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lokis-army-77 · 1 year ago

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Pretty Girl and her Hoodie Guy

Modern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2.4k

It was supposed to be a sunny day until it wasn't, but that's okay because maybe love is right around the corner... or the bus stop.

Warning: E for everyone!! This is just really cute and if you don't read it I'll be very mad at yall >:(.

The first part of this is based on some pictures I saw on tiktok but I totally forgot to save it so I could give credit for the idea that it gave me.

Masterlist

It has rained almost every day in Chicago for nearly a week. So, the one day the weather forecast called for bright sunny skies and nearly eighty-degree weather, you decided to leave your umbrella in your apartment along with your umbrella.

The bus ride to campus was dry as could be, the weather was perfect and the slight breeze tickled as it made your skirt flutter around your thighs. The walk to class after getting off the bus was also crystal clear, not a single cloud in sight and the sun beat down brightly, you were thankful for the shade of the trees.

Three hours later, as you exit the English building, you notice it has gotten darker, clouds have begun to roll in. You sigh as you begin walking to the bus stop, hopeful that the weatherman was still correct about having no rain.

You and the meteorologist were both proven wrong when, halfway to the bus, the bottom fell out. Big, heavy droplets of rain started pouring down out of nowhere, almost instantly soaking you to the bone.

You begin to run as fast as your bag full of books and laptop will allow. You can only pray that the rain hasn't seeped through your backpack and ruined your things.

The bus stop is only a couple more feet away and when you make it under the awning you have a breath and set your backpack down on the bench. Today was such a bad day to wear a white shirt. The water had made it nearly see-through. Your white bra practically shining through the thin cotton fabric like a spotlight was on it.

As you try to squeeze the water out of your clothes you hear a deep cough, like someone clearing their throat. You look up. To your left is a guy, he's tall with shaggy hair and bangs almost covering his eyes. He's wearing a black hoodie and black jeans even though it had been almost eighty-three degrees mere hours ago. Your eyes catch on the glint of piercings in his ears before they wander to the peak of a tattoo showing just above the collar of his hoodie.

He looks at you with impossibly big, brown eyes, something you'd imagine only a puppy or a newborn baby to have.

"Here." He says before tugging the hoodie off. The way he reaches up and grabs the back of the garment to take it off has the shirt under it riding up. You can see an expanse of ivory skin covered in charcoal-black lines, tattoos. They cover almost every inch of skin and you suspect they go farther down, past the waistband of his jeans.

He shakes the hoodie out in front of you and you hesitate to grab it so he forces it into your shivering hands. The rain and the sudden drop in temperature are making you freeze.

"Put that on. It'll keep you warm and away from prying eyes." His smile is big and bright as he watches you put his clothes on.

It's big on you, more than big, enormous. What was a perfect fit on him, swallowed you whole. The hem came down almost to the back of your knees and the sleeves might as well have been a mile long.

"Thank you," you say softly with an even softer smile back at him.

"No worries." He then points at your hand and motions for you to reach it out to him. So, you do, without hesitation.

He grasps your hand in his and with the other, rolls up the sleeve. He then produces a pen from seemingly thin air and scribbles something down.

When he lets go of your arm, you hold it up. 10 scratchy numbers are etched over your forearm as well as a name. Eddie.

You go to ask him why he's given you his number when he beats you to it.

"Call me. I'll be needing that back." He grins, holding his fingers like a phone to his ear. You can't help the shy giggle that leaves you.

The guy, Eddie as you have just learned, then sprints through the rain and into the bus you hadn't even realized had stopped moments before.

He leaves you speechless and giddy. Butterflies are fluttering around in your stomach, making you dizzy. You have to sit down or else you think you might faint.

Never have you had an interaction like this. Something so simple and sweet. He drew you in front the first second you laid eyes on him.

It only takes you a few minutes to remember to come back to reality. Quickly you put his number in your phone under "hoodie guy (Eddie)"

....

It's a few days later when you finally work up the courage to call hoodie guy. It’s maybe three in the afternoon and as the other line rings and rings your nerves begin to eat at you as you wonder if he did really want you to call him, maybe a text would have been better.

Your thoughts are cut short when a rather chipper voice answers. “Y’ello?”

“Hi, is this Eddie?” You swear your anxiousness can be heard in your voice.

“Yeah… and who is this?” He questions.

“Oh, um. This is the girl you gave your hoodie to the other day, remember?”

“I remember you.” You could almost hear the smile stretching across his face. “Was beginning to think you wouldn’t call.”

You had it bad. Really bad. Just speaking to him for these few seconds had your heart racing. “Sorry about that. I wanted to wash it before I called.” You give him your name then, shyly introducing yourself.

He chuckles in response, “Pretty name for a very pretty girl.”

You’re glad this is a phone call, otherwise, Eddie would see how badly you are blushing. Your face is white hot and beet red, a dead giveaway to how this stranger has totally smitten you with two limited interactions.

You don’t realize you have been quiet this whole time until Eddie speaks up once more. “Hello? You there pretty girl?"

"Y-yeah," you stutter. "I'm here." You blush impossibly harder.

"Would you like to meet me at the coffee shop by the bus stop we met at? It'll be my treat." There's a hopefulness to his question.

You nod only to realize he obviously can't see you. "Yes," you answer. "I'd love to."

"Great! Can you be there in thirty?"

"Sure. I'll head that way now."

Excitedly you begin to get ready, putting way too much effort into your outfit, but hey it's not wrong to want to look good for the guy you find insanely attractive.

…

Thirty minutes later you are walking into the coffee shop dressed up in a cute, green corduroy pinafore dress, perfect for the upcoming fall weather, and a giant hoodie in your grasp.

You don't notice the large guy coming up to your side until he's poking a finger into your shoulder to grab your attention.

You jump at the sudden poke and turn to face the culprit.

"Oh'" you say surprised. "Hi."

"Hi." He smiles back. "I'm sitting over there if you want to take a seat. What do you want to drink?"

You're quick to shake your head. "You really don't have to do that. I can pay for my part." You start fumbling for your card in the back of your phone case.

He places a hand over yours. "I insist. What would you like?”

It doesn’t take much for you to give in and tell him your go-to order. After he repeats it back to you, you head to the table by the window Eddie had pointed to. His denim jacket was hung over the back of the chair, leaving you the booth seat to settle into.

The cafe is relatively empty, save for the two baristas behind the counter and the older man seated at the corner table reading a book, so it doesn’t take long for Eddie to come back with two coffees carefully balanced in one large hand and a plate with a warm croissant.

You try to help him but he tuts you away, quickly saying, “I got it, I got it.” He sets the plate down first before placing your glass in front of you and his before him. Then, he sits.

You both take slow sips from your coffee and as he looks intently at you with those eyes, you try and avoid them.

“This is for you.” He pushes the bread in your direction with the knuckle of his forefinger.

“I- thank you.” A fierce blush starts to creep up your neck and you busy yourself by drinking some more.

You know that Eddie can tell you’re nervous. Who wouldn’t be able to tell with your seldom eye contact and soft, stuttering words? He starts the conversation off slow, easing you into a more comfortable state, you’re grateful for it.

Questions like “How’s your day going” to his only little version of twenty questions finally get you to break out of your shell. He makes you laugh, a lot, to the point your stomach hurts and your muscles ache.

Conversation flows easily after the initial bump in the road. You’ve talked about college and life after; he’s studying in the music department with plans to eventually become a professional musician. He tells you about his dreams and ambitions and you can’t help but feel inspired. You tell him about the book you would love to write one day and he listens intently. He even asks questions and refers to things you stated previously in the conversation. Never have you had such a connection with anyone, not even your closest friends.

Eddie is so charming and witty that it barely even registers when both of your hands meet in the middle of the table. His larger fingers play with your smaller ones and you converse in your own little world.

You’re only broken from your state of enchantment with the other when a cafe worker approaches you.

“I’m sorry guys but we close at four on Sundays and it’s ten till.” The worker gives you a strained smile, the underlying message, “Please leave.”

You gasp in shock. “How have we been here for three hours?”

Eddie looked at you, just as surprised. “Well, time does fly when you’re having fun, pretty girl.”

You shake your head. The complement turned pet name making you blush every time he said it but not as hard as when your name rolled off his tongue.

“Come on,” he says, standing to his feet. “I’ll take you home.” He reaches for your hand and pulls you up after you quickly gather up your purse and his hoodie.

As you walk out, you both apologize profusely to the two workers for staying right until closing.

“How are you gonna take me home?” You ask. “You took the bus the day we met.” You really didn’t want him spending an extra bus fare just to escort you home.

He gives you a lopsided grin. “I took the bus 'cause I had an inkling not to listen to the weather. This is my usual ride.” Eddie arcs his hand out in front of you both, gesturing to the sleek black motorcycle resting by the curb.

“Woah. That is actually really cool.” You gush. You had always wondered what it would be like to ride on a motorcycle.

Eddie reaches out and grabs the helmet strapped to the seat and hands it to you. “Wear this.”

“What about you?”

“You’re precious cargo, far more important than me.” He answers before helping place it over your head and buckle it under your chin. Then he takes his hoody from your arms and ties it around your waist. “That should cover you up enough.” He gestures to your dress. You hadn't even thought about that detail and his mindfulness had you swooning.

He gives you a small but thorough lesson on what you do as a passenger before getting on and then helping you on after.

He drives slowly, taking less busy streets to the address you gave him, and the whole time you cling to him. Your heart beats wildly in your chest at the feeling of freedom as the wind whips around you. Every so often, Eddie will reach for your hand at his waist, or when you are stopped at a red light he automatically reaches back to cup your legs, fingers dragging up the back of your calves.

You’re sad when the ride comes to a stop outside your apartment building. You are slow you follow him off the bike and even slower to let him remove the helmet. This amazing time was coming to an end and you desperately didn’t want it to.

You can feel his calloused fingers tickle your chin as he undoes the strap. He’s careful to pull the protective gear off, fixing the strands of hair that fall out of place when he’s done. You cherish the warmth coming from his palm and it really feels like he’s about to kiss you. And you wouldn’t mind if he did. No matter if you only just met him or if this seemed to be moving fast, you wanted to know what those plump lips felt like on your own.

He leans in and your breath hitches in your lungs, your eyes close as you prepare with the one thing you need at this moment. Only, Eddie doesn’t kiss your lips, instead, he places a gentle peck on your cheek. You deflate, sad his target was somewhere else.

“Eddie?” You ask softly.

“Yeah?” He mutters your name, eyes staring into yours.

“I had a great time.”

“Me too, pretty girl.”

“Thank you for bringing me home.”

“You’re welcome.” He backs away from you and you frown just a bit. “You should get inside.”

“I should… I’ll text you?”

“Nothing I’d want more.” He slides his leg back over onto his bike and you turn to walk away.

“By Eddie.” You only get a few feet before you pause. “Oh, wait.” You untie his hoodie from your waist and rush back to Eddie’s side. “Here.”

He shakes his head. “You keep it. Looks better on you than it ever will on me. Plus, it’ll give me a reason to come see you again.”

You become shy again and the mention of seeing him again, hopeful that this wasn’t just a one-time thing to get his clothes back and that he will answer when you text or call him.

“Bye, pretty girl.” He grins and you watch him put his helmet on but he doesn’t leave just yet. No, he only leaves after he sees you enter your building and you waive to him from beyond the glass door.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #meet cute #eddie munson fluff #joseph quinn fluff #modern eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things x reader

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bbrissonn · 1 year ago

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𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭? - 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

summary: in which you tell the tucrotte boy about your relationship

disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting

warnings: couple of swear words, not proofread,

pairing: luke hughes x y/n zegras (lemon au)

wc: 1.7k

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-MID JUNE '23-

Being Trevor’s little sister, Alex Turcotte was no stranger to you, no he was practically another brother to you. The two hockey players have always been close during their NTDP days, but their bond only grower closer and deeper as they arrived in their neighboring cities to start their professional hockey careers. At first, the two were always together, getting tattoos at the same time, something you teased them about, going to check out cars, everything they did, the other was right next to him.

Over the time, your own friendship with the Chicago native grew, and he was the first person you’d talk to whenever you had problems you didn’t want your actual brothers to know about. He was one of the first to know about your new friendship with the youngest Hughes, the defenceman also seeing the Turcotte boy as an older brother since he lived with them for two years. It was safe to say Alex was over the moon when he found out his “adopted little siblings”, as he liked to call the two of you, were finally friends.

When you and Luke got together, you both wanted to tell Alex more than anyone else, but you both knew how bad he was at keeping secrets, getting too excited about them and blurring them out without even noticing. So, it was a mutual decision to not tell him before your brothers, not wanting him to tell your real siblings about your relationship.

You were pretty good at acting like nothing was going on whenever he’d question you about the Hughes boy, but for Luke, that was a different story. The boy stuttered everything he’d have to answer the simplest question about you, how you were doing, how your classes were, it all made Luke so nervous.

The worst time was when Alex called him while the two of you were studying in his room together, you could hear his voice coming from Luke’s phone speaker slightly, holding back a laugh as you heard your name being said. Your boyfriend looking at you with wide eyes, stuttering over his words as he informed the Turcotte boy that you were right next to him.

Their call ended with Alex asking the young boy to tell you he’d be calling soon, and Luke waisted no time hanging the phone and letting out a loud sigh as a laugh erupted from you. For the next week or so, you took every chance you got to tease him about how nervous he was, his face growing red everytime you’d mention it.

Now, here you sat on the dock of Jack and Quinn’s home in Michigan, your feet barely touching the water as birds sang in the air, the sound of the family a couple of houses over swimming being heard. It was early in the morning, none of the boys were up yet, having stayed up late last night considering today was a day off, meaning you had peace and quiet for what felt like the first time in almost a week.

You had been invited by the middle Hughes brother months ago when they were planning this, before you and Luke we’re even together, still in the early stage of your friendship. But, even if Jack hadn’t personally invited you, Luke would’ve asked you to come, or Trevor would’ve dragged you there, tired of hearing Cole complain about how excited he was to see his favorite Swifty, the boy deciding to buy you tickets to the show in Detroit for your birthday.

You had now been a resident of the Hughes’ brothers lake house for almost two weeks now, and sneaking around the boys had been pretty easy so far. They weren’t the smartest out there, and they also just never knew what was going on around them, making it pretty easy for you two to sneak around at night or even during the day. You and Luke both thought you were doing amazing at keeping your relationship a secret from the boys, well at least from his brothers and Cole, Alex though, he was different.

Whenever you and your boyfriend would be sitting next to each other on the boat, casually talking, the boy would always be looking over at the two of you. You ignored it though, thinking it was probably just weird for him to actually see the two of interacting for the first time, but that all quickly changed the night before your brother was supposed to arrive in Michigan.

You were sitting at the end of the dock, your feet barely touching the water as your eyes were stucked on the sunset in front of you. The lake was quiet, it always was during this time of day, most families either eating a late dinner outside or already starting a firecamp, which is what the boys were doing at the moment.

Firecamp time mainly included them arguing about who got to do what, and at first you would just watch and laugh, but eventually you grew tired of their childish bickering and decided the dock would be where you spent your time while you waited for them to do done. You liked to consider it your alone time for the day, considering the house was never silent until everyone went to sleep and the noise would start again early in the morning before they left to train.

You used the hours they were gone to sleep, since sleep hand’t came until the early hours of the morning staying up late in Luke’s room until the boy fell asleep before slipping back into yours, that you’d soon be sharing with Trevor.

“Hey.” Alex said, sitting down next to you. His voice made you jump slightly, lost in your thoughts, a small chuckle leaving his mouth at his reaction. “Sorry.”

“You’re good.” You told him, smiling slightly at him before focusing back on the sight in front of you.

“You okay?” The boy asked after a couple of minutes of silence, his words making you look over at him with a confused look on your face.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like there’s something… weird going on with you.” He mumbled. You bit the inside of your cheek slightly before looking back in front of you, the action going unnoticed by the older boy.

“I am normal.” You said confused, making Alex let out a laugh.

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N/N. It just feels like you’re hiding something, that’s what I meant by weird.” He explained after his laugh died down. You once again bit your the inside of your cheek, this time your action didn’t go unnoticed by the hockey player. His elbow nudge when he noticed how silent you were being. “Talk to me.”

“Can you keep a secret?” You whispered, your eyes now focused on the water below your feet.

“Mh-hm.”

“Luke and I are dating.” You admitted, your voice low, almost scared someone would hear. The boy next to you stayed quiet for a while, making you a little worried.

“Old news.” Alex said after almost a minute, making your head whip towards him with wide eyes. “Z couldn’t shut up about it, freaked out a little when he found out you two were already at the L word stage.”

“Trev told you?”

“Told all of us, we all know. That’s why I thought something was wrong, you and Luke weren’t acting like Trev describe the two of you. Asked Moose about it, why you were acting weird, said he thought you were acting pretty normal.” The curly headed boy explained, a soft grin on his face.

“Trev’s an asshole, I told him not to tell anyone.”

“You really expected him to be able to keep any kind of secret? He spammed our groupchat at like midnight, Jack wasn’t happy to get woken up.”

“How’d Jack react?”

“I think he’s scared. If something bad happens between you two, it’s gonna be weird for him and Z to act like nothing happened. And if nothing bad happens, he’s scared he’s gonna be stuck being brother’s in-law with him.” The boy explained. A part of you almost started feeling guilty for maybe ruinning your brother’s friendship, but you knew Luke was the one for you.

“Ellen said he’s never seen him like this.” You admitted, a smile of your own appearing on your face as your cheeks became a slight shade of pink.

“Can’t believe you didn’t tell me though, how long as it been?”

“Almost six months. December 14th.” You told him, a small gasp leaving his mouth.

“I am wounded!” He exclaimed, his right hand coming up to rest on top of his heart, making you roll your eyes. “We’ve only known since like April!”

After a couple of minutes of talking about your relationship with the youngest Hughes boy, you and Alex made your way back to the firecamp after Cole had called out for them. Once you had made it back, you saw Luke standing along in the kitchen, his back facing the outside. You excused yourself quietly before making your way in with a grin on your face.

Since the patio door was always left open, your boyfriend didn’t hear you, so when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist, it’s safe to say he freaked out a little. The cup he was holding fell on the counter, the drink he had made spilling everywhere as a yelp left his mouth.

“It’s just me Lemon.” You mumbled as you poked your head above his shoulder, standing on your tippy toes. His body turned slightly, grabbing your waist before bringing you in front of him, a yelp of your own echoing in the kitchen.

Before the defensemen had time to say anything, you quickly connected your lips together. You hands reaching to the back of his head and his neck, holding his body close to yours as your lips moved together. Whistles and howlers could be heard from the boys outside, making Luke pull away from you.

“What’re you―”

“They know, Lu, they’ve known. Since April, because Trevor can’t keep his fucking mouth shut.” You explained, Luke smiling down at your brightly before connecting your lips again. His arms now completely wrapped around your waist as he pulled your body to his as possible.

“I love you, Munchkin.”

“I love you more, Lemon.”

#bri writes #luke hughes #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x y/n zegras #lemon au #alex turcotte #trevor zegras #cole caufield #jack hughes

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empthy1 · 6 months ago

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Sydney Adamu - Blessed

for @wandaszn, who asked for some bottom!syd x reader :D warnings: soft smut, a lot of yapping, I've never seen the bear or been to Chicago so apologies for any inconsistencies in character or setting. also Cleo Sol reference b/c I was listening to her while writing this anyways first fic yippee!!

Small blessings.

That's what Sydney had.

A shitty apartment- but hey. The rent's low, and it has a small kitchen. She can't have a cat- her landlord would crucify her- but she wouldn't have time to take care of one anyway, with how much she works.

She has to take a bus that smells to work everyday it rains. Which is often. But it's only one stop and takes ten minutes, tops. She can deal with the woman with the yappy dog at seven in the morning, and the guy who always smelled like weed.

She found happiness in small things. Perfecting a recipe. A good day at the restaurant. Walking through the park on her one day off a month, getting pastries from a shop only a block from her apartment.

The big things came after she met you.

Now, she gets to come home after a long day to a bigger apartment, one that's less shitty. This one permits pets, allowing her to feel the brush of a orange, furred mass between her stepping feet as she crosses the threshold.

She can smell the takeout you'd gotten, the one night a week she's permitted you to (if she can cook for you, she sees no reason why you have to pay for someone to make it. She's totally not jealous). There's probably a plate set up, already in the microwave for her to heat.

She's not interested in that.

Her coat and bag are soon hanging from one of the racks on the wall, her boots discarded as well. She's already pulling off her sweater as she approaches your curled up form on the couch, your head already peeking out from the blankets. She can hear the soft voice of Cleo Sol in the air, the vinyl spinning happily with no potential noise complaint to worry about. Good neighbors are another unexpected godsend.

"Hey, Syd." Comes your soft, sleepy greeting. You're sitting up, the fabric slipping off of your form like water. Despite the cold temperatures outside, you're still warm as she sinks into you.

"Hi." She really, really doesn't feel like talking. It'd been a stressful day, the rush taking it out of the kitchen more than usual- especially with Carmy's ever-increasing perfectionism. Your coos in her ear are a welcome distraction, the kisses pressed to her neck a balm to her very soul.

Her hand wraps around the back of your neck, drawing your mouth to hers. She's ever so pliant after stressful days; she follows your lead easily as you lay her down on the soft cushions of the sofa you found (another blessing). The kiss you share is lazy, your warm hands softly snaking under her cotton bra to palm at her.

She can't focus on anything other than your hands, her lips stalling under yours- only opening to let soft, pleased sounds escape. It allows your mouth to focus on her neck, to drag down a beautiful throat, gleaming in the low lamplight.

She doesn't protest as you unclip her bra. A sigh of relief escapes her, the almost painful underwire that'd plagued her for hours no longer a problem. Another sigh, this one more a moan, sounds when your mouth meets the skin of her chest and envelops a peaked bud.

You linger there for a minute, pressing gentle kisses to every inch of skin you can. It makes the heat in her gut grow, like a bear rousing from hibernation- ever present, but dormant. Her strong hands meet your shoulders, her one callused finger rough. She's pushing you down towards the curling warmth.

Her hips lift as your hands meet the waistband of her jeans. The button slipping free makes her jolt impatiently. The slow drag of the zipper forces a whine free from her tensed throat. She's kicking the denim off before it even reaches her ankles, drawing a laugh from your throat. She almost kicked you in her neediness.

With the show you made of her pants, she's relieved when her damp panties soon follow. The sound torn from her chest when your mouth meets her is nothing short of guttural. Your tongue is warm as it sweeps through her folds, gently exploring the flesh you're so familiar with as if it's the first time. Little whines escape her, soft noises of pleasure filling the open living-room, joining the sweet mix of instruments and voice.

She almost sobs when you lap at her clit, her hands fumbling for something to grab- soon finding your roaming fingers, interlacing with them and resting, joined, on her heaving chest.

Her climax isn't something unexpected, doesn't creep up on her; it's a soft, slow build, the feeling of your tongue on her soaked flesh and your fingers in hers getting more and more intense with every passing minute. When your tongue moves, slipping down and in, her hips raise with a groan, fingers squeezing yours as she gushes on your tongue.

Her mind is gone to the heavens, even after you withdraw. When you curl next to her, throwing one of the many blankets over the both of you. Her lips lazily meet yours as she wraps her bare arms around you. Her expert tongue, refined from hours of study in the kitchen, tastes your mouth. The mix of sour her and sweet you may be the most exquisite thing she's every had.

Despite her nakedness, and the chill seeping in from outside, she drifts off, warmer than she's ever been, feeling so blessed to have your soft, solid form against hers and a lazy cat at your feet.

The music plays on. The snow still falls. However, nothing breaks the bubble, the home you've made with each other.

#kiera's fics ₊˚⊹ ࿔#sydney adamu #ayo edebiri #sydney adamu x reader #the bear fic

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yellowharrington · 1 year ago

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jaded -- chapter 1, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: sexual content, mention of unprotected piv sex, swearing, workplace relationship. minors dni with this story please.

word count: 1.4k+

a/n: guess who's back... back again... natty's back... tell a friend.... hey besties lol ik its been a year but i've been obsessed with the bear so i decided to write this. it will be a multichaptered fic and i will update it as soon as i've finished writing the chapters lmao. inspired by the song "jaded" by miley cyrus. pls pls pls enjoy

summary: fresh off of his breakup with claire, carmy needs a rebound. he just doesn't expect it to be his pastry chef.

masterlist | chapter 2

It starts with a ride home after service.

The sun had fallen down over the horizon, painting Chicago black with night. It’s chilly, middle of February, and you and Carmy are the only ones left at the restaurant. You’re both at the lockers, grabbing the last of your things and turning off the last few lights, leaving it behind you as you step out into the darkness of the street. Only amber lights are above you, illuminating Carmy’s face, along with the glow of his lighter around his cigarette. “How are you getting home?” He asks, looking down the alleyway. “Just the train,” you reply, gesturing towards the station a few blocks down the road. “Let me drive you,” he smushes the cigarette underneath the toe of his shoe, looking up at you, rather softly. “Oh, it’s not far,” you try to step the other way, before he grabs your shoulder lightly. “It’s cold, and fuckin’ dark, and there’s murderers. Just let me drive you home.” He was nothing if not protective.

It really had been a short drive, slow tunes coming from his old car’s radio, drowned out by the sounds of the city around you. It was generally silent, Carmy’s hand on the gear shift. “It’s just up here,” you gesture to the building up the street. “Just take a right.” He does, obeying your action, pulling up in front of a 3-floored walk-up. “Thanks,” you grab your backpack by your feet, opening the door and giving him a small look before stepping out. “Hey, listen,” you start. His eyes are dark, sunken, tired. He’s wearing his usual wool jacket around a cozy navy blue sweater. “I was working on something before work this morning. A… a dish. Can I show you really quick? And you can tell me what you think?” He looked at the time on his phone, and then up at you. Baby blue eyes, peering from under thick lashes. “Sure, chef,” he says quietly as he puts his car in park and unbuckles the seatbelt.

When you walk him up to your apartment, he’s endeared. You let him in, and your place smells of vanilla candles and laundry, from the load you’d done before work earlier that day. “Sorry about the mess,” you gestured to small pile of plates and spoons in the sink, and the aforementioned unfolded laundry on the couch. “You’d lose your mind if you saw my place if you think this is mess,” he laughed, pushing a hand through his soft golden hair. Your own coat comes off as you make your way into the kitchen, and he has to stop himself from staring. Your tight jeans fit your body perfectly, white t-shirt coming up over your hips only enough for him to see a dark tattoo on the back of your hip. You poured him a cup of cold water and put it in front of him, before firing up the burner on your stove and putting a stainless steel pan on the orange-blue flame. “Make yourself at home.”

He wandered around your apartment a bit, peering into your bedroom. Soft white bed, soft sheets, big fluffed pillows. An open window, letting a chilly breeze in, curtains slightly swaying with the night air. It reminds him of her, her soft sheets, big eyes, the nights he slept next to Claire and kissed her supple cheeks and pink lips. She was like this too; eager, clean, happy, simple. Easy to be with, and easy to like. You’d given off a similar energy the same day you walked into the restaurant on your first day, and you had reminded him of her. Kind eyes, warm presence, but with a different demeanour that chefs almost always had. A jaggedness, he thought.

The sound of the plates being put on your small kitchen table snapped him out of his daydreams, as you held out a fork for him. “It’s a, uh, mango custard, bit of toasted cardamom and coconut cream in there, and, um, a coconut macaroon with a homemade chutney.” He raises his eyebrows at the dish before him, plated beautifully, and takes a small bite of each component. You seem to wait for hours as he takes his time, feeling every ingredient on his tongue before setting down his fork on the small white plate. “It’s tremendous, chef,” he says quietly, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Almost perfect. Could use maybe an acid, it’s a little sweet, but, wow,” he looks up at you to see your wide eyes, excited at his answer. This was, essentially, the highest praise from Carmy you could get. “Thank you,” you say quietly, watching as he takes another forkful of the dessert.

“What’s the tattoo on your hip?” he asks, pointing at the right side of your body, where your shirt had ridden up before. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since he caught a glimpse. “Oh, um,” your cheeks turned a soft shade of red, standing up to lift up your shirt and show him. “It’s, uh, a snake. It goes down my leg too,” you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to show him a bit more of the ink, further exposing the thin strap of the black thong you had on. “Got it a long time ago, in school. Just wanted to feel cool I guess.” He stands up, slowly, coming to lightly pin you against the counter. It’s safe, it’s easy, and suddenly it feels so fucking right to have him here under the dim kitchen light. “Can I see the rest of it?”

All bets are off, then. Your jeans are pooled around your ankles in a second as he’s feverishly kissing your lips, hands everywhere, his calloused palms against your soft ass. His sweater is off, along with his signature white tee, showing off the glistening gold chain against his bare chest. You’ve managed to push his jeans down just enough to slide a hand into his waist band, eliciting a soft, breathy moan from him into your mouth.

When you stumble back into your bedroom, it’s all a blur. It’s hot skin against hot skin, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as his hands work their way in between your wet folds. They’re so gentle, yet he knows what he’s doing, so the slow circles on your clit as he lets himself rut against you are making you unbelievably wet for him. “I want you so fucking badly,” he pants into your ear, letting a finger easily plunge into you as you open your legs wider for him. “Is this a good idea, Carmy?” you let your fingers thread through his hair, allowing him to look up at you. His usual baby blues were dark again, lustful and wanton. “No,” he says matter-of-factly, but the smirk on his lips is so unbelievable, a cruel man above you. “Should we do it anyways?” You ask, your own smile playing on the corners of your mouth, allowing your hips to rut against his fingers, fucking yourself to feel more of him. He takes a large hand to your breast, letting it slide up, thumb slipping onto your lower lip and into your mouth. “Yeah… yeah, of course we fucking should.”

It’s so easy with him, which is what makes it so hard. He knows right where to kiss, where to touch, where to love on your body. He knows to take his hands to your sides, pushing you into the mattress as he laps at your clit and kisses your inner thighs, looking up and watching you take your own tits in your hands, squeezing them together, looking down at him with such need. He knows to slide up between your legs, and to cradle your neck in his hand, his thick cock plunging into you and making you weak, making his thumb wet with his own spit and bringing you to your orgasm, spasming around him, moaning his name into his mouth like a prayer. It doesn’t take much longer after that for him to spill inside of you, warm and deep, lips locked around his as you helped him ride his orgasm out. And it feels right, and real, when he lays next to you and kisses your chest and arms before falling into a deep sleep, your soft comforter over his chest. It all feels so fucking right, that first time.

But the next morning, all you have is an empty bed. And it doesn’t feel right anymore.

#carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfic #the bear fanfic #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fx fanfic #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy x you

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lizzyiii · 3 months ago

Text

His Darling (3)

pairing | loki x fem!reader

word count | 5k words

taglist | if you'd like to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC

summary | you and loki have a one on one, and suddenly strange dreams seem to find you, ones of a mysterious man and a different time

note | language, violence

a/n | i really enjoyed writing this chapter. Also bare in mind I'm writing literally from the show, merely adding a character insert, so if you don't like the way certain characters are written cough (sylvie) cough, just know that this is directly from the show.

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ - ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ - ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

“May I see your hands?”

Your gaze snapped to Loki, his tone unexpectedly serious against the backdrop of the ship’s creaking timbers. After hours of searching and navigating through chicago, you had miraculously pinpointed Victor's coordinates.

The relief of discovery was dulled by the exhaustion weighing heavily on your limbs as you leaned against the deck, the salty sea air doing little to revive your spirits.

With a weary sigh, you extended your hands to him, your fingers trembling slightly. The light scrapes from when you’d climbed out of the lake were still evident, reminders of how chaotic the day had become.

Loki took your hands in his, his grip warm and surprisingly comforting. A soft green light enveloped your wounds as he concentrated, his magic flowing into you like a gentle tide, soothing the rawness and stinging pain.

You could feel his energy mingling with yours, But when you finally pulled your hands away, the familiar throb of a migraine surged back, sharper than before, as if reminding you that the fight wasn’t over.

“I want to go home,” you murmured, the fatigue clear in your voice. The longing for the simplicity of your life back in your world.

Loki’s voice, laced with guilt, followed you. “I think perhaps we should have let you stay at the TVA.”

You snorted, shaking your head incredulously. “You think?” The sarcasm dripped from your words, a defense mechanism honed by endless encounters with chaos. The ship swayed gently beneath your feet, the rhythmic lapping of waves a distant echo to the turmoil swirling in your mind.

“Sorry,” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves lapping against the ship. “I turn into quite the bitch when I’m tired and overstimulated.” It wasn’t an apology so much as a self-deprecating admission, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Loki, leaning casually against the railing, tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly but not in a judgmental way.

There was something understanding in his gaze, something softer than you’d expect from a god who had wreaked havoc across the universe. “Understandable,” he replied, his voice smooth, tinged with an odd empathy. “This situation is... a lot.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh, brushing a hand through your disheveled hair. “That’s the understatement of the century. But no—being patient is important. Nobody wants to be around a bitch the entire time.”

Loki’s eyes never left you, his expression shifting to something you couldn’t quite read. It wasn’t pity, but something... tender? “That’s an interesting perspective,” he said slowly, as if he were weighing each word.

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm golden light across the ship's deck, the early rays glinting off the water like diamonds.

You raised a brow, unwilling to let the mood get too heavy. “What, you expected me to be a diva all the time?” Your voice was light, but your exhaustion was starting to catch up with you.

He tilted his head, studying you with that infuriatingly calm gaze. “No, I didn’t. But there’s something admirable about how you handle everything.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Well, I’m not sure ‘admirable’ is the right word. Barely keeping it together is more accurate.” You shifted slightly, trying to keep the conversation flowing so you wouldn’t collapse from sheer exhaustion. “Did you enjoy my concert?”

A small smile tugged at his lips, though it was more subdued than you expected. “I’ve never been to one before,” he admitted, as though the idea of thousands of Midgardians screaming and jumping to music was a foreign concept to him. “I enjoyed the part where I listened to you sing. Not so much the part being surrounded by sweaty, screaming mortals.”

That brought a soft laugh from you, the corners of your mouth lifting. “Sounds about right. Though, at least you made it through.”

He paused, as if considering whether to admit something. “I enjoyed the first song the most.”

Your smile softened as you looked away for a moment. “That one’s special,” you said quietly. “It was the first song I ever wrote. Always had a place in my heart.”

Loki watched you with interest, his gaze growing more intent. “What is it about?”

You hesitated, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment. It wasn’t exactly casual small talk material. “It’s a bit heavy,” you confessed, turning your gaze back to him with a sheepish smile. “Not exactly the sort of thing you talk about with someone you’ve known for all of... what? A few hours?”

He seemed almost amused by your reluctance, though he kept his expression neutral. “I’ve lived for centuries, Darling,” he said, that familiar mischief flickering in his eyes. “A few hours is more than enough time.”

You smirked, not letting him get the upper hand. “I’ll tell you when we’ve known each other for a day,” you teased, the smile in your voice clear as day.

Loki opened his mouth to respond, but stopped short as a genuine smile crept onto his face. “A full day, hmm? I’ll hold you to that.”

You couldn't help yourself. Curiosity gnawed at you, and despite knowing it might be stepping on thin ice, you asked anyway. “So, what’s the deal with you and Sylvie?” The question slipped out, your voice intentionally light, but the underlying edge of suspicion was hard to miss.

Loki’s features tightened slightly, his blue eyes narrowing, a hint of confusion crossing his face. “What deal? There is no deal,” he replied, though the defensiveness in his tone was obvious.

You tilted your head, a skeptical look crossing your face as you watched him closely. “Really?” you asked, dragging out the word a little too pointedly.

“Because from where I was standing—in the middle of all that chaos—it sure seemed like there was a lot of tension in that Ferris wheel compartment before I got blasted out of it.”

Loki’s jaw tensed, and though he tried to remain composed, you caught it—just the faintest flicker of something in his eyes. Unease? Hesitation? He quickly masked it with his usual cool demeanor, but it was too late.

Loki sighed, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. “It’s complicated,” he muttered, his voice lower now, avoiding your gaze.

You tilted your head further, watching him closely. “It always is, isn’t it?” you said, but this time, there was no bite to your words. Just curiosity....

Mobius plopped down beside you, his usual easy-going nature in full swing as he chimed in with a casual tone, “Loki and Sylvie? Yeah, that’s a bit of a complicated relationship.” He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but the moment the words left his mouth, your jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Sorry—what?” Your eyes widened, your shock almost comical. “That’s new,” you blurted out, your voice tight with a mix of surprise and discomfort.

An awkward laugh escaped your lips as you pressed them into a thin smile, your mind racing to process the information.

“You know, I actually don’t think I needed to know that,” you muttered, feeling a strange, unfamiliar twist in your gut, like you’d just uncovered something you weren’t quite sure how to feel about.

“We’re not in a relationship,” Loki cut in quickly, his voice sharp with irritation. He shot Mobius an exasperated look, his brows pulling together in a tight line. Clearly, this was not the kind of conversation he wanted to have.

“Really?” You cocked your head, eyeing him with suspicion. “And here I was thinking it was some sort of weird emotional sibling dynamic,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood, though deep down, there was a flicker of something more—a hint of unease. “My bad.”

Loki’s lips twitched in frustration, but he said nothing. His silence was louder than words, though, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the unspoken tension between the two of them.

“Seriously, what in the Targaryen is this then?” you joked, your voice laced with playful sarcasm as you tried to brush off the awkwardness. But the joke landed heavier than you intended, a bitter edge clinging to it.

Mobius frowned, genuinely confused. “What’s a Targaryen?”

You blinked at him, momentarily taken aback by the confusion in his voice. “It’s just… a family with dragons,” you said, waving it off with a strained smile.

Even as you laughed it off, that strange, restless feeling refused to let go—a tug at the back of your mind. There was something about Loki that lingered, something you weren’t quite ready to confront.

You glanced at him, bathed in the warm morning light, his figure outlined in shades of gold that almost made him look like a figure from legend. He was every bit the god people whispered about, with that noble bearing and gaze that seemed to hold lifetimes of secrets.

You tried to brush it off as a simple infatuation, because he was indeed, an attractive man. You’d had a hundred fleeting crushes before; surely this was just another. Tomorrow, this feeling would be gone. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you shifted slightly, resting your head on your arms, eyelids growing heavy until, finally, sleep pulled you under.

Dreams swept over you like a thick fog, but they felt different somehow, as if they belonged to another time, another life. You could hear voices, though the faces remained hidden in shadow.

“Where have you been?” The male voice was vaguely familiar, the tone edging on impatience.

“With your mother,” came your own voice, though you couldn’t remember the conversation. You sounded brighter—full of some distant energy.

“Why?” the voice asked, confused.

“Oh, I always have tea with the Queen,” you answered, your tone filled with cheekiness. “We discuss the usual: my magic, how I’m becoming a brilliant young lady, and, of course, how I’m the daughter she never had.”

A scoff followed. “You exaggerate.”

“I don’t, I swear, darling,” you teased back, the fondness in your words almost startling. It felt as if you knew this person deeply.

There was a pause, then a serious tone, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What?” you asked, your tone dropping, sensing the shift.

“A betrothal,” he said, his voice heavy with something that almost sounded like hesitance.

Before the words could settle, a gentle hand shook your shoulder, pulling you back to the present. You blinked your eyes open, and Mobius was looking at you with a small smile. “D, rise and shine. Time to wake up.”

You pushed yourself upright, the fragments of the dream still lingering in your mind, leaving you with a curious, aching feeling you couldn’t place.

The rocking of the ship had only just faded from your bones when a new, sharper pain made itself known—a pounding in your head that felt as though it clawed its way from the inside out.

Even as you reached Timely’s warehouse, the pain seemed to twist and deepen, coursing through every part of you until you could hardly hear Mobius and Loki’s voices over the waves of it.

Your feet slowed as they moved ahead, and you tried to catch your breath, gripping the cold wall to ground yourself. It wasn’t a typical headache; it was as if something within you was desperate to be unleashed, like a rising tide threatening to burst through the dam.

No amount of focus seemed to hold it back, and by the time you forced yourself inside the warehouse, Renslayer had Timely in her sights, weapon drawn.

“Move any closer, and he’s done,” Renslayer warned, her voice tense.

Your vision blurred as Mobius spoke, “Stop, Ravonna. Is this the free will you wanted? Look at me. You’ve lost your way.”

But even his words became muffled under the weight of the migraine, a storm that was building into something relentless. Each heartbeat seemed to pulse through you like a wave of energy, and the ache surged, making your knees buckle slightly.

You clutched at your head, but the pain within you didn’t stop—if anything, it was only growing.

You barely registered the blast that knocked you and everyone else off their feet, the impact ringing in your ears. When you lifted your head, Sylvie had appeared, stepping toward Timely with her machete drawn. She looked ready to finish him, but just as she raised her arm, the pain in your head hit its peak—a final burst of energy that clawed its way to the surface.

You couldn’t hold it back any longer. A sharp groan escaped your lips, and everyone’s eyes snapped toward you. Loki’s face was a mix of confusion and concern, his gaze fixed on you as he called out, “Darling?”

But you could barely hear him as the power overwhelmed you, ripping free in a yell that echoed through the warehouse. A pulse of energy exploded outward from you, shattering the windows and sending everyone crashing to the floor.

And as the last of the energy left you, darkness crept in, and you felt yourself slip into unconsciousness, the echo of Loki’s voice the last thing you heard.

When the energy had dissipated, Loki rushed to your side, his gaze wide with alarm as he knelt down and gently lifted you into his arms. His expression softened, worry etched deeply into his features as he brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face, clearly shaken by what he’d just witnessed.

Before he could fully process, Victor Timely’s voice shattered the moment. He was facing down Sylvie, her machete leveled dangerously at his throat.

“Get him out of here,” she finally ordered, her voice hard, though her eyes flickered with a mix of hesitation and resolve.

Mobius didn’t need further prompting; he opened a time door nearby, his face unreadable as he took in your still form cradled in Loki’s arms. He and Loki exchanged a look—an understanding, a silent agreement—and without another word, Mobius gestured for them to go through.

With careful movements, Loki lifted you fully into his arms, feeling the weight of your limp form against him. The surge of energy you’d released—it was unmistakable. You had magic, and not just any magic. It was powerful, raw, and brimming with something he hadn’t seen in quite some time.

Together, with Timely, Mobius, and you still unconscious in his arms, Loki stepped through the time door and back into the TVA.

In the depths of your dream, that same familiar voice echoed softly, stirring something warm and distant within you.

“What would I do without you, darling?” he said, his tone playful, yet laced with something deeper.

You smirked, even in your dream, responding with that familiar sassy charm, “Die, most likely. A thousand deaths, I suppose.”

The man’s laugh was rich and smooth, almost like a melody, and it filled you with a feeling of comfort you couldn’t quite place. You felt yourself smiling, savoring the warmth of that laugh, before it all began to slip away, consciousness pulling you back to the present.

Slowly, you blinked awake, the dim lighting and metallic surroundings of the TVA coming into focus. A throbbing ache pulsed at your temples as your vision cleared, and soon you found yourself gazing up into the concerned faces of Mobius and Loki. Both looked a mix of worried and… perhaps relieved?

“What happened?” you murmured, frowning as the remnants of your dream slipped away.

“You released an extraordinary magical energy,” Loki replied, his hand steady on your shoulder as he helped you sit up. His gaze was searching, as though trying to decipher something he didn’t quite understand yet.

You frowned, rubbing at your temple, piecing together flashes of the confrontation with Renslayer. “I’m sure that was Sylvie’s doing,” you said slowly, though doubt flickered in the back of your mind. It was like trying to recall something half-forgotten yet seared into your bones.

Mobius shook his head, clicking his tongue thoughtfully. “The first blast? Yeah, that was Sylvie. But the second… well, that was all you.”

You blinked, trying to process that, and as you did, Loki’s intense gaze bore into you, his blue eyes filled with a quiet certainty. “Which means…” He paused, his voice lowering, “…you’re not entirely human.”

You pursed your lips, looking down as you mulled over your next words. “I kind of… more or less knew that,” you admitted, the weight of those words feeling heavier than expected.

Mobius snapped his fingers in front of your face, breaking the silence as both men leaned in, their expressions sharp with curiosity. “Normalize explaining, please,” he pressed, quirking a brow.

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself off the table to stand, trying to avoid their expectant gazes. But the moment you tried to balance yourself, a wave of dizziness crashed over you.

Your vision blurred, and you swayed, feeling yourself start to fall. Just as quickly, Loki’s arm wrapped around you, steadying you and guiding you gently back onto the table.

“Easy now,” he murmured, his tone soft but firm, his hand lingering at your back as you steadied yourself.

Clearing your throat, you gave a small shrug, not quite meeting their eyes. “When I escaped the TVA and got to Earth, I tried one of those heritage tests a year later, just for fun… thought maybe I’d get some clarity on where I come from.”

Mobius’ eyebrows shot up, and he tilted his head. “Hold on—so you knew we weren’t just TVA-made creations?” His tone was incredulous.

“Sort of figured that out,” you replied with a deadpan expression, “when I got Mark from HR as my Uber driver once.”

Mobius snorted, while Loki’s gaze grew more intent, his eyes narrowing slightly. You cleared your throat again, bracing yourself.

“When I did the test, though, it came back… strange. No human DNA, not even close.” You leaned back, giving a wry smile. “And trust me, I had to pay a small fortune to keep the doctors from going public with that little revelation.”

You noticed the surprised glances exchanged between Mobius and Loki, but you waved them off dismissively, smacking your lips as you shifted the conversation. “So, is Timely dead?”

Mobius furrowed his brow in response, shaking his head. “Nope, he’s inside with OB.”

Feeling a surge of determination, you tried standing again. This time, your legs cooperated, and you found your footing. “Well, gentlemen, I do think I should be there then.”

After a quick change out of the uncomfortable corset gown into something far more practical—a tight-fitting black cotton skirt paired with a delicate, patterned top—you joined the two men. The familiar fabric felt comforting against your skin, a welcome change that allowed you to breathe easier. Together, the three of you made your way back to OB's lab, your heart racing with anticipation.

As you entered, Loki wasted no time, calling out, “OB, how’s it going?”

“Uh, we have a… we have a good plan,” OB stammered, a hint of nervous energy crackling in the air. He led you toward his machine, enthusiasm battling with anxiety. “It’s a pretty good plan.”

He motioned for you to gather around as he brought forth a mini Loom. The contraption was a jumble of wires and painted models, its haphazard design reflecting the urgency of the moment.

“Here’s a model I mocked up of the Loom. Forgive the shoddy and slapdash work. It’s not to scale. I only got one coat of paint on there. I haven’t been able to carve out figures to represent all of us,” he explained, gesturing animatedly.

You listened to OB intently, your gaze fixed on the chaotic array of machinery around the lab. The air hummed with anticipation and tension, every ticking clock and buzzing light amplifying the gravity of the moment.

Just as OB detailed the intricacies of the Loom’s mechanics, your attention was drawn to a figure in the corner of the room—a sight you hadn’t expected.

“What’s she doing here?” you blurted out, confusion etching your features as you shot Sylvie a dirty look. Her presence felt like a dark cloud looming over the proceedings.

Sylvie crossed her arms defensively, her glare piercing as she met your eyes with equal intensity. Before you could say anything else, Loki's voice filled the space, calm yet authoritative. “Sylvie wants to help.”

You raised an eyebrow, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “So we’re just going to forget how she almost killed me and Victor?” A hollow laugh escaped your lips, disbelief coloring your words. “Alright then.”

Loki opened his mouth, clearly about to say something, but Victor interjected, pointing toward another Loom. It resembled his initial design but with distinct modifications. “The Loom,” he said, his tone a mix of pride and apprehension.

OB, suddenly looking bashful, scratched the back of his neck. “I’m honestly embarrassed that Victor’s here to see it,” he admitted, his eyes darting away.

“You’re being hard on yourself. It looks great,” Mobius chimed in, his encouraging voice cutting through the tension.

"All right. What’s the plan?" Loki asked, his brows furrowed, an air of determination wrapping around him.

OB stepped forward, gesturing animatedly as he grabbed a figure to demonstrate on the mini Loom. "It’s simple," he explained, his voice steady with the weight of urgency. "One of us will have to take our Throughput Multiplier down the gangway. Load it into the launcher, then hit the green button to launch it towards the Loom."

He paused, letting the gravity of the task sink in. "It will dock with the Loom, scaling its capacity to manage the backlog of branches that was created when…" His tone shifted, dripping with sarcasm, "someone killed He Who Remains and released all those branches and ruined my life."

You subtly shot a glare at Sylvie, who stood with arms crossed, her expression a mixture of defiance and guilt.

Loki leaned in, curiosity piqued. "Hang on. What’s the connection between the Throughput Multiplier and the Loom?"

"The rings of the Loom aren’t wide enough," Casey chimed in, his voice steady but filled with concern.

"That’s correct," OB confirmed, his tone urgent. "We need to make the rings bigger so more branches can fit through. But there’s one gigantic problem."

Loki tilted his head, an eyebrow raised. "What’s that?"

“There is much, much more Temporal Radiation in here than there was when you went out there, Mobius,” OB stated, his voice thick with concern as he adjusted his glasses, eyes darting nervously between the group. The tension in the lab grew heavier, wrapping around you like a fog.

“More?” Mobius echoed incredulously, his brows furrowing. He inhaled sharply, then turned to Loki, determination etched on his face. “Okay, well, I mean, Loki’s really gonna have to hoof it then, right?”

Loki frowned, his ocean eyes widening in surprise as he met Mobius’s gaze. “Hang on a second. Why is it suddenly me having to hoof it?” He crossed his arms, an unmistakable petulance creeping into his posture.

“Because it’s your turn,” Mobius replied simply, shrugging as if it were the most logical conclusion.

“Says who?” Loki huffed, his frustration palpable. “Why? Why is it suddenly me?”

“Clearly, this isn’t me,” Mobius retorted.

You couldn’t help but watch their playful banter unfold, an amused smile creeping across your lips. “Just because it isn’t you doesn’t mean it isn’t me,” Loki added.

Mobius pointed to the miniature figure that OB had placed on the mini Loom. “It’s got your shape.”

“It’s got my shape?” Loki echoed incredulously, raising an eyebrow.

“And here I thought you were supposed to be this indestructible god,” you chimed in, unable to resist the urge to tease him further.

Loki turned to you, mock betrayal etched across his face. “Oh, I am, Darling,” he said, puffing out his chest slightly. “I most certainly am. But the fact remains—it’s a suit. It could be anybody.”

“It's wearing a helmet,” Sylvie interjected, irritation lacing her voice. “Doesn’t look like anyone.”

“Uh…” OB interjected, adjusting his glasses as he gathered his thoughts, his gaze darting between the group. “It doesn’t matter who it is. It’s doable. But this person just needs to be… woosh super-fast.”

“Okay, great. So, what are we waiting for? Let’s do this!” Sylvie clapped her hands together. You had to restrain yourself from scoffing; the situation was complicated enough without her unwittingly playing the role of instigator in all of this.

“There’s another problem,” Casey chimed in, a hint of concern creasing his brow.

“What’s that?” Loki asked, exasperation edging into his tone. He ran a hand through his dark hair, clearly growing impatient.

“This whole plan is only theoretical because our Throughput Multiplier doesn’t yet work,” OB replied softly, his voice filled with uncertainty.

“Why?” Loki pressed, his curiosity piqued.

“Wait,” Victor interrupted, raising a finger as if he’d just made a brilliant discovery. Everyone turned to him, intrigued. “Let me guess. The Loom’s temporal decay outpaces your Multiplier’s throughput capabilities.”

“Every time, yeah. How did you know that?” Casey shot back, surprised.

“Because I had the same problem with my Loom… until I made this.” Victor produced a small device from his pocket, holding it up like a trophy. “It’s a prototype. Still.”

Loki took a cautious step closer, narrowing his eyes at the device. “OB, it’ll work?”

“Integrating them, if that would even work, would take a long time,” OB replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He rubbed his temples as if trying to fend off a brewing headache from all the possibilities swirling around them.

Victor’s confidence, however, was unwavering. “Mr. Ouroboros,” he began, locking eyes with OB, “if anyone can make this happen, it’s you and me.” He extended his hand, and OB grasped it firmly.

Then OB turned his gaze to you, a hint of hope igniting in his expression as he added. “I think Darling could help too.”

Your heart fluttered at the mention of your name, a rush of excitement coursing through you. A surprised smile broke across your face, lighting up the dimly lit lab. “I’d love to, gentlemen. Just give me five,” you replied, your voice a harmonious blend of lightness and determination.

As you walked out of the room alongside Mobius, Loki, and Sylvie, Mobius turned to you, his trademark grin appearing as he casually murmured, “All right, let’s have a little pie while we wait.”

The mere thought of pie sent a warm flutter through your stomach, a brief distraction from the chaos surrounding you. Just as you opened your mouth to respond, Sylvie’s irritated voice sliced through the moment like a knife. “Pie?”

Mobius blinked, clearly taken aback by her reaction. “Yeah?” he said, confusion lacing his tone.

Sylvie crossed her arms, her frustration palpable. “What is the matter with you? You dragged me back here begging for help, so you must have some idea of what’s happening. Everything is turning to shit, and you want to leave it to them while we go and have some pie? Great idea, Mobius,” she spat, her words dripping with sarcasm.

“Sylvie, wait—” Loki interjected, his voice calm but strained, trying to bridge the rising tension.

“No, I won’t wait,” she snapped, her eyes blazing. Turning to Mobius, she continued with a scathing edge, “Come on. Let’s go and get some pie. Why not? It’s a great idea. Clocks don’t tick at the TVA, do they? You found out you’re a Variant, and you haven’t even looked, have you? It’s just another bad day at the office for you. Timelines are just lines on a monitor. Doesn’t matter if a few disappear. Because you’ve never bothered to look if one of them was yours. Does it even matter that the branches are dying?”

As she launched into her diatribe, you could feel your eye twitching at her relentless tone. With a huff of exasperation, you let out a huge scoff, your irritation bubbling over. “Because of you, sweetheart,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the tension.

Sylvie’s gaze snapped to you, narrowed and simmering with defiance. “Excuse me?”

“Yes, excuse you,” you replied, your tone firm as you stepped forward, undeterred. “Last I checked, no one dragged you here kicking and screaming. You came back of your own free will. And ever since, all you’ve done is complain, rather than help fix this situation that, frankly, you caused.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t see you helping,” she shot back.

“Oh, I’m about to,” you said, unbothered. “Once I’m in the right mindset, of course.” You held her gaze, unflinching. “And you know what? I think I’ve earned myself a bit of fucking pie after nearly drowning—thanks to you, mind you. And, FYI, I think I might have a bit of aquaphobia now. So maybe, just maybe, you could stop trying to be the victim so bad and actually do something useful instead of standing around, casting blame like it’s a sport.”

For a split second, Sylvie just looked you up and down, her jaw clenched. Then, with a dismissive huff, she turned on her heel and stormed off without a word. You rolled your eyes, not particularly fazed, but noticed Loki take a step to follow her.

“Wait,” you interjected, your tone edged with incredulity. “You’re really going to run after her after that little tantrum?”

Loki hesitated, torn between you and Sylvie’s retreating form. His brow furrowed, conflicted, but you shook your head, irritation flaring as you let out a heavy sigh then you reached for Mobius instead. He still looked solemn, her words clearly weighing on him.

“Come on, Mobius,” you said, slipping your arm through his with a gentle tug. “Let’s get that pie. I could use a bit of sweetness after all this.”

Mobius glanced down, managing a small, grateful smile as he nodded. You gave him a reassuring squeeze, just a little as you led him away, not looking back.

taglist

@eleniblue @nishayuro @astrynyx @agustdpeach

Hope You Enjoyed 💚💛

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki season 2 #loki show #loki series

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fallout-lou-begas · 5 months ago

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THIS IS A CHICAGO AIR AND WATER SHOW HATE ACCOUNT!!!!!!!!!! STUPID FUCKING FIGHTER JETS GO HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOUD AS FUCK DUMB ASS PLANES ALL DIE AND EXPLODE NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#louposting #chicago mentioned

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cloveroctobers · 1 year ago

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LUCA — summer prompts 🍋

A/N: taking a shot writing for Mr. Luca! Love when the bear gives us crumbs and I’m able to create/build more off what was given. Let’s give it up for Mr. Eyebrow king being in lurve 💛 also I promise this is the last time I’ll be using a song from this album but the entire album fits for the bear in my humble opinion, I’m not going to hold you!

WARNINGS: still trying to get a feel for Luca’s character so I hope I wasn’t too far off for him! Feels! A supportive partner! Mentions of mental health & dark thoughts that lead to dark actions—but not overly described but definitely hinted!

Added summer prompts from here & I’m using these two: “hey, you said to keep hydrated! i’m pretty sure there’s some water in this cocktail.” + “i’m not happy you’re sunburnt, but i am enjoying getting to be the one helping you put aloe vera on.”

*GIF BELONGS TO: @goodsirs

❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚

Being back in Copenhagen was a whirlwind of emotions but Peyton picked the very best one.

To tell you the truth, Peyton’s been away for about three months, and decided to take the trip back but not alone.

She’s the one leading the way, natural sway in her hips even beneath her cream shacket as she’s all smiles to the familiar workers who seem to be moving at ease. It’s a Sunday, a little after twelve and the restaurant isn’t as busy yet. In her mind, it’s the perfect time to show up, unannounced, although Sydney and Marcus were definitely questioning it.

Carmy doesn’t say much, deciding to take in the architecture of the dark painted walls and the industrial decor instead. He still follows behind as Peyton pushes the back doors open, holding it in place as she waves the three to where the real show is located.

The kitchen is louder and lively compared to the main floor: which is quiet with small chatter, cedar wood infused air, and the gentle splashing from the large stone water fountain, that’s tucked in the back of the main dining floor.

There’s at least six chefs moving around in the kitchen, handling different tasks and talking to each other in calm tones that aren’t as similar back in Chicago. It’s a whole different atmosphere, Carmy thinks and he knows his thoughts are matched as his round eyes peek over at Sydney’s while Marcus sends all split-tooth grins.

It doesn’t take long for Peyton’s eyes to find Luca’s frame, who has his back turned to the four, large hands tending to the dough on the counter that he’s kneading.

“Is that the guy?” Sydney asks, only hearing a few stories from Carmy and occasionally Marcus.

Carmy nods, “yeah, yeah. That’s Luca.”

Peyton continues holding the door for the chefs who start to leave the area, greeting Peyton on their way before she lets the door gently flap behind them after they take their exit. The woman with the hair full of volume takes a stand in between Marcus and Sydney.

“Welcome and welcome back to Brimstone’s Gate.” Peyton introduced the trio who further took in the environment of the kitchen.

Marcus took a deep inhale, “it’s nice to be back…after everything you know?”

A solemn mood is felt after his words.

“I absolutely get that,” Peyton comments as she rests a hand on his shoulder, “just consider this your second home. A place of comfort and to relax your mind.”

Marcus gives a small smile, “thanks, Peyton.”

“Of course.” Peyton moves to face the three again, smile on her glossed lips as she clasps her hands together while she begins walking backwards, “so brimstone’s gate is one of the popular restaurants here in Copenhagen just like the lovely owner and manager of this place that you just met, Ragmus previously said. It’s mainly known for its intricate desserts and quaint and savory cuisine.”

“You’re really selling it, Peyton.” Sydney tells with two thumbs up.

Peyton winks as she points out at the twenty-something year old, “thanks girl, it’s what I do.”

Peyton’s a successful Editorial Food Photographer and it became the best decision she’s made for her career.

“Should we be calling you presenter chef instead?” Carmy teases, “we could have used some of those skills at the bear.”

Peyton laughs as she rolls her thumb over her fingers, “where the money resides, honey.”

“Ah, and here I thought we were friends.” Carmy’s got a crooked smile playing on his lips while Peyton playfully scoffs.

They both know if Peyton was in Chicago on better terms, Peyton would definitely shoot some photos if that’s what Carmy really needed for The Bear. She met Carmy years ago, attending the same restaurant alongside Luca, until she decided creating food wasn’t her passion like her well-known food critic mother wanted it to be. Instead she liked seeing the visuals and telling hundreds of those stories through film.

“That’s a likely story,” she responds as she purposely bumps into Luca who hadn’t noticed they were here, “oh my apologies! Didn’t see you there, Chef.”

Both Marcus and Sydney both squinted and furrowed their brows at each other while Carmy folded his arms, waiting to see how this would play out.

Luca exhales, assuming it to be one of the new clumsy younger chef’s that just started here two weeks ago. He pulls some of the wet dough that sticks to his finger tips and barely glances upwards, a routine of words spewing from his lips, “t’alright chef, let’s just remind ourselves the notices we give out to one another when we cross around, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Peyton says, “Mind telling us what you’re preparing?”

His arched brows immediately furrow before he focuses in on who exactly is speaking to him. There’s surprise written right on his face, brows raising while Peyton is still full of soft smiles that she sends his way. He’s grabbing a rag then, struggling to break his eyes away to see the other three faces.

“Hey man,” Marcus starts which makes a slow grin appear on Luca’s own face.

“Good to see you again, Chef.”

Luca’s eyes trail over the small group, his eyes then settling on Carmy’s who still looks the same as he leans from one foot to the other but he’s full of more tattoos. Which almost makes Luca want to glance down at his own filled arms but he decides against it. He still liked his own artwork better.

“Carmen Berzatto.”

“Luca Hodgson.”

The three are watching the pair as if this is a pickle ball match. Sydney’s holding a breath as Luca makes his way over to Carmy, towering over him and face not revealing any emotion while Marcus is sending glances to Peyton who is behind analyzing Luca’s dish.

Luca says, “Are you still a know it all prick?”

Marcus was not expecting this since it was Carmy who reached out to Luca in the first place for his experience here months ago. He figured they were on good terms if Carmy wanted Marcus to learn from Luca. What changed?

“Well that uh depends, you still a show off, jackass?” Carmy met Luca’s eyes, not backing down in the slightest.

They hold each other’s stares before Luca breaks off into a laugh, followed by Carmy as they briefly embrace, hands clapping each other on the back in greeting.

“Oh, okay then.” Sydney mutters as she gazed over at Marcus who is also confused with a shrug of his shoulders.

Carmy then does the honors of introducing Sydney and Luca, who immediately shakes his hand, despite the sticky and warm residue from the dough.

“Pleasure to meet you, Chef Sydney. You probably can’t say the same now with dough on your hand, I suppose. I’ll grab you a wet nap.” Luca tells as he moves around to grab the said item.

He leans against the opposite counter where he was previously working, now fully wiping his own hands, glancing over at Peyton who’s all up in his dish as he voices, “I wasn’t aware any of you were coming. A heads up would have been cool.”

“So you’re not a fan of surprises, noted.” Marcus says while Luca dips his head about in a sorta motion.

Carmy scratched at his brow then, “We were under the impression that Peyton had it all sorted.”

Luca’s eyes are back on Peyton who’s listening but doesn’t provide anything to the conversation, it’s not like Luca could do anything about it now since they were all here.

“Don’t touch the remonce.”

“It’s not remonce yet,” Peyton looks over her shoulder at Luca who rolls his eyes.

Luca then says, “nice of you to let me know you were bringing guests.”

“They’re not guests, they’re practically family.” Peyton fans her hand about while Luca just lets out a sigh.

Carmy cuts in, “we’re not trying to disrupt the flow you have goin’ on here by any means.”

Luca snorts, “uh huh. It’s slow right now, so you lot are lucky I don’t mind.”

Sydney awkwardly claps her hands together, “great! We’re also really curious to what you’re working on…here at work.”

“Smooth, Syd. Real smooth.” Marcus teases while Sydney tightens her eyes sarcastically.

Luca looks back at his dish where Peyton is ready to show it off, posing in front of it like they were on jeopardy. The man cant help but to shake his head at her antics but announces, “I’m making frøsnapper.”

“It’s a traditional dish here,” Peyton mentions, “frø is a danish word for seed and frog.”

Sydney jokes, “Is it also going to leap off the tray after you take it out of the oven?”

Luca blinks but says with a straight face, “maybe if I throw in a few drops of green food coloring.”

It took a few seconds for Sydney to get the joke back, breathing out some slow laughter, while Marcus shook his head at her and Carmy watched as Luca briefly touched Peyton’s hips to make more space for him to talk about the pastry.

“Yes so, frøsnapper. Also known as for the English, seed snapper or frog snapper. It’s got remonce filling and once it’s done baking, it’s sweet and savory while the texture falls between flaky and delicate.”

“Like a croissant.” Marcus pointed out.

Luca shook his head, “Not quite, Marcus. This is Denmark.”

Marcus paused as he picked up on Luca’s mannerisms, “…fucker.”

Which makes Luca grin again.

“How long is Prep time?” Carmy asks as he makes the first move to get closer, peering at all the ingredients.

“About 12 hours or so.”

Carmy let’s out a low-whistle, “Shit.”

“Shit’s right mate and I started yesterday. It’s a excellent breakfast or pick me up for the afternoon, which is why I planned for it to be done today.” Luca explained.

Peyton speaks up, “and it will be…how long for the oven?”

“Fifteen minutes.” Luca automatically answers as he looks at the clock on the wall behind them all.

“See…Patience.”

“Every second.” Luca moves his winter deep ocean eyes to her ink colored ones, the two holding each other’s stare before he turns back to the rest.

“Any of you have allergic reactions to sesame or poppy seeds?” He asks, watching their facial expressions.

Carmy shrugs while both Marcus and Sydney shake their heads, ‘no.’

“Great, grab some aprons by the door there while I roll out the dough.”

“Oh, we’re doing work too on this vacation. Okay, yeah! I’m down.” Sydney rubs her hands together in excitement as she elbows Carmy lightly, who twists a smile onto his own lips.

Marcus is the first to move while Sydney follows. Carmy stays behind with Luca and Peyton as he picks up on the end of their hushed conversation:

“…I’ll be much better when we have dinner?”

“Cant. Not sure how long I’ll be here tonight, we have a few summer birthday gatherings here later. What about breakfast? It’ll be my day off.”

“Early meeting for me, I’ll be at the office.

“Lunch then?”

“…That works.”

“Finally.” Luca mutters as he takes his time but adds just enough pressure to roll out the dough, which makes Peyton let out a small laugh.

Sydney comes back, handing Carmen a apron who was mostly in a trance watching the dough get flattened that he didn’t bother to interrupt the conversation between old friends. He silently thanks Sydney before securing it around his waist.

Peyton leaves room for Marcus and Sydney to take her spot on the left of Luca, “and this is where I leave you three in good hands.”

“Wait…you’re not gonna get in on this?” Sydney is surprised while a smile is still planted on Peyton’s lips.

She motions to her outfit, “Looking this good? Not today, girl.”

Sydney eyes Peyton’s outfit which consisted of her brown voluminous hair pulled back into a claw clip, a cream opened corduroy shacket and a orange and white floral mini dress, “…fair point. I’m sure if you really wanted to, you could button that thing up and throw a apron on. Doesn’t seem like something you’d want to miss.”

“Your concern is touching, sis. But I actually can’t wait to get home and I’m sure Luca will save me one to try.” Peyton says as Luca is back in his zone now, trimming the edges of the dough and slides off the ingredients of the remonce to Marcus to mix together by hand.

Luca is listening as he replies, “yeah I will, see you at home.”

“See you at home.” Peyton repeats before winking at Sydney who is gapping, Marcus widens his eyes a bit, and Carmy is covering his snickers with a balled up fist.

Sydney turns back to the dish after Peyton leaves and mumbles, “so yeah, next time I’ll shut the fuck up.”

Which earns a laugh from both Luca and Carmy.

“You could have told us, Carmy!” Sydney whisper yells at Carmy who shrugs his shoulders.

Marcus chuckles, “Hey don’t feel bad, Luca didn’t tell me shit either the last time I was here and I’m kinda feeling a way about it now.”

Luca instructs Marcus to spread half of the remonce on one side of the dough then says, “I didn’t think we needed to share love stories just yet, Chef. The love was already there in the pastries.”

“Booo, how corny of you. Where’s the tomatoes?” Marcus snorts which Luca can’t help but to chuckle back.

Luca jokes after he nods his head in approval at the amount of remonce, “Looks like all of us were left out of something, huh?”

“If you don’t mind me asking…how long…?” Sydney starts as Luca takes over after Marcus folded the dough again, slicing it into twelve rectangles before he shows Sydney what to do next.

“What? How long have we been in love and decided to get engaged?”

“This fucking guy, how did you deal with him?” Marcus laughs, asking Carmy.

Carmy says, “we handled our beef outside.”

“What?!” Sydney squawks, “there’s no way you two fought.”

Luca explains, “it happened only once not far from the restaurant we worked at. And I don’t really classify that as much of a fight.”

“A punch to the eye wasn’t good enough for you?” Carmy’s eyes are in slits at this.

Marcus comments, “Damn.”

Luca defends, “A sucker punch isn’t fair. But I got you back, we scrambled a bit and then moved passed it the next day, bruises, cuts and all.”

Marcus concludes, “Sometimes that’s just how it works.”

“It smells like too much testosterone in here for me.” Sydney cuts in.

“Not sugar?” Luca lightly questions as he starts with the egg wash before handing another brush over to Sydney to help finish the rest.

Sydney scowls, “Yeah dude, I don’t know if I like you.”

“Join the club,” Luca winks over at Carmy who rolls his eyes with a small smile.

“Are you serious?” Luca wants to know just what his soon to be wife thought she was doing.

He met up with her, right on time, finding her sitting on the stone wall with what looked like a bright Orange cocktail in a plastic cup decorated with a little umbrella and fruit jammed along the straw.

They’re at the beach, it’s mid seventies, and there’s not many people on the walkway that rests along the sand. Mostly everyone else is taking advantage of the comfortable warmth on the sand. Luca and Peyton weren’t really beach people, preferring a lake and cabin any day but it was Peyton who suggested they meet out here since it was closer to her job.

It was far from their detached home but Luca didn’t mind the drive. He loved sight seeing when he made the time for it and usually when he had the time off, which was rare, he tried to get out there and see the world since there was so much to offer. He also couldn’t wait to be in Peyton’s face again; he wouldn’t count spooning her last night either, considering his face was covered with her bonnet.

Which he missed.

Conversations were meant to be had so that they could continue on with their journey together. She had to step away from their relationship for a few months and Luca was nothing more than understanding…although it stung a bit. He even offered to pick up and go to Chicago with her but Peyton told him life couldn’t be put on pause for her low moments, yet she was appreciative.

She dressed in jeans today as she hops off the wall, a smile in her brown eyes as she holds out her arms innocently, “hey, you said to keep hydrated! i’m pretty sure there’s some water in this cocktail.”

She’s mentioning the text message Luca sent to her a few hours ago, after she announced a headache was coming on after her meeting with her pushy manager. He was just checking in as he did a bit of laundry around the house but that didn’t stop his concern at all.

“Give me that,” Luca plucks the drink from her fingertips, fast as he sniffs at it before placing his own lips right on the straw, “hmm and here I was expecting vodka.”

“It’s not that kind of party, baby.” Peyton peers up at him as she locks her arms around his waist.

One hand comes up to palm her cheek, leaving Luca to take his time trailing his eyes all over her beautiful features, “So good to have you back.”

“Kiss me then.”

Luca snorts, “is this you asking for my consent?”

“Sure, uh huh.” She’s almost swooning in his eyes and Luca smirks as he leans closer to her lips.

“Eh, maybe later.”

“You asshole!” Peyton pushes at Luca’s back after he circled around her.

He’s laughing as he tosses a tatted arm over her shoulders, liking the feel of her being tucked right underneath his arm. She doesn’t miss how he’s holding onto her drink now, but she doesn’t mind it as long as she gets to keep him close.

They’re enjoying each other’s company again, almost as if the last three months didn’t happen but they both know it did.

“So…tell it to me straight. You’re back here with me now and I was left in the dark as soon as you were checked in.”

“I wanted to call rather than write you but I never had the words.” Peyton quietly says, “And I know you wouldn’t have minded if I just said a simple hello and we breathed on the phone for twenty minutes or whatever. I just didn’t want to make it worse for you.”

Luca hums, “Guess I can appreciate you taking my feelings into account but I can’t say I wouldn’t have rather talk to you than your mum, no disrespect.”

“Yes I know, she’s a lot.”

“Most families are.”

Peyton lays her head against Luca’s shoulder as they continue walking along the path, “Well you’re my family too and I’m sorry for handing over nothing but white noise to you while I was trying to get a better hold on this.”

It was extremely hard not knowing where exactly Peyton was and dealing with a mother like her’s.

“I don’t want you to apologize for doing what you thought was best for your mental health.”

“And I don’t want you to feel like I was shutting you out…you’re the last person I’d want to ever to do that to. I love you too much, to the point where I realized that I’d always want tomorrow’s with you.”

Luca felt his heart swell at that. It was always a good feeling to know that someone loves you just as much as you loved them. Luca was always known for his banter especially back when he worked at Noma years ago with both Carmy and Peyton but it seemed like Peyton’s energy meshed well with his.

He instantly thought Peyton was attractive and didn’t enjoy how she got on with Carmy equally at the start. Her approach to cooking wasn’t as serious as it was for him and Carmy but she was curious to learning. That’s something that was brought into their soon romantic relationship, they were open to go with the flow and it led them right to Luca putting a ring on it.

Peyton never had regrets about saying yes. She knew what she wanted with Luca and although the black parts of her brain gave her heavy blues, her heart still told her all that she needed to know.

Luca was patient, tender and he was still her man. They wanted forever and had to find balance even when it became shaky at times. They wanted to stick it out, be together and they lost touch once before when Peyton was the first to leave Denmark but somehow they always found their way back.

“I think that counts for a kiss, don’t you?” Luca whispers, stopping right in their path as he stares down at the dark umber skinned beauty.

Peyton almost pounces on her toes, “thank you! As if we haven’t deprived each other enough.”

“Gosh, so needy.” Luca teases, curling a finger underneath her chin to tilt her ready lips to meet his.

They both exhale as their lips touch after being away for quite some time. Her hand is resting against his clothed ribcage and their lips move together in sync as if there isn’t any limit to time. It’s when his tongue traces the outline of her full bottom lip that she pulls away, fanning herself.

“This man is trying to get me to buss it open in public on the beach, Chile. Relax yourself Hodgson, before we catch a charge.”

Luca’s nose crinkles at this as he chuckles, “fine…save it for the indoors, yeah?”

“Maybe even in the backyard?”

Luca raises his arched brows, actually considering it, “Nah, I don’t want to hear you yelling at me for messing up your edges in the grass. Mind you, that you’re probably allergic to.”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s messed up Peyton’s edges.

However Peyton always appreciated the concern.

“What about the garden room on the side of the flat?” Luca soon suggested, leaving Peyton to also think about this before she eyed Luca up and down.

It must have still been empty since she left, that area of the home completely slipped her mind when she settled back in, even after leaving Brimstone’s gate yesterday afternoon.

“I think you forget how big you are sometimes.”

A smirk appeared on Luca’s lips then and before he could even open his mouth, Peyton was slapping her hand right over his lips.

“Don’t finish that sentence, there’s kids around.” Peyton warned.

Luca frowned as he muffled, “you started it!”

Peyton smiles at a father who is holding the bars of a tricycle of his toddler, leading them down the path, excusing them as they make their way by. Once they’re out of ear shot, Peyton lowers her hand from Luca’s lips until he pulls the sun glasses from her combed out pin-curled hair to place over his own eyes.

“You’re very handsy today.”

Luca’s arm drapes back over Peyton’s shoulder, pulling her into his side, then he presses a kiss to her temple, “I don’t see you complaining.”

“You’re right.” She pulls her cocktail back to take a sip, “why would I ever?”

“Exactly,” Luca speaks, “…going forward, whatever you need from me, don’t be afraid to let me know please, Mrs. Hodgson.”

Peyton places a kiss to Luca’s pink neck, “thank you baby.”

“Don’t start singing that pasta and lobster song please,” Luca groans after picking up on her tone.

Peyton sends him a look of innocence, “what do you mean? Are we not having that back at the house when the three bears come over?”

“What’d do you mean?”

“There’s no way we’re not inviting Carmy, Marcus, and Sydney over for dinner.”

Luca shrugs, “I didn’t know they were comin’ ‘round anyways.”

“Luca!”

“What? What if I wanted you all to myself first?”

“And you will, they’ll only be here for a week.”

“…A week too long.” Luca mutters making Peyton laugh as she shakes her head, shoving his shoulder.

“Stop it, Luca Lamar Hodgson.”

“No.” Luca chuckles as he points at the beaming woman, “Now you know that is not my middle name, at all.”

What do you have against Lamar’s Luca?

“I’ve talked to Lulu on my way here.”

Luca feels his eye twitch at the mention of his gossiping little sister, Luella. He of course loved her dearly but she could be a brat sometimes and when he misses her call, Peyton was next in line for her dramatics.

“The elevator doesn’t always go upstairs with that one. Especially with whatever she’s gone and said to you.”

“You are on a roll today,” Peyton laughed with her head thrown back, “and you’re not about to do my good sis like that either.”

“She’s my sister first and I know she didn’t say my middle name was that.”

“You don’t know our conversations.”

“Thank heavens for that.”

Peyton paused as she untangled herself from Luca who lifted up her shades to peer at her in question. She held her arms out as she says, “there’s space and opportunity if you wanna fight.”

Luca scans Peyton up and down, taking his time as he did and scoffs, “You don’t scare me, babe. I’ll have you over my shoulder like flour in seconds.”

Peyton cracks her neck and motions her hand, “come on then. Remind me, which one of us was the athlete here?”

Yeah Peyton was deeply invested in tennis once upon a time and originally that’s what Luca thought she wanted to make a profession. She still participated down at the court during the weekends and man was she fast along with those long arms that provided powerful swings. Luca couldn’t see her on the court when it came to tennis, he almost pulled a damn hamstring but he wouldn’t tell any of his mates that.

As for football and cycling…that was a different story.

“That was then and what year are we in now?” He tapped his apple-watch.

Peyton cupped her ear, “Do I hear shade?”

Luca looks around at the sky, “doesn’t appear to be partly cloudy at all. It’s actually very sunny.”

Peyton let out a whole karate sound and tried to strike one, which was humorous but Luca was swift as he easily gripped her thighs and lugged her right up onto his shoulder, holding her in place.

“I told you.” Luca said after awhile, causally walking down the path while Peyton attempted to wiggle around, “let me know when you’re done. I’m just enjoying the view.”

Peyton huffed, “now what if you made me drop my cocktail?”

“I’ve got actual water back in the car, love.”

Peyton mocked Luca who laughed and patted her backside, carrying on in Copenhagen’s sun.

Up in their bedroom, Peyton is lounging on the bed, phone raised up in the air browsing food TikTok’s until she hears Luca letting out a string of curses that sound heavy in his accent from their en suite bathroom.

“Luca, you good?” Peyton calls out to the man, breaking her eyes away from her screen.

“Y-Yup!”

That didn’t sound convincing at all.

So Peyton’s on her feet now, phone tossed to the side of her as she enters the bathroom. She gets a nice view of reddened skin that’s leading from Luca’s neck and down the upper part of his back.

“Ouch.” Peyton remarks, “I did not notice this earlier. I would have sprayed your ass down with my own sunscreen.”

Luca pinched at his skin and flinches a bit, “summer’s aren’t nearly as hot here. I don’t understand why I look like bloody salmon.”

Peyton covers her giggle, knowing why as she stands beside him, after eyeing the change in his skin tone. “I got you, don’t worry.”

There was no doubt in his mind.

Mintues later, Peyton’s retrieved the goo that she had mashed in the container, stored in the back of the fridge, knowing Luca wouldn’t have went searching through there since he tended to eat out at restaurants or order out majority of the time. He had a sweet tooth so she had to be the one to remind him to actually eat full meals instead of desserts from time to time. Which means they’ll have to go grocery shopping at some point, something Luca truly loathes. unbeknownst to him, his mother all the way out in London had grocery deliveries sent to his home, realizing that he didn’t keep his fridge stocked much after Peyton went back to the states.

Peyton first went off to California to visit her father and grandmother in search of different scenery, taking a break from the growing stress but that stress turned into something else. Luca looked back and saw the signs as they laid on the floor together in the dark, with her talking about the end but figured it was just conversation back then. It wasn’t until she went to Chicago to spend time with her controlling mother that she actually tried and it wasn’t just thoughts. Unperceived to Luca and that’s when Luca’s own mother came to be with her son during this difficult time, then he finally got the call that Peyton was being admitted, just to later learn Peyton’s mother called Luca’s first.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t a little irked that people were going behind his back when it came to Peyton. He should have been there…but he knew he couldn’t blame himself. He thought he was just sending his wife to be off for a simple get away…overall he was happy that she was still here fighting day by day.

He knows it’ll be tough but not everyday will be full of clouds.

“i’m not happy you’re sunburnt, but i am enjoying getting to be the one helping you put aloe vera on.” Peyton says as she’s on Luca’s back, knee’s on either side of him, lathering his back in the cold gel.

Her eyes observe the doodles of ink that decorated his arms and smiles at the sunflower on his shoulder, which he dedicated to her.

Luca exhales at the temperature as he continues resting his cheek against his arm, ready to doze off, “Why’s that?”

“I enjoy taking care of you too, duh.”

“I think you like to touch my body, Mariah Carey.”

“That tooooo-ooh,” she tries to belt out a whistle tone that sounds like a rooster being strangled—“but I also love you.”

“I love you lots too, even when you’re trying to make my eardrums bleed…but don’t ever forget that, yeah?” Luca says over his shoulder as he tries to ignore the sting in his skin but knowing that the comfort is coming from Peyton’s hands, he’ll survive.

Peyton leans forward again to place a kiss to the back of Luca’s head, “I won’t.”

Once enough of Luca’s back in covered in aloe, Peyton leaves to wash her hands and place the gel back into the fridge downstairs. When she comes back into the bedroom, Luca is still in the same position she left him in. Usually her side of the bed is closest to the door, which is something they deeply debated over, she climbs over him to tuck herself underneath his folded arm.

His lips press into her clothed shoulder, his t-shirt, before resting his nose against it later, breathing in her homey scent with his eyes closed. One hand goes to run through his sun lightened hair, further soothing him to sleep as she’s back on her phone now, letting him rest.

No more cold sides of the bed because Peyton was home with her warmth and Luca couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

And the next day after that.

And so on and so forth.

❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚

Go back and read my current flop summer prompt here.

Continue along with my anthology summer prompts here.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear season two #the bear season 2 #the bear s2 #the bear luca #Luca the bear #will poulter #luca the bear x reader #Luca the bear x black! reader #carmy berzatto #sydney amadu #marcus the bear #summer prompts #queued

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lady-severus-snape · 7 months ago

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Random headcanon scene bullet points in my mind......

🌠 Severus is your bf, your wizarding bf. It's stupid cheap for him to take a portkey (international or not) to visit you compared to your muggle money cost and absolutely REFUSES to let you spend it on traveling to him. You basically have to conspire with Minerva to pop up as a surprise. Usually when he in school.

🌠 you both met one day when walking down the street in downtown Chicago (the potion guild was being held there that summer) and you both crash into each other when a bicyclist pushed you and your merch boxes from the bar you worked out into him. After a million apologies and hauling him up (he was shocked at your strength). You invited him into the bar for a drink on the house to make up for it.

🌠 after wards he kept coming by, and only when you were on shift. His demeanor drawed you in. Despite the age (45 to your 30) you began to fall for him. He had an air of danger, his prickly snarky comments had you in stitches. He was equally drawn to you. He had never met someone who tongue lashed others almost as well as he did. Your banter was something he enjoyed.

🌠 you give give him your number, though he did sat that he did not own a celly phone (cell phone you corrected gently)

🌠 he breaks down and gets one, because summer was almost over and thinking about not being able to talk to you made him squirrelly. You teach him the basics on how to work the call function, texting, and video chatting.

🌠 When you saw his dark mark by accident (it had been a particularly hot and humid day, even with A/C so he had ditched frock coat and rolled up his sleeves), Severus just about came undone at the seams, his magic flaring and exploding the sound system. You hugged him into submission and softly cooed at him until he had calmed down enough to explain what he could. He kissed you hard and deep after you told him that the choices he made were based on the tools available to him at the time.

🌠 He asks you to be his woman, you accept and little by little insert yourself into his life, improving his quality of self and acceptance without judgment and patience. Besides you adored his goth/victorian/wizard look.

🌠 "Sev, why not tie your hair back? I like your silver streak". He starts stealing your hair ties and wears his hair like a man bun. "Where did you get that waist coat? It looks wonderful on you" wears more styles like it. "Baby, we can always get a cover up of the cult tattoo you have. Or I can show you the best skin foundation that can hide it. It's water proof and can only be removed with the formulated alcohol solution." Suddenly starts asking questions on muggle tattoos and artists as well as the foundation you suggested.

🌠 one day while talking to you via video chat, he hisses and grabs his forearm. He bids you goodbye. Sick with worry you keep your phone on hand and call off from work. He appeared in the middle of your kitchen bruised, bloodied, and battered,.completely messed up. You barely got his dead weight to the bathroom where you cleaned him up and treated his wounds to the best of your ability. You hadn't told him, but you started taking CNA courses incase. Plus work at the bar was getting old and tiresome (you had been attacked by patron who wouldn't take no for an answer or accept you had a man already)

🌠severus recovering and breaks down crying telling you EVERYTHING. You hold his hand and pet his cheek, listening and raging internally at his suffering. Tell him to bring the boys (Potter and Malfoy) there, you will take them in under your wing and hide the two . His love for you grows.

🌠 He begrudgingly accepts being passenger princess because he does not know how to drive a muggle car and you know the streets better than he does. He ends up learning that your job takes you to the seediest parts of the city thus having you teach him because there was no way he was going to allow his woman to drive late at night to get home from your private home care case while he twiddled his thumbs at home.

🌠 he gets adorably flustered when your on the phone with your spanish speaking mother. He knows when you're gushing about him because of how animated you get and the glances you give him. He secretly LOVES how you say his name with a Mexican accent.

🌠 One time he comes to visit you at your bartending gig. He sat in the corner as he watched you turn on your sex appeal to draw customers in but sees how expertly you keep yourself from their touchy Feely hands. He absolutely fucks you stupid after your shift because he realized you were wearing one of button up shirts he was looking for back at hogwarts.

🌠 your mother always grew muicle (mexican honey suckle) so when he met your mother and saw the gold mine of FRESH muicle (its magical properties were the shit in potions dried, nevermind fresh) , Severus just about married you on the spot much to the amusement of your mother. She took to calling him mijo whenever she talked to him in her broken english. When he asked what that meant, his heart melted.

🌠 his favorite pet names from you: amorcito, corazoncito, guero, corazon de melon, flaco, bonbon. His super fav is bebé.

🌠 you and your mother absolutely exploit the fact he is 6ft7in and has gigantic hands to mix the masa for tamales and tortillas. Severus being moody at Hogwarts during the school year because he can't have good rice and beans the way you or your mother make. He calls her ma now. That had been an embarrassing time for him. It had slipped out when he had arrived to your house for winter break and found only her. He is now her mijo and no one was telling her any different.

🌠 He discovered he enjoyed mexican hot chocolate, atole, menudo, pozole. Though his favorite was red mole. Sometimes when he goes back to work, your mother and you prepare some and freeze it and place it in a box that Minerva gave you for Xmas a last year. It will shrink at the tap of your hand and preserves whatever is inside. So when Severus finds it after unpacking in his quarters he whoops for joy and happily eats when he has had a dog shit kind of day.

🌠 Severus snapping at the entire staff because Albus Fucking Dumbledore is telling him to give up his attachment to you. Ends up cussing their asses out in Spanish AND English. He channeled your ghetto side apparently.

🌠 Harry and Draco calling your mother abuelita because it sounds better than gran/gram. Draco struggling to adjust to muggle living, unconditional love and Harry having an actual decent summer free of absuse and neglect. Abuelita's chocolate is the best, out ranks yours (the little shits ♥️)

🌠 Severus watching you beat the absolute dog shit out of Black during one of the few visits to him, because Black called him Snivellus while he ate the empanadas Ma sent with you. Black hides everytime he hears your voice.

#angysoftboi #pro severus #severus snape #batboi #severus snape headcanons #severitus

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dopescissorscashwagon · 5 months ago

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The roar arrives this week. The US Navy Blue Angels will be the stars the show at the Chicago Air & Water Show. It's being held a week earlier this year.

Click on photo

📸 by @barrybutler9

#@barrybutler9 #Chicago #Illinois #Chicago Air & Water Show #USA #US Navy Blue Angels #Photography

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ijustwanttoreadfanfiction · 2 years ago

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Candyland

Rockstar! (ish) Eddie Munson x AFAB! Bar Dancer Reader

Cherry Pie is always the inspiration for some absolute filth. Reader works at a Coyote Ugly type bar - you'll find out, it's hard for me to describe this one. Because I suck.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, suggestive content with the dancing?

The R-Bar, Chicago - 1991

Eddie is sweating his nutsack off, fingers red raw from shredding for almost two hours, voice sore and crackling. The mediocre applause that follows him off the small stage with the rest of the band hardly seems worth the pain. He snags a water bottle from a beat up trestle table, chugging it in relief as their manager Lambshank approaches; so named because he got shanked in prison with a lamb bone, true story.

“That was a killer set guys, great work, the crowd loved you!” He hails with so much bravado it verges on sarcasm.

“Yeah, all fourteen of them.” Eddie deadpans.

“I counted seventeen.” Jeff wryly supplies with a rough croak, finishing off his own bottle of water.

“Alright, it wasn’t the biggest crowd, granted, but everyone has to start somewhere.” Lambshank reasons.

“Yeah, but we started this group eleven years ago, Shank.” Eddie huffs, he knew the rockstar dream wouldn’t be an easy one to achieve but he thought after graduating and being able to pour all his time and what little money he had into the band they’d be playing bigger and better venues by now.

He was fed up, every place was like The Hideout back home, filled with drunks, and sticky floors. They did have a couple of genuine fans, who they appreciated even if they were slightly over-zealous in their affections; Gareth had never quite been the same since Luann, the forty-seven year old divorcee, threw her FF bra directly at his face mid-show.

“You fellas need a fun night out, get yourselves pumped up again and I know just the place.” Lambshank says bracingly, working his fists back and forth like a Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robot. Eddie scrubs at his tired sweaty face, pushing his hair out of his eyes, wanting nothing more than to shower and go to bed, god he was getting old.

“Shank I don’t need a night out, I need to get some sleep.”

“Eddie, I promise you, you’ll enjoy it - and the first round of drinks are on me.” Shank offers teasingly.

_______________________________________________

“Candyland?” Gareth asks, reading the pink neon sign aloud as they all stand outside a rather nondescript looking building, the loud heavy bass thumping of music the only indicator there might be something going on inside.

“Candyland.” Lambshank affirms with a grin, gesturing towards the heavy door in front of them, a burly and surly looking doorman giving Lambshank a curt nod letting the group in.

It’s a cacophony of noise, and flashing lights, the place is packed to the rafters, the smell of stale beer and sweat heavy in the air. But it’s the movement from the bar area that catches Eddie’s eye, a group of women all around his age in various states of undress, dancing and grinding along to No Sleep Till Brooklyn - Beastie Boys, they also appear to be serving drinks.

“Welcome to Candyland boys!” Lambshank laughs, patting Eddie heavily on the back.

It’s certainly a show, the girls are laughing and screaming things out, men and women on the floor crowded up to the raised surface cheering loudly, throwing money, and generally having the time of their lives.

The song finishes up, and the bar girls all jump down to be replaced by an older looking blonde woman with a microphone in her hand.

“Candyland, how are we doing tonight?!” She yells, to a deafening cheer. “C’mon I know you can do better than that, I said HOW ARE WE DOING TONIGHT?” She corrals with a fist to the air.

The bar shouts back in unison, even Eddie finds himself wanting to join in.

“That’s what I like to hear.” She laughs throatily. “Now I want you to give it up, and by that I mean your hard earned dollars, for our girl JETT!”

I Love Rock ‘N Roll - Joan Jett starts up, along with a raucous cheer from the crowd as girl jumps up onto the bar in black PVC booty shorts, a ripped white crop top, black bra visible underneath and black high-top converse, her back is to everyone as she claps her hands and stamps along to the beat, Eddie tears his eyes away trying to work out the best route to the bar in order to actually get a drink when Gareth starts tugging hard on his arm.

“Jeez man what?” Eddie huffs in irritation, Gareth points dumbly back towards the bar, mouth hanging open, Eddie looks again and feels his own jaw drop.

“Holy shit it’s -” Jeff breathes, the girl is finally facing the crowd, throwing her body back and forth, a huge smile plastered across her pretty face.

“Y/n -” Eddie finishes his sentence with a gulp.

Eddie hadn’t seen you since graduation, but it was definitely you, despite your get up and apparent new found sense of confidence there was no mistaking your face. You had been something of a shrinking violet at High School, choosing to hang out with Eddie and the gang as they didn’t mind that you were painfully shy and preferred books to conversation, and whilst you had never been a fully fledged member of Hellfire you sometimes took part in the occasional campaign if they were short and Eddie coaxed you enough.

It didn’t seem you needed to be coaxed into doing anything anymore though as you gyrated on the platform, hooking your leg and arm around a pole between the bar top and ceiling, spinning about seductively. You headbang slightly, before dropping low to grab a handful of dollars from a howling man, one of the girls behind the bar passes you up a bottle of vodka and you expertly pour a shot into the man’s open mouth. As the song fades out, some of the other girls jump back up to join you, the vodka bottle in your hand being swapped for the microphone.

“Good evening Candyland.” You purr slightly out of breath, laughing loudly at the tumultuous response. “Life is sweet, but you know what? It could be a little sweeter, so how about we pour a little sugar on you?” You ask suggestively, throwing your arms up as Pour Some Sugar On Me - Def Leppard rings out.

Eddie doesn’t know where to look, well he knows exactly where he wants to look but he doesn’t know if he should. You’re back to back with one of the other girls, both winding down to your knees, you crawl across the bar and Eddie finds himself standing tiptoes to follow your progress. You lay on your back, arching upwards, so your chest is on display, while a redhead girl in Daisy dukes wets your body with the seltzer tap. You screech wildly, shaking your head allowing the liquid to splash the front row, Eddie thinks he might pass out as the blood thunders down from his brain to his cock.

You move back up into a kneel, taking the tap and spraying it into the raucous crowd, whilst necking a beer you’ve taken off of someone. You and the rest of the girls line up, all bending sideways so you’re grabbing the ass of the other, spanking in time to the music, before shaking your legs so the muscles bounce and jiggle.

“This is insane.” Gareth says weakly next to Eddie, and he has to agree. You straighten up, spinning around the pole once again until you’re head on staring at Eddie and the group, a wide beaming smile of recognition breaking across your face. You seem to be dancing with even more enthusiasm now you’ve clocked your old school friends, hands running over your own form, as you strut up and down the platform. The redhead from before has a bottle of whiskey in her hand which she pours on her chest with a subtle nod to you, you lean in and lick the gold liquid from her skin, to rapturous hoots and hollers, tracing your tongue up her neck until you meet her mouth; Eddie notices more dollar bills clutched in your hands as you pull away.

The song comes to an end, and you instantly jump down into the crowd, pushing patrons out of your way, practically racing towards the band.

“OH MY GOD, HI!” You shout excitedly, barrelling straight into Eddie first, he barely has time to snap out of his funk and embrace you back before you're pulling away to address the others. You’re flushed with exertion, but to him you’ve never looked prettier.

“Gareth, Jeff!” You hail, bringing each of them in for their own hug, Eddie having to fight down a sudden surge of jealousy.

“Y/n! What the hell man?!” Gareth greets you with a laugh, gesturing to the hive of activity still taking place on the bar behind you.

“Girl’s gotta make a living, ya know.” You tease, punching him lightly in the arm. “It’s my Aunt’s place, she’s the blonde one up there.” You point to the older woman who revved up the crowd earlier, she’s currently pouring a row of shots, but all the while keeping an eye on her girls, including you.

“What are you guys doing here?” You ask casually, like you’re not standing in front of them scantily clad, and the source of their awkward crotch covered stances.

“We’re on tour.” Jeff supplies.

“Holy shit - that’s so cool, where are you playing?” Eddie wants to answer you, but your devastating smile is making his brain short circuit.

“They played the R-Bar tonight. Lambshank, manager extraordinaire and long time patron of Candyland.” Lambshank butts in, offering his hand in greeting, you shake it and Eddie sees a slight wariness enter your expression.

“The R-Bar huh? I’d thought with how good you guys were in High School, you’d be playing bigger venues than that.” You don't say it maliciously, you seem genuinely concerned, and it sparks Eddie's brain and mouth back to life.

“We’ve been trying to but it’s not been going so well.” Eddie says quietly, and you nod in understanding.

“Where are you guys playing next?” You ask with interest.

“We’re at the R-Bar again tomorrow night.” Gareth says, unable to keep the dismay out of his voice.

“Ok, cool, leave it with me. Drinks on the house by the way, just go see my aunt. Catch up properly at close?” You ask quickly, already backing up towards the bar, slipping under the gap and whispering in your aunt's ear as you service the clamouring groups.

Eddie's gaze is firmly fixed on your retreating form, he always had a soft spot for you through school, ok maybe crush was more accurate, although he'd play it off as a brotherly protective vibe when people had asked but what he was feeling now was far from brotherly.

"I'll get us some beers." He says not caring if the others are listening, purposely ignoring Lambshank's request for a double JD, as he makes his way through the thronging horde, with a little elbowing he eventually gets to the front.

“What can I get you handsome?” Your aunt asks him, leaning across the bar.

“Uh - four Coors Dry please.” He responds absentmindedly watching the way you’re shaking a drink at the other end of the bar, clearly flirting with every customer and doing a damn good judging by your overflowing tip jar.

“Would you prefer for my niece to serve you?” Your aunt says with a wry smile.

“Oh - uh - no sorry, just haven't seen her in a while.” Eddie stammers, slipping across a $20 bill.

“You’re Eddie right?” He nods, she smiles and it’s not too dissimilar to your own. “I'm Paula. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. She never used to shut up about you when she was a teenager, Eddie this, Eddie that.” She laughs, pouring the beers.

“She liked me?” Eddie asks in shock, the thought makes his head spin.

“I don’t think you need to put it in the past tense hunny.” Paula grins, sliding his $20 back across the bar. “You break her heart, I’ll get Doug the Doorman to break your fingers.”

Before Eddie can respond, your voice cuts across the noise once more, you’re up on the bar again, microphone in hand.

“Alright Candylanders, it’s come to our attention that we have some very, very special guests here with us tonight -” The seductive lilt in your tone is back, commanding the attention of everyone in the room, but none more so than Eddie. “- all the way from my hometown of Hawkins, Indiana, they are the next generation of rockstars, the one, the only CORRODED COFFIN!” You bellow pointing towards where Gareth, Jeff and Lambshank are still standing.

“They’re the real deal, and they’re playing at the R-Bar tomorrow, I know - I know it's a fucking shithole." You argue back to the murmured complaints. "But here's the deal, you all go and I will reveal my very secret, very intimate tattoo at the end of their show -” You teasingly pull at the waistline of your booty shorts, before stroking your hand down over your covered mound, the crowd going wild. “- Alright you bunch of horn dogs, save it for tomorrow, now let’s get this fucking party started!” You scream, throwing the microphone down to Paula, who gives you a huge wink.

Cherry Pie - Warrant blares out of the speakers, the girls clambering up to join you once more, pitchers of water in their hands.

“ANYONE ELSE FEELING WET?” Paula shouts into the mic, as you and the rest of the girls pour the pitchers over yourselves, Eddie watches completely enthralled as the water cascades over your chest and down your legs, barely noticing how Gareth and Jeff have joined him.

You stomp over towards them, a huge smile on your face again, dropping into an impressive front split, water droplets glistening over your flushed skin.

“Hey Eddie, you want a blowjob?” You ask loudly over the music.

“Do I want a what?!” Eddie asks incredulously, half laughing, half choking on his beer.

You jump down, grabbing a shot glass, and two bottles of liquor, topping it off with some whipped cream.

“A blow job.” You present to him with a devious smirk.

Eddie throws his head back in a proper laugh, the kind of laugh you used to savour hearing through school, he moves to take the shot but you slap his hand anyway.

“Oh that’s not for you big boy, it’s for me. You need to sit right here.” You say patting the bar top, Eddie looks at you warily but hoists himself up regardless with a smile, you wink and then move to the other end of the bar, whispering something to Paula as you pass.

“Ohhhhh! Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like Jett is about to give some lucky guy a blowjob!” Paula shouts through the mic, stopping mid pour to ring a bell, Eddie’s ears hurt from the wolf whistles and stamping of feet.

Two girls, the redhead and a brunette, help get him in the correct position, legs spread with the shot in between, you get lifted onto the bar by Doug blowing a kiss to him and the gathered crowd. Sinking to your knees you stalk towards him in a slow crawl, he would never be able to listen to Smooth up in ya in the same way ever again. When you reach him, you lean in close to his ear so only he can hear you, his arm automatically coming up to steady you as you hover.

“When I touch your knee, put your hand on the back of my head, and when I touch it again let go.”

You move back, grinning from ear to ear, running your hands over his chest, down and down, fingers brushing his thighs, until you reach his knees; Eddie lifts a shaking a hand to run through your hair at the crown of your head, you wink again before arching low, ass in the air, he can see your lips wrap around the glass; he knows you must notice his raging hard on.

“SHOT, SHOT, SHOT!” The bar screams and Eddie suddenly remembers there are a hundred people watching your antics. Once you have the drink secure, you run your hands back up his legs, tapping his knee once, he lets his hand drop from your head albeit reluctantly. You throw your whole body back, chest jutting out, swallowing the shot to ear splitting cheers and clapping, letting a carefully choreographed bit of liquid spill from the side of your mouth, using your thumb to seductively chase it back to your mouth with a firm suck.

You press a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips, before standing abruptly, taking a bow.

“Can I get one of those? Please?” Gareth asks, voice strained.

_______________________________________________

The rest of the night passes in a blur of girls dancing, pounding music and alcohol but Eddie only has eyes for you. Even when Gareth gets his ‘blowjob’ from the redhead, Cherry, you’re still his focus, the way you move, how openly you laugh with the girls sharing private jokes, the way you handle yourself; fearless and so sexy.

The bar finally closes at 2am, it’s oddly quiet now the sound system is off, only the chink of glasses being collected and general chit-shit fills the air. Lambshank is chewing Paula’s ear off about management opportunities, which she seems to be responding to with good humour. Gareth is following Cherry about like a lost puppy, helping her with clearing tables, and Jeff is asleep in one of the booths, a cocktail umbrella tucked behind his ear.

You’re wiping down the bar top, a shy smile on your face, the one Eddie remembered from school, it seems the shrinking violet is still there once the music is off.

“So Eddie Munson the rockstar huh?” You say, voice a little croaky from a night of shouting and singing.

“I wouldn’t say rockstar.” Eddie murmurs, sipping at his drink.

“Is the band your only job?” You ask pointedly, spraying at a stubborn sticky spot.

“Yeah.” Eddie says, rubbing at his neck feeling self conscious.

“Well then, you’re a rockstar.” You grin softly.

“Alright ladies, you can all head home, Mr Shank here is going to help me finish up.” Paula calls, meeting your raised eyebrows with a sheepish shrug of her shoulders.

Eddie watches as Gareth attempts to rouse Jeff from his deep drunken stupor, wondering if he can manage to get him back to the hotel by himself, not quite ready to leave your side, evidently you are thinking along the same lines as you place a delicate hand on his arm.

“Shall we help get the guys back to your hotel?” You suggest gently, trying not to laugh as Jeff sinks lower into the seat trying to pull Gareth in for a spooning.

“You want to come back with me?” Eddie asks, surprised, not believing his luck.

“Yes, if that’s ok.” You say blushing profusely. “Unless you don’t want me to.” You add quickly feeling unsure of yourself.

“No! - I uh, I mean I would love for you to come back with me.” Eddie stammers, his face burning likely matching the same reddened shade as your own.

“Ok, just lemme go get changed.” You smile breathlessly.

The hotel isn’t far from the bar, and the thirty minute walk allows you and Eddie to catch up some more, sharing lingering looks and touches where you can, in between half carrying, half dragging Jeff. Gareth being absolutely no help, floating along behind slowly, waxing lyrical about how he is in love with Cherry.

“Should I tell him she’s a lesbian?” You whisper to Eddie, stifling a giggle.

“Let him have his moment whilst he’s still hammered.” Eddie laughs. “I’ll break it to him in the morning, assuming he remembers.”

Your head is swimming with all kinds of Eddie related thoughts as you try your best to concentrate on the task at hand, helping Gareth into bed, he passes out as soon as his face hits the mattress in the double room. Eddie situates a now entirely unconscious Jeff with some difficulty, before making sure they both have glasses of water and Tylenol on the bedside table ready for their no doubt horrendous hangovers.

You’re bubbling with nerves as he closes the door, but they abruptly disappear when he takes your hand, leading you down the corridor to his own room. It's small and basic but at least it’s clean.

“So - uh do you want a drink?” Eddie asks, rooting about in a plastic bag on the side. “I have slightly warm Coke or slightly warm Mountain Dew.”

“Such variety! I’ll take a slightly warm Mountain Dew please.” You laugh, perching on the end of his bed, rubbing your hands over your leggings.

“For Madame.” He passes you a can with a silly little French accent, sitting next to you with a can of Coke. “Gotta say it was one hell of a show you put on tonight sweetheart.”

You’re blushing again, shaking your head in embarrassed disagreement.

“It’s nothing special, just silly little dances and tricks, but it pays the bills, and it helps Paula out.” You say dismissively.

“I think it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Eddie mutters, his leg jiggling with nerves or pent up energy, you couldn’t tell.

“C’mon Eddie, it wasn’t that good.” You mumble, thinking if your cheeks got any warmer the sprinkler system would go off.

“When you did that thing with the shot, I nearly came in my pants.” He says honestly, laughing at his own admission, it sparks something within you, the same feeling of fearlessness you experience when you’re up on the bar. You stand up, taking his drink from his hand and placing it on the windowsill with yours, kicking off your shoes and pulling down your leggings so you’re left in your panties and pink Candyland sweater.

“It would be a waste if you came in your pants Eddie, when my mouth is right here.” You whisper, sinking to your knees in front of him, praying you hadn’t misread the signals.

Eddie doesn’t give you long to worry, grabbing your face in his hands, leaning down to kiss you hard, tongue stroking into your mouth making you moan softly.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe this is happening.” Eddie murmurs against your lips as you unbuckle his belt, lifting his hips to help you tug his pants and boxers down. His cock slaps against his belly, long and hard, making your mouth water, you wrap your lips around him eagerly, tongue flat against the shaft as you bob up and down.

“Oh - f-fuck.” Eddie groans, hands back in your hair just like at the bar, gently guiding your movements. The room is filled with the sounds of your choking and sucking, the wet slide of your mouth over his throbbing dick, and Eddie’s whimpering gasps.

“Yes! Oh baby, your mouth feels - shit - so fucking good. Used to dream about you - fuck - used to dream about you doing t-this.” He moans, hips pistoning up to meet your open throat as you move quicker. “Can I - ah! Can I fuck you? Please sweetheart?” He begs, and it sends a surge or arousal through you.

You pull off him with a broken gasp, lips swollen and wet.

“Yes please.” You say sweetly, slightly out of breath.

Eddie’s hands are everywhere as he hauls you up from the floor, peeling your panties down, fingers tracing through your wetness whilst he kisses you deeply again.

“Condom - where the fuck did I put the fucking condoms?!” He hisses, stretching back down to retrieve his pants, you laugh peppering his neck with licks and nips.

You’re practically dripping, hovering over his cock, waiting with baited breath as he rolls the condom on, angling the hard tip to your slick opening. Both of you letting out loud moans as you sink down inch by inch, walls hugging him tightly, spasming with the stretch.

“Eddie - oh my god!” You whimper, nails biting into his shoulder, rocking against each other, his balls hitting your ass.

“Yesss, you feel like fucking heaven.” Eddie growls, using his strength to hammer up into you, both knowing the other wasn’t going to last long, the entire evening serving as foreplay. You bring your fingers down to rub roughly at your clit, whining into his mouth through messy kisses, each thrust of his cock bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Eddie, babe, I’m gonna cum.” You gasp, pussy tightening almost to the point of pain, vision going blurry as you climax hard.

“Oh god - baby! Fuck -” Eddie chokes out, arms holding you in a bruising grasp, head against your neck as he jerks his hips at a brutal pace, hurtling into his own release with a loud cry.

Eddie continues to pump gently into you, drawing out your orgasms, lazy kisses, and stroking touches bringing you back down.

“Goddamn, why didn’t we do this years ago?” He asks breathlessly, as you laugh with exhilaration, he lays back on the bed pulling you with him, thundering heartbeats steadily slowing.

“Y/n?” Eddie asks quietly after a time, fingers stroking up and down your thighs.

“Mmm?” You murmur sleepily.

“I know I was a little distracted back there, but - uh - I didn’t see any kind of tattoo.”

You laugh again, pushing off the bed, rummaging through your bag, throwing a small packet at Eddie.

“Candy cigarettes?” He queries in confusion.

“Yep, with a free Batman rub-on tattoo.” You grin, jumping back onto the bed straddling him once more, shoving one of the candy sticks into your mouth.

“Those are a filthy habit, sweetheart.” Eddie teases grinning widely up at you.

“Care to do the honours?” You smirk devilishly, waving the temporary tattoo at him.

_______________________________________________

#eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson 18+#strangers things eddie munson #reader insert #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson fanfic

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onionjulius · 8 months ago

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Alright so, ER rewatch is happening, but I'm swamped with work and so I'll have to wait for episode posts. For now, an initial inventory of my remembrance of the main characters/my opinion of them:

Love: Carol Hathaway, Mark Greene, Susan Lewis, Kerry Weaver, Abby Lockhart, Luka Kovač

Really like: John Carter, Doug Ross, Peter Benton, Elizabeth Corday, Lucy Knight, Jing-Mei Chen, Greg Pratt

Like: Jeanie Boulet*, Cleo Finch, Michael Gallant

Unlikeable but not devoid of complexity: Robert Romano, Dave Malucci

I remember your existence: Neela Rasgotra, Anna Del Amico

I don't remember your existence: Sam Taggert, Ray Barnett, Archie Morris, Tony Gates, Simon Brenner, Cate Banfield

*Jeanie's on the cusp between Like and Really like.

I'll be curious to see if my opinions change much watching this show 15-30 years after it initially aired. No doubt there will be cringe "Oh wow that aged poorly" moments, but hopefully also some that hold up well. It'll also be interesting to watch a pre-Prestige TV critical hit post-Prestige TV (and yeah, nostalgic, I'm getting quite nostalgic in my old age). And I'm wondering how my impressions of the characters will hold up in a close watch; I think I'm much more analytical now, and I'm pretty sure my opinions reflect the characters at their best without necessarily accounting for them at their worst. Although maybe that's not a bad thing as long as it's consistent.

More character recollections, some quite spoilery:

Mark's death slew me. It was so protracted too, he was suffering so much and his family was fraying at the seams and I just remember him trying so hard to handle things the best he could with that understated irony of his and just feeling so terribly for him. There was that thing with the guy in the elevator that he just let die, I don't remember what became of that ...

I love so much that Mark is really just Some Guy trying to do his job well while having normal Some Guy things like a wife and kids and basketball breaks. He's smart, decisive, dedicated, compassionate, a good teacher, and truly a deserving leader.

I know that Jeanie had at least one great story, which of course is the HIV story. I'm actually struggling to recall much before that, so that'll be fun.

I just ... I remember having such complex reactions to Kerry, and all these years later that has registered in my memory as love. I love Kerry, warts and all. You could feel so bad for her while simultaneously hate what she was saying or doing, and I do think she learned things over time. She was an outsider, a party pooper, ambitious and career-driven, a disabled lesbian, oil to Doug Ross' water. She was not easy to love, and so I loved her. Also, she was ER Mom. Love you, Mom!

I also loved Kim/Kerry. They felt so real and human and not simply an "issues" story. I find myself not recalling much of her relationship afterward, so looking forward to seeing if it is a worthy follow-up.

I loved Mark/Susan. They were such easy friends, so natural and believable together, so bright and breezy and (mostly) supportive and wonderful. I think they would have made a fine endgame, it was so easy to want good things for each of them, and what an unforgettable, lovely and bittersweet moment when she left Chicago on that train.

For all that though, I liked Mark with Elizabeth. It's true there wasn't the same will-they-won't they (and I remember feeling like her thing with Peter ended rather abruptly) but their domesticity was very sweet and she was a kick-ass character, strong and funny.

Romano was ... Problematic ... but his bond of some sort with Elizabeth was probably the best thing about his character.

I remember feeling that Peter was shafted, but that said he did last 8 years and I remember some good stories with his mother and sister, work vs parenthood, the custody battle, and of course (of course) his evolving dynamic with Carter.

Seriously though. Benton/Carter.

And on the topic of BroTPs: Mark/Doug!

There's something about the two most ambitious characters being Peter, a black man, and Kerry, a woman, that I kinda love.

Upon reflection, it seems to me that at least some of my affinity for Susan and Abby have to do with their family stories--particularly, having to deal with flawed family members, walking the line between loving and enabling, battling the desire to hope because of the need to protect against disappointment. It's ... interesting? ... because I don't have any deadbeat family members or family members who refuse to take responsibility for their illnesses, but something about how they use sarcasm to deal with life resonates with me, even though Susan in my head was a sunny character while Abby was a little black raincloud.

I loved Abby. Abby was a hot mess, a human disaster, a trashfire. Abby was strong, but also a coward. Abby was full of contradictions, Abby mistook self-abnegation for independence, Abby was only happy when it rained. Abby was hard to love, and so I loved her.

There was something about Abby/Luka that I found compulsively watchable. Something probably having to do with being really messed up and dysfunctional and full of maladaptive habits, but nevertheless wanting love like any other human being. There was a brooding intensity and understatedness to them that I remember just eating up. I was an undercover emo kid, what can I say.

That said, there was a phase in which he was truly insufferable (which I know was them taking a page out of the Doug Ross book ... but he isn't Doug Ross, even though he was brought on as a direct replacement). I'm curious if, on my rewatch, it will feel like an organic arc given how sweet, patient, gentlemanly and sensitive I recall him being at the start. Oh tragic little meow meow.

The final scene between Carol and Luka is so etched in my brain. "Because I'm still in love with him. I've been in love with him since I was 23 years old. He's everything to me. I feel complete when I'm with him and I feel empty when we're apart. He's the father of my children, and he's my soulmate." Yes, Doug was a manbaby and yes I was so hurt on Carol's behalf that he left her for Seattle, but really Doug/Carol were the Truth. You bought their connection so thoroughly and George Clooney's chemistry with Juliana Margulies was critical to that.

I remember thinking that Peter/Cleo's chemistry was nothing in particular to write home about (you know, not bad, but not special) ... but hell if they weren't beautiful together. Michael Michelle was just so stunning.

I really thought that they were heading for a lot of yummy Carter-denying-his-feelings-for-med-student-Lucy angst, which I was so there for. But I can't deny that what ended up happening (you know ...) was unforgettable television.

On that note, Carter was never the same after That. There's such a sad lost innocence about his character, given how earnest and caring and even hapless he was at the start. That's not necessarily a bad direction to go, narratively speaking, but one would hope for some eventual hard-won optimism for him all the same.

And yeah, at some point ER became darker and soapier, but I honestly have good memories of a few of those years, before becoming bored.

Like, another scene seared into my brain is Maggie Wyczenski turning on a dime and going postal right in the middle of the ER, screaming "I'm leaving! I'm leaving! I'm leaving! Iiii'm leaving!" and "You're my daughter you bitch!". God did Sally Field earn that Emmy or did she earn that Emmy. I wouldn't want to have missed out on that story, for all that it was such a downer.

Apparently Sam, Ray, Archie, and Tony came on more or less when Neela did, but she's the only one I remember. How'd that happen? Though I can't say I remember her stories, so there is that.

I remember watching with my sophomore year roommate the night that Romano freaking lost his arm to a helicopter. It was crazy. And I really thought it couldn't get any crazier, but then, as you know ...

The look of the show really changed from beginning to end, which, given that it lasted fifteen years, is probably to be expected. But I remember most the constantly moving camera in so many of the medical emergency scenes, and I hope that doesn't go away.

Mark's daughter and Peter's son were impossibly cute. Impossibly cute. So so cute. So so so so so cute.

Speaking of Chicago in the 90s, goddamn do y'all remember how incredible the Bulls were? I don't know why I'm putting that in this post, but I guess I am.

Carter/Jing Mei were such great friends, they never stopped being competitive with each other but they nevertheless grew up together and I love that the show never hooked them up.

I don't recall quite why but I feel like Doug and his dad were reminiscent of Riker and his dad from Star Trek. I don't know.

Okay yeah that's all for now.

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