#enough to pay rent. and when i told him i didn’t want the job at all and it was just for the tiny amount of money id be getting he | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cakelitter · 4 months ago

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Sugar Rush Sugar daddy! Leon x fem! reader

warnings: NSFW, sugardaddy! Leon, fem! reader, oral (f receiving), praise kink, age gap

summary: broke reader looks for a sugar daddy which happens to be Leon S. Kennedy

words: 4.1k

“A week? How am I expected to find the money for rent by then?”

“I’ve given you 2 months to figure that out. This is the last straw, if rent is not paid by then, I’m afraid I’ll have to kick you out.”

“But I don’t even have a job I-”

The asshole hung up. Yet another door slamming right in your face. You throw your phone down on your couch as you sit next to it and contemplate what to do next. You can’t find enough money to pay in the span of a week, that’s impossible. You’ve been eating instant ramen for almost 3 weeks straight to cut down on costs, you’re starting to forget what real food tastes like.

You sigh and think about how you ended up in this situation in the first place, once being a hopeful college student who just graduated, full of energy, life, and so much optimist it’s nauseating. Found a new apartment in the capital and moved in a week later to find a job with nothing other than 3 cents to your name and a dream. You anticipated that finding a job with your degree won’t be such a difficult task, sure, your GPA wasn’t the best, but surely it won’t be that hard to secure a job.

If only you knew how naïve you were.

You’ve spent the past 4 months looking for a job left and right. Are people seriously not hiring these days? Either that or someone is praying on your downfall, or perhaps both. You’re way past the state of rock bottom at this point, if you looked through a dictionary for the word “fucked” a picture of your face would be there instead, smiling proudly with a medal around your neck. Your fingers claw at your life-long dreams as they try to slip away from your grasp.

Picking the skin off your lips, you start thinking about how you might have to move back to your home town, live with your parents again while they give you the ‘I told you so’ look, have to deal with people’s comments on why you came back and then have explain like a low life loser why. You start racking your brain for ways to find money, you need cash, and you need it fast.

How about you start selling drugs? Nah, you’d never survive in a field like that. Become a stripper perhaps? You’d fall off that pole and break your neck before you would’ve made a single penny. Your brain is filtering through the possible options you have at hand so quickly, your positive that smoke is coming out your ears at this rate. And that’s when you get it, the answer you were looking for.

A sugar daddy.

Bingo. The picture in your head features a white light with the silhouette of a smoking hot man in a suit leaning on a Porshe in the distance as dollar bills fall like flower petals angelically behind him. You do find older men a little hot, not that you tried dating any, but you’re not opposed to the idea of doing so. You’re no stranger to developing crushes on some older celebrities and video game characters, so this shouldn’t be any different…right? Look, you didn’t want it to reach this point, but desperate times call for desperate measures and in a week from now, you’re going to be homeless if you don’t start searching for someone’s dad to date right now. And apparently that’s all it took to convince you, as you find yourself downloading the app already.

Once the download is complete you open it, and you’re starting setting up your account. You pick the nicest picture you have of yourself, and it doesn’t take long before your account is good to go. Your eyes scan the matches that pop up on the screen, seeing the different faces in front of you that could be your new ticket of getting out of the predicament you’re in. And as you look, you read some of the disgusting bios that these men have, and soon enough a wave of self-awareness comes crashing down on you making you feel utterly disgusted with yourself. Are you seriously willing to go on dates with these dirty old men whose intentions are most definitely filthy, and for what? A hundred or two? You’re better than that, you’re an inspiring young woman with so mu-

Ding!

The device in your hand vibrates, grabbing your attention as you get sent a message request from someone on the app. You open the message, the username is L.S.Kennedy and his message says

“Are all girls usually this pretty? Or is it just you?”.

You stare at the message in front of you for a good minute, that might’ve been the cheesiest thing you’ve ever read since middle school. The account that sent it doesn’t have a profile picture and the bio just mentions his age. He is in his early forties, and aside from that you know nothing about the man. Your survival instincts start kicking in telling you that it’s a bad idea, talking to strangers especially men, online is how most people end up murdered only for their bodies to be found in a ditch. In addition, this man is cringy as fuck, there is no way he thought that would actually work. Those fifty dollars are not worth the years these jokes of his are going to take off your life span. No way, won’t work, you’d rather be homeless.

Ding!

“Sorry if I came on too strong, I want to get to know you. How about 500$ for a first date? I’m willing to go higher.”

Your eyes go wide as you reread the number on your screen over, and over again. 500$. One date.

You love cringy and sappy shit, always had. They are in fact your favorite, love you a man with some cheesy pick-up lines. Call it love, call it fate, but this L.S.Kennedy guy is actually starting to grow on you.

“Hi! No not at all, I’d like to know you as well.”

Okay, that’s a lie. Being a slut and a liar is too much. You couldn’t care less about getting to know him, but alas rent won’t pay itself. The two of you then start talking for around an hour or two, he seems like a really nice guy. His name is apparently Leon and actually lives not too far away. His jokes are well… interesting. Epitome of dad jokes but again the man is the same age as your dad so that’s no surprise. On the bright side, he’s respectful and shockingly hasn’t said anything sexual or made you feel uncomfortable, so that’s a good start. Maybe this whole idea isn’t so bad after all.

The date was set for tomorrow at 7pm. He offered to pick you up but you refused. Listen, you’re dumb enough to go on a date with a man you knew for less than two hours for some quick cash, but not dumb enough to send him your address. The date will be at a nearby restaurant, one of the fanciest restaurants in Washington DC. You even heard that some celebrities and governmental officials actually go there.

Truth be told, you’re starting to get excited, this is by far the nicest thing a man has ever done to you. Albeit, the voice at the back of your head keeps reminding you that he could be dangerous, a stalker, a criminal, or worse, likes banana flavored stuff. A man with this much money is either in a higher up position, or simply working with the wrong people. Now that you think about it, perhaps asking him what he does for a living would’ve been a wise choice. But you didn’t want to sound like you were going after his money! Well, you are but at the end of the day, you still have manners.

The next day eventually rolls around and you start getting ready. You pick the best dress you have that hugs your body perfectly. Wanted to go for something which screams classy and elegant yet still hot. Just because you’re in debt, doesn’t mean you need to look like it as well.

Your friend agrees to drops you off at the location, she knows you’re going on a date with some guy you met on a dating app. She was almost as excited as you were when you found out where this “gentleman” was treating you. Little does she know this said “gentleman” is twice your age… let’s just hope you’re not going out on a date with someone’s husband.

Walking into the restaurant, you shoot him a text informing him that you arrived. Your phone vibrates a couple seconds later with a text that says.

“Waiting for you on the table near the second window.”

You start making your way to the table, and when you eventually find it, you’re greeted by the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life standing near the table. He smiles softly and compliments you, you brain still didn’t register what he said though, as you’re still in awe with how good he looks.

Light brown hair, stormy blue eyes, a slight stubble decorating his chin and crow’s feet forming on the corner of his eyes as he smiles. His body, is in such a good form. Broad shoulders and massive biceps making the white button up shirt that he’s wearing tight in some areas. The chest, oh the chest, surprised how he’s not wearing a bra with those pillows glued to his chest, enough milk supply to feed a whole village.

The hidden cameras better come out now cause you’re definitely getting set up. This man is paying you to go out with him, while you’d pay a kidney and sell your friend for him to even step near you. He definitely has the sugar and daddy part checked off. You spent all this time searching for a job with no success, and you bag him first try? Maybe you should consider switching domains.

The two of you sit down at your table. The view from the window next to you is breath taking, the sun is setting and as she does, the rays reflect on the glass windows of the building below you creating a masterpiece of orange and red hues. The breeze up here is so refreshing, as the faint sound of by-passing cars honk below you. Your eyes move back to the man in front of you.

“This place is nice.”

“Glad you like it sweetheart.”

You’re already fighting the urge to sit on his lap and all he did was call you a stupid pet name. If you were a dog, your tail would definitely be wagging right now. The waiter eventually walks over to your table and you both place your meals before he walks away leaving the two of you alone once more.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say and he raises an eyebrow in return followed by a polite smile.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Why do you not have your name or your face on your profile?”

Understandable question, he’s hot as fuck and would have woman fighting over him on that app if he showed his face. He chuckles at your question, the kind of laugh that sounds like a yacht and a mansion in the Maldives.

“Well, my field of work requires me to keep a low profile, not that I’m complaining anyway. Plus I don’t think my face is really important in these kinds of dates anyways. I know that probably looked really suspicious but I can assure you, I’m not trying to kill you.” He says the last part as he raises his hands defensively.

You nod gently in return. While that did answer some of the questions you had, you were still intrigued to learn more about him. What field does he work in anyway? How can he afford all this? Curiosity was getting the best of you, and so you ask.

“What do you do for a living?”

He grins, and looks at you for a few moments before answering.

“Hmm I get it. Nothing illegal, so that pretty head of yours can stop worrying.” You’re honestly a bit embarrassed now, it’s a date not an interview. But you needed to make sure that you’re safe okay! Better safe than sorry.

He then starts asking questions about your interests, past, favorite movies, etc. And soon enough your food arrives, you continue chatting as you take some bites out of your dish. He’s genuinely interesting, and very attentive. You notice how he watches your expression, body language, and the tone of your voice. Throughout the conversation you learn a bit more about him as well, learned how he went to police academy, hated wearing ties, and thinks that reading books is boring. Last one is a bit problematic, but sure.

Time passes and maybe it’s your brain playing tricks on you, or maybe it’s the wine you keep on sipping, but he seems to get flirtier by the minute. You notice the way his eyes drop down to your lips shamelessly as you speak, and how they linger for a little too long on your chest. You’re not completely innocent however, you are guilty of tilting your head to the side every now and then, batting your pretty mascara covered lashes at him causing a smirk to rise on his face. You manage to get away with it a couple of times before he decides to comment about it.

“Need something sweetheart? I’d like to hear some of those thoughts of yours.”

“I think you’re hot.” That was bold, but he asked for it. Your words don’t even take him by surprise, he knew what you were thinking about, its written all over your face but he just needed you to say it out loud.

“Feelings mutual. How about we get out of here yeah?”

He orders the bill which he pays while leaving a generous tip. The two of you get up, head out the restaurant’s door, and walk over to his car. He opens the door for you in true gentleman fashion and gets in himself. The car smells clean, almost like its brand new. The inside is plain with not much decoration but pretty neat. The windows are tinted blocking out anyone from spying in. He twists the car keys and the engine roars to life and soon enough you start heading towards his place.

Sometime during the ride home, his hand rests on the inside of your thigh and starts slowly moving up to your center before stopping. You bite your lip as heat starts pooling between your legs. His hand then begins caressing your thigh, running his thumb up and down, so close yet so far from where you actually want him to be. The whole time his eyes are fixated on the road ahead of him, simply toying with you for his own fun. Things remain the same for a while before his hands snake up our dress even further, thumb making contact with your cunt. His strokes are lazy and weak, almost as if his fingers are ghosting over your bundle of nerves. Your hips squirm at the sensation and you attempt to move your hips closer to his hand to get more friction. But as you do that moves his hand away from you and repositions itself back on your thigh causing you to whine in protest.

“Almost there baby, can you wait a few minutes more for me? Promise I will make it worth it.”

He looks over to you and you nod a little too enthusiastically. His lips upturn into a smile at your eagerness.

“Such a good girl.” He says, his knuckle brushing against your cheek.

The car then parks at an apartment building, the type that is 16 stories high and the oxygen alone, feels more high quality. He gets out of the car and opens the door for you, before taking your hand in his and making his way to the entrance. The sound of your heels clacking on the tile floor of the reception as you follow his lead to the double doored elevator. You both walk in and he presses the button to the last floor which is followed by the elevator doors closing.

As soon as the two of you are alone in the space, his hand grabs your wrist pinning you onto one of the walls as his other hand grabs your hip before crashing his lips onto yours. You kiss him back, your free hand touching the exposed part of his neck before going up into his hair. He groans at the sensation and grinds his hips into yours, feeling his hardened cock through his pants causing you back to arch. His tongues coax its way into your mouth and you reciprocate. Both of your lips disconnect for a moment as he decides to move to your neck next, sucking and biting on the open skin leaving red and purple marks to blossom in the places where his mouth once was. A soft whine escapes you at the feeling of his hot mouth on the sensitive skin of the crook of your neck.

The elevator dings announcing your arrival, which is followed by the door opening revealing the stupendous penthouse in front of you. The windows are ceiling high and have a wondrous view of the capital, the apartment is dimly lit with only a few lamps illuminating the black and gray living room furniture. The house that you see getting sold for millions of dollars.

“I’ll give you a tour later.”

He says as he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, giving your now exposed behind a smack, and your legs kick in return. He makes his way up the stairs and into what you can only assume is his bedroom before tossing you down on your back and caging you in with his arms. Your hands reach out locking behind his neck pulling him into another kiss, as his hand reaches out for your breast, fondling it through the fabric of your dress.

The stickiness between your legs is starting to get uncomfortable as the sensations of pleasure start taking over you. His hips which are now situated between your legs start rutting against you and open your legs further in return. You feel a hand unzip your dress as you shift slightly allowing him to take the article of clothing off which is then followed by your bra. As soon as your top naked, he wastes no times latching his mouth to one of your stiff peaks, while the other hand flicks the other. He switches between sucking on your nipple and leaving some bite marks of the delicate flesh.

Moments later the removes his mouth with a resounding pop, and starts kissing his way down from the valley between your breasts till the waistband of your panties. He gets off of you for a moment to unbutton his shirt and unbuckle his belt removing it and tossing it somewhere behind him, his pants following a second later. Your eyes travel over his body, unsure where to look at first. Chiseled chest muscles with some trimmed chest hair, defined abs and an unremarkable V line leading to his covered crotch area with few scars scattered all over his body like stars.

“Staring is rude y’know. But you’re cute so I’ll let it pass.” He jokes and moves positioning himself between your legs, he gives your clothed cunt an open-mouthed kiss, his hot breath making you squirm at the feeling.

“Been wanting to taste you all night.”

His fingers grab the hem of your panties pulling them off, revealing your glistening core to him. You feel the familiar sensation of his thumb on your clit once again moving in firm circular motions as his eyes remain glued to your center. The same thumb then moves down to your entrance collecting some of your dripping arousal before going back to its original position.

“Damn baby, all of that for me?”

You nod, your eyes feeling heavy and brain fuzzy from his skilled fingers.

“What you get your clit rubbed a few times and now you can no longer speak? Use your words, I know you can.”

“Yeah, for you. All for you.”

“Atta girl”

He speaks before replacing his thumb with his mouth, your head falls back against the plush mattress as a moan escapes your lips. His hands grab your hips keeping them in place as he eats you like a man starved. He shifts between sucking on your bundle of nerves and dipping his tongue into your entrance, as the prickly feeling of his stubble somehow makes the whole experience much hotter.

Your completely fucked out at this point and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. This is probably the best head you’ve ever gotten in your life. Maybe going after older men was the right call after all. Your hand reaches out and grips his soft hair tugging on it, earning a groan from him which vibrates through you, only intensifying the feeling bubbling inside of you. The view in front of you is now practically burn in the back of your mind till the day you die. The knot in your stomach only seems to get tighter and tighter as his tongue laps over your cunt over and over again.

“Gonna cum.”

“On my face baby, show me how good it feels.”

He opts to focusing on sucking on your clit as two of his fingers penetrate you, and begin to move at the perfect pace and that was enough to send you over the edge. Stars explode behind your eyes as your whole-body shakes. The feeling of his tongue on you that was once causing you pleasure, has now turned into the uncomfortable feeling of overstimulation. You whimper and tug on his hair once again. His face detaches from your core, chin shiny and coated with your arousal as he sucks off the remaining fluid on his fingers and he moves back up removing his underwear. His dick springs free, tip red leaky with precum as he strokes it a few times. Dropping down to your level, he gives your lips a soft kiss while he teases your entrance with his dick for a few moments before he bullies it into you with ease thanks to how wet you’ve gotten. He sucks in a breath of air as your heat envelops him. The tip almost kisses the opening of your cervix as pain and pleasure start to become undifferentiable. You feel full, the fullest you’ve ever been.

“Fuck, tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever had”

Both of you are now face to face with each other, as he gives your furrowed brow a quick peck. His hips then start to move back before going in once more. He grabs your hip with both of his hands as he starts picking up the pace. The look on your face says it all, completely and utterly cock drunk. Eyes droopy, mouth drooling, and babbling pure none sense.

“You still with me sweetheart?” he chuckles as he continues his rocking motion.

“Feels good.”

“And what do you say?”

“Thank you Leon, thank you so much.”

In return, his pace quickens. The sounds of skin smacking and both of your moans fill the quiet room. You don’t know where that came from, never in your life you ever said something like this. This man puts his dick in you once and he’s already rearranging all of your brain chemistry… and your organs. You’re already starting to feel your orgasm creeping up on you once more as your moans only seem to get louder. The pace that Leon is fucking you in, in addition to the praises that are spilling out of his mouth in tandem force another orgasm out of you as you claw at his forearms in attempts to stay grounded.

The spasming sensation of your heat around him causes him to moan as his peak approaches. He pulls out of you, gives himself a few strokes before finishing all over your stomach and collapsing next to you. After his breathing regulates again, gets up, grabs a towel and cleans the mess he made before tucking you in and placing a kiss at the crown of your head.

“Leon” your voice softly calls out to him.

“Yeah?”

“Are all middle-aged men usually this pretty, or is it just you?”

banner by:@anitalenia

#leon kennedy #leon #resident evil #cakelitter #death island leon #leon x reader #leon x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #fem!reader

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after-witch · 1 year ago

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Horrorfest: This Confession Has Meant Nothing (Yandere Derek Goffard x Reader)

Title: This Confession Has Meant Nothing [Yandere Derek Goffard x Reader]

For Horrorfest request:

I don't have much of an idea beyond Derek as Patrick Bateman style serial killer. You're his final girl/boy. Surviving his spree. he hates how fascinated he is with you.

Word Count: 748

notes: yandere, mentions of killing, derek wants to (maybe) kill you; reader is a sex worker

You are one, stupid ugly piece of shit. You’re worthless. Gutter trash. So far beneath him that you’re almost not worthy of killing; not worthy of him scuffing his shoes, handcrafted genuine leather that costs more than rent at your shitty apartment for a year. More, maybe.

You are nothing. Just some bones and a meat suit, just something to bide his time with, something for him to (maybe) fuck and film and when he’s bored enough, dissect. He even tells you his real name (Derek Goffard, and you looked impressed, and you SHOULD BE) because he’s going to kill you so why not?

You’re just something to discard with the morning trash, the morning paper, maybe his nice shoes too because he can buy a new pair whenever he fucking wants. An inconsequential speck.

And yet.

He can’t stop thinking about you.

About the way your lip curled up at him when you realized what he’d done to Susie or Cheryl or whatever her name was. Doesn’t matter. A woman he bought for the night after he bought you, and you were pretending to get along so well that for a moment he assumed your first reaction to seeing her bleeding out from the knife sounds in her torso would be to reach out. Grief. Horror. Shock.

But no. Instead, you’d looked at him… straight at him… like you had the fucking right And you sneered. Actually sneered! With this look of hatred in your eyes that told him you thought you were better than him, that he was shit and you were gold.

You really were fucking stupid, weren’t you?

But then how--and the thought creeps into his brain and he smacks it out viscerally with his hand--did you get away from him? How did you make it out of the condo, into the hallway, down the stairs (ALL those stairs) and out the front door into the night? How hasn’t he found you yet?

Maybe you didn’t have to be smart to survive. Yeah. That made sense. Animals survive in the wild all the time, don’t they? Not all rabbits are eaten by wolves. Some are just fast enough to scurry off into some hole to hide out in, to live another day, to fuck and breed and repeat the cycle until they are either roadkill or fall prey to an eagle or some shit like that.

You were his rabbit.

But he wasn’t going to let you get away. He couldn’t imagine you getting away, cleaning yourself up, getting out of the city. You’d get some job that pays the rent and meet someone; maybe you two would have kids, and you’d be a grandparent or something ridiculous like that, decades down the line.

No.

That wasn’t what he wanted for you. Not when he’d killed so many others in the past few weeks. Not when he recognized you for what you were: his, in some way. His to kill. His to finish with.

Yeah, that would be nice. After he killed you, he’d take a break from it for a while. Maybe see if he could get a promotion at his dad’s business. Find someone to get engaged with--appearances, and all that--and pop out a kid. He could always go back to killing if he felt like it.

That’s the way the world works. He was allowed to kill because he was richer and smarter and better looking. You were going to die because you were nothing beneath his (expensive) shoes.

He just has to find you first. Oh, and when he does… he presses his face against the car window, breath fogging it up. He can just imagine what he’ll do to you. Hurt you. Kill you. Keep you? All three sounded enticing.

His fingers itch, his cock goes hard, just thinking about it.

The street lights are dim in this part of the city, but bright enough for people to make out the faces on the corners, the curve of bodies standing close to the curb.

If you ran, you might have run right back here; where you ply your trade and get your drugs and maybe have a few people you call friends. It’s where he picked you up the first time, after all.

And he’s got all the time and money in the world to track you down again.

#derek goffard #derek goffard x reader #the price of flesh #tpof fanfic #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest

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flippinpancakes64 · 4 months ago

Note

Would you write about the Cullen's and their first date with the reader

First date with the Cullens

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He pulls all the stops for your first date

He goes the very traditional route

He makes reservations at a really fancy restaurant, takes you to the museum, and then takes you home

He’s a bit nervous tbh

Even though he’s known you for months, he still wants to make a good “first” impression

After the date he takes you back to the Cullen house to meet all of his family for the first time

He tells them to behave beforehand

Mostly Rosalie and Jasper but still

Alice:

She just showed up at your house one day and told you to get in the car

She took you to a pottery studio ❤️

She made a mug and on the inside it said “date me?”

So that was your first date

You didn’t even know it was a date

After that she took you to a flower garden

She made you a bouquet that was literally bigger than your head

She’s not nervous

She knows you’ll love it

Jasper:

Ok so if we’re talking about people who would be nervous

This man’s shaking

He doesn’t let it show though

He shows up at your door to pick you up in a suit and tie holding a bouquet

He takes you on a boat ride on one of Carlisle's little yachts

You both admire the view of the city skyline at night

He brings you food that Esme cooked

Give him a little kiss and see what happens ;)

Spoiler alert he jumps into the water

He needs to calm down after that lol

Rosalie:

It's Kate and Garrett's wedding yay

And this girl you've been like sort of really interested in just asked you to be her plus one

AKA Rosalie

So for your first date with the pretty vampire lady from school you get to fly to Canada to attend a big fancy wedding of even more pretty vampires

yippee

I just want to really stress how quick this is

Like bringing some guy you just met to the family reunion vibes

But anyway

Your first date is spent dancing the night away and chatting it up with all of the vampires there

The Denalis were nice enough to doordash you something

Very stressful first date

But hey at least you'll never forget it

Emmett:

He would try to be so sneaky

Like you would have been talking for a couple of months

And then one day he's like

"Omg you're not gonna believe this but I was walking around town yesterday and someone dropped these tickets! They're for your favorite artist and there's two of them! Would you want to go with me?"

Like you're not sly, sir

But you say yes of course

He picks you up and takes you and you guys have a great time

At the end of the night on the drive back home he makes a guilty confession that he lied and that he actually bought the tickets

You just laugh

Esme:

I feel like she would ask you out to do something disguised as just asking you but really it's a date

She asked you to go do something with her

But it turned out actually being a date

She takes you to the movies and to a big craft fair

She buys you anything you want

Will not kiss you on the first date btw

Sorry that's like a fifth date thing

Carlisle:

I think he wants to do something fun

Like rent out a trampoline park or do one of those flying simulators

Or even an arcade

Like something super fun

But I think he'd choose the trampoline park

And then pay the employees extra to leave the building completely so it's just you two

He gets the zoomies like crazy

He's so fast

And the trampolines make him even faster

And it's so fun when he runs with you

Vampire! Bella:

I think she'd try too hard

She would talk about how nervous she was to Alice and she would take over

Thus leading to a very nice candlelit dinner at the Cullen house

That Bella absolutely hates

She feels stuffy in her dress and she's not having fun

It feels too formal

So like a week later she asks for another first date to try again

This time she does what she wants

She takes you down to the beach to watch the waves and just chat

She packs some food for you and you guys just talk for hours

She thinks she did a better job the second time :)

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blades-edge · 6 months ago

Text

False God | Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: Cooper tries to fill the hole in his heart by drowning himself in you.

Pairing: Pre-War!Cooper Howard x f!escort!reader

Chapter warnings: mentions of depression, angst, joking about cowboys in a sexy way ig??, thigh touching, alcohol consumption, brief allusions to masturbation (m)

Words: 3k

A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of my Cooper fic! I am so excited I was finally able to finish it and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this <3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 Link

Cooper had grown used to the emptiness of his apartment. It was significantly smaller than his mansion in Los Angeles. He missed his garden and being able to spend hot summer days in the sun, enjoying a drink while he watched Janey play with Roosevelt.

The divorce wasn’t kind to him. When the entire process had first started, he had been trying to play it cool. Keep his composure, go on with his life as if nothing had happened – but that just didn’t work for him. His job used to be his anchor, but even that was a thing of the past now, considering that barely any studio wanted to affiliate themselves with a Vault-Tec sympathiser. None of them knew what he did after all. He didn’t even want to know what would happen if he brought the things he knew – or at least assumed about Vault-Tec – to the press and therefore to the public. Maybe everyone would call him crazy on top of it all.

But he couldn’t really risk his own life and more importantly Barb and Janey’s just to maybe have a chance at bringing an evil company down. If anything Barb had told him about the Vaults were true then he hoped that she and Janey would be safe when the bombs will fall. It wasn’t a question of ‘What iff’ for him anymore. He knew it would happen sooner or later. Somehow, he seemed to know it in his bones. And the political situation wasn’t really making him feel more positive about the whole ordeal.

In all the sitcoms and movies, they never seemed to talk about the emptiness one could feel after a divorce. His new apartment seemed empty despite the new furniture. The only beacon of hope he had was Roosevelt, but even the food from his fridge didn’t seem to taste the same. Cooper hadn’t been heartbroken since he finished High School. He never had the time for it and his marriage had eventually been just as he had always dreamed as a child. Barb and him rarely argued. Until it all slowly came to an end. Coop didn’t know how to live on his own anymore.

He was surviving off a few small gigs at parties, always donning his iconic cowboy outfit. Of course, he wasn’t oblivious to the whispers behind his back.

‘Look what he has to resort to now..’

‘That is Cooper Howard?’

Cooper tried to shut all their voices out of his head. He had enough to worry about already. Paying his aliments to Barb, paying his rent, trying to stay afloat – somehow.

If his days were lonely, all of his nights spent alone seemed to be even worse. That’s where he had time to think and he didn’t want to think about everything that was going on around him. His cigarettes and the whiskey stored in his fridge quickly became his best friends during all those lonely nights. But they still didn’t fill the gaping hole he seemed to carry in his chest. Everything felt meaningless. Life was only a combination of small moments anymore.

All the good moments he had were the days with his daughter, but there was nothing else that could really make Cooper feel happy or fulfilled.

He craved the feeling of waking up next to a woman again. To feel her kiss him in the morning and to touch her body. This almost reminded him of how he felt as a green teenager, when he had only dreamed about having someone at his side.

It wasn’t really a surprise to him that his hand didn’t feel the same as a woman’s touch did. Gosh, he even rummaged through a few boxes to pull up old pornographic holo-tapes, but even those didn’t really do it for him anymore. At least now how they used to in the past.

His next decision was really a manifestation of his desperation.

Coop stared at the newspaper on his kitchen counter. There were several ads on the page and one of them was able to offer just what he wanted. He took a deep breath, staring at the phone on his wall and then turning his gaze back to the number on the paper.

His last gig had paid rather well and he thought that calling a sex worker might fill the hole in his chest for just a few hours. A few years ago, he could have never imagined going this far, but… he was lonely – and desperate in a way. Sex would take his mind off things and give him enough of an illusion for one night. More than the whiskey could.

“It’s worth a try...” He mumbled to himself and then started to type the number into his phone.

Business had been quiet the last few days. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint why that might be, but you were glad when a call came in eventually. Sex work wasn’t really something society seemed to be proud of, but you knew the numbers of lonely men that called your and other women’s numbers were significantly higher than most people would expect.

It wasn’t just you working here. Multiple women operated under the “Sweet Nights” brand. You were just a small part in the great scheme of things.

Your work certainly paid enough for you to entertain a decent, but not overly luxurious life in Los Angeles. Your small apartment was nothing compared to the big mansions up in Beverly Hills. Yet it was enough.

The red lipstick stood in contrast to your black dress, correcting its straps around your shoulders as soon as Jimmy, the manager of “Sweet Nights”, informed you of your next client. This would be the first and the last for your day, considering that it had been a pretty quiet week night for everyone. On the weekend, calls were more much frequent and you could sometimes do three clients in one day.

Every girl here had different prices. You were somewhere in the middle. Most middle-class men were able to book you, but sometimes, a man wanted to take you out for more than just sex for which you were able to demand a higher price. If you were honest, you preferred that to the simple act of offering sex and then leaving again. You certainly didn’t want to turn down a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant which was probably the best part your job had to offer.

“Is Alan going to drive me?” You asked. Alan was the driver you had worked with the most so far. He was always in a good mood and often enough, he even lifted yours as well. You would share a cigarette or two before or after a client and he’d sometimes even drive you bring some food for you to enjoy after work. Alan was probably your best friend in this business, if you thought about all the people you’ve encountered so far. You got along well with some other women in here as well, but you couldn’t call those intimate friendships.

Sustaining a relationship was also not an easy task given the nature of your job. So far, you hadn’t really been that lucky to find a man accepting of your situation, but you were of the firm belief that you could never know what was going to happen in the future.

“I think so. You still have half an hour, so take it slow.” Jimmy was always kind to you as well, but he did have the attitude of a businessman. Nothing made him more happy than seeing the cash flow in and while you were always on time and working hard, you had seen him treat other women differently – especially the ones that weren’t on time and not bringing in a lot of money.

You had been working at the “Sweet Nights” establishment for multiple years, so you had generated a few regular clients with time. For a man like Jimmy, there was rarely anything better. It meant a steady cash flow and for you, it meant being able to spend time with people you already knew in a way and they usually didn’t make you uncomfortable at all. However, getting attached was strictly forbidden. You didn’t want to breach the border between your professional life and your private one.

Jimmy took his leave rather quickly then, leaving you to your preparations. You made sure to take your birth control before you were heading out, not wanting to risk forgetting it on accident if you were to stay the night at the client’s.

Alan was already waiting for you at the door when you made your way to the car. “Hello, beautiful,” he greeted you, placing a small kiss on the back of your hand before he helped you into the passenger seat of the black car.

Soft jazz music was playing through the radio as you drove to the client’s apartment. It wasn’t too far away from the “Sweet Nights” establishment as you were able to arrive there in under ten minutes. The apartment block in front of you looked simple and it made you quite certain that your client was probably part of the middle class. You had been to fancier homes, but it felt good to be able to ring a bell without going through two security checks on your way inside.

Alan always took his time to wait until you were safely inside. There had been a few times where a client didn’t open the door and your friend drove you home instead.

But this wouldn’t be one of those nights.

When you pushed against the door, it opened for you. You turned around briefly to wave goodbye at your driver, before heading up the stairs to the apartment on the second floor. The sound of your high heels echoed off the beige walls and as you looked up the staircase, you could already see a man waiting by the apartment door.

You always tried to meet your clients without any specific expectations towards them, but when the man came fully into view, you could feel your heart skip a beat. This wasn’t just any man. This was Cooper Howard.

Ex-Movie Star and a new favourite topic in every local gossip magazine. You had read about his divorce as it was almost impossible to avoid the matter these days. Additionally, you were pretty sure you had seen just about every movie he had ever starred in.

“Good evening,” you greeted him, the smile coming to you quite easily as you thought of the fond memories you had from watching his movies. Cooper extended his hand to you almost immediately, shaking it in a gentle manner. “Good evening to you too. Feel free to come inside.” His smile was a polite one as he stepped to the side and let you in.

His apartment clearly wasn’t anything you expected from America’s most famous cowboy, but you knew times were probably a bit rougher for him now. There were a few paintings along the hallway wall, but the interior was nothing fancy. It wasn’t cheap either, but your job had brought you to many Hollywood mansions before and this apartment didn’t have even the slightest resemblance to any of them.

Cooper walked past you slowly. After so many years of working as an escort, you could tell that this was his first time. He looked a little lost, shy even. You were not here to judge about it though, you were here to make him feel good.

“Would you like something to drink? Wine perhaps?” You followed him into the kitchen, watching him as he let his hands restlessly move over the edge of the kitchen island. His face was still displaying the same smile he had greeted you with, but there was clearly a nervousness to his eyes. They were frantically moving from the counter to you and back again.

“Wine is good. I don’t really have a preference,” you assured him with a smile, leaning against the other side of the counter. He gave you a quick nod before he looked for two wine glasses and searched through a small cupboard to retrieve a new bottle for you both.

When the two glasses were filled, you leaned forward a little, supporting yourself against the counter as you looked at the man with a smirk. Cooper pushed your glass over to you, pointing at the living room next door then. “How about you… join me on the couch?”

His voice sounded strained and his hold around the glass seemed a little concerning for its fragility, but you didn’t hesitate to give the movie star an approving nod. “I would love to, Mr Howard.”

You could tell he tensed up a little at the mention of his name, so you quietly took note of that.

“Call me Cooper,” he offered, leading you into the small living room. While he sat down on the far left end of the couch, you didn’t bother to sit down on the opposite end. Instead, you got comfortable right next to him, a quick invitation that he could touch you if he wanted.

And Cooper did want to. But his mind was clouded with many things. This experience was completely new to him, but you were absolutely gorgeous in that black dress and he was very curious to see what was underneath it. He was only a man too after all, but–

You clinked your wine glass against his and he was pulled back into the reality of things. His eyes drifted over your body, a hint of longing appearing in them and you could feel yourself smile a little more at that. Cooper wasn’t showing you disinterest, but you could feel the insecurity inside him.

This job brought you close to many different people and you would be a fool to assume that Cooper wasn’t struggling with the divorce. This wasn’t a rare scenario at all – many men were asking for your services when they wanted to fill the hole left behind by their beloved wives.

While you took the first sip from your wine, you made sure to keep eye contact up with Cooper. It was enough to send a cold shiver down his spine and let his free hand claw at the arm rest of the couch.

He took a sip from his drink as well, before placing the glass down on the small table in front of him.

His lips parted for a moment, ready to form words, but you were quick to place a hand on his arm. Just a gentle touch. Not too much if he didn’t want it yet. “I know this is your first time. I can tell. And… we can do it all in whatever pace you’d prefer.”

For a moment, the man seemed a little surprised by your words, but his expression quickly changed to a softer one. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I’m��”

What was he even trying to say? Cooper didn’t want to come across as an inexperienced teenager or the like, but he also didn’t want to seem too desperate. Even though he was. His body was clearly desperate.

“It’s alright.” Maybe a little bit of light conversation might help him, so you took the time to let your eyes wander over his appearance. His brown hair was brushed back neatly and it definitely looked like he had shaved this morning. There was a simple, but beautiful ring adorning his finger, but you were sure it was not his former wedding band. His beige pants and the dark blue sweater were a lot more casual than your own outfit, but you had always been sure that Cooper Howard would look good in anything.

Would his movies be a good topic to start with? Tell him that you were a fan?

“I’ve loved your movies for years, you know?”

The look in his eyes changed. His curiosity seemed to give way to disappointment and hurt. Probably the wrong topic. Too sensitive or too personal.

Your throat seemed to tighten and you were ready to apologise when Cooper interrupted you.

“Isn’t it a strange thought that… I’m now asking you to have sex with me in a way?” His eyebrows were pushed together in confusion and you didn’t know how to answer at first.

Of course, it wasn’t what you had expected, but saying you were displeased with the idea would be a lie.

“No. It’s exciting, actually. Maybe cowboys have always been my thing.”

Cooper’s laugh was quite infectious. He had a big smile, a beautiful one too. His shoulders seemed to relax a little and he eventually put an his arm on the couch behind you.

“What’s the saying? Save a horse, ride a cowboy?” His voice had grown a little deeper and while you were still able to watch his right hand hold tightly onto the arm rest next to him, a little bit of doubt had probably left him.

You decided to weigh in on that.

“I would never say no to a man like you, of course. Definitely worth saving that horse.”

Another laugh.

For the first time in a while, the harmless banter seemed to clear his mind off a few worries. Yes, it was a sensitive topic, but you approached it with enough ease that it didn’t seem all that awful anymore to Cooper.

His left hand eventually moved down to your thigh, gently holding onto it as he searched for your eyes again.

And before you could really think a lot about it, you kissed the former movie star, maybe a little too eager.

Yet he was all for it. Your lips felt like a relief he hadn’t experienced in a long time and as he leaned in for more, he was certain that if nothing else could drown out the worries in his mind, your lips would surely be able to quiet his thoughts – even if it was just temporary.

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard fanfic #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard smut #cooper howard #cooper howard headcanons #cooper howard imagine #prewar!cooper #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout show #fallout amazon #fallout tv series #fallout series #walton goggins

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ohitslen · 1 year ago

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Sharing a meal

I wrote something for this below the cut if you’re interested :)

They never eat anything too tasty, surviving with packeted rations and canned food in their journey. Sometimes they would stop at a little restaurant and eat a nice meal; it really tasted like something gourmet after days of going with grain bars and dry jerky.

There were fleeting moments in between conversations in which one of them would remember some dish, from back in the day when things were easier and they didn’t worry about too many things. They never went deeper into the topic, just mentioning how they missed a good meal.

Staying at an inn or any motel was an expensive thing to pay for. However sometimes they had some extra money from an odd job Vash did or from Wolfwood’s undertaker services, and they would always rent a room as a treat for themselves.

It was a surprise when they entered the room and saw a small kitchen. The space was a little too cramped but it had everything they needed, it was like a deluxe room when they though about all the places they had been at. None of them had a kitchen at all, maybe they had a tiny stove or a mini fridge, perhaps a table sometimes but never the whole set together.

They both looked at each other to confirm they really were seeing the thing, smiling excitedly.

They could make a meal for themselves.

Vash knew how to cook, he had done some work on kitchens throughout his life. A few times he helped Rem when he was a child, he knows how to defend himself. Yet he didn’t know any recipes by heart, not any that would be inside their budget at least. He could get creative and probably whip up a thing or two if he was given enough time.

“I know what to do” Wolfwood said with a smile that irradiated a melancholic warmth interrupting his thoughts . A smile Vash had only seen when he talked about the things he loved.

Vash didn’t suggest anything in the end and just followed what the other man told him to do.

He went to buy all the things Wolfwood asked him for. Vegetables and some thoma meat. There seemed to be some spices in the room so he only bought garlic and onion as per Wolfwood’s request.

When Vash got back, he found Nick at the table arranging the ingredients the kitchen already had. He was already showered, hair messy and with droplets of water hanging on the tips. Getting closer, he could smell the soap, the cheap shampoo and the lingering scent of nicotine that never seemed to go away. He was changed into a black, long sleeved shirt and a pair of loose dark blue pants.

His overall appearance made Vash think how the edges of the man were less sharp, he seemed more relaxed and at ease, even if it wasn’t entirely the case. He just looked, soft.

“Hey welcome back, did you bring what I asked you for or will I have to use your meat for this?” Wolfwood greeted him without looking up from his task, the ingredients being the most interesting thing in the world it seemed.

Something warm pooled at the pit of Vash’s stomach, he didn’t know why that was and didn’t bother to think about it either, just enjoying the feeling.

Smiling, he placed the bags on the table in front of Wolfwood, taking out its contents. “I’m sure I brought everything yeah, I hope my life can be spared”.

The priest snorted at him and grabbed a potato that was rolling off the table. “Aight then, make yourself useful and start washing these and then chop ‘em to reasonable bitable sizes”. Losing no time, he took the meat and was cutting it while giving out the instructions.

While Vash was washing and chopping, the other was already preparing the meat putting it in a pot with boiling water. Once Vash was finished with all he was asked to do, Wolfwood ushered him to take a shower while the food was done, wanting to have more space in the narrow place. Vash did as told in that as well.

The shower felt great, all of the gross stickiness from the sweat and other things were finally washed off from his body. He felt light and a thousand times more content.

As he opened the door the smell hit him in the face, a delicious scent that surely tasted even better. Wolfwood was stirring the pot, poking some of the potatoes to make sure they were on the right term, and they seemed to be as he turned off the stove.

Vash got closer, mouth already watering just from the thought of how it’d taste “That smells so good! What did you make?” He asked with a big grin plastered all over his face.

Wolfwood pointed at the table with his hand, signaling him to sit down a little dismissively while he looked for the bowls on his own. It seemed like he was the kind that with less people on the kitchen when he was there, the better. “Just a broth, nothing too wow it’s something easy, and on budget”. Vash hummed with wonder and served two cups of water to busy himself with something.

Wolfwood poured the two servings of the broth, it was still hot and the bowl must surely be scalding. Yet Wolfwood’s calloused hands never flinched, placing their food on the table without much trouble along with a pair of long spoons.

“Be careful or you will murder your tongue” he warned and Vash chuckled.

“Thanks for the heads up chef, ‘preciate it” the other just scoffed at the title and sat down across him .

They both mixed the broth while blowing at it in hopes for it to cool down a little. However seeing how they were both starving and didn’t care too much about getting burnt or not, they just started to dig in.

Wolfwood was eating eagerly, having spoonful after spoonful of his food. He was beyond delighted. It had been a long time since he had the chance to prepare the broth he used to have back at the Orphanage.

“It’s…delicious” he heard Vash say in a low and calm tone. When he looked up to see the man, he was shocked to find him with reddish eyes that were glistening with tears. It didn’t seem like when was doing a show or anything of the sorts, he just seemed…at peace.

It wasn’t anything extravagant, quite possibly one of the most simple dishes Vash has ever eaten. It was made with the things that they could afford with the little money they could spare, the ingredients were definitely not of the best quality, the vegetables could have used a little more time on the pot. And it was delicious.

Vash felt incredibly warm inside, similar to how he felt when Wolfwood greeted him when he got back, just a thousand times stronger. The first sip he had of it tasted like the best thing ever cooked in his whole life, something he would have every day of the year for the rest of eternity. He didn’t know why that was at first, but after having a second spoon of it he could tell what it was.

It tasted like home.

The flavor of it, it was homely, the savor of melancholy. It tasted like their conversations about missing the past. The tang of the times they would have a peaceful night in the desert grilling worm meat around a campfire. It reminded him when he got sick and an old lady had given him a bowl of soup. It tasted like the first time Rem had given them a try of what meat and vegetables tasted like. It tasted like all the things he missed, and the things Nicholas most likely missed too.

The familiarity of it made him feel fuzzy and full on the inside, and he couldn’t stop eating. He was slow while doing it, wanting to savor every bit of what he could have while it lasted. It was rich, it was simple and it was perfect.

“…You want some more?” At some point, Nicholas had already finished his own bowl and brought the pot over to serve himself again. He looked at Vash with something soft in his eyes the other could not name, his voice was gentle and gravely, sweet and easy on his ears just adding more to the warmth inside of him.

“Yes…yes please” Vash answered, voice cracking a little. Nicholas served him, the sound of the liquid being poured soothing his soul.

Vash ate again, and Wolfwood was looking at him. The priest was taking small sips of water from his cup, always holding it against his mouth even if he wasn’t drinking anything. Vash didn’t really notice when he had started tearing up, thick streams of salty water running through his cheeks, a pool of them welling up at his chin and falling down the wooden table making a puddle of happy tears.

Vash enjoyed the heartfelt broth. He was happy, that bit of simplicity was enough to make him forget of everything else and just focus on that moment.

It was so mundane. Vash smiled with overflowing tears in his eyes while Wolfwood just watched with a fond smile of his own behind his empty cup of water.

At that moment, they were not in a random room at a random place. They were in a place where they had brought their home to, sharing a meal with each other.

#Vash just had his Ego moment #preparing food and eating together is a love language I can’t even begin to describe #and I mean eat EAT. like sitting down and enjoying the food to its fullest THAT kind of eat #delusional hours always open and it’s usually at it’s worst at the most questionable #time of the day ey aha HAHANEBWNNE #domestic Vashwood is my own personal absolutely peak favorite flavor of it as in any other thing ever #I said it earlier but I’ll say it again. domesticity and sharing simple moments are what makes life worth living #these two guys I bet rarely ever get to enjoy moments like these to their fullest so I’m doing this in honor of them never catching a break #this is special and this Vash is the cutest thing I’ve ever done #kinda wanna make him my pfp he’s so #AAAAAAA IM GOING INSANE IQNENW UEUJEHE #trigun #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun stampede #vash #wolfwood #nicholas trigun #trigun fanart #vashwood #trigun maximun #trigun fanfiction #trigun fic #lenssi writes #lenssi draws #I wanted to see this so bad and then I was like oh wait I can just do it myself. like every time I draw or write abt them LMAOOOO

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tilebytiles · 4 months ago

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infallible beliefs - a.t. (part 1)

summary: as it turns out, professors are actually capable of feeling things, and alex feels more things for you than he’d like to. word count: 7.8k warnings: age gap (reader is 21 and alex is 30), mentions of violence, abuse (physical, emotional and financial) a/n: the reason he's 30 is bc i personally didn't feel comfortable writing an age gap bigger than that ! lets all just use our imaginations and pretend that the looks are there </3

You liked to consider yourself the kind of person that had everything together. To some degree, you thought you did - you went to school and kept your grades up, you had a part-time job at a local pet store that you loved, and you shared a lovely flat with your boyfriend of three years. By all appearances, you had your life together. But that was the exact issue, wasn’t it? What good were appearances supposed to be when you constantly felt like you were on the brink of falling apart?

Coffee in hand, you rushed into the English building and made a beeline for your British Literature professor’s classroom. Due to the smaller size of your class, it was never in one of the lecture halls, meaning lessons always felt more intimate. You knew everyone’s names - you couldn’t say the same for the astronomy class you’d taken during your first year, or the nutrition class you were taking this term in an effort to chip away at your electives. You were normally one of the more participatory students, asking questions and answering any your professor posed to the class. Your love for literature ran deep, hence why you intended on getting your degree in English. It was easy for you to be invested in the lessons.

“Good morning, Ms. L/N,” your professor called from the desk at the front. He was doing something on his laptop, presumably trying to get the slides for today pulled up.

You smiled softly at him. “Good morning, Mr. Turner.” You walked to your usual seat and set your bag down on the floor, settling down into the chair. Your coffee felt like it would run cold soon if you didn’t finish it.

You were in your third year of university - in the middle of the spring term - and Mr. Turner was the nicest professor you’d ever met. You’d taken one of his classes before, and when the term had ended, you were half-tempted to sign up for every class he was offering. Would half of them even fit into your schedule? No. Did you really care? Also no. There was something about him that made his class actually enjoyable; maybe it was the way he spoke - soft yet sure, polite even when he was being forced to listen to the stupidest thing he’d ever heard - or the way he presented material, like he was genuinely interested in it and he wanted you to be, too. Whatever it was, you were utterly captivated.

The clock struck 10am, and Mr. Turner shut the door to the room before turning to the class. “Good morning, everyone. Today, I thought we could discuss Charlotte Brönte and the impact of her writing, most notably Jane Eyre.”

Rent was due soon. You needed to remind John to pay it. Speaking of John, he’d told you to ask for a raise at the pet store, but you really didn’t think you needed it. Your current wage was enough, wasn’t it? Plus, you didn’t want to come off as money-hungry by demanding more pay out of nowhere. Was he concerned about money? You knew the two of you had enough. You took a sip from your coffee and tried not to make a face; it was lukewarm. In your eyes, coffee either had to be piping hot or freezing cold to be enjoyed. You preferred iced coffee, but the risk of frying your taste buds prevented you from chugging hot coffee as soon as you got it, so you tended to opt for it instead. You were suddenly glad you didn’t try to get John coffee; he would be as displeased by the temperature as you were. He only liked hot coffee. Would you see him for lunch? If you did, you could remind him about rent then. You hoped he wouldn’t want to go back to your flat to eat.

“Ms. L/N?”

The sound of Mr. Turner’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up at him. “I’m sorry?”

His expression didn’t change, but you could have sworn you noticed a subtle shift in his eyes. “I asked what you thought of the feminism in Jane Eyre.”

“Oh, uh …” Silence filled the classroom, the kind that was all-consuming and threatened to swallow you, your classmates and your professor whole. There was a metallic thunk as someone near the back set their water bottle down. You looked down at your notes, as if they’d save you, but you’d written a whole of three sentences before clocking out. Speaking of clocks, what time was it? How long had you been deep in your own thoughts?

You finally acted as your own saviour and managed a meek, “I think it’s a product of its time.”

Mr. Turner’s eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly, and he nodded slowly. You were waiting for him to point out your spacing out to the rest of the class, but he said nothing of the sort. All he said was, “That could be argued, yes. Brönte didn’t write Jane as a hyper-feminist that smashed all stereotypes and expectations of women in the 1800s. In fact, many have argued that Jane Eyre has no true feminism due to Jane’s submission to gender roles by the end of the novel …”

The rest of the lesson went by in as much of a blur as the first half did, except now you were actually trying to pay attention. Eventually, Mr. Turner dismissed all of you, and the room was filled with bags unzipping and the clacking of pencils and pens being picked up off desks. You got your things together and stood from your seat, preparing to head out (and throw out your disgustingly cold coffee on the way). You were stopped, however, by the sound of your professor’s voice as he said, “Ms. L/N, could I have a word with you, please?”

You made a quick trip to the bin beside the door and tossed out your coffee cup, then circled back around and stepped towards the desk at the front of the room. Mr. Turner had looked down for just a moment, marking something on a sheet of paper, but as you grew closer, he looked up, offering you a small smile. It did nothing to calm your nerves. Gulping slightly, you said, “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes. It’s about your …” He looked off to the side as he searched for the right word. “… inattentiveness in class recently.”

The alarm bells sounded in your head, and your brain was a breath away from sending a signal to your legs to get you the fuck out of there. Sensing your impending panic, he quickly added, “You’re not in trouble, I promise.”

Your brain halted. “Oh. I’m not?”

“No. Believe me, you’re not the first student I’ve had to zone out during my lessons.” He waved his hand dismissively as he spoke, as if trying to shoo away your worries. “However, it is strange coming from you. You’re normally a very active participant, but recently, you’ve hardly spoken. I just wanted to know if something was going on.”

You didn’t know if you were relieved or even more scared. “No, I’m fine,” you replied, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I’ve just had a lot on my mind, is all.”

“Well, you can always talk to me if you just need somewhere to dump your thoughts. You’re one of my best students, and I wouldn’t want to see you fail.” He smiled again, and you managed a small smile in return. You appreciated his offer, although you weren’t sure if you’d be using it anytime soon. You didn’t want to burden him in any way.

You hadn’t noticed the way his gaze latched onto your wrist. At least, not until his brows furrowed. He raised his hand, but didn’t touch your wrist, just gestured to it. “Where did that come from?”

You looked at your wrist, equally as confused as he was, and saw the small bruise that had formed just below where the bone protruded. The alarm bells started back up, and your brain began drafting up that signal for your legs. “Oh.” You gulped. “It’s nothing. I just bumped into a table in my flat.”

His eyes narrowed, and his hand dropped back to his side. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Turner,” you said quickly, already turning around to leave. “I appreciate the concern, really, but I’m just clumsy. I have to go now.” You beelined for the door. “See you on Friday!”

“… Right. Have a good day, Ms. L/N.”

It took everything in you to not run down the hall and slam through the doors. You forced yourself to keep your pace at a brisk walk, gently pushing the doors open once you reached them. You spotted John’s car in the nearby parking lot with relative ease and headed towards it, cursing yourself internally for the shitty excuse you’d made for Mr. Turner. Bumping into a table? Really?

As you slipped into the passenger seat and settled your bag into your lap, John leaned over the console and kissed your cheek. “How’d your class go?”

“It went okay.”

You secured your seatbelt, and John reached over, gently grabbing your wrist. He turned it over, examining the bloom of purple by the bone. “Why didn’t you try to cover this up with makeup?”

“I was in a rush this morning. I didn’t think to.”

His grip tightened, his fingers digging into the bruise and making you wince. “No one saw it, did they?”

“No.” You didn’t dare mention your professor’s questioning.

“Good.” He released your wrist, then put the car in reverse and looked up at the rearview mirror as he began backing out of the parking spot.

The car ride was silent as John drove the two of you to wherever he planned to take you for lunch (not your flat - you’d already passed the street he would normally turn onto). You were content to stare blankly out the window the whole time, but he had other ideas. “You know I love you, right?”

You looked over at him, a little surprised. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “I know.”

“I would never intentionally try to hurt you like that, baby. Last night was just …” He sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I was just frustrated, that’s all.”

The frustration in question arose when you had asked if you could buy the Starry Night Lego set. Van Gogh was one of your favourite artists, and you’d been dying to get the set since it had first released. When you told him what the price was, though, John was practically seeing red. The bruise did come from a table, but it was less because you’d bumped into it and more because he had shoved you and sent you crashing down against it. You had apologised and promised to never bring the set up again.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, dragging you out of your thoughts and back into the car.

“I know,” you repeated. You couldn’t remember the last time you had said you loved him.

The car eventually came to a stop, and you looked up, spotting the café he had brought you to. The two of you had eaten there a few times before; you quite enjoyed the food, although John wasn’t very fond of coming because he was convinced the male waiter stared at you. The last time you were here, you’d made a point of checking for stares, and every time you looked, the waiter’s eyes were nowhere near catching yours. You kept that to yourself, though, not wanting to have a shouting match with your boyfriend in the middle of lunch.

As you both headed for the door, you wondered if this was his way of trying to make amends. You knew it would take a lot more than a lunch date for you to forgive him, but you at least appreciated his efforts; it was better than him doing nothing at all, right? His fingers were stiff between yours as he held your hand just a bit too tight to be comfortable, guiding you through the café as the employee behind the counter led you to an open table. You sat down across each other, and the employee informed you your waitress would be with you in a couple of minutes before disappearing, presumably to return to her post. You picked up one of the menus and opened it up, quickly scanning the options available to you.

Sure enough, your waitress came just a couple of minutes later, notepad in hand. “Hey, friends,” she said with a warm smile. You liked her already. “My name is Alina, and I’ll be your waitress. What can I get you guys to drink?”

“Can I have a margarita, please?” John asked, looking up from his menu.

Alina nodded and quickly jotted it down before looking to you. You did your best to return her smile and said, “Just water, please.”

“Alright, a margarita and some water. I’ll be back with those drinks as quick as I can, and then we’ll get going on food, okay?”

“Thank you,” you said, watching as she departed from your table. You eventually looked back over at John, doing your best to mask your mild disapproval. “Are you sure you should be drinking this early in the day?”

He scoffed. “Y/N, I can hold my alcohol. I’ll be fine.”

“But you’re driving-”

“I’ll be fine,” he repeated, his voice growing cold. You nodded and looked back down at the menu, pretending to suddenly be interested in the café’s sandwich selection.

Eventually, Alina returned with John’s margarita and your water and set both drinks down on the table before getting her notepad back out. “What can I get you guys today?”

“I’ll have the salmon Benedict with a side of chips, please,” John said, looking down at his menu before looking up at Alina.

She nodded and wrote down his order before turning to you. “And for you?”

“She’ll have the Caesar salad.”

She looked back at John, slightly surprised, but nodded and wrote it down anyway. “Will that be all for you two?”

“Yup.”

“Alright, I’ll get this to the kitchen.” She smiled at the two of you and collected your menus before departing once more.

John reached over the table and lightly tapped your nose. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” You looked up at him. “Nothing.”

“You could try to look happier, you know.” You sighed through your nose and forced your best smile. He rolled his eyes. “Not like that.”

“I’m not unhappy, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” You kind of would, but you didn’t tell him that. “You haven’t even thanked me for bringing you here when you know I hate coming here.”

“Thank you, John.”

“For?”

The image of you dumping his margarita right into his lap flashed through your mind, but you quickly shooed it away. “Thank you for bringing me here even though you don’t like being here.”

He nodded, as if to say your thanks was satisfactory enough. “You’re welcome, Y/N.”

You were beginning to wonder how much longer you could do this for.

•••••

“Alexa, I could’ve come here on me own.”

“You could’ve, but I wanted to come with you. You can shop for your cat, and I can shower the animals in attention.”

Alex sighed and pulled the door to the pet store open, allowing Alexa to step through first before following her inside. It was the middle of the week and just shy of turning to 6pm, so there weren’t many other customers inside. He kept running through the list he’d made in his head, not wanting to forget anything, and headed for one of the aisles while Alexa flagged down an employee to ask about petting the puppies.

He hadn’t intended to become a cat owner, but during an outing (with Alexa, funnily enough), he’d come across a stray black kitten shivering to death in a cardboard box. The sight of its small, furry form teetering between life and death was too much to bear, and it’d taken hardly any convincing on Alexa’s part before he was picking up the cardboard box and carrying it back to his car. They’d immediately gone to the vet and had the cat taken care of, and it turned out to be a male. Alex named it Herbert.

That was a couple of weeks ago. Although Herbert had the basics - food, a collar (for when he was actually big enough to fit in it), a bed (that he didn’t really use because he always slept with Alex) - he didn’t have much in the way of entertainment. Alex wasn’t sure which toys he’d like the most - which toys any cat would like the most, actually. He wasn’t used to taking care of animals.

He slowed to a stop in front of a shelf full of cat toys and bent down to grab a small plush mouse. He turned it over and over in his hand, trying to decide if Herbert would like it. It was a mouse, and cats were obsessed with mice, weren’t they? If the wild misadventures of Tom & Jerry had taught him anything …

“Mr. Turner?”

He looked up at the sound of his name and locked eyes with one of the employees over the shelf. “Ms. L/N,” he said, blinking a couple of times in surprise. “I didn’t realise you worked here.”

You smiled at him, perhaps a little shyly, and he instantly recognised it as the kind of smile you donned in class whenever you were invested in the topic at hand. For a brief second, he questioned why he even remembered what that smile of yours looked like, but he tried not to dwell on that for too long. “I’ve worked here for a little over a year now,” you told him, dragging him back out of his own head. “It’s a nice excuse to deal with animals all the time.”

You liked animals, then. He made a mental note of that, although he wasn’t sure why. “That’s entirely reasonable,” he replied, managing a small smile that mirrored your own. “I became a literature professor because … well, I love literature.”

You laughed at that, a small, soft laugh that bordered on a giggle. “I don’t imagine you’d become a literature professor because you love science.”

He chuckled. “No, certainly not. Science was never really my thing, anyway.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Ah, I needed to pick up some things for Herbert.” When you stared at him in confusion, he realised his error. “My cat, I mean. I wanted to get some toys for him, but, er, I don’t really know what cats like.” He held up the little mouse toy in his hand for emphasis, and your confusion quickly morphed into understanding.

He watched as you walked around the shelves and made your way to the aisle he was on, coming to stand beside him in front of the row of cat toys. “Do you know how old he is?”

“Uh, not even a year, I don’t think. He’s a tiny little thing.”

You nodded slowly and seemed to think on it before reaching out to grab a toy that perfectly resembled a fishing rod. It was one of those sticks with the line of string at the end and something attached to the string, but the something in question was a little stuffed fish. Clever marketing, really. “Kittens tend to be more energetic, so he’ll probably get a kick out of something like this.”

You held it out to him, and he took it from you. “Thank you, Ms. L/N.”

“Oh, you don’t have to call me that,” you said quickly. “You can just call me Y/N.”

His brows raised a little, although he didn’t object. He knew your first name, of course - he knew all his students’ first names - but he always opted to refer to everyone by their last name, seeing it as the polite thing to do. Calling a student by their first name felt … foreign, admittedly. If you wanted him to, though … “Right,” he said, smiling faintly. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You returned his smile, and he hated the faint flutter he felt in his chest at the sight. “Of course, Mr. Turner.”

Silence settled between the two of you, although it wasn’t necessarily awkward. A question lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t sure how to phrase it. He wasn’t sure if it was even his place to ask (it probably wasn’t). Still, before he could catch himself, the words tumbled from his mouth. "Are you ... doing any better?" He had half a mind to run out of the store and quit his job.

The way you were staring at him wasn't helping.

"Oh, um ... yeah," you said, your voice quieter than it'd been before. "I mean, it healed." You held your wrist up, and his gaze dropped to the smooth skin beneath your wrist bone. Sure enough, the purple blemish that had been there before was gone. A part of him was relieved, but another itched to know why you'd even had a bruise in the first place.

"That's good," he murmured, his gaze flickering back up to meet yours. "Y/N ..." He paused, then sighed. It really wasn't his place to ask, but - "If you're alright with me asking, where had that bruise really come from?"

He watched as your own gaze fell upon your wrist. You slowly turned it over, as if you were expecting to find some new mark you would need another half-assed excuse for. Nothing was there, though. You eventually opened your mouth, a syllable of a word escaping your throat, and he was immediately bracing himself for the answer - one he knew he wouldn't like - but you never got to tell him. At the same time you began to speak, Alexa came over, nudging her shoulder against his. "Did you find anything?"

He jumped slightly at the sudden contact and looked over at her, blinking once or twice. "Oh, er ... yeah. She helped me." He gestured to you, making Alexa glance over at you. "She's one of my students," he added.

Alexa smiled at you and held her hand out for you to shake. You did so and offered her a small smile. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Ms. Chung in the design department, but you can just call me Alexa. I don't think I've seen you around campus before."

"I'm Y/N," you told her. "I'm going into literature, so that's probably why we haven't crossed paths."

"Alex didn't have to bully you into that, did he?"

You laughed and shook your head. "Not at all. I'd already decided a while ago what I wanted to study. He's been a wonderful professor, though."

You thought he was wonderful?

It was stupid, and he felt like a teenager again, his head partway in the clouds and partway stuck to reality as he bought the cat toys and some extra food for Herbert. Stupid and reckless, that's what it was. You were his student, and as far as he knew, you were that nice to everyone. You considering him a wonderful professor didn't mean a damn thing, and it was insane of him to think it did - no, scratch that, to want it to mean something.

Those feelings of his weren't entirely out of the blue; he'd just gotten good at ignoring them and maintaining a professional boundary between the two of you. Even if it wasn't illegal - you were 21, and he 30 - it was morally reprehensible and went against everything he stood for. Sometimes, though, he still found himself staring at you for just a second too long, and sometimes your enthusiasm in his class made his heart skip one too many beats. Throughout the term, he had done his best to never cross the line he'd personally drawn, but when he'd seen the bruise on your wrist ... it was difficult to deny the feelings it stirred up within him. He didn't like the worry he felt seeing it, and he didn't like the cloud of concern that followed him for the rest of the day as your shitty excuse and your forced smile played on repeat in his head.

"Earth to Turner."

Alexa waved her hand in front of his face as they walked down the sidewalk together, heading back to his car so he could deposit the bag of goods for Herbert inside. He blinked in surprise and looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"You're thinking awful hard over there."

"I've just - got a lot on me mind, is all," he said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand.

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't press him for answers. She just shrugged and sighed, redirecting her gaze to the world in front of them. "Whatever you say, Al." He knew she could see right through him, although he was silently grateful she didn't say anything else; frankly, he wasn't sure he even had any answers for her.

What were you doing to him?

•••••

You weren’t fond of bars. You didn’t mind alcohol - although you usually kept your drinking restricted to special occasions - but having to deal with other drunk patrons wasn’t the greatest way to spend your time, you thought. Having to deal with your drunk boyfriend wasn’t great, either.

You weren’t fond of bars, but when John wanted to go to one, you weren’t really in a position to say no.

Although your boyfriend seemed to go all-out every time the two of you left your flat, you couldn’t be bothered. You pulled on a white skirt that went down to your knees and a grey jumper than had some American university you were unfamiliar with printed on it (you had gotten the jumper from a charity shop, if you were remembering correctly). Despite it being spring, days were still cold in London, and the nights weren’t any better. Plus, you preferred to show as little skin as possible, especially if you had to be around drunk men.

You stuffed your phone, wallet and keys into your bag and double-checked that you had everything before zipping the bag shut and slipping the strap over your shoulder. John finally re-emerged from the bathroom and ran a hand through his hair, raising an eyebrow at the sight of you. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

“I don’t see an issue with it,” you said. Your voice was a bit curt, showing that you weren’t in the mood to deal with his persnickety bullshit, and he seemed to get the message. Instead of responding verbally (starting an argument), he just nodded and grabbed his keys.

Fifteen minutes later, after an uncomfortably silent car ride, you found yourself sat beside John in one of the booths at the back of the bar, nodding absentmindedly and giving false hums in an effort to make yourself seem like you were paying attention to whatever it was he was rambling about. You were only really picking up bits and pieces - his older brother was disappointed in him, he was convinced his parents didn’t love him even though you knew from firsthand experience that they very much did, all things you’d heard before. It wasn’t that you didn’t care; to a degree, you did sympathise with him. But it was only to a degree.

As he drunkenly babbled on in your ear, you glanced around the dimly lit bar, your eyes scanning dozens of faces you didn’t recognise. You could pick out a couple - students you’d seen around campus before - but the rest came together to form a sea of unfamiliarity in front of you. You sipped from your glass, wincing as the alcohol carved a burning trail down your throat. The bar you were in had live music on the weekends, and tonight, the performer was someone you hadn’t caught the name of. He had a shaved head, wore what appeared to be a leather vest with nothing underneath and a pair of black skinny jeans, and his eye makeup was leagues better than anything you could pull off. He seemed cool, and you liked the sound of his voice. You made a mental note to figure out who he was before you went home with John.

“I have to use the restroom,” you said suddenly, standing up from your seat and cutting John’s sentence short. You looked down at him. “I’ll be right back.”

His brows furrowed, and he grabbed your wrist. “I’ll go with you.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise. Just wait here.” You pried his hand off (due to his inebriated state, he wasn’t gripping you very hard) and slipped out of the booth, heading straight for the bathroom. You kept your head down, doing your best to avoid eye contact with anyone.

The music was muffled and, admittedly, a little less headache-inducing in the bathroom. You stood in front of the row of sinks and sighed, rubbing at your face with your hands. You examined your reflection in the mirror, immediately noting the dark circles under your eyes and the almost gaunt appearance of your cheeks. Had you lost weight recently? You hadn’t noticed. You’d been too busy with everything else …

“Fuck you!” a shrill voice screamed, bounding into the bathroom as the heavy door swung shut behind the owner. You jumped at the sound and turned your head, watching as a girl stomped behind you, stopping in front of the sink beside you. She was huffing, her chest heaving, and for a second, you swore you saw steam pouring out of her ears.

It wasn’t really your place to get involved, but she looked like she was a breath away from blowing the building up. Slowly, you asked, “Are you alright?”

She slammed her bag down onto the countertop - that, too, made you jump - and began rummaging through it, pulling different things out. Ah, she was fixing her makeup. “My stupid fucking boyfriend started chattin’ with some other girl and thought I wouldn’t fucking notice,” she said, opening up a pack of makeup wipes. “It’s not even the first time he’s done it, I’ve just been too nice and let him off.”

“Did the girl know you-“

“If she did, I’m rippin’ her fucking face off,” she muttered.

Fair. You turned the water in your sink on and let it warm up for a few seconds before leaning down to splash your face. “Is he still your boyfriend, then?”

She scoffed. “Absolutely not. I told him he can go find some other girl to be a wanker around since he’s so desperate to get away from me.”

As you rinsed your face off, you wondered if you should have been grateful that John wasn’t a cheater. As far as you knew, anyway. Sure, everything else he did was … less than ideal, but at least he wasn’t going behind your back. Right?

“Men are shite,” the girl said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You turned the water off and reached for the paper towel dispenser. “Yeah. They are.”

You could only think of one man (besides your father) in your life that wasn’t utter shite.

You left the bathroom after drying yourself off and intended to head straight back to your booth, but the sight of a familiar head of hair gave you pause. It wasn’t like he was the only one with that haircut, and for all you knew, you were about to look creepy as hell walking up to some random bloke and asking if he was someone else. Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from quietly approaching, hesitating before reaching up and tapping the figure’s shoulder. His head turned, his eyes seeking out yours, and for some reason, you felt comfort in being right in your assumption.

Your literature professor, the only man in your life that wasn’t utter shite, got up from his stool and turned to face you fully. “Y/N,” he said, raising his voice a little more than usual so you could hear him over the music, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’m here with my boyfriend,” you told him, and if you weren’t paying attention, you easily would’ve missed the subtle shift in his expression before he schooled it back into a state of neutrality. “I could say the same of you.”

“Professors need a break, too, you know.”

He had a point.

You awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say now. You felt like you were seeing something you shouldn’t; like you were a child finding your teacher in the supermarket. You were both adults, sure, but the scene gave you the same feeling you’d had in the pet store. Encountering him outside of lessons just felt odd.

He seemed to feel the same as you, struggling to find anything to say. Eventually, he opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly interrupted by the sound of a voice behind you. You immediately knew who it was, and the way his gaze hardened confirmed it.

You turned and came face to face with John, who was nothing short of seething. “You said you were going to the restroom.”

“I did.”

“So then why the fuck are you here, chatting up some bloke instead of talking to me?”

“John-“

“Answer me,” he demanded, reaching out to grab your wrist. His grip was much tighter this time, almost bruising, and you winced at the pain that shot through you.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Mr. Turner began. “I’m just her-“

“You’re not a part of this, you fucking wanker,” John spat, glaring at him before looking back down at you. “Why are you talking to him?”

“He’s just my professor,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm. “John, please.”

“Just your professor?” he echoed, ignoring your plea. “Why the hell’re you talking to your professor in a bar, hm? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Don’t do this.”

“Gettin’ him off for a good grade? Is that it?”

You felt sick to your stomach. “John, stop it, now.”

“I always knew you’d do this to me, Y/N! Can never fucking trust you with anyone! Am I not good enough for you? Everything I’ve done, and you’re shaggin’ your goddamn professor?”

“John, shut up!” you shouted, the last bit of your restraint slipping.

With your restraint went his - or what little he’d had left. Eyes wide, he lifted his free hand and quickly swung it in your direction.

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the impact, but it never came. The musician’s guitar stuttered. The drums missed a few beats. You opened your eyes and were met with the sight of Mr. Turner gripping John’s wrist, the veins in his forearm protruding with how hard he was holding it. His brows were furrowed down in rage, and you could see the anger that swam in his eyes, threatening to drown him and you and everyone in that damned bar. “Let go of her,” he said quietly, “and get the fuck out of here. Now.”

You’d never heard him swear like that before.

John stared at him, then at you, then at him again. He yanked his wrist from Mr. Turner’s grasp and finally released your own, turning to leave. Not, though, before saying to you, “Don’t bother coming home.” And then he was gone.

The loud chatter within the bar’s walls had been reduced to mere murmurs by the scene that had just unfolded. You were shaken up - quite a bit. You were used to him exploding, hurting you, but not in public. Never in public. He had gotten good at making sure his outbursts were kept behind closed doors.

“Y/N.”

You jumped at the sound of Mr. Turner’s voice and looked up at him. Your heart was thumping in your ears. You felt shaky. You needed to sit down. He could tell you were on the verge of a panic attack, and he put a hand on your back, murmuring something about finding you a seat as he led you to one of the back booths. It was a more secluded spot, away from the stares and whispers of the other patrons. You were grateful.

Murder was illegal. Murder was illegal. Murder was illegal.

That was the only coherent thought Alex was immediately capable of making. He let you slip into the seat first before slipping in beside you, making sure to keep a respectable distance between the two of you. You stared down at the table, and he stared down at you, thinking of a million things to say and not finding a single one of them appropriate given the circumstances. The more empathetic side of him wanted to dance around the issue, tiptoe around what had just happened, but he knew he’d never get any real answers if he tried to play nice. This couldn’t go on.

“Y/N,” he said again, crossing his arms and setting them down on the table, “how long has this been going on?”

You were silent for a few moments, making him panic internally and wonder if he’d already fucked up in his line of questioning. Eventually, though, your answer came to soothe his worrying brain. “At least a year, maybe more.”

“A year?” Murder was illegal. “Has he been hurting you this whole time?”

“He doesn’t usually hit me. That’s only when he gets really pissed about something.”

“When did this start?”

“When we moved in together. He had always been kind of … kind of rude before that, I guess, but once we saw each other every day, it was like he just snapped. I guess he realised he finally had power over me.”

Of course. If the flat was in his name, then he could kick you out at any point he wanted. One wrong move on your end, and you would be out on the streets. He’d backed you into a corner; a corner you hadn’t left in over a year. Alex’s heart felt heavy. “He’s always been kind of rude, you said. What … what do you mean by that?”

You sighed and sank a little further down in your seat. “He makes comments on my weight sometimes. He never calls me ugly or fat, but the implication that he’s unsatisfied with how I look is always there. He likes to poke fun at the books I like and the music I listen to and the films I watch. It’s like - like he wants me to be a carbon copy of him.”

“Y/N, your weight’s fine,” Alex said with a frown. “You look like you’ve lost weight, actually. I’m worried about you.”

You looked up at him, and the resignation in your eyes added extra weight to his heart. “I’m fine, Mr. Turner.” Even though you clearly weren’t.

Silence fell between the two of you, leaving Alex to swim in the pool of his thoughts. Realistically, the most he could do by the school's terms was offer you resources for abuse and maybe help you get your boyfriend reported to the authorities. The issue, though, was that as far as he knew, your boyfriend wasn't a student. You being one - one of his, for that matter - didn't immediately give him the right to get involved in your private life, even when you were clearly in danger. There was also the matter of whether or not you even wanted him to get involved - that one, he wasn't really sure on. He didn't want to betray your trust and interfere with your relationship if you asked him not to, but he also hated the thought of turning a blind eye to what was happening.

Alex had never been one for violence. That wasn't to say he was a total pacifist, but he typically believed things could be talked out rather than resorting to fists (or worse). When he had seen your boyfriend grab you, though, and prepare to hurt you in public with such ease and no shame, he was pretty sure he was a breath away from knocking that bastard to the floor and giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“He didn’t mean it when he told me not to come home,” you finally said, dragging Alex back out of his thoughts. “I just have to give him some time.”

Time. Of course. “If you’d like, I can drive you home.”

“I would appreciate that, Mr. Turner. Thank you.” He offered you a small smile, and you did your best to mirror it. It didn’t quite reach your eyes, but he appreciated the effort.

You would have given a more genuine smile, but you were embarrassed and still shaken up, and really, all you wanted was to curl up in bed and cry for a while. You knew that, realistically, it wasn't embarrassing to be in an abusive relationship, and you knew that Mr. Turner was one of the last people on the planet that would ever be judgmental over it. You certainly wouldn't judge anyone else for being in one. When it came to yourself, though, it was just ... you couldn't help but wonder if this was all your fault.

You weren't sure how long you and Mr. Turner sat in that booth, but it had at least been long enough that you were sure John had either cooled down or passed out in your flat. The pair of you got up and headed for the door, but not before he stopped to say something to the musician that'd been playing, who was now sitting at a table and nursing a beer. "Sorry I can't stay for the rest o' your set," he told him, "I've got somethin' I need to take care of."

The musician glanced at you, and understanding flickered in his gaze. "Course, Al. Don't even worry about it. I'll see you 'round, yeah?"

"Yeah." Mr. Turner flashed him a smile before turning back to you and leading you outside.

As he took you to his car, you asked, "Who was that?"

"Miles Kane. He's a friend of mine. We go way back."

"Oh." Miles Kane - you did your best to remember his name for later. "I like his music."

"Me, too." He opened the passenger seat of his car for you, and you quietly thanked him and slipped inside. He went around the front of the car and got into the driver's seat, turning the car on and fastening his seatbelt. You did the same.

After you gave him your address, the two of you fell into yet another bout of silence, although this one wasn't as uncomfortable as it'd been in the bar. Mr. Turner fiddled with the radio, eventually settling for a station playing rock songs from the 80s. You recognised a few of them, although you were more familiar with the general tune than the lyrics. You could occasionally see him tapping out the beat against the steering wheel from the corner of your eye.

Unlike the drive to the bar with John, which had felt like an absolute drag, the drive to your flat with Mr. Turner was much more bearable and hardly felt like ten minutes, let alone fifteen. Once his car slowed to a stop in front of your block of flats, you undid your seatbelt, the soft click seeming to echo in his car. "Um, thank you," you said quietly, popping the door open. "I really appreciate it. Sorry if I ruined your night or anything."

"No, no, it's fine," he said quickly, shaking his head. "You didn't ruin anything, alright?"

"Okay." You nodded.

You stepped out of the car, bag in hand, and were about to close the door when he suddenly said, "Y/N."

"Hm?"

"Can I put my number in your phone?"

Ashamedly, your brain immediately jumped to what you deemed the most logical conclusion: he was proving John right and hitting on you. "Huh?"

"So I can check on you, I mean." He smiled apologetically at you when he noticed the brief flash of panic that darted over your features. "I'm not, er ... I'm not like that, I promise."

"Oh. Yeah." Now you felt foolish. You unzipped your bag and fished your phone out, handing it to him. He was quick to create a new contact for himself and handed your phone back to you. His contact name was 'Alex Turner', and you didn't know why it surprised you. Maybe you were just so used to calling him 'Mr. Turner'.

"If anything ever happens, please don't be afraid to contact me, Y/N," he said softly. "I may just be your professor, but I'm also a human being. You can talk to me."

You nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Turner."

"Of course. You should go inside now, it's getting cold out."

After exchanging a final quick goodbye, you headed into your block of flats, taking a silent trip up in the lift to the floor you lived on. You retrieved your keys from your bag and unlocked the front door to your flat, immediately noticing that the lights were still off. You slipped in, shutting and locking the door behind you, and crept through the living room, being careful to not wake a sleeping John on the sofa. As you'd suspected - he must've fallen asleep after he got back. Had he been waiting for you?

You threw a blanket over him before continuing to your bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as you could behind you. You let out a small sigh and leaned against the wood for a few moments, shutting your eyes. This was not how you'd anticipated your night going. You eventually reopened your eyes and turned the light on, depositing your bag into the armchair in the corner. Out of curiosity, you stepped up to the window, peeking through the blinds to see if Mr. Turner's car was still there. He was already gone, though.

After getting changed into your pyjamas for the night, you collapsed onto your bed and held your phone over your face, peering at the screen in the newfound darkness. You kept reading Mr. Turner's name over and over, the image of his quiet rage permanently seared into your brain. You were so used to him being calm and collected at all times - quiet, too. Granted, he hadn't exactly raised his voice, but somehow, that was scarier than him shouting could ever be.

And it was all because of you.

tags: @elexnorislingtxn / @edandmollydeservebetter / @sagegreensimmr / @billyseye / @supernaturalandpain / @not-a-big-slay

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #the car era #arctic monkeys #am #fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #divider by plutism

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leafsbabe · 10 months ago

Text

Justin Herbert - sparks fly (SMUT)

4.3k words, reader is described as not small height wise but the rest is hopefully vague enough

Coming to LA had been a spur of the moment decision but you never regretted it one bit.

You wanted an adventure and one of your friends needed an apartment sitter/somebody to take over their rent for a three month trip overseas so you packed a bag and headed to Hollywood. What you didn’t anticipate was falling in love with the city and so your illegal sublet turned into a small apartment of your own, your vacation into an unpaid internship into a paid internship into a job, and your adventure into a new home.

You didn’t live lavishly like the upper echelon but you could pay your rent, go to large outdoor flea markets on the weekend, and splurge on tacos from the taqueria at the corner while still putting away some money for savings so it was safe to say that life was going pretty damn great.

Justin and you bumped into each other on a hike. Or rather he bumped into you, causing you to stumble, fall, and skim your knee in the least sexy way possible… if there even was a sexy way to get hurt.

But Justin had been sweet, squatting down next to you and making sure you weren't seriously hurt before helping you up. You weren’t a short girl, never had been, but this handsome stranger towered over you in a way that made your thoughts run wild. You couldn’t help but look up at him while he helped you to the nearest bench. He sat down with you and you both drank from your water bottles side by side, sneaking glances at each other from the corners of your eyes.

He was the first to say something, his words stuck in your memory to this day. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

Later you would learn that this was supposed to be a pick-up line and the follow up would have been about him seeing you in his dreams but at that time you had just filmed a scene in a popular tv procedural as scared coffee shop visitor #4 (something you had told everyone back home and no one in LA, because it felt weird to talk about something like that here) so you just blurted that out.

Was it embarrassing? Yes. Did it lead to you two sitting there on that bench talking about shows until the sun started to set? Also yes.

Justin and you exchanged numbers and you even threw caution in the wind and let him walk you to your car, because pretty serial killers wouldn’t talk about the nuances of copaganda for hours and if they did you’d take you chances at knocking him out with your reusable water bottle even if he was over a head taller than you.

That night you sent each other a handful of messages. The next day he even called you after work like a total weirdo. The weekend after he took you to a restaurant in the hills and encouraged you to order something that wasn’t the cheapest salad on the menu because he was going to pay, like a gentleman. You shared a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling grape juice. Him because he drove, you because you wanted that gorgeous man to absolutely rail you and thought any perceived inebriation might prevent that.

He didn’t fuck you but there was a prolonged make out session in his car where he felt up your tits, so you didn’t even feel bad getting yourself off with your trusty vibrator after he dropped you off at your apartment.

Your second date took you outside again with a small hike followed by a picnic. He had packed all kinds of food because he wasn’t sure what you liked and had forgotten to ask. Justin laughed about panicking and buying half a store worth of snacks just so that you’d have something you like. It was so sweet.

He didn’t kiss you like he did after the first date, wild and like he had to hold himself back.

No. His kisses were sweet, hands never wandering above your waist or below you hips. He did accept it when you invited him up to your place for a coffee though. Half a dirty iced chai latte later he had you pressed against your couch, his large hands dangerously close to your ass.

Yet he still didn’t fuck you.

“Next time,” he promised with his head buried in your throat, “after our third date I'll take you home and won’t let you leave my bed for the next three days.”

It was sweet, in a way, and you hadn’t had sex since before you moved to LA anyways so what difference would a few more days make.

“Okay. Tomorrow?” You didn’t even care that it sounded desperate.

“Can’t.” Justin groaned. “We’re leaving for an away game the day after tomorrow and I meant what I said about keeping you in my bed.”

You felt his lips against your pulse as he spoke.

“When do you get back?”

“In four days.”

Fuck. Maybe a few more days did make a difference.

He kissed your neck again, grinding down and showing you just why the wait would be worth it. Hopefully you would remember to charge your vibrator.

He took you to an arcade style place for your third date and it was an absolute blast. With so many options of games to try out you barely had time to look at everything. Justin was a gentleman the entire time, a pattern you noticed during your last two dates. Even though you’d worn a short skirt (and safety shorts because tall girls and mini skirts didn’t always get along) and cozied up to him all afternoon his hands remained off your ass and solidly in PG-13 areas.

You were having fun, challenging each other while laughing the entire time, but you were looking forward to the end of the date when you could finally go home with him. You could feel the vibe shift, growing needier as time went on, with Justin reflecting his own desires back at you.

When you accidentally touched a sticky surface and had to go to the bathroom to wash your hands you had the genius idea to take off the shorts and shove them to the bottom of your bag.

And boy did that idea pay off.

Twenty minutes later you were in the front seat of his car as Justin drove the two of you back to his place with his right hand on your thigh inching higher and higher. He didn’t look at you as it slid under your skirt, eyes on the road, but the smirk on his lips made it clear to you that he knew what he was doing. He was so close to touching you where you needed him the most when the car stopped and he withdrew his hand as you groaned.

“Patience.” He teased.

You climbed out of the car before he could help you out, downright eager now. By the time you reached his front door you could barely hold yourself back. All it took was a split second, the door closed behind you and Justin unceremoniously pressed you against it as his lips landed on yours.

You’ve never been a small girl but the way you had to tilt your head to kiss Justin had a way of making you feel tiny. He bent down, lips never separating from yours, and just picked you up, hands under your skirt somewhere between your plush thighs and your ass. You moaned and he continued kissing you, fingers kneading against your soft skin as he turned around and started waking further into his apartment. God, you hoped his hands would leave bruises.

A noise interrupted you and when you looked to the side you saw a cat looking back at you from where it was perched on a cabinet. Justin didn’t follow your eyes, lip finding your neck instead. “That’s Nova.” He mumbled against your skin. “I’ll introduce you two later.” Then he sucked hard and you forgot everything except him. Somehow you made your way to his bedroom, something you only noticed after he let you fall back against the pillows.

With Justin standing at the edge of the bed looking down on you, you felt even smaller. He was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, showing off his strong muscles. Oh, how you wanted them to hold you down as he took you.

You took off your shirt in one smooth motion, throwing it somewhere to the side of the bed and hoped that Justin wouldn’t mind. Judging by the way he was staring at your tits, he didn’t.

Justin soon followed your lead, stripping his clothes off as you watched. There was no denying that he was smoking hot, his body solid and you couldn't help but press your thighs together in the search of some relief.

“What do you need?”

Need. Not want. You had to take a moment to collect yourself. What did you need?

“I need you to fuck my mouth,” you started, “I need to choke on your dick until I cry and I need you to fuck me until I forget my name and can only scream yours.”

For a moment you worried that it would be too much. That it would be too rough for Justin or that you were too needy. But the look in his eyes showed you that he would give you everything you asked for.

Justin stood in front of the bed, looking down at you while he stroked his dick. Precum gathered at his tip and a whimper left your lips at the sight.

“You want it?” He asked, tone just mocking enough to make you close your legs harder, desperately looking for any kind of friction.

You nodded while looking up at Justin, moving on the bed to get closer to him. Finally you could almost taste him. The pink tip of his dick just barely touched your lips.

“Please.” You begged for him to let you have it.

“Be a good girl and show me you deserve it.”

He gave it to you slowly. One hand holding his dick, the other cradling your cheek, as you took it.

Justin felt heavy in your mouth as you took more and more of him. He was big, yes, but you knew you would manage to swallow all of him. You looked up at him through your lashes until his muscles blocked the view and you could close your eyes, fully concentrating on making sure that Justin would give you everything you needed.

Slowly you pushed yourself to your limit, fitting him into your throat until your lips wrapped around his base. Justin’s dick was a lot to take in and you didn’t know if you could take it should he try and fuck your throat but for a short moment —with him frozen in front of you— you managed to take all of him.

You swallowed around him once, twice, and began to slowly pull back before Justin moved again.

“Fuck.” His voice was deep and low as the hand that had been cradling your cheek moved to now hold the back of your head instead.

You couldn’t help but moan around him, the vibrations around his dick only making him hold onto you tighter.

“Good girl.” His fingers flexed against your head and the combinations of both made you feel dizzy, happy that you could be good for him.

With his other hand Justin reached out and trailed his fingertips from your shoulder down your arm until you realized what he wanted and gave him your hand. He brought it to his thigh, letting you lay your palm flat along the thick firm muscle before covering it with his own.

“If I’m too rough,” Justin started, “or you need me to slow down, if you just want to take a break or stop for any reason, you slap my leg and I’ll stop. Understood?”

Nodding yes didn’t seem to satisfy Justin, instead he used the hand on your head to pull you off him. You barely managed to do that thing with your tongue before he had you looking up at him through your lashes again.

“I need you to say it.”

“Understood.” And oh how wrecked your voice already sounded. There was no doubt in your mind that it would be completely gone by tomorrow.

“Good girl.” He said again, before silencing your whine with his dick.

There was no denying that Justin was strong. He was thick with muscle, powerful, yet you never felt unsafe as he picked up the pace.

He was rough like you had asked him to. Thrusting hard and fast and pushing your head down to meet him halfway. It was maddening. Above you Justin said something but you were far too gone to listen.

It wasn’t until his movements got gentler and he slowly withdrew from your mouth that you tuned back in.

Justin hadn’t come and was still hard, was one thing you noticed, looking between his dick in front of you and his face high above you.

The fact that you had teared up like you had told him you wanted to, was another.

His hands came up to cradle your face and he gently wiped away the tears with his thumbs as you looked at him.

“So pretty.” His voice was soft, gentle as if to not spook you and the thought of him underestimating you made you want to protest but all that ended up happening was you pouting as he stroked your cheeks.

“Aw don’t pout. You can suck it again later. I just didn’t want to come until I got to fuck you.”

He had to bend down to kiss you, this tall man folding in half to reach you where you kneeled on his bed, and the reminder of your size difference made you squirm.

In response Justin kissed you harder, pushing forward until you lost our balance and fell back on the bed. In a fluid motion Justin followed, bracing himself above you as his lips found your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He made his way down your body, leaving behind a trail of kisses as he went. When he reached your chest he departed from his careful line of kisses. The two kisses, sweet little pecks almost, that he pressed to either boob, stood in stark contrast with his hand that bullied it’s way under your body so that he could unhook your bra. He tugged on the bridge until it became loose enough for you to get the hint and shrug it off while he pulled your skirt and embarrassingly soaked underwear down your legs in one smooth motion.

You didn’t even get the chance to think about hiding yourself from Justin before his large hands gently parted your legs enough for him to fit between them. His mouth fit itself against the skin on the side of your knee before he slowly, teasingly, kissed his way up to where you needed him most. Even though you anticipated the first touch of his lips against your pussy it still sent a shock through your body.

Justin didn’t waste any time pretending to tease you any longer. His lips found your clit almost immediately, wrapping around the small bud almost lovingly before sucking. His tongue toyed with it while you moaned his name. Your hands found their way into his hair and you pulled, hard, but not hard enough to dislodge Justin’s wonderful mouth. It took two more moans before he released your clit and wandered lower, dragging his lips along your skin as he moved. The first drag of his tongue was testing, exploring. The second one wasn’t tame at all.

Justin groaned against your pussy and you swore you could feel it through your entire body. He pulled away for a moment and a pitiful whine left your lips at the loss of his mouth, only for it to turn into a moan when you saw him licking his lips before diving in again.

You got lost in the feeling of his mouth on you, the way his lips moved so similarly to when he was kissing you just moments before. His long fingers joined his lips in bringing you pleasure and you couldn’t hold back anymore, grinding against his face until you came with your thighs wrapped around his head.

Justin continued to mouth at your thigh as you started to come down before he stood up from the bed and you took a moment to just watch him. The aftershock of your orgasm still ran through your body and combined with the picture in front of you it felt like a high you never wanted to end. Justin was breathing heavy, his thick chest rising and falling hard. The last bit of sunlight shining through the curtains tinted the bedroom in a soft light making his face glisten and you realized with a jolt that the wetness on his cheeks came from you.

The fading light painted him golden, with his hair shining like a halo, a statue as a tribute to raw desire. His likeness could grace museums across the globe, giving other marbles complexes but instead of the Louvre he stood in his bedroom, looking down at you sprawled across his bed, waiting for him to take you like he had promised.

When Justin finally moved it was in determined long strides. He was a simple man that kept his condoms in the first drawer of his nightstand. Part of you wanted to tell him to forget about them, to fuck you bare until you were dripping with him, but you didn’t want to spook him with your eagernes, so you resigned yourself to bringing it up the next time. Justin passed you on his hunt for protection and you had to crane your neck back to watch him, but the view made up for it. His front was absolutely gorgeous but you had to admit that his backside was quite nice to look at as wel.You were debating whether or not you should reach out to touch him when he turned around, box in hand, before throwing it onto the bed near your head. It still had plastic around it and you couldn’t help but imagine Justin going to the store in preparation of your date, grabbing it not just in case but on purpose. Had he gotten it in preparation for this date? After the second date? After your first? The big box seemed awfully ambitious though. Perfect.

Instead of walking back to the end of the bed and working his way up your body again Justin just skipped straight to holding himself above you and you didn’t waste any time getting your hands into his locks and pulling him down until your lips connected. He kissed you hard and fast while slowly lowering himself until his heavy body pressed yours into the mattress. It felt so easy to let yourself be blanketed by his warmth, his solid body so close to yours that you could feel every inch of his desire.

“Fuck.” He exclaimed as he pulled away from the kiss. Justin didn’t venture far though, staying close enough that you could feel the strands of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Can you…” He nodded towards the box.

You nodded, eager, before reaching for the box and struggling to rip it open. When it finally popped open it did so in spectacular fashion, spilling an avalanche of little foil packets all over the bed and your body.

“Oh.”

You didn’t know which one of you laughed first but it took some time before the two of you calmed down again. Justin helped you clear the mess, swiping the countless packets towards the free side of the bed. It should feel weird, at least a little bit, now that the tension between Justin and you got broken. For a second you feared that your clumsiness had turned him off completely but then he kissed you again, slow and deep and like he wanted to devour you.

One of his hands reached for the pile of condoms while the other moved up your side, cupping one of your boobs when he reached them. His thumb barely grazed your nipple before Justin moved away but he still managed to pull a moan from your lips.

“Ready?” He asked, looking at you with hungry eyes.

“Yes.” You needed him so badly. “Please.”

The first push of him inside you was careful but determined. Justin gave you aloof himself until he was buried to the hilt, pausing once he was fully inside you and giving you time to adjust to his large size. Youwanted to tell him to move,to fuck you until you felt him days fromnow, butbefore you could ask-beg-demand he silenced you with another seering kiss. You learned why when he pulled away from the kiss, still buried deep inside you.

“I need to be careful with you.” He talked low, almost whispering. “Don’t want you to be sore when I fuck you again later.”

It made sense. Afterall Justin had promised to keep you in his bed for days. But with him filling youtube so perfectly, there was simply no room left for logical thinking.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he started to move. Slow, meticulous thrusts that didn’t feel overwhelming at first but drove you wild after just a few movements of his hips. There was something otherworldly in the way he managed to hit all the places that needed to be hit, filling you up perfectly again and again and again. Justin stayed close to you while he fucked you, his hips grinding in deep and putting just enough pressure on your clit to send sparks of pleasure through your whole body.

Your hands tightened in his hair, making him groan before dipping down and encapsulating one of our nipples with his hot, wet mouth.

“Jus- Justin.”

His teeth grazed against the soft flesh of your boob teasingly before his tongue delved down, soothing the hard peak between his lips in gentle laps. Justin groaned when you tugged on his hair and the sensation of it vibrating against your skin just made you tighten your grip further. There was no denying that you needed him. Him and his soft mouth and his hard dick and his strong body pressed against yours. This perfect wave of pleasure just kept building with every single movement but you couldn’t reach your high.

“Just—” He bit down hard enough for it to sting before his tongue traced the slight indents. “Please.”

You weren’t above begging but your fucked out brain couldn’t think of any more words. Thankfully he seemed to understand what you needed even without your saying it.

“Fuck. Okay.” He lifted himself a little bit higher, chuckling when you whined at the loss of his weight and warmth. “You asked for this.”

He sounded just the right amount of condescending when you clenched around him and he rewarded you with a “good girl”.

You didn’t last long after Justin started fucking you properly, rough and fast like you had wanted him to. The power behind his thrusts was enough to move you on the bed, closer and closer towards the headboard every time your bodies connected. He had stopped holding back and made you come with only a handful of thrusts.

When you came to it was with Justin holding himself above your body —breathing hard— and your still shaking thighs wrapped around his hips. Part of you felt disappointed for missing what he looked like when he came but you knew there would be more than enough orgasms for you to catch a glimpse.

It took you a while to feel secure enough to remove your legs from him. After you did so Justin carefully pulled out and disposed of the condom. While he went to get a towel to help clean you up you were left in his bed. It took some energy to sit up but it didn’t hurt. You felt empty but that could be changed soon enough. 15 minutes. Maybe 20. Depending on when Justin wanted to go again.

Speaking of. Justin returned to his bedroom, still gloriously naked, holding water bottles in one of his hands and what looked like a washcloth and a towel in the other. You didn’t feel self conscious as he helped you clean up. He had seen every part of you already anyway.

He offered you a shirt of his to cover up but you didn’t mind being bare before him. There was the hint of a love bite starting to form on your chest and you hated the thought of covering up all his hard work. Still, you made a mental note to take him up on his offer later. You had a feeling that a shirt that fit his large frame would swallow you up and you wanted nothing more than to live out the big men’s shirt moment that had been denied you for so long.

Instead you curled up with him, his blanket half draped over your bodies while you just laid there, enjoying the closeness between you. The energy between Justin and you continued to be magnetic, even after giving in to your desires, and you found yourself unable to tame a wide smile.

“Happy?” Justin looked at you with a soft smile on his lips.

“Hmmm. Very.” You let your eyes wander for a moment. “Want to make out?”

Instead of verbally answering Justin just cupped your face and brought your mouths together in a saccharine kiss.

#justin herbert #football imagine #nfl imagine #football smut #nfl smut #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert smut #...so this is twenty-five

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ultralightpoe · 11 months ago

Text

Full House lll - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Omg. Me? Staying on schedule? Never.

Word Count: 10112

Warnings: None? Idk.

Part One HERE and Part Two HERE

(Thank you for the gif @psychecreations )

Enjoy!

“When’s the first doctors appointment?” Nancy asks, walking up to where you were currently standing at your jobs wait station. You jump, dropping the order pad you had been scribbling in as you turn to find her leaning on the wall.

“What? Why are you here?”

“I was craving chicken and didn’t want to hear Steves kfc imitation. So we decided to come here.” She smiles, rubbing her stomach ever so slightly. “Plus it meant I got to check on you.”

“Oh I’m fine.” You lie, forcing a smile on your face as she narrows her eyes.

It’s been 4 days since the Christmas fiasco, and 4 days since you realized Eddie was leaving. You tried to pick yourself back up the day of Christmas but ended up telling everyone that you were really sick and should shut the party down early. They had all gone to Steves and you were truly embarrassed to think of what they might have been saying about you.

God, did you have to ruin everything you touched?

“You never answered my question.”

“Oh? I was just sick. It’s not a serious bug or anything. I just didn’t want to get you guys sick on Christmas. That would have been bad” you lie again, feeling a coiling feeling in your gut. “Why don’t you go sit?”

“Y/n, girl I love you. But you’re showing.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. Especially in this waitressing uniform.” It was true. Normally the old school 70s uniform fit you like a glove, falling just to your thighs and it made tips so much easier. Right now? It was on the tighter side…… which made tips even easier because your boobs looked great but you felt terrible about everything.

“Does he know?” Nancy asks, and you have to stop yourself from telling her or shove off. After a moment of silence she seems to take that for an answer. “Y/n….. Eddie needs to know.”

“Why? So I can trap someone else?” You laugh bitterly. “That poor guy has already put up with enough of my shit. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go grab tables.”

You walk past her, not giving her a chance to argue as you completely avoid looking to their tables direction and move to your own section of the floor to greet a new table.

Pam, one of your favorite regulars, sees you and greets you with a smile. “You never work Friday nights!”

You always spent Friday nights with Eddie and the girls for movie night. But Eddie ran and you needed to make rent so tonight Max was watching them.

“Starting now I will be. You want your usual babe?”

“You know it!.” She giggles.

Steve tried saying bye before they left and you pretended you didn’t see him as you took orders, by the end of the night your feet were killing you and you all but limped inside to where Max was sitting at the table doing college homework with her headphones on.

Either she didn’t have them loud or she was on edge, your guess being a bit of both, she knows you're there and turns to you when you enter the kitchen.

“Thank you so much Max.” You mumble, pulling out the tip money you had set aside for her. “I’m sorry I ran late.”

“No need to pay.” She smiles, pushing the money away. “I like spending time with them.”

That tight feeling in your stomach is back, digging in as you stare at the redhead. She had been part of the reason you chose Hawkins, Billy had (in one of his rare good moments) described the way Max seemed to blend in and find a home here. He told you about the friends she made and how she managed to grow into a brave person and you wanted that for your own. So, assuming she was gone, you moved out here. Little did you know you find her soon enough along with an entire group of people connected to your ex.

You had always been told max was dead.

Max had always been told Billy was dead.

You didn’t know how she figured you out until Eddie told you about VECNA and Lucas told you about his girlfriends sight for things.

“I…. I saw the tickets.” She admits, blush traveling her cheeks as you move to make a cup of tea. The cupboard was still broken and you couldn’t bear to look at it.

“What tickets?”

“You left your folder out on the table. I saw that you were figuring out where to go.” Max admits and you can’t help but tense.

“I just….. I don’t want the girls being surrounded by…..”

“Billy?”

“Yes…..” you admit, still keeping your back to her as you boil water. “And Eddie. I just don’t want them knowing that he left them. They adore him too much.”

Coward. Coward. COWARD.

“I’m not a mom, but I can get your urge to protect them.” Max mumbles. “But what if they end up hating you for taking them away.”

“Then they have someone to blame. I’d rather them blame me than themselves. It is my fault anyways.” You admit, tears springing into your eyes. “Anyways. Take the money, go have fun.”

“Do you need me again this week? I saw that you work on New Year’s Eve.”

“No. You should be going out with your friends.”

“The boys have a start of the year campaign and El is taking a trip with Hopper. I’m free.” She laughs, trying to break the tension built up. “I’ll be here at 2.”

You can’t get the words thank you out because of how tight your throat is, so you just mouth them as she grabs the money and passes.

Steve could not stop laughing when he saw Eddie’s face the day he brought the car into the shop, leaning over on his knees to catch his breath as he wheezed out.

Dylan, the other mechanic, kept looking over to watch the scene unfold as Eddie tried to focus on his friends car.

“Harrington.”

“Dude I know- it’s just that your face is so purp-hahaha.” Another fit of laughter and Eddie is debating throwing his drill at him. He was in no shape to be dealing with him today.

Truth was Eddie had barely gotten a wink of sleep, he couldn’t manage to. Not used to not having you beside him, or not having the girls night light and soft lullabies. It had been 5 days since he saw you and he was beginning to lose his mind and resolve.

Almost every night he nearly talked himself into going back, then he remembered Motleys broken cries as they carted him off and the way she clung to your hip. The way she screamed for her dad as Eddie attacked him.

Monster monster monster.

“Gotta give it to Hargrove. He knows how to punch.”

“Yeah well, hope he had his fun.” Eddie snaps, leaning back to make sure he adjusted the part correctly.

“Did you get him back?”

“I got a few licks in.” Eddie mumbles, feeling guilty about the pride that washes over him as he remembers the way he beat Billy's face in. That was motleys dad. As much as he enjoyed hitting him he probably just scarred the Metalhead for life.

“Oh a few licks.” Steve scoffs, moving to take a seat on the stool at Eddie’s workstation. “I know how strong you are Munson. You got more than a few licks in.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because Motley was right there! She’s gonna hate me forever.” Eddie scoffs.

“Oh you mean more than they already do?” This pulls Eddie’s attention, he had been doing so good about not asking but he was dying to know. What had they said? Were they happy he’s gone? Mad that he fought Billy?

“What’d they say?”

“Not much of anything. Nancy knows something is up but your girl is keeping her lips sealed pretty well. I didn’t even know about your fight with jackass until I saw your face.”

“But you said they were mad.”

“Yeah man, you missed Christmas and just dipped. Leaves a bad impression.”

“Oh whatever. They are better off, I just ruin everything.”

“Oh. My. God.” Steve gasps, looking at Eddie like he’s figured everything out. “You’re self sabotaging!”

“What?!”

“Yeah! You think you’re the bad guy and so you’re trying to run away which is just making you even more of a bad guy which means my wife can stop threatening to shave your head.”

“I….. no man you don’t get it.”

“I do get it. I get it more than anyone else and let me be the first to tell you that you’re being a massive idiot.” He sighs, standing up. “Motley was waiting by that window to spot you that entire day.”

“S……she was?”

“Yeah Munson. She was.”

“I just….. I don’t want to be the one holding them back. I don’t want her to hate me.”

“Did you ever think that maybe Motley chose you? Like you chose Wayne?” Steve asks, watching Eddie deflate before his eyes before turning to the car. “I’m not paying by the way. Consider my advice enough.”

“Ass.”

Eddie spends the day of New Year’s Eve by the phone, fighting the urge to call.

What would he say? How would he explain?

No. Don’t call. This is for the better.

Yes. Call. Just pick the phone just for the chance to hear your voice.

God damn when did life get so complicated?

“What are you doing?” Wayne asks, watching eddie from his spot on the couch. “Quit wearing down my carpet.”

The carpet has been worn down since Eddie had moved in, but he chooses not to comment instead he sits by the phone, keeping his pinky on the handle of the plastic and glaring at it.

“You expecting a call?”

“No.” Eddie groans, rubbing his chest to try and relieve some of the pain built up. God he missed you guys. “Fuck. I’m gonna go smoke.”

He rushes to the back porch before Wayne could argue, hearing the old man laugh as he slams the door.

There is a dog out there when he exits, chewing on a stick found from the trees and sitting right by the fence. Upon looking a little closer he sees that the dog actually seems caught under the fence, like he was trying to sneak in.

“Jesus.” He murmurs, keeping the joint between his lips as he walks up, socked feet stepping on sticks and stones making him grunt out and try walking on his tippy toes.

He looks back with a smile, expecting a giggle from one of the girls at his weird walk before he realizes he’s alone. Shit.

The dog is panting patiently when Eddie comes up, and the man reaches a hand to let him sniff before moving to help. The dog chooses to kiss at his arm, tongue lapping at the skin as Eddie lifts the fence to try and help free him.

“Why you sneaking in pal?” He grunts, bending the fence. “You hungry?”

Within moments the dog is out, jumping up and kissing at his face for being rescued. “God. Motley would love you.”

“Shhhhh Ziggy.” Motley whispers to her baby sister, pulling her closer to the corner. The way daddy eddie set up her room was perfect.

He had put her bed in the center which left a small corner by her nightstand hidden from the door.

Over the past week she had looked for Daddy Eddie’s number, finding it sprawled under the label emergency numbers where he had written it under Wayne.

It was so weird that Daddy Eddie called his dad Uncle Wayne. Adults were so confusing.

Before you had left for your shift that night you made sure to wish Motley a happy new year and made her promise to behave. Little did you know that she had crossed her fingers behind her back.

The second you were gone she dashed to grab the closest phone, pulling it into her room and hiding it as Max struggled to cook nuggets for dinner.

Later that night when Auntie Max was reading on the couch Motley tiptoed to Ziggys room before sneaking her sister out of her crib and tip toeing back as Ziggy giggles happily.

“Sissy…” She giggles, pulling at Motleys cheeks happily. “Zigsy.”

“No your Ziggy silly. I’m motley.” She corrects as she shuffles with her sister in an awkward half hold half walk carry until they are in the corner. “Okay Ziggy. Sissy needs your help. You remember the plan?”

“Zigzy!”

“Oh boy…..”

The phone rings late, and Eddie sits up in the couch to lean his upper body to answer it, stressed and annoyed.

The stray dog lifts their head, huffing at being woken up and tilting to hear, one ear shooting up. “Easy Zeppelin.”

The dog barks, and Eddie likes to think he enjoyed the name as he picks the phone up. “Munson residence.”

God it felt weird saying that again.

“DADDY!” Motley whispers, sounding scared. Eddie is instantly up, standing on his feet and swiping at his face to wake up a little more.

“Motley? What’s wrong baby?”

“Someone’s trying to get in daddy.”

“Get in where? Where are you?” He’s already reaching for his keys, heart beating through his ears as his hands shake.

“We’re at home.” She whines.

“Where’s mommy?”

“At work!” Fuck. “Okay. Okay. Just hide. Just like daddy told you, remember? If anything happens, hide. You know where Ziggy is?”

“She’s with me.”

“Good girl. Get under your bed or in your closet. I’ll be right there.” He mumbles, calling out to Wayne to grab the phone before booking it out of the trailer.

He gives no time for the van to warm up, tearing out of the trailer park so quickly he’s sure he hit someone’s patio chair, mumbling under his breath a panicked “fuckfuckfuck”

The van is uneven as Eddie pulls in quickly, shifting gears to park so hard it makes a grinding sound before he is swinging the door open and tearing out. His feet hit the gravel before the grass as he rushes to the front door, using his shoulder to shove it open harshly.

A scream tears out in to the air at his entrance before a book is thrown at him which makes him yell out at whoever is in the house.

“EDDIE?!”

“MAXINE?!” He snaps, blinking at her. “What the fuck you doing?”

“What am I doing?! What are you doing?! You physco!”

“Motley said that someone was trying to break in!”

“I put Motley to bed an hour ago.” Max grunts, confusion lacing her features.

“You’re babysitting?”

“Obviously.”

“But her car is in the front.” Eddie felt like he was going crazy. “And since when does she work nights?!”

“Her car wouldn’t start so she took the bus today.” Max sighs, rolling her eyes. “And she needs extra cash. Probably for the plane tickets to get out of here.”

“Tickets out of….” Before Eddie can process her words any further there is a small pair of eyes looking around the corner drawing his attention.

Ziggy moves quickly, coming around the corner with a very excited giggle, walking to him as fast as her little feet would allow. “Da-Ed-ay!”

“Hey there baby girl.” He smiles, picking her up and swooping her into his arms to kiss all over her face. It was odd, just how much he missed this and it seemed like she had gotten so much bigger in the 4 days he missed.

“I swear to god I put her to bed. How did she get out of her crib?!” Max glares, right as the culprit behind it all comes rushing out to run at Eddie.

“I knew you’d come! I knew it daddy!” She giggles, running at him and throwing her arms around him tightly. “You came back!”

“Motley?” He starts, brain beginning to process what she was saying. “Did you…. Lie to get me here?”

“I did!” She smiles, peering up at him with big doe eyes. “I lied daddy! And now you’re here and you can take all my Barbie’s!”

“If you know lying is bad and you’ll get punished, why did you do it?” He asks, pulling her off before squatting to her level. “Metal head, that was very dangerous-“

A gust of air leaves him as her arms wrap around his neck tightly, tears springing from her eyes. “I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore.”

“Motley I’m not mad, that was just dangerous and it scare-“

“No! About Billy. I’m sorry daddy.” His heart plummets, his brain racking to figure out what she was talking about. Why was she sorry?

“No. No I’m sorry.” He sighs, turning to see Max staring at them intently. “Hey max. Think you can take Ziggy for a moment?”

“Sure thing mop head.” The redhead scoops Ziggy up causing the young toddler to scream and kick, reaching chubby fingers out for Eddie. As much as he wanted to take her back he had to focus on Motley.

“Come sit.” He nods his head, leading her to the kitchen table sitting in the chair beside hers and angling it so they were facing. “Listen….. Daddy ha- Well I have been feeling really bad about Christmas Eve. I never meant to do that, or to attack your dad in front of you.”

“But-“

“I owe you a big apology for that Motley. And I don’t know what you’re feeling sorry about, pretty girl, but it’s not your fault and you have no reason to be sorry.” He murmurs, swiping the tears that fall from her cheek. “You have done nothing wrong.”

“I told Billy he couldn’t come for Christmas Daddy!” She blurts, her tears hit against his thumb as he keeps swiping her cheek. “I’m sorry!”

“No no no. You don’t be sorry.” He moves to pick her up, sitting her on his lap with her face pressed into his chest as he rubs his palm over her hair to try and soothe her. “Let’s just take a deep breath, okay? Then you can tell me what happened.”

There’s something coiling in his gut at her tears. Pain, anger, sadness. He truly could not tell, but he kept her close and rocked her back and forth to let her cry. When she finally calmed down enough to talk she started telling him.

“He was really mean daddy. And he kept t-telling me that y-you we’re gonna replace me-“ her body racks with sobs again. “He said you didn’t want me. A-and I was upset! But he w-was mean to you-“

“Easy.” He whispers, wiping her cheek once more. “You gotta breathe pretty girl.”

“He was m-mean. Said mean things about you daddy and mean things ab- I’m sorry! I-“ her sobbing gets worse and Eddie shushes her, choosing to rock her back and forth and keep her in his tight embrace. “And you w-were ma-you were madatme.”

“No no. I was never mad.” He sighs. “Daddy was never mad at you.”

“You were.”

“No, I was just scared. I…. Daddy didn’t want you hating him.” Eddie explains. “I just wanted to give you space. Having 2 dads is confusing. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“He hit you.”

“Did he ever hit you motley?” Eddie asks sternly, squeezing her a bit in comfort.

“He spanked me.” That feeling in his stomach settled on rage.

“That’s not fair. And you shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“Please don’t leave again.” As much as he wanted to promise her that he wouldn't, that wasn’t a promise he could make. You probably hated him, and he would have to talk this out with you first.

“Let’s get you to bed yeah? Daddy will tuck you in.”

“I want mama.”

“Well she’s at work.” He mumbles against her hair.

“Can we go get milkshakes?”

“I don’t know…..” it was almost 10. Then again it was New Year’s Eve and he didn’t want you taking the bus home so this would give him an excuse to go pick you up. “Only if they have chocolate.”

“You already know they have chocolate!” She giggles, and he can’t stop the way his heart seems to light up.

It was a busy night, and the smell of the jalapeno nachos all your tables were ordering was making you nauseated and angry. You wanted to throw up, maybe cry, maybe throw up then cry.

Apparently a town next to Hawkins lost power so a bunch of people were driving to this place to have a good new years which meant you were going to be stuck here forever. You found yourself stressing about the bus’ schedule as you dashed to run food.

This is what you had been doing when you spotted him. Running a tray of jalapeño nachos to your table, keeping it a safe distance from your nose as you thought about the fact that you might have to walk, and there he was.

Standing in the doorway, leather jacket and wide eyes, as you caught him looking for you. And he was holding Ziggy.

What the fuck Maxine?!

“Y/n get a move on!” Your manager calls and you snap out of it, moving to deliver the tray as the host seats Eddie.

You hear Motley call out “mommy!” And instantly knew that they would now be sat in your section. Did it make you a bad mother if you admitted you would rather die than face him tonight?

“Mama!” Your daughter calls, making you look over as she slides in, Eddie sitting right next to her and then you are forced to confront this. You should have learned about birth control. Better yet maybe you should have practiced the art of condoms more.

Thinking of all the ways you could have prevented this situation as you gaze at your daughters adorable smiling face. God she was beautiful….. still should have used a condom.

“What a surprise. I could have sworn I left you guys with Max.” You try to smile, avoiding looking at Eddie as Ziggy reaches for you. You grab her gently, bouncing her on your hip and she starts playing with your hair clip.

“I got daddy!” Motley admits proudly, pointing to Eddie which makes you look at him. Your heart thumping against your chest, adrenaline rushing through you as he stares at you with those god damn brown eyes.

“Munson.” You greet, turning back to Motley. “Girls, stay in the booth for a moment. Okay? I’m gonna talk to him outside.”

You walk off after that, leaving Eddie no choice but to follow as he jumps up and runs to catch up. The winter hair hits you, and you immediately wrap your arms around yourself to keep some of the warmth, the crappy waitress outfit doing nothing for you.

The second you hear your name fall from his lips you whirl, slapping him in the chest to push him back. “What the fuck is the matter with you munson?!”

“I…. Give me a moment to explain, please.”

“Explain?! EXPLAIN?!” A bitter laugh splits from your lips. “Look. I get it. My life was a bit too messy and fucked up, I’d run too. But you bringing the girls here is just making it worse. You’re going to get their hopes and it’s gonna crush them.”

“Too messy? Who said anything about it being too messy?”

“WHY ELSE WOULD YOU RUN?!” Your voice raises louder than you thought it would, but you don’t back down. “And I don’t appreciate you talking to my daughters without me. Now I gotta tell them-“

The words ‘my daughters’ sound wrong, and you can’t fight the disgust that coats you as you trail off, eyes widening as he stares back at you with a set jaw. “I just mean….. I get why you left okay? My life is chaos and you were really nice for staying and pretending like it was fine. But those girls…. They can’t know you left cause of that. I was hoping, as shitty as it sounds, that after a couple years they’d forget. Y’know?”

You are swiping at your cheeks as tears stream down your face, trying not to look at him. You catch him moving up, his hands outstretched, but you move backwards so he can’t grab you. “Eds. Y-you should just go. Okay? It’ll be fine.”

“No it won’t-“

“It will. I’ll be fine. I won’t be mad-“ then his arms are around you, pulling you in quickly as he shoves your head into his chest and you get to inhale his scent once more. Doing your best not to outright sob.

“I was the mess.” He blurts. “I was scared, okay? I was scared that Billy was gonna turn everyone against me, and I was scared that I ruined Motleys Christmas.”

You scoff, trying to pull away, not really believing the excuse. Before you can fully move he wraps an arm around your waist, his other hand moving to your jaw to drag your eyes up to his own. “I was scared. I was a coward.”

“But-“

“No buts. I didn’t leave cause I thought you were a mess, baby I think you’re perfect and your daughters are so fucking precious to me. I…. You really thought I was running cause I couldn’t handle it?”

“I just-“

“Y/n!” Your boss calls from the door, looking exasperated. “You gettin sick again? Need to go? Or you wanna get paid so you can afford maternity leave?”

You tense again under Eddie’s touch, stomach curling as you try and take a step back while Eddie’s brows knit in confusion before he turns to glare at your boss. “She’s sick.”

“Fine. Take her home. Just have to transfer tables.” The man snaps, turning to walk back in before Eddie is whirling on you.

“Am I crazy or did he just say maternity leave?”

“Eddie….” You sigh, feeling saliva build up as you panic. He watches you, taking a step back just as you lean forward to puke.

The car ride is silent. Not the serene kind of quiet and more so the anxiety inducing type.

You had no clue what to say to him at this point. Suddenly everything just seemed to….. silly. You’re reaction and his reaction. You should have just called. Why hadn’t you called?

No, he should have called.

You were being a decent person and giving him space and “mama?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I sleep with you and daddy tonight?”

“Ya!” Ziggy yells, making Eddie chuckle under his breath as he leans to turn the heater in the car up. It had been forever since you had ridden in this van, since he deemed it unacceptable to drive the girls around in since it lacked seatbelts or a backseat. Even now everytime he braked he means a hand out to block the girls even with Ziggy in your lap.

“I don’t know…”

“Please! Please please.”

“We will talk about it when we get home.”

Only there was no talking about it, the second you got home with the girls Motley ran to throw away her to go milkshake cup then dashed to your bed quickly which turned into a screaming fit when you tried to tell her no.

The word condom just kept circling your mind as you finally just told her to lay down, she did so and Ziggy soon made her appearance to crawl onto the bed.

Eddie takes off his shoes. Moving to lay with the girls as you turn off one of the lights so the room was dark enough for them to fall asleep, and then you shuffle to the bathroom to shower before bed so you didn’t smell like grease and beer.

It wasn’t even 10 minutes before you heard the door open and shut softly, you turn already knowing he is heading for the shower and watch as the curtain opens lightly.

Normally he would jump right in like he belonged there which would make you laugh, tonight he had a questioning gaze, trying not to over step. You give him a small nod and then the curtain is pushed aside and he dives in, still in his shirt and jeans.

“Edward-“ you warn before his lips are on yours in a searing kiss. He keeps one hand on your jaw to keep your lips connected as his other wraps around your back to keep you close as the water runs over both of you getting his clothes soaked. By the time you pull back he’s already working his way down your neck with kisses as you earn him again “clothes.”

The hand holding your jaw moves to cover your mouth quickly as he peers at you, giving you a fake angry expression that has you laughing. “Do not wake our kids.” He whispers before stepping back to undress.

The jeans take a moment to shuck off since they were wet but the second he is free Eddie dives for you again, showing up just how much he missed you.

You sit with him on the floor of the kitchen by the fridge, using the light above the oven as your only source of light while you both snack, keeping cuddled together in nothing but your robes.

Nothing has been said yet, and you were just fine with that, exhausted and happy that he was there. But he has to ruin it, of course he does.

“I’m still sorry.” He murmurs, scraping the cream of one side of an Oreo using the empty side.

“I am too. I think we’re both incredibly stupid right now.”

“You’re telling me.” He blushes. “I just…. There was a time in my life when I hated Uncle Wayne. I had this image in my mind that he was trying to tear me away from my dad. Fuck I just wanted to be with my dad, I looked up to him whether he beat me or not and- the way I treated Wayne and the way I hated him….. my dad didn’t help, everytime I went back with him my mom and I just ended right back up at Wayne’s with more bruises than last time. And when she passed I was the only one there to inflict it. Wayne for him arrested and I swore my world was ending, swore I would never talk to Wayne again.”

“You thought that was what was going on with Motley? That she felt like you were tearing her and her dad apart?”

“Yes and no. I just was trying to prevent that from happening, I didn’t want her to have to experience that choice.” He whispers, picking at the robe. “I just wanted to protect her.”

“She wanted to protect you too.” You whisper back. “That’s love.”

“Billy told her that…. That I was gonna try and replace her.” He gulps, and you stop smiling instantly. “And now that you’re pregnant, and as happy as I am because I am so happy, I need to make sure she knows that I’m not trying to replace her.”

“We’ll make it work.” You mumble, laying your head on his shoulder. “We always do”

He hums out, laying his head on top of yours and sitting in the silence for a moment before you break it once more. “Where are your rings?”

“Haven’t worn them since I got arrested.” He answers, holding up his bare hands. “My fingers were too bruised and swollen at first, then I just couldn’t care to put them on.”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go to bed..”

“Give me five more minutes.” He whispers, turning his head to kiss your own, keeping his nose pressed into your hair.

“Why?”

“I just…. I just want to be near you for a little longer.”

The sun peaks through the curtains, hitting Eddie right in the face which in return makes him groan out, moving the pillow around to try and block it. I’m his attempt to move Ziggy wiggles around, giving a displeased noise that her dad woke her up from sleeping before moving to lay right on his chest.

Motley does not move an inch, mouth wide open and eyes sealed shut, Eddie has to reach a hand out to poke her and make sure she’s not dead.

She wrinkles her nose, moving closer and shoving her face in your pillow, staying peacefully asleep.

You’re sitting at the edge of the bed, and he can only blink at you trying to straighten his eyesight as he watches you zip up your work boots. (For some reason I imagine go go boots with the 70s look. I don’t know guys. I….. I have no clue).

“You going to work?” He blurts, making you jump.

“Sorry, yeah. Max will be here soon to watch the girls. We agreed on it last night before I left.” You mumble, moving to grab your apron.

“I can watch em….” He whispers, staring at you. The way the sun from the window hits you makes you look angelic.

“Okay.” You smile, moving to kiss Motley and Ziggys heads before you move to walk away. Fully offended Eddie snatches your hand and draws you back, annoyed at the shit eating grin on your face.

“Baby,” he whines making you let out a small laugh and lean down to kiss his lips before rushing to leave.

He lays with the girls for a little longer making sure the blanket is covering all three of them before the day truly has to start and he forces himself to get up. Setting Ziggy down without waking her up was a difficult task but he managed, shuffling to the bathroom to change into todays clothes, thankful that he no longer has to wear all the shit clothes he left at Wayne’s when he originally moved out.

Upon exiting the bathroom he nearly trips over Motley, who had been sitting in front of the door. “What are you doing Metalhead?”

“You took forever…” she whines, wrapping herself around his calf which makes him smile. “I wanna stay with you.”

“Okay,” he answers, moving down to peel her off his leg and letting her climb up for a piggy back. “You’re gonna help me make breakfast then.”

“Waffles?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” He smirks, walking down the hall as the front door opens to reveal Max.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” She rushes out, face red from running. “I woke up a little late and-“

“It’s no problem. I’m here if you had other things to do.” Eddie offers. “Or you can stay and have some breakfast?”

“Sounds great. I’m kinda ignoring the rest of the group right now.” She explains, setting her bag down and following them into the kitchen. Eddie gets Max set up at the table, trying to set Motley with her but the girl wiggles and whines so he allows her to stay.

He listens to Max rant about the group as he moves around to make waffles, enjoying the easy feeling he gets being here. God why did he ever leave home?

“-And Lucas is just always set out to fight Erica. You’d think he had a crush on Dustin and wanted to date him. You know? I get it, your baby sister starts dating your closest friend. A little weird. But get over it!”

“I think Uncle Dustin and Auntie Erica are so cute!” Motley adds which makes Eddie chuckle a bit.

“Lucas is upset because he always thought they were in agreement that Erica was annoying.” He explains, bending down to set Motley down and bring the food to the table. “But it’s been months. Time to move on.”

“Exactly!” Max sighs right as Ziggy comes pounding in with an angry look.

“Alone….” She whines and Eddie smiles at her. “Aweee did you wake up alone? My poor little baby.” He coos, picking her up and bringing her close to kiss before setting her on his lap to help her eat. He already knew she would not be into the high chair based on the way even Motley was clinging to him.

Even now, as she used a spoon to shove waffles in her mouth, she kept a hand on his own arm to keep him close.

“I’m gonna work on mamas car today.” He explains. “I’ll be right outside. So maybe you girls can stay in here and keep Max company.”

“I wanna stay with you.” Motley whines, giving him puppy dog eyes.

“No it’s too cold. You stay in here. Okay?” And then Eddie gave her his puppy dog eyes. Oh yeah, can’t beat dads game.

She groans and looks at Max who smiles in return. “I’ve been practicing my barbie voices just for you.”

“Fine! But barbie is married to G.I. Joe! Ken is the villain. We’re not arguing about it again.”

“But isn’t it Barbie and Ken? Wouldn’t Joe be the villain?”

“Maxine.” Motley warns, slamming her tiny hand on the table.

“Fine. Got it.”

It didn’t last long.

Eddie had put on his mechanic suit, trying to keep warm as he took a look at what was going on with your car. 15 minutes in Motley came out wearing her snowsuit and smiling. “Look daddy! I can help!”

“I thought I said to stay inside-“ a laugh breaks out when she takes off the hood of the snow suit to reveal that she tied a bandana over her head like a hat. “That’s not how you tie it. Come here.”

He helps her tie it like his, telling her to sit a little closer to the grass as he keeps working, making sure the radio is on a station she would like as he does so.

By the time you get home she is making snow angels in the snow of the lawn as he curses under his breath.

“What’s going on?” You ask, making him jump and hit his head on the hood of your car. “Oh! I’m so sorr-“

“It’s good. I’m good.” He laughs, letting you fuss over him anyways. He takes his chance to kiss at you before you are pulling back.

“You are covered in car nastiness-“

“You mean grease and oil?” He laughs, keeping you trapped in his arms to rub his cheek on your shoulder. You yell out playfully, still trying to escape as he does so.

“Does this mean you guys are good?” Steve appears, dustin behind him. “Are you done being mad at me Y/n?”

“I was never mad at you!” Eddie keeps his arms around you as you turn to look at Steve, making sure Motley is good.

“Yes you were. I waved at you the other night and you completely ignored me.”

“I didn’t see you wave.” You reply and Eddie can’t help but laugh.

“I called your name!”

“It was a busy restaurant, how am I supposed to hear everything.” You scoff, pulling from Eddie’s arms and flipping your hair. “Come on Motley. Let’s go inside.”

“Just admit you saw me wave!” Steve groans, following you to the door before Motley turns to shove him and close the door in his face. “Rude!”

“Steve, did you just get beat up by a kid?” Dustin laughs.

“It’s Eddie’s kid. Does that count?”

“My kids are great!”

Things took a moment to get back to normal, but that was to be expected.

Eddie found the folder of all your research on places to go, running his fingers over the math you sprawled across the pages to figure out how you would afford it, he promptly threw it in the trash bins outside.

Motley stayed glued to Eddie as much as she could, and in the mornings when he had to get up for work she made sure to wake him up and give him a kiss by the door making sure that he swore to come back before she would dash down the hall and lay with you.

Makeup Christmas happened, except it was only Wayne that was invited and instead of a whole feast you guys ordered a crap ton of Chinese food.

Wayne came over early, sneaking around the back and coming in through the back door which confused the girls to no end but they were excited to see their grandpa.

Ziggy also proved that she learned 2 more words by saying “shit grandpa!” All excited and reaching her hands up for him to grab her.

He howls with laughter, scooping her up and throwing her in the air as she screams in excitement.

Everyone sits around the tree opening gifts, Wayne on the couch with Ziggy on his lap helping her open the gifts. Eddie sat by the tree, passing them out with Motley right by him and you next to her.

He pulls out an envelope that has his name sprawled on it and looks at you.

“I had a plan for Christmas. But I kind of had to redo it. I planned on giving you the stick, but figured since you already know I’d get the ultrasound.” Yoh blush, watching his excitedly tear it open.

It’s quiet for a moment as everyone watches him admire the photo, smiling from ear to ear.

“Anything you notice?” You ask, waiting.

“What do you mean?” He asks, before Wayne snaps his fingers and grabs the photo gently.

“There’s two.” Wayne grunts before his eyes light up. “You’re having twins!”

“Obviously….” Eddie mumbles, “we already knew that?”

“What?”

“The stick? It had two blue lines? So that means we’re having twin boys? Right?” Eddie mumbles, staring at you like your crazy.

It’s quiet for a moment as you and Wayne process what he said before you burst into laughter, the girls following even though they had no clue what was going on.

“Not even close boy!” Wayne cackles as you have to wipe some of the tears from your eyes.

“Does that mean you’re pregnant mommy?” Motley asks, turning to look at you with wide eyes. Your heart stops, going back to what Eddie had told you.

“Yes. Mommy is pregnant .” You wait to see her reaction and Eddie finds himself reaching for the gift he had added two days ago. “Motty. I have something for you.”

He snatches the tiny box, holding it out to her. “It’s a really important gift though. Okay?”

She nods slowly, taking the box from him and opening it just as slow. Inside held a simple chain necklace, but when she pulled it out it revealed that he had hung his mothers ring on it, the one he normally wore on his right hand by itself. “I was told to give this ring to someone very special. It’s from my own mom.”

She gasps, turning to him. “You’re giving it to me?!”

“Well yeah! You’re my oldest kid. My firstborn.” He laughs, moving to help her put it on. Then he snatches another box and hands it to her. “This one is for both you and your sister.”

She reaches for it and opens it gently, pulling out a heavy chain that has a dog tag connected to it. “Another necklace?”

“Well…..” Wayne laughs, flipping it to reveal what the dog tag says.

“Who is Zeppeplin?”

“Zeppelin, baby.” You correct, already standing up.

“Who is Zeppelin?” She giggles, which makes Eddie laugh, picking her up by her armpits to make her stand as you go and open the back door.

The dog, a young little puppy at most, snaps his head to the noise and wags it’s tail excitedly upon seeing you.

“Come in!” You smile and he bolts from his spot tearing up sticks to get inside. Once he hits the threshold of the house he is everywhere. Sniffing the fridge to the chairs, jumping on his hind legs to clean up the high chair where Ziggy left her banana. After inhaling that he bolts to explore more, completely missing the living room as he bolts down the hall to sniff all the rooms.

Once Motley sees the flash of fur she screams in excitement, which draws the puppy back and they both just feed off each others excitement.

She’s jumping up and down, screaming in excitement and the dog starts howling to match her while his butt starts wiggling at how hard he is wagging his tail.

“I am so excited for Chinese later.” Wayne murmurs, coming to hug you as Eddie tries to calm both the noisemakers down. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course, you’re grandpa.” You smile, watching Ziggy from his arms just stare intently at the scene before her. “She can’t tell whether to be excited or scared.”

Wayne laughs, pointing to the dog and trying to help Ziggy see him.

Later that evening everyone sits around the table, Max with you all, as you pile Chinese food onto the plates. Motley keeps showing Max the necklace she got while Wayne keeps bragging to Eddie about his new Jean jacket.

Zeppelin chooses to sit by Ziggy, and it’s very clear that the dog has already figured out who will drop the most food. Ziggy giggles every time she drops a piece of broccoli and he catches it.

“Now we’re gonna have to watch her every time we give her veggies.” Eddie groans. “She’s got an accomplice!”

“Zeppy and Ziggy!” Motley cheers like their superheroes.

February rolls around soon enough, and your daughters biggest catastrophe had nothing to do with the restraining order on Billy, or her dads new bike (which she was terrified of). No. Motleys world was ending over valentines cards.

Eddie had helped her pick them out, little heart shaped cards that you could stick lollipops in, and had sat with her to write in them as you took Ziggy in for a haircut.

The only one that Motley had not written a card for was Troy, and now the morning of Valentine’s Day she was still panicking.

“I can’t write love cause then he will want to get married!” She explains and Eddie nods like it’s super serious. “And I can’t write like, because then he will know I have a crush on him!”

“Glad you can admit it.” He nods and she rolls her eyes. “Here’s an idea! Okay, you ready metal head?”

“Ready daddy!”

“You can write ‘from Motley’.” He laughs, watching her face go serious.

“That’s what I wrote on the others!”

“Exactly.” He watches as she thinks about it before nodding quickly and writing it down, tossing it in her valentines box and dashing to grab her backpack.

“She finally figure out Troys?” You ask, shuffling Ziggy in. “It’s been days.”

“She did. We decided on writing ‘from motley’.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you before leaning down to kiss your stomach then Ziggy.

“Stevie….” Ziggy giggles, running to the phone. It didn’t take long to figure out that she would be the one to run the phone bill up, even now she spent every morning learning to dial her uncle Steve’s number. She dialed Dustin once but deemed him “poopoo head.”

“Nuh uh. Come eat pretty girl.” Eddie calls, pointing to her chair. “Zeppelin is waiting.”

The dog, who just a month ago had been tiny enough to lay under her chair, now sat at full height beside it. Still a puppy, just bigger.

Ziggy runs, her little pigtails bouncing as Eddie picks her up by the overalls to sit her in the chair. Now trained Ziggy eats his dog food beside her rather than everything she drops, and if somehow someway some of her waffle drops in his bowl then it can’t really be considered his fault.

“Motley, hurry up baby.” You call. “We gotta go.”

“You good to pick Wayne up?” Eddie asks, moving to grab his lunch.

“Yes. I’ll drop Motley off at school and go and grab him.” Wayne had injured his hip, so today you’ll be taking him to the doctors to see what the plan was while Eddie went to work.

“Okay. And Ziggy is still good to-?”

“Ziggy and Zeppelin are going to Nancy’s, yes.” You smile. Nancy had just given birth to her third boy, and she liked having Ziggy over because she liked having another girl in the house.

“Okay. Tell me how it goes?” He asks, leaning to give you one more goodbye kiss as you nod before moving to say bye to Motley. “BYE BEAUTIFUL LADIES!”

The day had started off so well, you should have known it would only go downhill from there.

Wayne sat in the passenger seat of your car, irritated and ranting about shitty doctors. “I’m not doing it. You hear me? Just give me some Tylenol and I’ll be fine.”

“MOMMY!” Ziggy screams, from her spot on her car seat.

The doctor had told Wayne he needed hip surgery and could not work, which meant that Wayne was pissed and you were panicking about what to do. He couldn’t work which meant he wouldn’t be able to make rent and he would need some help to move around. Then when you got to Steve and Nancy’s she had told you that Ziggy had taken quite a stumble off the table and scratched her chin on the corner of the table.

It was a mess.

Both of them were not having a good day and Zeppelin was howling at their ranting and screaming and as much as you loved them you truly debated crashing the car.

Then you got home to yelling.

Eddie stood in the living room, still in his work attire with his hands on his hips and his eyes wide. “You’re in rare fucking form today, you know that?!”

The response to his question is met with a demonic scream from down the hall and you can only assume that Motley was having a bad time as well.

“I’m not getting a surgery, you hear me Edward?” Wayne snaps, limping to the couch.

“What the fuck are you on now?” He snaps back, looking at him annoyed as Ziggy rushes past crying. “What the fuck is going on?”

“It’s apparently a meltdown day.” You sigh, moving to kiss his cheek and go into the kitchen to make a snack for yourself.

Todays pregnancy craving was potato chips with lime juice and pickles, Eddie watches from the entrance of the kitchen with a smile as you settle at the table and enjoy your snack.

He moves and takes the seat next to you, following your lead on snacks.

“Why is Metalhead in ‘rare fucking form’ today?” You giggle, watching his face pinch in annoyance.

“I pick her up and she gets in the car, right? And then she just starts screaming at me! And I mean screaming. The entire ride home! And from what I gather Vinny didn’t give her a valentines card.” He explains. “God. She was yelling like she was possessed. Then I tried explaining that maybe it was lost and that made it worse.”

“Did she get one from Troy?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she cares either.” He sighs, rubbing his jaw.

“Okay, we let her ride out the fit in her room. We’ll call Steve later to see what happened.”

“Sounds great to me.” He smiles. “She scared me a little. Threatened to cut her hair and everything. Then threatened to cut MY hair.”

A small laugh tears from you as he steals the potato chip in your hand before looking to Wayne’s direction. “They recommend surgery?”

“It wasn’t a recommendation.” You sigh, grabbing his hand and tracing the tattoo. “I think we need to move the house around.”

“What?”

“If Wayne gets surgery he needs to be here. I’ll cut back shifts at the diner and help him out.” You start. “He won’t be able to use the stairs so maybe we can move our room downstairs which would give more room for the twins cribs in our room, but Ziggy has problems with the stairs and she likes coming in to sleep with us cause of the nightmares but-“

“Easy. Easy.” Eddie mumbles, turning his hand up quickly to snatch your hand and pull it to his lips. “We’ll figure it out.”

And so you did.

Eddie moved the house around, and turned the basement into a bedroom for you guys. Now with more room and your own bathroom down here he could set up the cribs.

Wayne took your old room, and though the man threw a fit the girls got excited that Grandpa Wayne would be living here now.

He got the surgery in the beginning of March, and Motley and Vinny were still fighting.

You spent your days helping Wayne, taking him to pt and helping him move around the house.

Motley and Vinny got put into separate classes which lead to a whole argument between Steve and Eddie about whose kid was the one to blame.

Life was a bit of a mess.

It all came to head at the children's father dance.

Eddie had dressed in a tux, making sure he looked good as you got Motley ready for the night. With Wayne napping on the couch with Ziggy asleep on his chest drooling (a daily nap these two took) Zeppelin follows at your feet, keeping close to you as you did Motley's hair.

“How do I look?” Eddie asks from the door of the bathroom. “I have a date tonight and I’m really nervous.”

“Daddy!” Motley giggles, rushing to him in her puffy little skirt, hugging him tightly.

“Alright you two. Let me get a picture.” You smile, rushing past to find where the camera had gone. By the time you got a picture of them Motley was rushing Eddie out, ready for the dance.

He struggles to find parking, and ends up finding one right next to Steve’s car, rolling his eyes when he sees Harrington fixing his jacket while Vinny reads in the car.

“Harrington.” He greets coldly, fixing his leather jacket and moving to open the door for his daughter.

“Munson.” Steve matches the tone, scoffing at Eddie’s jacket. “Little Munson.”

“Uncle Steve.” She huffs, fixing her hair.

“Really? A leather jacket Edward?”

“You look like you stepped off a Queen music video, Steven.” Eddie snaps, holding out his hand for Motley. Fighting or not they wait at the front of the car for Steve and Vinny. Walking into the dance together.

“I’m surprised that they even let you in here. Your child is a danger to society.” Steve snaps as they wait in line for tickets.

“Let’s talk about your kid giving everyone but my sweet Angel a valentines card. That’s barbaric.” Eddie defends, watching Motley wave to her friends.

“He didn’t want to. And I don’t need to tell him what to do.” Steve blushes, turning to look at something to avoid looking at Eddie.

“There it is again. You’re acting so fucking suspicious about that card, man.” Eddie points at him, silver rings glinting in the light. “Tell me what you know.”

“Tickets?” The poor woman asks, interrupting their stand off.

“Yes please. Four.”

“No two. I’ll get my tickets.”

“No I’ll get them”

“You’re not buying me ,Steven.”

“He’s buying me.” Motley smiles, snatching the money from Steve’s hands and setting them on the table before grabbing two tickets. “Let’s go get some pop, daddy.”

Eddie can do nothing but follow, letting the little lady lead the way.

After about an hour of Motley showing him everything and introducing him to all her friends she abandoned him to hang out with some of the girls in her class, making sure Eddie was okay where he sat at an empty table nursing a can of soda.

It felt like high school again, watching the way all the other dads surrounded Harrington as the pta moms that decorated huddled together and giggled in the corner. At least the kids were having fun.

Eddie wished you were here, you would be sitting with him.

“Jesus. Gary never shuts up.” Steve mumbles, snapping Eddie out of his train of thought. “I got you a slice of pizza.”

He sets the slice down, giving Eddie a weird smile as he scarfs down his own slice. But eddie wasn’t very hungry, instead he surveyed to check on motley and see her giggling with all her friends as they dance in a circle.

“Your kid has been sitting alone, you gonna help?” Eddie asks, looking to where Vinny sits reading a book.

“I tried earlier. He just said something about me embarrassing him more.” Steve sighs. “Then complained that I ruin everything.”

“What happened? I’ve never seen him alone at a party.”

“Have I not told you? Your daughter is the popular one. They made her move classes and he was left in their old class struggling to make friends.” Steve mumbles.

“Why don’t you get one of the many dads following you around to get their kids over there? It feels like I’m in highschool again, waiting for your cronies to shove me in the bathrooms and lock me in again.”

“How long were you in that bathroom, again? Two hours?”

“Three.” Eddie sighs. “I smoked and set off an alarm so the principal found me.”

“Sorry.”

“Wasnt one of your worst. I was fine.” Eddie shrugs. “Sorry about Vinny.”

“I have faith.” Steve sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I also cannot believe I’m at a daddy daughter dance.”

“It’s a father kid dance?”

“They didn’t want the boys feeling left out.” Steve explains.

“I see.” Eddie smiles, picking at the pizza.

“He wrote one. You know?”

“Sorry?”

“Vinny wrote one. He wrote a valentine for Motley and got her a big chocolate bar. But a girl made fun of him in the parking lot and he panicked.” Steve explains. “Ripped it up and left the chocolate on my car to melt on the seats.”

“I can clean that.”

“You can?!”

“Oh yeah. I got you Harrington.” Eddie laughs right as another dad comes to the table.

“Howdy gentleman.” He smiles, sitting down. Eddie has to blink to recognize, holy shit that’s Tommy. “Oooo. I’m sitting at the hellfire table. So scary…”

“Do you have a kid here…?” Steve asks, blinking slowly.

“Yeah.” He slurs, pointing to the young kid stuffing his face with marshmallows. “You guys want some whiskey?”

“Jesus. I smell it from here man.” Steve snaps, standing up.

“I’m driving. Hard pass.” Eddie laughs, standing with Steve.

“It’s so weird to me that you two are friends! That shit is like….. mind flowing!”

“Blowing.” Steve corrects and Eddie sighs. “Damn it Harrington. It was a trap.”

“Blowing is more for you guys, if you know what I mean.” Tommy laughs and Eddie shakes his head.

“How did you fall for that Harrington? You made that line.” Eddie grumbles, moving to find Motley. “Hey Metalhead?”

“Yeah daddy?” She asks, coming up with her cheeks bright red from all the dancing.

“Have you eaten?” He asks, offering her a bite of his pizza before looking back over to Vinny. “Think you can go help him out?”

“Yeah. I guess.” She sighs, kissing his cheek and rushing to find Vinny and bring him out to dance.

By the end of the night Eddie has danced to about every little pop song she wants, and by the time he is bringing her to the car it’s more of a carrying her situation as Steve tries to trip Vinny up.

“Have a good night Harringtons.” Eddie laughs.

“Sleep tight Munsons.”

“Shouldn't you be in bed?” Eddie asks, peering up at you over his book as you shuffle and pace around the room.

“Shut up.” You grunt, waving your hand at him. Your face is pinched up and Eddie finds himself sitting up and staring at you.

“What’s going on here?”

“Edward shut UP!” You snap, pacing back to the wall and holding your hands against it to try and breathe in. “Sorry. Sorry that was mean.”

“Are you in pain?” He mumbles, standing up and putting on his slippers.

It was your ninth month, and Eddie was anxious because he had never experienced the pregnancy part of it all before so every kick and movement made him worried.

“Eddie. Edward. Eds.” You grunt out, and right there something trickles down your leg.

“Did you just pee?”

“EDWARD!”

(Would you guys want me to keep going? I have more ideas {Especially Motley in high school} Feel free to message me if you want me to keep going or if you have any blurbs or requests for them in mind)

TAGLIST:: (Let me know if you want removed)

@mariamayhemrsmunson @bethanyzed @alyisdead

@caseyqdilla @zooboomanfu @avenjames-anderson @hazydespair

@bl1ssfulbaby @username199945 @costellation-hunter @vanessav03 @thehuntresswolf @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @jackiosstuff @mysticpeachobject @animechick555 @natie335 @localemofreak @venuslayla23-blog @cherrycolas-things @dontcrydaddy

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fan #strange imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanart #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things angst #stranger things smut

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sehodreams · 10 months ago

Text

sex money feelings die - second visit

first visit ↬ second visit ↬ third visit

WC: 1.5k

TW and Tags (permanent for the story): rich client!Anton x stripper!reader, smut, fluff (?), a touch of angst for the moment, inexperienced reader, fingering, kissing, lots of silly conversations.

Summary: Working at a night club was difficult in many aspects, your sleep schedule was messed up for life, your feet were more used to high heels than sneakers and you had to lie about where you went to work those nights. Still, even with all those cons, you didn't hate your job, you had more than enough to pay your bills, feed your brother and save money for his college. However, what happens when your boss makes you do the one thing you asked to never do.

Mondays became the new Fridays.

Anton had completely stopped booking the VIP room for him and his friends and disappeared until Monday came, the girls were sad at first, missing his expensive champagne and pretty face, but since his friends didn’t stop coming and they also brought their own drinks to share they quickly got over it.

Shotaro was elated to have now two big incomes in the week instead of just one, and every time he saw you around, he patted your back as if he was congratulating you for making the right choice.

You don’t know how right was to accept his money, the first time you told yourself you deserved it as compensation for all the stress he caused you, but after the fourth time you had started to feel bad receiving the wad of cash when all you two did was talk and sometimes drink, and you didn’t even drink with him, you just made sure his glass was full while you talked about recipes you had tried days before, how clients had treated you during the week, or maybe some gossip you heard around.

And he always kept the conversation flowing so smoothly that, before you noticed, you had started to talk about things you wanted too, from the simplest dish you had tried in your infancy to the coat you had seen when you were window shopping at the mall.

‘’I can buy it for you’’ he answered when you described the long black coat you saw that weekend.

You denied, ‘’It’s okay Anton, it’s not that I can’t, but there are more important things I could buy with that money.’’

‘’Like what?’’ he seemed sincerely curious about what else you had to do with money instead of buying yourself something truly wanted.

Saying you could buy your brother more practice books was impossible, you hadn’t talk about that kind of personal aspects of your life. Also, you asked yourself, would he be able to understand you? You saw the gold earrings he had on each of his ear globes, drops shiny enough to know they weren’t fake like the ones you bought yourself in the little fairs you visited when you had time, and you didn’t dare to even guess the price, because you were sure they costed enough to pay at least four months of your rent.

‘’Like food or, I don’t know, pay my bills, I don’t feel good wasting too much money on myself.’’

‘’Why would it be a waste to buy yourself something you want? Of course, those things are important, but gifting yourself things you want too.’’

He wouldn’t understand you at all. You couldn’t tell him how a two thousand coat was not something you could gift yourself, you had a mouth to feed, a student to maintain, and when you were young you never appreciated how much your mother did for you, but now that you were on her shoes, you understood why she collapsed after so many years taking care of you two without thinking about her own health. You couldn’t even afford fruit when you were young, you would be happy if you had a fried egg in your lunch, and now you decided that eating two fruits a day was a better decision than buying some piece of cloth that your brother wouldn’t find useful at all.

‘’I shouldn’t, I have to think about the future, I don’t know what could happen tomorrow.’’ You saw his glass half empty and tried to fill it again to avoid his eyes on you.

Minutes passed and the uncomfortable silence that you had forgotten about after so many times together came again, making you shrug in your spot, wishing you hadn’t talked about that. He seemed to deeply think about something while slowly nodding and sipping his glass full again, and before you were about to change the subject to something one of the girls had said about him, he interrupted you.

‘’What I give to you is not enough? Should I give you more?’’

‘’Anton in first place I don’t know why you give me so much money, you could have any girl in this place, you don’t have to put up with me.’’

His hand found yours and, caressing the back of it to calm you, he sighed.

After so many nights talking until Sungchan called for you, he had learned many things about you, how you enjoyed sweets a lot, how you always had a praise for the people you worked with and how you never recognized how special you were.

‘’Can I ask you a favor?’’ You, tired of hearing that phrase, like always, stayed silent until the other person said what wanted from you. ‘’Could you treat yourself a little better? I don’t think you realize what you do, but you talk as if you didn’t deserve nice things, and I’m not here to lecture you or anything, but it’s painful to hear how you say things like waste, or put up, and I thought that, after all the times we were together, you would notice that, for me, you would never be someone I have to put up with, I’m here because I want to, and because I think your company is as valuable as what I pay for, to not say more.’’

The tenderness with what he said it made you blush and, grateful for the room to be so dark and your foundation so good, you let him hold your hand.

He chuckled when your smokey eyes met his, seeing you so shy with just a grasp of his hand after knowing how bold you could be was a charm he didn’t expect from you, and when he saw how your ears betrayed you, all red and obvious even with the dim light of the place, he found himself as lost as when you took off your robe and showed him your pretty set of lingerie.

The occasion never repeated, you two strictly talked and got to know each other, so he never received another of your shows again. Kind of sad, but he didn’t mind, seeing your soft face and hearing your voice was enough to keep him satisfied the whole night.

However, he thought about you a lot more the next days, sometimes he thought about calling your boss and asking for more of your time on random days, but he didn’t want to scare you away when you were getting so close. For him, you were just like one of those stray cats he had seen around his elite school when he was younger. His friends and he would sneak some food a couple of times, and they would instantly run away from them and hide if they weren’t careful enough, and even if with every encounter they would warm up and occasionally accept to be petted, just the action of one of the immature boys, like putting too much pressure with their hands or being too loud, would be enough to make them run away, and would have to start all over again.

Your eyes met his and, holding all his desire to give you a kiss over your nude lips, he focused his attention on going back to the conversation.

‘’So, what do you say, will you do me that favor?’’

You hummed with a smile, you were tired of favors, but this was the first time you didn’t mind that someone asked you for one. ‘’I’ll think about it.’’

Testing the waters, he pulled the hand he was holding and gave it a quick but delicate peck. ‘’Knowing that you will think about me later it’s enough for me.’’

Not believing his cheesy line you scoffed, ‘’I’ll think about what you said, not about you.’’

‘’Well, just so you know, I’m always thinking about you.’’

Your laugh brought him joy again, whipped with the sound of it, he always left feeling victorious if he made you laugh during the night.

He kissed your wrist this time, and you didn’t pull your hand away, so he felt he had advanced a big step with you after so many nights.

‘’Why don’t you come Fridays anymore? The girls miss you’’ you changed subjects, like you always did when Anton, or made you uncomfortable, or made you too comfortable.

‘’And you? Do you miss me?’’ he replied kissing your index finger.

‘’Sometimes, your champagne is better than your friend’s’’ you had no idea how it tasted, but it always smelled good, so you decided it wasn’t exactly a lie.

He was exhilarating, hearing how you wanted to see him more was something he had waited for so long. ‘’I’ll make sure to bring two bottles then.’’

You let him hold your hand until you were called, and that night Shotaro gave you a check. ‘’Too many bills’’ he said.

Anton had given you a raise.

first visit ↬ second visit ↬ third visit

#riize x reader #riize smut #anton x reader #anton smut #riize hard thoughts #riize hard hours #riize imagines #riize fluff

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justevelynnnn · 12 days ago

Text

I want to be more

Summary: You work in a brothel in the early 1900s after WW1. You had few clients but just started having one regular. He was solider. You fall for him only after a few times of meeting. You soon wanted to be more than…whatever this is.

Warnings: Cussing, Reader is a woman, prostitution, smut mentioning throughout, alcohol consumption, signs of limerence, angsty ending

(this is barely proofread too)

A/N: This idea came to me out of nowhere..i’m so happy with it though. I had fun incorporating 1920s slang into this too. I think i have an idea for a part 2 but that might come later..

It was a cold winter day. Clients came in less when it was cold, not wanting to travel through the snow. Only the really, truly libidinous would come during these times. You enjoyed it. A break. But with breaks came no money being made.

The owner was generous enough to let you and a few others stay in your private rooms and live there. You’ve been here for 5 years now. A job is a job. It paid enough for you to scrape by. Not that you really enjoyed it.

You got used to it quick. At least, as used to it as you could. As one could. At first, you were a nervous, naiive olive, but now you’re a stronger, almost street smart woman. You knew how to handle yourself, how you should be treated. Men knew now to respect you. To not try and get out of paying or overstep boundaries.

You drank often to hide any pain. Forget any and all traumas. You always were tipsy if it could be helped when it was time to work. It made it…easier. Lighter.

The brothel itself was nice. Spacious. Luxurious. A blind tiger as most described it. Disguised as just a fancy bar for any authority figures who passed by.

You got paid well because of this by each client but really only ever made just enough for rent some food and maybe a dress or something else. You weren’t too popular to get many clients. Most men you had were Soldiers from the war. Occasionally, if you looked nice enough, an egg or wealthy man. Most of them were married. Older. Drunks, whether it was a secret or not.

You didn’t care for them. They didn’t care for you more. It was just business.

But there was one man who was different. One man who stood out to you. Who made you feel something other than a deep disgust.

His name was Logan Howlett.

He was young seeming, never telling his age. He just got back from the war. Obviously worn down by the trauma he possibly witnessed. Eyes told it all as well like many other soldiers. He always drank. Sometimes smoked a cigar. But always went right up to you.

At first, you almost refused him. He was dirty, and swaying around. He gave you a damp crumpled up $50 and mumbled about your hips and eyes. He smelled a bit too-

But then he pulled out another $50. You were convinced now. $100! was alot. You’d choke this encounter down too.

But he was surprisingly good. He didn’t just fuck you. No. He made love to you. He was soft. Gentle. You were almost taken aback. He treated you like glass. He actually even licked your core, something 90% of your clients ignored. Until you came 3 times you didn’t see his manhood.

He fell asleep next you, exhausted and sad. He was a sad drunk. He told you how he wanted to marry you, how he wanted to run away from everything with someone. Most men would confess things to you either before or after. But you ignored a lot because they were often drunk, like Logan.

Logan logan logan.

His first encounter with you left an impression.

A week passed and you still couldn’t get him off your mind. It was almost depressing. And just when you felt like he’d never return, he did.

He walked in, head down. Sat at the bar for an hour just drinking. And then he looked for you. You didn’t go up to him, just to see how long he’d look before he settled for another. But he never did. He keep looking. Looking and looking and walking and walking.

Then he saw you and walked up to you quickly. A hug. A drunken, messy hug and kiss.

“I never got your name, dear..” He whispered. He could barely stand.

Did you want him to have your real or work name?

“It’s y/n.” You said softly.

“y/n……… y/n…” Logan repeated slowly. “Beautiful li’you. Pretty girl…”

You could barely hear him. He had his hand in your lower back that horribly distracted you. A soft, “your mine” hold. Possessive. Different from other men.

You started to love the taste of whiskey just because you always tasted it on his lips. You started to love the faint scent on cigar on his hairy chest. Dog tags hitting you in the face has he thrusted into you. The way he held you like you’d get away. Treated you like you weren’t just a couple of wet holes but a human. A woman. Even drunk he was somewhat of a gentleman.

You wonder why he chose you. Why did ever go to you. Did he go to other brothels too? He seemed infatuated with you and you him.

You told the other women about him after the fifth time. They barely believed you. A bit of jealousy filled the air as they were rarely, if at all, treated so lovely. No, everyone was just holes. Just holes. Eye candy and holes.

The next time Logan came some women tried to climb on him. They offered him discounts. You almost wanted to fucking spit. He wasn’t yours though so why did you feel like this?

It made you damn near giddy as you watched him shoo them away like flies. Almost disgusted. Like he was some virgin waiting for marriage. Like it was almost rude for women to act like that despite where he was. The women huffed and walked away, some back to their rooms and others to other men. A couple have you a glance or so but said nothing.

You just waited for Logan to come back to you and touch you and treat you like you were more.

You felt spoiled.

He really acted like you two were going together. You began to wonder if he was courting you in some odd way.

Rumors started amongst the women who cared that you two were dating and you almost got put out. The number one rule was to never date your clients. Ever.

You assured he was just stuck on you or something and it wasn’t your fault. That he paid you the best. Out loud you say money, in your head you say attention.

He certainly becomes all you think about. Oh yes. Ohhh yes. You started noticing little details. His beard that was sometimes shaven. His hair. How it smelled. How it was the only soft thing on him. His nose. He once confessed he hated it but you loved it. He let you ride it once. Amazing experience.

And was such a sex magician. That’s how’d you describe him anyways. He was awfully skilled. You really wondered if he got practice before you. And how much?

You learned bits and pieces about him after sex. He’d lay there and talk about the war. Why he drank sometimes. How me missed his family. How he wished he was “normal”. Normal huh.

You never spoke much. You didn’t have anything but this. Your home life and childhood was rough, obviously leading you here. You had no special talents or dreams really. You recently has some interest with becoming one of those flapper women. But he was the first bit of true excitement you had in a while.

Logan stopped coming for a while. This time you were sure he wouldn’t return. The first week was horrible. You laid in bed like a rag doll as men used you, thinking about how Logan would at least butter you up before anything started. You mindlessly counted money as you wondered where Logan could be. You drank and drank to try and forget but he left such an impression on you it didn’t work.

The other women “comforted” you, but deep down we’re happy you were back to their level, with no special clients.

“You shouldn’t get so attached to the clients!”

“It was fun while it lasted huh now, sweets? Oh, i experienced the same thing.”

“An odd cat he was…maybe it’s for the best.”

You ignored it all. You didn’t care for any of that shit. Fuck it all. You just wanted him back.

Did he even care for you the way you did him? Would he even remember you? Did he? He was so drunk sometimes….you couldn’t tell if he cared at all. He remembered your name sure but that was it. You just couldn’t deny your feelings anymore.

These deep feelings.

Limerence.

There was passion that drove you crazy. You felt like you were going crazy.

Days blurred. Holidays passed. Men came and went. Take that both ways.

But this cold winter day, he returned. You were sitting on a stool, drinking again. It was just your 3rd.

You hear the door open and the little bell rang. Heavy footsteps. Leftover snow underneath crushing under boots. You turned around as you felt the presence behind you, getting ready to say your prices and hours assuming this man wanted your services.

However, you stopped mid breath as you turned and saw… “….Logan?”

He took his hat off and nodded. He quietly sat next to you and stared into your eyes. He was sober but had dark circles.

“I been busy you see..” He starts, his breath smells of straight cigar. “Th’s why i haven’t been around.”

You’re buzzed and you think you’re dreaming. You’re sure you look a mess right now.

“I missed you, Lo..” You whispered.

Logan looks away. He sighs. He says nothing for a long while. It worried you. Did you cross a boundary? Was it too far?

“That’s the issue, doll.”

Logan turns to look you in the eyes, brows furrowed. Your heart rate picks up but you felt a heartbeat elsewhere after the nickname came out his mouth. Doll..

“Wait-” You start but he puts a finger to your lips.

“You are a prostitute baby. I’m…a mess. A drunk vet. Addicted to giggle water. You don’t want me. It don’t make sense. We’ve gotten too deep into this. I come for a quick fuck and then back to reality as it should be. You don’t want this, pretty..”

You feel your heart break. You sober up a bit too.

“It don’t feel quick to me. You treat me like i’m human. You the only one.” Your voice cracks a bit. You are also a sad drunk most days so the alcohol was not helping you process this situation properly.

Logan has an unreadable look on his face. He shakes his head soon after and licks his lips. He’s thinking. Maybe you caught him off guard? The lobby was suddenly very quiet even though it’s been like that the whole time. Just you, Logan and the bartender. There was a woman in the corner but she was preoccupied with a man herself, paying no mind to you or Logan.

You want to puke.

“Logan-”

“Close your head, woman. You stuck on me or something?” He says a bit sharp.

You just nod biting your lip. Suddenly you’re drunk again. The room is spinning a bit and you couldn’t sit straight with a constant nagging to go hysterical.

“We can’t keep doing this. We just can’t.” He says not looking you in the eye anymore. “We can’t.”

“Oh, applesauce…why not?”

“Because we can’t. You listening? You must be zozzled. Listen to me, you don’t want this. I’m telling you.”

“But, i do want you. It’s all i want now. You’re all i want now. Please, Lo. Don’t leave me here.”

“Y/n…”

“I want to be more than this.” You spit out. Logan freezes. He almost looked scared for a second. A tear falls out your eye as Logan gets up swiftly after you say it.

“Goodbye, y/n.”

You say nothing. He hands you a $100 and tells you to buy something nice. You watch, sadly, as he goes out the door.

You swivel back around.

“I need everything this can buy please.” You hold up thr $100 to the bartender. He looks at you like you have two heads but starts getting many cups out.

You’re going to be drinking for days.

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine angst #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #brothel #post ww1 #logan howlett angst #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut

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1d1195 · 2 years ago

Text

Traditional I

Inspiration is funny, ya know?

Definitely multiple parts. Hope you like the idea, wasn't part of my list, but appeared in my brain without warning. Couldn't ignore it. Enjoy!

Main Character messages/Harry messages

Do you not want...a traditional relationship? If you’re paying me, how do you know I’d be a real companionship?

Because only the sweetest person on earth would send a profile out to a bunch of multi-millionaires to pay her a measly 1500 a month AND turn down a higher offer all because it’s more than she wanted.

There was a prominent frown on her face. She could sort of make out the sad, nearly disgusted face of the reflection in the back of half her computer screen. She looked over her profile again and again making sure it wasn’t too desperate but wasn’t overselling something she couldn’t produce. “Ahh...” she felt herself wincing at that reflection and bit her lip nervously as her cursor hovered over the submit button. “Ugh,” she sighed.

When Louis suggested it, she thought he was joking.

“Babe, someone would pay good money for your ass,” he told her.

“What is wrong with you?” She deadpanned.

But here she was. Making the profile to find someone willing to pay for her companionship. That’s what all the websites said. But it was a Sugar Daddy. That’s what it was called. It wasn’t ugly or distasteful. She didn’t care what people did with their lives at all. It wasn’t something that she thought she would have to do for herself until it was her last resort. That didn’t mean it wasn’t something to look at with disdain. She was all for women getting paid to be themselves simply for being lovely.

She didn’t want to do it because she didn’t think she would be good at it. She wasn’t sexy or wild, she didn’t feel beautiful, and obviously her ex didn’t think she was much fun if he was looking elsewhere for quite some time for entertainment both in and out of the bedroom. A stranger with a lot of money probably wouldn’t find her exciting like the other profiles she perused before completing a questionnaire of her own.

In all honesty, it seemed like it would be a second full-time job trying to convince a man that she deserved the money she was asking for and she wasn’t sure she could do that on top of all the other tasks she had to deal with these days. She told herself she wouldn’t let Louis convince her. But she needed the money—a good chunk of money at that. Best case scenario, there would be no takers to supply her with money. She would remain in her needy financial state and would find some other low paying job and try to manage the seemingly endless pile of obligations.

Louis was kind enough to let her stay with him and Eleanor until she figured out her shit. It wasn’t her fault that the guy she was dating cheated on her, broke her heart, and kicked her out of their shared house all in one swoop. She was living for free because they had been together for so long and it was his aunt’s old house near university. She had money and scholarships to pay for classes, so she didn’t need to manage a job while also getting an internship.

It was her final year before she would be awarded her master’s degree. Nothing could go wrong.

Except she returned early from visiting her mom and didn’t tell him.

So, there he was, moaning into another woman’s mouth on their bed.

She would have kicked herself out if he hadn’t done it first. “You could use a better dick in you too, love,” Louis had joked.

With a deep breath, like she was about to jump into a pool, she held her finger over her track pad. One last bout of reasoning ran through her mind. Her full-time internship would pay crumbs. Not enough to afford rent or a place of her own. She needed to get out of Louis and Eleanor’s hair. It was just one year.

Submit.

Blowing out a breath she smacked her laptop shut and headed to Eleanor’s kitchen—she would have said Louis and Eleanor’s kitchen, but Eleanor had a strict “no Louis near the oven” rule. One hand on her box of cereal and another on the silverware drawer to grab a spoon, she was shocked to hear her phone pinged with a message after two minutes. “Shut up,” she muttered to herself. She could almost hear Louis saying I told you so.

She ignored it. The first taker was probably not the way to go—too eager. She wasn’t a prude but the idea of having sex for money wasn’t really what she wanted to sign up for this last year of her program. But then there was another ping. And another.

“What the fuck?” She whispered.

“What is that dating app?” Louis called from the door. The pinging was incessant. “I’ve never heard that one,” he said as he meandered into the kitchen. She turned the volume down and Louis snagged it from her hands.

“Lou—”

“YOU DID IT,” he gasped, practically cheering as he unlocked her phone without her permission. “HOLY SHIT! You’ve got like fifteen takers already, babe. I told you that ass was worth it.”

“Louis, please give—”

He gasped. “Love, are you that dumb?” He asked gazing at her screen.

“What do you—”

“You can’t ask for a crummy fifteen hundred dollars a month,” he rolled his eyes. “You’re going to get all kinds of creeps and people that will make you do despicable things.”

“But I don’t—”

“A fifteen hundred dollars a week would be a lot better, don’t you think?”

“Louis, I just need a little bit of help. I don’t want to take someone’s money if I’m going to be bad at—”

The pinging stopped. “See?” He rolled his eyes placing her phone back in her hands. “Much more selective clientele...and you won’t be bad at it. I’m telling you that ass is going to pay for anything you want.”

“Louis,” she groaned and rubbed her hand over her face.

“Eleanor thinks so too, don’t you love?” He called down the hall.

“You’re home?” She called to her friend supposedly down the hall.

“Is it your profile that you've been whining about all this time? I would have helped you,” she said. “He’s right; your ass is going to be a great selling point,” Eleanor didn’t leave her room.

“I don’t want a ton of money. I just need to get by...” she explained to Louis.

“Yeah, but if you’re going to get paid for sexual activities you need to be compensated appropriately,” he said seriously.

“Why do you know so much about this?” She rolled his eyes. “Eleanor, you know he doesn’t have money, right?”

“Unfortunately!”

Flicking her cheek, he finished pouring the cereal for her (he was only allowed to touch kitchen items that didn’t involve cooking. He only recently upgraded to having microwave privileges again—especially after the baked potato incident). “I just know some girls from my dorm a few years ago talked about it a lot,” he rolled his eyes.

She was quiet while Louis slid the bowl in front of her and she took a few bites. She was still mad and upset about her ex. But she had bills to pay and quick. She frowned. “This is not what I wanted,” she mumbled.

Louis frowned grabbing a second bowl to join her cereal party. “I know, babe, but it’s okay. You’ll do great. Let’s see what your serious options are now.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to look right now. I’m too nervous.”

Louis chuckled around a bite of his food. “You don’t have to do sexual favors y’know.”

“Based on my research, I think I have to if I want this kind of money.”

He smirked. “Then we better find you a guy with big hands.”

“Jesus Christ.”

She didn’t look the next day or even the day after that either. It was too much to think about all at once. Submitting the profile and having her best friend talk about her ass and sexual favors was a bit much. Eleanor eventually came out from the other room and gave her gentle encouragement that Louis often lacked.

There was a bunch of remote training she needed to do before she started her internship on Monday. A company she had never really heard of; it was a good company. Not one that was plastered everywhere, but the research she did on it seemed to show it was a good place that made a good amount of money. She was emailing her supervisor, Niall, who had interviewed her for the position at the time. He was extremely nice, and she was grateful it was one less thing she had to worry about when the rest of her life seemed to be falling apart. She would be Niall’s assistant and learn the ropes of his job that entailed, “really two jobs in one. I just know the owner, so I often get stuck in two roles,” he joked to her.

Good morning Mr. Horan,

You’ll see that I’ve completed the training required. I’ve attached all the certificates and approvals and sent them to HR as well. This was just for your record. Please let me know if there’s anything else I need to do. I’m very excited to start, is there anything I need to do specifically when I get there to make your life easier? Please let me know.

Have a great weekend!

Her phone pinged yet again with an alert that someone was interested in giving her money for companionship. She frowned slightly, almost wishing that it wouldn’t ping anymore. She didn’t want Louis knowing and she was really wishing that it didn’t have to be like this. She didn’t want to do this. She wanted to be with her ex and live happily ever after the way she had planned for so many years.

For all the shit to hit the fan in the last, busiest year of her life, she was incredibly sad.

Hello!

I’m glad you’re excited. You don’t have to do anything special. I’ll show you around on Monday. Don’t stress, you’re going to do great.

Have a lovely, relaxing weekend as well.

Best,

(Please call me) Niall

She smirked at his response. This seemed like the least of her worries, but she had heard others didn’t typically last long at this company. Niall probably knew that as well as she did. He probably had to be polite to the rotation of interns coming through his office when his boss didn’t like them.

Another ping.

She sighed and figured it was now or never.

She deleted the creepy pick-up lines and anything that had a picture attachment noted on the message threads. That narrowed her choices down to four. She read through each of the opening messages and only one particularly stood out.

I’d like to give you five thousand dollars a month.

The only reason it stood out was because it was the only thing that was said. The other messages, while kinder than the ones she deleted, talked a lot about themselves and said they liked her profile. You seem cheap, lol wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear. But there wasn’t a lot to go off of the one negotiating for triple the amount she was asking for.

She looked at the username for a moment trying to make heads or tails of his name. Coming up short she sighed quietly. “Louis? Eleanor?” She called.

With no response she decided she was on her own and clicked on his message thread again.

Thank you, that’s very kind, but I really don’t need all that much. I’m just...a little down on my luck and need enough to afford a place and whatnot. I couldn’t possibly use all that every month.

Hmm... The reply was almost instantaneous. Been waiting for you to reply, love. Can’t say I expected you to say that. You must be new to this whole arrangement.

She frowned. Appearing inept made her feel grumpier than she already was.

I am but I’m not greedy. That’s all. I just want what I need.

I appreciate that. But then you’re on the wrong app love. I want to give you five thousand a month AND pay for your place.

She was really glad Louis wasn’t around. She was blushing madly and there was no way he wouldn’t make fun of her nor take her phone from her himself and send messages she didn’t want to send. Taking a deep breath, she pursed her lips and nodded. I think you’re right...I don’t know. I really need the money. I just...I don’t want to take what I don’t EARN...and I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this arrangement, after all.

You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, love. I make a lot of money. More than I know what to do with. I give to a lot of charities, and I’d just like to have a bona fide companionship that wasn’t about my money.

She snickered. Maybe you’re on the wrong app.

Sorry, I guess I am new to this. Do you not want...a traditional relationship? If you’re paying me, how do you know I’d be a real companionship?

She didn’t respond for a while. A few minutes turned into half an hour. Then before she knew it two hours had passed, and she felt like she hadn’t done anything in that time yet somehow no time had passed and the man at the other end had enough of waiting for her reply.

I didn’t mean to scare you. I spend a lot of time scouring these profiles. I want someone GOOD for my money. You hardly want anything. I could pay you what I want and any apartment you wanted before breakfast for a whole year because my company already has that money transferred into its account. I could pay your student loans if you wanted. I just want someone real, and you have the most real and lovely profile I’ve ever seen.

Sucking her lip into her mouth she kind of wanted to share this text with Louis but maybe it was too private. Maybe it was too ridiculous to believe that on her first attempt, her first profile and site she found someone so sweet.

If you don’t want to, I understand. But please be careful. If you’re not interested in traditional relationships this isn’t the site for you.

Then why are you on this site?

To find someone like you.

She frowned. Seems a little predatory :)

He sent an eye rolling emoji. Just trying to help you out, love.

She waited only a few moments this time before replying. You don’t want a traditional relationship?

It’s not a make or break it for this deal. I’m willing to work up to it if needed. I think you’re lovely and would like to spoil you however you see fit.

If she wasn’t careful, she was going to fall in love with his messages. That definitely couldn’t be part of the deal. Pacing in front of Eleanor’s refrigerator, she looked over the message that caused a flutter in her heart. Even her ex didn’t talk like that about her.

I think I’m interested. She messaged. What’s your name?

Harry. Harry Styles, love.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #ceo!harry #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #traditional

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