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poeghoul · 1 year ago

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hard times

in which harry is grumpy and mean and has a scary job

word count: 3,315 warnings: angst, semi-mafia!harry, a single mention of drugs, semi-gun violence, harassment. do not read if opposed to any of the topics mentioned. authors note: i haven’t written in years so this may be bad. inspired by "western nights" by ethel cain.

Harry met Niall at a small diner called The Vinyl booth at 9:37pm, an oddly specific time Niall gave to him, Harry thought. Niall had been interested in forming a connection with Harry, seeing as he’s the biggest drug supplier in all of northern California. Niall loved The Vinyl Booth; he loved taking his girls there every other Sunday after church. It was a warm, cozy diner, with checkered flooring and a jukebox that only worked if you kicked it in the right spot.

“Harry!” Niall exclaimed, excited to finally be meeting with him after hearing about him for so long. Harry gave him a curt nod as Niall put his hand out for him. Harry took his and grunted as Niall brought him in for a weird semi hug that men do. “Good to finally meet ya,” Niall smiled and held the door open for him, a little bell attached to the handle sounded. Harry walked in first as Niall followed behind and stood while they waited for someone to seat them.

“Niall? What are you doing here so late?” A girl approached the two men, smiling at Niall before grabbing two menus.

“Y/n!” Niall exclaimed, returning an even bigger smile than she had initially sent him, “just needed a little late night treat.”

“Of course you did, come on,” she led the two to a corner booth, “I’ll be back with some coffee.” She smiled at the two and Harry noticed she hadn’t greeted him or even made eye contact with him once, which infuriated him; he was used to everyone showing him the respect he swears he deserves.

She walked back with two small gray ceramic mugs in her hands before turning again to get the coffee pot (Harry assumed they hadn’t brewed a fresh batch in some hours, disgusting him even more than he already was with the sticky menu he was holding). She went to pour some into Nialls mug before Harry decided to speak up.

“When was that brewed?” Y/n looked up as she stopped pouring the coffee.

“Um,” she paused, trying to remember when she last even touched the pot, “maybe around 5,” she shrugged, phrasing it more as a question than a statement.

Harry scoffed, “and you expect us to be okay with drinking that?” he practically shouted at the girl; she was taken aback, furrowing her brows and cocking her head to the side. “Get him a new mug and brew a fresh batch, we’re not drinking coffee that’s been sitting out for nearly five hours.” he spat. Niall went to speak up and Harry shot him the deadliest glare the man had ever seen, effectively shutting Niall up.

“I’ll get on it,” she murmured as she bowed her head, picked up Nialls mug and spun on her heel, heading towards the sink to dump out the hour's old coffee.

“You didn’t have to shout at her, Harry,” Niall scolded the man like he was a four year old. Harry just looked at him and shook his head, going to speak up before deciding against it.

The bell on the door rang. It was one of his security guards; he had told both (one of them planning on coming in three before 10pm, the time they closed) to observe the interaction between the two men; one to scope out Niall, and two to make sure Harry made it out alive. With what Harry did, not making it out of the diner was an option. The burly man sat down in a booth facing Harry directly.

Y/n was at the coffee pot, pouring in new coffee grinds and pressing at the brewing options, though there couldn’t have been more than one option with how old the machine was. She looked up as the man sat down, a puzzled look taking over her features; Harry couldn’t stop staring.

Y/n approached him, “Hi,” she smiled at him, “I’m y/n I’ll be taking care of you today, can I start you off with some coffee? I’m brewing some right now so it’ll be the freshest coffee of your life,” she joked with him, purposefully being loud enough for Harry to hear; he just narrowed his eyes at her and, instead of gazing at her, he began glaring. The man just nodded. She gave a half smile before walking back to where the two men were sat, pulling out a small notepad and pen from her apron. “Oki doki, Niall I know what you want already,” she smiled at him, a dimple forming in her cheek. She looked at Harry, “how about you? Have enough time to look the menu over?” He hadn’t even opened it.

“No,” he said simply. Her smile faded, a puzzled look taking over her features.

“Oh, well, do you have any questions?” She tucked her pen and notepad into a small pocket on the black apron that was folded and tied around her waist.

“No,” he replied, a bitter tone, “I would like some fresh coffee though, if you’re capable,” he tried his hardest to contain his smirk.

If y/n didn’t care about her job, she’d bark at him. If y/n didn’t care about the owners and how close she had gotten to them, she would’ve taken her pen from her apron and jammed it in his hand with all her might. And if y/n had the guts to either of those, she would. She cares, though, far too much to do either of those; so instead, she smiled and prayed that her eye wouldn’t start twitching.

“Of course, sir,” she turned and rolled her eyes, mimicking him under her breath. Harry heard her, but didn’t say anything. She grabbed another mug and the coffee pot, almost burning her knuckles in the process. She placed Nialls mug before him and poured into his new one, making sure to leave room for creamer. “Room for cream?” She made eye contact with Harry. He shook his head, humming a ‘no’. She tried her best to fill it to where it would spill on him if he picked it up too quickly, and made her way to the only other patron in the small diner. The bell on the door rang again, but it wasn’t who Harry was expecting.

Y/n looked up at the character who walked into and watched as he walked past her and sat at the counter. Nobody ever came in this late, three of them looked scary and they were all men. She felt her heart skip some beats in the worst way. Thankfully, two of the cooks were here, but they were already upset with her for seating guests twenty something minutes before closing.

She walked behind the counter, setting the pot down on the heater, and walked to the man at the counter. She noticed his red ringed, dark brown eyes. “Hi, I’m y/n,” she started her script, “I’ll be taking care of you tonight, what can I get ya started with?” She grabbed her notepad and pen, again, hoping he knew what he wanted to eat so she’d have an excuse to go into the back, wanting to be with the men she’d known for some time, rather than three suspicious men and Niall (who, according to her, was far too gentle to hurt a fly).

He smiled at her; it made her stomach curl. “Orange juice, please, and a mixed cheese omelette.” She scribbled in her notepad, muttering a ‘got it’ before scrambling to the back to put the order in.

“So,” Niall began, causing Harry to finally look away from the door the girl had basically run through. “I know you didn’t agree to meeting me here for the chorizo and eggs plate,” he joked at Harry. He gave a curt nod. Niall cleared his throat. “I know you have a busy schedule, so I’ll get right to it,” the bell on the door sounded again. Three minutes before closing, right on time. His other bodyguard walked past the two and sat at another end of the counter. Y/n peaked her head through the swinging door, looking around before setting her eyes on the last patron to walk in. She sighed before walking out and giving him her whole spiel.

“Coffee, please,” the man smiled at her. She was grateful for someone, other than Niall, to show her some kindness in a non creepy way. She turned to grab another mug and the pot of coffee and made her way back to him.

“Long night?” she asked him while pouring into his mug. He nodded and smiled at her, offering her a thank you. Harry felt a twinge of jealousy in his chest.

Niall continued to speak to him, though Harry tuned him out, granting him responses in the form of grunts. He watched the girl bring out the orange juice for the boy at the counter before going into the back and returning with a bowl of prepackaged creamers. “Sorry, Niall, the creamers completely slipped my mind.”

“Not a big deal, y/n, I knew you’d get around to it,” he reached into the bowl, grabbing a package and ripping it open to pour into his coffee. He did that four more times, turning the near black brown to a light, almost white shade.

She looked at Harry, his eyes already on her, “finally decided?” he shook his head. She just stared, no emotion on her face.

“Just get him the same thing as me, please” Niall awkwardly cut in. Y/n’s gaze softened, looking at him and smiled, before nodding and walking off. Harry, still, couldn’t stop staring; watching how she walked and moved and how she reacted to every word said to her. He also noticed how the boy at the counter did the same. Niall continued to talk at him about a deal he was wishing to make. Something about expanding Harry’s territory and getting a small cut. From what Harry heard, it wasn’t a bad proposal.

+++

“Thanks, again, for meeting with me, Harry” Niall shook his hand, a beaming smile plastered on his face. Harry offered him a pursed smile in return. “Get home safe.” Harry nodded, watching as Niall turned to walk to his car.

Harry turned to his, getting in the backseat, greeted by his bodyguard, Daniel, who’d entered the restaurant earlier. They sat in silence as they waited for the final of the two men, Jax, to return to the car. Harry had sent him a message halfway through their meal, asking (more like demanding) him to stay in the diner until the skeptical character had left; he left a bitter taste in Harry’s mouth and he just wanted to ensure the safety of the girl he was fascinated by.

He waited. And waited. Bit at his nails, ran his hands through his hair, groaned many times and waited even more.

Time seemed to go by so slowly. He stared into the window, watching the three of them closely. His left leg was bouncing up and down, an unfamiliar sense of anxiety coursing through him. Huffing through his nose, he ran his hand through his hair. He hated how he was feeling, and judging by her body language, she was feeling similarly.

Y/n stood with the coffee pot, having had to make another batch as the group of men continued to order more and more cups throughout the night, waiting for the two men to leave so she could crawl into bed. She had been here close to eleven hours now, and was growing anxious being practically trapped in a room with two strange men she had never seen, especially since the two cooks had left for the night (she was too scared to ask them to stay, not wanting to be a bother but she desperately regrets that now).

The bigger man of the two sat glaring at the smaller one, watching his every move. Y/n could tell he was growing uncomfortable with harsh eyes on him at all times; it made her feel safer, though.

The small one offered her a small smile, asking for the check silently. She felt a wave of relief to soon have him out of her hair. She couldn’t wait to leave; she had already wiped down all the tables, swept, asked the two men if they’d be paying cash or card, and when they both replied with card, she closed out the cash drawer on the register. She was eager, practically vibrating. Nothing planned for the night, she just couldn’t wait to step outside into the fresh air, feeling suffocated in the small space of the diner.

She handed the small receipt to him and he immediately offered her his card, making sure to graze her hand with his. She noted how cold and pale it was. A small ‘thank you’ before a pursed smile graced her features. She ran his card through the machine, printed a receipt and handed the two over. He smiled at her, leaving a ten on the counter before walking out.

Outside, Harry noted the movement inside the diner, watching the weird man walk out of the restaurant and around the corner to where, he assumed, was a back alley. Jax walked out shortly after, y/n walking to the door behind him to lock it before heading to the back, but he hesitated to leave, still. The lights shut off shortly after. He couldn’t make out much more.

The door opened and, though he could barely see her silhouette, he could tell she was locking the door behind her. She stood in front of the diner, typing away at her phone. He groaned at how oblivious she was to her surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a head peeking around a corner. He unlocked his door, prepared to jump to her defense at any given moment. The man who peeked around the corner fully emerged and walked up behind y/n, his hands in the pockets of his oversized jacket. He said something to her, Harry couldn’t hear what, and she practically jumped out of her skin. She turned around with wide eyes and slipped her phone in her back pocket.

“Oh,” she gasped, “hey, did you leave anything inside?”

He grinned at her, “no, actually was just wondering what you were up to after this.” she gulped.

“Um,” she tried to think of something, anything, to lie about, but blanked. “I’m just, uh, gonna hang out with my friends,” she rushed out. His grin turned into a smirk.

“You sure?” She nodded. His smirk vanished. “You’re lying.” she shook her head, a small ‘I’m not’ escaping her lips. “Yes, you are,” he stepped closer to her, “I hate liars.”

“I’m not lying,” she backed up, her breathing picking up. He stepped even closer.

“Now you’re lying again,” he glared down at her, “must I teach you what happens to liars?” Her eyes began to well with tears. A car door slammed. A gun pressed against the boy's temple. His eyes widened.

“Touch her and I’ll blow your fucking head off,” Harry snarled, pressing the gun even harder against him.

“I-I wasn’t, I swear, I swear,” he barely made out. Tears began pouring out of y/n’s eyes.

“Okay, so then tell me what you were gonna do, hm,” with his free hand, Harry grabbed y/n, pulling her behind him. She hid her face in his back and gripped his shirt in both hands, trying to focus on controlling her breathing.

“Nothing! Nothing, I swear,” he cried out.

“You swear, hm?” he let out a breathy laugh, “Why’d you wait for her, hm? Why’d you hide back there?” The boy’s mouth just opened and closed; Harry held back a laugh. “Say something, don’t be shy. You weren’t a minute ago.”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I’ll leave right now if you let me, I swear, I promise!” He began to sob.

Harry just pressed harder, “that’s not what I asked, though, is it?” The boy shook his head as best as he could, “then answer my questions.”

“I just, I wanted to see her.”

Harry laughed, “so you wanted to see her, and you couldn't have done it in a normal manner? Couldn’t have asked to hang out rather than hiding in a fucking alley waiting for her when you knew she’d be most vulnerable, fucking scum,” he spat out, inching his face closer to his.

He sobbed, “I’m so sorry.”

Harry moved the gun from his temple, but not before he pressed a little bit harder. “Get in the car,” he muttered, keeping the gun pointed at him and ushering y/n with his back towards the backseat of a black Range Rover. She opened the door and jumped in before Harry did the same. He put the gun in his holster, secured under his jacket. He looked to y/n, who was shaking in the middle seat. “You okay?” She nodded, her face down, staring at her fingers picking at a loose thread on her jeans. “I’m sorry,” Harry apologized to her, anger surged through his veins and he wished he could get out and have the opportunity to pull the trigger pointed to the back of the boy's head. The car started and pulled out of the parking lot. “We’ll take you home, I’ll send someone to stay in the general area for your safety,” she looked up at him with watery eyes.

“Okay.”

“Can you give me an address, please,” he handed the phone to her, with trembling hands she took it and typed out her address. It was a six minute walk. “How were you planning to get home?” she handed back the phone.

“I walk.”

“For every shift?” she nodded. “I don’t like that,” he admitted.

“It’s only, like, five minutes,” she shrugged, still not making eye contact.

“Still don’t like it,” he ran his hands through his hair, sighing. She picked at her nails, chewing on her bottom lip.

The drive was short, two right turns and they arrived at her apartment complex. Harry opened the door and helped her out, following her up the stairs, standing close behind her as she unlocked the door.

“It’s a little messy, sorry,” she opened the door and led him in. He stood in the entryway, taking in the details of the decorations that filled the small space (it was a small studio apartment, big enough for Y/n, but far too small for Harry). Her bed wasn’t made, with halloween sheets and decorative pillows on the floor next to the bed, and the only chair in the apartment was covered in laundry.

“It’s not bad,” he looked down at her while she gazed at him. Harry loved the way she looked at him and hated that he loved it.

“Thank you for taking me home and ya know,” she smiled at him. He nodded.

“I’ll send someone to take you to work and bring you home for the next few days, need to make sure you’re safe,” he took a deep breath in, stepping closer to her, his hand reaching up to graze her cheek, resting it as he caressed the soft skin with the pad of his thumb. He looked down at her, a glint in his eyes she couldn’t make out. His gaze shifted to her lips, his hand stilled and she tilted her head up in the slightest.

His expression changed, he removed his hand, and he stepped back. “You’ll know when they’re here. Goodnight,” and with that, he turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Her cheek felt cold.

She missed his touch.

And that would be all she thought about for the rest of the night.

troubles always gonna find you baby, but so will i.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles fics #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfic #harry one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry #harry styles fiction #Ethel cain

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notjustjavierpena · 10 months ago

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Diner

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: My first darkfic and based on that one picture of Pedro in Freaky Tales. READ THE TAGS!!!!

Summary: You get more than you paid for during your visit to a roadside diner.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non-con, degrading language, condescending language, blood and violence, threats of violence, forced masturbation, forced orgasm, forced creampie, reader does NOT enjoy this!

Word count: 3.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52941784

Diner

Something about roadside diners makes you feel like you are in an alternate universe. It starts the second that you step out of your car and onto the asphalt, a weird sensation of not being in the real world overtaking you as you listen to the cars drive by at a dizzying speed. There are a few cars here already, but you suspect that most of them belong to the people staying at the motel just next to the small and informal restaurant instead of people eating dinner. It is late after all, so late that you can see you are just in time for a coffee before they close.

You’ve been driving home in the summer heat for your sister’s wedding, crossing state lines for days now to make it in time, and it means quick dinners, cheap coffee, and sleeping in your car. At this point, you’ve actually come to like the greasy fried food and the coffee that almost resembles tar with how strong it is. It helps you regulate your body temperature in the car, forcing you to cool down because it’s scalding hot in your stomach.

A tiny bell rings as you walk through the door. The checkered tile floor seems slightly sticky as you move through the place with the taste of stale coffee already present on your tongue as if the setting has triggered a memory. You notice the single customer sitting in a booth along the window, all broad shoulders and sleeves rolled up as he eats two slices of toast with eggs and bacon, but you don’t think much of the man as much as you think about eating breakfast foods at night. It’s always oddly satisfying, weirdly rebellious.

You squeeze in between two chairs from the line along the counter. You brush away a few granules of sugar from it, smiling slightly as you are approached by what you assume is the only staff at this time.

“Just coffee?” The lady behind the counter asks as she notices you not looking at the menu and not checking out the pie underneath a glass dome to your left.

“That’d be great,” you reply.

“And no milk or nothin’?” She continues.

You shake your head no and look around at nothing of importance the second she walks away to start up the coffee machine. It gurgles a few moments later.

Behind you, the man has finished his meal. He gets out of the booth to use the restroom, leaving you to sip your coffee alone with the waitress who makes no effort to start up a conversation with you (then again, you don’t start chatting with her either).

Time passes. The song playing from the radio in the background ends. The stranger reemerges and shakes his hands dry on his way to his table again. He doesn’t sit but instead carries his plate to the counter.

“Thanks, Doris, great like always,” he smiles, turning to you briefly to acknowledge your presence. He nods in greeting.

“Anytime, Joel,” Doris blinks at him, batting her lashes. She is clearly infatuated, and you can understand why; the two of them seem to be about the same age. Joel is tall with broad shoulders in an open flannel with a t-shirt underneath, his hands look rough and used to hard labor, and his hair is slicked back by what you don’t know whether is gel or sweat but it looks like he has run his fingers through it several times today.

“Well, I’m off, see ya tomorrow,” he turns to go gather his things at the table where he has been eating. You think nothing more of it.

“Anything else, honey?” Doris asks and you shake your head.

“No thanks,” you say politely, “I’m all good.”

“I’ll have my smoke break then,” she states, untying her apron and hanging it on the wall only to proceed to dig out a package of cigarettes from the pocket on the front, “You can just leave the money on the counter when you leave.”

And then it’s just you and Joel and an eerie feeling settles in your stomach at being alone with a man you don’t know, especially in between cities and even moreso at night.

You glance over your shoulder to watch him carefully but he is just picking through his wallet to leave a tip on the table. You look straight ahead again and shake your head at how ridiculous you feel about your anxiety, rolling your eyes at how you could think such things about someone who is having eggs at midnight.

Still, something feels wrong. You steal another glance over your shoulder and see the table with the empty plate, and the crumbled bill beside it. What you don’t see is Joel, which is weird because you haven’t heard the bell from the door being opened and clo-

A rough hand settles on the back of your neck. It grips you hard until it hurts, causing you to crane your neck and gasp loudly into the room. Joel’s voice makes your skin crawl, “Fuck, you are pretty.”

You hear a deep inhale through the nose followed by a satisfied sigh, “Smell pretty too. Been driving all day alone?”

“What are you doing?” You are frozen to the spot. He has trapped you between the counter, two barstool chairs, and himself. The hand holding you in place is uncomfortable but mostly, its iron grip has started to make you lightheaded due to his thumb and index finger pressing into your carotid artery. It makes you not want to move in case he grabs harder.

“I just realized that I haven’t had dessert in a while ‘n’ pie just doesn’t seem to cut it,” he replies, breathing labored already from how he has control over what your body can or cannot do. The words make you squirm but you still, for some reason, haven’t thought about screaming for help.

“No,” your voice quivers and bravely you try to decline the offer, “I don’t want that. Please.”

“Afraid you’ll like it too much?” You can feel he has moved his head closer, can feel the smirk in his voice. You feel sick like you might actually puke if you weren’t working on an empty stomach.

“Doris’ll come back,” you reason.

“She’s closing up in ten,” he laughs as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard, “She’ll use every second of those ten minutes to have what she considers fresh air but I don’t think we need much longer, do you?”

You whimper, and then suddenly you’re on the move but it’s not by yourself. No. Joel is hauling you backward, moving you around like you weigh nothing, and causing your feet to stumble several times. However, he doesn’t seem bothered by your clumsiness caused by terror, just uses a bit more force until he can shove you down onto an empty table.

That’s when you feel panic starting to rise in your body. You start thrashing, grabbing at whatever you can reach on the table to throw it down onto the floor and make a racket. You cry too, shock setting in and causing tears to flow desperately as emotions become too much. This is it, you think, this is what prey must feel when they’re trying to escape.

Joel growls in anger, holding you roughly in place so your efforts are to no avail, “Shut the fuck up. Stop crying.”

You absolutely don’t. That is until your forehead and nose connect with the surface of the table. Joel has pushed you on the back of your head so harshly that your face has been violently knocked down onto the table, and it hurts, prickling in your nostrils and nausea settling more in your stomach. The impact makes you feel dizzy enough to not continue fighting him.

A sudden taste of iron fills your mouth. You are bleeding from your nose, you realize, and it replaces the salty taste of your tears and drips onto the surface of the table. Pathetically, you try grabbing at anything in front of you and you end up smearing the bloodstains across the white. It’s not the sight that makes you gag but the fact that Joel seems aroused by it.

“Relax,” he responds to your whine, “‘tis just a bit of blood.”

But that’s not what causes your noise. It’s the position you are in; it makes your ass stick out and Joel’s crotch rests against it whilst he reaches out for your hair, bunching it up in his strong hand and creating a makeshift ponytail to tug on. You try to make sense of what is happening but all you can focus on is how big he seems in his jeans, rock hard against you as he yanks your head up by the hair. It may be your foggy mind’s way of protecting yourself from realizing what this is, particularly because you had a brief thought earlier about how nice his hands would feel if they touched you. They feel horrible.

When he straightens behind you, his free hand starts tugging on your pants. He is rough in his movements but careful enough to make sure that nothing rips, knowing he shouldn’t leave evidence of your ravish behind.

“Please,” you slur with desperation.

“No begging now,” he purposely misunderstands, “I’ll give you what you need real soon, sweetheart.”

When your pants sit around your knees, he lets the hand go down between your legs. Your mind is suddenly very clear.

“Are you a virgin?” He asks with a dark smile evident in his voice. His hand skims along the inside of your thigh, and you feel your feet trying to move away. His fingertips are so close to where you don’t want them. He kicks your ankles hard enough to make you unable to breathe, unable to balance on your feet so you can’t even try to flee.

You whimper in reply.

The satisfied growl he lets out sends a shiver down your spine, cold sweat making you feel lightheaded.

“No,” you finally manage to stutter out, trying to convince yourself that replying is going to make the heartbeat in your chest less intense as you’ve made yourself less interesting to him. Instead, you realize that you have only disappointed him.

“Just when I got my hopes up,” he tuts, suddenly palming your cunt through your underwear. You want to scream and cry but somehow, you simply cannot and it dawns on you that your body is too scared of making him furious to do your most instinctive act of fighting back, “Can’t say I’m happy, but I am surprised at having a whore on my hands. Wait till I tell the guys back home ‘bout you, they’ll be so envious.”

His fingers curl around the fabric of your panties. He tugs them down your thighs and the fabric snaps at the violent yanks that he does. It was only the pants, you think, it was only those that needed to be saved for keeping up appearances.

The way the skin of his hand touches your bare thighs feels like fire, and you don’t know whether to feel relief that nothing has happened yet or become hysterical when your underwear sits around your knees too; you know the rest, know what he is about to do and now, you just have to wait for it to be over.

And then briefly, it’s gone but you don’t dare think that he might have changed his mind but when you lift your head, you can see him in the reflection of the window, sucking on his own fingers to wet them until they’re shiny with saliva.

“Stay still,” he commands, and the hand on the back of your neck slides down so he can rest his forearm on the small of your back to still hold you down. His wetted fingers go right between your legs to search for your clit, and he presses down on it until you let out a whimper from a sudden state of arousal slowly taking over your body.

He rubs you off for a few minutes where you fight every single nerve in your body to not enjoy it but suddenly you let out your first involuntary moan, pussy starting to wet against your will and shame setting in. You rest your cheek against the table, tears sliding down over your nose as you occasionally moan helplessly. Your poor treacherous body burns deep below your navel, and the tingling in your core makes you think that maybe, just maybe, it won’t be so bad.

“That’s it,” he says in a gentle voice, a tone that makes you hold back a gag, “Knew you wanted it, just needed a little encouragement.”

“Please,” you sob, “I can pay you.”

“I don’t want cash,” he replies simply, sliding his digits through your slick, “I want you, sweetheart, and it seems this pussy wants me too.”

Joel’s fingers leave you and you hear him suck his fingers clean with a hum. The air feels cool against your swollen cunt which is so wet by now that you start to believe, albeit barely, that a part of you wants this. How can you say you don’t when you are close to dripping?

“I’m gonna let go of you now but if you try anything, I’ll cut your fucking tits off with a steak knife, got it?” Joel’s threat doesn’t seem empty.

You nod, paralyzed, and he stretches. You shiver at the sound of his belt unbuckling and his zipper being pulled down. There’s a bit of shuffling and then you feel the blunt head of his dick poking into your ass.

He doesn’t waste his time it seems, because he rubs the tip through your wetness and starts to breach you. Color drains from your face at the realization of his size.

“No, no no no,” you pant as he pushes into you. He teases you open but only at first; you let out a sharp cry as he enters you fully and with no warning. The head had been a warning of how big he was going to be but now that he is sheathed inside of you to the brim, you feel like nothing could have ever prepared you for his size even if you had wanted him. He kisses your cervix, splits you open, and your cunt clenches in an attempt to push him out and pull him in.

“Fuck,” he moans and draws out the word, “Tight heaven.”

He fucks you like a ravenous animal and you turn into a helplessly moaning mess, held down to the point where your hips are hurting against the table because Joel uses all of his weight to pleasure himself with you.

His fingers dig into your hips enough to bruise and his zipper gnaws into the back of your thigh. You have never taken anyone as big as him before, and it’s almost an out-of-body experience to be stretched out again and again by him. He swears above you, rhythm faltering, every time you accidentally find a shred of pleasure in his thrusts.

You feel fucked out of your mind but you are stuck there, having to take each bruising thrust that sends pain shooting through your body each time Joel’s cock bumps the back of your cunt (which is every other crash of his hips due to his size).

“Ah,” you whimper shamefully when he nudges against your g-spot. It takes some of the pain away, and soon, you let out a breathless gasp. Would you actually enjoy him if circumstances had been different? If he’d chatted you up and booked a room at the motel next door?

You close your eyes, squeezing them shut. It leaves you to focus on the way that your cunt squelches from your wetness, how Joel grunts behind you as he continues driving into you.

“Listen to that, you really think your whore-pussy would sound like that if you didn’t want this?” He taunts.

“No, Joel,” you say without any tone to your voice.

“You wanna come, sweetheart? Touch yourself,” he pulls you back by your hips a little until you are able to move your hand to your crotch. His thrusts relent and bring you relief from your throbbing and pained muscles. You don’t move, and he grows impatient and cruel. You almost want to laugh at the contrast of his next line but you find yourself too scared of the unknown, “You think you get a choice here, you little bitch? Do it now.”

Reluctantly, your hand slides down between your legs but you still feel relief as you start touching yourself. In the moment, you try to remind yourself of what you like to do when it’s just you alone and you find that your cunt stirs with interest. It’s followed by a string of ahs as you begin to actually enjoy it, circling your clit with determination to finish.

“That’s it, wanna feel you milk me,” his breath is more ragged now. He is close you realize, and he is not going to pull out.

It feels shameful when you make yourself come, cunt setting off into spasms that should feel beautiful but just makes you hate yourself for enjoying the way they make you feel. You moan louder than intended, completely at the mercy of the pleasure that has been built up deep inside of you and is now coursing through your nervous system.

Joel seems to understand your conflict, radiating claustrophobic warmth as he speeds up his hips as if he is using your body to masturbate with you. His voice is breathy as he talks, he sounds nearly on the edge of coming, “Shh… It’s supposed to feel good. It should feel good.”

He finishes inside of you a moment later, warm and sticky with a looming threat of what could happen from this act. The groan he lets out is one you don’t think you will forget. He gives you his final thrusts, fucking you through each spurt of his cock, “Take it, oh fuck. Thaaat’s it.”

Time stands still after that. You don’t move despite him removing himself from you. Instead, you listen to him tugging himself back into his jeans, the rustling of the denim, and then the noise of his zipper and him buckling his belt.

After a moment more, his hands pull up off your shredded underwear and then he tugs your jeans up over your hips again. He hauls you up and holds your arms tightly so you don’t fall over once more. You don’t look at him and it seems to infuriate him. With a strong grip around your jaw, he forces your head towards him, “Hey, look at me.”

When you still don’t, he shakes your head a little, “Eyes here.”

You eventually follow through, vision blurry from how much you have cried. He scans your face, “You don’t tell anyone about this or I swear. I don’t usually hunt down pretty girls like you but I will. You go into your car and you drive away. I’ll watch you from here. Got it?”

Your body aches as you nod but your expression is blank, even when Joel pushes you out of his grip so you stumble and even when you see him stuff your panties into his pocket.

“Go,” he snaps when you’re still immovable.

You don’t know how but suddenly, you’re walking out the door, barely noticing where your feet hit the ground, and doing exactly what he has said. You probably shouldn’t even be driving let alone on the highway but you do until you feel nothing at all except his come dripping from your aching cunt.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #my writing

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sweetwriter · 9 months ago

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Mafia Toji x black fem reader

Black Reader loves to cook

YN isn’t stupid, she’s been with Toji for a while. A bunch of big scary men that have records- c’mon now. She knew, but that doesn’t mean that she can’t still be loving and caring.

“Love, the men are coming over for a meeting- just wanted to let you know.” He said while coming up behind you to hug your waist.

Toji has wanted this for- forever. Growing up in an abusive household he learned to lick love off of sharp knives. YN was different; she gave love so freely. She inadvertently taught him that real love has boundaries, fun moments, and tough ones. She was willing to stick by him during the tough times and the good ones.

“They are? What for? Bad deal?” She said hovering over the kitchen, “No, we have a new guy coming in.” YN let out a shriek, “REALLY- oh my gosh, I need to go to the store, I don’t have enough ingredients. I’m making pot roast, make sure to post up my menu on the counter so they can be ready.” Toji watching as YN rushes around checking the pantries for whatever ingredients she needs. Toji always thought that she was cute like this. The kitchen is her home inside of her home.

Whenever he gives her his black card all the transactions say “William Sanoma” “Farmers Market” “Fish shops” She of course buys nice clothes, but any kitchen store, she’s in.

“Where are you going, take Megumi with you”

“Meg baby come on youre gonna come with me to the store.” Little Megumi waddled over to her smiling about the store.

YN always said adventures for kids can be anywhere as long as you have the excitement for it; that’s why Megumi loves going to the store with his mom (found mom).

As YN helps Megumi put on his shoes she grabs her list and gives it to Megumi, he’s her little checker- to make sure they have all the ingredients.

Toji watches them walk out when he hears Gojo come up behind him, “Where did Ms. YN go?”

“The store” Toji said with a chuckle, gojo chuckles.

“Finally some good food, Ms YN ruined fast food for me.”

"What- so my takeout isn't good enough for your spoiled ass?" Toji sneered.

"No need to get all riled up bossman, everyone knows Ms YN knows how to cook up a storm."

#imagine #fanfiction #black reader #my writing #jujustu kaisen #toji x reader #toji x black reader #drabble #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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jokeroutsubs · 16 days ago

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📝ENG Translation: Elle Men Special: A Fashion Odyssey with Kris Guštin

Article written by Ajda Gregorc, published in the November/December 2024 ELLE Slovenia Magazine. Print and digital versions of the magazine are available for purchase.

Scans and English translation by @kurooscoffee, review by @weolucbasu and a member of JokerOutSubs, proofread by IG GBoleyn123.

Full article translation, scans, and Spotify link are under the cut 👇

🎧 Article available in audio form on Spotify.

Elle Men Special: A Fashion Odyssey with Kris Guštin

With Kris Guštin, the music author and guitarist of Joker Out, we escaped to another side of music, and with that, to his other passion. We talked about style and everything connected to it. There will also be no shortage of this in the band's third album, titled 'Souvenir Pop', which is released on the 15th of November—one week after the issue of Elle you’re holding now. How perfectly synchronised we are!

PHOTOS URŠA PREMIK, STYLING ALENKA BIRK

At Ljubljana’s Moderna Café, on a fresh but lovely autumn Tuesday, when everyone’s still at work or in school, he arrives in a dark green jacket with a checkered pattern, awesome trousers, and her necklace. This time, the menu is not serving music and life, but matcha and "all things fashion." I’m in a regular trench coat and a white T-shirt, but luckily he doesn’t judge people by their style—instead, the style might be what piques his interest to converse, if it's good, of course. Besides, he's the one being interviewed. So, let’s begin! AJDA GREGORC

Interviewer: When did you first discover your personal style or the field of fashion? Was it in childhood or a bit later?

Kris: I roughly divide my life into two periods: before I first held a guitar, and after. When I really got into playing and ventured into music, my world opened up in all areas. Discovering fashion definitely falls into this second period, so the post-high school era. To be completely honest, my style in high school wasn’t something I’m particularly proud of today. (laughs) My girlfriend and I still have a photo of me wearing cargo pants and a black sweater, which is a proof she truly loves me, since that look was far from the best choice. (laughs)

When did it evolve from just a aesthetic impression to self-expression?

My first contact with fashion as a form of art or expression was during our band's first music video or fashion shoot, when I realised that this is also something you need to consider as a musician. At first, it seemed to me like a fairly peripheral element, but as our career developed and we met new people who gave us more insight into this, I began to understand its significance, what I could personally gain from it, and what we as a band could gain. This quickly developed into standard practice. I was increasingly exposed to fashion; we had more and more costume rehearsals and stylings, and two years ago, we even got our first proper stylist. And then I really committed to it—at around nineteen or twenty. Before that, my philosophy was always to "just wear whatever I first find in the closet," but then I shifted to "I'll wear things that would make me stand out from others". But this process was a long one.

So, your style development with the band inspired your personal growth too? I’ve always wondered if a young person is compelled to mature in every area when so many 'big things' happen all at once, as they did for you.

Maybe you do "grow old" in terms of personality sooner. Yes, at first I wanted, and still want, to primarily express the difference or uniqueness that I feel inside myself through music, but then I discovered that this goes very much hand in hand with fashion, so I started looking for my expression there as well. Today, it's almost an equally important part of my day.

Which fashion ideas or directions attract you? You’ve probably encountered a lot of inspiration during your travels on tour, right?

Definitely, but speaking purely origin-wise, I think I’m just like any other rock musician—we draw from the rock aesthetic of the ’60s and ’70s, which was also very "in" when my fashion awareness was born. Back then, around 2016 to 2018, here were a lot of flamboyant shirts on the music scene, with a slight hippie influence, which was the starting point. Only later did I start getting interested in slightly more modern clothes. When I was younger, I found myself in street fashion, that sort of Eminem-esque, hip-hop vibe, so very baggy clothes, which I then began to reject when I made the shift toward the ’60s and a slightly psychedelic aesthetic. It makes perfect sense, as humans tend to jump between extremes. When I had worked through that style, I started discovering the aesthetics of the ’80s and late ’90s, which was also reflected in music at the time. The best example that comes to mind is Dua Lipa’s previous album, which was in the style of the “new ’80s,” and the fashion matched that as well. Today, the early 2000s style has come back, but I haven’t fully decided whether I like it or not. As a musician, I was, of course, initially inspired by other music groups. Arctic Monkeys were a big inspiration for us both musically and visually, as was the whole British rock scene, including bands like The Kooks and Oasis. That entire aesthetic has always been strongly present with us. I doubt there’s a single inspiration board at our shoots that doesn’t include a photo of one of those bands or, for instance, the Beatles. And that aesthetic has always been close to my heart, too.

Rockers have always been associated with more masculine fashion elements, while in recent years, many male musicians have been experimenting with more feminine style elements (for example, Harry Styles and Lenny Kravitz). David Bowie was already the one who back then started to blur these fashion boundaries. You, too, wear such pieces and dare to stand out with them.

It happened quite naturally, as the stylists we worked with always chose slightly more “unmanly” clothing for me. This doesn’t necessarily mean women’s clothing, but rather somewhat more androgynous pieces, which I quickly embraced. I found them interesting and appealing because there’s a lot of fresh expression in that style that I don’t find in traditional men’s clothing, though I don’t want to overdo it. I also started experimenting with them personally, choosing many more varied colours. For a while, I was very fond of pink, and lately, I’ve been playing around with orange. On the cover of the album 'Demoni', I wore an orange-pink sweater.

Are we, as an audience here, already mature enough for a musician to present his feminine side through fashion? Does that require courage?

It does, there will always be people who won’t understand you. But for me, when it comes to the stage or a shoot, I’ll wear anything, and if I feel good in it, I don’t worry about what someone thinks. When I walk around "in civilian clothes," however, especially in Ljubljana, I am still aware if I’m dressed somewhat "untraditionally." There’s a certain boundary that I still need to break within myself. On stage, it’s easier because it’s not necessarily a hundred percent my expression; I’m playing a certain character, but personally, sometimes I do need some courage to show up in a particular style. However, the awareness of being different is stronger in Ljubljana than in other parts of the Western world. For example, I never felt that way in London, but still, our capital isn’t the worst when it comes to this.

Speaking of influences, what about other artistic or cultural movements?

I love art deco, the aesthetics of the '20s and '30s, though it doesn’t influence my daily life. In terms of photography, Damon Baker’s black-and-white style is beautiful. The vintage camera aesthetic has recently won me over, which will also be reflected in our band. Musically, over the past year, I’ve been listening to old Italian chansons and older French music, chansons as well, so I’m clearly feeling very retro this year. (smile)

Will the third album visually stand out from the previous ones then?

Yes, it will be very different. In the last two, we used a lot of colours, but there won’t be as many in this one.

Style can be an excellent tool for expressing an artist's authenticity, but with increasing success, the artist can also become its slave; the line is thin. Do you ever feel the pressure of having to express your fashion style in your private life as well?

No, I’ve never felt like my style owns me; it’s always been the opposite. I’ve always felt like I want more, like I want to dress even better than the day before, especially when it comes to my music career. Perhaps style only hangs over my head a bit when I have no inspiration and would rather wear sweatpants on an ordinary, relaxed day. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but then I do think about what would happen if I ended up somewhere in the middle of the city dressed like that.

It seems that Joker Out has developed a distinct style despite outside influences.

Yes, today we are already very complete in our style. Others have definitely had an influence on us, and I think it’s great that each of them tried to express themselves through us – it was interesting to experience how Joker Out was seen by Ponorelli, and how Andraž Drobnič or Karlo Kirri did. Of course, there is a difference in this, but it also aligns with the development of our music and aesthetics, so all these influences are very welcome.

How much of your personal fashion identity is therefore reflected in Joker Out?

Maybe, as someone who is not an external observer, I can't answer that, but I can say that I was always one of the first to give feedback to the stylist when we were creating our outfits, approving moodboards, and so on. So, I have definitely shaped our style in a direction that suits me. On certain "blind stylings," when we just dressed up, I quickly threw something on myself and then helped look for pieces for the other band members.

What about this photoshoot, where Alenka Birk took over the styling? Did you let her take the lead with her tactics, or did you collaborate on fashion choices? How did the communication go?

I didn’t know Alenka, who, by the way, is an excellent stylist, before. She was recommended by Urša (the photographer, ed.). Later, she confided in me that she had also worked with my father. Alenka focuses on elegant men's fashion, which is a departure from this more fluid fashion; and this suited me because I had never really been photographed in a men's suit, jacket, and tie. I wanted to try something new. I hadn’t seen the outfits before the day of the photoshoot when we met in her small studio in the morning. There were nine of them in total, and we only swapped out a piece or two in at most three of the looks.

This is more of an exception than a rule in fashion photoshoots. Does that mean you felt good in them?

Yes. In some more so, obviously, but in others, you have to trust the people you're working with. When I first look in the mirror, I always keep in mind that if something isn't optimal, it doesn't mean it won’t work well on camera. Even if the pants are too short or creased, it's still worth photographing them, because the photo can be edited later, whereas on stage, it's a different story, and everything has to already be perfect in the mirror. Working with Alenka was very simple; we clicked really well, and I will definitely work with her again.

How linked are your confidence and the way you feel on stage with your styling?

Very connected. As a musician, you want to enjoy yourself as much as possible on stage, and the people who come to listen to you and pay for the ticket deserve to see you at your best, which means you have to feel good in every aspect.

You recently attended Ljubljana Fashion Week. Which of the local fashion designers do you like to follow?

As far as the Slovenian fashion scene is concerned, I’m still quite the beginner, so I only knew the designers we had worked with. This was my first time visiting the Fashion Week.

Which shows did you watch?

On the first day, all of them. I didn’t like everything, but what stuck in my mind was Sarivalenci¹ with their somewhat "country club", Lana Del Rey vibe, and golf moment. I also really enjoyed the Belgrade Fashion Week, as there was an obvious Balkan touch, which I would love to see more of in Slovenia.

¹Sarivalenci is a Slovene high fashion brand created by fashion designer Sari Valenci.

You are a fan of vintage clothes and second-hand shops. What do these pieces have for you that new ones don't?

Honestly, I don’t know if there’s an objective explanation why. I started getting into it because it was popular, and at the same time, it gives you the feeling of getting a more unique piece. At the same time, you're shopping sustainably and not contributing to the production of unnecessary new textiles on Earth, which is great, but I would be lying if I said that’s my main motivation. What I like the most is the experience of "flipping" through clothes, where each piece is different, like a treasure hunt, compared to regular stores where you "flip" through the same clothes in different sizes.

Did your mum, who comes from the Netherlands where people have been aware of this for many years, introduce you to this concept?

I wouldn’t say we talked much about it at home, but I literally lived it. This is probably true for Slovenians in general – almost all the clothes I had as a child were from older peers, or I would take something from my dad, too. When I was done with wearing the clothes, my brother would wear them too. Every piece of clothing that came into our house was passed around, which is a great practice, and it’s still like that today. My sister "stole" half of my sweaters, my mum sometimes takes something too, Maks borrows jackets from my dad, which I’ve also done myself. It's like we all share one big closet! (laughs)

So you have influenced each other’s style in your family, or rather, you still do so? Who has otherwise had the most influence on your style in the past, and who does today?

I don’t remember ever looking at my parents as role models in this regard, as I didn’t really think about it back then, but they definitely influenced me, at least subconsciously. When I see how my mom dresses today, I see parallels with my own style, so she probably did influence me, perhaps more than my dad. As for street style, which I mentioned at the beginning, it might have been inherited from my uncle, my aunt’s husband from the Netherlands, who wore loose sweaters and listened to hip hop. My mum also had an uncle from the Indonesian side of the family, whom I never met, but he was very eccentric. Some of his clothes made their way to us over the years, and when I looked at these pieces in the closet, I was fascinated by how they reflected his personality. Asian fashion became a bit closer to me because of this, and I might even explore it someday.

The heart necklace you wear all the time, even today, is from your girlfriend. Do you ever dress your girlfriend or does she dress you?

My girlfriend is very fashion-oriented and has played a big role in my fashion development. She has always encouraged me when I tried new clothes that, at the time, seemed more radical to me. In this way, she partially shaped me. We also really enjoy shopping together. She dresses me more often than I dress her, which means I ask her for opinion. There have also been times when we’ve dressed the same when it comes to basic pieces; we’ve never really styled each other, but there will probably be time for that in the future.

Where do you like to go for vintage pieces in Ljubljana? Did you find any gems while on tour across Europe?

Textile House Vintage Shop is, in my opinion, by far the best in Ljubljana. The next one is Humana on Stritarjeva street, where I find something every now and then. Abroad, we’ve visited many vintage shops in Dublin, Paris, and London. In the latter, I always go to Brick Lane, which is a street with vintage shops in the east side of central London, where the more hipster area starts. The downside is that it quickly becomes quite an expensive experience.

What kind of information can you deduce about a person based on what they’re wearing? Who, in your opinion, is truly well-dressed?

A person’s style is never a reason not to engage in conversation with them, but it is a very strong stimulator of my interest in that person. If I think someone is really well-dressed, I automatically assume they might think similarly to me and be interested in the same artistic, musical, or visual directions, so I’m more eager to talk to them. However, I’ve often met people who didn’t seem interestingly dressed, and later realised they were amazing people, even if they dressed completely casually.

Your audience expresses itself very differently in terms of fashion, as your parents also mentioned in a recent interview for Elle. How do you as a band perceive this?

Yes, what they meant was that it is no longer the case that you have to be "appropriately" dressed for a rock concert. When we observe the audience from the stage, I would say that the most typical thing for our time is that we are no longer genre-bound. Not just musically, but also in terms of fashion. 30 or 40 years ago, you would see people at a rock concert in leather jackets, black shoes, and jeans, and that was it. Today, you have flamboyant outfits with blue and green hair in one corner, gothic style in another, and of course, people in simple t-shirts and pants somewhere in the middle. And no one feels like they don’t belong; everyone sings our songs, and that’s really nice.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

❗Please do not repost without credit, and if you quote, please link back to this post!

#joker out #jokeroutsubs #kris guštin #source: elle slovenia #Spotify #type: article #year: 2024 #jo: kris solo #og language: slovenian #jos: podcast

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simstorian-blog · 3 months ago

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Residential Floorplan Suggestions

New York City: TWO

(CC List + Links)

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Spice Market – Waterside Warble

Lot Size: 30 x 30

Capacity:

A Dive Bar

An Internet Café

A Pizzeria

A Tattoo Parlor

Bonus: 6 residential rental units floorplans completed – not assigned

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

Cats & Dogs

City Living

Discover University

For Rent

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Horse Ranch

Snowy Escape

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(Please read through what each mod has to offer before deciding if it fits your gameplay style or not.)

Carl’s Dine Out Reloaded

City Vibes Lot Traits

Functional Tattoo Parlor

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Lock/Unlock Doors for Any Lot

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Use Residential Rentals shared areas as Community Lots & Create Multi-Purpose Community Lots

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Felixandre

Chateau Pt. 1 (Stone Foundation)

Chateau Pt. 2 (Doors, Metal Pieces, Tiles, Walls)

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Grove Pt. 4 (Plaster Column, Plaster Floor)

London Interior (Dining Chair, Stool, Walls)

Paris (Cartouche Large, Corbel, Swag)

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Shop The Look 1 (Armchair, Coffee Table)

Shop The Look 2 (Ceramic Side Table)

Shop The Look 3 (Circular Cushion)

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SimspirationBuilds

Toffee Pt. 1 (Art)

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Catherine Sushi Restaurant (Wall Shelf 1 & 3)

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Macaron (Counter Display)

TaurusDesign

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Tuds

Cave (Panel Light 2 x 4)

IND 01

IND 03

Turn Couch

Wondymoon

Fraxinus AIO Computer (DL on Patreon)

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

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hongcherry · 11 months ago

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pretty please (be a perfect night) || c.sc

You and Seungcheol celebrate your one-month anniversary; however, a guest from the past makes an unexpected appearance.

💞 Pairing: boyfriend!Seungcheol x Reader (f)

💞 Rating/Genres/AUs: NC-17; Fluff, tad of angst; Established relationship, Pretty Please Couple

💞 Warnings: Name-calling not in bed (bitch), pet names (Cherry, baby, babe), referred to as girl, reader has she/her pronouns, some suggestive content, mentions of sleeping around and family troubles, reader wears cheol's clothes and has "fancy" nails

💞 Word Count: 3.7k

💞 Timeline: Between "(stay with me)" and "(rid your worries)"; Mostly can be read as a standalone but does have some vague references to past parts

💞 Author's Note: Based on this ask! Thank you for the idea. I love seeing people enjoy reading this couple ^-^ Apologies for the long wait! I wrote this a few days later, but then I kept editing and adding more stuff so it ended up being longer than planned fkjbgfdk starting off the new year with this couple feels right 💖

pretty please masterpost | seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

Seungcheol’s hand rests on your thigh, drawing random shapes on your exposed skin. Dim street lights pass by, and you get lost in the repetition.

You had never thought you were a person to celebrate the smaller couple anniversaries, but here you are.

It’s been one month since you and Seungcheol decided to be a couple. A month of affection and care you’re not used to, but it’s a nice change. You insisted you were fine doing something less extravagant for your one-month anniversary, however, Seungcheol refused. He made a dinner reservation at one of the fancier restaurants in town and didn’t give you a chance to decline.

Despite not wanting a formal celebration, you’re glad Seungcheol cares about what you two have so wholeheartedly.

When Seungcheol pulls into a parking spot, you finally turn to him.

He’s already looking at you with a handsome smile. His hair is styled to show the middle of his forehead while strands of his hair frame his face. You can’t believe you ever thought his looks were mediocre.

“You ready to go, Cherry?” he asks.

You nod, reaching for the door, but Seungcheol squeezes your thigh to stop you. You peer at him in confusion.

“You know better,” he says with a small frown.

“Babe,” you sigh, recalling how he likes to open the door for you. Sometimes he’ll let you do it without a fight, but tonight is not one of those times.

“This is a proper date. I want to get the door for you,” he explains.

Relenting, you drop your hand into your lap. “Okay.”

He smiles, then makes his way to your side of the vehicle. He opens the door and holds out a hand. You take it, carefully stepping out and double-checking you have your purse.

“You look incredible, baby,” he murmurs as he stares at you.

You tuck your head down with a smile wide in appreciation. “Thanks.”

He chuckles at your bashfulness. After shutting and locking the door, he leads you to the entrance.

As you near, you say, “You look really nice, too, Cheol. Is this a new suit?”

You pause in your trek to raise a hand to his chest, fingers grazing the material in wonder.

Seungcheol glances at his attire. It’s an all-black suit paired with a checkered-pattern tie. On the left lapel is a Chanel broach.

“No, but I rarely wear this,” he explains. “I had to wear the best for you.”

“Well, I’m honored,” you smile.

Seungcheol covers your hand that’s on his chest with his, giving it a squeeze while he leans in to kiss your head.

As expected, he holds the front doors open for you and takes care of checking you both in. He keeps one hand on you as you follow the waiter to your table. When you arrive, he pulls the chair out and helps you get situated.

You’re a little shy about being treated in such a way, but you know it makes Seungcheol happy.

“You know what I’ve noticed?” he asks while taking his own seat.

You pick up the menu and hum in response.

Seungcheol lowers your menu, so you’re looking at him.

“You get nice when you’re nervous,” he chuckles softly.

You roll your eyes and wiggle the menu from his hold.

“I’m not nervous,” you protest.

Seungcheol smiles. “It’s okay that you are. I’m a little nervous too.”

Your eyes meet his. He leans back in his chair and opens his own menu. His gaze is wandering over the courses with no sign of jitters in sight.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

Seungcheol looks at you. “You don’t believe me, Cherry?”

A shake of your head.

“I’ve taken the prettiest girl I know on a date; she’s dressed so beautifully that it’s hard not to stare. And she’s looking at me with these eyes that make my heart do weird things,” he speaks slowly and earnestly, sitting straighter.

“I want this night to go well, so yes, I’m nervous.”

“C-Cheol,” you say in a whisper.

He just smiles, showing off his dimples and making your heart rate spike.

Seungcheol doesn’t normally say these things unless he’s teasing you.

You want to tell him he makes you feel as though you’re his number one. As if he’ll run a thousand miles just to get to you. You want to say he’s treating you so well that you’re falling harder for him. He’s put so much thought and effort, not only in the planning but his appearance, that you don’t want to mess it up somehow.

The way he’s gone all out for this date is making you feel both cherished and guilty. Cherished because none of your other boyfriends ever took the relationship so seriously, and guilty because you don’t feel you deserve it.

“Order whatever you want, babe,” he finally breaks the silence. There’s a small smile on his lips as if he’s proud to have rendered you speechless. He’s not upset you haven’t said anything, nor did he expect you to. The look on your face tells him enough. He understands your affection comes in the form of actions. Granted, so does his most of the time, but tonight, he wants you to know how he really feels.

When the waiter comes back, you order your drinks and meals. You’re surprised to see Seungcheol ordering a lot of food, some you figure is for you since you didn’t order much—not because you didn’t like any of the options but because a lot of it is expensive.

“I have a gift for you,” Seungcheol announces once the waiter leaves.

You’re sipping your drink and nearly choke on it from shock. The guilt grows in your chest when you realize you didn’t buy him anything. You didn’t even think to get a gift.

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” you say.

“I know,” he replies and retrieves something from his suit pocket.

It’s a black rectangular box. He places it on your end of the table, staring at you expectedly.

You grab the box and open it carefully. Inside is a rhinestone necklace with several cherries dangling from it. For some, all the bling might be gaudy. To you, it’s stunning.

“Wow,” you say and graze your fingers over the accessory.

“Is it too much?” Seungcheol asks, worry in his voice.

You shake your head.

“It’s so pretty. Thank you, Cheol,” you smile and look at him.

“I know you already have one on, but do you wanna,” he trails off.

You touch the necklace you’re already wearing as if to confirm he’s right. “Oh,” you murmur.

When you dress, you ensure every part of your fit matches perfectly. From the shoes to the layers to the accessories, you’re particular with how you style. So, when Seungcheol asks if you want to exchange jewelry, your first reaction is to be hesitant.

The necklace is beautiful, but you’re nervous about switching it when you haven’t tried everything together.

Seungcheol’s shoulders sag ever so slightly at your silence.

“No worries,” he forces a smile. “Forget I asked.”

He averts his gaze to glance around the restaurant.

You frown upon seeing his sad expression. He’s doing a good job hiding his disappointment, but you’re watching him so attentively that you can see it.

“Baby,” you call out softly.

“Hm?” he hums, glancing at you briefly.

You reach a hand across the table to cover his. “Will you help me put it on?”

Seungcheol gives a small smile, lips pressed together. “You don’t—”

“I can’t put it on because of my nails,” you explain. “So, will you help me?”

Seungcheol eyes you for a moment. He gets a feeling you don’t really want to wear it.

With a silent sigh, you remove your hand from his and reach behind your neck to unlatch your necklace. You struggle to unclasp the hook, fingers slipping from the clasp too quickly for you to slide the connecting end away.

Seungcheol stands, makes his way behind you, then replaces your hands with his.

He’s silent as he takes off the jewelry and sets it on the table gently. He grabs the cherry necklace, wrapping it around your neck carefully and securing the ends. The cold metal makes you shiver for a second. You didn’t realize it would fit more like a choker, but it’s nice to have variety in your wardrobe.

Seungcheol’s fingers linger on your skin before he sits back down.

“How does it look?” you wonder with a smile.

“Beautiful. You look beautiful,” he says without a doubt.

You glance in your lap and then look at him again. “I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol tilts his head. “What for?”

“For hesitating.”

He smiles, the same closed-mouth one, but it looks more genuine now.

“I shouldn’t have put you on the spot. Do you want me to take it off?”

“No,” you answer quickly. “I want to keep it on.”

He nods. “I think it suits you well, Cherry.”

“I think so too,” you reply.

Although you haven’t seen yourself fully with it on, it should be fine paired with your simple yet elegant dress.

Soon the tension dissipates, and you both fall into a casual conversation.

The waiter comes back and informs you that it’s taking longer than usual for your meals. Seungcheol doesn’t look pleased momentarily, but he puts on a friendly appearance soon after.

As an apology, the waiter comes back with a complimentary bottle of champagne.

“This just means I get to spend more time with you dressed up,” you say as Seungcheol pours you both a glass.

He peeks at you and sighs. “That’s a good way of putting it.”

“This doesn’t ruin anything,” you reassure, knowing he’s upset that there’s a hiccup in what he hoped would be a perfect date.

Seungcheol nods and hands you your filled glass.

“To being happy,” he says, raising his glass.

You grin at his small toast. It’s nice to know you make him as happy as he makes you.

“To being happy,” you repeat, then clink glasses.

You watch Seungcheol over the rim of your glass as you take a sip, smiling as you make eye contact.

“Good?” he asks.

You nod and place the drink down.

“I’ll be right back. I need to use the restroom,” you inform and slide your chair back.

“Okay,” he says.

Seungcheol watches as you leave, eyes a little more focused than necessary to make sure you get to the restrooms safely. It’s only when you round the corner that he tears his gaze away.

He pulls his phone out and starts scrolling through social media to bypass the time.

“Seungcheol?” a hesitant voice calls in front of him a minute later.

He snaps his gaze up, something about the voice ringing familiarity.

A woman dressed in a long dress stands across the table. Her hair is neatly pulled from her face and a small handbag is in one of her hands. She looks different from the last time he’s seen her.

“Hajun?” Seungcheol asks, shocked.

She grins widely.

“It is you,” she breathes out a sigh of relief. “Not that you look much different, but I thought I was seeing things.”

He hums, an uneasy feeling in his chest.

The last time he spoke to her was at your senior fashion show. Numerous calls and texts from her went ignored; especially, when he found out what she had said to you outside that bathroom on campus. Even now, he can’t stop thinking about her words. The very untrue, and vile words.

“Can I sit real quick? I feel bad with how things ended between us.”

Seungcheol glances behind her. He doesn’t see you and hopes you take your time. He’s sure she’s the last person you want to see.

“Yeah,” he replies.

She nods and takes a seat.

“Look, I’m sorry for how I acted in college. I know it hasn’t been long, but a lot can change in a month.”

“Like?” he ponders.

“For starters, remember that company I really wanted to work for? I got hired there!” she beams. “There are some really nice people helping me improve my skills.”

“That sounds great, Hajun,” Seungcheol congratulates.

“It is,” she smiles. “So, are you doing a business deal or something? I saw you work for Attacca now.”

“I do, but that’s not why I’m here tonight,” he replies.

“Oh,” she says, a little surprised. “Then, why are you dressed up so nicely? You used to only dress like this when we had presentations or something of the sort.”

Her gaze flickers across his body, taking in his nice suit.

“I’m on a date,” he answers plainly, not having any desire to disclose with whom.

Her eyes widen. “Really? Me too!”

This time, it’s Seungcheol’s turn to look shocked.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she laughs. “I’m not totally undesirable.”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “It’s not that, I just…”

Hajun smiles. “I’m just messing with you. Like old times, remember?”

Seungcheol hums. Although Hajun was never nice to you, she always treated him kindly. Sure, she was a gossiper, but nothing came out of it. Not until you came along. Perhaps he just never saw her with the people the gossip was about.

“So, if you’re on a date, does this mean you got over Yn?” she wonders. He gets the impression that she always assumed his liking toward you was temporary. As if Hajun was just waiting for his “phrase” to pass.

Seungcheol’s hands close in fists beneath the table. The conversation was bearable until now. Now, he dreads to hear what Hajun has to say. He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened months ago.

“You’re still thinking of her?” he asks, trying to divert the question.

She shrugs. “Not really, but seeing you reminded me how infatuated you were. I mean, you did ditch me for her.”

She laughs, but it feels forced as if she’s trying to hide how upset she is.

Seungcheol purses his lips. “You know why I ditched you, Hajun.”

“I told you I was just looking out for you, Cheollie,” she exasperates. “All I ever wanted was for you not to get hurt. And can you blame me for worrying? She was known to sleep around and be noncommittal. All her exes said—”

“They were exes for a reason. It seems they were all insecure and needed to start rumors to heal their egos.”

Seungcheol can feel his body heat as the anger begins to rise. It always did when she spoke about you, but now it’s intensified.

“Maybe the reason was because she wasn’t all she made herself out to be,” Hajun argues.

It suddenly feels like he’s in college again, surrounded by the study room walls with his so-called friends. At least he always had Vernon to lean on for reason.

“I think people put labels on her and just went with it,” Seungcheol says.

Hajun scoffs. “Oh, come on, Cheollie. She always acted like she was above everyone else. Perfect grades, perfect family… Yeah, right. I heard her father is a dead-beat and her sister is a—”

“You don’t know shit, Hajun,” he snaps finally. “You never did.”

She frowns, seemingly offended at his words. “You can’t seriously still like her,” she says, flabbergasted.

“Why not?” he challenges.

“You’re better than her!” she huffs. “You’re caring, you’re loyal, you’re smart. She’s none of that. You can reach levels of success she never can. She’s not that talented, and she’s probably not even good in bed.”

“She’s amazing, actually.” He smirks.

Hajun chokes, eyes wide in horror. “W-What?”

Seungcheol leans on the table. He narrows his eyes at her, more serious than ever.

“You haven’t changed, Hajun. You’re still jealous of her and all your shit-talking shows it. Had I never tolerated all your badmouthing, I would’ve been much happier the last few months.”

Hajun blinks; her mouth is slightly ajar as she processes what he said.

“So, you are on a date with her,” Hajun says in realization. There’s disgust evident in her voice that fuels Seungcheol’s irritation. He’s been so engrossed by her that he hasn’t seen you standing behind Hajun. He jumps as if his hand is caught in the cookie jar.

“Why, of course,” you laugh mockingly sweetly. “You still think he’ll give you the time of day?”

Seungcheol’s heart races at seeing you. You don’t look as pissed as he thought you would be, but that doesn’t mean you’re not hiding it.

He’s prepared to tell you Hajun’s just leaving, but he’s interrupted before he can get a syllable out.

“You’re still the bitch you were in college,” Hajun growls, a glare in her eyes.

You smile. “Takes one to know one.”

Hajun’s eyes narrow.

“I see your fashion has improved,” you observe. “Did you learn something from me?”

Hajun reaches for the glass of champagne on the table, fully prepared to drench you with it, but Seungcheol grabs her arm swiftly. Some of it swishes over the lip and spills on the table.

“It’s time for you to go, Hajun. I’m sure your date is wondering where you are,” Seungcheol speaks firmly.

Hajun turns to face him and slowly relaxes in his grip. “You don’t see what she’s doing to you?”

Her voice is softer now; she sounds sad.

“She’s making me happier,” he replies, hand still wrapped around her wrist in case she changes her mind.

“She’s making you a dick,” Hajun corrects. “You’re not the Seungcheol I knew a few months ago.”

“No, Hajun. I’ve just gotten better at standing up for people I care about,” Seungcheol replies. He almost sounds a little defeated by her lack of sense.

Hajun’s stare lingers on his. He watches her search his eyes for what he’s guessing is his past self, but she doesn’t understand he never left. It’s just clearer to him to see who’s worth fighting for.

“Enjoy your night, Hajun,” Seungcheol dismisses.

Hajun inhales deeply before releasing a breath. She eases her grip on the glass and stands from the seat. She gives you one last snarl with her back turned to Seungcheol, then walks to the other end of the restaurant.

As she’s walking away, you shuffle to Seungcheol’s side and call her name.

She turns, already annoyed with whatever you’re about to say.

You give her a small smile before you tilt Seungcheol’s face toward yours and kiss him. Seungcheol nips at your lip at your childish behavior but doesn’t resist.

When you pull away, you see she’s rolling her eyes and giving you the finger.

You’re tempted to reciprocate the gesture, but she turns around before you can lift a hand.

“That was immature,” Seungcheol murmurs, although he doesn’t sound upset.

“So is she,” you argue.

Seungcheol rubs his lips together, not disagreeing with your comment.

“So, what did you hear?” he asks as you sit down.

“That you think I’m amazing in bed,” you grin, crossing your legs and leaning back in your seat.

Seungcheol seems embarrassed for a few seconds, but then he’s smirking and grazing one of your legs with his under the table.

“I’m sure you’ll be amazing in my car too,” he replies.

Your mouth drops slightly. “Seungcheol!”

He cocks an eyebrow up briefly—a habit of his that you’ve started to find more attractive than annoying.

“We can get a to-go,” he offers.

You shake your head and nudge at his leg with yours. “You wanted to eat here, so we’re eating here. Behave yourself.”

Seungcheol’s eyes flicker down at your body, sighing.

“But you make it so hard,” he groans lowly.

You know he’s talking about not being able to behave, but you get the hint he’s also referring to something else.

You resist the urge to glance down, knowing you won’t be able to see what you’re looking for anyway.

“I’m sure I do,” you smile mischievously.

The corner of his lips dips down.

Thankfully, your food arrives before he can reply, and the conversation transitions into something more appropriate.

With the night winding down and a belly filled with delicious food, you begin to get sleepy. Seungcheol pays for the meal and then helps you get into the car. His hand holds yours, and he can’t stop the grin on his face when he feels your grip ease as you fall asleep.

You look so sweet that he doesn’t wake you when he arrives at his apartment. He’s careful to pick you up and carry you to his front door, then to his bedroom.

“Babe,” he finally speaks.

“Hm?” you mumble in his arms.

“We’re at my place, you wanna change for bed?” he asks softly.

Your eyes peel open, glancing around to confirm your whereabouts.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s no problem, baby,” he says and eases you onto the bed.

“Your clothes or mine?” he asks, opening his closet to get you something more comfortable.

“Yours,” you answer tiredly.

Seungcheol’s not surprised by your answer, yet his heart still skips a beat. He likes that you enjoy his clothes even if they’re not the most stylish. Granted, some are well-known brands, but they’re still just plain.

He hands you a spare shirt and shorts and then changes into his own nightwear. When he looks at you, you’re already tucked under his covers, shorts forgotten at the foot of the bed.

“That sleepy huh?” he chuckles and puts away the unwanted shorts.

“Very,” you sigh.

Seungcheol climbs into bed after turning off the light, immediately getting hugged by you. He wiggles a bit to get comfortable.

“You have a good night, Cherry?” he asks.

You nod, eyes peering up to his. “The best.”

“I’m glad,” he murmurs. “Thank you for letting me take you out to dinner.”

You smile. Despite wanting to keep things small, you’re glad he took you out in the end. It was nice going on a proper date since it’s been a while. Not by choice, but aligning schedules hasn’t been as easy nowadays. You’ve both been busy with your new jobs.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you answer teasingly.

Seungcheol chuckles. “Not really.”

It’s quiet for a moment until Seungcheol begins to speak.

“I lo—”

“Happy one-month anniversary, Cheol,” you say nearly at the same time; however, you don’t inquire on what he was going to say afterward.

Seungcheol pauses as he contemplates continuing his sentence. He decides against it.

“Happy one month, baby,” he echos instead, leaning down to kiss you sweetly—a faint smile on his lips.

A/N: If anyone is curious, this is how I imagined the necklace/choker to look like.

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

taglist: @musingsofananxiouspotato, @christinewithluv, @lockburn-castle, @iammisstora, @maknae00, @morklee02, @kittyhui, @cheolcherries, @oncloudvii23*, @mystikha*, @lithelust, @doom-fics, @ellllsia (im debating on only tagging those who specified for the pretty please couple just bc some parts may not make sense if you haven't read the series, but lmk if you have a preference!)

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#kvanity #kdiarynet #scousp fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #scoups fluff #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol fanfic #scoups x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #svt scoups

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sturniholo · 7 months ago

Text

early rise cafe - matt sturniolo

in which matt’s summer job turns into something more

┊ ✫ ┊ ┊ ☾⋆ ┊ ⊹ ┊ ✯ ⋆ ┊

The smell of coffee and pancakes filled your nose as you swiped your rag across the counter. A customer had just left, leaving a few bills behind for your tip. You picked them up with a smile, carefully tucking them into your apron. Although you had only started your shift an hour ago, you knew today was going to be busy.

Early Rise Cafe was the place to be on a hot, summer morning. It was one of the few restaurants left in town that was family-owned and served food made with love. You would always work there in the summer. Your mom knew the family who owned the cafe, so when you were old enough to work, you were guaranteed a job there.

You couldn't complain. It was quite a nice place to work. The staff was warm and welcoming, which is exactly what you needed early in the morning. The look of the place quickly became a favorite of yours. They hadn't changed the aesthetic of the decor since the place opened, but you dug the retro vibe. It was also evident in your uniform; a white blouse and skirt with a red and white checkered apron.

As you turned to put your rag in the sink, the bell on the front door chimed. You steered your attention to the customer, putting on your friendliest smile. It was a young man, close to your age. As he got closer, you could see tattoos littering his arms, which were on display in his white tee and jeans.

"Good morning. Could I interest you in a cup of coffee?" You held up the pot with a smile, waiting for his response.

He took a seat on the stool in front of you, resting his arms on the counter. "Yeah, that would be great, thanks." He watched as you grabbed a mug and set it down in front of him. You poured the coffee in, the heat creating a small cloud of steam in front of you.

As it reached the top, you set the pot down. "I'll be right back with a menu for you." You turned around, making your way towards the kitchen.

The boy grabbed a packet of sugar and ripped it open. He watched as the sugar fell into his coffee, disintegrating within a second. He stirred it with a coffee stirrer. He wasn't sure why he had done that. He didn't even like coffee that much. But for some reason, he couldn't say no when you had smiled at him.

You pushed open the kitchen door, menu in hand. You set it down in front of him with a smile. "I would recommend hotcakes; they seem to be a favorite. No rush of course. Take your time." You walked to the other side of the counter, giving him time to look over the menu.

He watched as you walked away, not an ounce of his attention on the menu. You were very attractive to him. The way your hair bounced as you walked and how pretty your smile was had him distracted.

You came back after a minute. "Ready to order?" You pulled out your notepad and pencil, getting ready to write down his order.

He blinked at you. "I think I'll get the hotcakes. I trust your judgment," he joked.

You smiled as you scribbled on your notepad. "I'll have that right out for you."

To pass the time, he thought he would try the coffee. He picked up the mug, bringing it to his mouth. He knew it was still hot, so he blew on it before taking a sip. As soon as the bitter liquid hit his mouth, his face scrunched up in disgust.

"You don't have to drink it, ya know?" He set the mug down, looking over at you. You had been watching him from the cash register. "Do you even like coffee?" He shook his head, making you chuckle. "So why did you get it?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I couldn't say no to you for some reason."

"Don't you know how to butter a girl up," you joked. You made your way back into the kitchen.

After a minute, you came out with a plate of hot cakes. You set them down in front of him. "Is there anything else I can get ya?"

He looked up at you, finally allowing himself to make eye contact with you. "A job application." You raised your eyebrows at his request. Based on your reaction, he regretted his decision to speak. "Shit, was that stupid?"

You shook your head with a laugh. "No, you're all good. Just unexpected is all." You watched as he bit into his pancake, smiling to himself. "Let me go check if we have any." You turned and made your way to your boss's office.

You saw him sitting at his desk, typing something on his computer. His grandparents started the restaurant and it got passed down to him over the years. You lightly knocked on the door, making your presence known to him. "Rich, can I ask you something?"

He looked up from his computer, giving you his full attention. "Shoot."

"Do we have any job applications?"

He furrowed his brows at you. "Why? Who's asking?"

You let out a nervous chuckle. "There's a guy out there who's interested in working here and he asked for an application."

"You know we don't just hire anyone," he said with a sigh.

You internally cursed yourself. Of course, he wouldn't just hand out applications. He tended to keep business between family and friends of the family, but maybe he could make an exception.

"I know, I know. But please, Rich. He seems like a nice guy. You know I wouldn't even think to ask if I thought he wouldn't be a good fit." You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, trying your hardest to persuade him.

After what felt like an eternity of him staring at you, he let out a deep sigh. His hands flipped through the papers on his desk, trying to find a certain piece. He eventually handed you a piece of paper. You looked over it with a smile. It was a job application. "Thanks, Rich. I promise you won't regret this." You clutched the paper to your chest as you made your way back to the counter.

When you got back, his plate was empty and he was looking around the room. "Here ya go." You handed him the paper, which he gladly accepted. "Just fill it out and hand it back to me." You pulled out a pen from your apron and passed it over to him.

After a few minutes, which you spent cleaning up his dishes and wiping the counter, he was done with the application. You read it over, smiling as you read his name. "This looks great, Matt. I have no doubts he wouldn't hire you."

He raised a brow at your words. "How did you know my name?"

You let out a laugh. "It's the first thing you had to write."

A deep red spread across his face, making you chuckle to yourself. "Oh, yeah." Based on his tone, you could tell he was embarrassed. "So, how do you like working here?"

"It's a great job." You leaned across the counter, resting your arms on the cool surface. "Everyone is super friendly here. And the pay is good too." He nodded his head at you. "Well, I'm going to take this back to Rich." He gave you a nod before you turned to walk away.

After you handed in his application, you made your way back out to Matt. "From what I can tell, he's impressed by you."

"Really?"

"Mhm. He should get back to you in a few days." He nodded at you. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. "Unless you want me to," you suggested.

His face slightly lit up. "What do you mean?"

You wiped your hands on your apron before sliding your phone out of the pocket. You pulled up your contacts and went to make a new phone. "Here, put your number in for me." You passed him the phone. He smiled as he took it in his hands, typing away happily. "I'll probably be able to give you his answer faster than he can. And who knows, maybe your number will be useful in the future."

He smiled as he passed the phone back. "Yeah, for sure." He glanced over at the clock on the wall. He got up from the stool, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. "Well, I better get going," he said as he handed you his card. You took it from him and went to the cash register. He watched as you swiped his card, smiling as you did. He pulled out a 20 from his wallet and set it on the counter.

"Well, I guess I'll see you later, Matt." You smiled as you handed him his card.

"See ya later." He smiled before turning to leave, the bell chiming as he opened the door.

┊ ✫ ┊ ┊ ☾⋆ ┊ ⊹ ┊ ✯ ⋆ ┊

a/n: sorry for posting this later than expected 😭 and yes there will be multiple parts for this !!

tags: @jnkvivi @pjmpcyy @raysmayhem-72 @mattscurlygirly @patscorner @chrattstromboli @junnniiieee07 @imwetforyourmom

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo

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munsonsmixtapes · 7 months ago

Text

Teach Me

Steve x bi!fem!reader

Word count: 10k

Summary: Steve teaches you about dating and in return, you teach him how to really please a woman in the bedroom.

CW: reader has a rough home life, mention of abuse, Eddie and reader are friends with benefits

part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight

Part One: The Agreement

Steve had always considered himself a romantic. Seeing his parents together really made him believe in love. The way they would hold hands in the car or at the table when they went out to eat. He loved romance movies and the warm and fuzzy feeling they gave him, hoping that he would find his own love.

He had thought he had it with Nancy, but that obviously didn’t work out. He could still remember their exact conversation before they ended things. She had called him “bullshit” then moved on to Jonathan pretty quickly after that. He didn’t know why he had been thinking about it so many years later. He was over her. At least, that was what he was telling himself.

He knew that the woman for him was out there even if he had to look hard. If he was honest, he had wanted to start something with you. He had been infatuated with you since Eddie had introduced you to the group all those months ago, but he didn’t think he was your type.

“Earth to Steve,” Robin waved her hand in front of his face as they stood in front of the diner that had finally replaced Benny’s.

“Sorry, what?” He turned to her, giving her his full attention again.

“I was asking what you were going to get this time.” The two of them had been plenty of times since the place had opened and were trying to eat everything on the menu. “Thinking about y/n, hm?”

The pair stepped inside and Steve was mesmerized by the bright colors and decor just like always. The whole place had the theme of a classic fifties diner and the floor was a black and white checkered pattern that was so clean that he swore he could see his reflection in it. There were red stools at the bar that seemed to be popular among customers and plenty of empty vinyl booths that were the same color. Waiters and waitresses whizzed by him on roller skates, all either holding trays of food or notepads to scribble down orders.

“No, I was-“

He cut himself off when he noticed you by the jukebox, sitting on the counter and doodling in the notepad you were supposed to be using for orders. He couldn’t help but stare like he did any time he saw you. You had been the only reason why Steve had even agreed to come. He’d go anywhere you were. He had a crush on you ever since you had been introduced to the group and everyone knew because of how obvious he was about it. Everyone but you, of course.

“Uh huh, sure. C’mon,” Robin pulled Steve over to the table where the hostess was leading them to but his eyes were still glued to you.

He was so engrossed in looking for something from the menu that he’d want to order that he didn’t even see you stroll up to the table. Robin had called his name multiple times and when that didn’t work, she kicked his shin under the table.

“Ow, what the hell,” he snapped his head to the girl across from him who nodded her head towards you. Your pretty eyes locked on him and his mouth went dry.

“Hi,” you chuckled at his reaction and he didn’t even care that you were laughing at him, he just liked hearing the sound. “I’m y/n and I’ll be your server today.” You didn’t like the idea of introducing yourself to people you already knew, but you couldn’t risk your manager writing you up again.

“What can I get you started with to drink,” you asked in the tone of voice you used with customers and Steve thought it was weird to see you so bubbly. In the many times they had eaten there, this had only been the second time they had been seated in your section.

“We’re ready to order if that’s okay,” he replied.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Of course.”

Steve wasn’t your type. He was the kind of guy you’d bring home to your mother and you were more into guys you had to sneak through your window because your parents didn’t approve of them. But that still didn’t stop you from flirting with him or giving him nicknames that you were sure would make him blush.

“I’ll uh-“ he cut himself off. “I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger.”

“That’s a great choice,” you nodded as he handed you his menu. “And for you,” you turned to Robin

“I’ll have the same. And a chocolate shake,” she gave the boy a knowing look, a joke just between the two of them.

“I’ll have that right out for you.” You turned to head to kitchen and Steve didn’t miss that you weren’t wearing skates like the other servers. He watched you until you disappeared behind the door then turned back to Robin who was writing in a small notebook. He grabbed it from her and wished he hadn’t when he saw what was on the page. There was a line down the middle with the words “you rule” on the left and “you suck” on the right. He pushed it back towards her, his mood turning sour.

“You made a portable version?” He hated that stupid game, especially because it was at his expense. He knew he wasn’t doing too hot as far as dating went, he didn’t need to see the proof on paper.

“I sure did.” Robin pulled the notebook back and Steve watched what was she was doing, knowing what column she was adding to but wanted to see for himself.

“Are you putting a tally under the ‘you suck’ column,” he asked in offense. That had to be a new record of how quick she was to do it.

“Yep,” she nodded as she closed the book and put it back in her purse. “I’m saving time. Even though I already gave you one when you first flirted with her.”

“I haven’t even asked her out yet so how do you know that I suck?” He couldn’t believe it. Was that really what it was coming to? Had King Steve finally lost his crown?

“Did you see the way she laughed at you? Sorry, but you can’t come back from that. She totally went back there to tell all the people in the kitchen and they’re all for sure laughing at you right now.”

“You’re mean,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And you’re a dingus. You know, now that I think about it, I actually think you might be able to turn it around. With my help at least. You’re kinda hopeless at this point.” He wanted to correct her, but he knew she was right.

“Gee, thanks, Rob,” he rolled his eyes. “Y/n would never laugh at me.”

“Maybe not to your face. Look, I can hype you up.” Steve knew she could, but was afraid that she would somehow end up revealing something embarrassing about him. She tended to babble so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, especially considering that she had already told you that most of Steve’s friend group was a bunch of teenagers out of context. How could she tell you the real reason when they were all bonded together by trauma from getting sucked into an alternate dimension multiple times? Who was going to believe that?

“I don’t think that’s going to work. Like you said, I’m hopeless.” Robin couldn’t believe that he was already giving up. He was the kind to at least try before he threw in the towel.

“Look, just leave it to me to save your ass once again.”

You exited the kitchen with a tray that carried the pair’s order and headed their way. Steve knew that it wasn’t exactly impressive for a server to be able to carry a tray with one hand, but damn was he mesmerized by the way you did it. The way you were able to dodge everyone in your way without spilling a single drop of Robin’s shake.

You headed their way with a bright smile and Steve was going to tell himself that it was for him specifically and totally not because it was your job to be nice to them.

You set the tray down on the table and Steve couldn’t help but focus on your close proximity. Your uniform was unzipped just enough to where he could see your cleavage and because he was a gentleman, he was trying his best to keep his eyes on your face.

“Here are your burgers,” you set the plates in front of them and grabbed Robin’s shake then set it next to her plate. “And your shake. Can I get you anything else?”

“Actually,” Robin turned her attention to you. “Can we get some ketchup?” You stepped over to the empty table beside them and grabbed the bottle before setting it in the middle of their plates.

“Will that be all?” You actually didn’t mind that Robin kept asking for things. It kept you busy in the lull before the dinner rush.

“I would also like a straw.” Steve knew what Robin was doing and he hated her for it. Could she be anymore obvious?

“Here you go,” you reached into the pocket on your apron and pulled out a straw before handing it to her. As you were doing so, you felt a hand squeeze your shoulder. You turned to your left to see a ringed hand that was attached to the familiar metal head. He was looking at you with a sweet smile and Steve didn’t miss the undeniable connection between the two of you.

Maybe it was because you hadn’t found someone who wasn’t a complete asshole, but you were beginning to think love was a scam. Because who in their right mind would willingly get into a relationship completely unaware if it would last or not? To you, the only way to avoid any type of heartbreak was to be single. You could definitely have your fun, but as soon as feelings were involved, you’d shut down the whole operation and move on to the next person.

That was why your whole thing with Eddie worked. It was a relationship without all the “feelings” bullshit. You could hangout with him outside of the bedroom and would actually enjoy yourself. You’d watch a movie together and he wouldn’t expect you to cuddle with him. Or he’d come over to hookup and bring some weed free of charge just because and not expect anything in return. You had an unexplainable bond and after all the shit you went through, you definitely deserved to have him in your life.

“Hey, l/n,” he greeted with his signature smile. “Miss me?” His hand squeezed your shoulder before letting go. He stood beside you and Steve didn’t miss the way you looked at each other. That wasn’t the way friends looked at each other, was it?

“Hey, Eds,” you smiled back. “Your table’s all ready if you wanna take a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“You take your time, sweetheart. I don’t mind waiting,” he winked before heading over to his usual table and Steve couldn’t have been more grateful for him leaving. He was jealous of what you had with Eddie even if you weren’t actually dating.

“Is there anything else I can get you guys?” You asked making sure they didn’t need another thing before you headed over to take care of Eddie.

“I think that’s it,” Robin nodded, taking a sip from her milkshake. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you nodded back. “If you need anything else, let me know,” you smiled brightly then headed over to Eddie’s table.

He was looking over the menu even though you both knew exactly what he wanted; a plain cheeseburger and a Coke. He set the menu back on the table and looked up at you with him pretty brown eyes. He gave you his signature smile and you knew exactly why people were interested in him. He always knew exactly what to say to get into people’s pants and you admired him for that. After all, everything you knew about sex was because of him.

You scribbled down Eddie’s order then headed to the kitchen to drop off the slip. You stood at the window and watched Steve from afar, hoping that he wasn’t looking at you. He was definitely the prettiest guy you had ever seen, but you’d never admit that to anyone.

You weren’t usually attracted to guys like Steve so you didn’t know what made him different. Maybe because he was nice to you unlike the other guys in town who weren’t into your style or your personality. You were too aggressive in their eyes. You had too much sexual experience. They all wanted someone sweet and innocent, two things you definitely weren’t. You didn’t care, though. You didn’t care what anyone thought about you. That wasn’t any of your business.

Once Eddie’s order was ready, you grabbed it and headed to his table, setting it down in front of him and didn’t miss how he looked at your cleavage so quickly that you might have not seen it if you hadn’t been looking directly at him. You didn’t mind, though. At least you were getting attention.

“Thanks, doll,” Eddie smiled and you beamed at the nickname. Out of all the ones he had given you, that one was definitely your favorite.

“Anything else?”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “So what’s going on with you and Harrington?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “Why, you jealous, Munson?” Eddie scoffed at that. What you two had was strictly casual. He couldn’t have been attracted to you romantically if he tried.

“Not even close. I’m just looking out for you.”

“You don’t need to. I can take care of myself.” Eddie knew that, but he still felt the need to protect you. He wanted to make sure that you were taken care of since you didn’t seem to have anyone looking out for you.

“You should totally go out with him.” You let out a laugh at that. Eddie had been trying to set you up with Steve for months to no avail. You could see right through it and weren’t going to fall for his bullshit.

“I’m not looking for anything, remember?” That was partially true. As much as you didn’t like the idea of being tied down, you had to admit that going to bed to the same person every night sounded really nice.

“But Steve’s cool. Well, sometimes.“

“Why do I need a boyfriend when I have you?”

“Because I can’t be your only friend, l/n. You need friends that you don’t have sex with.” You knew he was right, but you liked the idea of hanging out with just Eddie. He was the only person that truly understood you. And bringing more people into your life just made it easier for them to leave. And you weren’t going to get hurt, not this time.

“Fine, whatever.” You turned on your heel to head for the bathroom, Eddie’s words ringing in the back of your head. Maybe he was right for once. You did need more friends. You always saw Steve and Robin laughing about things together and you wanted to be part of their jokes. You just wanted to be part of something for once. You were tired of being alone.

You exited the stall and washed your hands before heading back to check on your tables. On the way out of the little hallway, you ran into a hard chest. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Steve. You’d recognize that terrible shirt and the ugly color combo of stripes that adorned it anywhere.

You looked up at him and his lips parted like he was going to say something, but he stayed silent. He just closed his mouth, his eyes widening as he did so. You could tell that you made him nervous and that was funny to you. There was nothing for him to be nervous about when it came to you. You had heard all about King Steve and his reputation with women so you were honestly surprised that you had intimidated him. You actually kind of liked it if you were being honest.

“Just couldn’t get enough of me, huh,” you joked.

“No!” His eyes got even wider and you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at how flustered he was. “I was just-“ he pointed to the men’s bathroom door.

“Relax, pretty boy,” you teased with a pat to his cheek. “I’m only joking.” You turned on your heel then headed back to the kitchen, not able to see Steve watching you walk away. After you were out of his sight, he entered the restroom.

You went back to check on your tables and approached Robin, who was finishing up her milkshake. You had thought about what Eddie had said about you needing new friends and decided to do something that was out of character.

“Do you have plans next Saturday?” You felt nervous asking that despite how long you had known Robin, but you had never hung out with her outside of the group, at least not like that. But you liked the idea of having a friend that was girl. You had never had one of those before.

“Except work, no. Why?” You didn’t want to answer her. There was something so vulnerable about asking someone to hang out and you hated being vulnerable. “Do you want to have a sleepover?” Her eyebrows furrowed at your question and you immediately wanted to take it back. It was unlike you to want to hang out with anyone outside of the group.

“A sleepover?” Robin could tell by your tone that it wasn’t going to be that kind of sleepover, so she agreed. She knew that you were bisexual, but you weren’t each other’s type. She liked girls who were more feminine and you were into girls who looked like you.

She also thought it would be a good idea to have a friend that was a girl. She needed more feminine energy in her life.

“Sure,” she nodded. “Sounds like fun.” You pulled your notepad out of your pocket and were actually kind of excited for the whole thing.

“What are we talking about,” Steve asked as he sat back in his side of the booth.

“I’m sleeping over at y/n’s on Saturday,” Robin told him and she could see his face falter.

“I thought we were going to finally watch that new horror movie on Saturday.” Robin had completely forgotten about that and now you felt bad that you were stealing her away from Steve.

“I totally forgot about that.” Steve looked over at you and even though you were trying really hard to hide it, he could see that you were disappointed and he didn’t want to be the reason for it.

“(Y/n), you like horror movies, right,” Robin asked, watching Steve out of the corner of her eye to see what his reaction would be to her next question.

“Love ‘em,” you answered and Steve couldn’t believe what Robin was doing. He thought he at least had some more time to prepare before she started her moves in setting the two of you up. And she wasn’t even being subtle about it. Robin was about as subtle as gun.

“You should watch the movie with us.” The old you would have come up with any excuse to say no, but this was the new you. And the new you made friends. And maybe if it went well, you could make it a regular thing.

“I’d love to.” This was going to be the year you finally did things that scared you. And that included getting close to people who weren’t Eddie.

“We’ll watch it at Steve’s since he’s got that giant TV.” Of course she was suggesting his house. Girls were always amazed about where he lived and Robin knew that. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Sounds good to me.” Steve couldn’t believe you had actually agreed. You had always denied their invitations to hang out with you and he’d be stupid to ask why you had changed your so suddenly. Whatever the reason, he was going to be grateful.

Eddie had watched the entire interaction play out and couldn’t help but be proud of you. He knew that you had been wanting to get close to Robin and Steve but had been too scared to make a move.

You brought Eddie his check and didn’t miss the smirk he had on his face. And this time he was looking at your face and not your breasts so clearly he had been up to something.

“Ugh,” you groaned. “What?”

“I saw you over there. You did so good, doll. I’m so proud. It’s my baby’s first non-sexual hangout,” he teased, grabbing your face and planting a messy-albeit gentle-kiss to it. You pushed him away in disgust.

“Ew. I hate when you get like this,” you rubbed your cheek with your hand, trying to get rid of the spit. Eddie just grinned at you.

“You didn’t hate it last night.” He winked and you felt yourself blush.

“Because that was in your bed, not in public. And you were more rough with it. You know I hate soft touches.” Eddie knew that fact all too well, all too familiar with hearing the words “harder” and “faster” coming from you in the bedroom.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart.“

“Whats going on? You’re being weird, even for you.” You gave him a glare but that only made him smile wider.

“I’m not weird, I’m just a proud daddy.” Hearing that word outside of dirty talk made your skin crawl.

“Gross,” you grimaced. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” he corrected.

“Sure, whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “Now pay your bill and get out.” Eddie always ended up lingering after he had already paid, wanting to spend more time there. It definitely beat staying in the trailer by himself while Wayne was at work. But you had to kick him out because your manager hated loitering.

“I love it when you’re bossy.” He left some cash on the table, making sure to give you a hefty tip and stood from the table.

Steve watched your interaction with Eddie and wanted to know if you were dating or not, but couldn’t get himself to ask. He didn’t want that information out in the open, unbeknownst to him that everyone was very well aware of his little crush on you. He wasn’t very good at hiding his jealousy and Eddie had even kicked his touches up a notch to get Steve to say something about how he felt about you, but he never did.

Robin and Steve finished their meals and you dropped off their check. You watched them walk out the door and turned to the table to some cash sitting under Robin’s empty cup so it wouldn’t blow away under the fans that had been running because of how hot it had been outside.

You headed over to their table and noticed that Steve had left a twenty dollar bill which meant that more than half had been for you. You wondered what it was like to be able to tip more than your meal had cost and not be struggling financially. You didn’t know what that was like because your family didn’t have the kind of money to even eat where you worked.

You headed outside for your smoke break as Steve’s red BMW pulled out of his parking space. You watched him pass by as you pulled your carton of cigarettes out of your apron pocket. The taste of the tobacco sounded so inviting and you just needed it to help with the chronic stress that sat on your shoulders every single day.

You went through your cluttered apron pockets to find your lighter only to grasp at crumpled receipts and empty straw wrappers. You had always put it in your apron before your shifts for that exact situation so you had wondered where it went. You tried to picture the last place you had it and suddenly remembered that you had left it at Eddie’s when you had smoked a joint together the night before.

As if he knew you were thinking about him, Eddie exited the diner, holding out a lighter to you. You took it from him and lit up, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke away from him so it wouldn’t get all in his face. You looked down the lighter and noticed your initials that you had engraved into the intricate design to signify it was yours.

“Thanks.” You fiddled with the thing in your hands, never able to stand still for so long. Whether it was the anxiety or the stress, you didn’t know. “Sure,” he nodded. “That one’s yours anyway. You left it at my place last night and I figured I should give it back.” Eddie grabbed the cigarette from you, putting it between his own lips before taking a drag and handing it back to you.

“Well, thanks.” You wondered just how many lighters you had lost over the last few years after sleeping with someone only to never return to their place ever again. The only thing you had missed was your leather jacket that you had left at Billy Hargrove’s. You had politely asked for it back, but he only agreed to return it if you slept with him again and there was no way in hell that was going to happen. After he had made fun of Eddie? Fat chance. He could have the jacket for all you cared.

“Sure. I’ll see you tonight?” You didn’t know why he was asking. Of course you were going to see him. You were in his bedroom practically every night.

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking another drag before holding out the cigarette to him. He took it from you, his fingers brushing yours as he did so. This was so familiar to you, standing outside your place of work sharing a cigarette with your best friend. It seemed like it happened at least once every single one of your shifts. Most of the time neither of you uttered a single word, the only thing that could be heard was birds chirping or the sound of car doors slamming as people headed towards the restaurant. It was nice, one of your favorite things about working.

Eddie handed your cigarette back and fished around in his pocket for his keys. He pulled out his own cigarette carton, a couple guitar picks, and a few wadded up gum wrappers before finding what he was looking for. You wondered when he last washed his jeans, then remembered that you were the last one to do so when you took your stuff to the laundromat which had been a couple of weeks ago. You made a mental note to go back sometime in the week and take Eddie’s gross pants with you.

“See you tonight. Four, right?” That was always your plan when you were picking up extra shifts. Eddie would watch Callie while you were gone and then you’d go over to his after your shift while Wayne was still at work and you’d spend the night together, getting tangled up in Eddie’s sheets with a few smoke breaks in between. It was a perfect night in your opinion. You were able to get away from home for the night and you could forget about your shitty living situation at least for a little while. Until you began to worry about leaving your little sister alone with your parents.

Eddie was always able to help you when you started to panic. He’d take your hands in his and make you take some deep breaths to help you calm down. He’d then take you over to your own trailer to see Callie to make sure she was okay. She was always in your shared room, fast asleep in the bed that you were forced to share because your parents couldn’t afford another one.

Your parents were always fighting and it made Callie cry hearing them, so you’d do whatever what you could to distract her. Whether it was letting her listen to your walkman to block out the screams or just straight up taking her to Eddie’s, you’d find a way to shield her. No kid should have to be subjected to that or be on the receiving end of it like you had been a few times. That was why you always deemed any room that wasn’t yours off limits during those moments.

You wanted better for Callie. She was just a kid and didn’t deserve to live like that. You hated that she was growing up with the very same childhood you had experienced. You had hoped that your parents would have gotten their shit together before having another kid, but Callie had just been a product of them having makeup sex in the back of their shared beat up car.

Callie was way too young to be subjected to your parents’ toxic behavior. You, however had been used to it. Them hitting or yelling at you was something you just expected whenever you were home at the same time as them. They still hadn’t laid a finger on Callie out of anger and you vowed that if they ever had, you’d pack up all your stuff and go live with Eddie and Wayne. Wayne knew all about your living situation and had suggested you come live with him as soon as he found out about how your parents had been treating you and your sister, but you were just trying to hold out until you could get enough money to get the two of you the hell out of there.

———

You and Callie entered the trailer after you had picked her up from school and you let out a sigh of relief when you saw that your parents’ car wasn’t in its usual spot. You didn’t have it in you to deal with them. You were just so tired. You were scheduled for a shift at Family Video in an hour which only gave you enough time to make sure that Callie did her homework. Eddie would take care of the rest.

You showered and got dressed while Callie did her homework. That was the only way you were able to do anything for yourself. You had to do it while she was occupied, never truly getting an actual moment to yourself. She’d come into the bathroom while you were in the shower and ask you where you had put her favorite pencil. You hated that you got annoyed with her every now and then, but sometimes you wished you could have just five minutes of uninterrupted silence.

You came out of your room to find Callie eating the TV dinner you had fixed for her and Eddie was sitting next to her. They were both talking about the cartoon she had put on. It was one of the things they bonded over. Eddie really was just a kid at heart so it made sense why they got along so well. He didn’t have any siblings so Callie was the closest he was going to get. She had him wrapped around her little finger and she quickly found that he’d do anything she asked. Whether it was letting her braid his hair or have a tea party with him, it didn’t matter.

You loved watching their interactions. The way Eddie was so sweet to her, but talking to her in the tone that he used with everyone else. You wished that the people in town could see the way Eddie treated her so they’d stop insisting that he was an evil cult leader.

He had insisted on watching your sister even though you had assured him that you didn’t need his help. He noticed that you were always doing that; insisting that you didn’t need assistance when you were actually desperate for it. To you, asking for help meant that you were weak. You had gotten through your hardest times by yourself, so why would you admit that you needed help with the little things like finding a sitter for your sister?

“Alright,” you spoke up, standing at the back of the couch. “I’m leaving for work, so Eddie’s in charge.” Callie turned to face you, a pout on her face. As much as she loved spending time with Eddie, she always missed you when you were gone. You were her best friend. The one person who she was convinced could protect her from everything. Your parents screaming at each other, a bad dream, and the monsters that very much not under your bed. You both knew that they didn’t exist. She was just always looking for an excuse to cuddle closer to you, feeling the safest being wrapped in your arms.

Callie didn’t care if you didn’t give birth to her. In her eyes, you were her mother. You had gotten up in the night to feed her or change her diaper and you rocked her back to sleep when she stopped crying. You were there when she took her first steps, holding onto fingers until she was able to move by herself. You held her while she cried when kids were mean to her at school, telling her that they were losers and were just bored with their lives. You helped her ride your old bike without training wheels, cheering her on as she circled the little spot in front of your trailer. You had been there for every important moment in her life while she had just been an afterthought to your parents. Just another reason why they didn’t have any money and were stuck in that stupid trailer.

She gave you a long hug and you pressed a kiss to her forehead and told her to behave before you went out the front door to your car. You took a deep breath and turned on the ignition before heading out of the trailer park.

Working at Family Video was definitely your favorite out of your three jobs. The diner involved a lot of running around and working at the car repair shop was just answering phones and scheduling appointments since you didn’t have any actual experience fixing up cars. That one was very monotonous and boring doing the exact same thing every time. You liked Family Video because it was the perfect amount of work and you got along with the people you worked with. In your eyes, it was a win-win.

You put in the cassette tape that was a mix of your favorite metal songs you had made and turned the volume dial all the way up, singing along to the song. In your mind, if you had the music on really loud, it could drown out all of your thoughts so you had no choice but to get out of your head. Your brain was always working overtime with all of things you had to do. There was always another thing to add to your to do list or something else to worry about, so you tried your best to turn it off when you could.

You pulled into the parking lot and parked a little bit away from the building since Keith had gotten onto you multiple times for parking right up front. Despite not wanting to walk the few extra steps, you were too tired to argue with him. You grabbed your vest and headed into the building, finding Steve already at the counter, typing something into the computer. He turned to you when he heard the bell chime and gave you a small smile before turning back to his task.

You headed to the back room and clocked in before putting on the dreaded green vest. You wished Keith could have at least gotten vests that were a neutral color so it’d be easier to match to your outfits. Nothing went with green. You threw your purse into your locker and let out a sigh before going out onto the floor. The place was empty which was arguably worse than it being packed. If it was crowded, at least you would have something to do other than put videos away.

Steve was no longer at the counter, now putting returns back on the shelves. You rounded the counter and noticed his cart right by the romcom section. You pulled some tapes from the cart and began putting them away in their designated aisle, deciding that you were going to help him even though he always insisted that he didn’t need it. He knew of your other jobs and wanted this one to be a breeze for you. He thought you worked too hard.

Steve could hear shuffling and turned to his cart to see that some of the tapes were missing. He then looked over the aisles and saw you in the sci-fi section. You were reorganizing the tapes in alphabetical order. He noticed you doing that every time you had a shift together and wondered why it mattered to you so much when people were just going to mess it up again.

He watched you for a few more seconds then turned back to his own task. He spent too much time looking at you and really needed to cut it out. But you were just so pretty. He wanted to look at you any chance he got. He wanted to hold you from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder as he pressed kisses your cheek just to hear your pretty laugh. He wanted to hold your hand whenever he could, feeling your soft skin against his. He wanted to kiss you. Goddamn did he want to kiss you. He wanted to know what your pretty lips tasted like. They were like two little pillows and he needed to know if they were as soft as they looked. He knew he was pathetic pining for you like that, but he didn’t care.

You were so mysterious and he wanted to know more about you. What you liked and what you didn’t. He wanted to know every single thing about you, hearing you go on and on for hours. He knew he wouldn’t get bored because everything about you was fascinating in his eyes. You could read out the diner menu to him and he would listen, hanging onto every word. He was in deep and he didn’t even care. He didn’t care if you didn’t if you didn’t feel the same way, he’d still eat up every interaction, every flirty word that would fall from your pretty lips.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you spoke up as you approached his cart once again. It was the only thing separating you two and he thought you were too far away. You grabbed onto the top of the cart and leaned forward, getting a little too close to him for his liking. He tried to keep his cool, but you smelled so good. If he had it his way, he’d have pulled you to him and buried his face into his neck to get a better whiff.

“Not much to say,” he shrugged and turned back to the shelf to hide the blush that was creeping up on his cheeks.

“You never shut up when you’re with Robin, but you’re quiet as a mouse when you’re around me.” He wanted to tell you that it was because you intimidated him and that he was afraid that he was going to say something stupid. He wanted to, but he didn’t. He just kept quiet and tried to not think about how beautiful you were.

“Just don’t have a lot to say,” he shrugged, putting some more tapes on the shelf in front of him. That was a lie. Steve had so much to say to you, but he didn’t think that any of it was appropriate.

He wanted to tell you just how pretty he thought you were while he thrusted into you. He wanted to feel your soft body against his. He wanted to hear you moan his name over and over again while he made sweet love to you.

He was always going on dates and sleeping with women, but it never really progressed after that. He’d promise to call them then throw their numbers away only to feel guilty in the end. He hated the cycle, but he was only doing what he thought he had to.

He was only trying to get over you and he thought the only way to do that was to get under someone else. But that never worked. You were the only girl he wanted and he couldn’t have you because you were taken. It was torture watching you with Eddie. The way you touched each other in such a flirty manner, whispering things into the other’s ear.

Steve wanted to be that with you. He wanted you two to have your own inside jokes. He wanted to have his arm around your waist and press tender kisses to your temple whenever he wanted. But he couldn’t. And it was killing him. He didn’t want to ruin your friendship, if you could’ve even called it that.

“Oh,” you nodded in understanding, even though he couldn’t see you. “I get it.” You pulled away from the cart, crossing your arms over your chest. “You don’t like me.”

You loved to mess with Steve more than you liked flirting with him. He fell for it every time, completely believing your words. You thought it was hilarious considering the fact that you hadn’t even been trying.

“No!” He turned around in panic, needing to assure you that it wasn’t true. He liked you, probably loved you even. “I like you.”

“You do?” You bat your eyelashes innocently and Steve stepped closer, trying not to fall for your tricks.

“Yeah. I mean, we’re friends, right?” The word was hard to get out. He hated using it when it came to you. It burned his throat the way bile did when it climbed its way up into his mouth. It tasted horrible and bitter like burnt toast.

The word caught you off guard. Eddie was the only one you had given that title to. And here Steve was using the word so casually, like it was part of his everyday vocabulary.

“Of course we’re friends, Steve.” Technically speaking, you were friends, but the two of you didn’t really hangout outside of the group like you did with Eddie.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hang out with Steve, it was that you couldn’t. You were unsure of where things would go with the two of you. Anytime you were alone, you felt the tension and you were afraid of the things the two of you would get up to. Hanging out always led to sex and sex always led to the “what are we?” talk and you couldn’t do that again. It was always so awkward letting people down.

“Good,” he nodded. “Good.” He rolled the cart to another aisle and you followed him. You watched him put more tapes away, admiring the way his jeans hugged his hips and the way his shirt was tight against his biceps. You could see why women liked him even if you weren’t interested. He was pretty and got along with everyone. What was there to not like?

“Yeah,” you nodded. “So what did you get up to last night?” You leaned onto the cart as Steve crouched to put some videos away on the lowest shelf.

“Oh, you know. The usual,” he shrugged, trying to move quickly because being in that position was painful.

“Which is?” You leaned closer, trying to read the look on his face. He stood up quickly, his legs not being able to take the pain anymore.

“Had a girl over.” He didn’t want to say more than that. He figured that you knew what had happened without him having to spell it out for you.

“Oh?” He didn’t have to say anything else, but you wondered how much he would tell you.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“How was it?” Bad. It was bad. So much so that he couldn’t even think about it without feeling embarrassed.

“Fine.” He was lying. He couldn’t tell you the truth. The truth being that he had tried to make out with the girl only to see your face and your pretty eyes boring into his. It happened every time and it was infuriating.

“Fine?” That was never the word you wanted to hear about a date. That was always meant that it went wrong but the person didn’t want to come out and say it.

“We just didn’t have that spark, you know?” You didn’t know what he meant by that so you wanted him to explain.

“Spark?” Your eyebrows furrowed and Steve liked that he was going to be able to explain something to you and not the other way around for once.

“You know, the spark.” You had no idea what he was talking about, but knew that it was some sort of thing that was only exclusive to Steve. He was too much of a romantic sometimes.

“No.” You didn’t seem to care but Steve was still going to tell you anyway.

“It’s when you get that feeling. You just know they’re the one.” His brown eyes softened as he looked at you and all you could do was let out a laugh. It all just seemed so silly.

“How do you know?” This was the real question. How did you know when you were in love with someone?

“It’s in your gut. It’s something that you just know.” Steve had never gotten that feeling, but knew it existed and he was just waiting for it to come around.

“Huh,” you pondered. “Sounds fake.” Love was just a bunch of bullshit to you. At least romantically. You loved Callie and you loved Eddie, but that was about it.

“You’re just too cynical to ever love anyone but yourself.” Both of you knew he wasn’t trying to offend you. He was just telling the truth.

“I love Callie,” you countered and Steve only shook his head. That didn’t count in his opinion.

“You’re supposed to love your sister.” You supposed that was true, but still felt like you were right.

“I also love Eddie.” He didn’t like hearing that, but he knew what you meant.

“It’s the same thing. He’s your best friend. You’re supposed to love him. I’m talking about romance.” You hated talking about that, even with Steve. Especially with Steve. Out of the four of you, Steve definitely seemed to be the one who always wanted to talk about love and it made you uncomfortable.

“Gross,” you grimace and Steve thought it was cute seeing your features scrunched up like that.

“It’s not gross, it’s beautiful,” he corrected, giving your shoulder a nudge. You just stepped away to keep space between your bodies.

“How can you think that when you’ve never been in love?” Steve had been in love. Only once and not for very long, but it still counted.

“I was in love with Nancy.” Right, Nancy. You don’t know her as well as you knew Robin, but just from the few interactions you had with her, she seemed nice enough.

“I mean besides Nancy. That was years ago and I haven’t heard you utter another girl’s name since I’ve known you.” He could think of multiple girls off of the top of his head that he had talked about. Well, with Robin. He felt weird talking about his dates with you.

“You’ve only known me for like six months.” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the shelf behind him. Steve didn’t think you had known him long enough to critique him.

“Yeah, and that’s been six months of jack shit, Harrington. If you want love so badly then you have to go on more than one date with a girl.” He never thought that you of all people would have given him actually good relationship advice. For someone who had never been in one, you really seemed to know what you were talking about.

“Maybe I will,” he shrugged. You both knew that he wouldn’t. He was just going to continue the cycle until he found someone.

“The girl for you is out there, Steve. You just have to look hard enough.” He was looking and the only woman that he wanted was right in front of him. He felt pathetic. He would never get you so he didn’t know why he even bothered.

“Like where? Because she’s definitely not in Hawkins. I think I’ve been out with every woman who’s interested in men in our age group.” He hadn’t been out with you, though. And he never would because you definitely weren’t interested. He thought it was better if you were just friends anyway. He liked what you two had and didn’t want to ruin it.

“Well,” you let out a sigh. “I guess you’re just destined to be alone.”

Steve wondered what made you so against love at such a young age. Usually the people who were that cynical were at least fifty years older than you. He figured it had something to do with your home life that you only mentioned a few times. You were very secretive.

Steve wasn’t going to listen to you. Love was out there and he was going to find it even if it wasn’t with you. Just because he hadn’t found someone yet didn’t mean that he was going to throw in the towel. He was going to at least give it another try before he fully gave up.

“No,” he pointed at you. “I am not stooping to your sad, cynical level.” He moved from the shelf and rounded the corner with a stack of videos and you followed him, the cart completely abandoned.

“Oh, c’mon, Steve.”

“I think maybe if you put yourself out there, you’d actually find that dating is fun,” he smiled and you gagged at his words. Pretty much anything sounded more appealing to you than that.

“You know what’s even more fun than dating,” you asked, your face lighting up and Steve was interested in what you had to say.

“What?”

“Hearing my parents yelling at each other while I hold my sister who’s sobbing. That’s more fun than dating.” He supposed he walked right into that one. He had never seen you talk nicely about anything except your sister and Eddie, but he was determined to find out what else you liked. He knew there had to be some sort of happiness deep down inside you.

“C’mon, y/n, you’re a pretty girl. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” That was a nice compliment, but it sounded generic, like it was something he’d say to just anyone. There was nothing that made it personal.

“Right, and I would be lucky just to get through this shift without you trying to convince me to put myself out there.” You took some of Steve’s tapes and put them away, wanting the conversation to be over. He only followed you, leaning against the shelf you were working on. He stared down at you, his eyebrows pinched together.

“Can you be serious for one second?”

“I am being serious, Steve,” you turned to face him. “You’re the one who’s being ridiculous.”

“I’m just trying to help you.”

“You call that help?” You let out a laugh. You didn’t think him pointing out your flaws was considered helpful. “If you really want to help me, then why don’t you actually help me?” You leaned onto the shelf as well, setting your arm onto the top of it to hold yourself up.

“How?” His eyebrows furrowed and you thought for a moment. The first thing that came to mind was actually ridiculous.

“I don’t know, go on a date with me or something.” Steve’s eyes widened at that, his mouth falling open slightly. He never thought he’d see the day. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe Hell had frozen over.

“What,” he scoffed. He didn’t believe you in the slightest. You had to be joking because there was no way you’d ever want to go on a date, especially not with him.

“It’ll be like practice.” Steve was quick to step forward and press his hand to your forehead. Your eyebrows furrowed at his actions, trying to figure out what he was up to.

“What are you doing,” you let out a laugh, pushing his hand away, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were sick,” he let out a sigh of relief as he pulled his hand away. “Because that would be the only reason why you’d ever go out with me.”

“Oh stop. You’re the only one who would actually be helpful.” He hated that you were right. He was the only one who’d be up for the task and do it right. “You’re King Steve, aren’t you? You clearly know what you’re doing since you always have a date.”

“Why not Eddie or Robin?” It wasn’t that Steve didn’t want to help you, but he didn’t think he could because then he’d want more and he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“Eddie would just laugh the whole time and Robin would overthink everything.” Steve knew both of them well enough to know that what you had said was accurate. Eddie was too close to you to take going on a date with you seriously and Robin would take everything too seriously to the point that it would drive you crazy. Steve was your only option.

Steve supposed it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d get to go on a date with you and hadn’t that been what he had wanted all along? Who cared if it wasn’t real? At that point, Steve was just going to take what he could get.

It didn’t have to mean anything. It was just to help you out so you knew what a date was like without the nerves of being around a stranger. He’d just give you pointers. Tell you how to win people over enough to get their number and how to get to a second date after the first.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Let’s go out.” Your eyes widened at his agreement. You figured that he would have said no because it was weird or because he had better things to do.

“Oh-I was joking.” He thought it was odd to hear you stutter. You had always said things so matter-of-factly with your head held high. He could tell how nervous you were then.

“I wasn’t. So let’s go out.”

“Steve.”

“Yes?” A smirk played on his pink lips and now you could see why he always got whatever he wanted. Just one flash of that damn smile and women would give him whatever he asked. Well, it wasn’t going to work on you. You were better than them.

“Why are you agreeing?” He was doing a favor, getting absolutely nothing out of it, so what was his deal?

“Why are you asking?” He wanted to know why you were grilling him when the whole thing was your idea. Joke or not, Steve didn’t think that it was half bad. Maybe it could actually work.

“Because it’s a weird request.” Steve had done weirder things like fighting with multiple monsters from alternate dimensions, so going on a fake date with you would have been one of the less weird things he had done.

“It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve done. And I want to help you, y/n.” He would do anything for you, but he wasn’t going to tell you that. You weren’t quite at that point in your friendship.

“Well, great,” you smiled. “When did you want to start?”

Steve thought for a second even though he knew for a fact that his schedule was wide open. It always was. If he wasn’t at work or on a date or with Robin, he was at home by himself watching movies he’d seen a thousand times or laying in his bed staring at the ceiling, feeling sorry for himself even though he knew there were people out there with worse problems.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You’re the one with the busy schedule so you tell me when you’re free.” It was nice that he was being so accommodating.

“Literally never. See, this is why I don’t date.” He could see you panicking and wanted to do whatever he could to help you calm you down.

“How about this weekend,” he suggested and realized that it was already Thursday.

“Isn’t that a bit early?” Maybe it was but he didn’t care.

“Not necessarily,” he shrugged again. He didn’t think it was. He was just eager to get started. He was really looking forward to going out with you.

“What are we going to do?” That was a good question and he figured he’d let you decide.

“What do you want to do?” He saw that nervous look and he was concerned that you were going to panic again.

“I don’t know.” Your life was full of making choices. Deciding what to buy at the grocery store. What to make for dinner. What you were going to wear every day. For once you didn’t want the decision to be up to you.

“Well, what do you like to do in your free time?” Steve just wanted to make the decision easier for you. In his head, it didn’t seem like a big deal, but he didn’t know what your life was like besides that you had a sister and that your parents fought.

“I don’t know. I don’t really have free time.” Of course you didn’t. He had heard you talk about your two other jobs and practically raising your littler sister. That was a lot for anyone to have on their plates, especially for someone as young as you.

“Right,” he nodded. He hated that you didn’t even have enough free time to even figure out what you enjoyed. It broke his heart.

“You pick. I promise I’ll like whatever you choose.” That seemed like a huge promise to Steve. He didn’t think you liked anything.

“Are you sure?” He titled his head to the side and you almost thought it was cute. Almost.

“Yes, please. Just pick.” Steve actually liked the idea of choosing for once. It seemed like he was told what to do all the time so having his own decision to make made him feel good.

“We can just hang at my house then. It’s private and it’s somewhere you can leave if you feel uncomfortable.” That sounded like a good idea to you. You didn’t like the idea of having Steve pay for your dinner. You could pay for yourself just fine.

“That works for me,” you nodded.

“I can make you dinner and we can just talk. It’ll be low stakes.” Oh god, now he really was going to spend money on you. Maybe you could let it slide just this once.

“You don’t have to do this,” you handed Steve another video to put on the shelf.

Of course Steve didn’t have to, but he wanted to. He just wanted to help you out. He didn’t care if he got anything in return. He would just be content spending time with you.

“I know I don’t,” he nodded, taking the tape from you. “But I want to.”

“What should I wear?” He didn’t like where his mind went with that question. He could imagine you in a pretty dress that would be thrown onto the floor of his bedroom while you placed yourself on top of him.

“Whatever you want. You could wear sweats for all I care.”

That made you feel better since you didn’t really have any nice clothes. The only “nice” outfits you owned were the two dresses that your mother had bought you. One was for funerals and the other for weddings and you didn’t think that either of those were appropriate. Maybe you’d ask Robin if you could borrow something.

“So I could wear my pajamas,” you joked and clearly Steve didn’t get it.

“Sure,” he nodded “Whatever you want. I could wear mine too if that would make you feel better.”

“We’re not wearing pajamas, Stevie,” you shook your head with a laugh.

“I know,” he laughed as well. “You’re overthinking it.” That much was true. You were overthinking everything these days and Steve could tell. “Seriously, wear whatever you want.”

“Okay.”

The topic was dropped and the two of you made awkward small talk the rest of the night in between customers. Despite not having not talked about your “date” for hours, it was the only thing on your mind. It had made you nervous and you wanted to just tell Steve to forget it, but you couldn’t. He just seemed so insistent on helping you and you weren’t going to take that opportunity away from him.

You had never thought of Steve as intimidating, but now you couldn’t help but feel nervous around him. You were going to see a side to him that you had never seen before and that scared you. What if it had made your friendship weird? What if the date sucked and he never wanted to speak to you again?

You went to Eddie’s after work and told him everything. Of course, he thought it was the funniest thing and couldn’t stop laughing. The idea of you and Steve going out tickled him. You didn’t even have anything in common. You liked all things scary while Steve jumped when a customer came into Family Video unannounced.

However, opposites did attract and Eddie knew just how much Steve liked you even though you couldn’t see it because you had been too focused on your own life. He thought Steve would be good for you. That he would balance you out.

“You gonna wear something hot?” Eddie asked, leaning back on his bed, putting his arms behind his head.

“I don’t have anything hot, Eddie,” you laid down next to him. “And this is just a practice date. It doesn’t mean anything.” Maybe it didn’t mean anything to you, but Eddie knew it meant the world to Steve even if the boy wouldn’t admit it.

“Right. You know, I’m kinda offended you didn’t ask me.” He turned over to face you, propping his head up with one of his hands.

“We both know why I didn’t ask you,” you raised an eyebrow. “We’re too close and you’d just laugh the whole time.” Eddie let out a laugh at that. You were absolutely right.

“Cmon, let me wine and dine you, baby,” he reached for your hand and you pulled it away.

“Fat chance, Munson,” you cackled. “We’re just not compatible.” Eddie knew that much, but when you were fucking, it was as if your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces.

“Maybe not romantically. But physically, we’re so made for each other.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Honey, I’m always right.” He grabbed your hands and pulled you on top of him. He flipped the two of you over, pressing his body to yours, sliding his legs between yours.

“Now give me some sugar.”

“Oh, you actually want to kiss me first? Is it a special occasion?” You teased.

“No, just need to taste your lips.” You pressed your lips to his roughly, tangling your hands into his hair. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting it swirl around yours before pulling away.

“No,” you whined. “I need you. Need your cock.”

“Sweetheart, you worked twelve hours today. I know you don’t have it in you.” Eddie was more than eager to fuck you, but he could see how tired you were and wasn’t going to through with it if you weren’t conscious enough to be enthusiastic about it.

“Fine,” you grumbled. “But you owe me.”

“I’ll give you two rounds tomorrow with no smoke breaks,” he pressed another kiss to your lips then pulled you into his arms.

“Deal,” you smiled, closing your eyes, feeling yourself drift off to sleep. Eddie pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting out a chuckle.

“What?” You pulled back to glare at him only making him laugh more.

“Still can’t believe you’re going out with Harrington,” he shook his head.

“Eddie, please just shut the fuck up and go to sleep,” you demanded and he was quick to close his eyes.

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, resting his chin on top of your head. “Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight, Eds.” You snuggled into his chest and the two of you drifted off to sleep.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut

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chickenparm · 1 year ago

Text

Nothing New Under the Sun (Wriothesley/gn!Reader)

AO3 Link

Wriothesley/gn!Reader 2,229 Words - SFW Awkward dates, pining, fluff

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When you first suggested it, you’d already gone in with the assumption that the answer was going to be a solid no. That he’s too busy right now, that there’s some crisis he has to handle, that the upcoming mandated day off required him to have a presence in the Fortress to prevent any trouble.

But then he’d looked at you from behind the rim of his teacup, the smallest crease at the corner of his eye to betray his little smile, and he agreed.

Honestly, you hadn’t thought you’d even get this far. Stammering over your words, you deliver a time later that afternoon and nearly sprint from his office to the elevators that will take you to the surface once more. You hadn’t gotten anything ready; he normally says no. God, maybe that’s why he said yes, he had to have known you didn’t expect it.

Hotel Debord does takeout, don’t they? If you hurry, you can get there, order a few things to take with, and stop off at home… yeah, this should work. It will work.

The aquabus doesn’t run any faster or slower than it always does, but it feels like an eternity as your knee bounces and you tune out the sound of Elphane’s usual script about the surrounding area and points of interest. You’d lived here long enough and taken this aquabus so many times that if Elphane ever needed a day off, surely you’d be able to fill in.

Never mind the reason you’ve used the Navia Line so many times.

Does he like sweet things? You ask yourself as you search Debord’s menu. He has to, at least a little, right? He takes his tea with two sugars. Okay, Pate de Fruit, then. Maybe some Garlic Baguette. Would Lasagna be too unwieldy to eat? Probably - Tomates Narbonnaises it is, then.

Ah, shit, the drinks.

You can handle that at home, you have a few thermoses. Impatiently, you wait for the food, accepting the box with profuse thanks for their efforts in stashing pyro slime condensate inside to keep it all warm. The bag of Pate de Fruit sits neatly on top and you watch it carefully as you hustle home. A blanket or two should do it - oh, and the tea.

It’s embarrassing how scattered this has made your mind. A simple, “Sure, sounds great,” and you’re in shambles like a child dealing with their crush. Well, you kind of are dealing with your crush, but it’s not like he knows that. Though, knowing Wriothesley, he probably does and has just been messing with you.

Though, that comes with a whole host of thoughts about his motivations. As you fold the blankets to tuck into your backpack, you try to reason with yourself, murmuring beneath your breath that Wriothesley isn’t cruel. Far from it, actually, and if he did know about your feelings, it would be extremely out of character for him to mock you or string you along.

No, he either doesn’t know, or there’s something else afoot.

A quick glance at the clock soothes you - you have more than enough time to get to the location you specified. Then it’s a matter of scoping out a good place and making sure there aren’t any unwanted parties nearby. Hilichurls would have a field day with your goods, probably.

Just North of the Fountain of Lucine, there’s a hilltop angled just right to get a view of Coppelius and Coppelia spinning idly at the Icewind Suit, with a backdrop of the Court beyond it. Wildflowers dot the hill on the way up, and their scent fills your nose as you make the short hike and ensure everything is clear. Nothing to worry about except how you’re going to make conversation with this guy.

Your cheeks warm as you lay out the blanket - checkered, to be cliché. Another thing you weren’t prepared for. Usually you have time to think of arbitrary reasons to talk to Wriothesley when you head down to the Fortress once a week. But this is all purely casual; are you supposed to just talk about the weather?

God, you feel like a mess. Carefully, you set the box of lunch on the blanket, sweeping your hands against one another in little claps as you look at the little setup. Not too bad on this front, you think-

“You look exhausted. Run a few too many last-minute errands?”

The hill nearly takes your life as you almost tumble down it, catching yourself with waving arms before you turn and irritation overtakes your nerves, “Don’t sneak up on someone like that!”

“I wasn’t sneaking, I even called your name from the bottom of the hill. Not my fault you were daydreaming.” Wriothesley doesn’t hide the little half-cocked smile on his face as he tilts his head, making a show of looking at the spread behind you. “Either way, those errands paid off, huh? Looks great. Next time’s my treat.”

Next time, next time, next time-

“Uh… yeah, sure. I got a few things, I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

“I’m not picky.” Wriothesley answers simply, stepping closer to take your elbow with his hand - it’s warm - and steer the two of you to the picnic you’ve so carefully laid out. “Checkered blanket? Cute.”

Not a single response comes to mind. You could address his light teasing, or his eating habits, or the way his fingers still wrap gently around your arm as if to help you sit down. They don’t pull away until you’re comfortable, and then he takes the space across from you, leaning back on his hands as his legs stretch out in front of him. The bottom of his boots are off the blanket, an attempt to keep from dirtying it.

God, you wanna kiss him.

Shaking your head to get back on track, you try to address any of those topics and instead you weakly ask, “So uh… weather’s nice, huh?”

And his head falls back while he laughs. Not meanly, or cruel, but this odd surprised sort of sound, like he hadn’t expected that at all. Neither did you, to be honest. There’s no attempt made to try and backpedal as you watch enraptured at the shake of his shoulders and that little flash of teeth from his laughter.

Lifting his head it looks at you, eyebrows raised just enough to make him look deeply interested despite his grin, “Yeah, the weather’s great. Lots of sun.”

You want to slap your palm to your forehead, but you instead tense your shoulders and set to work unpacking the box containing your lunch. A bit of steam wafts out thanks to the slime condensate, and as you reach in for the containers, you hiss a little at the sudden sharp temperature.

Thankfully, he doesn’t chide you for being careless, but he does quietly sit straight and all but takes over the distribution of food for you. You’re normally not so clumsy but you’re also normally not in the presence of the man you can’t get your mind to let go of. Wriothesley’s arm reaches out to offer you one of the takeaway bowls, and your eyes follow the lines of his veins, the shift of muscles beneath his skin.

If he notices how your hands shake when you accept the bowl, he graciously says nothing, and instead just reaches for the thermos of tea. Singular.

“Ah, shoot. I forgot the other one on the counter at home.” You murmur, watching as he stops in the middle of unscrewing the cap.

His eyes dart from the tea to you, then he shrugs. “We’ll just share, then. Here.”

Your bowl of food is warm on your lap as you reach for the thermos, taking it and quietly thanking him before taking a drink. Thoughtlessly, you pass it back without further scrutiny of the situation, only to be blindsided when he accepts it and turns it so that he can drink from the same spot on the rim that you did.

And when he swallows, his tongue darts out a little, and your fingers are dangerously close to cracking your bowl with your grip. He has to know. He has to know. Because there’s no way a person would ever cause this much mental damage without it being deliberate.

Your mouth opens and closes, trying and failing to say anything at all. Wriothesley looks at you, face downturned a little toward his food, waiting patiently to give you some time. When it drags a little too long, he’s graciously merciful, “You know, it’s pretty nice out here. Good view, and it’s quiet - one thing I don’t get much of in the Fortress. I’m sure the Palais Mermonia is just as busy for you, yeah?”

Mutely you nod, and just before taking a bite of the food, he says, “We can just enjoy it, then. Don’t feel like you have to fill the silence for my sake. Plenty to be said about spending time with someone in peace.”

Relief floods through you. It’s like he can read your mind, and you enjoy the ambient sounds around you as he smiles knowingly and takes another sip of tea from the same spot. Then, offers it to you.

Surely this is a test, and you look at it unsurely for a moment before he wiggles the thermos a little as if to say, “C’mon, it won’t bite.”

You’re going to pass it, you’ve decided, and you take the tea with a murmur of thanks before shifting it with your fingertips to turn in your hand and drink from that same spot as well. Wriothesley sits up a little, then leans back on one hand again, and looks oddly satisfied for something so simple.

The quiet makes things easier when there isn’t a looming expectation for you to be a good host. The food is finished, and your hunch about sweets was right as he lounges on the blanket and rummages in the back of candied fruits. Unable to keep from watching, you wear a little smile as he chews one thoughtfully, then takes another in quiet approval.

Catching your gaze, he tilts his head a little toward you and asks, “Want one? These are pretty good.”

Nodding, you hold a hand out for him to place one, but he holds his fingers up. They’re visibly coated in little sugar crystals, likely sticky from the candies. “No use getting your hands dirty. Open up.”

Not a single thought rolls through your mind. Nothing at all. Just an odd sort of white noise as you watch him pull a candy from the little bag and hold it with his fingertips, fully intent on feeding it to you. If you back down now, you’ll surely kick yourself for it later, and with bated breath you open your mouth.

The sweetness blooms across your tongue before the candy even touches it. One of his fingertips just barely grazes across your taste buds as he deposits the slice of fruit, and you look at him with wide eyes and your heart pounding hard enough that it must be visible on your chest. You want to die, or maybe you’re already dead, and your mind is shooting its last bits of electricity before you pass on.

“Good, huh?” Wriothesley asks like he hasn’t caused you to toe the line of passing out. He brings his fingers to his mouth, lips wrapping around his index, then his thumb, and he murmurs around it, “Want another?”

How do you explain that if he does that to you again, you’re going to perish?

Luckily, your stunned silence is enough of an answer that he finishes off the candied fruits on his own, sprawled out on the blanket with one arm tucked behind his head and the other idly eating from the bag leaning against his hip. This is a disaster of the best kind, you’re not sure how to recover it. Is this even salvageable?

“I really should be getting back. There’s a lot on my plate today.”

“Oh, if that’s the case, you didn’t have to-”

“No, I didn’t, but I wanted to make an exception. So I did.” Wriothesley sits up, waving one hand as if that would be enough to ward off your worries about taking so much of his time on this picnic. Except he seems more relaxed, like the weight on his shoulders isn’t as heavy, and you wonder if it was a waste at all.

Wriothesley tries to help you clean up, but you nudge him away to give him an excuse to get back to work. As you pack things up, he awkwardly stands there for a moment just watching, before finally asking, “Should we just have our next date at Hotel Debord, then? Less hassle in carting things around, even if this was really nice.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, just let me know when.” You say absently, and he lets out a pleased little laugh before agreeing and leaving you alone. Only when you’re on your way back to the Court do you catch what he’d said, and the bowls in the box you’re carrying clatter together as you realize his proposition and drop them.

A letter with his wax seal is already on your desk by the next morning. It smells like him.

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley/reader #wriothesley #genshin #genshin impact #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #no pronouns or descriptions for reader

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