “I don’t think I ever asked – I mean, obviously we’re in that Comm class together. Is that your major?” You shake your head ‘no’. “Lemme guess then, yeah?” He looks at you, joint pinched between his lips, doing his best to get a read off you. “Education?”

You gasp and smile, “Mhmm… Education.”

“Heard that’s where the money is,” he teases, his smile widening as he sees your reaction. Rafe lifts the joint up high as you splash him with a little water, flirtingly.

“Well, what’s your major than, frat boy? Communications?”

“Nah, princess. I actually wanna make money one day.”

“You think you’re funny. Huh?”

“M’the funniest,” Rafe chuckles raspily before taking another hit, passing it to you.

“I’m sure you are, prez,” you challenge him as you lean in close — really fuckin’ close. Your mind starts to race along with your heart as you find yourself closer than you’ve ever been before, barely clothed, and soaking wet. “Well, let me guess now… Finance?”

Rafe shakes his head ‘no’ and smiles, “International Business.”

Cali looks over at you, eyes doubling as she sees your damp bra, joining the conversation again. “Fuck, bitch.” She reaches out, giving your tits a playful squeeze. “You look good, baby. Doesn’t she look good?” Cali asks, playing wingwoman as she looks over at Rafe with a smirk of approval for the man of your desires, his eyes never having left you in the first place.

“So fuckin’ good,” he smiles. You rest the joint on Cali’s lips with a smile. “So, what about you? What’s your major, Cali?”

“I don’t go to school,” she breathes through her exhale. “College is not for me.”

“Okay – okay, what do you do,” Rafe questions as he stretches his arm behind your shoulders, shifting even closer. You smile up at him, seating your hand on his thigh, making him bite his lip to fight back a smile.

“I’m a dancer – I work at Blue Flame downtown,” she adds. “This one did, too, before she declared her major. Fuckin’ bitch,” Cali bullies, flicking some water in your face in protest for leaving her behind for a higher education. “It’s not the same without you.”

“I miss it, honestly.”

“Guess you’ll just have to dance for your man instead.” Rafe’s mood shifts instantly, making Cali rush to assure him. “She doesn’t have a man. Her future man, Cameron. I’m sorry, baby. You looked like you were about to cry.”

“C’mon now,” Rafe snorts and laughs as Cali continues to give him shit. “I mean, yeah, I got a little disappointed. Can you blame me?”

“Not at all… She’s perfect. She’s my better half. Truly.”

You lean in, giving her a quick, playful kiss. “Love you, baby.”

“Shit, so you two are really close. Huh? I didn’t see you walk in with anybody. Better half? So, are you like dating or something?” Rafe asks, his curiosity peaked.

“Just besties,” you answer, with a giggle that has Cali joining in, falling onto your lap. Rafe cocks an eyebrow, clearly liking what he’s sees. Cali breaks the pattern of the smoke circle, passing the weed back to you. She straddles your lap, chest to chest with you. You take the weed between your lips, taking a hit. Cali leans in, the aroma of her vanilla perfume engulfing you as she moves closer, holding back just enough, letting you lean in the rest of the way. Your lips hover within mere centimeters of hers, casting smoke into her parted lips. She inhales without hesitation, taking it all. Her darkened eyes drift open, matching yours, the two of you putting on a show for Rafe.

”Well, fuck…” Rafe huffs. “So, uh… umm. Holy shit. What are – what are the two of you up to tonight?“ Rafe fumbles over his words again, too distracted with how pretty the two of you look together, his fantasies running wild. Cali shifts back, retaking a seat, the whole situation leaving you craving more. More of her, more of Rafe’s eyes on you. It’s the perfect storm. You look up at him, smiling, baiting him into the exchange as well.

“We can stay in here if you’d like, baby.”

“I mean, we don’t have to stay in here,” he answers hastily.

“Yeah? N’what do you want, Cameron?”

“Seems like you got somethin’ on your mind, prez,” Cali adds.

“Yeah, I got a few things on my mind,” he smirks. Rafe reaches over, resting the joint between your lips. You shut your eyes, relaxing as you toke nice and slow. Rafe’s large hand rests on your thigh. You place yours on top, guiding him in between your thighs. You repeat the same process with Rafe, his lips ghosting over the top of yours, accepting the shot. He stalls for a moment, just enough time to exhale. The next second, Rafe’s lips collide with yours, making you moan into his mouth when he cups your pussy. “This okay?” Rafe murmurs against your lips.

“Yeah,” you pant. He turns his eyes to Cali, posing the same question.

“Yes – Shit,” she answers, giddily.

“Can I?” Rafe asks, switching his eyes to her and back to you. “S’Okay if I kiss, Cali? I just – I was gettin’ this vibe that you liked me-”

“I do,” you stop him fast. “I like you… I like this, too,” you smile sweetly. “Let’s have a little fun tonight. We can talk about it later. Yeah?”

“Fuck, princess. Yeah – Damn… Whatever you want. I’m down.”

Rafe pulls Cali in by the waist, pressing his lips against hers. A smile stretches across your lips as you eye the placement of his hand, still reaching for you, not wanting to lose contact.

”Do you want to…“

“Come to your room?” Cali finished his sentence.

“Mhmm.”

“Please…” You sigh dreamily as your fingernails lightly scratch his clothed cockhead, his dick rock-hard underneath.

“Holy shit,” Rafe groans. “Let’s get outta here. Yeah?” He asks as he takes off his snapback, standing up carefully, covering his hard-on with his cap. Water drips off his muscular body, as he steps out of the warm tub. He slides on his Champion sweatshorts, tugging on a faded frat t-shirt. Rafe helps you out of the tub, doing his best not to gawk as he grabs your dry clothes off the ground. You turn toward Cali, pawing the water out of your hair, ass swallowing up your wet thong. You tug your sundress over your wet curves. Rafe pulls you in by your waist as Cali puts her garments back on. He leans down, kissing you nice and slow. “M’gettin’ your number after this. I’m serious. Are you free tomorrow night?”

You smile as you rise on your tippy toes, meeting his lip for another kiss. “I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I. Shittt… Let’s have a little fun. Yeah?”

The man’s already on cloud nine and all you did was kiss. You twine your fingers in Cali’s as Rafe leads you to his bedroom before shutting the door. You look back at Rafe, his lust-blown pupils locked on you. He’s soaking in this moment, studying the two of you carefully, taking into memory each detail.

Your tongue slips between Cali’s lips, swirling with hers. “Think your boy wants to watch for a bit,” Cali mumbles between kisses. Rafe continues to stare as he walks backward, feeling for a chair. The two of you strip off your dresses again. You crawl back onto the mattress as Cali slinks toward you, making your heart race. Cali lowers herself on top of you, kissing you deeply as your fingers rake into her hair.

Your head rolls to the side, meeting Rafe’s eyes as he palms himself through his sweats. Fuck, I wanna see his cock. “Co’mere. Please…” He begs, thinking he could wait but getting too impatient. Lucky me. You reach for the hem of his shirt, practically ripping the tee off his big frame as Cali watches on. Resting your hands on his chest, you push him back down to sit. He looks up wide-eyed, waiting for you to set the pace. Cali meets his lips; their kiss, messy and rushed, mouthwatering nonetheless, conjuring up something animalistic inside you.

You fall to your knees, slotting yourself between his big thighs. Rafe’s gold chain glints with every quick breath as Cali’s nails dig into his broad chest. Your hands drift lower and lower, goosebumps spreading across his tanned skin. You skim your fingers over the divots of his abs, following a slight trail of hair working below the waistband of his Champions. His hardened cock is aching to be freed, confined in his tight boxer briefs. A desperate moan from Cali snaps you out of your daze. You finger the waistband of his shorts, drawing all eyes to you again.

You push his sweats down his thighs, quickly tugging at his black briefs. Cali can’t help but pull back watching his dick swings out, smacking just below his belly button. Her eyes double, just as surprised as you at the sheer size of his cock. “Fuck, daddy,” she mumbles, returning her lips to his, the two of them kissing feverishly as their tongues battle for dominance.

You take hold of his thick dick, making Cali swallow his moan. Flattening your tongue, you glide it along his cock, catching the precum rolling slowly down the side. Rafe pulls away from their kiss, looking at you out of the corner of his eye, more interested in the attention you’re paying below than Cali’s lips on him.

Sinking down, you take as much of Rafe as you can, his fat cockhead pressing against the back of your throat, making you gag. You swirl slowly to his tip, watching his eyes roll back into his skull. Rafe’s gaze returns to yours, Cali’s full lips marking his thick neck as you suckle on his throbbing tip. You start to bob fast, watching Rafe’s toes curl. Cali’s nails scratch lightly through your hair, taking hold of the back of your head. She guides you, using your mouth to stroke Rafe’s cock as she praises you, your trained mouth drawing out moan after moan from him.

Cali’s hand slips out of your hair, moving between her legs. She pushes aside her wet lace panties, head falling onto Rafe’s shoulder as she runs soft circles on her pussy. You pull off his cock, spitting lewdly before taking him back in your fist, pumping Rafe for all he’s worth. “You want him to help you, Cals?”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, just the sheer request making his cock twitch in your palm. His fingers quickly replace hers, earning a needy moan as his skilled hand works its magic. You grab Cali’s wrist, taking her fingers between your lips, sucking hard. “Y/n…” Rafe hails, watching you in awe as you taste her on your tongue.

“So sweet,” you mumble. Rafe swallows thickly, doing his best to hold back pleasure as you continue to pump, lowering your lips to his cock again.

“Shit… I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” Cali whimpers.

“Me either,” Rafe moans. ”Fuck, baby. Suck my fuckin’ dick, y/n.” You wrap your lips around his head, hollowing your cheeks, making the muscles in his thighs tremble under your hands. Cali’s about to burst, back arching, eyes fighting to stay locked on you.

“Oh, Rafe… Just like that,” she cries as she throws her head back. The slick sounds of her cunt fill the room, along with Rafe’s moaning and panting breaths. Rafe grabs your head; hips pitching as he cums in spurts. You’re calculated with his climax, focusing on letting his seed pool on your tongue.

You stick it out showing Rafe his sticky spent before leaning into Cali, spitting it into her mouth. “Fuck me,” he moans, throwing his head back on the coach. His arms lay in exhaustion by his side, the most satisfied, blissful smile on his lips. “Best night of my fuckin’ life,” he pants as he returns his eyes to you. Rafe runs his thumb along your chin, catching the rest of his cum, before stuffing it in your mouth, letting you suck it off. Rafe presses down, parting your lips, spitting inside. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into with me, princess. You know you’re mine now. Yeah?” He smiles as he hooks his finger under your chin, closing your mouth, watching you swallow. “Your turn.”

Cali reaches around you, lifting your bra, letting your boobs bounce free. Rafe grabs your tits in his large hands as you watch his half-hard cock stiffen again. Rafe takes you swiftly into his strong arms, kissing you passionately as you reach the mattress. “Just pretend like I’m not here. Wanna watch you eat her pussy,” Cali whispers through a mischievous smile, crawling on the bed.

“That was the sexiest shit I have ever fuckin’ seen, Y/n, you… I have no words,” he mumbles between kisses.

“Yeah? You liked that?” You giggle breathily as Rafe smile stretches against lips.

“Loved it, sweetheart.” He tosses you down on the bed, watching with an insatiable thirst as your breasts bounce, mounting you fast. His warm tongue swirls your nipple, sucking and flicking your sensitive skin, making you moan and cry for more. Rafe works lower on your body, his eyes not lesving you. You lie back on the mattress, propping yourself up on your elbows between Cali’s thighs. She looks down at you, leaning in for a kiss. Rafe’s rough fingers draw up your skin, setting your body ablaze as they drift between your thighs. “So soaked, baby. Goddamn… Makin’ a mess already.”

Rafe touches your panties, making you gasp into your kiss as you feel the chilled sensation against your warmth. He releases a deep, sinful laugh, sending chills down your spine. You lift your hips as he hooks his fingers around the cotton band of your thong, pulling it down your thighs. Rafe grabs your legs, spreading them open, pressing your thighs into the mattress. “Bet you can’t wait to fuck her pussy-”

“Can’t fuckin’ wait,” he cuts Cali short. You can feel her soft touch, ghosting circles around your nipples, your pliant skin hardening under her touch as Rafe dips his thick fingers between your folds, spreading your slick.

“You’re so wet…” Cali praises. “Bet you could make a mess of Rafe’s cock, y/n.”

“Bet I could… Maybe he’ll let me clean him off when we’re done,” you smile.

“He said tomorrow, princess, after your little date. Or, does that greedy little cunt of yours need to be filled tonight, y/n?”

“You two are gonna kill me,” Rafe mumbles. His pleasure alone, enough to send you over the edge, embarrassingly close, feeding off of his high. You feel yourself dripping, Rafe’s tongue quickly laps up the mess between your thighs.

“Yes, daddy. Shit-” You sigh, unable to form the rest of your words as his lips lock down on your puffy clit. Cali’s small hands grab as much of your breasts as she can, pressing them together for him, tweaking and rolling your nipples as Rafe watches, longingly, moaning into your pussy at the sight of her toying with your tits. Rafe starts to rock his cock into the mattress, craving friction, dreaming about the nasty shit Cali was teasing him with.

Rafe takes you by surprise, looping his big arms around your thighs, pulling you close. He licks a fat stripe from your hole to your sensitive bud, making you cry out in pleasure. Rafe darts and flicks his tongue, watching you twitch and whine beneath him. The chill of his rings hits the heat of your inner thigh, working higher and higher, making your eyes roll back. Rafe slaps your drenched pussy, making tears gather in your eyes before doing it again. Your pleasure builds as he thrusts two long fingers into your soaked pussy, setting a fast gait, making your thighs quake uncontrollably.

He spits on your clit, working the pads of his fingers rapidly over your bundle of nerves, circling his tongue through your cunt, tongue-fucking you as you plead for your release. “Make me cum, Rafe. Fuck. M’right there,” you whimper. He buries himself between your thighs, suffocating himself in your drenched pussy. “Yes!” You let out a choked cry.

“Cum for us, sweetheart,” Rafe moans against your sex; the vibrations of his low voice sends you over the edge, straight into ecstasy. You scream his name, knitting your fingers in his hair as you hold him close. Rafe continues to please you through your orgasm as your release drips from your pussy, wetting his sheets below. “Good girl… S’good. Look at that mess, Cali,” he rasps. “She a dirty fuckin’ slut. Huh? Just perfect f’me.” Your eyes flutter open on his. Rafe quickly takes purchase of your lips, kissing you deeply as you do your best to catch your breath. “Shit, princess… I don’t think I can wait.”

“You can’t wait, baby?”

“No… No I can’t.”

“Mmm… What about tomorrow?” You tease.

“Unless you stand me up it’s happening. But this party is gonna clear out in an hour. Everyone’s gonna leave for the night, and it’ll be just you and me.” You smile up at Cali, your bestie matching your energy as Rafe continues to grind into you nice and slow, mumbling into your ear. “I’m gonna treat you like a fuckin’ slut tonight but you gotta know I’m serious. I wanna get to know you too.”

“Okay,” you giggle happily, making Cali cover her mouth to conceal her squeal of excitement for you.

“Am I your man, baby?”

“You’re my man,” you coo, cuddling into him as you wrap your arms around his trim waist.

“That’s right… And in an hour, you and I are gonna come back up here, and you’re gonna give me a private show. I want you to dance for me, y/n. Then, I’m gonna fuck you into the mattress.”

You smile, as your fingers trace up his back, scratching into his hair. “You promise?”

Rafe chuckles deeply against the warmth of your neck, his swollen tip teasing your soaked hole, doing everything but pushing inside. “I’m gonna ruin you princess.”

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wh0re43van · 11 months ago

Text

Boyfriend Pt 2 (Warren Lipka x Reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend catches Warren being a little too friendly with you, causing a fight to break out. Warren expresses that he wants to be more than a secret booty call.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: smut, violence (not really directed at reader), blood, weed

Pt 1 , Pt 3

I wake up to my cell phone buzzing on Dakota’s nightstand. I groan, throwing the unconscious boy off me as I roll over to grab the small rectangle of plastic. I check the digital alarm clock.

2:35 in the morning. Who the fuck is calling me?

My stomach flips when I see Warrens name lighting up on my phone. I run out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

“Hey,” I whisper. “Warren it’s 2:30 in the morning,” I giggle quietly as I lock the door.

“I know, I know,” he laughs. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about you,” I hear the bong bubbling in the background. My cheeks burn red. “I just got some crazy bud if you wanna come smoke,” I can hear his smirk through the phone. “I can pick you up,” he offers. I smile at his extremely tempting offer.

“I can’t,” I sigh, disappointing both Warren and myself. “I’m at Dakotas. He’ll wake up and I already agreed to drive him to the gaming store first thing in morning,” I explain. He’s silent for a moment.

“Alright,” I can hear frustration in his voice. “Yeah, I’m the side piece, I forgot,” he scoffs. My heart sinks.

“Warren, I’m sorry,” I want to cry.

“No,” he sighs. “I understand I guess. I will see you soon though,” he says calmly.

“Of course,” I sigh in relief that he still wants to see me.

“I’ll see you around, beautiful,” he says, then the line goes dead. I delete the recent call before crawling back into bed, but I’m unable to sleep. I miss Warrens voice so much. I kick myself for not accept his offer as I toss and turn for the rest of the night.

•

The next afternoon, I sit across from Dakota in a small local diner, playing with the spoon sticking out of my coffee mug as he talks on his cellphone to one of his friends about a football game or something, I’m not too sure honestly. I’m not really listening.

A car door slams catching my attention. I look out the condensation covered window next to our booth to see Warren and a guy I’ve never seen before step out of a vehicle. My eyes light up.

“I’m gonna go smoke a cig real quick,” I sputter in one breath, taking my pack of Camels and running out the door before Dakota even responds. I walk up behind warren without him seeing me, as he talks to the other guy getting out of the car.

“Got a light?” I ask, popping a menthol in my mouth as I smile from ear to ear, tapping his shoulder. He turns around with his eyebrows threaded in confusion, but immediately matches my expression as soon as he sees me.

“Y/n,” he pulls me into a hug. “Spencer gimme your lighter,” he demands the other guy. He tosses a blue bic lighter to Warren.

“Who’s-“ Spencer begins to ask.

“Just go get us a seat, man,” Warren cuts him off. The awkward boy walks away quietly. Warren turns back to me, his grin returning as he lights the menthol cigarette between my lips.

“Thanks,” I smile, feeling butterflies in my stomach as he watches me remove the cigarette from my lips, exhaling the smoke.

“Mind if I bum one? Spencer locked mine in his car,” he motions to the pack of Newports trapped on the passenger seat. I giggle, handing him a cig.

“You here by yourself?” he asks as the orange flame from the lighter lights up his face and reflects an auburn glow in his dark eyes.

“Uh, no, actually,” I take another drag, motioning my cigarette towards the window of the dinner. Warren tuns to see Dakota talking on his phone, still unaware of my departure.

“Oh,” his grin faulters.

“I’m, uhm, free after this though,” I offer. Just like that, his dimples have returned.

“I have some stuff to go over with Spencer,” he throws his thumb over his shoulder in reference to the awkward boy in dinner, then ashes his cigarette. “But I’m free tonight,” he stares into my eyes. I can’t contain the huge grin plastered on my face. Warren reaches his free hand out to slowly release some loose strands of my hair that the wind blew into my lip gloss. His hand lingers on my face, we lock gazes as his thumb caresses my cheek, I close my eyes and lean into his touch.

“What the fuck are you doing with my girl, man?” Dakota shouts, quickly approaching Warren. He swiftly turns around to face my angry boyfriend.

“Just calm down man. I wasn’t-“ Warren laughs, tossing his cigarette on the ground, but Dakota cuts him off by shoving his chest, hard. He doesn’t budge, but easily retaliates the gesture, sending Dakota stumbling backwards a foot or two. I know it’s wrong, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say its insanely hot watching Warren get angry.

“Keep your hands off me, douchebag or ill kick your ass right here in front of your girl,” he spits in Dakotas face, literally. Dakota looks at me, wiping Warrens’ saliva off his face, then quickly hits Warren with a right hook. Warren’s head snaps to the side with the loud thud of knuckles on skin. Warren looks back at Dakota in shock, wiping the small trickle of blood from his nose. I watch completely stunned, even though I want to stop them, I can’t move. This all happened so fast.

“You hit like a pussy,” Warren chuckles before uppercutting Dakota so hard that his neck cracks as his head flies backward. I snap out of my haze, running over to Dakota as he steadies himself. I grab his arm in attempt to help him.

“Come on, Dakota let’s just go,” I plead, not wanting to watch him get his ass laid out on the frozen pavement.

“Get off me, bitch!” he screams, back handing me, not taking his eyes off Warren. I grab my cheek, about to cuss him out when Warren takes Dakotas collar into his fists, shoving him against Spencer’s car. Warren grabs his throat, holding his head steady, so his already bruised knuckles can strike as hard as possible against Dakota’s jaw. Blood immediately pours out of his busted lip.

“Don’t fucking talk to y/n like that!” he screams, just inches from my boyfriend’s face. The veins popping out of his neck, his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping onto Dakota. Warren spits the blood that’s dripped from his nose between his lips into Dakota’s face. “Does that make you feel strong, pussy boy? Huh? You feel like man when you bitch slap your girlfriend?” he growls, his fist contacting Dakotas abdomen this time, knocking wind out of him, leaving my boyfriend wheezing.

When Warren screams that last phrase, that’s when I realize; Dakota is fighting for his masculinity, Warren’s fighting for me. I turn on my heels to run inside the dinner, finding the boy that Warren arrived with.

“Spencer, right?” I ask out of breath. He nods his head, confused. “Warrens beating the shit out of my boyfriend, I need you to help me stop him before he kills him,” I explain breathlessly.

“Oh,” Spencer says processing what I’m saying. “Oh my- Oh my god!” He jumps from the seat, running out the door with me.

“Warren, dude come on, you’re gonna get arrested!” Spencer shouts, cautiously approaching the scuffling boys. It seems like this isn’t the first time Spencer has witnessed this. It appears that Dakota managed to get another hit or two in, because Warrens eyebrow appears busted and they’re on the ground now, a small pool of blood forming on the frosted pavement underneath Dakota.

“Fuck off, Spence,” Warren growls about to strike again.

“Please Warren! You’re gonna kill him!” I shriek. Warren pauses, Spencer takes the opportunity to pull Warren off Dakota. I run over to my boyfriend, trying to help him up.

“Get off of me you stupid bitch!” Dakota shouts, slapping me off him as he tries to stand on his shaky legs.

“Hey!” Warren shouts in the background, Spencer holds him back again.

“Dakota, please. You need help,” I plead feeling bad for him.

“This is your fault! If you weren’t out here whoring it up with this clown, this wouldn’t have happened,” he screams in my face, blood dripping from multiple different wounds on his face, his nose already purple.

“Just let me drive you home,” I sigh, feeling less guilty since he had the audacity to call me a whore, when he slept with my cousin in my own car two months ago. Actually, after remembering that, I don’t feel bad for him at all anymore.

“No! I’m walking! Fuck off! And fuck all of you! You too Spencer!” he shouts as he limps away, holding his stomach.

I guess spencer was the mutual friend.

I turn to see Warren leaning against Spencer’s car, smoking one of his Newports.

“What did I do?” I hear spencer ask, I ignore him.

“Warren I’m so-“ my eyes well up with tears, my cheek still stinging as the cold wind blows against the hand print on my face.

“Come here, are you okay?” He pulls me into a quick hug then examines my cheek. Placing a bloody hand on my cheek.

“Of course I’m fine,” I sigh grabbing his face. “Look at you,” I frown, putting a gentle hand on his face. He winces against my touch. His bottom lip and right eyebrow are both busted. There’s blood coming from his nose, flowing over his lips and onto his chin. His right cheek is bright red and swollen.

“You should see the other guy,” he chuckles, popping the cigarette back into his mouth. How can he joke at a time like this. Nevertheless, I laugh lightly, shaking my head.

“Let me get you cleaned up,” I offer.

“I’ll go get your keys and stuff,” he smiles.

“No, Warren, I can get them. Just stay here,” I dash back into the dinner, everyone giving me weird looks. I smile awkwardly, throwing a 10 down on the table, then run back to the boys, the bells on the doors jingling loudly behind me.

“Okay, come on,” I take Warrens hand.

“Should, uh, should I just go home then?” Spencer asks awkwardly with his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, Spence. Get the fuck out of here,” Warren dismisses him, half joking with the timid boy. I can tell that their friendship has an interesting dynamic.

•

“Thank god my folks ain’t here,” Warren sighs as he unlocks his front door, allowing me to enter the home first.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” I ask looking around the house, which is becoming a familiar scene.

“I’ll grab it, just head down to my room,” he says motioning to the basement door as he walks up the carpet steps. I obey, making my way to his bedroom.

I sit down on his couch, a few moments later, Warren enters with the first aid kit.

“Is the worst of it on your face?” I ask the mangled boy in front of me as I pop the plastic box open. He winces as he pulls his black t-shirt up and over his head. He turns around to reveal a nasty patch of road rash stretching from his spine over to his left shoulder. “Oh, Warren,” I gasp, sadness in my voice. I feel horrible for him. He sits down on the couch next to me.

“He got the best of me for about four seconds, but it was enough to fuck my back up pretty bad,” he laughs. Somehow still smiling even though he’s covered in dried blood-most of it not his- and his lip is busted.

“I’m sorry about that, Warren. I should have just stayed in the diner,” I shake my head as I open a gauze pad and grab the rubbing alcohol.

“But if you’d done that, you wouldn’t be sitting in my room right now,” he grins, but winces a bit. It probably hurts to smile; His cheek is bruised pretty bad.

“Yeah, but at least you wouldn’t be in pain,” I say as I pour the strong smelling alcohol onto the gauze.

“Worth it,” he smirks, resting his busted knuckles on my thigh.

“This is gonna sting,” I say, taking a deep breath. He nods, closing his eyes. I press the alcohol soaked cotton onto his split eyebrow.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts through gritted teeth, squeezing my thigh.

“I know, I know,” I pat the wound a couple more times before removing it. “I’m sorry,” I dampen another gauze pad, moving to his lip. He hisses again but allows me to clean the gash. Finally, I have him stand and turn so I can clean his shoulder. I can’t help but admire his back, running my fingers gently over the undamaged skin, leaving goosebumps behind every trace. The room is quiet, just the faint buzz of the dim overhead lights and Warrens breathing.

“Does it look bad?” he breaks the silence, looking at me over his shoulder.

“No, uh,” I clear my throat. “Sorry just uhm,” I clumsily grab a new cotton pad and the alcohol, naturally spilling it a bit, embarrassed that he caught me staring. “No, it’s not too bad,” I say as I fumble with the cotton.

“Why are you so nervous all the-“ he laughs, then I push the alcohol to his cuts. “Shit! Fuck, Y/n warn me next time!” he shouts. I wince at his loud tone as all the muscles in his back tense. I pull away, tears begin to form in my eyes. The past hour has been so stressful and him raising his voice sent me over the edge. I know he didn’t mean anything by it, that I just caught him off guard, but I can’t help how my body responded.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he quickly turns around, seemingly forgetting about the pain, bringing me into a tight hug as a couple tears roll down my cheeks. “I didn’t mean-“

“I know,” I smile up at him as he wipes the stray tear from my face. He looks so pretty, even when he’s doused in dried blood and half his face is bruised. “I’m sorry, I’m just stressed… I really need to smoke,” I sigh.

“Ditto,” he agrees, pulling away. “I’m gonna shower real quick. If you could, would you grab me the icepacks out of the freezer in the kitchen? Then I’ll bust out the bong,” he winks as he walks towards the bathroom in just his blood stained jeans. I smile and nod, then turn to walk up the steps.

•

After locating the ice packs, I run to my car to grab my weed. I go back inside, making my way to the steps, hearing a The Offspring cd playing as I descend into the basement. I see Warren already sitting on the couch, wearing nothing but a towel, his damp dark hair stuck to his forehead.

“Hey beautiful, what took so long?” he asks as I take a seat next to him.

“Oh, I ran out to my car to grab my bud so I could match you,” I explain as I set the jar on the table, then I hold an ice pack to his cheek. “You poor thing,” I sigh. He looks much better now that he’s cleaned up, but now I can see the wounds for what they really are.

“Come on y/n, you know I’m not gonna let you match me,” he laughs, continuing to break up the weed.

“Warren, I insist. I already feel bad enough that I got you into a fight,” I open the jar, but he snatches it out of my hand.

“No,” he says sternly, looking into my eyes. “And don’t say that. You had nothing to do with the fight, that dumbass came out swinging and disrespecting you. That’s all on him,” he says seriously. I just nod, a bit intimidated by his stern tone. He grabs the lighter and the bong handing it to me,

“Ladies first,” he winks, the mood much lighter now. He takes the icepack into his own hand so I can hit the bong. He watches me as I take a big hit. The warm smoke filling my lungs quickly. I blow the milky smoke towards the ceiling, as I sink into the couch.

“What?” I giggle when I realize that Warrens still watching me.

“You’re just so pretty, I never want to take my eyes off of you,” he smiles, setting the icepack down to take the glass out of my hand, pulling a huge hit. I see his muscles relax almost instantly.

“You’re pretty too,” I chuckle, taking one more hit. It doesn’t take long to feel the effects, I feel light but heavy at the same time; like I’m floating, but my limbs are too dense to move. This is one of my favorite feelings in the world.

“I was, until I got my face banged up,” he frowns, putting his mouth to the opening of the bong.

“I don’t think it’s a bad look,” I say honestly. “I know you’re in pain, but you do look pretty badass. It’s kinda sexy actually,” I giggle, the THC clouding my brain doesn’t allow me to keep that last thought to myself. Warrens ears perk up at the word ‘sexy’. He sets the bong down, scooching closer to me, the towel wrapped around his toned torso falls a bit, exposing his V-line and a bit of brown hair right below it. The sight makes me moan internally.

“Is that so?” he smirks, his face coming closer to me.

“Mhm,” I smile, bringing my hand up to feel his bare chest. He hovers above me as I lay heavy in between the couch cushions. “Even sexier than normal,” I smile, looking at him through lidded eyes. Warren leans down, pressing his busted lip against mine, I kiss back gently.

“I’ve missed your lips,” he smiles, resting his forehead against mine.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” I ask, cupping his uninjured cheek in my hand.

“Nah, you fixed me up real good Doc,” he chuckles. “Plus, I’m pretty stoned right now. As they say, weed’s the best medicine,” he says bringing me into another kiss. I melt completely into him; This is all I’ve craved in the two weeks it’s been since I’ve seen him last.

“I’ve missed you so much, Warren,” I admit into the kiss.

“Lay down darling, I owe you for fixin’ me up,” he says helping me turn to lay down the couch.

“Warren, you should just take it easy, baby. You’ve been through a lot,” I rub my hand up and down his arm, over his silly tattoo. He smiles at the pet name, reaching for the waistband of my pants.

“I am taking it easy, beautiful. Weed might be the best medicine, but you’re a close second,” he smirks, taking my pants and underwear off in one swoop, making my stomach flip. I’m almost ashamed of how easily I become puddy in his hands. “Mmm, so pretty,” he gently runs his hands up my thighs as I spread my legs for him, he doesn’t even have to ask. I’m always ready for him.

“Warren you really don’t have-“ he places a quick kiss on lips.

“Shh, I don’t wanna hear you speak unless you’re moaning my name, okay, beautiful,” he says gently but sternly, a small smile plastered on his face. I can’t help but giggle as excitement courses through my body. I simply nod my head ‘yes’.

He slides down my body admiring me in all my glory. He gently slides a finger over my heat, watching me intently.

“Sucha pretty girl,” he coos as he settles his head between my legs. He wraps his arms around my thighs, holding them open as he begins licking at my clit, quickly earning a moan of approval from me. He gently sticks a finger inside of me as he continues working on my nub. “Does that feel good baby,” he asks against my core.

“Mhm,” I moan out, bringing a hand to hold onto his damp hair. The amount of weed in my system amplifies the pleasure by 100. He sucks gently on my bundle of nerves as his finger pumps into me, curling perfectly.

“Fuck warren,” I pant, curling my toes, my breath becomes shallow. He continues his steady pace, the pleasure winding in my stomach begging for release. I begin grinding against his face, begging for more contact as his tongue works expertly against me. He moans against my sensitive skin, sending chills down my spine.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” I come undone, gripping hard onto his hair as my hips continue to grind into his face, covering him in my release. He pulls away proudly, licking his fingers as I try to catch my breath.

“You taste just as good as you look,” he winks making me blush. He sighs happily, before grabbing the bong, taking another hit.

“That’s all I get?” I ask as he passes me the glass. He looks at me confused. I take a quick hit- not worried about the weed, I want him inside of me. I reach over, further removing the loosely draped towel covering his torso, revealing his erection.

“I was treating you, baby,” he laughs, “but if you insist,” he lays me back down on the couch once again as he presses a gentle kiss to my lips. He gives himself a couple pumps before lining himself into me, those dark bloodshot eyes gazing into mine makes my heart skip a beat.

“Fuck, I love how you stretch me out,” I moan as he pushes into me, a proud smirk appears on his bruised face.

“You feel so good, beautiful,” he grunts, grabbing my hips as he begins to thrust in and out of me. He’s so deep; I swear I can feel him poking my stomach.

“You fuck me so good warren, faster, please,” I whine, begging for more. I’m defenseless against him, the amount of pleasure he brings me is inhuman. He obeys, fucking me faster and deeper. I wrap my legs around him as he leans down, placing a sloppy kiss to my lips. “I want you to cum in me warren,” I pant against his lips, his eyes go wide. “I’m on the pill,” I giggle. “Please Warren I want to feel you cum inside me, I’ve never let anyone else do it, please,” I beg. His eyes cloud with even more lust, something I didn’t think was possible. He groans, sitting up so he can pull my hips flush against his with every thrust. He brings one hand down to play with my bundle of nerves, I’m unable to contain my noises of pleasure, moaning out his name.

“Fuck,” he groans lowly to himself as he rocks his hips into me. “Who’s pussy is this?” he asks in a deep growl, goosebumps appear on my skin. “Y/n, who’s fucking pussy is this?” he asks again as he thrusts hard hitting my g-spot perfectly.

“Fuck!” I scream. “Yours! It’s all yours Warren,” I pant desperately, my tone that of one you’d hear in a cheesy porno. His possessiveness and the way he’s hitting the deepest parts of me mixed with the weed brings me to my second orgasm of the night.

“That’s fucking right,” he growls, grabbing my face. My walls clench around him as his powerful thrusts become sloppy. I scream out his name, euphoria enveloping me as he shoots his cum deep inside me, I’ve never experienced anything as erotic as him fucking his seed into me as it leaks out of my throbbing cunt onto his couch. Warren pulls out reluctantly, his legs visibly shaking. I lay limp in the same spot, trying to steady my breathing and stop my own legs from shaking.

“Are you okay?” he laughs helping me sit up.

“Yeah,” I giggle. “I’ve just never been fucked like-“ I stop when I see his lip gushing blood. “Warren, baby, your lips bleeding again,” I stand up quickly to find the gauze, I ignore his cum that begins to run down my thigh.

“Leave it” he waves his hand, laying back on the couch. “I feel too good to care,” he laughs. “Come lay with me,” he pats the couch. I pick up an alcohol soaked cotton pad, then sit next to him.

“Let me clean this first,” I say. He nods reluctantly, hissing as the pad hits his lip. The bleeding stops soon. “You need to put some antibacterial ointment on that. Mouth abrasions can get infected really easily,” I begin to explain.

“You should break up with your boyfriend,” he blurts out. I don’t think he was listening to anything I said. He stares at me nervously awaiting my response.

“I know I should,” I sigh, he reaches over to the coffee table handing me my phone. “What? Now?” I ask shocked. He nods his head.

“I want you to be mine, all mine. I can’t go another two weeks without seeing you, having you too busy with that douche to see me, and I sure as fuck don’t want anyone else touching you like I just did,” he pours his heart out, not dropping my gaze once. I look away, biting my lip. He’s right, as always. I belong with him; Anyone can see that.

“Well, at least wait until the morning,” I sigh looking back at him. “I mean you did just beat the shit of the guy and cum in his girlfriend, isn’t that enough for one night,” I smile lightly, not sure how he’ll feel about the idea.

“If you stay with me tonight, and do it very first thing in the morning, then I’ll agree,” he offers with a small smile. I agree, cuddling into his side. He lays a kiss on my forehead.

I should feel guilty, but I don’t, not towards Dakota at least. I feel guilty about getting Warren hurt, but my bitch ass boyfriend had it coming. I’ve finally found someone who cares about me, and I refuse to lose that, even if this is just a fling.

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waitimcomingtoo · 1 year ago

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SLUT!

chapter one: and I know you heard about me

pairing: peter parker x reader

series masterlist

“Sign the attendance sheet, please.”

An attendance sheet on a piece of loose leaf paper was sent around the classroom to mark the start of a new school year. Peter signed his name and then passed the paper along to the girl next to him. He could see you looking for a pen out of the corner of his eye and wordlessly handed over his own.

“Oh, thanks Peter.” You smiled at him and took the pen from him.

“No problem. Wait, how’d you know my name?” Peter wondered as you signed your name in the sheet.

“Because it’s on the attendance sheet you just handed me.” You laughed awkwardly.

“Oh. Right.” Peter blushed and strained his eyes to try and see what name you had written on the sheet.

“Y/n.” You told him when you saw him looking.

“What?” He asked and looked back up at you.

“You were looking to see what my name was. Its Y/n.” You replied and held up the sheet to show him.

“Oh.” He smiled timidly. “Yeah, I was. That’s a nice name. I wish I had it.”

“Thanks?” You laughed at his strange joke as he squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment.

“Oh, and thanks for this too.” You said and went to hand him his pen back.

“That’s okay. You can keep it. I have millions. Actually, just 45.” Peter said and pulled a box of 45 blue Bic pens out of his backpack. You laughed at how serious he was, making him relax a little. He had just transferred to the college that year and was worried about being the only new kid in junior year, but you were making him feel comfortable already with the prospect of a new friend. And it didn’t hurt that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

“44 now.” You smiled and held up the pen.

“Right. 44.” Peter blushed. A silence settled between you but class had not started yet. The attendance sheet was still going around and the professor was busy on the computer. Peter felt awkward and didn’t know if he should continue the conversation or leave you alone now that you’ve spoken to each other. You were wondering the same exact thing and raked your braid for something you could say to restart the conversation. You and Peter turned to face each other and spoke at the same time.

“So what’s your major?” You asked at the same time Peter said “Do you play?”

“Oh, sorry. You first.” Peter laughed in embarrassment.

“I asked what your major was. I haven’t seen you around before so I was curious.” You repeated now that you were the only one talking.

“Bioengineering. And you haven’t seen me because I just transferred here. What about you?”

“Undeclared still but my advisor said this class will fulfill my math and science gen Ed’s. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

“So you’re not taking organic chemistry for fun?” Peter tried his hand at a joke. Luckily, you laughed even though his delivery wasn’t his best work.

“I am not. I’m only here so I can graduate. What was your question?”

“Oh, right. I wanted to know if you play.” Peter asked and pointed to the soccer ball sticker on your closed laptop.

“Yeah. I’m here on a varsity scholarship. There was no way I was getting into this school otherwise. I’m not very smart.” You said with a nervous laugh.

“I’m here on a scholarship too.” Peter smiled at having something in common.

“Oh, cool. For a sport?”

“No. For being poor but smart.” Peter said seriously, but you laughed again as if it were a joke. Peter felt himself relax around you and settled into the conversation. You chatted for a little longer until your professor finally started class. When class ended, Peter hung back in his seat and waited to say goody bye to you once you finished packing up.

“Could I get your number? I like to have at least one person number in the class in case I miss a day.” You asked Peter and handed him your phone.

“My number? Oh. Yeah, sure.” Peter tried to sound calm as he took your phone in his hands. He put in his name and number and smiled to himself for finally giving his number to a girl.

“And cause I think you’re cute.” You added as Peter typed, making him freeze. He looked up at you in shock as he added his contact to your phone.

“What?”

“See you later, Peter.” You laughed and took your phone back before walking away. Peter stood there frozen for a while before heading back to his dorm. Ned was already inside, working on something on the computer.

“I’ve fallen in love.” Peter said as he shut the door behind him. Ned immediately closed his laptop and wagged his finger.

“No. Cut it out. None of that. Absolutely not.”

“You don’t even know with whom I’ve fallen in love with.” Peter pointed out as he plopped down on his dorm bed.

“Fine. With who?” Ned asked him.

“Her name is Y/n. She’s on the soccer team and in my organic chemistry class.” Peter said proudly.

“Wait, Y/n from the soccer team?” Ned asked. “Oh no, Peter. Thats never going to happen. I heard she’s really popular, but for the wrong reasons.”

“What reasons?” Peter asked. “And can people really be popular in college? Is that still a thing?”

“She’s a different kind of popular than what you’re thinking of. I heard she’s very popular with the guys at this school. And that’s all I’ll say.”

“Well can you say more? Because I don’t know what that means.”

“Oh my God. Do I really have to spell it out for you? I’m saying that I heard she’s kinda a slut. Like, big one.”

“A slut?” Peter laughed in surprise. “Do people really still use that word? I thought shaming women for their sexuality went out of style.”

“Nope. People still say it. Especially about her. I heard she sleeps with guys to get them to do her school work for her and then breaks their hearts. And I heard she even slept with the son of the President of the school to get in.”

“What? Come on.” Peter rolled his eyes. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t think she’s like that.”

“How would you know? You’ve only had one interaction with her.”

“And you’ve had 0 interactions with her.” Peter pointed out. “I’m hearing a lot of “I heard” and yet none of those things were told to you by her. So I don’t think it’s fair to judge her based on some crazy rumor before you even talk to her.”

“I’m just saying.” Ned shrugged. “She has a bad reputation. And that has to come from somewhere.”

“Well it doesn’t matter to me if she’s slept with a bunch of guys. If that’s even true. That doesn’t make her a bad person. She was nice and funny and I want to see her again. No matter how many guys she has allegedly slept with.” Peter replied with a slight roll of his eyes.

“Let me ask you this then; does she know how smart you are?” Ned questioned.

“Yeah. I told her I was here on a scholarship. Why?”

“Come on, Peter. Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious that the campus slut befriended you after finding out you were smart? She’s just gonna use you like she used all those other guys. I’m trying to look out for you, dude. I don’t want her breaking your heart, okay?”

“She’s not gonna do that.” Peter insisted. “And she’s not gonna try to sleep with me either. You’ll see. She just wants to be friends.”

Peter put his headphones on to end the conversation but Neds words didn’t leave his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was any truth to those rumors. You did ask for Peters number after finding out he was smart, but that didn’t necessarily mean you were gonna use him, did it? One the one hand, Peter would he sad if it turned out that all you wanted from him was homework help. On the other hand, he felt slightly excited that a pretty girl wanted to use him. He knew his friendship with you probably wouldn’t end well, but he knew the middle would be fun.

The next day, Peter was walking across campus when he found himself having to pass through the club fair. He squeezed by a few tables and avoided any flyers when he suddenly spotted you. You were sitting alone at a table with a sign for the girls soccer team. You looked rather lonely and Peter noticed no one was going to your table. You suddenly made eye contact with each other and your face lit up.

“Hey, Peter!”

“Hey.” Peter greeted you as he walked up to your table.

“Can I interest you in signing your name next to one of our game dates? If you show up on that date, you get a free water bottle. Water not included.” You said and held up a clipboard.

“Oh, I’m very interested.” Peter joked and wrote his name down next to every upcoming game you had on the clipboard. You took the clipboard back and smiled when you saw how many he had signed up for.

“Are you sure? You’ll have to see me a lot if you come to all of these.”

“Sounds horrible. I’m in.” Peter replied, making your smile grow. He immediately pushed everything Ned had said about you out of his mind and let you speak for yourself.

“So where’s the rest of your team?” He wondered.

“Oh, I don’t know. They said they were coming but they haven’t showed up yet.” You said with a sad smile. Peter looked at the two empty chairs beside you and felt bad that your team mates hadn’t showed up. You noticed him staring and smiled in embarrassment.

“Hey, uh, what are you doing now?” You asked him.

“Nothing. I have a gap between classes so I was gonna go get some work done.”

“I have work too. You going to the library?”

“I might be.”

“I’ll join you.” You smiled and got up from the table. You took your clipboard with you and walked in stride beside Peter towards the library. You passed by a group of boys on the basketball team and Peter heard you let out a sigh. One of the boys, Brad Davis, whistled loudly at you as you passed by. You stepped closer to Peter and quickened your pace, but Brad just stepped in front of you.

“Well look who it is.” Brad grinned. “I haven’t seen you on campus yet this semester. But I figured you were, you know, busy.”

You kept walking and Peter stayed beside you as he gave Brad a strange look. Brad didn’t even acknowledge Peter and only kept his eyes on you.

“What? I don’t get a hello now? I thought we were friends.” Brad asked you as he slung an arm around you. You forcefully threw his arm off of you, sending him stumbling back a few steps.

“That’s fine.” He scoffed. “I see how it is. And I’d be careful around her, Peter. She’s a homie hopper.”

“I thought you played defense?” Peter asked you. Brad was so confused that he immediately stood still and stopped harassing you. You couldn’t help but smile at the way Peter unintentionally diffused the situation and linked your arm through his.

“I do. Let’s keep walking.” You whispered and quickly made it to the library.

“I hate that guy.” You mumbled once you sat down at a table together.

“You do? I mean, same, but why?” Peter wondered.

“Why don’t you tell me why you hate him first?” You laughed and leaned on your hand to look at Peter.

“It’s simple, really. Brad and I went to high school together so I’ve have a long time to build this resentment. But it stems from that fact that he’s rich and popular and into sports and I’m the other kind of boy you can be.”

“Ah, I see. The quiet, non-sports boy? Those are real? I thought they only existed in movies.” You teased him.

“Many would assume so, but we’re very real. And very jealous of big handsome jocks who drive cars that look like Hotwheels.” Peter replied, making you laugh again.

“Hey, let’s not pretend you don’t have some heat under those clothes. I felt your arm before. It’s harder than a steering wheel.”

“Thank you?” Peter blushed and scratched the back of his head.

“You’re welcome. And you’re plenty handsome so you don’t have any reason to be jealous of those boys. Especially not butt-wads like Brad Davis.”

“Oh. Well, thanks. You’re handsome too.” Peter said and then immediately regretted it. You gave him a look and he sighed.

“I meant-“

“It’s okay. I knew what you meant.” You chuckled.

“Oh, good. So what are you working on?” He asked to change the subject.

“Homework for our chemistry lecture. But I don’t understand any of it.” You sighed and flipped back and forth between your notes.

“Can I see your notes?” Peter asked and you slid your notebook over to him. Your notes were very unorganized and sentences often went unfinished. He assumed it was because of how fast the teacher spoke and you not having time to write it all down before the class moved on. Peter looked up at you and could tell you were embarrassed by them. He gave your notebook back to you and took his out of his backpack.

“Here. We can use mine instead.”

“Wow. You have girl handwriting.” You smiled in surprise and touched his perfectly organized page of notes.

“I appreciate that.” Peter said sincerely.

“How do you even know what to write down? I have no idea what’s going on in that class. I try to pay attention but the teacher goes way to fast so when she asks if we have any questions, I don’t even know what I’m confused about yet.“

“I was pretty good at chemistry back in high school. If you want, I could tutor you?” Peter offered.

“Really?” You lit up. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah. I’d be happy to.” Peter nodded. You smiled brightly, but then your smile faded as you realized something. You looked out the window at where Brad Davis was before looking at Peter again.

“Can I ask you a vague question and then not elaborate?” You asked him.

“Um, sure.”

“Have you heard anything about me?” You asked, and Peter immediately thought back to what Ned had told him.

“About you? No.” Peter lied.

“So you’re offering to tutor me out of the kindness of your heart? Not because of what you think will happen if you do?” You questioned skeptically.

“What’s gonna happen?” Peter laughed awkwardly. He knew exactly what you meant; you were asking if he only wanted to tutor you because he thought you would sleep with him. But Peter wasn’t about to tell his new friend that he heard she was known for that.

“Nothing.” You smiled in relief. “Do you want to get together tomorrow after lecture for our first session?”

“Sure. I’d love to.”

“Cool.” You smirked. “See you then.”

Tag list 💋

@breadglasses @hollandweather @cashtons-wife @scenesofobx

ask to be on the taglist if you’d like 💋

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker college au

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skelly-words · 9 months ago

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Masterlist and Ask Rules (idk kinda ignoring tbh)

minors dni!!! 18+ only

I'm being organized rn so you don't get lost in the reblogs and shitposts

WARNING: i’m an nsfw blog even though some posts are sfw, minors DO NOT follow

I like never post and always have writer’s block smh, but i still luv your support <3

Obey me

Lucifer Drabble (NSFW short af)

Mammon x Reader ask (NSFW 3.7k)

Knock First Next Time|Leviathan x Reader (NSFW 4.2k)

Mermaid Levi <3 (SFW 2.4k)

In My Mouth|Beelzebub x Reader (NSFW 4.5k)

JJK

Bf!Choso Headcanons (NSFW .8k)

Choso x Reader (SFW 2k)

Bf!Geto Headcanons (NSFW .7k)

Sukuna x gn!Reader (SFW 1k)

Bf!Sukuna Headcanons (NSFW .8k)

Part 2 and Part 3 (NSFW)

even more, more

jjk characters at the smoke sesh (SFW .6k)

Shoko Drabble (SFW so so short)

One Piece

Stoner!Sanji x Reader (NSFW drabble)

Assorted Tentacle Smut

Monster Under the Bed (NSFW .5k)

Bring Your Tentacle to Work Day (NSFW .5k)

Part 2 (NSFW .8k)

Part 3 (NSFW 2.3k)

Ask 1 Blue+Pink (NSWF idk short)

Ask 2 at a conference (NSFW 2.5k)

Part 3.5 (NSFW lil bit)

Ask 3 boss's house (NSFW .7k)

Witch's Garden (NSFW 1.1k)

Witch's Garden Pt. 2 (NSFW 1.2k)

Silly Little Original Fiction

Of Bic Lighters and Bad Parenting (SFW 1.4k)

Ask Rules

You can put whatever, questions, requests, rants, etc. as long as it follows the rest of the rules. There's really no theme for my writing because I just post what I want.

No minors: not in my work, blog, comments, asks. I want nothing to do with children at all and I obviously won't write anything romantic/nsfw with minors either.

Yes: fluff, angst, smut, reader-insert, some ships, most kinks, idc, but I'm sometimes picky about characters.

No: No poop stuff, necrophilia, beastiality (can’t even spell it 💀), dd/lg or age-play type stuff, incest or pseudo-incest (step-siblings are still gross), aged-up minors, or anything else I add in the future.

Fandoms: Obey Me, JJK, or monster fucker stuff. I will also write for assorted Mystic Messenger, One Piece, Naruto, Bungo Stray Dogs, Soul Eater, Haikyuu, Attack on Titan, Chainsaw Man, and Demon Slayer characters (comment characters under this post and I'll lyk if I can write them)

Top picks: Sukuna (jjk), Kakashi (nart), Hange (aot), Dr. Stein (soul eater), Aki (csm), Akutagawa (bsd)

Kinda as a final note, I'm a female and use she/her/they pronouns, so I'm not comfortable writing anything that's heavy mlm bc it's not my skill set or experience (i love women though so request some girl-on-girl shit)

#jjk x reader #obey me x reader #monster fucker

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arcane-vagabond · 4 months ago

Text

By Its Cover: Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader (Last Name: Sinclair)

Summary: The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Content Warning: Historical inaccuracies probably, Promenading, Lingering looks, Stolen glances, Yearning, Gossip, Disregard for personal space, General anxiety, General self-esteem issues, Mean words. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard

Promenading was a terribly boring affair as far as you were concerned. Or at least, it was when spending the time with your overly zealous older sister. Georgie had insisted on sticking close to Lord Seresin, relegating you to the back with your mother and brother. The two of them conversed amongst themselves, leaving you to your thoughts, your hands itching to find a shaded spot where you could continue to read.

You found the book to be quite riveting so far, admiring the Elizabeth Bennet’s wit and bravery as she traversed the unknown landscape of the upper class. You had laughed at her sly remarks to Mr. Darcy, and envied her close relationship with her older sister. You imagined that Lydia and Theodosia were much like them, the way they were always giggling between each other. You had wanted something like that with Georgie, but you were quick to understand that your feelings were not reciprocated. No, Georgie preferred her gossip and shopping to your books and painting.

You caught Lord Seresin’s eye as he glanced back at you. His eyes twinkled as his lips curled into a smile before giving you a quick wink. Your cheeks heated, eyes growing wide at his boldness. He grinned at your reaction, lips pressing into a firm line as he tried to hold back a laugh, instead choosing to make it appear that he was laughing at one of Georgie’s—positively awful—jokes. You shook your head, ridding your mind of any lingering thoughts about the man in front of you. You glanced around the park, noting several newly presented ladies already chatting with suitors. The pairings thus far weren’t very interesting or gossip worthy as far as you were concerned.

Your eyes continued to flit about the garden until they met deep brown ones. Your mood perked up immediately upon sight of Natasha, an eager smile breaking out across your face as she hurried towards you.

“Oh, thank God you’re here,” she breathed as she saddled up to you, linking your arm with hers. “I was beginning to think I would die of boredom.”

“It would appear you and I share one mind,” you laughed, squeezing her arm as the two of you fell in to step just in front of William and your mother. Natasha’s eyes flickered back towards them, a coy gleam in them as she looked at your brother.

“I saw that,” you whispered, a knowing look on your face as she blushed, shushing you quickly before promptly looking forward.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Bug,” she stated, fighting the smile that threatened to break out across her face. You hummed, not believing her in the slightest when she peered over at you with a knowing look of her own.

“Although, I have heard some interesting tidbits about you and your sister this afternoon,” she teased, smirking as your eyes shot to hers.

“What on earth could they possibly be saying about us?” You scoffed. “The season has hardly even begun.”

“Well, what a beginning it’s been then,” she said. “The word around the Island is that a certain lady has her eye on the Duke of Austin.”

“That’s hardly newsworthy,” you sniffed, looking at your sister before shifting your gaze back to Natasha. Her eyes danced with amusement as her smirk grew bigger.

“Ah, but you haven’t heard the rest of it,” she grinned. “As it would turn out, the Duke of Austin appears to have his eyes pinned on another.”

You frowned, already not liking where this was going.

“No,” she continued. “He, in fact, has his eyes set on her sister if the whispers are to be believed.”

Your stomach did a flip, your skin suddenly feeling slightly clammy.

“That’s simply just not true,” you muttered, eyes cast toward the ground. It couldn’t be true. You weren’t nearly as good a prospect as Georgie. Sure, Georgie was prideful and snobbish at times, but she was beautiful, elegant, and sure to make a most wonderful bride to some eligible bachelor. You were none of those things. You were opinionated, stubborn, and much too quick to anger. You weren’t the type to be a graceful lady of an estate. No, you knew deep down in your heart that you would grow old in age living as a spinster on your family’s estate. Although, a secret part of you always hoped for more.

“Bug,” Natasha scowled, leaning in further as she lowered her voice so only you could hear. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Looks at me how?” you muttered.

“Like you’re the most divine creature he’s ever had the privilege of beholding,” she smirked. You frown, irritated that you were even entertaining the, quite frankly, foolish notion that a man such as Lord Seresin, a duke no less, would ever feel anything but muddled curiosity for someone like you.

“This is ridiculous,” you hissed, moving to pull back, but Natasha stopped you with a hand on your arm.

“Is it?” She questioned, eyes glancing in front of the both of you before looking back at you. “Because from where I’m standing, the man has hardly been able to stop looking at you. Perhaps the notorious rake of the Island is ready to settle down.”

You glanced over just as Lord Seresin’s head whipped back forward, a twinge of pink to his ears as he smiled at something your sister just said. You felt a pang in your chest, uncertain and unable to pin the emotion that suddenly filled you. You pressed your lips firmly together as you continued your walk in silence.

“Excuse me, Miss Sinclair.”

Your little party stopped as Mr. Darnstead came up to stand in front of your sister. You saw the way Georgiana’s lips curved coyly, the glance she cast to her right as she greeted the man in front of her.

“Hello, Mr. Darnstead,” she purred. “How are you enjoying the weather this fine day?”

Natasha squeezed your arm once more to get your attention. You turned your head to see her apologetic smile as she stepped back with a sigh.

“My mama is calling for me,” she frowned, gesturing to the woman in question who stood by the pond with a young man. Natasha’s mother had a look of eagerness as she waved for her daughter, and you gave your best friend a sympathetic nod.

“Good luck,” you whispered, squeezing her hand before watching her go. You startled as William stepped up beside you, a furrow to his brow as he watched Natasha’s retreating figure.

“Is that Lord Anson?” He asked, sparing you a glance. You scrunched your nose at him before shrugging.

“I have no idea,” you answered, a sly smile curling at your lips. “Why do you wish to know?”

William turned to you with an owlish blink that had you snickering into your hand. He scowled down at you, bumping your shoulder with his as he fought the smile that threatened to spread out across his face.

“That’s enough out of you,” he admonished playfully, earning a giggle from you.

It was quieter by the fountain that stood guarded by the giant hydrangea bushes and green hedges. You were the only one to venture to this part of the park, most everyone keeping closer to the main walkway where they were sure to be seen by all of society and any potential matches.

You enjoyed the quiet, truly you did. The chirping of birds and hum of insects complimenting the steady trickle of the water in the fountain. It was a nice, little corner that offered you some semblance of privacy while still being in full view of your ever watchful mother, though she seemed more preoccupied with Georgie and her many suitors that had come flooding out of the woodwork than her youngest daughter. You were grateful for the reprieve, sneaking away quietly to try and find some time to continue reading your book. You were making steady progress, admiring Elizabeth Bennet’s refusal of Mr. Collins when accepting would have been not only beneficial, but expected.

Your mother and brother seemed determined for you to marry, but you knew it was a lost cause. No respectable man of the Island would want to marry the strange, youngest daughter of the noble Sinclair family—especially when there seemed to be constant whispers about her ineptitude as a lady.

You sat perched on the edge of the fountain, feeling the mist from the water on your skin, a shiver running up your spine at the coolness of the water. You set your book down, standing to make your way towards the last remaining blossoms of the hydrangeas. You were happy to see them given how late in the year it was. Your family’s estate had a couple of bushes in its garden, but they were kept pruned short unlike the plants before you. The bush toward over you, making you feel small by comparison.

Your hand rose to cradle one of the last group of blossoms, smiling at the bright, blue petals. The ladies of the Island seemed to favor the bright pink and noble purple blossoms more, but you had always had a fondness for the blue. You leaned forward to sniff the sweet smell, humming with a smile.

“There you are.”

You jumped, whirling around to come face to face with Lord Seresin. He put his hands up, an amused smile on his lips as he looked at you.

“Woah,” he chuckled, letting his arms fall back to his sides. “Easy. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t,” you lied, frowning and looking away.

“Right,” he said quietly, shoving a hand into his pocket. “I thought I might find you over here.”

You hummed, fingers toying with the hydrangea blossoms once more. You weren’t sure how to talk to him. He was just a boy you had once known before last night, a friend of your brothers who used to carry you around on his back across the fields of your family’s estate. A boy who always indulged you, much to the annoyance of William. He always had a smile for you or a treat of some kind. You had been sad when he stopped coming around.

Now he was a handsome, young Duke of marrying age. You were not blind to the stares he received from the ladies of the Island—and even some of the men—as he had walked through the park with your family. He had become sturdier since his youth, and the very thought had heat rising to your cheeks.

As if he could read your mind, his lips curled into a smirk, and he took several steps towards you, bridging the gap that had kept your nerves at bay.

“You always did like the flowers,” he mused, his fingers coming up to rest against the same blossoms. He was so close, you could feel his body heat radiating off of him, the smell of his cologne competing with the sweet perfume of the flowers. You took a deep breath, lips parting as you took in his scent, eyelashes fluttering as it overwhelmed you.

“You used to bring them to me all the time,” he continued, eyes softening at the memories.

“Did I?” You asked, cursing how breathy your voice sounded.

“Oh, yes,” he grinned, plucking a blossom off the bush and handing it to you. “That and whatever creature you managed to dig up.”

You took the flower from his hands, cheeks becoming hotter at his teasing and the way his fingers brushed against yours.

“Your grace,” you started, but Lord Seresin frowned.

“Jake,” he corrected.

“Jake,” you sighed, grimacing. “Perhaps we should rejoin the others.”

“Why?” he asked with a frown. You pursed your lips, eyes flickering down to the flower in your hand. Anything to escape his intense green ones.

“I think it would be wise in order to avoid scandal,” you murmured, eyes darting towards the main pathway where several of high society’s elite strolled.

“I didn’t know you were so concerned with the thoughts of high society,” he smirked, leaning closer. You leaned away, eyes wide as his breath fanned over your face.

“Why would I not be?” You challenged, brow furrowing. “I am a lady of one of the noble families. To ruin my reputation is to ruin all of theirs as well.”

“You think I’m out to ruin your reputation?” He asked, smirk faltering. You stared at him for a second, mind reeling at his proximity and unsure of how to respond.

“What are your intentions with my sister?” You blurted out. Jake balked, confusion spreading out across his face.

“What?”

“Your intentions with my sister,” you continued, meeting his eyes with faux confidence. “You have quite the reputation, Lord Seresin. I would hate to see her caught up in it.”

All traces of mirth were gone from his face by the time you finished speaking. A dark glimmer in his eyes had you hesitating, but you stubbornly stood your ground, waiting for his answer.

“And what, pray tell, is my reputation, Miss Sinclair?” He challenged, a growl in his voice that most certainly did not make you feel flustered. Your mind raced back to the words Natasha and William had both spoken to you.

“They say you’re a rake,” you declared, lifting your chin. “Rumor has it that you’d rather spend your time with a different lady every night than settle down. That you spend your nights drinking and gambling until the sun rises. If you mean to court my sister, that will have to stop.”

Hurt flashed in his eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced with a cold veneer, his jaw clenching.

“I’m surprised you of all people would listen to the wretched gossip that everyone seems so fond of,” he said coolly, standing up straight and taking a step back from you as he adjusted his jacket. “Given how you yourself are the subject of some. Just a silly little girl with her head in the clouds and no understanding of the world around her. You’ll be lucky to find a match at all is what they say about you.”

The hot sting of tears prickled at the back of your eyes. Of course you weren’t a stranger to the things people whispered about you, only a fool would be. But in that moment, the image of the sweet boy who entertained you all those years ago is shattered.

You felt your lower lip wobble, and the cold look in Jake’s eyes crumbles as it’s replaced with one of regret.

“Lady Bug, I-” He started, reaching a hand out to you, but you jerked back. You gave him one last look, schooling your features as you rushed past him.

“Excuse me,” you sniffled, cursing as your voice trembled. You didn’t look back, making a beeline towards where your mother stood.

“Mama,” you called, the older woman turning to face you. Concern pulled at her brow and lips as she looked at you.

“Whatever is the matter, dearest?” She asked, cupping your face in her hands as she looked you over. You cleared your throat as you glanced to the ground.

“I’m suddenly not feeling well,” you lied. “Might I take the coach home?”

Your mother hesitated, and you could feel his eyes on you as she glanced up at him.

“I suppose that’s alright,” she said slowly, her hands coming down to rest on your shoulders. “Just have the driver come straight back once you’re home.”

You gave her a tight-lipped smile, ducking your head as you scurried away towards the entrance to the park.

You heaved a sigh as you stared out your window. You hadn’t stopped thinking about your exchange with Lord Seresin. Why had he been so upset with you? You were protecting your sister from heartbreak, warning him that the opinions of him will affect her too should he choose her as his wife. Was he angry because they had come from the lips of a woman all considered to be strange? Or perhaps it was because they were spoken aloud at all.

A knock sounded on your door, and you turned at the sound.

“Come in,” you called, thoughts still swirling inside your head. Your maid, Nora, poked her head in, a small smile directed your way.

“Good afternoon, miss,” she greeted, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “I wanted to let you know that dinner will be served in about one hour.”

“Thank you, Nora,” you smiled, but the action seemed forced. She hesitated for a moment, flinching as you gave her a puzzled look.

“Your mother wanted me to remind you that the Duke of Austin will be joining your family this evening,” she twittered nervously.

Your heart sank, the thought of seeing him again so soon filling you with dread. Perhaps you could feign illness and stay in your room with your book-

You lurched to your feet, Nora giving a startled cry at your sudden movement. You scurried around the room, moving piles and throwing pillows in a bid to find it.

“What are you looking for, miss?” The maid asked, coming up behind you. You turned to look at her, despair coloring your features.

“My book!” You exclaimed. “The one Mr. Mitchell let me borrow! I must have left it at the park, oh no.”

“You might still have time to go back and get it,” Nora offered. “You could be back with just enough time to get ready for dinner.”

“I’d be cutting it close,” you murmured, chewing on your bottom lip. The sky was beginning to darken, and you huffed out a breath.

“We must go quickly,” you decided. Nora grabbed your cape as you hurried out of your room. She chased after you, wrapping the cape around you as you exited the house. The driver was blessedly still by the stagecoach, and you signaled to him that you were in need of his services.

“I need to get to the park,” you told him, clambering into the coach. “As quickly as you can.”

The ride was quick, but silent, the coach jostling every now and then. You thanked the driver once you had stopped, gathering your skirts and running towards the fountain. You were out of breath by the time you reached it, panting as you looked to the spot you had set it down at earlier. Your stomach did a flip as you looked, the book nowhere in sight. You did two laps around the fountain before letting out a groan.

“Blast it all,” you cursed, hiding your face in your hands. How were you going to explain this to Mr. Mitchell?

With a sigh of defeat, you trudged back to the coach, your driver giving you a sympathetic look as he helped you inside. The ride back felt slower despite using the same route as before. When the coach stopped in front of your home, you thanked the driver once more before trudging inside. You heard voices coming from the parlor, and you knew you’d have to move quickly unless you wanted to hear another lecture from your mother about minding the time of others.

The family butler, Mr. Stevens, approached you.

“Miss,” he greeted with a slight bow of his head. “A parcel was left for you earlier this evening.”

“A parcel?” You frowned, shrugging off your cape. “Whoever from?”

“I’m not sure, miss,” Mr. Stevens grimaced. “It was left at the door with a note on top of it.”

Mr. Stevens gestured toward the end table pressed up against the wall. You walked over to it, brow furrowed as you lifted the wrapped package, the note falling to the side. You tore at the paper, eyes lighting up once you saw what was underneath.

“My book!” You exclaimed, relief flooding you as you clutched it to your chest. Your eyes darted towards the note that lay on the table, your name in neat scrawl printed across the front. You set the book down, picking up the paper gingerly as you flipped it open. Your eyes darted across the writing, widening before you could fully process what you were reading.

What on earth?

A/N: A big shoutout to not only Ruthie, but @sorchathered for helping me make concrete decisions on this story! My works wouldn't be what they are without the help and ever present ears of my friends to help me through and bounce ideas off of.

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to be notified on when I post updates, please follow my side blog (@arcanevagabond-library) and turn on post notifications! My work is cross posted on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

#bic #by its cover #regency!au #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction

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emswritingsstuff · 5 months ago

Text

Pink Lighter (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

Summary: While on a watch with Daryl, you offer to light his cigarette. Small embarrassment ensues. Just a silly drabble!

Warning: Smoking cigarettes (Daryl)

WC: 779

The wind sent small chills down your spine, the watchtower not proving to be any kind of shield from the outside air. Taking watch at night wasn’t your most favorite job here, but it flew by depending on who you were with.

But not tonight though, tonight you were with Daryl. And it could not be any quieter and boring. Nothing against the guy, but you both were different people and had nothing to really chat about. It also didn’t help that he wasn't super talkative in the first place. You could maybe count on one hand how many full conversations you had with him, and you’ve known him since the Quarry.

He’s never been mean to you; sure, he had his moments where he was a dick but was never direct. His company was appreciated though, you weren’t sure what it was about him, but you felt safe. Like if anything were to happen, he’d get you both out of it no problem. It's what you liked about him.

In the midst of your thoughts, you were brought back down with deep grumbles next to you. You look over to see Daryl with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, flicking his lighter but no flame erupting. He angrily flipped the zippos lid down and stuffed it back in his pocket. When going to take the cigarette out of his mouth, you’d remembered the pink BIC lighter you had found on a run. You had never really used a lighter before, but it can’t be super difficult right?

“Here,” you held the lighter down under his cigarette and he quickly turned to you, giving you both less space so you don’t have to stretch as much. Attempting to flick the lighter a few times, nothing happened. Were you doing something wrong? Probably.

Retracting the lighter back, you flicked it a few more times before looking back up at Daryl. “Sorry, let me just, uh, give this to you,” obviously embarrassed, you had gotten a tiny laugh out of him, which was a massive win to you. He took the lighter out of your hands and made quick work of lighting the cigarette and handing the lighter back. “Tha’ was adorable,” he said after taking a drag and blowing it out.

Great, now you feel even more embarrassed. Quickly looking away as you stuffed the lighter that had proven to be useless to you at least. “Don’t ever bring this up again, I’m beyond embarrassed.” He laughed again and patted your back, he did the zipped lip motion and proceeded to focus back on his cigarette.

Time passed and the silence was more comfortable than it was before, you had no clue when the shift was set to end, but part of you wished it wouldn’t end. It was kind of fun being with him tonight.

You had felt a tap on your shoulder, and you looked over to Daryl, with another cigarette in his mouth. You knew what he wanted so you quickly handed him the lighter. A ‘thanks’ was mumbled as he lit it and handed the lighter back.

As he smoked, he spoke up for the first time in a while “Why do ya even have tha’?” he gestured to the lighter still in your hand. You looked at it and cleared your throat to speak. “Found it a while back, figured it could be useful for at least something. Or to actually have light when people ask for one.” All Daryl could do was chuckle at your reasoning, it was understandable. But it was dorky, in a good way that is.

“Well ya gotta learn to actually light it,” You rolled your eyes and nodded, “Yeah I know, just never had the opportunity.” He tilted his head, showing he understood. Daryl barely knew about your past before the end, but he knew you didn’t seem like the type to smoke or light random fires.

Flicking sounds of the lighter filled the room after he’d finished speaking. You were determined to figure this out, and after about 20 flicks later. The orange glow of the flame casted over your face. Overjoyed you jumped up and cheered, probably looking crazy to someone looking into the watchtower. All Daryl could do was smile at your behavior.

“Look at that! I did it! Finally!” You lit the flame again and pointed at it, showing it off like crazy. “Proud of ya,” Daryl said, genuinely, as he rubbed your shoulder.

Time had come for your shift to be over, as you both walked to your respective cells Daryl pulled out one last cigarette and gestured you over to him. “Gimme a light?”

You laughed and happily did so for him.

Note: Based off an actual experience I had not knowing how to use a BIC lighter in front of my sculpture professor. I think about it all the time. hashtag humbled. Also, sorry if I barely conveyed Daryl's accent, I struggle w that, but this is all for fun lol!

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #x reader #the walking dead x reader #fluff #twd daryl

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southsideserendipity · 7 months ago

Note

I saw your post about Mikey so I hope this is okay & what you were looking for. Mikey meets a girl that is like sunshine whenever she walks in the room & makes him finally feel worthy/valued so he’ll do anything to make her feel special in return

Sunshine (Mikey Berzatto x Reader)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of weed and alcohol.

Word Count: 4.2k

I found a good boy and he's on my side You're just my eternal sunshine, sunshine

“John, John- you listenin’ to me?!” Mikey was pacing his office, trampling over receipts and month-old sticky notes while aggressively combing his hands through his tussled black hair. “I’ll have your money. When have I not paid you, goombah? I didn’t see the invoice, you should see this fuckin’ office, not enough time to organize this damn shit show” he responded, kicking a stack of papers in the process.

Bending down, he began rummaging through the various papers littering the office floor, attempting to compile them into categories. “John! You there?! Fuck.” Mikey frantically pat himself down, a sudden yearn for nicotine overcoming him. Finding his carton of Marlboros, he slipped the end of a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

Letting out a sigh, John grunted, “Yeah, I’m here, Mikey. I’ll give you a couple more d-” before being interrupted by the vibrations of Mikey’s phone.

“Fuck me, that jagoff is calling” Mikey thought out loud. “Listen, John, I hear you, you’ll have your money, mmkay? On my ma, I swear to ya, I gotta go though there’s another ball-buster on the other line. K? Ciao.” Before John could respond, Mikey stood up to accept the other call.

“Mark, brother, hey, before you start… I know, I know.” He picked up his phone, taking it off speaker to slip it under his ear. “I— Listen, I know. I hear you. I- Hey, you gon’ let me speak, or wha’?!” Speaking with his hands he continued to pace around the room, his booming voice stifled by the cigarette.

The lunch rush at The Beef was dying down, exposing you to increasingly longer bits of the chaotic conversation occurring in the office. This was Mikey’s typical presentation; disheveled, malnourished, and overexaggerately buzzed off of caffeine, nicotine, and italian-ness. Although he was impossible to reason with in this state, you took it upon yourself to fix him up his favourite; a mortadella sandwich with sundried tomatoes, pesto, and mozzarella.

“You think I don’t know that? Pft, c’mon! Mark, man, you’re killin’ me!” You stood in the doorway, observing Mikey as he stood with one hand on his hip, the other flailing around to exemplify his frustrations. In one of your hands was the plate holding the lunch you made; in the other was a Chicago Bears BIC lighter.

Subtly knocking on the already open office door, Mikey whipped around to face you, his inconvenienced facial expression seamlessly evaporating into his wide-tooth grin. Mouthing ‘meet me outside’ was all it took for him to fake an excuse off of the phone and trail in your footsteps.

Albeit cheesy, you had that captivating effect on him, your hidden-well insecurities and past failed relationships blinding you to the fact that Mikey was infatuated with you. That, in combination with the 15-year age gap between you two. For Mikey, none of those factors changed the fact that you were his daylight, sunshine in human form.

Outside in the back you sat on a milk crate, the pre-Spring Chicagoan air fluttering over your skin. Moments after, Mikey joined you by sitting on an adjacent crate close to you after propping open the door. “Thanks, Bella” he said as he leaned over, his palm squeezing your thigh in an attempt to physically communicate the appreciation he held for your act of service.

You offered out the plate to him, prompting him to begin devouring. He gruffly moaned after taking his first bite. “Mhhhh, shit, this is like Marry Me chicken but in sandwich form.” You giggled in response with your hands resting in your lap, watching as he attacked it hungrily. Mid-bite, he motioned with his head towards the other sandwich on the plate, “Ain’t gonna eat itself, Italiana.”

“I’m not hungry right now, Mike,” you responded, suddenly losing your appetite as you thought of the most effective way to check in on him without him brushing it off. Mikey had a fortified ‘I’ll deal with it maself’ attitude; his hard-headed, traditional Italian, ‘Godfather’ persona caused him to keep you far away from the messes he had gotten himself into. In his eyes, you are more than capable of dealing with life’s bullshit, but his innate urge to protect you from harm’s way and unnecessary stress made it difficult to involve you.

“What was going on in there?” you motioned towards inside with your head. “Ah, nothin’ doll.” He shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to brush off the topic, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Just some bills that need payin’, I got it covered. Business good today? Any jagoffs give you trouble?” He frantically read your face, urgently hoping you’d buy his not-so-discreet attempt at changing the topic.

“C’mon, Mike. Cut the shit. You’re suffocating in that office.” The only person whose bluntness Mikey could listen to happened to also be the only person he’d accept ‘Mike’ from. He took the cigarette that had been hanging from his lips in his office out of his shirt pocket and proceeded to light it. Taking the first drag of it, he flicked it, holding it out to you.

Pursing his lips to blow out his puff, he responded confidently. “I got it all figured out, sunshine. Plus, I got cousin helpin’ me with the books and shit. Just gotta pay back those muthafuckas who keep callin’ me. They’re all, ‘where’s my money!?’” he playfully rolled his eyes, making hand gestures and displaying a funny face as he imitated the callers. You both knew damn well they had every right to be calling him.

“You telling me that Richie is on the books is supposed to bring me a sense of comfort?” Asking him that question with pure seriousness and handing him back the cigarette, Mikey stifled a laugh. “Hey, him and the IRS are like this” he crossed his middle finger over his index while winking and making a clicking noise with his tongue.

“Cousin, where the fuck are the receipt rolls, the office looks like an abandoned and pissed-in office depot” Richie’s exclaiming became increasingly louder the closer he got. “Feels like we change the damn paper in that thing ever- oh shit, pardon my interruption to your rendezvous. Were you guys about to fuck? I can leave” Richie pointed with his thumb towards the kitchen as he sported a fake-worried and devious expression, slowly inching backwards.

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “No one’s fucking anyone, Rich.” Mikey looked to the ground as he faked a chuckle, ignoring the slight pang of hurt in his chest.

“You want a mortadella sandwhich?” You held out the plate to Richie, knowing he couldn’t resist. “Uh, DUH,” Richie grabbed an additional crate to join the two of you, immediately beginning to eat.

“Oh fuck, are you fucking serious right now?! Mikey, if you don’t marry this girl I’ll do it for you. ‘S like a mouf orgathm” Richie had just begun eating yet he already had food on the corners of his mouth. You chuckled, choosing to ignore the marriage comment. “Here, you child. You’re such a slob” you threw him a napkin you had stored in your apron.

“Hey, the real slob is right over there” he pointed directly at Mikey, not even bothering to wipe his mouth but proceeding to take a another massive bite. “Something’s gotta be done about that cesspool of an office,” Richie shook his head disapprovingly, despite also functioning well in chaotic enrivonments. Mikey took yet another drag, the stress of you and Richie’s indirect demand to get his shit together getting to him. “It’s organized chaos, I know where everything is, s’all that matters.”

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

This was the third night in a row that you had difficulty falling asleep. You had tried everything in your arsenal of melatonin-producing activities, and yet, your brain was spiraling, most of your thoughts pertaining to Mikey.

You weren’t going to kid yourself. You needed something and you knew exactly who to get it from. Picking up your phone, you made the call.

“Rich?? You awake?” You rolled over to your side, holding yourself up by your elbow and propping your head up with the palm of your hand. “Yeah I’m awake, but why the fuck are you awake, missus?” “I need a favour…”

Richie’s dirty mind figured any call from a woman at this hour was for sex, but he also knew about Mikey’s schoolboy yearn for you and wouldn’t dare make any advancements. The silence on his end was telling. “Not that type of favour, God, Rich! Stop being a man for a second. I need weed.” You huffed out, a whiny tone of desperation heavy in your voice.

“Now that I can help you with” he chuckled.

“YES thank you, Rich, oh my god” You sprung up out of bad as if there were hot rocks in it. “I will meet you at The Beef, okay?!” And that was where he met you.

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

You and Richie sat at the back of The Beef, exactly where you had had lunch earlier that day. “You want to do the honours, stoner?” Richie held out the joint and lighter for you. You faked an annoying look and exaggerately took them from him. “I’m not a stoner, Rich. I just have an undiagnosed sleeping problem.” You put the joint between your lips and lit it, taking an ungodly large pull from it.

“Woahhhhh cheech and chong, relax” Richie practically yanked the joint from you. You immediately began coughing as you hadn’t smoked in a while. “What or who the fuck are you trying to forget, Italiana?” Richie’s joking tone didn’t conceal his concern as he took a puff himself. You looked at him, tilting your head to the side to signify confusion.

Richie took another pull before returning the joint to you. “If you’re calling me at 12am to smoke because you couldn’t sleep, it tells me your big brain was overthinking.” You took a moderate inhale this time, the buzz beginning to radiate out to your extremities. “What were you thinking about, Richie? Something tells me you were awake for similar reasons.”

“I’m not sayin’ anything ‘til you do” he responded whilst shrugging.

Making a sour face, you attempted to restore the saliva in your mouth. “I have cotton mouth like a bitch, I’m going to get something to drink. You want anything?” you asked, heading inside before he could interrogate you further. “Get me a brio!” You chuckled to yourself, shouting back “You know you’re not Italian, right?!”

You walked over to the walk-in fridge, grabbing Richie’s Brio and a Fresca for yourself. On the way back out, Mikey’s office door caught your attention, and you suddenly had an idea. “Rich. Oh my god. I know exactly what we can do.”

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

“I… I think we just made things worse.” Looking up at Richie in horror, he mirrored your reaction. “Yeah, we fucked up cousin. We’re in some deep shit.”

You and Richie were both sat on the office floor, waist deep in the paper equivalent of a small forest. You took a swig from your Fresca, attempting to decipher where to start. “We can do this. For Mikey. He deserves this, and fuck, let’s face it, he was never gonna do it himself!” You attempted to motivate Richie, knowing his child-like attention span and patience were on their last legs.

Picking up various pieces of paper, you attempted to make sense of them. “Okay… I’ll make one pile for receipts, and I’ll sort them by date, and then-” You felt Richie’s eyes burning a hole into you, causing you to look at him and flail your hands around. “What?!” Impatiently waiting for his response, you began gnawing on the inside of your cheek, nervous that he was onto you.

“You like him.” Richie slowly grinned from ear to ear as he stated it matter o’factly. “You like like him.” You flung your head back and groaned. “‘Like like?’ C’mon, Rich, what are you, 12? Shut the fuck up and help me.” The blood rushed into your cheeks almost immediately at his accusation, the THC physiologically betraying you and making it impossible to put on a front. “You like him. Oh my god. I fuckin’ knew it,” he giggled.

“I don’t know whether it’s the weed or the fact that it’s 3am and I’m reaching the point of delirium, but since I’m not a pre-teen, I’ll admit that you’re not wrong. But it’s never going to happen. He’s mentally ill with a fucked up family and so am I- that doesn’t tend to be the ideal romantic combination. Now, lets finish this so we can still go home and get some rest before shift starts.” You looked at Richie with a stern look; he was shocked at your mini rampage, and internally, you were petrified about the fact that you had just spilt your guts to Mikey’s bestfriend.

“And don’t get any ideas, because this conversation does NOT repeat itself, you hear me, Jerimovich!” When you addressed someone in the kitchen by their last name, they knew you meant business. “Uh-huh, yup, yes ma’am.” Richie gulped, considering you just displayed more emotions in the last 5-minutes than you had for the entire length of time he has known you. It didn’t help that he was beyond stoned and couldn’t quite comprehend the nature of what you had told him.

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

“Cousin! What the fuck is this? Why can I see the floor?” Mikey was standing at the doorway of his office in utter disbelief that morning. Richie jogged over peaking his head into the office. “It was Italiana’s doing, she just told me what to do. We were preeeetty fried” he chuckled to himself, recalling last night’s events. “Surprisingly, we didn’t throw anything out. She’s got a real knack for organizing, should’ve let her do this months ago. The IRS and I aren’t going to have anymore beef, see what I did.”

Richie couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. His nervous rambling was an attempt to not tell Mikey about your confession. Knowing how much Mikey admired you, it was killing him to not be able to tell his own bestfriend that the girl of his dreams reciprocated his feelings. Mikey slowly turned to look at Richie, hands still on his hips. “What the fuck did you smoke, crack? Why are you acting all fucked?”

You had walked into the kitchen at perfect timing before Richie blabbed your secret. Going to hang your purse up, Mikey called you over; he didn’t even need to see you to feel your presence. “Italiana, come ‘ere!” You sped walk over and stood in the entrance, your hands folded in front of you with a nervousness. A part of you was worried that messing with Mikey’s ‘organized chaos’ was going to disorient him, but you wanted to lessen the stress he was experiencing. That was what you did for the people you loved; especially the man you loved.

“You did this?” He looked directly at you; despite being an expert in Mikey’s nuances, you couldn’t tell whether he was pissed or overjoyed. “Uh, yeah! It’s all pretty self-explanatory but I can go through it with you if you want? I just thought it’d make your life a lil easier. And Richie’s! Of course.” You rubbed your arm with your hand as a means of self-soothing.

“This is great, Bella. Truly. I can’t believe you went through all this trouble, I mean, I don’t think I’ve seen it look like this ever” he motioned towards the filing cabinet and the paper baskets you had labelled appropriately, using his other hand to comb through his hair in shock. “I couldnt of done it without Richie. And Richie’s weed! It was nothing, Mike” you smiled at him and showed yourself out as nonchalantly as possible.

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You were waiting the last tables of the day - mainly consisting of left behind beer bottles and plastic sandwich baskets - when Mikey came up behind you putting one hand on your waist. “Meet me in the office when you’re done here, yeah?” As he whispered into your ear, you had to keep your knees from buckling. “Yeah, Mike! Okay!” Fucking Richie.

You attempted to stall for the inevitably painful conversation that awaited you, slowly walking towards the kitchen. While washing your hands, your brain began to spiral. Wiping your hands on your apron, you attempted to bravely walk towards the office, standing in the doorway.

“What’s up?” You halted in your tracks almost immediately as you noticed the charcuterie board Mikey was standing in front of and the bottle of red wine in his hands. “Fuck me. Okay, listen.” You walked closer to him. “Before you say anything, I don’t know what Richie said to you, but as someone who doesn’t know the difference between your and you’re, he has no idea what he’s talking about. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

Mikey looked at you like a deer in headlights. “What the fuck are you talking about,” he chuckled. There was that dimpled smile. And now you were confused (and distracted) before you realized Richie didn’t say anything.

“I wanted to thank you for organizing the office…” Mikey explained, twisting the bottle of wine open and pouring you a glass. “I know how much you like your charcuterie. If Starbucks ever stops selling those little boards I’ll wonder what you’re gonna eat.” He earned a laugh from you for joking about your mild salami addiction.

You sported the fakest wide tooth grin you could muster. “Hey, I’m Italian. I can’t help it. I think I’m keeping them in business though” you joked in response. He held out the glass for you and winked. “Thanks, Mike” you smiled, hoping he couldn’t pick up on your nervousness.

“Okay, let me show you what we’ve got here.” He clapped his hands together, excited to introduce you to his concoction of Italian meets and cheeses. Hunched over his desk with both of his hands planted on the surface to support him, he pointed at each meat and cheese as he went through the board’s contents.

“We’ve got cacciatore, prosciutto, mortadella, then I added parmesan - I know how much you like it - along with romano and gorgonzola. I was thinking we can add it to the menu. We’re no hipster yuppies but throw some olives and overpriced crackers on here and I mean, we’re talkin’ business, baby.” Looking up at you, he attempted to read your face for your thoughts.

Mikey was passionate. That was his entire nature. And when he presented you with ideas, he seemed to put your approval and opinion on a pedestal. You had helped significantly with business at The Beef, assisting in bringing Mikey’s visions to fruition while also providing your input where necessary; he valued your insight more than you realized.

Taking a baguette slice, you added cacciatore and parmesan onto it and bit in. “Fuck, Mike.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you let out a near moan. “We gotta add this. It could even be part of a date night special. The charcuterie as an antipasto, a soup or salad, a main, and then dessert” you presented.

Mike glanced up at you with a smirk, content with your proposal. “Have I ever told you that I love your brain, Italiana?” You giggled as you continued to devour the board, attempting to ignore his blatantly obvious attempt at flirting as you couldn’t believe he could possibly be interested in you.

The rest of the evening was spent brainstorming business ideas, reminiscing on memories shared between you, Mikey, and Richie, and consuming copious amounts of wine.

“Oh my god, Mike. You remember when Richie tried picking up that blonde girl at the bar with a magic trick, and you- y- oh my god.” You flung your head back as you cackled; you were wine drunk and snortling to the point of incoherence. You were sat across from Mikey who was planted behind his desk, his ankle resting on top of his other knee. His forearms rested on the arms of his chair, and he loosely held a glass of whiskey as he watched you with amusement and a sly grin of admiration.

“You had to go over there and save him from the embarrassment. Poor thing.” You chuckled. “I’m pretty sure the chick he was tryna bag had started flirting with me,” Mikey said, taking a sip of his whiskey and raising his eyebrows as he attempted to recall the events of that evening.

You looked intently at him, not breaking eye contact. “Can you blame her?” The wine encouraged a new-found confidence to emerge from within you. There was no way you would’ve been this direct with Mikey while sober.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mikey leaned forward to put his glass on his desk then returned to his laid back position. With a dumbfounded look on your faced, you laughed then displayed a look of annoyance. “Don’t play stupid. Look at yourself, Mike.” You stood up, put the wine glass down, and rested both of your hands on his desk, leaning forward until you were mere inches away from his face.

Looking into his right eye, glancing down at his lips, and looking back up to his left eye, he began to shift in his seat. It was evident that you were both under a hazy and horny alcohol-induced influence, the sexual tension very obviously suffocating the room. “Now take me home before I say or do something I’ll regret.”

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As Mikey walked you back to your apartment, you held onto the side of his frame with all your might. He guided you through the streets of Chicago with ease; he was nowhere near the level of drunk that you had achieved. “You okay, darlin’?” He looked down, a slight smile on his face as he recognized your drunken effort to walk in a straight line. “Yeah, Mike. Thanks for tonight. No one’s ever gone through such an effort to appreciate me.”

You peered up at him with a smile; you wanted to put into perspective how much his actions meant to you, however, Mikey felt an even stronger urge to spoil you moving forward. Quite frankly, he was bewildered that his small gesture that evening exceeded all that you’ve known.

Arriving to the door of your apartment, you began rummaging through your purse for your keys. Finding them, you held your arm out straight and dangled them in front of Mikey. “You’re gonna need to unlock the door, mister. I do not currently possess the fine motor skills” you joked, earning a laugh from him.

You caught the glimmer in his eyes. Mikey felt like your fierce protector. You both knew you didn’t need protecting- while this was a part of you he admired, his masculinity often fought for dominance; for the chance to show you how well he could look after you and how much you deserved it.

He opened the door, propping it open for you as you stumbled through, immediately attempting to take off your shoes. You hadn’t thought this out thoroughly as you ended up toppling over, Mikey catching you in the process. “Easy, doll. Here, sit down,” he motioned toward the ottoman in the foyer of your apartment, guiding you as you lowered yourself.

He crouched down at your feet and placed the heel of your foot on his thigh, proceeding to untie your shoes. Grasping your ankle one at a time, he wiggled your feet out. You looked down at him, admiring his gentle touch, the concentration present in his furrowed brow; you loved to watch him, whatever he was doing, and you’ve known for a long time that you’ve loved him.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” Holding out both of his hands for you, you stood up, letting him walk you through to your bedroom. You had a case of the over-tired drunken giggles, prompting you to laugh as you slurred your intentions to take off your make-up.

Mikey picked out some pjs for you, then proceeded to pour you a cold glass of water while you got changed. Opening the door to your bedroom, you motioned for him to come inside. “Sleep next to me?” You proposed with a curious tone despite knowing he’d decline as he (annoyingly) insisted on being a respectful gentleman at all times. “S’all good doll, I’ll be good on the couch” he motioned to the living room with his head. “Lemme tuck you in.”

As you got under the covers, Mikey offered you the glass of water to which you happily obliged. Handing it back to him, he placed it on your bedside table as you snuggled yourself into the sheets. He turned off the lamp, the room engulfing with darkness save for the midnight blue hue that the window cast in.

Mikey began to walk out of your room when you called out to him. “Hey Mike, c’mere” you turned over, watching him as he slowly approached. Motioning for him to come closer, you whispered into his ear. “I like like you.”

Knocking out after the words escaped your lips, as if they were made of melatonin, Mikey smiled to himself as he looked down at you. “And I love you, sunshine.”

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EEEEEEEEK my very first Mikey imagine! Which means I am still learning to integrate his personality into my writing- it’s hard when he has extremely minimal screentime. ALSO I am writing this in whatever year Mikey was operating The Beef, so Carmy, Syd, and the others aren’t there, and Richie and Tiff are still together. I am completely open to feedback and would also love to get more requests for Mikey. Let me know what y’all think!!! :)

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buckylovinglokivariant · 2 months ago

Text

Casual (pt. 2) >> Johnny Storm

pairing: johnny storm x popstar!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 3k

summary: Johnny always meant to keep it casual with you but unfortunately for him, he wasn't so good at sticking to his word this time.

warnings: reader gets dangled off the empire state building but i think that's it-

a/n: @fwskullz asked me to write a part two so here it is! sorry it took so long, i did in fact move to college-

read part 1 here!

“So I really messed up.”

Even though the concert had finished a few minutes ago, Johnny’s eyes were still glued to where you were just performing center-stage.

“No kiddin’, Bic-Head,” Ben chuckled. “I ain’t never seen any of your exes so ticked off ‘atcha. And you’ve had a lot–and I mean a lot–.”

“Thank you, Ben,” Johnny growled, whirling around to face the other man. “We get the point!”

“I don’t know how you’re going to get out of this one, Johnny,” Suzie winced. “She looked really upset with you.”

“I didn’t even know the two of you broke up,” Reed blinked, always the one out of the loop.

“Technically we were never really together,” Johnny halfheartedly defended himself.

“Johnny,” Sue cocked a skeptical eyebrow at him. “She wrote a song about you called ‘Casual’. I think it’s safe to say that’s precisely what she’s mad about.”

Johnny groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“I’d better go talk to her, huh?”

Ben clapped him on the shoulder with mock sympathy, briefly knocking him off-balance.

“Yeah kid, I think you’d better.”

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You were backstage in your dressing room after the show, seated in front of the vanity mirror as you brushed out your hair, when there was a knock on your door.

“Come in!” You called in reply, putting your brush down nonchalantly as you were used to these sorts of various intrusions preceding and following a show.

You watched the door through its reflection in the mirror and leapt from your seat when you saw the first person through the door.

“Sue!” You cried happily, dashing over to wrap her in your arms. “I didn’t think you were coming!”

It was sort of true. You really didn’t think she was coming, but only because you’d forgotten that you’d invited her in the first place. As you held her in your arms, the day you delivered the tickets to her began to trickle back into your memory. It must have been at least four or five months ago now but even still, you can’t believe you forgot. It wasn’t until you heard the door shut that it finally occurred to you: if she was here, then most likely so was–.

Your eyes flew open over Sue’s shoulder and you immediately locked eyes with the blond man leaning against the doorframe, flanked by Sue’s boyfriend Reed and his best friend Ben. You gave Johnny a pointed sneer as you pulled away from Sue, stepping around her to first embrace Reed and then completely ignore Johnny as you sidestepped him to plant a kiss on Ben’s cheek.

“What, no greeting for an old flame?” Johnny opened his arms toward you.

You turned, considering him for a moment before plastering on a fake smile and approaching him slowly. Instead of the warm embrace he expected though, as soon as you got close enough you greeted him with a hearty slap across the face.

“Thought that when I told you to go to hell, the ‘and stay there’ was implied,” you snarled.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Johnny cringed, rubbing his cheek which was now burning red. “I deserve that.”

“You deserve worse than that but seeing as your family’s here, consider it a compromise.”

You turned to the other three who were watching you with a combination of shock and awe and smiled, gesturing at the seating around the coffee table at the center of the room.

“Please, sit! It’s really been too long since I’ve seen you three.”

You led the way, occupying a plush armchair while the other three squeezed onto the couch across from it. Johnny, who you were very purposefully not looking at, hovered somewhere back across the room, investigating the space as you spoke.

“So what mayhem have you three been getting into across the galaxy?” You smiled conspiratorially.

“Oh you know,” Sue waved you off. “New planets, weird plants, alien races—the usual. You on the other hand have been on a world tour! I want to hear about that.”

“Oh gosh,” you giggled, allowing yourself for the first time in months to have missed this—missed them. “Wow um, performing a lot, of course. Partying at night, writing on the rare occasion I have downtime. Speaking of, what did you guys think of that new song?”

“Personally, I loved it,” Ben chimed in immediately, smirking patronizingly at Johnny. “I mean, that last part—“

“The outro?” You suggested.

“Yeah, that!” Ben agreed enthusiastically. “Absolutely brutal. I’m sure whoever you wrote it about feels real sorry now.”

“Thank you, Ben,” you replied earnestly. “Even if he didn’t care about me before, I’m sure he does now.”

“I always cared about you!” Johnny piped up indignantly from the corner.

“Did you guys hear something?” You asked the three sitting across from you. “Must have been the wind.”

“That’s really mature, you know that?” Johnny snarked.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you!” You snorted. “Now please keep it down over there—I’m trying to catch up with the members of your family who aren’t lying, manipulative pieces of shit.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Susan stood up, Reed and Ben following suit.

“Wait, Sue, I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized. “I was out of line, just—.”

“I didn’t say he didn’t deserve it,” Sue sighed, crossing to your side of the table and kneeling to rest your hands in hers. “Look, I’m not sure what happened between you two and I’m not going to pretend I do. Whatever you’re feeling is valid and I have no doubt it’s probably justified too. But just… do me a favor and hear him out, okay? He’s a boy and he’s stupid but he has a good heart. Whatever happened, he feels awful about it and he wants to fix it. Just give him a chance to explain himself, please?”

You glanced over Sue’s head to where Johnny was watching the exchange. When he saw you looking, he pressed his hands together and mouthed ‘Please?’. As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t deny the flicker of affection that sparked in your chest.

“Fine,” you conceded, standing to open the door for Sue, Reed, and Ben. “You get five minutes and then I’m either letting you three back in or kicking you all out.”

They followed you to the door and out, Ben first, then Reed, and then Sue after she stopped to hug Johnny and whisper in his ear: “You're welcome. Don't mess this up.” When they were finally out the door, all three gave Johnny various pointed looks as you shut it behind you, leaning against it with your arms crossed and eyebrows raised in reluctant anticipation.

“Look, I was an idiot—I am an idiot,” he opened.

“This is a surprise to absolutely no one,” you quipped. “Go on.”

Johnny sighed, running a nervous hand through his blond curls.

“I didn’t realize you were the best thing in my life until you were gone.”

“I broke things off with you months ago, Johnny. Why here, why now? You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” He asked genuinely.

“God dammit, Johnny, you could have tried!” You forced down the lump in your throat. “As someone who stopped seeing you because I didn’t feel wanted, you’re not doing a great job of convincing me I was wrong about you.”

Johnny hung his head, knowing you were right. Hell, he didn’t realize he missed you until a couple of hours ago—how was he going to convince you he really wanted you back? But the next thing you said gave him an idea that would either make or break your relationship depending on how well he stuck to his word.

“I mean, how would you even start a relationship with me right now, Johnny?” You thought out loud. “I’m on tour, I’m in a new city every day. And it’s not exactly like you can drop everything and follow me around given your line of work.”

“I have an idea.”

You looked very much like you didn’t trust him as far as you could throw him, but you looked intrigued too. You nodded, urging him to continue.

“I’ll wait for you.”

You barked out a disbelieving laugh.

“You’re kidding, right? Johnny, I’m on tour for the next three months. You’re telling me you’re not going to see a single girl that whole time?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. You think I can’t do it?”

“No, Johnny, full offense but I really don’t think you can.”

“So I’ll prove you wrong. And when I do, you’ll owe me a date.”

You squinted your eyes at him, not believing him at all but willing to let him at least try.

“Fine,” you sighed. “If you can wait for me—and I mean really wait, I don’t wanna see you with another girl in the tabloids or on Instagram or anywhere—then I promise to go on one date with you. No promises after that.”

“Yes!”

He pumped his fist and you shook your head exasperatedly, extending a hand for him to shake.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Lowell Spencer.”

“In the spirit of apologies, I’m going to let that slide.”

“How kind of you.”

You shook on it.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

If you had known three months ago that your deal with Johnny would end in you being dangled off the Empire State Building by New York’s villain-of-the-week, you might have reconsidered your decision. You hadn’t even been in New York when you woke up that morning—you’d been preparing for the final performance of your tour in Los Angeles. Unfortunately for you though, distance is nothing to an alien who can create portals out of thin air, and thus instead of celebrating the final night of your tour with thousands of your adoring fans, some space freakazoid was threatening your life in front of millions of people on live television.

You didn’t even know what the guy wanted. He’d been monologuing obnoxiously at you since he yanked you from your dressing room and through the portal to New York but apparently there weren’t any public speaking classes in space because you had absolutely no clue what he was on about. Odds are, he probably wanted to take over the city or something but whatever it was, you only hoped that Johnny would figure it out in time. The man (if you could even call it that… what were aliens’ stances on gender?) holding you hostage had made it very clear that you were the bargaining chip for Johnny specifically. As it were currently though, the flamebrain in question was nowhere to be found. Three of the four were gathered high up in the air on one of Sue’s invisible forcefield things but it was evident that wherever Johnny was, he was too preoccupied to come save your life. Figures.

You couldn’t really hear much over the combination of blood pumping in your ears and the wind rushing by but from what you could see, it appeared as though everyone around you was doing an awful lot of talking as opposed to saving like you were hoping for. Thinking on it though, given that you were over a thousand feet in the air, how much saving could the other three really do without Johnny? It wasn’t like any of them could fly. Did this mean you were doomed? Your train of thought seemed to be corroborated by the sudden rrrrrrrip of the back of your bodysuit that the villain was suspending you by. The tear didn’t rip through the costume completely but you squeaked pathetically as the separating fabric dropped you closer to your impending doom a thousand feet below.

Realistically, you realized you should have alerted the Three to your escalating problem but in the adrenaline of the moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to open your mouth, let alone make any voluntary noise or coherent commentary. How did they (and Johnny) do this every day? Performing for crowds of thousands was a walk in the park compared to this. This was horrible. If you made it through this, you were going to tell all four of them how grateful you were for the sacrifices they all made on their mental health.

Once again, your train of thought was interrupted by a bigger, louder rrrrrrriiiip as the costume tore some more. You tried harder to say something, anything but looking down and seeing the city over a thousand feet below you stole your breath in a not-so-pleasant way that had you both choking and hyperventilating at the same time. You managed to tear your eyes away from the ground and over to the Fantastic Three-Fourths but by the time that happened, you were only able to squeak out a “Help” before your costume split clean in half and you were falling backwards through the New York City skyline.

If anyone were to ask you, you would most definitely not recommend freefall. Why anyone would do this willingly was beyond you. If it wasn’t before, skydiving was definitely off your bucket list now. Though you guessed that maybe it was different when you chose it as opposed to having it thrust upon you in the form of some deranged, costume-wearing alien. Forget gratitude, you thought. I probably won’t live through this but if I do, I’m going to give Johnny a real piece of my mind.

When you asked Johnny about it later, the thing he said haunted him the most in the nights that followed was the sound of your screams as he pushed his flames to grow hotter, stronger, begging them to help him gather velocity and just please god get to her in time—. You don’t remember screaming. All you remember is the force of the wind against your back and the brightness of the sky above as you plummeted rapidly toward the concrete below. It happened in the blink of an eye—one moment you were certain the puffy clouds above would be the last thing you’d ever see, and the next, your vision was bombarded with red hot flames and your stomach swooped as you were swiftly grabbed around the waist as Johnny changed direction.

He flew you both around the corner so the Empire State was out of sight before making your descent back onto solid ground. You swayed on your feet for a moment, Johnny’s arms shooting out to catch you when your knees inevitably buckled. He pulled you in even closer to him, tucking your head securely into his chest, and you allowed it for a beat as you caught your breath before suddenly tearing yourself from his grasp and pounding your fists against his chest.

“Where the hell were you!” You seethed. “I almost died, Jonathan Lowell Spencer Storm!”

“I know, I know,” he tried to take hold of your wrists, gently caressing them with his thumbs, but you ripped them away to continue beating your fists against his chest.

“Three months ago, you said you would wait for me but here we are three months later and you couldn’t care less that I was being dangled over the edge of the freakin’ Empire State Building—!”

“I was in LA,” he defended as you continued talking over him.

“—So much for second chances, huh? What’s your excuse this time? You were away visiting your hot model friend in Ibiza?”

“I was in LA!” He repeated louder this time, trapping your face between both of his abnormally warm hands and tilting it to face him.

You stopped short, taking in a few breaths as your mind struggled to catch up with his claim.

“What the hell do you mean, you were in LA?” You squinted at him in suspicion. “I thought superheroes didn’t take vacations, what were you doing in LA of all places?”

“Waiting for you to perform,” his eyes stared into yours with a devotion so intense you almost didn't believe you were looking at the real Johnny.

“What?” You blinked in disbelief. “Johnny, if this is a joke, it isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking, sweetheart.”

The corners of his lips tilted up nervously, self-consciously. You didn’t think he was capable of it, but there he was. Your eyes flickered rapidly between his, trying to catch him out in a lie, but you couldn’t find one. You couldn’t help it—you kissed him. And damn, if it didn’t feel good after over a year of angst and pining that you thought would never be requited. After a moment of letting your mind run away from you, you pulled away from him, resting your hands over his pounding heart and your forehead against his.

“Wait,” you panted. “You really haven’t seen any other girls in the last three months?”

“Haven’t had to when I knew I had you waiting for me.”

He went back in for another kiss but you used the leverage of your hands on his chest to hold him away from you.

“Ah-ah-ah, not so fast, you temptress.”

He chuckled darkly, eyes fluttering lustfully between your eyes and your lips.

“You swear you haven’t seen any other girls since I last saw you,” you confirmed.

“Not one,” he squeezed your hip affectionately. “I swear it.”

You couldn’t help it any longer. You sunk your fingers into his golden curls and pulled him back to your lips, smiling when you felt how he melted against you. Unfortunately for you though, this wasn’t the time for your happy reunion. Johnny frowned and looked adorably confused when you pulled away again.

“What did I do now?”

You giggled, giving him another peck for the road before gently pushing him away.

“You gotta go save the world, Flamebrain,” you backed away with a flirty wink. “I’ll be waiting.”

And even through all your hardships, as Johnny flamed on and flew back toward New York’s newest resident space loser, you couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

#johnny storm #human torch #fantastic four #fantastic 4 #mcu #marvel #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm x you #johnny storm fanfiction #johnny storm fic #the human torch #the fantastic four #susan storm #reed richards #ben grimm #deadpool and wolverine #chris evans characters #chris evans #chris evans x reader

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