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charliemwrites · 9 months ago

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Mister(s) Steal Your Girl — part 3

(I seriously need to come up with an actual name for this series before it sets in)

Introducing his grand horniness- John “Soap” MacTavish

No Content Warnings

It’s been six, coming up on seven, dates with Kyle. A dwindling part of you feared that after the absolutely mind-blowing night you two shared, he’d ghost you or something.

But nope, the morning after was spent in one of his jumpers, receiving kisses and breakfast and tea. The two of you watched movies all day until he drove you home, kissing you at the door. He let you keep his jumper.

Not three days later, he invited you to a movie you’d both been excited to see, and giggled over the popcorn bowl like teenagers. He didn’t even mind that you leaned over to whisper during certain parts, or the ramble you went on afterwards. (When you apologized for overanalyzing and talking so much, he gave you a bizarre, almost offended look. “Don’t you dare stop,” he huffed, “you’re way better than radio. What did you think about that after credit scene?”)

A few days after that, he called with apologetic news.

“Being shipped out for a couple weeks. Shouldn’t be anything too dangerous, and I’ll call when I can,” he explained.

You told the nervous little twist in your gut that you knew this about him. That this is Kyle’s job, not a convenient excuse to ignore you.

“Stay safe regardless,” you murmured earnestly into the phone. “I‘ll… I’ll miss you, Kyle.”

“You’re getting the biggest hug when I get back, darlin’,” he promised.

He kept to it too. Called at odd hours sometimes - once during dinner with your fiance even. But Brandon is always taking random calls nowadays, so you figured, given the circumstances, it’s not such a big deal to excuse yourself either.

On the other end of the call, Kyle sounded a bit tired, but happy to talk to you. He couldn’t tell you anything about what he was doing, but shared some smaller, safer details. That the tea was shite because Soap kept over-steeping it. That his lieutenant was big enough to body slam him during sparring practice. That Captain Price wishes you well and promises to bring Kyle back in one piece.

You even heard one of his teammates in the background, asking Kyle if he was “chirping at his new bird.” Soap, as you found out. They sound like a good bunch.

When Kyle comes back, you offer to welcome him at his apartment. You bring a little plate of cookies and a pack of his favorite beer, hoping it’s not too much. But when he opens the door, his expression melts before he scoops you up in the big hug he promised.

“You’re a fuckin’ dream, ya know that?” he murmurs, tucking his face against your neck.

You spend the whole weekend with him, kissing at the stitched-up knife wound on his muscled arm. Otherwise, all in one piece.

“Would you… want to meet my mates sometime?” he asks as you’re getting dressed for work Monday morning.

“Of course,” you reply instantly. Realize that might be too eager. “If you want to introduce me, that is.”

“I want to show you off to the bloody Queen, babes.”

You giggle, crossing the room to drop a quick kiss on his lips. He tries to draw you in for something deeper, but you wiggle and swat at him, complaining that he’ll make you late.

It’s good, you think. Blissfully good. Honeymoon phase, maybe, but considering how far off your actual honeymoon is, you feel like you deserve this. Kyle is a wonderful partner - kind, attentive, respectful. He listens, he cares, he’s independent of you and respects your boundaries. Sometimes you can’t believe you were ever nervous about this open relationship thing in the first place.

On Wednesday of that same week, Kyle tells you that Soap is going to visit and is eager to meet you. He was thinking dinner and drinks, come back to Kyle’s apartment afterwards. You readily agree.

The next day, a bouquet comes in. It’s a beautiful, though not extravagant, arrangement. Calla lilies, roses, and hydrangeas. The note that comes with it says, “Wanted to make a good first impression in case Kyle told you lies.” It’s signed “Johnny.”

You send a picture to Kyle, amused and a bit endeared. It brightens the rest of your day so much that you barely notice Lucy’s usual snide comments.

On Friday night, Brandon is unexpectedly home. Usually he doesn’t even come home from work on Fridays anymore - or at least he didn’t before you met Kyle. Lately, you only pop in if you’ve forgotten something for your overnight bag. You had to stay late at the office today, though, and your apartment is closer than Kyle’s.

“Was thinking we could go out tonight,” he tells you.

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. Not just by the invitation, but by the mix of emotion in your gut. Some of it is excitement and relief, but not as much as you’d expect. It’s warring with unease and reluctance, a bit of frustration that now of all times he wants to reconnect.

“Um, raincheck?” you offer, smoothing down your dress. It’s a new one you picked out with Kyle; you’re hoping he (Kyle) will notice. “I have plans.”

Brandon’s brow furrows, smile going tight. “You can’t reschedule?”

God you hate confrontation and he knows that, doesn’t he? Why is he pushing?

“Well I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again,” you explain.

Suddenly the tension in his shoulders eases. “Oh, is it a few people then?”

“Just a couple. I’m meeting one of them for the first time.”

“Have fun then,” he says, fishing his phone from his pocket. Like you’re not even there anymore.

You blink, then your phone buzzes with a message from Kyle and you hurry out the door.

“I knew you’d look terrific in that dress,” he says as soon as he sees you.

Thoughts of Brandon, that strange interaction, and those churning feelings all disappear in an instant. Kyle just has a way of soothing you.

The restaurant is one that has quickly become one of your favorites with Kyle. Good food, good drinks, quiet and relaxed atmosphere. You like the funky artwork and squishy booths.

Soap (Johnny?) has already gotten your party a table, and stands as the two of you approach. You nearly stop right there, and then almost trip a bit as momentum urges you onwards. Manage not to make a fool of yourself, but you still boggle at him.

Because Kyle? You thought he was a fluke. Just too handsome to be real, never mind tall and fit and friendly and— well, anyway.

You thought he was a fluke.

But Soap/Johnny is goddamn handsome too! Trim stubble, pretty eyes behind thick lashes, a soft-looking Mohawk that gives him a boyish charm without seeming immature.

“There you two are, thought ye stood me up!” he greets, drawing Kyle into one of those friendly man-hugs with the shoulder pats that look like they hurt.

“Youre a cheap date anyway, MacTavish,” Kyle replies, gently easing you forward with a hand on the small of your back.

“Och, don’t bad mouth me in front of a lady,” Johnny/Soap complains, then turns his twinkling gaze to you and offers a hand. “John MacTavish, but this bampot calls me Soap.”

“Not Johnny?” you ask curiously.

You take his hand, find callouses similar to Kyle’s. But his palm is a bit broader, a scar along his thumb - from a burn it looks like. Just as warm, just as careful. A firm, but not tight shake.

“You can call me anything you like, lass,” he says. From the corner of your eye, you see Kyle choking back a laugh. Johnny it is, you figure.

“Wait ‘Soap’ is a callsign right?” you ask as Kyle herds you into the booth.

“Right-o,” Johnny replies, smiling.

“Does Kyle have one?”

The grin that he gives you would make the devil sweat. As it is, Kyle groans and shoots you a betrayed look.

“Oh does he, lass.”

You light up, grin right back. “Tell me?”

“As if I could say no to a pretty face like that!”

And so begins a long, warm, perfect night. Johnny is great company. Welcoming and friendly, quick to smile, sharp witted. You could sit all night listening to him and Kyle quip at each other, but they’re so careful to keep you included and engaged.

Johnny even offers you some of his chips when his order comes, and you’re too delighted to say no. Not that Kyle seems to mind, encouraging you to steal a couple for him since Johnny keeps whacking his hand away.

The night ends back at Kyle’s. You whip up another batch of cookies with some suspiciously new-looking baking ingredients. The boys keep you company while you work — Kyle mixes the batter when your arm gets tired and Johnny keeps your wine glass full. In the end, you let them each get a lick of the dough spoon.

Eventually, you move to the couch, climb on together. Kyle, for some reason, scooches you into the middle instead of one of the ends, but you don’t mind and neither does Johnny, it seems. They argue over a movie to put on, but it doesn’t matter because the three of you talk through most of it anyway.

The second movie is your pick, which is your downfall. You barely get halfway through before dozing off. End up stirring to muffled laughter and harsh whispering. You’ve slumped into Johnny, you realize, seeing Kyle’s broad smile.

“Oh,” you hum, trying to sit up. “‘M sorry…”

“You’re alright, lass,” Johnny murmurs, gently nudging you back down.

“Kyle?” you ask, yawning.

“Still watching the movie, sweetheart. You can go back to your nap. Soap’s nice and warm, yeah?”

You hum, snuggle in again. He is comfy. “So are you.”

Another quiet chuckle. “I know, love.”

He rouses you later — the movie must be over, you think blearily. Kyle scoops you up, plants a kiss on your cheek as you tuck in.

“Say good night to your teddy bear, baby.”

“‘Night, Johnny,” you mumble, nuzzling your face into Kyle’s neck.

“‘Night, bonnie.”

You wake first the next morning — rare and precious. Kyle is lying behind you snoring softly, arm around your waist. You wiggle around to watch his sleeping face for a minute, appreciating the peace in his features. Drop a whisper-soft kiss on his cheek and then slip out of bed.

He grumbles a bit, but you coo at him to go back to sleep and he subsides quickly. Once you’ve freshened up in the bathroom, you pad out to the living room. Johnny is up as well, watching tv on low volume with a coffee on his knee.

“Mornin’,” he says.

“Good morning,” you chirp back, continuing for the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” he observes, following.

“Slept well,” you reply, grinning. “Thanks in part to you. I hope that wasn’t uncomfortable.”

He ducks his head a bit, a light flush blooming across his ears and cheeks. “Nah, can’t complain about a pretty girl fallin’ asleep on me. Means I must have made a good impression, eh?”

“Oh! That reminds me - those flowers were gorgeous. Did you know calla lilies are my favorite?”

“Aye, Kyle’s been talkin’ about ya nonstop since ye met.”

It’s your turn to flush, and much brighter. You hurriedly turn to the cabinets.

“Well, thank you. I loved them.”

“Yeah? I’ll send you more then.”

Startled, you whip around on him, mouth stupidly open as you try to find a response. “You really don’t have to do that!”

“But what if I want to?”

And if you were struggling for words before, you’re hopeless now. So you just throw your hands up with a little “gah” sound and turn back to gathering ingredients.

“What are we making?” Johnny asks, taking mercy on you. Not that using that sly “we” isn’t devastating to your composure.

“My super special flapjack recipe,” you answer. “Could you get that big bowl down for me?”

He steps past you to do so while you dig out the measuring spoons from the dishwasher.

“If they’re as good as your cookies, then I’m gonna need extra PT after this weekend.”

“Good,” you reply, smug, “that’s my goal.”

“Dangerous woman.”

You snort, holding up a wooden spoon. “Oh yeah, I’m a real threat brandishing cooking utensils at a special ops guy.”

“Och, don’ sell yourself short - my nan used to be a menace with those things!”

Kyle exits the bedroom fifteen minutes later to the smell of cinnamon and his best friend with a face full of flour.

“…Do I even want to know?”

“Just be glad she’s on our side, Garrick.”

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Masterlist

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #get it? misters plural. because they all steal that girl #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #johnny mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #Brandon the crash dummy

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neil-gaiman · 10 months ago

Note

Hello Mr. Gaiman,

I had a recent experience that (kind of) revolved around your character Death and I thought you might enjoy the story!

So, to begin, it is important to mention that my mom has been a long time fan of yours, notably of your Sandman series, and even more notably of the character Death. As a young goth in the late 80s/early 90s she connected heavily with the character both because of your marvelous writing but also because she happened to look a lot like that character. During that time she also happened to be close friends with the comic artist David Hahn.

Cut to the present, a few weeks back, my mom and I were visiting Albuquerque where we are both from. During a lovely green chili filled lunch with my uncle he asked what we planned to do during our visit and we mentioned a few comic book stores we'd like to check out while in town. He proceeded to tell us about a store that they used to go to as teenagers (named Comic Warehouse) and mentioned that there was a drawing of my mom, as death, drawn by David Hahn, above the entrance to this place. My mom was skeptical at first, thinking perhaps he meant it was an illustration of death that just happened to look like her. Regardless, curiosity got the best of all of us as we went to investigate.

Upon arriving at the shop we were disappointed to find that no such picture of Death could be found above the door, or anywhere for that matter. After a few minutes of peaking behind shelves and double checking dusty corners, my mom built up the courage to ask the nice man working the desk if he happened to know about this particular illustration. After stating he knew not only David Hahn but even remembered some of her other friends that used to haunt the place, he then disappeared behind a wall of boxes. After a few anxious seconds he reappeared with the illusive drawing in hand! Not only were we all shocked to find that it still existed, but as it turns out my uncle was right! It was in fact a picture of my mom, as death, and it even contains a short note addressed to her, thanking her for a lift!

It was a wonderful and surreal experience to find a 30 year old illustration of my mom, drawn as what has also become one of my favorite characters, and I thought you might appreciate knowing what a long lasting and wonderfully strange impact your work has had on a couple weirdos from Albuquerque.

That made my day completely. Thank you!

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cherienymphe · 11 months ago

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Teenage Dirtbag IV (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

🎄 ༺𝓜𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂༻༺𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼༻🎄

“Oh! Well, aren’t those pretty?”

Your mother’s voice pulled your attention away from the flowers in front of you, throwing her a small smile as she neared you to admire them. You gave her the card when she eyed it, and you watched her smile grow, a fond chuckle escaping her.

“That’s sweet,” she praised. “Is Rafe coming by later?”

It seemed like such a silly question because you and Rafe saw each other almost every day, and your mother knew it.

“Yeah,” you sighed, sitting at the island and fingering a red petal. “He’s doing something for Ward, but he’s coming straight over when he’s done.”

She hummed, and you heard her fussing around in the drawers looking for something. Your gaze was glued to a rose, noting that Rafe got you red this time—your favorite—and you swallowed. It was always the same. Rafe would hurt you so bad that he felt compelled to make it up to you, the flowers would be delivered to your doorstep, your parents would gush, and you’d forgive him with a smile…and then the cycle would repeat.

You plucked a petal, rolling and squashing it between your fingers.

“It’s about time he starts getting prepped on all the family business, isn’t it?”

You glanced up as she took out a pan, her gaze briefly meeting yours.

“Yeah, I guess so. Ward has been asking him to do more things lately, and I know it’s usually work related, so…” you shrugged. “Only a matter of time.”

She seemed satisfied with that answer.

“Good,” she firmly said with a nod. “He can’t provide for you on daddy’s money forever.”

She chuckled to herself, but you could only swallow down bile.

“Rafe is upstanding and all of those things we want for you, but he needs to learn to make money on his own. We’ll never give him our blessing otherwise.”

Again, you said nothing, only looking at the stains on your fingers. Your entire volatile future being mapped out for you should’ve scared you beyond reason, and it sometimes it did, but in this moment, you only felt a numbness that was all too familiar. It all just felt so inevitable, so you didn’t see any sense in fighting it. With a sigh, you stood.

“I’m going to take these up to my room.”

“Put them on the table by your window, so they can get good sunlight,” she threw over her shoulder.

After doing what your mother advised, you turned to your mirror, intently staring at the face in the reflection. The fading bruise on your cheek was nowhere to be found under your makeup, and you were relieved that the same could be said for your neck. A deep inhale had your stomach aching only a tad, and you told yourself that Epsom salt baths could only do so much.

You rolled your eyes, lips pursing at the thought of JJ Maybank.

Naturally, you knew that this wasn’t really his fault. If Rafe were a normal boyfriend, you wouldn’t be covering up bruises with makeup and long-sleeved shirts in the house you’d rather not wear. You knew that Rafe didn’t actually need a reason and that no one could push him to do anything he didn’t want to do. Rafe was never the kind of guy to do anything he didn’t want to do. However, with all of that being said…

You really didn’t like JJ Maybank.

Some part of you knew that Rafe must have provoked him. You knew your boyfriend well, so you knew that without a doubt, but none of that changed the fact that you still had ugly discoloration from where Rafe had pushed you into his dresser. None of that changed the fact that JJ was the catalyst. Yeah, you probably shouldn’t have talked to him anyway, but you’d only been trying to be nice.

Trying to do the right thing.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the doorbell, and knowing that Rafe never rang it, you didn’t give it much thought. At least until you heard your mother calling your name moments later, and you were forced to descend the stairs in confusion. That confusion wasn’t eased in the slightest when you came face to face with Sarah.

She looked sheepish while your mother only smiled.

“Sarah’s here for you. I offered her something to eat, but she’s insistent that she isn’t staying long,” your mother said, briefly touching the other girl’s arm. “You tell Rose to call me. I have a bone to pick with her.”

They both chuckled—obvious that your mother was teasing—and you watched her disappear into the kitchen before resting your gaze on the blonde before you.

“I’m going to get something to eat at The Wreck. You want to come with me?”

You swallowed a sigh, glancing away and folding your arms over your chest. You didn’t know where this desire for a budding friendship came from, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. You and Sarah had only ever been friendly, and considering the company she kept, you’d had no desire for anything more. Being friends with Sarah just felt like a recipe for disaster.

“Sarah…”

She spoke up before you could, huffing and stepping towards you.

“I think Rafe treats you like shit,” she admitted, making sure her voice didn’t carry. “I know you love him and see something in him the rest of us don’t, but everything about you just seems wrapped up in him and…he seems very happy to keep things that way.”

You pressed your lips together, eyeing her.

“I don’t like it, and considering I don’t have much say, I figure the best I can do is be your friend. It’ll just make me feel better to know you have someone other than Rafe.”

Her lips turned up as she said his name, crossing her own arms over her chest.

“I’ve thought this for a while, by the way, and I just…” she shifted her feet, shrugging. “I don’t know. I just can’t take it anymore.”

With a sigh, you dropped your arms, and you knew that Sarah could tell what you were going to say.

“Come on! It’s lunch at The Wreck. We won’t be going all the way to Charlotte—Rafe will know where you are. He’s caught up with our dad, anyway, and they’re probably not going to be done until this evening,” she practically pleaded.

It was tempting, you had to admit, even if it did make you feel a little pathetic.

“I don’t know. I’d have to call Rafe and-.”

“You’d have to call Rafe, are you serious?” she scoffed before reaching for her own phone, and you reached for her. “I’m calling him.”

Your eyes widened.

“Sarah…”

Rafe’s tone could be heard even through the phone when he answered, and you felt your heart race.

“I wanna go to lunch with your girlfriend, and since you’re so uptight about knowing where she is at all times and who she’s with…”

The other girl trailed off as he spoke.

“Rafe, you’re stuck with dad for most of the day! I want to go eat, and I want her to come with me… Yes, just me,” she threw you a look at that to which you only looked away. “God, you’re so crazy, you literally treat her like a damn puppy.”

She shoved the phone at you, and understanding what was happening, you sighed.

“Hey,” you softly said once her phone was to your ear. “She just showed up here, Rafe and…”

“She said it’s going to be the two of you.”

You could tell by his tone that he wasn’t thrilled, right now, but you also knew it wasn’t just from Sarah and her antics. Rafe felt cornered. It wouldn’t look good for him to forbid you from going, and if he convinced you to give Sarah some piss poor excuse, she’d likely just ignore it. There wasn’t much you and Rafe agreed on, but you did admit that Sarah Cameron often got her way.

You heard Rafe mutter under his breath, and you didn’t doubt he was cursing Sarah’s name.

“I don’t see why she’s hellbent on butting into your life all of a sudden…”

His tone didn’t make you enthusiastic, and when your eyes met Sarah’s, they looked hopeful. You didn’t really understand why Sarah was taking so much interest in befriending you. You heard her reasoning, of course, but this was new territory, and you didn’t know how to handle it. However, you decided that it didn’t matter. Your boyfriend’s sister wanted to have lunch with you, and if it would satisfy her then so be it.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you told Rafe something you knew he’d like to hear.

“While I have you, I wanted to thank you for the flowers.”

You heard him exhale, and you didn’t need to be with him to know the look on his face. It was the look he often wore whenever he brought you flowers—a mix of smugness and triumph with that small smirk dancing along his lips. Rafe cared about being seen as the perfect boyfriend, but he also cared about your complicity just as much. If he could placate you after a really bad fight, then he could prevent the rare backlash.

The last time you’d threatened to leave Rafe after one of the worser fights was half a year ago. The bouquet he’d given you then hadn’t meant all that much to you when you threw them on the floor. It hadn’t ended the way you wanted to but instead in tears and Rafe convincing you that you were just upset and needed to cool down. He liked to avoid that if he could.

“I wasn’t expecting red, and I was just really happy to see that. It made me feel a lot better,” you told him.

Rafe was silent for a few moments before sighing, albeit with an annoyed lilt. Your gaze met Sarah’s again just as he spoke.

“Just for a little bit. Not too long because I could finish up early with my dad, so…”

“No, yeah, we won’t be long,” you assured him. “It’s just going to be me and Sarah.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said. Let’s hope it stays that way,” he told you.

His tone was clipped, and although he didn’t say it, you knew that there was a silent addition to that statement.

For your sake.

With a nod and a soft goodbye, you gave Sarah her phone back. Her face was expectant, and when you told her you needed to get your jacket, she beamed.

Sarah had a pout on her face as she played with one of her fries, shaking her head.

“I just don’t get it,” she mumbled. “What do you see in him?”

The drive to The Wreck was far from long and had mostly been filled with awkward small talk. You couldn’t recall a time you’d ever been alone with Sarah for this long, let alone long enough to have several conversations. It was such an odd thought considering you’d been dating Rafe for two years. The more the minutes went by though, the easier the conversation seemed to flow.

However, you now found yourself in the middle of lunch and on a topic you felt was inevitable, to be honest.

Sarah’s gaze was questioning, and you struggled to come up with an acceptable answer. You couldn’t very well tell her that her brother was actually an abusive rapist who terrified you beyond belief. You couldn’t tell her that he’d threatened to kill you on several occasions. It wasn’t possible to tell her that, in truth, you saw nothing worthwhile in Rafe, and you’d merely accepted your future with him.

Instead, you managed to think back to the very beginning of your relationship when you actually loved him.

“He knows what he wants, and I like that…”

It was a trait you’d admired in him once, feeling flattered by how boldly he’d asked you out. Those were the days when you looked forward to seeing Rafe and whatever gift he had for you and whatever date he had planned. That was a time when you’d literally fall asleep on the phone with him, and these days you would be relieved if you could go several hours without even hearing his voice.

“He’s also very generous, and he looks out for me, and he loves being around me. He’s just…so happy when we’re together.”

Everything that came out of your mouth was no longer applicable to your boyfriend, but at one point in time it had been. Without realizing it, your face fell, and you picked at your food. Sarah had a thoughtful look on her face as she mulled over your words before taking a sip of her lemonade.

“Looks out for you,” she repeated. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

You threw her a look, and she merely shrugged, throwing her hands up.

“I’m just saying! He treats you like he doesn’t want anybody to come near you,” she said, disgusted. “His own sister wants to hang out with you, and you needed to call him for that? That doesn’t sound crazy to you?”

The frown on her face was deep, and you only shrugged.

“You know what he’s like Sarah. You know how…paranoid he can get.”

“Yeah, paranoid that you might actually prefer being in someone else’s company instead,” she scoffed.

You merely sent her a small smile, thinking that she had no idea of the half of it. Before the conversation could continue, two familiar faces walked into the restaurant, and you felt your heart sink. Sarah seemed excited to see her friends, of course, while you, on the other hand, only had an aching desire to leave.

When your eyes met a slowly increasingly familiar blue pair, you couldn’t stop your frown.

You glanced away, and when Pope greeted you, you only sent him a smile in return. Telling yourself that you had the worst luck, you leaned over to reach for your purse. Sarah was talking to the two of them, but when she heard the sound of your keys, the conversation paused.

“I think I should go,” you answered the silent question on her face.

You hated the way it fell.

“We haven’t even been here an hour. Do…?” she trailed off glancing at Pope and JJ. “I know that it’s supposed to be just the two of us, but Rafe won’t know.”

“Sarah,” your tone said it all, and she stood up with you when you went to pay for your food.

“Stay,” she practically begged. “Rafe isn’t here to be his normal asshole self, and you know I won’t tell.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” you mumbled, craning your neck for either Mr. or Mrs. Carrera.

By the sound of her sigh, you had a feeling she’d witnessed JJ’s conversation with Rafe that day in their house.

“JJ didn’t mean much by that. He was just stooping to Rafe’s level, wanted to piss him off.”

“Well, you can tell him it worked,” you said, throwing her a tight smile.

Her brows drew together, and she ran her eyes over you, concerned.

“What, was Rafe mad at you for that?”

“What do you think, Sarah?” you slowly wondered, fully facing her.

You could see on her face that she hadn’t considered that possibility, and her shoulders sagged.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m sure JJ wouldn’t have said anything if he’d known it was going to come back on you. I’ll talk to him, just please stay.”

You touched your forehead, glancing over her shoulder and quickly looking away when your eyes met the man in question’s.

“They’re your friends, not mine. I really should go…”

She perked up.

“Well, they don’t have to just be my friends-.”

“No, Sarah. I can’t be friends with them-.”

“Why, because of Rafe?” she incredulously wondered. “Do you hear how crazy that sounds?”

You ignored her when the familiar woman came from the back, quickly paying for your meals. When you were done, you only gave Sarah an even look, grabbing your purse.

“You know what your brother is like. Pope can take you home, right?”

You could see on her face that she wanted to argue this some more, a deep frown on her face, but you witnessed the decision to save it for another time. You weren’t stupid enough to think she was going to let this go. She eyed you.

“We’re probably going to John B.’s later, so yeah. I can leave with them.”

Preferring to ignore her mood, you smiled and thanked her for the invite. You said goodbye to Pope and JJ on your way out, thinking of just how shitty your luck was. You’d never put it past Rafe to drop in on you, and you didn’t want to imagine how things would be if he witnessed you having lunch with anyone other than Sarah…but especially Pope and JJ. You were just at your car when you heard hurried footsteps behind you, and you tensed at the sound of your name.

Unfortunately, the face matched the voice when you turned around.

JJ wasn’t close to you, but he was close enough to where you leaned against your car in an effort to put space between you. If he noticed, he said nothing, and you watched him run his hand through his blond locks. You didn’t know what he wanted and considering the last result of a conversation with him, you warily eyed him.

“Look, Sarah told me that Rafe was mad at you about what I said,” he sounded apologetic. “I didn’t know that.”

“Why? You knew it would piss him off. That’s why you said it.”

He frowned, glancing away.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think…”

“At the very best you knew it would cause conflict between us. Again…that’s why you said it,” you told him.

JJ stared at you, and you watched him blink, tilting his head.

“Do you ever wonder why you have a boyfriend who loses his shit anytime you even so much as look at another man?”

You scoffed.

“Don’t try to turn this around-!”

“I mean, it’s the truth. You felt bad, you apologized, and call me crazy, but I don’t think that’s something he should get mad at you for,” he casually said with a shrug.

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t get paid to think.”

You watched his brows raise in shock at your words, a budding smile on his lips. JJ crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing you from head to toe, and you felt something twist in your gut at his perusal.

“Are you always this feisty or is that privilege just reserved for me?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to open your door when he spoke again.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I mean that…”

You hesitated, your gaze focused on your window. You stared at his reflection in it.

“I won’t say anything next time. Ever again, actually.”

With a resigned sigh, you accepted his apology, opening your door.

“There won’t be a next time,” you told him, glancing at him as you slid inside. “We’re not friends, JJ, and we’ll never be. Stop talking to me, I mean it.”

Your words held conviction, but you felt like JJ didn’t take them seriously. He only eyed you, slowly nodding as you closed your door. Resisting the urge to glance at him again, you drove off, only feeling relief the closer you got to your house.

It was the middle of the night when you found yourself in the Camerons’ kitchen, getting something to drink because sleep was evading you. You knew that you couldn’t be gone for long, no telling when Rafe would notice the lack of body heat next to him. The rest of the house was asleep, and Sarah was with John B.

…and so that was why you were startled by the front door opening.

You could tell they were trying to be quiet, but hushed tones and the shuffle of feet was loud to anyone who was awake—you. Blinking, and filled with a mix of curiosity and concern, you made your way to the kitchen entrance. It was dark, but not dark enough to make the three figures hard to make out. When you turned on the light, Sarah actually jumped in shock.

You could tell that she hadn’t expected anyone to be up, but even as she approached you, it wasn’t her nor John B. you were focused on. The blond with them looked almost unrecognizable to you, and you sharply inhaled at the sight of him. He was barely able to stand—no matter how much he tried to—and you could only pull your eyes away when Sarah whispered your name.

“I’m just here to use our first aid kit,” she told you, trying to explain. “John B. doesn’t have shit at his house, and Kie’s parents are so anal about JJ—any of her friends besides me, really.”

Once you gathered your thoughts, you blinked at her, shaking your head.

“It’s your house, Sarah. You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you assured her.

“I know, but I’d just really rather not wake anyone up…and it’s also not something I feel like explaining to anyone.”

She glanced over her shoulder, giving John B. a nod, and you watched him pull JJ towards the downstairs guest bathroom. Your lips parted, and you looked at Sarah again.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Sarah pressed her lips together, and when she rolled her eyes, you could see the irritation and anger on her features.

“He always is,” she snidely replied.

At your concerned and questioning look, her face fell some.

“It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before,” she finally admitted. “His dad…”

Sarah trailed off with a shrug, and you swallowed.

“Oh,” was all you said, your heart sinking. “I’d heard things, but…I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“I just don’t get why he doesn’t go live with John B. or something,” she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just because Luke is family…”

She sneered the man’s name, and you felt your frown deepen.

“It’s probably not that simple.”

At the look she gave you, you hurried to continue.

“I just mean it’s probably not that black and white for JJ. No one likes staying anywhere that’s bad for them, but maybe there’s a sense of loyalty he can’t shake yet,” you explained. “If he left his house for good, he just might end up feeling guilty.”

Sarah thought that over, eyeing you in the process.

“Maybe. That doesn’t make it any easier to witness this time and time again,” she sighed.

You didn’t say anything to that, unsure of what to say. When she left to join John B. in assisting their friend, you weren’t keen on retreating to Rafe’s bedroom just yet. You weren’t some professional psychologist, but you didn’t need to be to know why the sight of JJ and the confirmation of his volatile home life affected you so much.

The sight of his bloody and bruised face was unfortunately reminiscent for you.

Your feet made the decision for you, grabbing another glass of water before rummaging in your purse for some painkillers. Sarah was in the hall when you walked around the corner, and she straightened at the sight of you. The bathroom door was cracked, but John B.’s voice carried as he talked to JJ.

“Here, give him these.”

She took the pills and water with a small smile, thanking you. The moment was interrupted by JJ’s tone.

“I can stand just fine,” he sighed. “Just give me a minute…”

John B.’s protest was clear, but you surmised that JJ waved him off, getting his way when the door swung open. The brunette was briefly thrown by the sight of you before acknowledging you, making his way outside. The sound of your name in the air got JJ’s attention, and you wondered just how out of it he’d been to only just now realize you were up.

“Here. Y/N brought these for you,” Sarah told him, voice stern as she demanded he take them.

Getting the hint that he wanted a moment to himself, Sarah took a step back.

“Make sure he takes those,” she told you before going to join her boyfriend.

Truthfully, Rafe was the last thing on your mind as you looked at JJ. Now that his face was clean, he didn’t look as bad, but the bruising and cut on his lip still made you frown. You and he were so far from friends, so standing in the hallway while he leaned one hand on the sink started to feel awkward. You were just about to remind him of the pills and leave when he spoke.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

The observation wasn’t the most astute, and you frowned in confusion. When he swung his head to face you, straightening with difficulty, you didn’t miss the way his blue eyes ran along your face.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he repeated. “…and your face is caked in makeup. Is that one of Rafe’s conditions? Remain perfect at all times?”

You pressed your lips together as he popped the painkillers, swallowing them down with the entire glass of water. You couldn’t very well tell him that you’d spent fifteen minutes covering the bruises on your cheek and neck before coming down on the off chance that you ran into a Cameron that wasn’t Rafe.

“I forgot to wash my face,” was your simple answer.

Your tone was light, unconvincing, and you could tell that JJ didn’t believe you. You didn’t know how, but something about the glint in his eye told you so.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said. “About your dad.”

The blond moved to lean against the doorjamb, staring at you.

“Don’t be. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be,” you argued.

“Yeah, well, we’re both used to a lot of things we shouldn’t be,” he said, making you bristle. “I should’ve known better. After all…I know what he’s like.”

You didn’t appreciate having your own words thrown back in your face, doubly so because JJ didn’t realize just how much it messed with you. It was funny. When you told him that about Rafe, it made sense to you. That was how you maneuvered around Rafe and so you just wanted JJ to learn to maneuver around him the same way if he wanted to avoid his temper.

Now, however, hearing him repeat that about his own father just made you feel…nauseated.

“That’s not an excuse-.”

“Isn’t it?” JJ wondered, moving closer.

He held your gaze, and the look in his eyes had you biting the inside of your cheek. You couldn’t stop your frown, nostrils flaring at the words he silently threw at you. He didn’t say them, but he didn’t need to.

“That’s different,” you argued.

JJ frowned, head tilted in confusion.

“How so? My dad’s an asshole, Rafe’s an asshole,” he drawled. “Now, Rafe may not be a physically abusive asshole, but walking on tippy toes around him just to navigate his shitty personality isn’t exactly healthy.”

You stumbled back when JJ took another step towards you, lips parting when he cut you off.

“You can’t even have lunch with his sister without the fear of some guy that isn’t Rafe crashing the date…because you know he would just fly off the handle.”

You swallowed down your anger and annoyance at how right he was, glancing away with a huff.

“You don’t know anything about my relationship.”

“I know enough,” he fired back with a smirk.

When your back grazed the wall, it was then that you realized just how close he was. The bruising on his face looked so much scarier this close, and your eyes traced the blood on his lip. Your heartbeat was uneven at his close proximity, and you pressed yourself further into the wall. JJ’s eyes flitted between your own, and when you swallowed, they zeroed in on the action, gaze lingering on your throat.

“I know that if I kissed you, right now…” you sharply inhaled at that. “You wouldn’t tell Rafe…and not because you don’t want to hurt him…”

You slapped his hand way when it reached for your chin.

“…but because you’re fucking terrified of him.”

You furiously blinked, struggling to respond to that.

“You’re an asshole,” was all you could muster up with a frown, voice trembling.

JJ only softly chuckled to himself, nodding.

“Assholes are your type, so that doesn’t sting the same coming from you.”

Pushing your way out from in between him and the wall, you stomped away. You refused to look at him when he thanked you for the drugs, fighting to ignore the goosebumps along your arms underneath Rafe’s shirt.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron x reader #obx fic #obx fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #jj maybank imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #jj maybank fanfiction #obx imagine

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55szn · 6 months ago

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lacy - mv1

max verstappen x fem!driver!reader

summary yn can't keep hiding her true feelings towards max

wc 1,6 k (i was supposed to keep it short for this one but oh well)

warnings this one angsty as fuuuck, reader kinda sucks sorry

a/n first post of this series omg i'm so excited!!!!!! i haven't written in a while so this may not be the best of my works but this is still one of my favorites <33 also english is not my first language so...yeah

YN sighed as she pulled the balaclava off and immediately ran her hand through her sweaty hair, attempting to make it look decent. Once again she was finishing behind Max. The Dutch looked back at her as he got down from the top of his car and gave her a sweet smile, she tried her best to reciprocate that smile but it probably looked as fake as it felt.

She couldn't really pinpoint when her rotten mind had started to harbor these feelings towards the man she loved.

YN's first encounter with Max occurred when they were barely teenagers, amid the noisy circuits of karting competitions. There was something captivating in that lanky and slightly awkward teenager that drew YN to him like a magnet. As time went on, their bond deepened, among endless talks of shared dreams that seemed unreachable at the time.

The first time Max kissed YN, she felt in heaven, enveloped in a kind of excitement she had never known. It didn't take long before he asked her to be his girlfriend and she accepted thinking life couldn't get better than that.

The mutual decision to keep their relationship under wraps seemed obvious, a conscious choice made as they started their parallel journeys into Formula 1, that was not the kind of attention they were seeking.

She felt true happiness for Max's overwhelming success, she truly did, at least at the beginning.

But YN found herself caught in the shadow of his success, a place she hadn't anticipated occupying. Eventually every podium celebration and victory lap, served as a bitter reminder of the expectations she was failing to meet. She couldn't acknowledge these feelings so she masked this resentment beneath a facade of congratulatory smiles and kisses. The press was no help. They endlessly compared their careers and although YN had managed to get some satisfying results, she was nowhere near Max's level. They ate it up, it gave them good headlines to pit them against the other. They were the embodiment of a tantalizing narrative – two very young drivers with great success in the lower categories, shared dreams and a seemingly unbreakable "friendship", both coming into F1 with good teams and high expectations but only one of them was reaching those expectations. It was a good story, sure. But the story was tearing YN apart.

Perhaps the tipping point arrived with a very specific headline, its words forever etched into her brain: "Max Verstappen: Vettel reincarnate." With each syllable, YN's throat constricted, her stomach twisting into knots. Max seemed to effortlessly get everything she ever yearned for, now he was getting put at the same level as her biggest idol and inspiration which proved to be too much to handle for her. And with each of his accomplishments the poisonous seed of envy took root within her heart.

It was so contradictory, when she finally admitted it to herself. She loved Max more than she loved herself and maybe that was the root of the problem, her own insecurities and bruised ego. But it was becoming impossible to fake a smile every time she saw him on that top step. She knew it wasn't true but she almost felt like Max was out to get her.

She hated Max. And she hated herself for that fact. How could one harbor so much love and hatred for someone at the same time?

She was loosing her mind, her fragile facade crumbling under the weight of her emotions. Of course the ever attentive eyes of the press and the fans noticed the way her once adoring glances towards Max were now replaced with icy stares. How she couldn't even make the effort to raise the corners of her mouth whenever Max complimented her skills or her racing. His tenders words of admiration which once felt like a warm summer breeze began to feel like bullets grazing her already wounded skin, they felt like mockery. It was only a matter of time until Max started noticing this too.

Something was clearly happening, and that's why he found himself knocking on her apartment's door late at night, the echoes of the particularly hard weekend YN had endured still reverberating through his mind. The bitter taste of failure and disappointment still lingered on her lips. YN had struggled with the car and couldn't even make it out of Q2, and Sunday's race offered little reprieve, finishing in a P11 that tasted of unfulfilled expectations. While, of course, Max had made a brilliant pole position and had won the race, once again making everyone worship the ground he walked on. He hadn't seen YN since the race finished. She flew back to Mónaco that same night without even letting him know and without even asking if he wanted to fly back with her, which was the case almost every weekend. Max wasn't stupid, he could tell something was up with her lately, the distance she was putting between them, he was loosing her. And he loved her too much to let her go without a fight.

The door creaked open, YN's figure against the dim lighting within. Her jealous eyes clouded with heavy feelings. She stepped aside wordlessly, allowing Max to enter, her silence was louder that any word could ever be.

He carefully walked in, the all too familiar environment of his girlfriend's apartment suddenly feeling cold and foreign. Max was tense before taking a seat on the armrest of her couch. His heart felt heavy, he already wanted to cry. He had trouble getting the words out, something that had never happened in the years he had known YN. What had they become?

He swallowed dry before finally finding his voice. "I think we need to have a talk." His gaze was pleading for her to meet his eyes, but she kept staring at her shoes.

She froze at his words and her fingers tightened around the edge of the table she was leaning against. She could tell this conversation was coming, yet she dreaded the flood of emotions threatening to consume her, scared of the things she could say.

"What is it, Max?" Her voice was strained, an inner battle developing inside her, trying to control her emotions.

"You know what it is about, schat." Her jaw tightened at the pet name, now it somehow sounded condescending, even though deep down she knew that wasn't true. "YN something's been bothering you lately. I know it. Please talk to me."

YN's heart clenched painfully at his words, her resolve crumbling under the weight of her own inner turmoil. How could she even begin to articulate the burning envy and resentment that coursed through her veins every time she looked at him? How could she admit out loud to hating the man she loved more than life itself?

When she finally looked up and met his stare she felt the monstrous feeling that had been gnawing at her conscience completely engulf her and she wasn't in control of her own words anymore. Her eyes burning with a contradictory mix of longing and loathing. "Are you seriously asking me that, Max?" Her voice trembled with suppressed emotion.

Max recoiled at the intensity of her stare and her tone, a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach by the anticipatory feeling of his world crumbling down completely. "YN, I..."

"You know damn well what's going on." YN's voice cracked with emotion, her words laced with a bitterness that made it unrecognizable to both of them. "You have everything, Max. The wins, the championships, the adoration of the whole fucking world. Everything I ever wanted, you took it for yourself." She knew she wasn't making sense, the words were spilling out of her mouth before she had the time to catch them.

Max's heart constricted with an unfair amount of guilt. "YN, I... I had no idea you felt this way."

"And why would you?" She retorted, her voice rising with each word. "You're too busy basking in your own glory to notice how much it's killing me to be constantly compared to you." That wasn't his fault, and she knew it. It was the pure and evil hatred that consumed her that was speaking those words.

He felt like he had been punched in the gut. "I'm sorry." He shouldn't have to apologize for what he accomplished after years and years of hard work, yet he did, the fear of loosing her bigger than the need to acknowledge his self worth.

The hurt mirroring in his eyes was obvious, her tone softened before she spoke again. "You don't have to apologize, Max. You deserve it, you deserve it so much. I know that and you should too." She took a sharp breath in. "But knowing that doesn't change how I feel. I...I hate you."

He looked at her, stunned. His heart plummeted to his stomach. Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their meaning.

"I do. I hate you Max. I hate you for being able to get everything I've only ever dared to dream of." She couldn't believe she was admitting it to Max's face, breaking the heart of the man she claimed to love.

Max felt as though the ground had been ripped out from under him, the sting of her words cutting deeper than any wound ever could. "I can't believe you're saying this," he mumbled, his voice chocked.

"I wish I didn't have to Max but I can't bear to keep lying to your face. I wish I could just pretend like everything's okay, like I'm still happy for you. But I can't, I'm sorry." YN's voice cracked with the weight of her confession, tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at him with a strange mix of love and loathing. "I love you too much to keep lying to you."

The silence was sepulcral, years and years of shared moments full of love completely destroyed by the sick envy that had infected YN.

But the truth is, their love was doomed from the beginning.

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puckinghischier · 7 months ago

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Hat Trick

Nico Hischier x fem!reader, Jack Hughes x platonic!reader, Luke Hughes x platonic!reader

summary: part 4 of the locksmith series! reader attends her first ever devil’s hockey game, and leaves a few pucks richer than when she came

notes: y’all i think this is my favorite part of this lil series so far. i literally wrote this in one sitting. i’m so happy with how it turned out. i hope you are too!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

[6k]

part 1, part 2, part 3

You’ve been to a lot of Hughes centered hockey games in your life. You’ve been to watch both Quinn and Luke play during their time in Michigan, and you’ve been to watch several of Jack’s minor league games when you were teenagers.

Though somehow, despite how long you’ve been intertwined with the hockey breathing family, you had never been to a professional game. You talked about making a trip to Vancouver with your family at some point to watch Quinn, but it never worked out with your school schedule. You wanted to come watch Jack with the Devils a few times, too, but the plans always fell through.

You wish you’d tried harder right about now, because walking into the Prudential center, red and black everywhere you look, you’re a little overwhelmed.

Jack had told you exactly where to go and who to call if you got lost, but getting there wasn’t the issue. Finally having your car with you helped with that, considering it was delivered just yesterday. The company that you hired to haul your car to you had gotten the date of your move wrong, so you had been depending on Jack and Luke for rides anywhere outside of walking distance.

Today, though, they were needed at the rink far earlier than you would’ve been allowed in. And, in true superstitious hockey player fashion, they claim they can’t ride to the rink together for home games because the last time they did they lost the game. So, you were extremely excited when you got the call that your car had just been parked outside of the apartment complex the day before.

You had found the arena just fine, leaving your car with the valet Jack had told you to go to. You had gone to the entrance designated for friends and family of the players, flashing the locker room pass Jack had given you, and even managed to find your way to the public areas of the arena by yourself.

The issue you had run in to stems from the fact that not only had you never attended an NHL game before, but you had never attended an NHL game alone.

Even though you blended in with the crowd outwardly, donning a devil’s jersey like everyone else, you were way out of your element. Usually at the boys’ games you had Ellen and Jim with you, or your own parents. They always made you feel like you belonged a little more, because they would explain certain fan behavior to you.

You knew all you had to do was simply sit and watch the game, but with the energy being so chaotic leading to the rivalry game, you knew that the fans were going to be absolutely buzzing. People were walking past you, jumping in front of you for high-fives and fist bumps, yelling “GO DEVS!” before walking away like nothing had ever happened. You didn’t miss the occasional dirty look from anyone in a blue Rangers jersey, either.

When you had first made your way to the foyer area at the front of the arena, you had already seen security having to separate a Devils fan and a Rangers fan. They had been screaming at one another over something that you couldn’t make out when the Rangers fan slammed his fist into the Devils fan’s cheek.

The scene made you a little apprehensive about how the game was going to go. You knew this was one of the biggest rivalries that existed in the hockey world, and you had read that the Rangers had a tendency to play extremely physical, so you were nervous for all of the Devils players you were growing fond of.

You eventually make your way to your seat, but not before going full fan mode and buying a foam finger at one of the many merchandise stands you passed on your way. You thought Jack and Luke would get a kick out of it, figuring you’d need all the help you could get after they see what you’re wearing.

You kept your promise to Nico, currently sporting the number 13 on your back. You felt a little silly, honestly. You had never not worn a Hughes jersey to a hockey game before; you always wore the jersey of whatever brother you were watching, even if you had to buy one. But the conversation you had with Nico a few nights prior kept playing on a loop in your mind. The promise of a hat trick was too tempting to miss out on. Plus, even if he didn’t get a hatty, you knew you’d have the chance to make him do anything you wanted him to.

As you walk down the stairs towards your seat, foam finger on display proudly, you take in the pure atmosphere of the place. The arena looked huge from where you stood, lights dimmed and a red shadow cast over everything in sight. Not many people had made their way into the seating area yet, but there were a few fans bunched around the glass, waiting for the players to come out and start their warm ups.

You were pleasantly surprised when you found your seat free of any bodies, being able to settle in and wait for the arrival of the players on the ice. As the minutes ticked by, a few people made their way to your area, smiles and chants of ‘go Devils!’ once again filling the air around you.

You could see why people enjoyed coming to games so much. The sense of community was so strong in this building. Everyone was here to support the same cause, one goal in mind: a Devils win. You started to survey all the signs that fans had brought, setting them up against the glass for the players to see. Some of them had clever saying or riddles on them, some simply reading “puck?” with their favorite player’s number on it.

You also noted how many people were wearing Jack and Luke’s last name on their back. Even as you were driving up to the arena, you noticed the large presence of 86’s and 43’s surrounding you. It was odd, really, to see how many people were supporting your boys. It made your heart swell with pride, a little bit. To physically see the amount of people that believe in them the way you always have was enough to sell you on attending every Devils game from here until the end of time.

The newfound knowledge also further calmed your nerves surrounding your decision of wearing Nico’s jersey tonight. You had seen plenty of number 13’s floating around in the crowd, too, but Jack and Luke clearly had no lack of fan support.

The sound of pucks hitting the ice is what broke your attention from observing the people around you. You instantly clocked Luke’s curls, finding Jack not far from where Luke had settled on the ice. You looked around, trying to find a familiar head of brown hair you hadn’t seen nearly enough. Was he not warming up today? Was he okay? Did Luke actually hurt him the other day and he wasn’t playing today?

You don’t remember either of your roommates mentioning that their captain was hurt. That’s something they would’ve mentioned at least once, right? You continue to scan the ice for any sign of the Swiss man you couldn’t get off of your mind, not paying attention when Jack started skating in your direction. A loud bang on the glass in front of you was what finally broke your investigation.

“You’re here!” Jack yells through the glass at you, ignoring all the shouts of his name from the people standing around you.

“I told you I wasn’t going to miss it!” you shouted back, wondering if he could even hear you in the noisy environment.

Movement behind Jack caught your eye, Luke making his way over to stand next to his brother, causing an entirely new wave of sound to erupt around you.

“Bouy! You made it!” Luke shares his brother’s surprise, eyes flitting down to the jersey you’re wearing, noticing the black C that neither his nor Jack’s jersey had.

“Did you guys really have no faith I would show up tonight? Am I that bad of a friend?” you ask them, wondering why they thought you would be a no-show.

“Know it isn’t your scene, is all,” Jack shouts back, shrugging his shoulders, smile on his face.

“Uh-uh, it is now. Look, I even bought a foam finger! I’m legit, now!” you wave your newest Devils merch around.

They both shake their heads and laugh, your eyes wandering to the ice behind them once again.

“Who ya looking for, huh?” Luke is the one to notice they no longer held your attention, turning his head to look at his teammates warming up behind them.

“Oh, no one. Just, taking it all in,” you try to recover. Luke simply looks at you, the moment he caught you staring at Nico in your living room in the back of his mind.

“It’s awesome, right? I’m telling you, you’ll be wanting to come to every home game by the end of the night. There’s nothing like a Devils home game,” Jack tells you, oblivious to Luke’s implications moments ago.

Jack must have decided it was time to acknowledge some of the fans around you, skating off after he finishes his statement.

“He’ll be out in a minute, just so you know. Got hung up in a pre-game interview,” Luke’s muffled voice travels through the glass.

“Huh? Who? What’re you talking about?” you look at him, confusion taking over your features.

Luke deadpans at you, basically telling you to cut the bullshit. “You know who, Y/N.”

“Really, don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here for you and Jack, remember?” you remind him.

“Yeah? Then why do you have Cap’s jersey on?” Luke questions, raising an eyebrow at you.

Your head shoots down to look at the jersey you were wearing, cheeks turning red. You had almost forgotten you were even wearing it, too distracted by the atmosphere around you.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with that, by the way. He’ll be getting an earful once he gets out here, don’t you worry. And god help him when Jack finally notices. Might be the first time a player gets a penalty against his own teammate,” Luke continues, looking over to where Jack is chucking pucks over the ice a few feet away.

“It was Nico’s idea. Said he wanted to mess with you guys, is all. Then said if I wore it he would score a hat trick, and if he didn’t he owed me a favor of my choosing. Figured it’d be fun to mess with him and make him do some outrageous task. You know I never miss the opportunity to get under yours and Jack’s skin, either. Couldn’t resist the offer,” you confess.

Luke rolls his eyes, not wanting to call bullshit out here in the open like this, deciding to save the rest of the conversation for when you get home tonight.

You were going to respond, try to further plead your case, when you see a blur of red jump onto the ice from over near the Devils’ bench. Any attention you had granted to Luke was gone, watching a much anticipated head of hair flopping around as Nico does a few circles on the ice. You watch him wave to a few fans around the glass, conversing with a few of his teammates as he made his way around the ice.

Luke watches you follow Nico’s figure glide around on the ice, laughing to himself at how you were just trying to convince him you weren’t looking for anyone.

“I think I’ve proved my point,” you barely hear as Luke starts to skate away, noticing his captain skating over towards your section of the glass.

You’ve tuned out the shouts of Nico’s name around you as he makes eye contact with you, skating towards you with a smile.

“Hey! You’re here!” he winks at you, parroting Jack and Luke’s words. “And I see you chose the right jersey!” he lets his eyes fall to the jersey swallowing your body, eyes a bit bright than they were a few seconds ago.

“Why did no one think I was going to show up?” you huff out, throwing your arms up, foam finger still attached to your hand.

“Jack and Luke were convinced you’d bail because of your aversion to hockey crowds. But I see you’ve made yourself right at home,” he chuckles, nodding towards the foam finger.

“Well, yeah. Had to make myself official, y’know?” you give the foam accessory a small wave.

Nico laughs, sliding his feet back and forth in short strokes, planting his stick on the ice for stability.

“You ready to score that hat trick you promised, Cap?” you shout to him, crossing your arms in a challenging stance.

“Never been more ready in my life, Bouy,” Nico smirks.

“If you keep using that nickname I won’t be so nice in choosing a favor for you to do when you don’t score your hatty,” you threaten, hating that Jack introduced the nickname to Nico in the first place.

“Oh, I’m gonna score that hatty,” he moves closer to the glass, making sure you can hear him. “My good luck charm did exactly what I asked her to do, so I’d say my chances are pretty solid.”

You’re so focused on Nico’s words that you completely miss Jack making his way back over to your area, slapping Nico on the back once he reaches his destination.

“Hey, Cap! ‘Bout time you made it out here. Was starting to wonder if someone was going to have to come and save you.”

Nico removes his eyes from your flushed face, turning to chat with Jack as you’re left speechless.

You miss the rest of their conversation, too caught up in Nico calling you his good luck charm. You were entering very dangerous territory, here. Every conversation you have with the man bringing you farther and farther into a rabbit hole you might not be able to climb back out of.

On top of being stunned, you’re also confused. You’ve overheard Luke and Jack talk about Nico’s interactions with women. The amount of times they’ve poked fun at his obliviousness to women’s advances not forgotten. Or the way they claim he’s too focused on his career to think about anything other than hockey. You remember one story Jack told of Nico completely misreading a conversation with a woman at the bar, begging Jack to take him home after he all but ran away from the woman, claiming a stomach ache when she tried to coax him into an uber.

So, what was different about you? He clearly had no issues with casually sliding in comments that, although you try to convince yourself otherwise, are naturally flirtatious in their nature. When you let your eyes wander you notice Luke watching the interaction. He follows the way Nico’s gaze flicks over to you every few seconds, even though he’s in the middle of a conversation with Jack. Luke meets your eyes and gives you look you can’t decipher.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you wearing?” you hear Jack’s voice, snapping your head to look at his face, his eyes focused on the black C on the upper left side of the jersey you’re wearing.

“A…jersey?” you answer apprehensively.

“Yeah, I can see that. But why do you have on Neeks’ jersey, specifically?” He asks you, but looks at the player standing next to him.

“Guess she decided the better jersey wasn’t even in the Hughes family at all,” Nico references the argument Jack and Luke were having days prior.

Jack looks back at you, expecting an explanation from you. You open your mouth a few times to answer, but the reasoning of ‘I just wore it to get under your skin’ doesn’t seem appropriate when you can see the underlying anger on his face.

“You know what, I don’t have time for this. I need to actually warm up, but this conversation isn’t over,” Jack shoots to two of you a glare before skating away, huffing like a little kid.

“I knew he would get mad!” you point an accusing (foam) finger at Nico.

“Don’t worry, he’ll get over it. It’s just one game.”

“Well I’ll let you handle this then, mr. nonchalant. It was your idea, it’s your bomb to diffuse,” you wipe your hands of the situation.

“Gladly,” Nico flashes you a smile. “By the way, heads up,” he warns you before chucking a puck over the glass, watching it land on the ground beside you. You bend over to pick it up, noticing the writing on the back.

You read the scribble of “hatty” followed by the date and Nico’s signature in silver marker, looking up to see him skating off with a wink.

———————————————————————————

After you watched Jack throw his fit about you wearing Nico’s jersey from afar, earning nothing but a laugh from the jersey owner himself, they both skated away from each other to start actually warming up for the game ahead. You noticed Jack kept glaring at Nico, shoulder checking him a few times for good measure. Jack wouldn’t even look over at you, earning a pout from you when you made eye contact with Luke, begging him to do something to make Jack love you again.

Luke just shrugged at you as if to say “told you so,” choosing to focus on his warm ups instead. As the players left the ice to prepare for puck drop, you watched Jack finally look over to you, sporting a glare and giving a shake of his head before he disappeared from your view.

Even after the game started, you could still feel Jack’s pouting from where you sat. He was hesitant to pass the puck to Nico, costing them a few chances at goals. You cursed him every time, worried that this would’ve happened. You don’t know what was said, but during one of the tv timeouts, Nico skated over to Jack and all you could see was a finger poking out to jab Jack in the chest. Jack’s face grew more and more unimpressed as the conversation went on, but ultimately Jack nodded and skated off, rolling his eyes when he looked over to you.

For the rest of the period, you noticed Jack was better about passing the puck, no longer alienating Nico from his plays. He was still mad, though. You could see it in his body language and how he was playing rougher than he normally does. As soon as the first period was over, you were out of your seat and making your way down to the locker rooms. You flashed your pass and waited patiently after you asked someone to go fetch Jack for you, claiming it was an emergency.

Jack comes walking out of the locker room into the hallway, towel around his neck, jersey left behind.

“Okay, get it all out now, or so help me god I’ll jump onto that ice and beat some sense into you,” you tell him, wanting him to get all of his anger out of his system.

“You always wear one of our jersey’s, Y/N. Always. This is your first time watching me and Luke in a professional game, and you’re wearing someone else’s jersey?” Jack asks you, a small bit of hurt showing on his face.

“Jack, it was a joke. A last minute plan between the two of us. We thought it’d be funny since you and Luke were arguing about it,” you tell him, feeling a little bad that he genuinely seems hurt. “Plus, I didn’t really want to choose between you and Luke. It was hard. I had all three jerseys laying on my bed earlier, and I just couldn’t choose between the two of you.”

“I still don’t like that you wore someone else’s jersey,” Jack grumbles.

“It’s just one game, Jack, it’ll be fine. I promise this isn’t going to become a habit,” you assure him, reaching up to ruffle his hair, regretting your decision when you feel how sweaty it is.

“You sure about that?” Jack asks you, catching you off guard.

“What?”

“Oh c’mon, Y/N,” Jack starts, dropping his arms to his sides. “Don’t act like you haven’t been staring at him the whole game.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you feel your cheeks heating.

“You can’t lie to me, remember? Know you too well,” he tells you, reminding you he’s always been able to tell when you’re caught in a lie.

“I mean…maybe I’ve been watching him. So what? He’s your friend, Jack. Not to mention our neighbor and the only teammate of yours I really know,” you try to justify.

“Bullshit. You’re into him.”

“No, I’m not!” you say too quickly, your voice going up in pitch, causing you to clear your throat. The sudden change in conversation came out of nowhere, causing your brain to short circuit.

“Oh yeah? Then why do you ask about him every time Luke and I mention practice, or our jobs in general? Why do you always ask us if Nico made it home when we get home from practice? Or when you spent basically the whole night talking to him at the bar your first night here?” Jack asks you, waiting for your answers.

“I- I don’t ask about him that much,” you say, trying to retrace your conversations with Jack and Luke. Maybe you do ask about him more than you thought. “And I spent the night at the bar being shuffled around from table to table, which you did!” you remind him, having felt like you were speed dating, but platonically.

“When I came to get you to leave you were completely alone with him in a dark corner of the bar,” Jack throws back at you.

“He came and found me. I was on the phone with my mom and he decided to come check on me. I had nothing to do with that,” you defend.

Jack still doesn’t look convinced, crossing his arms once again, tilting his head towards you. “Listen, I’m not trying to start an argument. You know how I feel about having a thing for my teammates. But, out of all the guys on the team, I guess you could’ve done worse.”

You open your mouth to respond, trying to defend yourself once again, but Jack interrupts you before you can get a word out.

“Listen, none of this is really important right now. We can talk about it when I’m not in the middle of a game, but I still don’t really like that you wore his jersey instead of mine or Luke’s,” he circles back to the original conversation. “I mean, you’ve known him for like, two weeks. Joke or not. You know what people think when you wear someone’s jersey, right?”

“It’s not like that, I swear. And it’s not like I’m the only one here wearing his jersey, Jack,” you tell him.

“I know, but I’m just telling you to be careful. Nico’s a good guy, but he’s also a professional hockey player. He’s going to have…admirers. And once they see that you’re actually close to the team and his jersey is the one you’re sporting, things could get messy,” Jack warns you.

You stood there for a few moments, trying to figure out how the conversation even led to what it is. You know Jack is just trying to watch out for you, but he’s jumping to conclusions way too soon. It’s one game, and no one even knows who you are. Plus, it’s a harmless joke. It’s not like you’re wearing his jersey for any other reason.

“Thanks, Jack, really. But I assure you, I only wore it because he suggested it. He wanted to pick fun at you and Luke, that’s it. I’m sure he’ll tell the same story if asked about it,” you reiterated, trying to reassure him.

“Wait, he asked you to wear his jersey?”Jack asks you, surprise in his eyes.

“Yeah, he asked me to wear it to poke fun at the two of you. Then told me he’d score a hat trick if I agreed to wear it, so I did. Thought it’d be fun to see,” you shrugged, not seeing the big deal.

“So, he wanted you to wear his jersey and he promised to score a hatty if you did?” You nod at Jack’s echo of your words.

Jack stares at you, looking like he wants to say something but decides against it. The look on his face has you wondering if he knows something you don’t. You decided to let it go, though, and shoo him back into the locker room.

“Alright, talk over. Go back in there and get ready, you have some Rags to beat!” you push him away from you. You hear him laugh as you walk away, thinking about the conversation the whole way back to your seat.

———————————————————————————

Shit. He actually did it. He scored a fucking hat trick. The crowd goes absolutely wild when Nico’s shot sails straight into the goal as the buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game. You jump up from your seat, screaming as loud as you can with the crowd around you. You bang against the glass, cheering for Nico as he celebrates with his teammates.

Once he breaks away from the group hug, he skates right over to you, pointing a gloved finger in your direction. You flash him a huge smile, not even caring that you lost whatever bet – if you could even call it that – you had going on with Nico. You were too high on the atmosphere. The goal causing the Devils to win in the last second, ego a little inflated at the thought that you could’ve contributed to it.

After the players left the ice and the crowd started to disperse a bit, you slowly made your way back down to the locker room, having been told to wait there after the game by Jack. You took in the sight of the happy fans milling about the arena, soaking in the energy for a little bit longer. You didn’t realize just how much you were soaking it in until you realized the time, figuring the guys would be changed and ready to go any minute.

As you were walking down the hallway to where other friends and family of the team gathered, you felt a harsh contact with your shoulder. It flung your body back, nearly making you lose your balance until you caught yourself at the last second.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you,” you said, knowing it wasn’t your fault, but apologizing anyways.

“Obviously,” you heard a deep voice say, a man in a blue Rangers jersey standing across from you, rolling his eyes.

“Well, no need to be rude about it. You bumped in to me, y’know,” you grumbled out, a little pissed as the man’s response after you apologized first.

“Watch it, bitch. Just cause your shitshow of a team won tonight doesn’t mean you’re truly better than us. Just wait till next game. We’ll smoke your asses,” he spits out at you, letting you smell the alcohol on his hot breath.

“What the hell does the game have to do with you bumping in to me? The two are completely unrelated,” you question, stepping back and scrunching your nose at the foul smell.

“Keep talking, bitch, and I’ll show you just how bad we can beat the Devils asses,” the man steps forward, stumbling a bit before correcting himself.

“Alright, chill out. It’s just a game, buddy,” you back up against the wall next to you, trying to put some distance between you and him.

“God, why do you puck bunnies never shut the fuck up? I literally told you to stop talking, what part of that don’t you understand?” he backs you up even further, not leaving much room for you to make an escape.

“Technically you told me to keep talking,” you say before you can think better of it.

The man basically growls at you raising his hand back. To do what, you never find out, because a voice brings him back to reality, making him seem to remember he’s in public.

“I suggest you drop your hand and step away.”

The man’s head whips around, looking behind him. Once he steps back from you slightly, you make your escape, removing yourself from the wall.

You see Nico standing a few feet away from you, a grey suit on his body, his hair covered by a cream color beanie.

“Oh, how convenient. Captain to the rescue,” the guy slurs, turning his body to fully face Nico.

“Do I need to call security or are you going to be smart and get the fuck out of my arena?” Nico spits, surprising you with his harshness.

“Whatever. I’m going. Don’t be so dramatic. The puck bunny started it, anyways,” the man waves you off, stumbling away without a glance back.

Nico watches him walk away, stepping towards you the second the man is out of view.

“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you? Do I need to go get security?” He fires off questions, concern present in his brown eyes.

“No, I’m fine. He bumped into me then started spewing some bullshit about the game. I asked him how the two were related and he just kept talking about how he was gonna show me how ‘we can really beat the Devils asses’,” you put up air quotes.

“Are you sure?” his eyes continue to look you up and down, darting across your face to check for any sign showing you weren’t okay.

“Really, it’s fine. He didn’t do anything. Thank you, though. For scaring him away,” you assure him, causing him to relax.

“Of course. Seems to be a pattern, after all. Me running to your rescue,” he references your previous encounters. Letting you into your apartment, getting the bartender’s attention so you could order a drink that same night, his help when you were making dinner just a few nights ago. He really did always show up when you needed help.

You look up at him with a smile. “My very own knight in shining armor.”

He bows dramatically. “M’lady.”

You laugh at the action, causing Nico to join in.

“So I guess I owe you a congratulations, huh?” you ask after your laughter dies down.

Nico beams at you, pulling a stack of three pucks out of the bag slung over his shoulder, the tape they’re held together by reading ‘hat trick”. He holds them out towards you, signaling you to grab them.

“Here, they’re yours. You’re the reason I got them, after all,” he tells you, placing the pucks into your hand.

“I don’t think I had anything to do with it,” you look at your hand before looking back up at Nico.

“Sure you did. I told you if you wore the jersey I’d score one. And you did. And then I scored three goals. I told you, you’re my goodluck charm,” he smiles at you, shrugging like a hat trick was no big deal.

You roll your eyes at him, trying to fight a smile. “Sure, whatever you say, Cap.”

He chuckles at your sarcasm, shaking his head at you.

“Guess I need to pocket that ridiculous favor I had in mind, then,” you tell him, toying with the pucks, thinking about how he gave you four different ones tonight.

“I’m sure you can save it for future use. Think you’ll be able to cash it in sooner than you think,” he tells you, a confused look on your face.

“You won, though. I wore the jersey, you scored three goals. That was the whole thing,” you remind him, not knowing where he was going with his statement.

“You never asked me what I got if I did score a hatty.”

You were taken aback by his words, not realizing that was part of the deal. “Okay…well, what do you get, then?”

“You have to do me a favor,” he tells you, grin on his face.

You furrow your brows, confused. “I thought the whole point of my end of the deal was because I already did you a favor?”

“You did. But now I get to ask you for another one,” he rocks back on his heels, way too giddy about the situation.

You look at him, a little scared at what he has planned. He just continues to look at you, his shit-eating grin still extremely present.

“Okay…what is it?” you ask him, getting impatient.

“Oh, I’m not telling you yet. I’ll cash it in when I’m ready,” He replies, amused at the unamused look on your face.

“Seriously? You’re not going to tell me what cruel fate you’re subjecting me to?”

You hear the voices of Jack and Luke echoing through the hallway on the other end of the room. You turn your head away from Nico, watching the two brothers make their way towards you, lost in their own conversation.

“All in due time, dear Bouy,” Nico says, taking a step back from you.

Your distaste for the nickname shows on your face, causing Nico’s eyes to twinkle, loving how mad you get over the silly name he still hasn’t learned the origin of.

“Whatever. Keep it to yourself, then. I don’t care,” you lie.

“Have a good night. See you soon,” Nico says with a wink, turning to walk in the direction of Jack and Luke, giving them a wave as he passes them. Both of them look up and notice you standing where he just came from, turning to look at each other with raised eyebrows.

You look down at the pucks in your hand once more, looking at the emblem on top noting what game and date they were from. When you look at the bottom of the last puck, you catch a streak of silver reflecting off of the fluorescent lights in the hallway. Turning it completely upside down, you make out the 9 digits of a phone number scribbled along the bottom, matching the handwriting of the words and signature on the first puck Nico gave you that night.

“Hey, ready to go? We’re starving. Luke wants waffles so we’re going to meet a few of the guys at a diner not far from the apartment, you want go?” Jack asks as the two approach you.

You don’t respond, too stuck on the fact that Nico gave you his phone number on the bottom of his hat trick pucks. You’re impressed at how smooth it was, but also freaking out and trying not to jump to conclusions. It’s just a phone number. It could mean nothing. Maybe he just wanted you to have it because you’re neighbors? Or because you’re so close with Jack and Luke. Maybe he wanted you to have it for emergencies.

“Hello, earth to Y/N. You good?” Luke snaps you out of your trance. You bring the pucks down to press the bottom against your leg, hiding the phone number from your roommates.

“What? Yeah. I’m fine. Great. Perfect.”

“Okay…” Jack trails off, giving you a suspicious look. “So, yes or no to the waffles?”

“Oh my god, yes. The answer to waffles is always yes,” you say excitedly.

“Okay then, let’s go. Some of the guys are already there. I’ll drive,” Jack laughs at you, walking towards the exit leading to where the players park.

“Shotgun!” Luke yells out, turning back to see your reaction to the competition that was so fierce when you were kids.

Your mind is once again on the pucks in your hands, and the player that gave them to you. You look at the numbers again, deciding the boys were far enough ahead for you to safely sneak a peek, wanting to make sure they were actually there and you weren’t seeing things. Your earlier conversation with Jack making its way back to the front of your mind, wondering if maybe Jack’s concern is relevant.

Luke just smiles and shakes his head, remembering watching his captain frantically ask around for a sharpie in the locker room, writing something on the exact set of pucks you now have in your hands before bolting from the room like a man on a mission.

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javierpena-inatacvest · 9 months ago

Text

Happy Valentine's Day, Javier Peña

Summary: You've never been the biggest fan of Valentine's Day. But when you and Javi celebrate it for the first time together, he goes out of his way to make sure it's everything you want and more.

Pairing: Fiancé!Javier Peña x F!Reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't do that pls), face sitting, oral (f receiving), creampie, praise kink, breeding kink (it's me), PREMATURE EJACULATION, cumming untouched, subby Javi (he is no better than a teenage boy and can barley keep it together bc he is so obsessed with you AH), Javi picks you up to carry you, Javi being a hopeless romantic, sweet, cute fluff bc I said so

A/N: HEYOOOO. It's me, back with our favorite menace couple 🤪 You know damn well Javi goes all out for Valentine's Day, bc Javier Peña is a man in LOVE and the world's biggest softie (I will not be taking counter arguments, it's fact). So in love, in fact, that sometimes, things are finished before they're even started!!! Happy Valentine's Day, Y'all!! 🫣💕 Unbeta'd bc my body won't let me sleep and I'm too exhausted to edit

Can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

You hated Valentine’s Day.

Well… Hate was a strong word, but it was the only word strong enough to try and convince Javi that the last thing he needed to worry about doing was going all out for you on a Wednesday in the middle of February. Because for a very long time, all Valentine’s day was for you was just that- another day in the middle of winter.

For as long as you could remember, you had either spent Valentine’s day alone, wishing you had someone special to share it with, or the person you were sharing it with really didn’t give a shit about you, bought you some chocolate and flowers to cover their ass and called it a day. Your most recent ex had been kind enough to follow your request about not making the holiday anything special by forgetting about it completely and ditching you to go to a hockey game with his friends and then drunkenly calling you to come pick him up that night.

It was safe to say that Valentine’s day really didn’t mean much to you at all, or at least you thought it wouldn’t, until you’d met Javier Peña- A man who had quite literally bumped into you and proceeded to change the course of your life for the better and found yourself falling head over heels for, so much so, that it didn’t take you long to realize there was no one else that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with than him- leaving your first Valentine’s day together also the first time celebrating the holiday with your fiancé, now that the two of you had gotten engaged. It also meant your first of many years of having to convince Javi that he really didn’t need to do anything special for you to celebrate, and that just getting to spend time with him was more than enough for you.

Unfortunately, it was not good enough for Javi.

“Baby, I’m being serious, I promise I do not care. I would be happy if all we did was got pizza and watched TV together. All I wanna do for Valentine’s Day is just spend time with you. I don’t need a random weekday in February for you to prove that you love me, I think you’ve already proven that, Jav.” You laughed, pausing from washing dishes to pull your left hand out of the kitchen sink to point to the engagement ring on your finger. You found yourself now laughing even harder at Javi’s audible sigh as he snuck behind you, flushing his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, practically feeling the weight of his signature puppy dog pout drooping on you.

“I know, but it’s Valentine’s Day. I’m not gonna not do anything. And you deserve much more than pizza.” Javi sighed, pressing a kiss on your cheek, squeezing you in his grasp just a little tighter, making you giggle as he flipped you around to face him, caging you under his broad body against the kitchen counter. “You have to let me do something for you, Hermosa.”

“I don’t know Jav, pizza does sound really good. You really think you’re gonna be able to top pizza?” You teased, raising your eyebrow at him and sporting a sarcastic smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

“Oh shut up, you dork. Seriously, Osita. I totally get if you don’t wanna do anything big, but, I am not doing nothing for my beautiful fiancé on Valentine’s Day. You deserve it. How about this? If you don’t wanna go out, then I am making us reservations here at Restaurant Peña.”

“Oh, Restaurant Peña? They must be new around here, never heard of them before. Does the chef take requests?” You smirked, biting down on your lip to keep your goofy grin from growing between your cheeks, only giggling more as Javi leaned in to pepper ticklish kisses across your face.

“Normally, no, but I have a feeling the chef can make an exception for you.

“Does the chef make pizza?”

“The chef will make fucking pizza if you want pizza.” Javi laughed, rolling his eyes, tightening his grip around your waist, lifting you up and spinning you around in a fit of laughter before setting you down on top of the kitchen counter, slotting himself in the open space in between your legs and digging his fingers into your hips. “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll make it for you.”

“You choose, Chef Peña. Surprise me.”

“Hermosa, you hate surprises.”

“Well, then whatever you’re making better be good.” You shrugged, cocking your head to the side with a smug grin.

“You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no shocker there. Seriously though, thank you, Javi. This is really sweet of you. You know you don’t-”

Cutting you off, Javi brought his lips to yours, cradling your jaw as he swallowed the rest of your sentence, making your heart flutter from the electric kiss your fiance had just given you to politely shut you up.

“I know I don’t. But I want to. Te amo, tozuda (I love you, stubborn).”

“I love you too, pendejo (jerk). Now help me down, I have dishes to finish and a menu to plan for Laredo’s newest top chef.”

As you pulled up to the parking lot of your apartment, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see that Javi had already beat you home to get a head start on your Valentine’s Day dinner, laughing to yourself in disbelief, wondering how you had gotten so lucky that you had found someone that genuinely cared this much about making something so special just for you.

As you fumbled for your keys and pushed open your front door, you saw your apartment was dimly lit, candles scattered around the living room and kitchen, the shadows of the flames flickering and dancing along the walls. You could hear soft music and pans sizzling in the kitchen, along with the sweet humming of Javi’s voice. You closed the door behind you, taking a few more shocked steps into the living room before Javi noticed your presence.

He grinned, quickly setting down what he was working and wiping his hands on the towel he had tucked in his waistband while he was cooking before coming over to cup your face for a long, sweet kiss that made your heart race, leaving you speechless.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, mi amor.” He cooed, now pulling away from his embrace to reach behind you for the bouquet of daisies that had been hiding on the entryway table, handing them over to you with another peck on the cheek.

“Javi, these are, baby, these are beautiful. Did you- you left work early just to do all this?” You grinned, burying your nose in the flowers before looking around the living room to admire the setup Javi had prepared for the two of you, finally meeting his soft, sweet gaze staring down at you.

“Maybe. You’re Restaurant Peña’s first customer, wanted to make a good impression. Speaking of which, dinner is almost done, and as much as I would love to do nothing but stand here and kiss you, the chef doesn’t want to be the first meal he serves to be burned to a crisp.”

“Well in that case,” You paused, giggling as you pressed up on your tiptoes to press a kiss onto his plush lips, “I better go change for this classy event. Can’t wait to see what the chef has in store.”

Handing your flowers back to Javi, you set down the rest of your things from work, and quickly scampered back towards your bedroom, peeking back out of the doorway to shoot Javi a quick wink, making him quietly laugh to himself as he ran his hand over the back of his neck, shaking his head, trying to hide the completely lovestruck smirk plastered all over his face before heading back to the kitchen.

Gently closing the door behind you, your face mirrored Javi’s, heat creeping through your cheeks, grinning to yourself as you made your way to your dresser, starting to shuffle through your top drawer, looking for personal Valentine’s Day gift for your fiancé that had been hidden away under your folded piles of socks and underwear.

After digging for a few moments, you felt the lacy texture running through your fingers, pulling out the new lingerie set you had bought a few days ago to surprise Javi with. You quickly shimmied out of your work clothes, tossing them into the laundry basket next to your bed before slipping the delicate fabric over your body. Although this wasn't the first time you had surprised Javi with an outfit like this, you’d never get over his awestruck reaction, watching his eyes grow wide with his hungry gaze, ravishing in every inch of you, barley keeping himself together enough even remain coherent as you revealed yourself to him.

Giving yourself a once over in the mirror, you pulled one of your nicer, fitted black dresses out of your closet, hiding the matching red bra and thong held up by the lacy garters around your thighs, quickly touching up your hair and makeup from your long work day before making your way back out into the kitchen to greet Javi, back turned to you as he picked up two plates off the counter to bring to the table, nearly dropping them in the process as he turned around to see you standing in front of him.

“Fuck me…” He muttered under his breath, his jaw nearly dropping as he gave you another once over after looking you up and down, having to shake his head to snap himself back to reality, having enough sense to set his plates full of food down on the table before they ended up on the floor. “Baby, you look- fuck, you look fucking stunning.”

“I heard Restaurant Peña’s a nice place, figured I should dress for the occasion. Plus,” You smirked, taking the few steps to close the space between you and Javi, draping your arms over his shoulders and pressing up on your tiptoes to giggle in his ear, “I heard the chef here is really sexy. I’m really hoping that he’s free after dinner so I can treat him to some dessert.”

“Jesus fucking Christ… Hermosa, if you keep talking like that, we’re not gonna make it to dinner.” Javi groaned, biting down on his lip as he looked down at your mischievous grin, letting out another deep breath as his hands traveled down the curves of your waist, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass, kneading it over the fitted fabric covering it. “Fuck… can we just skip dinner and go straight to des-”

“Javi! No! You made me this whole delicious meal, I am not letting you skip this because you can’t keep it in your pants, mister.” You teased, giving Javi a playful nudge, taking a step back to cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him to tease him, even you knew damn well you would have been more than happy to give in to Javi’s plan, but the gurgle in your stomach and the inkling you were going to need some energy for the night ahead gave you enough logic to at least have some rational thinking left in your brain.

“Fine…” Javi sighed, holding up his hands in defense, laughing at your sassy remark, stepping back to the table to put both your plates in their rightful spots before making his way over to your chair to pull it out for you, leaning down to whisper in your ear as you sat down, the hot breath of his words dancing across your neck as he spoke. “Can you blame me when you look like this? You keep fucking teasing me like that, Hermosa, and dessert’s about to get very interesting.”

You could feel the rasp of his voice shoot straight to your core, your thighs instinctively clenching together to try to keep the ache growing between your legs at bay, letting the softest moan escape from your lips, using every ounce of brain power you had left to try and conjure up some sort of response.

“Yeah? Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Depends, which one do you want it to be?”

“Whatever the chef wants.”

Although the dinner that Javi had cooked was absolutely delicious, after adding a few glasses of wine during your meal to the already thick and palpable sexual tension in your kitchen was not helping either of your causes, the two of you probably rushing through eating much faster than you had intended to when the night had begun.

Taking the final sips left in your glass and watching the last bits of your plate cleared, all your inhibitions had been thrown out the window, giving Javi longing look as you stood up out of your chair, pushing in your seat and slowly slinking your way over to Javi, lifting your leg over his lap as you straddled him in his spot, your hands slowly running up and down his chest, toying with the buttons of his dress shirt and carefully unbuttoning button by button as you nipped at his ear.

“So, are you ready for dessert? I think I have a treat for you that you’re gonna like.” You rasped, trailing kisses across his neck and jaw, your lips meeting his in an electric passion, catching the muffled moan escaping his mouth as you began swirling your hips feeling the bulge beginning to grow in his pants.

“Fuck… Yeah? You gonna tell me what it is, huh, Hermosa?” Javi groaned, his hands wrapping around your waist, fingers digging into your hips, pressing you down further into his crotch, making you whine as you felt his hard length beneath you rubbing against you, only fueling the fire burning in your stomach and the wet patch growing in your underwear.

“Why don’t you take me to the bedroom and find out.”

You could barley finish your sentence before Javi was tightening his grip around you, standing up out of the chair to lift you up as he stood, carrying you to the bedroom as you stumbled down the hallway, becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth as the back of Javi’s knees finally hit the bed, situating you back in his lap. His hands roamed relentlessly over your body, letting his hands creep up your thighs, pushing up your dress high enough to stop in his tracks as he felt the lace of your garter band, a low groan rumbling in his chest at the realization of what treat you had to offer for him.

“Oh fuck… Baby, are you- what do you have on under here?” He asked, breathlessly, very clearly knowing the answer before he had even asked the question, his hands now pushing further up your legs, his fingers dancing across the delicate waistband of your thong as he looked up at you with his pleading brown eyes, now growing darker and darker with lust.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Javi.” You mewled, reaching behind you to unzip the back of your dress, letting it fall of your shoulders and reveal the red bustier underneath, the floral, lacy pattern leaving very little to the imagination, and leaving Javi’s jaw to practically drop to the floor as you showed off your hidden outfit.

“Osita… Fuck… This all for me, sweet girl? Jesus Christ.” he practically whispered to himself in disbelief, soaking in every inch of you as you stepped of back off his lap to let your dress fall to the floor, unveiling your lingerie in its entirety in front of him. Letting his elbows rest on his knees, he brought his hand over his mouth, gaping open in awe, soon balling his hand into a fist and biting down on his knuckle as you slowly turned around in a circle, showing off all angles of yourself before meeting Javi’s gaze again, smirking to yourself at the incomprehensible mess your fiance had become.

“You like it?” You giggled, raising a knowing eyebrow at Javi as you stepped back towards him, running your hands up his strong thighs hanging over the edge of the bed, letting your fingers barley brush over the undeniable tent in his pants, teasing at his belt buckle before dragging your hands back down, resting on his knees.

“Y-yeah, I- yeah, fuck.” Javi gulped, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed, trying to find a way to string together a coherent sentence as you let your fingers trace over his legs and crotch, melting into a puddle under your touch.

“Yeah? I had a feeling.” You smirked, now palming at the bulge in his pants more firmly, eliciting another audible moan from Javi, his breath becoming heavy and shaky as you sat yourself back over his lap, your ass resting perfectly on top of his erection as you began to slowly swirl your hips over his. Your hands worked their way down the rest of the buttons of his shirt, creeping between the parted fabric to rest your hands on his bare chest, nestling your face in the crook of his neck as you sucked at his pulse point, whispering against his skin. “You gonna be a good boy and let me take care of you, baby?”

There were few times in his life where Javier Peña had found himself at a complete loss for words, but you had him wrapped around your finger as you sat in his lap, all dressed up just for him, whispering sweet praises in his ear did something to him that even he couldn’t quite comprehend. Truth be told, the only thought he could process right now was the all too familiar clench in his stomach and tightening in his balls leaving him on the verge of busting in his pants before you had even touched him.

Scrunching his face in concentration, Javi nodded rapidly as his hands dug a bruising grip into your hips, every grind of your ass against his crotch only tightening the undeniable knot in his gut. Javi was convinced he’d be strong enough to keep it in check, as long he could use every ounce of his being to focus on not falling apart. But that was before you decided to fight dirty and press every button you knew to make Javi absolutely crumble.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me, baby. You want me to touch you, Javi? Let me make you feel good, sweet boy.” You cooed, nipping at his ear as your hands ran through the thick, dark curls of his hair before sliding down the width of his broad shoulders, sliding his shirt down his arms and gripping around his biceps as you sunk your hips deeper and deeper into his lap.

Before he even had time to process what was happening, Javi found himself instinctively bucking his hips up into you, holding on to you for dear life as he let out an absolutely wrecked moan, slumping his head into your shoulder as you felt a warm, wet sensation begin to spread below you.

“Fuck… Fuck me…” He whispered, silently cursing himself over his shallow breathing, making you pause in confusion as you looked down at Javi, taking a moment to quickly piece together in your brain what had just happened.

Javi had just cum in his pants like a fucking teenager.

“Javi…Javi, did you just-”

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m- I’m sorry. Fuck me.” Javi grimaced, running his hand over his face, tilting his head back up towards the ceiling, his cheeks turning red in pained embarrassment, not even able to bring himself to make eye contact with you until you brought your hand under his cheek, gently cupping his jaw and forcing his gaze onto you, locking his lips in an intense kiss before either of you had the chance to speak.

“Well, that’s a first.” You giggled, trying your best to lighten Javi’s clearly distraught mood, feeling his pouty frown through your kiss. “Javi, it’s okay, we can just- Oh!”

Before you could finish your sentence, Javi’s back was to the bed, dragging your body across his chest until you were straddling just below his shoulders, his hands digging into your ass and pulling you closer towards him.

“Nuh uh. I just need a few. Lemme make you feel good, baby. Please. Fuck, I’m sorry, you’re just so fucking sexy, I couldn’t help myself. Let me make it up to you, please, Osita.”

It wasn’t very often that you found yourself like this- you being the one who turned Javi into a whimpering and babbling mess, begging for forgiveness. And even though it was a position you found yourself in often, you very well knew that you were going to take advantage of every last second.

“Oh yeah? And how are you planning on making it up to me, Javi?” You cooed, cocking your head to the side apathetically, arms crossed over your chest as you sat straddling Javi’s.

“Sit on my face, baby, please. Fuck, I’ll make you cum as many times as you want. I wanna taste you so bad.” Javi moaned, his sweet, brown eyes pleading with you for just a taste of the arousal that had been steadily pooling between your legs.

“Yeah?” You paused, leaning down to capture his mouth in a passionate kiss, your teeth tugging at his plush bottom lip as you pulled away to nip at his jaw, “and what if I still want you to fill me up after you’re done? What if I need you to fuck me full of you?”

“Jesus fuck…” Javi groaned under his shallow breathing, “I’ll give you whatever you want, Hermosa. I promise.”

“Good boy.” You mewled, running your hands through the sweat-dampened curls of his hair before shuffling your body so your lace covered and soaking heat was hovering over Javi’s face. You began to slowly lower yourself down, Javi’s fingertips gripping the flesh of your hips, forcing you to shift your weight onto him, making you moan as you felt his strong nose brush against your clit, nudging your panties out of the way. You could feel the width of his tongue dragging along your cunt, slowly and deliberately working himself along your sensitive bundle of nerves. His face nestled between your legs, he took his time with each lick, taking extra time to press harder on the spots he knew made you weak, loving how wrecked he could tell you already were as you rolled your hips over his face. You could practically feel his smirk buried in your pussy as the movements of his tongue became more precise, flicking at your clit making you whimper as you braced your hands by burying them in his hair, tugging at the ends of his thick curls.

“Javi… Fuck, oh my god.” You cried, feeling the tension begin to build in your belly as Javi wrapped his plush lips around your mound, sucking feverishly as you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding down harder, the hairs of his mustache brushing against your thighs. You could feel him hum in approval against your cunt as your back began to arch, a familiar tingle growing at the base of your spine as his mouth latched firmer around your clit, desperate to make you come undone.

“Fuck, baby- oh shit- Javi, don’t stop, fuck, fuck, I’m so close. Fuck, I’m- mhhhmmmmmm.” Your orgasm crashed through you, pleasure overtaking your body as you came, whimpering and moaning. Your orgasm crashed through you, pleasure overtaking your body as you came, whimpering and moaning Javi’s name as he dug his fingers deeper into your flesh, holding you against him as he continued to work you through your high.

Dipping his tongue into your hole, his muscle plunged into your cunt, drinking up your arousal while the bridge of his nose brushed against your clit, making good on his promise to redeem himself from earlier, not letting up until he felt your body tense and legs begin to shake as you came again, feeling about as sturdy as a pile of jello at this point.

Your body went slack, draping your upper half over Javi’s body as you felt his face free from out from under you, looking down to see his face glistening in your slick, accompanied by a boyish grin and pleading eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and gazing back up at you.

You had caught your breath enough to sit yourself back up, looking over your shoulder to see the bulge in Javi’s pants was back in full force, slowly scooting your way down his chest and stomach to sit yourself back on his lap, grinding your hips in his, circling slowly over his painfully hard bulge, digging deeper and deeper with each sway of your hips. You slid your hands up his chest, into his hair, gently tugging at his dark curls as you rocked against him. You could tell how hard Javi was trying to control himself, breathing heavily and clenching his jaw as he watched you, the moans escaping from his mouth only becoming louder as you began to gently tug at the straps of your bra, letting them fall from your shoulders, teasing him even further.

“You think you’re ready for me, baby? You’re gonna be a good boy and fill me up like you promised? You smirked, slipping your hands behind your back, you unclasped the hooks holding your top together, letting it drop to the floor and leave your top completely bare.

“Promise.” He sighed, voice trembling, feeling the muscles in his body tense with your question.

“Good.” You smirked, “Gotta ask nicely, though.”

“Osita, please, baby, fuck- please.” Javi whined, his voice ragged and wanting as his brown eyes met with yours, watching you crawl up over him, your hands now working at his belt buckle. The metal clinked as you pushed his pants down his hips before ever so gently tugging at the waistband of his boxers, already tented from his stiffness.

“Please, what, sweet boy?” You cooed, pulling just enough to let his cock spring free, revealing how painfully hard he was, his tip dark red and leaking with precum that had left additional stains on his boxers, mixing with his premature spend from earlier.

“Hermosa, please. Please, baby. I need you to fuck me, please.” Javi whimpered as you settled yourself on top of his legs, your hands now creeping towards his shaft.

“That’s better. So handsome when you beg. Need me to take care of you? I’ll take care of you, baby.” You wrapped your hand around his cock, thumbing at the precum dripping out of his tip and rubbing it around his head before taking the same hand and running it through your folds, collecting the arousal that had been rapidly pooling between your legs and using the mixture to stroke him.

With his shaft sufficiently slick, the both of you gasped as you sunk down on Javi’s length, his cock bumping against your cervix as you took every inch of him inside you, taking a moment to adjust to the sweet sting of his fullness. “Fuck, you feel so good, Javi. I love feeling you inside me. Can’t wait to feel you dripping down my thighs. Gonna keep me full of you all night.”

The groan Javi let out was low and deep, feeling your hands rest against his chest as your hips rolled back and forth, burying Javi’s cock deep inside the warm, wet walls of your cunt. The hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbed deliciously on your clit, the sensation of that, combined with how frantically you were rocking your hips back and forth had your heart racing, so worked up from trying to keep your cool that you could feel the tingle building at the base of your spine rapidly.

“I will. Please let me, I will. I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Fuck, I wanna cum so deep in you, please, Osita. Please, baby.”

You could tell Javi was close, too- The gritting of his teeth, the wild and wanting look in his sweet brown eyes, the sloppy pace of his dick pounding into you, all the tells you knew far too well to realize he was quickly about to come undone again. The arousal pooling in your belly continued to build, the lewd noises of your wetness and mixed moans coating the walls of your bedroom as your fingers dug into the skin of Javi’s chest.

“Fuck, fuck- I love you, Javi. Holy shit- I’m so close. I need you to fill me up, baby.”

“I love you too, Hermosa. I’m not gonna last much longer either, so fucking wet and tight, oh my god- I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby. I promise, promise I’ll be a good boy and fuck every last drop in you.”

It wasn’t often that you had seen Javi turn into such a mess, watching him whimper and beg to with such desperation and neediness, barely hanging on by a thread from the moment you had crossed the threshold of your bedroom, and holy shit, it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. Javi had already cum once without you even touching him, and now, he was so worked up he was teetering on the brink of falling apart again.

In a frantic desperation, Javi sat himself up, caging your chest against his, wrapping his arms around your back as he held you in his lap, his face buried in the crook of your neck, sweaty curls of his hair resting against your shoulder, while he fucked up into you, each thrust becoming reckless than the last.

“Oh fuck, Javi, fuck, don’t stop- fuck, fuck, I’m gonn-ahhhhh”

The coil building in your belly snapped, screaming Javi’s name over and over again as your cunt clenched around his cock, feeling your orgasm flood your body with pleasure. You braced your hands on Javi’s chest as you felt your body go numb, euphoria flowing through your veins while Javi fucked you through your high, quickly chasing his own.

“That’s it baby. Fuck, Mierda- God, you’re so fucking perfect. Tu eres mio para siempre. Mi amor, mi vida, fuck, te amo más de lo que las palabras pueden decir. (You’re mine forever. My love, my life, fuck, I love you more than words can say). Jesus, fuck- Oh fuck, Osita, fuck, I’m gonna cum too, I-” Javi quickly followed behind you, thrusting a few more times up into you before letting out a low, ragged groan as he spilled deep inside your pussy, his warm spend coating your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop, as promised. You could feel the mixture of the both of you leaking down your legs into Javi’s lap as you sat on top of him, his dick still pulsing as your chests heaved in sync, squeezing your eyes tightly to try and bring yourself back to earth.

“Jesus Fucking Christ…” Javi muttered under his breath, his body still slumped into yours until you began running your fingers through his hair, prompting him to look back up at you, the blissed out grins on both your faces making you let out a quiet laugh of surprised disbelief at what had just happened.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Javier Pena.” You giggled, cupping his face, tilting it up towards yours and locking his lips in a long and tender kiss.

“Happy fucking Valentine’s Day, baby. Fuck, that was hot. Sorry, uh- sorry about earlier.” He sighed sheepishly, gesturing over to the very thoroughly stained pair of pants now lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“It’s okay. Definitely a good confidence booster if me putting some lingerie on for you is enough to make you blow your load faster than a middle school boy.” You snickered, giving Javi a playful nudge as he rolled his eyes at you, letting out a little sigh.

“Shut up. You have no fucking idea. God, you’re so fucking sexy, you know that? I can’t believe you get to be my Valentine for the rest of my life. I’m a lucky fucking man, I’ll tell you that much.”

“I could say the same, handsome. I love you, Javi. Alright, what do you say we go clean up so we can have real dessert. I have a whole plate full of cookies left over from our class party, along with some very questionable candy from several 3rd graders.”

“Sounds like the perfect plan to me.”

Taglist:

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belokhvostikova · 2 months ago

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𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

⤷ Comprised collection of work categorized by standalones or multi-part series. Majority of my work will contain explicit sexual content, so if stated: 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭. Any and all feedback, constructive criticism, and comments are welcome.

Do 𝐧𝐨𝐭 repost, 𝐝𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 — Updated as of August 31st, 2024

─── ౨ৎ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

The Yearbook: Club Pictures | Completed

The Hawkins High 1986 Yearbook is set to encapsulate the '85-'86 school year, capturing all students and memorabilia from the momentous year—with an exception, though... Hellfire. And as a valued member of the Yearbook Committee, Eddie Munson had placed a target on your back to protect himself.

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold | Ongoing | 18+

Winnie Ambrose had had enough of Eddie Munson. A cheat, dirty, no good, lying scumbag whose only worth was found in his eight inch cock. But enough was enough, and Eddie Munson was bound to pay his dues. Devising a plan of revenge, Winnie entrust you, her best friend, to hurt the man who hurt others. It was simple: make him fall in love, and crush his heart. Only, you hadn’t expected to fall deeper than intended… and neither did he.

─── ౨ৎ 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

Sensual Brutality | 18+

Porn with no plot.

Dustin Fucking Henderson | 18+

In the simplest terms, Dustin Henderson has essentially become Eddie Munson's biggest cock block.

Sweet, Little Bunny | 18+

Perhaps the karma gods of the world were just as perverted as Hawkins’ residential Freak, Eddie Munson, himself, as the perfect opportunity to lay his hands on you arose when you go searching for helpless students to tutor.

You’re Gonna Break His Little Heart | 18+

What was supposed to be a summer vacation to your boyfriend's hometown, turned into God's greatest test of morality against you. In other words, you basically fuck your boyfriend's best friend, Eddie Munson.

The One Where Everybody Finds Out | 18+

Your secret fling with Eddie Munson hadn't gone entirely under wraps, particularly to the know-it-all, Dustin Henderson. With the help of Robin and Steve, the three conspire to reveal the truth, resulting in two of the most awkward people going on a date together...

The “Plug” | 18+

A night after Homecoming has you reveling in the loneliness of your mind, but a drug dealer "meandering" his way by is there to solve your issues, especially after finding a particular toy of yours.

Interrogations with the Unconscious

After five months of no reconciliation with the man whose lifestyle became too much for you to manage, you're met with your ex-boyfriend, the rockstar, after an accident leaves you in the hospital, and you face the realization that Eddie Munson is still your emergency contact.

The Boy is Mine (Sienna’s Version)

There comes a period where most relationships fall stale, yet Eddie never thought it'd happen to him and you, in fact, maybe even worse. With an intimate date planned in the comfort of your home, Eddie hopes to coax whatever thoughts are troubling your mind.

In the Room Where You Sleep | 18+

Halloween had stamped itself as Hawkins' favorite time of the year, where teenager party and murderers prow. And you come face-to-face with that, when a particular masked man takes a special interest in you.

─── ౨ৎ 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬

Eddie’s Boyish Antics

Eddie’s Pregnancy Shenanigans

Eddie’s Very Metal Lesson

Eddie’s Pregnancy Rules

Eddie’s Smutty Allergies | 18+

Eddie’s Situationship 18+

Eddie’s Really Bad Joke | 18+

Eddie’s Reassurance | 18+

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson recs #eddie munson masterlist #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson series #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you

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ln444 · 1 year ago

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1D songs as f1 drivers prompts

included: lando norris, oscar piastri, charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lewis hamilton, george russell, max verstappen.

cw: slight angst.

note: i spent days making this omg 😭 i'm so glad it's finally out bc i'm a huge fan of one direction's songs (had my directioner era lol) i really hope you guys enjoy it ! also i was thinking about making it a serie, let me know if you're interested by any of the prompts !

click on the title to play the song!

_________________________________________________

lando norris ☆ stole my heart (bestfriends in love)

“under the lights tonight, you turned around and you stole my heart with just one look, when i saw your face, i fell in love„

lando really tried. he attempted to bury his feelings as deeply as he could, but you make it so difficult. the way you're the only one who laughs at his silly jokes, the way you try not to miss any of his races (and send him a good luck text when you can't be there), the way you randomly smile down at him – he could talk about everything you do for hours because he loves and knows every single details about you. sometimes he hates how you make him feel because he just wants to say, 'fuck it,' and kiss you for hours and hours. he can't even count the number of times he's thought about kissing you or the countless times the three words almost slipped out of his mouth out of nowhere. but the thought of losing you forever hold him back everytime, he can't even imagine his life without you. he doesn't know how, but lando has fallen for you, really, really hard and it just keeps going, he just can't get enough of you.

oscar piastri ☆ 18 (teenage love)

“i have loved you since we were 18, long before we both thought the same thing, to be loved and to be in love„

oscar initially watched you from a distance, even memorizing your schedule to see you as often as possible. he'd daydream about finding excuses to start conversations with you, sometimes getting so lost in thought during class that he'd lose track of the lesson. then, one day, he finally gathered the courage to talk to you, pretending to need notes from a shared class. since that day, you began exchanging daily messages, making oscar dumbly smiling. you started having study sessions, eating lunch together, sitting together in your shared classes and he'd even wait to walk you home. and just like that, oscar start falling for you. he found himself daydreaming about you more often, imagining how it would feel to hold your hand and how your lips would feel on his. those thoughts would fluster him, but deep down, he hoped they might come true.

charles leclerc ☆ summer love

“you were my summer love, you'll always will be my summer love„

midnight swims, picnics, sneaking out to watch the stars, late-night talks, sharing earphones while lying on the beach, biking, taking pictures of each other with your old camera, whispering sweet words to each other when no one's watching. that's what makes summer your favorite season, because you get to be with charles. but why does being in love with charles have to be so complicated? why do you have to part ways when the summer ends? most importantly, what makes you hold onto this love, so complicated? maybe the fact that charles always promises to be there next summer and keep this promise — or the fact that you're madly in love with this boy—. the craziest part of all of this is how your love for each other never fades, to the point where charles promises to marry you and get a beach house where you can spend all your summers together when you grow up. charles always keeps his promises.

carlos sainz ☆ change your ticket (long distance)

“you should probably stay, probably stay a couple more days, come on let me change your ticket home, don't go, it's not the same when you go„

you never imagined that having an f1 driver as your boyfriend would be so challenging and that you'd have to spend half the year far from him. at first, it wasn't a big problem, and you got used to it quickly. but at times, it really tugged at your heart. carlos always makes sure to call you when he is free and send you texts at random times of the day to ask how's your day going and tell you how much he misses you, but it's not the same. carlos had asked you more than to join the venture, assuring you that his income would be more than enough for both of you. you thought about it—a lot—but the idea of making such significant changes held you back. now, when you think about it, you realize that losing carlos over a simple matter of distance would be a mistake, especially when there's a solution within reach. perhaps traveling the world with your f1 driver boyfriend isn't such a bad idea after all.

lewis hamilton ☆ heart attack (bestfriend's sister)

“got your voice in my head, sayin' «let's just be friends» [...] never thought it'd hurt so bad, getting over you„

lewis doesn't even know how he fell in love with you. perhaps it was the way your smile warms his heart or how you effortlessly make the most boring conversation so captivating. it seems so absurd that, out of all of the people, he fell for his bestfriend's sister. lewis never imagined that it will be this hard to fight his love for you and act like his mind is not filled with thoughts of you 24/7. how could he possibly get over you when just being in the same room as you drives him crazy? he thought about telling your brother, he really did but the thought of losing his long time friend and you along the way held him back. so he decided to bury his feelings deep in his heart and keep his thoughts in the back of his head. yet, with every echo of your laughter from the next room or just the sight of you, his heart would go crazy.

george russell ☆ loved you first

“i've been waiting all this time to finally say it but now i see your heart's been taken, and nothing could be worse, baby i loved you first„

george can't help but think about the stupid mistake he made a few months ago— not confessing his love for you. he had so many chances to do it, to tell you that he fell hard for you and he can't stop thinking about you. but the day he finally decided to do it, he didn't expect to find you arm in arm with another guy, totally breaking his heart. he just couldn't take it anymore, seeing you with him every day and acting like it was fine, as if the looks and smiles you gave him didn't warm his heart and make him want to take your hand and run as far as he could. because george, he's deeply in love, and it's getting deeper every single day. it's so unfair— he was there first, he loved you first. the worst part is that you know how george feels, and you might even feel the same way. george loved you first, and he's going to make sure that you know that.

max verstappen ☆ still the one (ex lovers)

“you're all i think about baby, i was so stupid for letting you go, you still the one„

max tried to date other girls, multiple times. however, it never felt the same. how is he supposed to move on when he's consumed by thoughts of you 24/7? he can't even engage in meaningful conversations with his dates because his mind always drifts back to you. he spends countless nights trying to erase you from his thoughts, to convince himself that it's truly over. yet, deep down, a flicker of hope for your love still lingers. max thought about the endless nights he's spent replaying your conversations and wondering what went wrong. he's haunted by the way your smile lit up his world and the warmth of your hand in his. even though he's tried to move forward, the heartache is still here, reminding him that sometimes, love refuses to fade.

_________________________________________________

requests open!

#f1 x reader #f1 #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 angst #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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discopaddock · 8 months ago

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THE MAIN CHARACTER FROM MY BOOK - SEBASTIAN VETTEL

SUMMARY: reader is only a fantasy and romance writer and a huge fan of sebastian. he's fan of her book. when he reveals that to the public there's no way their fans are going to lose an opportunity to have them meet.

PAIRING: rbr!sebastian vettel and author!reader

GENRE: smau, fluff pure fluff!!!

WORD COUNT: +/- 1K

WARNINGS: none

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hiya! this was based on this request! also if you see any similarities to one of @hrts4scarr ’s recent works, that's because we got the same request! also go check scar’s work, it's so cool! once again, english isn't my first language so sorry for any mistakes!

“You’ve checked Twitter recently?” Senna, Y/N’s manager from the publishing house, asked extra happily. The author only shook her head between drinking water, exhausted from another day of signing books for long hours.

Of course it wasn't that she didn't like it! She loved it! But if she was doing it for eight hours six days a week for two months now it was getting boring.

“Then do it!” Senna said, almost shrieking.

Y/N only gasped but opened her laptop and searched Twitter to see her whole feed in Tweets of Sebastian Vettel talking about her book.

That Sebastian Vettel she had the biggest crush on and created him in her book series.

The author looked at the other girl with opened mouth and she only said:

“You're gonna see him tomorrow, we've already arranged it with Red Bull. Sign some books for him with special dedications baby”

Y/N only started smiling like a stupid teenage girl.

Oh what she was gonna do in front of Sebastian?

Nice is beautiful.

And so is Monaco.

Sebastian found himself in a car in the passenger seat. He wasn't sure where he was going. He only understood that there will be books? Like a lot of books.

He entered the library with his PR manager and some photographer and when he saw that one book on the poster, he immediately knew why he was there.

There weren't a lot of people.

The queue to the author desk wasn't too long, only five people before him.

Sebastian knew that the author of his beloved book was pretty attractive. He had seen her photos on her website.

But in real life she was even a hundred times prettier than in photos.

He was close to saying she was beautiful in that interview. So close but he didn't for his own sake. Now he could say it to the first person that walked beside him.

Finally the queue ended and he was standing in front of the girl.

“Hi, I'm Sebastian” he said only with a smile on his face and she quickly stood up from her chair and fixed her hair.

“Hello, I'm Y/N” she answered with a shy grin and shook his hand.

“I can say that I'm a fan of your writing,” Sebastian announced with a laugh, making her blush.

Mein Gott, she looks so pretty with rosy cheeks – he thought. My God

“Great, because I have something for you” she said and showed him all of her books excluding “Young and beautiful”. “For you, for the longer flights to Australia” she added.

Oh, Sebastian was speechless. He didn't expect to get anything from her, especially since he found out about meeting her like half an hour ago.

“Oh, thank you so much!” he said with a big smile and looked at all the books. The covers were pretty, just like her.

“I don't know if fantasy is your favorite, so I put here most of the romances I have” Y/N laughed a little, looking at him as he carefully watched all of the books.

“I actually like it a lot, even if I don't look like it” he answered, holding in his hands the book where he was in as the main character.

He read the text at the back and when he saw a review from a Twitter user he couldn't believe it.

“Book is great, especially since Hugo gives me major Sebastian Vettel vibes”

“Haha, what is this?” he asked, showing her the review and she only blushed and shrugged.

“Well, I can say that I was lacking in character personalities” she wasn't, he put him in that book on purse. She was writing that book on Wattpad years ago before it was published, when she was watching him in Formula 3.5 and was dreaming of him.

As if she wasn't doing it now.

“Okay, I'll remember that,” he said and laughed. Oh, she loved his laugh. His laugh on TV wasn't as good as in real life.

She was in love with him.

She thought to herself that she was crazy.

But did he care? No, he didn't. Not at all.

“Can I get your number? I want to do something for you as a thank you” Sebastian asked and Y/M speechless and in shock, nodded and grabbed a pen and one of the books to write the number next to the dedication. “I'll text you, don't worry” he winked at her and left with his team and all the books in his hands.

Getting Paddock Passes for the European Grand Prix didn't sound wrong, did it?

And with that Y/N ended in the Red Bull garage in Valencia, extremely happy since it was her first Grand Prix in real life ever.

Also when the fans saw the photos of their little meet up in Nice they went crazy. She had never seen anything like shipping her with someone before that but did she like it? Yes, because Sebastian seemed to like her too.

And now he looked so hot in post race glow and champagne.

“Hey Y/N, I was thinking if you would want to join me at dinner after the whole post win thing?” Seb asked when he came back to the garage, covered in sticky alcohol.

“I don't want to intrude on you-”

“You won't! I'm the one who's asking you to join me” he smiled at her shy personality. She was adorable as hell.

“Okay, I'll go” Y/N said and Sebastian grinned widened and he left a kiss on her cheek.

“See you soon, pretty girl” he said and left to take a shower. She was just standing here without any words, red on face and with butterflies in her stomach.

Oh the thing that she had for Sebastian was big, very, very big.

masterlist

#discopaddock #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fanfic #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel fluff #sebastian stan #sebastian vettel angst

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alisaint · 7 months ago

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guys, i have good news for once. i've found proof of intelligent life out here in these wastelands:

my favorite excerpts:

Will, Jonathan, and Joyce Formed a Special Trio

If Eleven is the main character in Stranger Things, the Byers family is the conduit through which she flickers. Will’s disappearance in the first season spurred the Hawkins community to rush to his aid. The tight-knit camaraderie between Will, Jonathan, and Joyce juxtaposes the stereotypical family composed of kids and teenagers. Parents and children are supposed to fight and bicker in television and other media, often to build the main conflict of the story, but the Byers family already underwent that trauma offscreen. Lonnie Byers (Ross Partridge) makes a brief cameo in the first season, flexing his standoffish demeanor and abusive nature. It’s clear that the Byers patriarch doesn’t possess much empathy for his ex-wife or his sons. Jonathan valiantly steps into the father, husband, and big brother role, amalgamating into a combination of responsibilities that no other character on the show could dream of emulating.

Jonathan Binds the Byers Family Together

Jonathan’s multifaceted arc in the first two seasons made him one of the series’ most easily dissectable characters. Stranger Things often differentiates itself from other shows by keeping the antagonists separate from the main characters. There are no Walter White or Tony Soprano-style antiheroes in which fans must compromise one part of their moral compass to appreciate the character. One might think this makes the series boring, but it’s the opposite. Jonathan was proof that a nearly perfect brother and son can still be fascinating to watch. After Will was found in season 1’s climax, he was taken over by the Mind Flayer in season 2. Jonathan again stood by Will’s side as his little brother felt outcasted by friends and society at large. Schnapp and Heaton’s chemistry often leads to tender, humorous exchanges like this one in which the boys remind the audience that being weird can be a human superpower in its own right. These moments became few and far between in seasons 3 and 4. Will and Jonathan were relegated to minor supporting characters as the aforementioned new additions took center stage. Will at least gets to tag along with Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and the other younger friends. Jonathan often only appears in a few small scenes with his girlfriend Nancy (Natalia Dyer), and the writers even flirted with pushing Nancy back into Steve’s arms in the most recent season. Jonathan spent the majority of season 4 high on marijuana and frolicking around in a faux buddy-comedy routine with the one-off character Argyle (Eduardo Franco). The decision to waste Heaton’s work from the first two seasons with a 180-degree personality change made no sense. Jonathan suddenly seemed careless, distant, and uninspired, but not in a dense way that could be unlocked by further character development. Little-to-no time was spent on him. While some fans might concur it is a necessary evil to take screen time away from older characters when expanding the world of Hawkins, it certainly transforms Stranger Things from a show about family into a show just about monsters and romances.

Jonathan’s Enhanced Role in Season 5?

Many theories point to Will being one of the critical pieces to defeating Vecna (Jamie Campbell Bower) in the fifth and final season. His connection to the Upside Down and the evils underneath the surface should open up opportunities for Jonathan to lend his ears and counseling once again. Jonathan grows on an individual level when he aids others. When locked out of his family’s life, it stunts his ability to shine as a listener and an empathizer. Jonathan’s best scene from season 4 again features a tear-jerking moment with Will. On the cusp of coming out of the closet, Will needs Jonathan more than ever before, and his brother responds supremely to the task at hand. The poignant conversation validates that the Duffers haven’t completely forgotten how to flesh out the Byers family. When the world gets too enormous for the characters and the audience, Jonathan serves as a connector to the most human elements of the series’ thematic thesis. He may not be as funny as Steve or as neurotic as Robin, but Jonathan symbolizes the good in all of us. In a show shrouded in darkness, Jonathan’s presence will be instrumental to forming a satisfying, optimistic conclusion in Hawkins, Indiana.

#st #stranger things #jonathan byers #if everyone and the duffers would listen to what me and my fellow jonathan warriors have been preaching and praying and saying #reading jonathan appreciation is like getting injected directly in the heart with adrenaline it makes me feel like a sports fan whose team #just won and now must destroy a city over it . or whatever

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whateverisbeautiful · 9 months ago

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♥️ Ranking Richonne

#7: How'd I Get So Lucky Finding You (S9E01)

Imagine feeling lucky in a fallen world. 🥹 Losing so much and still feeling like you won because you found the ultimate love of your life. 😭 It’s beautiful and powerful that Richonne’s love is so strong that it has them feeling fortunate even after enduring a series of unfortunate events. And in this stunning scene, we get to see so much of why Rick and Michonne have an everlasting love. This scene is an absolutely heartwarming delight and it features my favorite thing Rick has ever said to Michonne in TWD 😍...

I will forever love the state of Richonne’s relationship in s9. They finally had time to breathe and be a family with Judith, and I loved every moment they got to relish in being together.

I always knew Rick and Michonne wouldn't be the type of couple who were only compatible in fight and survival mode - they're equally compatible in just living and being mode.

So I appreciate that this scene takes its time to just be as the two cuddle up and showcase yet again why they work so perfectly with each other. They truly belong together and fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. 🥰

Also, I will always like that this scene of Richonne snuggled up in bed takes place in the Sanctuary of all places. Just more proof that nothing, not even the oppressive reign of Negan, was going to break Richonne because now Rick and Michonne are up in that batty man's crib fully immersed in their sweet Richonne bubble. 🤗

They just feel so married with Rick washing up and then getting in bed with Michonne as the two just instinctively get wrapped up in each other. And the way Rick kisses her forehead. 🥹 It’s always so clear that they feel the most safe to completely decompress and let their guard down with each other and are so precious to each other.

And I’m just giddy every time I hear Michonne adorably and playfully call Rick “the famous Rick Grimes” with that shoulder shimmy while resting on his chest. Perfection. 👌🏽

I love their teasing banter and how she’s addressing the way Rick's a legend to the people. As he should be. And Rick’s playful, "don’t you start too" response to hearing her say that is just great. 😊

It’s adorable that she plays with his beard while noting that the reverence people have for him is sweet. She gets it. She says, “just don’t let it get to your head” and Richonne tones for the win once again in this scene. 😍

And again the two bring up Maggie and how they feel for her since she has to deal with losing that Hilltop kid, which is particularly sad too because R&M lost their own teenage son just about a year and a half ago.

Rick and Michonne then have this moment where they both just take a synchronized deep breath and these two seriously always feel like one, especially in the way they breathe in this moment.

I like how Rick seems tired as he closes his eyes, but then Michonne says his name, and he can always be awake and alert for her when they need to talk.

I really like too how Michonne and Rick both get honest about the fact that they wonder if they should have just killed Negan. To which I was like, yes...

But I appreciate that Michonne says "we" when talking about this choice because she and Rick are a package deal. Saving Negan without consulting the others was Rick’s most controversial move among tf, and it clearly had some tf members feeling understandably upset. But it’s nice that, by saying "we," Michonne doesn’t make Rick feel like he was alone in that choice.

Rick thinks the Saviors just want food, not Negan back in charge, and Michonne reminds him they don’t know that for sure, which is valid, and it’s great they can communicate like this.

And then I love that Michonne lets him know she’s been thinking about an agreement between the communities and that she maps out the idea with her hand over his heart. Their closeness really is unparalleled.

Also the way Rick is looking at his wife throughout this scene is um...it's gold and damn near made me lose my train of thought so let me get myself back on track lol.

I love that Rick affirms Michonne's idea, telling her it’s good and smart, and how he looks right at her while saying it could bring people closer together. And the way Michonne touches him. I love that they really don’t take their hands off each other for pretty much the entire scene. 😊

And then Rick opens up and lets her know what's on his mind as he shares that Daryl isn’t happy, and it makes him worried about things breaking down. Scenes like this are why I believe Michonne is not just Rick's wife but truly his best friend. They always can confide in each other and express everything going on inside - their hopes, ideas, worries, and fears.

It’s sweet that Michonne acknowledges the validity of what Daryl feels. And Rick groans a bit and says Daryl cares too much sometimes. I appreciate that Michonne can sense Rick's headspace so clearly here and doesn’t want a divide to be caused between those two brothers (even tho it ends up being a bit too late sadly).

The way Michonne whispers 'hey' and then gently turns Rick's face towards her, it’s like a visible illustration of how she centers him and reminds him to stay focused on the good and how to move things forward. And of course, Rick is receptive to this redirection as he looks into her eyes. Love it. 😊

Michonne acknowledges that if Daryl is worried then there’s a reason. And again, because R&M are a package deal, she asks, "What do we do about it?" knowing however they handle it, it will be together.

And then, like a well-oiled machine, Rick says he thinks they need to fix that bridge, and Michonne says she'll get the people to agree to a charter. Look at these leaders making big community decisions all while snuggling in bed together. 🥰

So then it’s Rick’s turn to do some teasing when he asks if it’ll be a "charter or constitution?" Again, I love how lines like these show Rick and Michonne know each other's humor as Michonne amusedly confirms it'll be a charter. And it's just sweet too cuz, while they're playing around, I'm sure Rick fully believes Michonne would be capable of drafting up a whole effective constitution for the new world lol.

Their synchronized smiles at this moment are seriously the best. 🙌🏽And then Rick kissing her three times is even better. The way Michonne smiles at him. The way he always has to come back for more. I live.😍

And I just absolutely love getting to see Rick and Michonne in such a relaxed happy state. Scenes like this make it so clear why Rick and Michonne haven't moved on from each other after all those years apart. You don't move on from a love like this.

Richonne gives each other joy like no other and this whole exchange shows how they work so effortlessly together as leaders and lovers. What a pair. 🤩 As Andy said, they truly are perfect partners in this imperfect world.

Plus it’s just always so sweet that two of the strongest, fiercest, most intimidating warriors in the world find each other so cute and cuddly. 😋

Y'all, Richonne + cars is a thing, and also Richonne + candle-lit scenes too, because they are always A1.

...But then the candles get blown out, and this scene proceeds to reach its peak of perfection. 🤩

As someone who loves a lengthy Richonne scene, I remember first watching this ep live and being so happy that they weren’t cutting away from them once the lights went out. I had no idea it was because we were in for something so heavenly. 😇

Cuz they turn off the lights and then immediately wrap their arms around each other again to go to sleep and it’s always so sweet seeing Rick softly touch her hair. All the little gestures just feel like this person in their arms is their treasure who has their whole heart. #ILoveEveryRichonneDetail

Then....y'all then Rick opens his eyes to utter the greatest thing he's ever said to Michonne thus far - “How’d I get so lucky finding you?”

BEAUTIFUL. Powerful, meaningful, romantic, fitting, perfect. I could go on. 👩🏽‍🍳💋

I love the delivery of the line because it really feels like it’s this reoccurring thought for Rick that, at this moment, his mind was thinking and just had to utter out loud.

It's fitting he’d say this after the convo they just had because it really did capture why Michonne is so perfect for him, and I love that he knows it and vocalizes it. Michonne is a genuinely phenomenal individual, so it makes perfect sense that Rick feels not just happy but lucky to have her.

And just to think about their journey and know that we’d arrive at a point where Rick reflects on when he met Michonne and feels so personally lucky to have found her. 😭 She’s his soulmate, and he knows it wholeheartedly.

And I love that beyond literally finding each other, there’s something deep about the way Rick and Michonne found each other in their truest form. They saw each other in a deeper way and brought each other back from the lost state they were in.

Also, I always think it’s sweet how Rick said this with zero other motives - this was just his abundant love for her pouring out. I’m so grateful that in Rick's final season, they didn’t give him and Michonne any tiffs or division, but rather showed that they have only grown closer and more in love since the last season.

Like after one of the series' longest time jumps, I adore that we return to a Rick and Michonne who have clearly spent the last year and a half strengthening their bond even more, and healing, and fully enjoying their life together. They are really and truly an unbreakable unit who only fall more in love the more time they spend together.

When I think about all Rick and Michonne have been through together and all they’ve built, it’s just the absolute greatest thing to know Rick thinks about his life and feels so sincerely lucky that he found Michonne. We knew that the day they found each other at the prison fence was life-changing, and it's great to see them two know it too.

If you were to tell Season One Rick that he was going to eventually lose his son, Carl, but would still have family that made him feel like a lucky man, he'd probably think you were crazy. And yet, this is the power of Richonne. The family found between Rick and Michonne runs so deep and is so authentic that, even after the most painful loss imaginable, Rick knows he still has so much to live for because he has Michonne and Judith.

Then it’s so sweet that Michonne hears Rick say this heart-bursting line and takes his hand because she feels the same way, and is likely thinking that's the...

#DirectQuoteFromHerMind you already know. 😋

And then Michonne softly tells Rick, "We both lost enough, it’s time we won a little don’t you think?" My heart. 😭 This moment is everything.

And y’all, I had gone back and re-read one of my old Richonne in Retrospect posts from several years ago where I reflected on a s6 scene between Michonne and David, that Alexandrian who got bit in 6.03. In that 6.03 scene, David talks to Michonne about his love story which completely and intentionally mirrors Michonne's own love story with Rick. And in that old post, I wrote this:

"Rick and Michonne finding each other in all this is really one of the best things that happened to them. And in this type of world people take a whole lot of L’s so it’s cool that they were actually able to find such a big win in finding each other…and if R&M ever verbally imply a similar sentiment to each other about how finding each other in all this was everything, this will literally be me…"

So the fact that over a year after I wrote that, Rick and Michonne express exactly this...😭🙌🏾😭 It is the best ever. And just as I predicted, that gif above was and still is me whenever I watch this scene. It is just so powerful for Rick and Michonne to feel like amid all their loss, they still won big time by finding each other and falling in love.

And then Michonne so lovingly kisses his hand, and Rick is perfectly content with that exchange as he shuts his eyes. But then, once again, the gift that keeps on giving gives us even more. 🤩

Cuz Michonne turns to look at him and then Rick...y’all, I’ll never get over how he looks at her right here. Like he looks right at Michonne with a breathtaking look that says, “I’m wholly and completely yours” and so clearly shows that she seriously means everything to him.

(also! y'all, I wrote this whole post before that V-day trailer, and so the fact that we've now got to hear Rick directly say, "I am yours," before the show even officially premieres 😍😍😍 my goodness TOWL is just blessings on blessings)

So then they kiss and it wonderfully ramps up with Michonne getting on top of him and reiterating "the famous Rick Grimes." 😏

…except this time, i think sis means he’s famous for reasons only she knows about. and that’s their business. 😋

As Danai has noted before, Rick knows how to make Michonne vulnerable, and Michonne knows how to make Rick laugh, which is just sublime.

And the way Rick laughs at the close of this scene - you know that if there’s one person he likes being "the famous Rick Grimes" to it’s Mrs. Grimes. 😊

Y’all, this whole scene blessed us ten times over. Our ship has it all. And we really do get whatever we want lol. 💅🏽

(Side note: it's also important to note that we don't just get whatever we want as some sort of forced fan service from the show. (Considering Gimple was planting Richonne seeds before viewers had even seen the two on screen together, that fan-service take simply can't be true). The real reason we get what we want is because the very love story we want to see is also the very love story the show wanted to organically craft. These TWD writers, actors, producers, network/production companies etc, fully recognize Rick and Michonne's relationship as a special marriage with crazy love between two tethered soulmates, and we're just in agreement and alignment with that. And I feel fortunate that the canon story being told is as beautiful, romantic, and authentic as we wanted and knew it would be)

I’m so grateful for this tender scene and that these actors are so capable of playing every shade of Richonne perfectly. Like we got serious, playful, romantic, steamy, and utterly heartfelt all in this one scene. 🙌🏾

And while Rick has expressed feeling so lucky to have Michonne in the way he looks at her for many seasons, it was wonderful to hear him also outright verbalize that in finding her he found a true reward. He doesn’t take her for granted, and Michonne doesn’t either, knowing that he is her win in all this too.

This moment is also beautiful because Rick and Michonne are two selfless individuals who have been put through the wringer on their individual and shared journeys yet still remained dedicated to giving their all to protect their people - And then the universe sent them each other and said ♡ you deserve to be taken care of too, ♡ you deserve to be held too, ♡ you deserve a gift that's just for you too. ♡ oh and also the gift that we're sending you is...

Rick and Michonne are each other's blessing. This scene solidified that beautifully.

They won because of each other, and we won with special scenes like this that contribute so much to Richonne’s perfect love story. 😌

#richonne #the best thing Rick said to Mrs. Grimes 😍#one week until TOWL!!!#this time next week I'll be watching my babies on screen again 😭#can't wait 🥳#top 30 #top 10 #number 7 #rick x michonne #reveling in richonne #twd 9.01 #twd towl #the ones who live

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loveanddeepspice · 9 days ago

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𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis: you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating: 18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw: religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter: 5 / ?

✞ co-authors: redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link: here

✞ chapter synopsis: a series of risky decisions gets you into more than one kind of trouble.

✞ index: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

Please comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list for updates!

The next few days were spent in the confines of your childhood home, your bed almost becoming your permanent address as you thought about that kiss. The kindness and how the words expressed resonated with you in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. But more than anything, how the kissing Father Sylus had made you feel - the tenderness of it all. But surely you were getting ahead of yourself and even found yourself a little disgusted with yourself over the whole encounter.

But he had just been so close, too sweet, and his face was so beautiful, and all you wanted to do was press kisses all over him.

But it’s wrong, isn’t it?

Something inside you rebelled against the idea for obvious reasons. Any resolve you had would disintegrate when you decided to act or speak on it.

But then, one evening, Rafayel called. You barely answered in time because part of you was hoping it would be someone else.

“Hey babe, just wanted to check up and see how you’re doing. Haven’t heard from you.”

You blinked, frozen for a moment as you twisted into a sitting position on your bed. “Fine. What’s up?”

He chuckled, and you weren’t sure if he was annoyed. You felt slightly upset at yourself for not reaching out when you could have. A normal rekindled friendship typically involves a friend being there for the other, especially after what he revealed to you. But before you could follow up with an apology, he spoke again.

“Nothing in particular. I wondered if you wanted to get some of the old gang together and go up into the woods like we used to.”

You knew the place he was walking about, the old lumber yard out in the middle of the woods where the kids from town used to gather. It had been a favorite spot to hang out, build bonfires, other illegal shit teenagers liked to do when they wanted to get away from their parents.

“What do you mean ‘the gang?’” You asked.

“Well, uh, it’s just gonna be you and me. When I tried to call anyone else from school, they either laughed at me for being back here or didn’t answer.” You could hear his nervous laugh when his words cut off. “Still a small town, and everyone is the same.”

You couldn’t resist, though. Even if you were a bit too old for that behavior. Reliving your past was one of the reasons you returned home in the first place. “I have nothing better to do, so yeah. Sounds great.” You paused, wondering if you had said the right thing, hoping that Rafayel understood what you meant. “Sorry, I’ve been…not myself lately. Lot’s on my mind.” You rubbed the back of your knee with your fingers before standing, keeping the phone to your ear as you crossed the room to where your suitcase lay open on a chair.

“I get it.” He responded with a laugh, light and airy in a way that made you smile. “Life is pretty shitty, especially for people like us who - well, you know.” There was a hint of apology in his tone as you heard him open and close a door. “This is the perfect opportunity for me to listen to you now.”

“I kissed the priest.”

“Fucking, what? The hot one?”

You sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward a bit, a bit shaken now with your admission. Even though you had spoken it out loud, you still felt as if you couldn’t totally come to grips with the situation.

“Well, yeah. He’s the only one.” You said, curling your hand around the hem of the comforter. “And I’m also in love with a married man. I’m losing it. This is what happens to people who don’t peak in high school or something!”

Rafayel said nothing, obviously processing. Then he began to chuckle, which turned into a laugh. Then, he let out the most ridiculous roar of laughter.

“Wow,” he managed to gasp out after a bit, only to laugh again. You could imagine how his shoulders probably shuddered as they shook and the grin plastered on his face. “Okay, once Talia goes to bed, I’ll grab her car and pick you up. And then you’re explaining this whole damn story to me. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“I can’t even comprehend this,” Rafayel breathed after you recounted your tale of how you ended up back home, finishing off with the way Father Sylus had kissed you and the way your panic overtook you. He shook his head, hands clenching and unclenching, brow knitted as he looked at you.

The two of you sat in Talia's car, parked outside the old lumber yard in the woods. The empty dirt parking lot was bathed in the moon's light peeking through the clouds. The bowl on the dash between you both served as a reminder that some things hadn’t changed and that this was the first place you had smoked weed.

Rafayel picked it up, fingers curling around the glass as he brought it to his lips. The flick of the lighter illuminated his face in the dark car, shadows dancing across his cheekbones as he inhaled deeply. You couldn’t blame him for his reaction.

When he passed it to you, you mirrored his actions, feeling the smoke fill your lungs and the earthy taste coating your tongue. You held it in briefly before exhaling slowly, leaning back into the passenger seat.

“And Xavier asked me out.” You said.

Your friend’s face contorted in disbelief before he let out a short burst of laughter. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.” You giggled and looked out towards the old building before you, wondering how he could think you were making any of this up.

“Damn, you have three guys chasing after you, begging for scraps. I bet the doctor has loads of money.” Rafayel clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “This is every girl’s dream! I don’t understand what the problem is.”

And as if it suddenly hit him all at once, he started to laugh, and the laugh turned out to be contagious. You both soon ended up in a fit of giggles inside the growing colder car.

“I mean, what am I supposed to do? Ask him to leave his wife?” You huffed.

“Relax! Think about it. People get divorced all the time.” The high was definitely setting in as Rafayel rested his head on the back of the seat. “And if he’s as hopelessly infatuated with you as you said, he might do it anyway.”

“Rafayel! That’s horrible.”

He leaned in and playfully nudged your shoulder, saying, “I can’t help but be honest with you. Who would I be if I wasn’t?” He caught the look on your face and rolled his eyes, flicking the lighter absentmindedly. “Or, you know, you could just call him up and give him a piece of your mind. Maybe that will push him right in the direction of Silver Springs.”

You rolled your eyes and muttered, feeling the familiar laziness creeping into your body. You barely resisted the urge to snort at his suggestion. “The Fleetwood Mac song?”

“Yeah, Stevie cursed him, you know. Lindsey. In ‘97. Hexed him right on stage in front of everyone. So if I were you, I would call him up and tell him what direction he can shove his thumb up his own ass.”

You laughed again, shaking your head at Rafayel’s ridiculous suggestion. The pot was doing its job, making everything seem way funnier than it should be.

“I don’t know, man,” you sighed, sinking further into the seat. “Even if Zayne does leave his wife for me, which would be so wrong, what about Father Sylus? I mean, I kissed a priest, for Christ’s sake!”

Rafayel took another long drag from the bowl before setting it between you in the cupholder, smoke once again billowing in the car as he responded. “Hey, forbidden love is the hottest kind. And I figure if I’m going to get any entertainment out of this town, it’s gonna be from you at this point. So just call the fucking doctor while I’m still high.” With that, he shoved your shoulder, and you turned and shoved him right back.

You grumbled as you reached for your phone, unlocking it as the smoke settled around you. You scrolled through your contacts until your thumb was right over the number. It was so tempting, especially with the encouragement of the young man beside you - but you stayed still.

You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you.

“Fuck it.” You breathed deeply, heart hammering, and hit the phone symbol. As soon as you heard the first ring, you nearly jumped.

Why do I do this? A mantra in your mind, like a worm in your skull, beating against the insides repeatedly with a tiny hammer.

You waited, putting the phone on speaker so the idiot beside you could hear. After a few long rings, you were about to hang up when there was a click. An unfamiliar voice picked up instead of the one you were used to, and the wave of anxiety almost made you dizzy.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft, not as straightforward or bubbly as you had imagined she would sound.

Silent, you swallowed thickly, and along with the fear, you felt the ache settle in once again. The sharp guilt began coiling around you. You looked toward Rafayel, who suddenly looked just as panicked as you. He quickly grabbed your phone, raising an index finger to his lips and giving you a stern look.

“Hi! Uh, I’m calling about your car's extended warranty!” Rafayel quickly stated, cutting off whatever the woman was about to say next. Then, he turned and threw your phone out of the open window.

The two of you stared at each other blankly. Then, all the adrenaline hit you at once, and the numb haze obliterated.

“Oh my God, fuck!” You managed to say, trying and failing to fight the delirious laughter that began wrapping through your body. You barely noticed your vision clouded with tears, and your next laugh came out mixed with a sob. “That was his - and you just - HA! You threw my phone out the window!”

“Listen, Y/N, I don’t think that was a good -”

“FUCK.” You kicked the dashboard with your foot, the glove compartment popping open and spilling its contents onto the car's floor. “How could you throw my phone out the window like that?” you cried, turning to glare at Rafayel through your tears.

He held up his hands defensively. “I panicked, okay? I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret later. That was his wife on the phone, not him! What were you going to say to her anyway?”

“I don’t know!” you wailed, burying your face in your hands. The high rapidly dissipated, ruined, and replaced by a growing despair. “I’m a horrible person. What am I doing with my life?”

Rafayel sighed and scooted closer, draping an arm lazily around your shaking shoulders. “Hey, you’re not a horrible person. Do you want a Xanax?”

“No, I don’t want Xanax! Go get my phone!”

“Okay, okay! Just chill out.” Rafayel moved to open the car door but paused, a muttered curse leaving his mouth before he hurriedly attempted to clean up the drug paraphernalia scattered on the console. Then he turned just in time to have a flashlight shone in his face. In all of your agitation, it appeared that neither of you had noticed the other vehicle that had pulled up.

“Hi, Tara.” Rafeyel greeted the deputy at the window with a thinly veiled hint of irritation as he shielded his eyes with the back of one hand. “Good to see you.”

Tara looked at him, and then her eyes landed on you and widened slightly, her mouth parting as she put the two of you together. “Really? You’re back home?”

Tara was only a couple years younger than you, and there was no surprise that this was her chosen profession. You remembered how she used to hang around all the time in high school, staying behind and hoping you’d ask her to hang out to go to a party. Even back then, it was as if you couldn’t shake her, the girl pursuing anything and getting into anything she could think of.

“So, uh.” Tara leaned over and peeked into the car, leaning her free hand on the window. Perfectly manicured nails and the same cherry red lipstick; her features and skin soft. “What are you guys doing?”

You started to laugh again, unable to resist the odd delight rippling through you. Rafayel tensed, and his lips pressed together as he looked at you in warning.

“Nothing, officer.” You answered with a grin. “Don’t you have more important things to do? What’s all we ever did when we came up here?”

Rafayel slapped a hand to his forehead. Tara scoffed and looked around nervously, as if confused as to how you reached the admission you realized shouldn’t have slipped out of your mouth so easily. Her sudden lack of boldness reminded you of the faux courage she often displayed when she was younger, which was why you were never that close with her.

As long as you’ve known Talia, she was the type to call the priest whenever something happened. Even though you partially expected it, you were still on edge seeing Father Sylus walking into the tiny police station with her.

You were sitting on a bench with Rafayel, feeling angry and frustrated, and your high completely came down when the two of them walked in. Your head snapped up at the sight of the tall man next to Talia, looking composed and put together while she looked like she had just taken a sleeping pill. It truly was no surprise to see Talia rushing in to rescue Rafayel from whatever trouble he had gotten himself into.

“Rafayel.” Talia’s small, five-foot frame was in front of her nephew. “You…” She rubbed her temples and let out a groan.

“Sorry, Talia.” He held up his hands, which were cuffed together, a bit of a chuckle leaving his mouth as if he thought this was the most amusing thing that could possibly happen to him.

You averted your gaze again, the memory of the kiss burning in your mind, and you couldn’t bear to look up. A fresh wave of shame washed over you. Talia’s exasperated voice faded into the background as your heart pounded.

“Come on, let’s get you two out of here,” Talia finally said with a sigh. She turned to Tara, who was seated at the desk nearby. “I’m assuming there won’t be any charges? They were just being stupid, right Tara?”

Tara glanced between you and Rafayel, conflict flickering across her face. You could see the gears turning in her mind, weighing the social capital to be gained by letting this slide versus following protocol. After a tense beat, she sighed and waved a dismissive hand.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s go fill out the paperwork.”

Talia nodded curtly and followed Tara out of the room, and an awkward silence descended, thick and lingering, although you couldn’t pinpoint the cause of it. You kept your gaze fixed on the scuffed linoleum, tracing patterns with your eyes.

“Hey, Father,” Rafayel said, “What’d Talia say when she called you?”

“She asked for a ride, said she would kill you, and needed someone to perform the last rites.”

Rafayel let out a short laugh at Father Sylus’ dry response, but you remained silent, still unable to bring yourself to look at the priest. Your mind kept replaying that moment - the gentle press of his lips against yours. How could you face him now, after what transpired between you? What would you even say?

“Right.” Rafayel hummed, “Suppose I should thank you then. Potentially saving my soul and all that.” He nudged you with his elbow, “Ain’t that right, bestie?”

“Yeah, thanks.” You mumbled, only lifting your head when Tara appeared in front of you to remove the handcuffs from your wrists. Talia moved before her nephew, jingling her car keys before dropping them into his hands.

“Let’s get out of here before I change my mind, Rafayel,” She grumbled. He flashed her a cheeky grin but wisely kept his mouth shut this time.

“I can take Y/N home.” Father Sylus nodded toward you once you stood and shook out your wrists. Nervously, your eyes flickered to Rafayel, who looked terrified for you for a brief second before mouthing the words, 'Touch his butt.'

A moment later, you found yourself outside the police station next to the priest who had consumed your thoughts since that ill-advised kiss. You shivered in the harsh autumn breeze that cut straight through the light jacket you wore. You risked a brief glance at Father Sylus. He stood without a jacket, radiating heat, and for a moment, you wanted to press against him to feel that warmth.

You found your words. “I - I can get home on my own,” you said, a bit harsher than was necessary. “I’m an adult the last time I checked.”

Father Sylus paused at the bottom of the steps and turned around. There wasn’t any tension or hesitation in his tone, just like the other night. He was just genuinely inquiring. “How are you feeling, Y/N?”

Shivering slightly and wrapping your arms around yourself, you looked toward the man and offered a smile. Your voice had the faintest tremor as you tried to joke, “I’ve been better.”

Father Sylus glanced at you from the corner of his eye as you fell into step beside him, releasing a little snort at your sarcasm, a gesture that, for some reason, sent a hot rush of awe through you.

“That’s all right, Y/N.” He said with a sad smile. “We can talk about it later if you want. For now, the important thing is getting you home.” Reflexively, his hand came to rest on the small of your back as he steered you toward the parking lot.

Just the brief caress of his warm hand on your back made your thighs clench. It didn’t mean anything, you told yourself, but your stomach churned as the sweet electricity of his touch rushed through you.

Stop it, you told yourself. He was just showing you where he had parked. Yet his lingering warmth was flooding your senses. Swallowing thickly, you pinched your brows together and hoped you didn’t actually upset him in any way.

“Should I be worried?” he asked.

“About what?”

“The things you’re into.”

Stopping, a hard lump formed in your throat, and the entire world fell into a hush. The nearly pitch black parking lot of the police station, the night chill, the beautiful priest that just - was he teasing you, now?

“Again. I’m in my twenties. Weed,” you snapped, emphasizing the last word, “Isn’t a big deal.”

His palm felt scorching through your jacket as he closed a hand around the top of your shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Hey now,” He said, making your breath hitch as you stiffened slightly. “It was just a question.”

You said nothing, simply sliding into the passenger seat of Father Sylus’s car.

A quiet settled between you two in the car, then. All you could do was look out the window at the dark neighborhood and overanalyze every word, every touch, trying to pinpoint exactly how you felt. But how could you even explain that the man beside you gave you the thrill of wanting to do something terrible? Because there had been a moment with him, something that broke the reality of the relationship the two of you had. It didn’t necessarily feel awful, more like an unspoken truth waiting to be expressed.

You tried to control your emotions and thought process, registering that you were in front of your house now. Just as you were going to say goodnight and grab the door handle, you heard Father Sylus speak.

“I owe you an apology for the other night.” The quiet murmur was easy to miss, but you did everything possible to hang onto the sound. A mix of breath. You looked back at him, trying to catch his eyes in the darkness only illuminated by the porch light from the distance.

“I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” He continued, “I’d still like for us to talk.”

As tempting as it was to open the car door and leave, the ache in your belly nearly overwhelmed you. A terrible, crushing sense of longing settled in. Knowing where the lines were drew a blank in your mind. Where the hell were you supposed to draw the line? Fuck, was this situation genuine, or just one of opportunity?

“Can I ask an inappropriate question, Father?” You choked out, swallowing the lump of anxiety that wound its way around the base of your neck. You watched as he shut the car off.

“What is it?” He wasn't looking at you, but the hand still on the wheel tightened slightly.

Inhaling deeply, your heart thumped at an aching speed as you murmured your question, your voice beginning to betray how much he affected you. “Do you kiss a lot of girls?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Why the hell did you mean to bring that up? What good would knowing do, even? Right, of course, you would just go ahead and ruin the image of purity - what was the worst that could happen?

“Well,” You continued, unable to stop yourself but choosing your words carefully, “You kissed me. So, do you kiss a lot of girls?”

Father Sylus was quiet for a long, brutal moment. You felt sweat bead on your skin despite the car being cool. Clenching your fists and digging your nails into your palm, you try to brace yourself. You hadn’t intended to ask your question so outwardly , but what other way was there to put it?

“Y/N, you’re trying to minimize our connection,” he said. He took a deep, steadying breath and then rubbed a hand over his brow. “And I can ignore it. I can try to pray for the strength to bear it.”

Then, he met your gaze directly. In the light from the porch, you could see how his crimson eyes tore into you, emotion suddenly exposed and bared. For the second time, he had allowed you to glimpse what was hiding under the careful mask he put on.

You almost flinched as he touched your knee, his tone dropping. “But I won’t diminish it.”

You found yourself falling, then, into those wounded eyes. You slid your hand forward and set it over his, the heat from the simple touch making you feel like you had touched an ember.

Before you knew what you were doing, you leaned across the center console to kiss him, slow and sweet.

Please don’t push me away.

For a moment, you feel his surprise. However, just before you pull away, he pulls you forward, one warm hand sliding up your back and the other threading through your hair gently, reverently.

You moan softly into his mouth, and his grip tightens slightly. He deepens the kiss, pressing his tongue into your mouth. You lose yourself in the feel of his lips on yours, his hands on your body.

The gentleness he handles you with stokes the fire within you, warming you from the inside and slowly turning into a fever. You long for him to hold you tightly, to show you he wanted you too - you need that affirmation.

Then his lips grazed the shell of your ear, voice husky and warm. “You’re far too close for your own good.”

What sort of torment was this? All these words hung in the air that you wanted to say, but none came to your mind except for -

“Fuck me,” you rasped. Your face felt hot as the words spilled from your lips, driven by the intensity of your want. “Please, I -”

He silenced you with his mouth, capturing your lips again. His kiss is no less intense and consuming but maintains a level of restraint that a part of you hoped was rapidly crumbling. Your hands move on their own accord, reaching for his belt.

A hand on your wrist stops you before you can go any further, his skin like silk against the pounding pulse point of your wrist. It was a heavyweight, slowly making its way up to where your heart was beating wildly.

He’s looking directly into your eyes when he brings your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles gently.

“No here, sweetheart.” His voice is feather-light as he speaks. “Not like this.”

While he let go of your wrist, something unseen held you in place. But it was only momentarily before the horror of what you had tried to do crashed over you.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry, I - what the fuck am I doing?”

With the state you were in, it wouldn’t take much for the well of tears to come. Unable to look at him, you unlocked the car door and pushed it open, nearly tripping on your feet as you stumbled onto the pavement.

You didn’t look back, fearing falling apart, and slammed the door shut.

Rather than going through the front door, you circled the house and went up the back porch through the kitchen. Once inside, you walked past your dad in the living room, who was sleeping on the couch with the television blaring and a near-empty bottle of beer within arm’s reach.

You went into the bathroom in the hallway, shut and locked the door, then slid down onto the cold tile.

The rejection shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. No, this was different. Something deep inside, something raw and fiery, made the ache grow exponentially. It was the memory of the touch, the intoxicating mixture of scents.

Anger clawed its way to the surface because you couldn’t even wrap your head around what you felt. How pathetic, how foolish, how humiliating.

Clutching the sides of your head, you let out a scream, frustration causing your body to shake.

You wanted so badly to disappear.

Did God have a sense of humor or something?

tag list: @celestialforce @readerxyourbabe

#lds #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #lads sylus #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads fanfic #sylus x reader #sylus x you

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xmalereader · 11 months ago

Text

Five Hargreeves x Chef! Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

SUMMARY: After the events of TUA S3, Fives is left without his powers and can finally try to have a normal life without relying on his abilities. Trapped in a his teenage body at the age of fifty he can finally retire at a nice little town, getting himself a job as a waiter in the towns famous ‘Daybreak Diner’ where he befriends the owner and chef of the place. Not only that, but Fives has competition with the bakery across the street.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: Pure fluff, mature language, crossovers between characters, and bakery verse, reader is a chef and an adult, fives is around 15-16 years old, platonic parent, found family, fives and Alex are enemies to lovers, mentions of Simon Riley and his baker husband, cooking, fives hates customers, love sick teenagers.

WC: 1.5K

NOTES: Hello everyone! It’s a new year, meaning new format and new characters and ideas! I’ve actually been thinking about this idea for awhile now and decided to create my own little baker or cooking verse between one of my favorite series of Simon Riley and perhaps a new one starting with Five Hargreeves! Please, feel free to leave some feedback and if you wish to read some more of this cooking verse then I’ll be more than happy to make more!

Daybreaks Diner was a simple restaurant that served grilled and raw sea food dishes. It was one of the popular places in town that many people went to eat after leaving work either to relax with some alcohol in their system or perhaps a nice shrimp cocktail that many people enjoyed. The place had only been standing for a few years, owned by one single person who did all of the cooking and cleaning before and after closing for the day, everyone in town knew who the chef was and how passionate he is when it comes towards his menu and various food choices.

Some would say that he was in competition with the bakery across the street due to both owners always getting caught conversing with each other, only for the rumor to be shut down after it became clear the the two were simply friends and helped each other out when it comes towards new ideas for their own places.

It wasn’t until their time together slowly decreased going from days to only a few hours. Only to find out that his good friend had recently found someone that helped him in the bakery which later resulted in them getting married and getting the family he always wanted and keeping himself busy in the bakery. The two still talked, but they were both moving on with their lives and busy with their own dreams.

It wasn’t until a year later that he hired a sixteen year old teenager to work in his diner. He was hesitant about the kid at first only to find out that he no place nor a job and was easily persuaded into hiring the kid and evening letting the kid rent out his extra room upstairs. It took some adjusting for him, waking up in the mornings to find the teenager with messy bed hair and drinking black coffee on the small table that he had in his dining room, silent as always only to get a bit chatty when the two head downstairs to prep for the day.

The other strange thing that he hasn’t gotten used to yet was the kids name, Fives.

Did this kids parents hate him so much that they gave him a number for a name?

Fives never spoke about his past nor about his family and kept to himself. That wasn’t until he caught the kid having a nightmare late one night, jolting him awake when hearing the kids scream which caused him to spend the night sleeping on the floor after the kid asked him to stay with him even though his words sounded forced as if he didn’t want him there at all. Y/n didn’t know shit about kids nor did he consider himself a parent since he’s been alone for majority of his adult life to the point where his main focus became his restaurant and now this kid too.

After having Fives live with him for almost six months now, the teenager had grown on him and enjoyed his presence even though the kid himself can be a little sarcastic bastard whenever they were alone.

It was the weekend and the restaurant usually opens late, giving Y/n the time to get everything prepped without any problems as he stood on the other side of the counter, cutting up various vegetables while glancing over to Five who had his face pressed against the glass window, staring across the street with a frown on his face.

“If you keep staring they’ll notice.” He speaks up but Fives doesn’t budge from his spot, glaring down at Alex from across the street at the other teenager worked on writing out todays specials for his fathers bakery. “He thinks some piece of bread with white crap on top is better than my specials?” Fives hissed out, earning an eye roll from Y/n.

When Y/n first introduced Fives to his friend he expected his friends son, Alex to get along only to get the total opposite. Fives loathed the guy and Alex felt the same way towards him. Their hatred started over who’s food was better either the bakery or the diner and neither saw eye to eye and the boys always turned everything into a competition.

“There chocolate filled croissants are good—“

Fives whips his head to glare at Y/n when hearing his comment. He can’t help but laugh at his expression and shake his head, he used to find the kid so intimidating at times and now his looks never phase him anymore. “You two are always fighting.” He mumbled to himself and focused on the fish next and moves around the counter and placed the different ingredients out in order to get lunch ready.

“Come on Fives, clean the tables and set down the chairs the lunch rush is gonna hit soon.” He orders the kid around who does as he’s told, walking around the counter to put on his own apron and tying it around his waist and grabbing a table cloth. It became a regular routine for the two, Y/n prepping the food while Fives cleans the place and gets the tables set for any customer that are to come even though Fives was the only waiter he did the work fast and wasn’t afraid of taking back to customers who talked badly about the food or complained about the smallest things, remembering him threatening a family who couldn’t control their kids running around the place and ruining other people’s nights.

Fives didn’t hesitate to approach the table, slamming the bill on their counter while giving them a wide grin. “If you don’t control your kids I am more than happy to do it for you and believe me it ain’t gonna be a pretty sight.” The parents thought he was joking around and laughed at Fives words only for Y/n to wince at the couples response, knowing damn well that he wasn’t joking.

Fives sighed through his nose before slamming his hand on the table, startling not just the couple but the other customers around them while speaking out loud to them. “Listen here ass, I have spent the last five minutes dealing with your kids running around this place while serving food to everyone else and I am caring around hot and cold plates and if one of your kids bumps into me and gets that food on them, do not complain about your little mistake getting burned.”

Safe to say the parents listened to him and were able to control their kids.

Y/n relied on Fives with situations like that which rarely happened after that day, no one wanted to deal with the teens wrath.

As the two got ready, Fives was the one to turn on the ‘open’ sign on and step outside to wipe down the windows, using a rag to wipe them clean only to stop when he noticed Alex approaching him, making him glare as he focused on his task.

“I’d ask what you’re up to Fives, but then it occurred to me. I don’t care.” Said Alex while entering the resturant, leaving Fives outside who glared at Alex when entering the place, getting Y/n’s attention from over the counter and smiling at the other teen. “Alex! The usual today?” He questions as he began to get the food ready as Alex sits at the bar.

“The usual for dad and for Simon he actually wanted to try one of your specials.” Alex points towards the menu behind Y/n and let him know that Simon wishes to try the third special on the menu.

Y/n works on getting the food ready. “Why do you call him Simon? Why not dad too?” He knows that his friend and his husband have been married for awhile which lead up to Simon finally adopting Alex as his own kid too. “I guess I’m used to it yet?” Alex shrugs his shoulders while leaning his elbows on the counter top and reaching over to steal one of the juice boxes only to get his hand smacked with a towel making him yelp in surprise.

“Hey, thats for customers only.” Fives cuts in, tossing his dirty towel into the sink while Alex grumbled. “I’m a valuable customer here.”

“To me you ain’t, so if you want the juice box you gotta pay.” The two boys glare at each other and Y/n is quick to cut the tension between the two. “Alright that’s enough you two.” He sets a bag of food in front of Alex, “Here you go, also tell your dad to send me some those specials too.”

“I will,” Alex responds while taking the bag with him, shooting Fives a smirk when Y/n slips the juice box in the bag which makes Fives groan as the two watch him leave the restaurant. It was normal for both owners to try each others specials without charge due to them being close friends after so many years together.

Y/n watched Alex, making sure that he got back to the bakery without any accidents, sighing in relief once the teen makes it inside only to turn around to face Fives who had his arms crossed over his chest while frowning. “Do you want me to kill him?”

#male reader #five Hargreeves x male reader #five Hargreeves x chef male reader #bakery verse #Simon Riley x male reader #bakery au series #chef au series #ghost x male reader #crossover #au #cooking au

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